One in three women will get cancer in her lifetime.
Considering my twin brother, Steve (yes, his REAL name) has been battling cancer for a few years, now (AND WINNING!)
I am committed to finding and sharing ways in which women can lead a healthier lifestyle.
Especially, moms like me - I mean, we do tend to put our children's needs first, right?
So, in lieu of sending me birthday presents (ahem) I thought it would be nice to do something special, right here, on my blogger-with-children-who-does-not-blog-about-her-children-mostly-type-um-blog.
[sound of crickets chirping]
So, in honor of my older brother (by 3 minutes, still, older than me) Steve:
For every comment I receive on this post (because, you know, some folks STILL read blogs) I will donate $1.00 of what I've saved through BlogHerAds, this year (up to $100) to the American Cancer Society.
[NOTE: I would be THRILLED with the usual 3 comments -- thankyouverymuch -- but, feel free to pass the word along; I am donating the whole shuh-bang, anyway!]
I will leave comments open for 1 week (because, I know that you are busy) and then post a copy of my donation receipt.
Because, it's My birthday, being nice matters and cancer sucks wet poodle (der!) oh, and Happy Birthday, mah bruh-thuh!
To think, this mommy/daughter mugging for the camera moment was nearly lost, forever!
Last week, I wrote about how we hit the road and drove to Cape May for the weekend (yes, even the Doofus-Dawg seemed excited about his first road trip) and I did promise you pictures, to prove that Jersey is NOT all what you see outside your window, flying over Newark Airport (seriously, dude, we ARE called the garden state) but, my middle girl hid her camera from me, because I broke mine and, you know, she's smart like that.
"You can't use my camera."
Gosh, but some 14 year-olds can get very touchy about using their stuff, right?
Sheesh, I only wanted to grab the memory card and already promised NOT to touch anything else.
"Because, I lost it."
Now, I could've reprimanded Heather for being forgetful, or acting irresponsibly with her stuff, but, well, it would be sort of like talking to myself, really.
Gosh, but some almost 9 year-olds can get very nosey about stuff, right?
Now that ALL the laundry from the trip is done (almost) STILL no camera.
"Quick...take MY picture next!"
I was telling someone at school how upset Heather was (about losing her camera, I mean) and...wait a minute...what the?
"Who's camera is that?"
Long story short (you're welcome!) my youngest daughter found Heather's camera shoved into the pocket behind the driver's seat in the minivan and, well, thank goodness for nosey little almost 9 year-olds!
I took this picture of Hope and Glen (my two youngest) in 2005 -- the year my parents moved out of the house I grew up in -- and, already, my son was very protective of his baby sister.
"I don't want her to fall in da wah-der!"
Didn't matter that my father's koi pond was only about ankle-deep; in true Thompson fashion, my son is a born worrier (he gets that from his father) and, well, his concern for the physical and emotional well-being of everyone around him was sort of, you know, cute.
Last night, however, turned chronic.
"I can't make ANYONE happy."
5 years have passed (I know, wasn't it just yesterday I was blogging about his peeing on a tree?) and, although the stories are pretty much the same (only, with less pee) I find myself feeling as if we BOTH haven't learned a gosh-darned thing.
"I don't understand?"
You see, my 11 year-old son is entering middle school next year and long story short (you're welcome!) let's just say the boy is feeling a little stressed.
"My teacher, you and dad, are ALL pushing me!"
Okay, A LOT STRESSED.
"To do what?"
Seriously, the kid was blowing snot and -- although, my husband and I had already had a talk with his teacher and discussed her concerns over his penchant for day dreaming -- he's been carrying and A/B average and I was at a loss as to why he was SO upset.
"I'm going to fail."
Oh. I know this one. In fact, 5 years ago, during my middle girl's parent-teacher conference, I was the ONLY parent to cheer when her 3rd grade teacher told me that she had failed her 1st math test.
"It's about time the kid learns to fail, something!"
Her teacher agreed, btw.
"All your father and I care about is that you do your best."
Apparently, my son's teacher feels differently.
"She said I was going to get absolutely lost in Middle School!"
Look, I get it. I couldn't do what she does -- teach, someone else's kid, I mean -- however, I know my son and -- although, I think, having our kids attend K-3, switch to another school for grades 4 and 5, and then again to the middle school, our school system hasn't helped to make it ANY easier -- this time, I believe the change will do him good.
"I think you're going to be just fine."
For the next 3 years, anyway.
"Just ask Holly and Heather!"
My 2 oldest daughters have already given him a run down of all the cool teachers and the, you know, not so cool teachers he'll probably get...in middle school.
"What are you doing, Hope?"
My youngest daughter (she's 8) ran out of the room to grab a pen and piece of paper.
"I want to write a letter to the principal of my new school..."
She's graduating 3rd grade next month and is changing schools, too, OY!
"...and I want to tell her that I want Holly's and Heather's teachers, ONLY!"
If ONLY life was that easy, right?
"Don't worry, Hopey, I already told her AND the nurse that my youngest sister is coming!"
You see, some things NEVER change AND my son happens to know that his baby sister is a frequent flyer!
Oh, yeah...him, too...much to the hor-ruh of Garth [not his real name] poor guy.
"It's a BIG house!"
Besides, now that the kids are older and doing all sorts of stuff, on their own, we almost NEVER get to see each other, let alone do stuff, together, anymore. I thought it would be sort of nice to eat dinner...sitting down.
"I call the middle bedroom!"
Actually, the house has five (I counted them...FIVE) bedrooms and a loft with four more (for a total of NINE) beds to choose from. Although, the last time, I guess all the extra leg room sort of creeped my kids out and ALL four of them ended up sleeping in MY bed.
"Okay, but I got dibs on the bathtub!"
Did I mention, the Cape May house has a whirlpool tub (squee!) and it's BIG...too?
"DARNIT, why does mommy always get to go first?"
Needless to say, we ALL had a TERRIFIC weekend (yes, together!) and, well, I hope to show/tell you more about it, real soon.
"What do you mean, she took her camera to school?"
Did I mention, I broke my camera (moment of silence) and, no...I don't blame my 14 yo for not trusting me with hers, either.
One of the ladies at the gym watches The Good Wife and keeps insisting that I would probably love it, too.
You see, besides feeling as if I couldn't possibly relate to anything using the words "good" and "wife" in the same sentence ("big" and "dork," probably) I also have commitment issues with television.
"What time is it on?"
By the time I get home from work, eat and get the kids settled for the night (i.e. get them to at least admit that, you know, it IS bedtime) it's too late.
"Did you watch, last night?"
"D'oh, I forgot it was on."
Actually, I was probably too busy inspecting the inside of my eyelids and/or fighting Doofus-Dawg for the couch.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but..."
This week, however, I learned that work won't be as much of an issue, anymore. In fact, my schedule is about to lighten up, considerably, from 6 months ago.
"...the owner has decided to close up shop, at the end of the month."
Everyone in my family has made sacrifices (trust me, they will ALL tell you, I'm sure) and, well, it will be nice NOT to have to worry about feeling guilty, sort of.
"I'm really, really, sorry."
Long story, short (you're welcome) yeah, sure, the money helped (stupid braces, dumb car insurance, silly college fund) but, my working and being away from my house, 4 days, every week, was putting a real strain on my house.
"If only I had known, ahead of time."
So, in a way, losing this job is really [gulp] a good thing.
"I certainly wouldn't have offered you the hours!"
Having to call the ladies I recently hired (like, just 2 or 3 weeks ago) and tell them that, you know, they are now, un-hired...not so much.
"I'm really, really, sorry."
In fact, way too much.
"It's not your fault."
I am (or, was) the manager (and I use the term very, very loosely) I sorta knew his business wasn't doing very well. Still, I had such GREAT plans and worked really, really hard to keep his customers and employees happy.
"I feel like SUCH an a**hole..."
Man, un-hiring people really, really, does suck. By Tuesday night, I was SO done. I poured myself a glass of wine (i.e. turned the tap on the box) kicked the dog off the couch (sorry, Doofie) and just stared at the television.
"I like you...I didn't start off liking you."
Aaaand, then the part of the The Good Wife came on (see above clip) which made me think of an earlier conversation I had, with a longtime employee, who took pleasure in pointing out the stuff...I did wrong.
"One of the machines is in the wrong place."
Didn't matter if I re-arranged the ENTIRE gym (which, you're supposed to, once a month) without anyone's help and that she could have corrected it (her own self) right?
"You're not the a**hole, here, in fact, we ALL know you worked your a** off, Liz."
Look, I'm not comparing myself to The Good Wife -- that character is a lawyer and I am, well, you know -- however, working lots of hours, being away from her kids and having to work EXTRA hard, feeling as if she has to prove herself, to EVERYONE, because she's a mom.
[bites lower lip]
Yeah, I felt her pain - still do - sort of.
"Shouldn't HE be making these calls?"
My poor husband, Garth [not his real name] what a good guy he is, really.
"Why are YOU apologizing?"
I mean, I already quit trying to be the best wife, or the perfect mother, years ago and he's seems to be okay with it.
"Because, I am a good manager...DAMMIT!"
Or, at least, I was -- now, at least I can keep on pretending to be a good blogger/writer/whatever, right?
[sound of crickets chirping]
Sorry, I just can't seem to quit YOU...Internets...so, I guess you better start getting used to, you know, being stuck with me.