I think this (my life as it is now) is what they call “controlled chaos.”

My mother beat herself silly yesterday fighting with insurance companies on our behalf, she’s good at that sort of thing, no, she’s excellent at it. We are very fortunate to have her on our team. Through the magic of modern day loopholes and to save you all the hassle and boredom of icky insurance details, let’s just say that nearly everything has been handled.

Ethan should be having surgery a week from tomorrow. Buh-bye Mr. Testicle.

Yesterday was intense. I was piled with business things that were absolute “fires” in terms of what needed to be taken care of immediately. My phone was ringing nonstop and only a small portion of those calls had to do with Ethan.

Then Mike called and asked if Ethan might want to run an errand for him. I decided to turn it into an outing just the kids and I. We got something to drink, set the GPS and started negotiating traffic. We turned up the music and sang along. Somehow in lane changes, turns, and traffic lights I realized that I wasn’t worried and thinking about Ethan, business, insurance, medical bills, Ethan… I was just driving and hanging out with my kids and it felt so good to be out and forced to focus on the road, the moment, right in front of me.

That’s the moment that changed my entire day. I was just a mom driving around with her kids. and that was all I had to be right then. I don’t remember, at all, the last time I felt like that. But, it was so great I almost didn’t want to come home.

Then, I almost pulled out in front of a woman in a parking lot and I did the “I’m SO sorry” shoulder shrug and bashful wave - SHE WAVED BACK, LAUGHED and SMILED.

IN. A. PARKING LOT. AT TARGET.

I was so shocked all I could do was wave and smile back. Ethan and Katie said, “MOM! That lady was NICE!”

And, I realized, I haven’t had a pleasant traffic encounter in… okay, never mind, it’s never happened, I should call it a traffic miracle.

Now, believe me, I’m far too jaded to think that my luck is changing or that this is the start of an upswing. I mean, seriously? If I had a dollar for every time I heard, “It will all be okay.” and “Everything will work out just fine.” over the last six months, I wouldn’t be experiencing half the challenges I am right now.

Still, just for a moment the Pollyanna in my brain woke up and started to blather on and on about hope, good signs, and “it’s always darkest before the dawn.” The moment ended when I smacked her in the head with an imaginary rubber mallet because I was in no mood for that!

Instead, I came home and had a moment of gratitude for the brief escape. I’m always looking for the light at the end of the the tunnel and yesterday I got lucky enough to find a firefly.

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Posting late and I’d love to just be funny and zany about all of this, but I guess it isn’t possible all the time. We headed out early yesterday for UCLA with my mother and her overwhelming suspicion of all things GPS related driving. Which would have been funny under other circumstances.

Our appointment was for 9:30… we weren’t seen until after 11am. Then, of course, the doctor sets up surgery for FRIDAY. Yes, THIS FRIDAY. In the meantime he wants us to drive back down there on THURSDAY for blood work.

They did another ultrasound today and the doctor confirmed everything we already knew but emphasized that it is localized. Meaning, no spread, it’s in a neat little package all to itself. Regardless, the entire testicle has to be removed. He also believes there is a good chance that this is a type of children’s testicular cancer, meaning - super easy to cure. In fact, most likely, just take out the testicle and it’s done. No radiation no chemo. However, it’s important to note that no one knows anything until it is removed and ran through pathology.

And, it’s wonderful that he can set up surgery that fast… however, we have to deal with insurance, etc. And, while 99% of the cancer websites (including personal experience stories) out there indicate that this is an “out patient” surgery, for some reason our doctor wants Ethan to stay in the hospital overnight. Seriously? It’s surgery, it sounds worse than what it actually is, and they have these guys back to their normal routine of working out, going to school, athletics, etc. within days of surgery.

The doctor didn’t even take the insurance situation into consideration - didn’t bother to discuss the viable options, risks, etc. In fact, when I explained our situation with the insurance he replied, “Ma’am, we like to get to these things as quickly as possible.” Which is great because in YOUR world when YOU get to these things - someone else has to worry about the expenses, travel and what their insurance will or won’t cover.

The doctor said they could work with the insurance. However, then it was announced that he wouldn’t be doing the surgery which puts us working with another doctor and his staff and they didn’t seem quite as gung-ho on working with the insurance. The insurance is going to need a pre-authorization and our insurance isn’t known for it’s speed.

Suffice it all to say that if we don’t have a pre-auth to the hospital by 3pm Thursday - then they cancel the surgery. So we are going to see what we can do with the insurance company. I mean, if they will agree to cover it now than we need to get in ASAP, if they don’t… then I’m back to my original plan, I guess. And, I’ll look less like a shitty mom and more like a victim of the “big, bad insurance company” that way.

Yup. I just spent $600 for another ultrasound and another doctor to confirm everything I already knew.

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I’m having a tough time writing these days. We’ve had a lot of nasty business we’ve been dealing with for the past several months, stress like that makes it hard to write. I’ve always viewed this as my escape from the rest of the garbage in my life and when the garbage starts to overwhelm me the creative juices just shut off.

About a week ago our family was absolutely laid flat by some pretty craptacular news. I’d call it devastating but I think that gives the situation too much power. I’m big on positive believing as opposed to just “thinking” and I know that it makes a huge difference. If it didn’t, I’m not sure I’d have been able to get out of bed for the past several months.

My son has testicular cancer. He was diagnosed about a week ago. Since then we’ve had CT Scans, blood work, and numerous phone calls going from the doctor’s office to UCLA to us.

Ethan’s CT scans came back clear. This means that it has not metastasized or spread. It’s located only on the left testicle. Testicular cancer is a fairly weak cancer, it’s nearly 100% curable and is pretty much guaranteed to be cured if caught early, which we have. If all maintains as we believe and hope that it will, he will have surgery in November. From there the tumor will go to pathology and we’ll know what the course of treatment will be. If you are interested, lots of information can be found here and here.

Part of the reason I am writing this post is to let people know that boys ages 15 - 24 are the fastest growing segment of the population to be afflicted with testicular cancer. We hear a lot about breast cancer and breast self-exams but we don’t hear much reminding men, especially our boys, to check their testicles. Thank GOD, my son noticed and thank God he was able to come to us and tell us. Many teenagers are NOT so lucky, they are embarrassed or they just don’t know which, is why testicular cancer is one of the top causes of death for this age group.

Ethan is coping as well as can be expected. My coping mechanism seems to be setting a game plan in motion. Give me dates, times, I can be there one step at a time. Not knowing anything is akin to a circle of hell I had no idea existed until now. The weekend after we found out was a nightmare. Now, I can look at the facts and say, “This is a cake walk. Walk the walk it will be fine. It’s a bad body part nothing more, what do you do to a bad part? You remove it. You fix it. You move on. That’s all this is.” It’s easier that way.

He’s comfortable with people knowing otherwise I wouldn’t be posting now. To be honest, I’m not sure if I will post this. Believe it or not, I’m pretty private even on this blog. The emotional aspect of this was not one that I was or am prepared to deal with. Even with the best case scenario, which we have, we all have our moments of complete and utter devastation.

From time to time Ethan has been snappish, grumpy and outright pissed off. I don’t blame him for this one bit. I can’t imagine that any guy going through this would be happy and upbeat 100% of the time. I just hope that certain people don’t hold it against him. In more upbeat moments his mantra has become, “Cancer is wasting its’ time here.” I’m SO proud of him for that.

Like any mother would, I try to keep a positive and strong outlook in front of him. Then I go off and cry until it feels like my chest will crack in half. I know that everything will be okay, I know that he will survive this and go on to have a very full, long, and happy life. Even knowing that, I break down.

Moment’s like these feel like all of your strengths and weaknesses are under a microscope and you start to realize how far you fall short on so many things. I’ve never felt so weak in my life. I keep thinking, “My God, I’m a tremendous Mother Bear. I’m down right vicious when it comes to my kids.” But, I don’t feel so vicious, I feel like someone has cut me off at the knees.

I know that as a mom you always think, “let it be me, not them. Not my babies.” But, when it really comes down and REALLY hits home… you realize how true that statement is, how much you mean it, how much you beg and pray that whomever, whatever is OUT THERE will just listen and grant you this little piece of mercy. Give it to me, not my baby.

October 7th we will be at UCLA for an appointment with a urologist. Ethan will have surgery in November and this Thanksgiving I will have more blessings to add to my list of things I am thankful for.

This one is for Ethan.

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I can’t sit here while I go nowhere
Chase my dreams through the polluted air
Walking on a wire, running out of time
There’s no room in this ol’ heart of mine

Bill collectors waiting down the hall
Neighbors scream and crack the bedroom wall
Nerves jump off the pavement, passion hits the street
Angels cookin’ in the city heat
World’s too crazy, I can’t take no more
I won’t stay here locked behind the door

Baby, stir it up, got to break it up now
When I think about tomorrow, ooh, I can’t wait to
Stir it, got to shake it up now
If I have to beg or borrow, I’m not gonna take it anymore, mmm, mmm

Hungry minds do stare you in the eyes
Spread it thick and lay the biggest lies
Don’t say what you feel, must play hard to get
All those time bombs tickin’ in your head

So much pressure to keep holdin’ on
Pack my clothes up, baby, I’ll be gone
I’ve got to stir it up, got to break it up now
When I think about tomorrow, ooh, I can’t wait to
Stir it, got to shake it up now
If I have to beg or borrow, I’m not gonna take it anymore, mmm, mmm

Can’t find love because it’s trapped inside
Can’t find freedom flirting with line
Make some room in this ol’ heart of mine

So much pressure to keep holdin’ on
Pack my clothes up, baby, I’ll be gone
Stir it up, I’ve got to break it up now
When I think about tomorrow, I can’t wait to
Stir it, got to shake it up now
If I have to beg or borrow, I don’t wanna take it anymore
Stir it up, got to break it up now
When I think about tomorrow, I can’t wait to
Stir it, got to shake it up now
If I have to beg or borrow, I don’t wanna take it anymore

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A welcome respite from another week of going and going and going. I remember being a kid and thinking, “wow, the weekend! FREEDOM!!!” and as an adult it’s more like, “great, now I get to be a slave to my house for two days.”

Laundry. That’s a priority.

Dirty clothes turning into clean clothes has become a priority.

I’ve considered starting my own nudist colony but the rest of the clan doesn’t seem to be warming up to the idea. Considering some of us aren’t in the best shape around here, it’s probably not the best idea.

And, so, laundry is a priority. A weekend priority, no less.

Mike is in a safety class today. The house is really quiet and Maggie is even here. I can’t believe that I used to think it was Maggs that caused all the commotion! Apparently, Mike is a lot louder than he looks. I think he must sneak it by covertly with all those subtle earth tones that he likes to wear.

And there I go back to laundry. It’s a vicious cycle.

Cycle… laundry… HA! Pardon the pun.

While I’m doing laundry I might as well clean out the laundry room. I noticed the last time I made my way through the door that our Christmas stockings are in there. I can’t imagine why because I’m pretty neurotic about putting all of my Christmas decorations and things back in their storage tubs.

I think the problem lies in that I always have everyone take their stockings and smaller gifts upstairs late Christmas morning because family is due over “anytime” and I want the place somewhat free from all the clutter. The kids, sharp as tacks they are, take their stockings (filled with candy and Christmas stuff) up to their rooms as “late night snacks” and voila’ stockings n the laundry room.

Maybe this year I’ll have them dump their stocking bounty into zip loc bags and then rehang their stockings back up on the mantle. That makes more sense. I think I tried this plan a couple of years ago… it might have worked out, but I don’t remember for sure… I’ve slept since then.

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Blogger’s block is still on. I’m in the thick of it and see no end in sight. Lucky you.

I watched Fringe last night. I loved it. I’m glad to see Joshua Jackson back on television. Although, I will take Pacey anyway I can get him. Of the Dawson Creek bunch he’s probably my favorite. I always rooted for Pacey.

Which reminds me, of my own group of teenage misfits the drama continues. Ethan and Julie are back together. I don’t know what she sees in the boy, honestly. Tim is going to become a fireman, he’s moved up north to go to school and promises to be back to visit before Christmas. He was “home” over the weekend. Between finding Tim asleep in one of the recliners in the family room and Julie popping in and out, the house finally felt “normal” again, for the first time since school started, I might add.

Timmy! ahem, I mean Tim, the fireman.

And this is one of our rabbits, Oreo, lounging on the lawn at midnight… or really late at night. Midnight sounds more dramatic:

Oreo! She’s a sweetheart.

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andddddd… SMOKE IT.

I gotta tell ya, this parenting gig has got me down, man.

You know what stinks about grounding your kids? I’ll tell you:

- You realize that there is a That 70’s Show marathon running and you get so excited! Then you think. Ohhhh, yeahhhh, he’s not allowed to watch television. Heh. Bummer.

- the house is clean but super quiet. Which would be ok, except you KNOW that there is someone upstairs ensconced in his bedroom… listening and waiting for you to break.

Yeah, that’s it. For the most part grounding isn’t so bad. I mean, other than the pouting, pissed off looks, and the almost audible wishing for early release.

So how about some good things about grounding?

- You can stand outside his/her bedroom door doing a goofy, happy, “I’m FREE and I can leave MY bedroom!” dance. I like those. I add a little Peter Griffin butt wiggle to them.

- The fake “looking for the remote control because, oh yeah, that’s right, I can WATCH television” gag. That never gets old.

- The “oh, you don’t like what we’re having for dinner? Why didn’t you speak up? OH, that’s right, you weren’t IN on the conversation because your GROUNDED.” conversation at the dinner table.

- The animated chatting to absolutely no one on your cell phone as you pace the hallway outside the bedroom door of the grounded individual because, that’s right, you still HAVE a cell phone!

- Finally deciding to get on with that YouTube video series on the secret life of a grounded teenager.

Now, I do draw the line and going out for a family dinner and leaving the grounded person in the car, that just seems a little extreme to me.

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It’s Tuesday, but I want to talk about Sunday.

Sunday marked the first Sunday since school began. The kids have been shoving papers in my face to sign all week, doing homework already, texting-texting-texting, and becoming increasingly grumpy at being forced to get up at a certain time instead of the free non-existent schedules that summer vacation brings. In short, adjustments. Blech.

Being the most awesomely, observant mom in the house I knew it was my job to designate Sunday as family day.

Saturday night at dinner I said, “Ok, I think tomorrow we’ll call it a movie/tv day and we’ll flop out in the family room to enjoy some movies and family time. Maybe we’ll even play a game or something.”

They looked at me dubiously. They, meaning the kids, Mike was still happily stuffing his face and pretending no one was attempting to plan his Sunday for him.

“The only catch will be that cell phones are not allowed. For anyone. Maybe we’ll make it a ritual. We’ll all turn our phones off and dump them into a basket that no one is allowed to touch until Monday morning.” I added with a big stupid hopeful smile.

Ethan grimaced, glared and growled, “Does the no cell phone rule start when you guys get up?” He was clearly referencing our penchant for sleeping in late on Sundays.

Instead I took it as a sign of happy negotiation from someone who was willing to cooperate.

“Of course! That sounds fair!”

He growled, “Brilliant.” and then added an eyeroll just for good measure.

Sunday morning I awoke filled with hope. I stepped out onto the deck to look at the backyard which now appears to be quite tired from producing summer’s natural fireworks aka zinnias and other assorted blooms. I marveled at a huge black and yellow butterfly, a big orange butterfly, a bright blue dragonfly, and a brilliant hummingbird. I felt as if Mother Nature herself were telling me to take it easy and smell the roses… er… zinnias or somewhat seedy basil, maybe. Then I realized that sweat was dripping down the back of my neck, the sun was scorching down like a bad desert scene, and the heat was making me nauseous.

Aha! An, even stronger sign that it was a good day to remain inside under the air conditioning and enjoy some time spent in the bosom of my loving family.

Mike and I tripped downstairs where he proceeded to plant himself in front of the television and become “The Remote Nazi” switching channels during commercials and making it somewhat difficult to keep up with either show. When one show ended he rapidly found some worse program starting and appeared to pout when I vetoed “Bonanza” reruns. Apparently, it had little to do with finding something to entertain the entire family but more to do with the vast household conspiracy to eliminate all Bonanza viewing.

Ethan had planted himself in the other room finishing up homework that I could have sworn he finished Friday afternoon. Maggie bounced around the house as if someone had put ground crack into her breakfast cereal along with the sugar. I began to suffer a new bout of nausea brought on by the schizophrenic television viewing of “Grounded for Life” reruns and “The Dillinger Conspiracy.”

I got up and decided to bake some cookies, hoping ass loads of carbs, sugar, and chocolate would warm the testy, grumpy hearts of my family. No such luck. Although, I did witness a 4 year old throwing a terrific fit because she was not allowed to just eat raw cookie dough. This was followed by the sympathetic and completely unhelpful noises coming from her father’s direction.

Kate and Maggie eventually bored of Little Joe’s adventures on the Ponderosa and drifted out of the room. Realizing that we would now be switching between a documentary on Nazis and Hitler (oh, how apropos) and Bonanza I began to wonder if a family day could ever be possible with so many unwilling participants.

Rather than risk any further disappointment, nausea, or headaches I made my way upstairs to catch up on laundry. You know what they say, “You can lead a horse to water but you’ll require a tranquilizer dart to drown him in the trough.”

And, then something magical happened…

__(’Read the rest of this entry »’)

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Parenting teenagers is, at times, like a suburban version of the “Cold War.” It requires dedication, stealth and the ability to constantly remind yourself that age and treachery triumph over youth and skill any day. Therefore, it is imperative to strike first, silently, and with great stealth.

As I write this, it’s still early in the evening on Tuesday night and in about 5 or 6 hours my children will be home from their tropical vacation. But, in their minds, they will still be on “Island Time.” Which, as it turns out, is not some bullshit Jimmy Buffet made up.

They’ll arrive home late, the luggage will be left in the entry way. They might be talkative for the first 20 minutes and then they’ll crash into travel induced comas.

They’ll slowly trudge downstairs in the morning probably tired and a more than a little grumpy over the prospect of returning to their normal and very un-tropical existence. This is where Maggie comes in since she’ll be bouncing around them like a Pomeranian puppy on crack. This, of course, will have nothing to do with Mike and I spending all day prior pumping her up and explaining to her that Bubby and Katie will be here when she wakes up in the morning. However early that may be. Don’t gasp and tell me how horrible I am, this child is an absolute necessity to my strategy of keeping the teenagers just a little off balance.

MY GOD people! We’re talking about my very survival here!

Mike and I will try to be patient until one of us trips over the afore mentioned luggage for the 10th time. But, it’s that moment when we ask them to haul their luggage upstairs and unpack that reality will really set in. That’s when the war will really be on. We’ll hear the huffs, we’ll see the eyes roll and I will look at Mike and quietly I’ll whisper, “Yeah, missed you too, you little bastards.”

They are teenagers, it is perfectly acceptable for me to refer to them this way. All is fair in love and war, people, now say it with me…

This is the part that can be just a little tricky. We’ll have to step carefully here, one sudden move and they’ll have us by our jugulars. I hear that can be pretty uncomfortable, so we won’t dare to suggest that they return to their normal chore routine lest we inspire a full blown mutiny. No, instead we’ll give them a day or two before we suggest that the empty soda cans and dirty glasses that are piled in their rooms be returned to the kitchen so that the rest of the family can avoid drinking out of their hands or left over McDonald’s cups or something.

By the end of the week it might be safe to remind them that there is a chore list for each of them on the refrigerator. Maybe. I’m keeping this option open as their may be more subtle ways of handling the situation.

By next week, provided they’ve caught up with all of their friends after their “long absence” from their typical social circles, we’ll suggest that they begin some basic summer projects like cleaning out their closets.

Of course, Ethan will be attending summer school so to suggest that he clean out his closet as well when he’s trying to balance a social life, a wonderful girlfriend, summer school, and all of his other hobbies would be akin to suggesting that one should store expensive cigars in a cookie jar with the Oreos.

And all of that hinges on whether or not we have eased them back into their chore schedule without waking up with pineapples rammed up our asses and tiny umbrellas shoved under our fingernails. Subtlety is NOT in the teenager nature, therefore any attacks from that side will include explosions, rash decisions and most likely, brutality.

That’s why the first attack must be from our side, it must be swift, clear, yet subtle. Some might say sneaky, because it could easily be mistaken as a crude attempt to lull them into a sense of false security. It’s not though, it’s a multi-leveled, well thought out plan of attack. They won’t know what hit them.

Don’t think they don’t have a plan of attack. They’ll come back with little grenades called “souvenirs” and “gifts.” They can be sneaky… sneaky, but never subtle that is.

Therefore, our plan of attack must be in place before they ever arrive home. While they were on a plane I was preparing for the arrival of my offspring much like I did before their births. Well, minus the pretty nursery and me still making their beds and putting their cutesy, teeny clothes away. I cleaned the house from stem to stern. Floors were mopped and vacuumed, dishes were put away, the kitchen was scoured from top to bottom, and all the towels were washed. I was even kind enough to tidy up their bathroom that is supposed to be their responsibility that they slipped out of town without taking care of.

They will come into a house that is orderly, neat, tidy and they will mistake it to be a welcome home gesture. Ahhh. But it is so much more for clearly, the house is clean, no chores are required.

And that, my friends, is where it begins. Like a silent, ninja concrete filled boot from behind slamming right into their behinds.

Wish me luck!

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My kids are in Oahu for 7 days. Well, less than that now since they’ll be back on Tuesday.

Tropical paradise… I’m trying not to envy the little bastards but it’s getting hard. Especially when I receive things like this on my cell phone:

My lovely daughter sent me that their first night there. It’s the view from their hotel room.

*sigh*

All I know is that if I don’t get a couple of boxes of chocolate covered Macadamia nuts out of this someone is going to catch hell. In the meantime, it’s just Mike, Maggie and I. Oh, and occasionally Tim who we’ve sort of just adopted. I’m moving up from animals back up off me, man!

Tuesday night Maggie let the stupid bird out of his cage. He flew into the ceiling fan, got caught in the wind current, was thrown into the wall and landed on the back of the couch. He sat there looking rather stunned and shaking his head. Thank God Liza was asleep and missed it because I don’t think he’d have lasted long. I think that bird was not blessed with the normal brain birds get.

Yesterday we were going to take Maggs to the movies. Kung Fu Panda. Maggie got up around 9am and went back to bed at 11, slept until almost 2, woke up and went back to sleep on the couch until around 5 when she woke up and promptly puked. After that she was back in the game 100% - twenty minutes after puking she had let Sophie loose and I found Sophie standing up on her hind legs barking at Tim.
I think she was totally getting off on someone being intimidated by her! They (Ethan and Tim) both swear that Sophie has bit them… I don’t believe it for a second. My little angel wouldn’t ever do that!

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