Breaking Dawn...

So this is really the deal.  I have my new juicer/blender/pulvarizer and I am up on my green smoothies...three down, all good, feeling vegan.  I am removing as much processed food and sugar as I can without being an obnoxious tree hugging paper eater and I am adding Bikram Yoga to my repertoire.  Tonight was my second shot at it and I am proud to say, I still suck but I didn't pass out so this is a good thing.  My friend Amy Gold - for those who don't know her - is among my most down to earth friends.  She is as real as it gets and you either love it or you hate it and I love it.  She is, however, very intimidating to do hot yoga with because she's a very sexy sweater and makes each pose look like she was born doing it where I am a hot, sloppy mess behind her trying not to pass out with the grace and eloquence of an elephant on roller skates, but I digress...

As it begins I unravel my mat to see SMITH emblazoned across the top next to butterfly stickers and realize, I have Olivia's resting mat from kindergarten.  I make it work but Amy has no part of that and retrieves a spare one from her car (who carries TWO yoga mats?  Amy does.)  Shortly into the session, I am smokin'...got my breathing down, looking good, a little glisteny and posing like a champ.  But what is that smell???  10 minutes later, not so much...breathing getting harder, sweat pouring into my eyes, posing not quite as elegant but I am hanging in there.  30 mins in, Amy is giving me the countdowns...5 more poses...okay I can do his except 5 more yoga poses is like 10 more football minutes.  It's never what it sounds like and at 110 degrees, in five more poses I can expect to be a puddle of toxic waste on the floor.  At some point in a very bent over move, my prosthetic breast drops out and rolls onto the floor...  Now I can add humiliation to my heaving and dehydrating and my friend Amy lovingly reminded me that if she had seen it, she would have laughed her ass off.  See what I mean?  You love it or you hate it...I love it, even then.  What is that smell???  Now I'm about an hour in and I am a pile on the floor.  Trying to breath without passing out...instructor said through your nose - WHAT?  If I could cut a hole in my neck to bring in more air, I was willing - through my nose, whatever.  I bury my face in my towel covered mat and I realize that smell I had been smelling for an hour was MINE.  Someone or something had peed on my towel and it has dried so in 110 degrees, hot urine is wafting up my face and I am obsessed with people who are right up on me (really crowded class) thinking the boob chucker peed her pants.  So my chi is gone, my yoga buzz has been replaced with wondering which of my two preschoolers or two dogs peed and never told me or even better, how did it wind up in my linen closet, folded disguised a laundered towel???

Okay so now I am really losing it...I'm over an hour in, in sitting poses, watching the lotus that is Amy who is signaling to me only two more...liar.  Two more before we start the breathing and that sucks because I can't breathe how I want - I have to do this Lamaze thing that causes my boob to jiggle and slide over to the other one across my now sopping chest.  Lights are brought down...it's a sign we are now ending.  Oh my gd it's nearly over.  Now we are laying down...my gd we really are done.  90 minutes.  Holy shit I did it.  Nice man brings me a frozen lavender towel...it's the moment, the feng shui of yoga - I have arrived - I am buried beneat this frozen goddess of linen.  Cool air is coming in, I am done.  I can't move, I am now half liquid but I am done.

Hobble to the car and make plans to meet Amy again on Tuesday.  What the hell...



  

Crazy yes, Sexy no...

So my fatigue has taken a turn for the worst.  I am exhausted most all the time and I can't seem to get enough rest or sleep to make it even just a tired day.  Yes, chemo is cumulative and yes, 12 months of injected poison will take its toll but am I doing all I can to help?  err...no.  I teach four year olds four days a week in preschool...I adore them, they keep me laughing and in many ways they keep me going but the situation can also be life sucking and I struggle with whether I am cheating them in my fatigue but that's a work in progress and giving them everything is my goal.  My own children have me from sun up to long past sun down and they can also be energy vampires - they deserve more than they are getting.  My husband is my safe place, my sanctuary and yet even he, in a simple conversation, can break me down because sometimes just finding enough syllables to form a word is challenging.  So I review...am I eating what I need to be?  No.  Am I doing all the exercising I said I would be doing?  No.  Am I sleeping enough?  Enough?  Well...okay, am I sleeping?  Yes.

So here we go...Crazy, Sexy Cancer Diet.  This granola guru has the answers she says.  I need a whole foods plant based diet and a lot of yoga. She came back from stage 4 cancer with living this way...whatever, I don't do that kind of tree hugging thing but I AM willing to give this a shot.  Just buying the book meant I was open to it.  Giving up Diet Coke is a definite but giving up coffee?  um...I'm pissy already just thinking about it.  And no...green tea is NOT equally satisfying.  A spinach smoothie does not taste like a milkshake and fresh broccoli steamed lightly enough to preserve enzymes is not a fulfilling side dish so let's just be honest before we begin.  If I need to do this, I will but I won't do it under the notion that I will enjoy all the raw food has to offer.  I will be open to feeling joyous later about it but right now I reserve the right to bitch.

I bought my super powered Vitamix blender wondering if a day spa with all the trimmings...about the same price, wouldn't be more fun but I digress...yes, once it arrives, I will be smoothing my way to health.  I am totally committed to doing whatever I have to do...and I will begin right after Thanksgiving.

I mean c'mon...let's be real here.  No stuffing?

Suck it up babes...

Okay so parent teacher conferences were yesterday...well I am a recovering "my kid is perfect" mom.  After 16 years, I get it...my kids make mistakes...big ones and it's my job to help them be less entitled and more humble.  I take it seriously.  I have friends - lots of them - who make it a point to praise their kids for waking up, showing up and wearing a shirt and pants in the right order.  I spot it because I was it...I made sure my kids knew every day that the world was happy just because they were born.  A disservice?  Um...yes.  A better lesson?  Suck it up, you will be fine.  I told my daughter every minute of her life that she can be anything she wants...well y'know what?  She won't be a rocket scientist- math is her deficit.  Is it kinder to let her think math is the problem and NOT her or is it better to help redirect her to where her talents will flourish?

I know someone whose daughter cried after an interview at a fast food restaurant because the manager cancelled and rescheduled and then was late causing her undue stress at her first job application process.  It caused me to wonder...am I that mom?  I have taken pride in providing my kids soft landings and I will be that mother until the last breath of life has left me but I am also here to remind them that people suck, animals die and life is a bitch...a real bitch and letting them out into the world with the notion that they will be embraced and praised for walking upright and breathing involuntarily isn't kind at all.
Just because I have the four most amazing children ever doesn't mean everyone else thinks so...in fact, everyone else doesn't think so and that's probably the best lesson they can learn.

A history teacher that is part Nazi, part Amin, part sadist has my daughter for an hour a day.  He's an eye rolling ass with a disdain for kids...no question and in my conference with them yesterday, it became very clear to me Maddie isn't his favorite. (what??? gasp!).  But y'know what?  I wanted very much to petition to remove her from his class.  She can't do anything just right enough for him and she hates it.  Every part of us wanted to fix this.  We chose to take the harder role...he is not just Maddie's teacher, he's a window to difficult people with which she can peer through and learn from.  Welcome to the rest of your life Maddie.  He's your father in law, he's your boss, he's your neighbor.  We are your advocates, We are your best allies and I am your bodyguard...if he is abusive, I will go totally LA on his ass and never stop until he's fired but if he's difficult, challenging and harsh...well, put up and shut up.  He can ask you to jump in a lake and you can come home to tell us about it, but you better be wet (Joseph's favorite parenting lecture).  I don't like it...not one bit and I hated telling her we decided she would stay in this class.  I was actually physically uncomfortable saying it...I could feel my heart pounding.  She was upset, begged for us to reconsider and then at the end of our call agreed it won't be easy but she will do it.

I found more satisfaction as a parent in her resolve to face it down than run away from it.  I find myself on better footing and Joseph and I both agreed this was the right thing despite our desire to hold her to our bosom as we face the storm in advance of her.  I'm proud of her.  I always am.  Even when she screws up.  Almost especially then.

In the interest of full disclosure, I put the Nazi on notice...you fuck with my kid, I will be your worst nightmare.

I never said I was good at this letting go shit.  I just said I did it.