**Que? Ya-nee-poo-nee-my-you!

My baby girl turned 15 on Tuesday.  As most of you know, she was adopted from Russia when she was almost 7.  Watching her blossom and grow has been the best thing I could have ever done for my soul.  She is a beautiful child, inside and out.  Learning English as a second language though is tough, yet she has persevered and done an amazing job mastering this crazy language.  But I have to admit, listening to her learn English provided many hours of entertainment.  So much so, that her dad used to write down her sayings on his phone.  We called them YoungestChild'sName-isms. Here are some examples... Enjoy!

• glove department = glove compartment; as in, "Dad, can you get me some napkins out of the glove department?"

• go fish = gold fish, as in, "My favorite crackers are go fish crackers."

• Border Control = Border Patrol  "Were they arrested by Border Control?"

• workin' on a stinker....she tried to keep up with her gross brothers, 'nuf said

• "(How) To Kill a Mockingbird"  Three summers ago, my kids had to read To Kill a Mockingbird for their summer project with me.  Every time she referenced the book, she always threw in the "How" in front of the title.

• dandrum = dandruff, as in, "I think I might have dandrum."

• "don't throw it at me hardly, throw it softly" when her dad was teaching her to play catch

• "no eye-er" when she was playing the basketball game of HORSE with her dad and her trick shot was one with her eyes closed, it was a "no eye-er"

• "This burger is big...like an 'Inside Out' burger."  instead of In-n-Out burger.

• "Out of the bloom (blue)"...  "It just hit me out of the bloom!"

• whoppers = loppers  When trimming trees, "do you need help with the whoppers, Dad?"

• "You know what....whippity-doo!"  She still says, "You know what?" when she's mad.  I think whippity-doo was supposed to be whoopity-doo!

• And my most favorite -ism; about 6 months after she arrived in the States, we went to Knott's Berry Farm and we were in line for a ride and the guy next to us STUNK, she turned to me and said quietly, "he no good smell."

We don't get very many -isms from her anymore.  It's almost a secret victory for KC and me when she says one now and she gets very offended when we giggle and will turn to her dad and say, "DO NOT WRITE THAT IN YOUR PHONE!"  Love that kid.  She's really more like a young lady now.  My, how time flies. It seems like only yesterday when, after I explained what "being pregnant" meant, she patted my stomach and asked, "oh, you have a baby in there?"  Like I said, love that kid.


**For those of you wondering about the headline... Que? = What? in Spanish and Ya-nee-poo-nee-my-you  is the phonetic version of saying, "I don't understand you" in Russian.

Feeling a little like Ann Landers on the Lion King soundtrack, but that's a good thing...

I have really missed blogging.  I decided not to put my thoughts down in print for a while because I was pretty angry with a parent who was making my life a living hell and really disappointed about how people with a higher pay grade than me handled it and I knew that anything I wrote was going to be laced with sarcasm and nastiness.  Not that sarcasm and nastiness don't have their place....I was just afraid it would consume me and I wouldn't be able to write anything but.  That would get old quickly and you wouldn't want to read, and I wouldn't want to write, my blog anymore so I decided to take a break until I was in a better place (mentally and physically!)

I am now in Michigan for the summer. Being here brings me a lot of peace and happiness.  Partly because I'm with my family, partly because I'm in the cooler weather and I feel a ton better (Arizona summer heat and MS do not mix), partly because I'm not dealing with horrible parents right now, and partly because I'm in my comfort zone; this is where I fit in and can be myself.  Although, since arriving in the state I grew up in, I have discovered that living in Tucson for 20 years has rubbed off on me and I have become more of a hippie than I realized.  And I'm not even embarrassed about it. (Don't worry, conservative ones, I still have some beliefs that balance me out.)  I'm also feeling energized because I have started a new adventure selling It Works! products.  I used them, loved them, and knew I would feel confident selling them.  I'm not going to try to convince you of the products' merits here but have found people's reactions, when learning of my new endeavor, fascinating.  Some aren't interested in learning about them right now, some are excited to use them, some think I'm hawking snake oil, and the one I find most odd - some seem to be threatened that I'm trying to change my station in life.  When I pondered this further, it seems there are always people who, whenever anyone wants to make a change for the better in their life, take the attitude of  "Who do you think you are? Don't upset the status quo."  Why is that?  I guess it's human nature, I'm sure I've been guilty of doing it but as I've been on the receiving end of that mentality recently, I've been (over) analyzing it and have decided that maybe people think there is a limited supply of good fortune.  I don't think there is a finite supply of success - or love; just because I am successful doesn't mean that I've taken that away from someone else. Nor if I love my husband with all my heart, does that mean that when my children came along, I had to love him less to be able to love them.  If anything, I think loving them made me love him more.  So, me really going for it with this opportunity and being successful will mean a windfall for me, as well as many people around me.  When I buy a new car, build a new house, need higher insurance limits, acquire beautiful art and furniture, hire a cleaning service, get more frequent haircuts, manicures and massages, go to yoga daily, travel more often, and donate more money to charity, many, many people benefit but I can't identify anyone who loses.  This is a good reminder for me.  When others accomplish their goals, I don't lose.  If anything, I win because they will be more apt to try my products (and when they try them, they'll love them and will continue to buy them!  sorry, couldn't resist.) so it's important to root for everyone!  It keeps the good energy circle going - the circle I want to be a part of.  So good luck to any of you contemplating change.  I wish you success and will be genuinely happy for you when you achieve it!  Now go out and do it!  Another good reminder for me.

Still flare free.... bummer?

Today was my bi-annual neurologist appointment.  After answering my usual page worth of questions that I have thought of in between visits, my doctor proceeds with the normal exam....

Follow my finger, look at my nose - can you see my fingers moving (as he moves them almost out of my peripheral vision), squeeze my fingers, pull my arms, and my least favorite, touch my finger - your nose - then my finger again.

I hate that one because if I've had caffeine that day, my finger shakes and he will say with glee, "uh oh, you have a tremor - we need to watch that."  No doc, I just have a Diet Coke addiction.... I purposefully didn't have a soda at lunch and breezed through the routine with no tremor.  I notice him frowning.  I then have to do the drunk walk - walk a straight line, heel to toe.  "Your balance is perfect," he begrudgingly remarks and then he pulls out the reflex hammer and I know what's coming.  Before I was diagnosed, KC used to hit my knee and laugh hysterically because it would go flying.  We couldn't go anywhere in the car without him doing it to me so when the doctor taps my knees, I notice KC watching longingly.  My legs kick out wildly, as usual.  "That's the MS," he says cheerfully.  Yeah, I know; I guilted KC into not tapping my knees five appointments ago, when you first told me.  Poor Kase, those days are gone, buddy.

We discuss when my next MRI should be and he sadly remarks that I've been flare-free for almost three years and don't need another one for at least two more years, "unless you have another flare sooner," he says hopefully.  But then he sighs and adds, "Other than your reflexes, you are completely without symptoms."  Why the disappointment, doc?  I want to tell him that sometimes there are days that I actually even forget I have MS but instead I feel obliged to say, "I know, I feel great but I worry there is a flare coming around the corner."  He perks up.  "You're probably right," he replies.  But then, he adds the obligatory, "but things look really good, so you could go for a long time without having one."  I swear I heard him say under his breath, "but it's doubtful."  Let's just order the wheelchair now.

After the appointment, KC and I debrief.  Strangely, he didn't see the appointment transpire that way.  "Great news, huh?  Let's go celebrate." So glad he surprised me by showing up at the appointment or I'd have come home and crawled into bed.  The appointment really did go well, but I won't be satisfied until he tells me I'm cured or at least, don't ever have to worry about another flare.  I think KC knows that and that's why he showed up.  So instead of crawling into bed, I went to the Cheesecake Factory with my family.  I liked that so much better.  Besides, my birthday is in two days so there will be plenty of time for crawling into bed with the covers over my head in full-on pity party mode.

An oldie but...

This is an oldie (not that old, btw) but it still applies.

In exactly one month I turn 40.
Forty.
Four-tee.

A friend from high school had a book published and a reviewer described him as being middle-aged. Middle-what??? That was my first 'blow to the stomach' moment with this looming birthday.

I'm very conflicted with this. I look at my peers who are 40 and frankly, think they look great. Not what I envisioned 40 to look like when I was 20. But then I realize that if I were to ask some 20 year olds today about those peers, they'd say something different. It truly is all about perspective. I think I look okay; not Jennifer Aniston 40 but not Bea Arthur (when she was 40) either. But it's much more than about how I look because if I put some more effort (and possibly money) into it, I can change that. It's about the sand in the hour glass.

I have to accept that there are things that I said I was going to do that I did not do; some of them I really planned on doing and some of them I only daydreamed of doing. The fact that I no longer have the option is what I'm mourning. Some things I probably lost the option with a long time ago (like that Olympic medal) but this big birthday makes me face it. I think the problem is when you're little, you dream of what you're going to do when you grow up; heck, people ask you about it, on a weekly basis, so you think about it, a lot. But while you're in your twenties, nobody ever says, "what do you want to be when you become middle aged?" so you don't think about it. And then, it's here. And I'm not ready.

I think I need some serious beach time to contemplate this next chapter.

Ugh. "Middle-aged"?

Old?! I am not!

I watched the movie, 17 Again, about a 40-something man who magically gets transformed back to the age of 17.  There's a scene where the younger version of the character (Zac Effron) looks at his body in amazement and exclaims how great he feels.  I had never consciously noticed not feeling good anymore, but when I started thinking about it, that's probably a fair assessment.  When did that happen?  Then the next day, I went to yoga and there were poses I used to do in high school every day before practice without a second thought but when I attempted the pose two days ago, my body said, "uh, old lady, you haven't done this in 20 years, are you kidding me?"  How fitting that I have a birthday coming up. I'm kind of past being depressed about the actual number changing, I'm really more sad about the time I have left running out.  I read somewhere about the possibility of humans living (healthily) to 140.  One hundred more years!  I would have no excuses not to do everything I want to do!  I think I could still do most things I want now but I find myself dismissing doing them on account of  "I'm too old."  I'm too old to start a business, I'm too old to make a career change, I'm too old to learn a new language, I'm too old to have a baby, and the list goes on.  Then I ask myself, "When did I become old?" because, truthfully, I don't think of myself as old.  Maybe I'm not really too old, but damn, I am too tired.  Since the big day is fast approaching, I can say with certainty that this isn't the last entry about the subject.

Ditch Digger with Traveling Pants?

The grading quarter ended Friday so all my children have been in a mad dash to tie up loose ends in their schoolwork to try to raise any grades they can.  Middle Kid, oh Middle Kid... he decided he would start reading his book last weekend for his book report due the following Wednesday, buuuuttttt, he hadn't gotten a book from the library yet - he thought that would buy him another day of freedom from having to start it.  I looked at his list of approved books and realized I owned several of the titles, including  Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, a favorite of mine (the second and third books of the series, not so much).
"Here."  I handed MK the Sisterhood book.
"Mom.  Really?  No."
"It's an easy read.  You don't have time anymore.  Sorry."
"You have Treasure Island, I'd rather read that."
"You read the first chapter of Treasure Island, then come talk to me about it and we'll see."
He read the first chapter and, while he said he liked it, realized it wasn't going to be read in a week's time.  Traveling Pants it is.

When will I learn?  He didn't freakin' read the book.  He went to Spark's Notes and got the gist of the book and then proceeded to b.s. his way through his report.  He didn't even have the sense to watch the darn movie.  Middle Kid, Ditch Digger, Extraordinaire.  Or maybe not.  Maybe he learned more from his ability to bullshit than he would have ever learned from the book.  Middle Kid, politician.  Ugh, no.  I think I'd rather have him dig ditches.  Let's try this again, Middle Kid, Salesman of the Year.  Mmmmm, can't really see it.  Middle Kid, Typical Teenager So Quit With the Worrying, Mom.  Yeah, that sounds right.

Let the ass chewings begin!

Last night, middle child had a drumline competition in Phoenix where their performance time was TEN THIRTY p.m. (yeah, I said the same thing you just said) so he wasn't expected back at the school until 1:30 a.m.-ish.  Middle Kid (MK) has been struggling with his grade in physics class, as in, he's been struggling with deciding he should do the work to earn the grade, so we've been helping him in the motivation department.  Part of that includes taking possession of his cell phone.  Since he wasn't going to be back in town until early in the morning, KC gave him his phone back for the day, along with $20 for food.
Having children is not cheap and we're like many families in America today- our income has decreased rather than increased in recent years but our expenses have done just the opposite.  Because of this, we've done some trimming where we would feel the least amount of pain - dropped the satellite package to fewer channels, sold the convertible that only seated two, became coupon clippers and weekly circular scourers, and dropped the bells and whistles on the home phone package so it is just for local or emergency calls since we have free long distance on our cell phones.  We've been very upfront with the kids about our financial situation and have explained the changes we've made along the way, including NO LONG DISTANCE on the home phone, unless it's an emergency.  Well, MK's girlfriend originally lived in Indiana and her dad still lives there and provides her with her cell phone so it's an Indiana number.  You know where I'm going with this, right?  Since we took away MK's cell phone, and he's a 15 year old boy with raging hormones, he's going to talk to his honey one way or another.  When I got home from work yesterday, I opened the home phone bill to discover it was double what it should be due to long distance charges.  Middle Kid was in Phoenix so the ass chewing would have to wait until, truth be told, probably the morning because 1:30 a.m. was gonna be tough for me to even be awake, let alone fired up and awake.  And, as long as we're being honest, KC was probably going to be the only one awake when MK sent a text asking to be picked up. 
About 10:30 p.m., the SWAT pager went off, again.  KC had just gotten back from a call out at 7 p.m. and had been kvetching at our late dinner about how much he'd been working lately.  This time he looked at the pager, got up and went in the other room with his radio, but instead of starting to get dressed when he came back in the room, he got back into bed.
 "What are you doing?  Aren't you going?" I ask.
"No." he replied as he hit his pillow and laid back down.
"Why aren't you going?"
"Because you won't pick our boy up at 1:30, you'll let him walk home."
For the sake of disclosure, we live two blocks away from the school - in a neighborhood one would definitely classify as 'safe' and in a climate one would call mild or temperate this time of year - so he could walk home just fine, but I would not make him walk when he called for a ride. Although it would probably cross my mind when I'm snuggled in my bed asleep at 1:30 in the morning.  Still, I feign offense.
"I would not!  Rude."
Just then, the pager goes off again.  KC looks at it, says a few cuss words and gets up.
"Full call-out?"  I ask.
He pulls his pants on, laces up his boots, leans over, kisses my forehead and says, "don't forget Middle Kid," then walks out.
I turn the volume on my phone up as high as it will go so I'll be sure to hear the 'ding' when I get a text and place the phone on my nightstand, right next to my side of the bed.  The next thing I know, Lilly is doing her 'wooh wooh' bark that she does when she's glad to see someone she loves.  I look at the clock, it's 2 a.m.  Discombobulated, I look at my phone.  No text from MK; did he get a ride from a friend?  I get up and go out to the kitchen where there is no middle child but KC is home, stripping off all his gear. It usually takes him a little while to wind down when he gets home from work so I say to him,
"Oh good, you're home.  You can pick up MK."
"He's not home yet?!"
"Haven't heard from him," I say as I head back to bed.
At four o'clock in the morning, KC finally comes back to bed.
"Uh, dumbass, next time you tell someone his kid isn't home yet, you might want to check the kid's bed to be sure of that information.  I've been texting him since I got home and when he still hadn't responded after two hours, I started going through the questions in my head that we ask parents when we go to take a missing child report.  I went into his room and whaddya know, there he was, sound asleep."
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry," I mumble as I roll over and doze back off.
Looks like Middle Kid isn't the only one getting his ass chewed in the morning.