The Year of the Monkey

This new year sneaked up on me the way Christmas did.  I just wasn't ready for it.  I hadn't planned any special event or snacks to ring in the new decade, I hadn't even thought about any resolutions except that nagging weight thing we all think about and the need for writing goals for the new year.

At one point during the last day of the year, as we were scampering around the house, cleaning up the mess we created by accidentally locking the cat in the house while we were in CA for Christmas, I began thinking about the new year, and I panicked...just for a moment. The past decade held many sorrows and trials for us, I had a sudden fear for the year ahead.  What if.....What if....What if....

I was worrying. At the same time my thoughts were racing, my husband was coming down the hall, saw my face, embraced me and soothed me with kisses and words of encouragement.  In a minute, those doubts, those weak lack-of-faith thoughts were gone. The whole episode took less than two minutes.

It was a perfect earthly example of the Heavenly Father's arms.

Deuteronomy 33:27, "The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." How quickly we need to fly into our Father's arms and let Him comfort our fears, soothe our souls and show us His everlasting love.

Since I felt that human need to do something for the new year,  Beka and I planned a trip to Build-A-Bear.

My monkey has been a celebration of my family's support through cancer, and Beka's has been a way to help her cope.  She was 2 when I was first diagnosed, and has needed her own way of living with cancer.

Our love language is monkeys around here; I have loved them since I was a little girl.

When we stopped in the restroom, we were delighted the mall's bathroom was so accomodating.  Our babies rested while we washed our hands. The dollar bins at Target are a great source of for seasonal t-shirts for the BAB animals.

Even the candy machines were following our theme.

At the mall, most of the women my age are getting their nails done, getting facials, make-overs, buying their $1000 purses and their designer clothing.  I was, and always have been, the only Mom walking through this upscale mall holding her own BAB,

                                     

and  the only Mom giving her animal a spa treatment.

Too many choices!  We were enticed by the inline skates and the casual wear, but Beka's heart was really with the formal dresses. I realized that often we parents "guide" our children's choices, so they end up buying what we want them to.  It took a long time for Beka to choose because I repeatedly told her to choose for her, not me. It was an interesting lesson in decision making.

She later discussed this process with her Daddy, and I realized her huge hesitation was that the dress had spaghetti straps, something we choose not to wear as a family for modesty sake.  Her heart is so tender.

We purchased the  formal gowns, then dressed the monkeys near the fountain.  The store was so crowded, everyone in the vicinity that received a BAB gift card for Christmas was in the store. No wonder it took 15 minutes to go the  three blocks from the interstate to the mall.

We tossed my four pennies into the fountain, my next purchase I was short one penny and had to use my debit card. 

I came home tired, trafficed and shopped out, Beka came home and set to making dinner.  I didn't ask her to.  She chopped things for a salad, had Daddy help her make a pizza, then we sat on the cushionless couch (they are STILL drying) and watched a movie together.

We are ready to face a new year, with faith, hope, and acceptance for whatever the year brings, and we'll do it with very well-dressed monkeys.

Build-A-Bear Excursion

A nice quiet Saturday evening was the perfect time to cross one more thing off my

To Do List.

This was a fun chore, one every Mommy should put on her list.

A trip to Build-A-Bear with our matching monkeys.

We had to begin by "bathing" the monkeys with jets of air and soft brushes. Beka had to explain to me how to step on the peddle below the "bathtub" to turn the air on.
Beka is learning to use my camera.

She's getting a little better.

I think she gets it. She also didn't get a dorky look on my face this time.

My monkey looks like she is enjoying her spa day.

Too Many Choices!

Doesn't that sound like the title of a Berenstain Bear book?

After seeing their selection of pajamas, we scrapped that idea.

I can't believe they didn't have footie sleepers or flannel nighties!

This Mommy might have to start sewing again.

We finally made our final decision and dressed our monkeys.

Instead of twins, Beka decided they would be best friends for awhile.

I think that is because she didn't love the same outfit I loved.

But, we'll share.

She learned the art of sharing when she realized that her Mommy buys toys for Beka

AND toys for Mommy.

If I ever bought something for myself, I would always hear her concerned little voice,

"We share, Mommy, wight? We share."

Momma dressing the well-loved Monkey With No Name.

I can't believe I forgot my monkey's name!

Actually, yes I can. I can't even remember my OWN children's names all the time.

A very patient Daddy taking the final shot of the Crazy Monkeys and the dolls.

I'm Tired of Cancer!

 I was tired and achy, but it was too early to go to bed. Instead, I crawled up onto Rebekah's bed so I could be with her while she finished cleaning her room.

Our roles suddenly reversed. She found her Strawberry Shortcake blanket and covered me up. She would occasionally set down what she was putting away and come over and caress my cheek with one of her soft kisses. She would stare at me adoringly, as if I were the most important person in the world.

Knowing that my upcoming surgery and hospitalization would be hard on Rebekah, I thought of a plan to help her prepare her for the inevitable. When I first had cancer, the kids went to Build- A- Bear and created a special monkey with six hearts in it, one for each kid, and with a voice box that says, "I Love YOU!" when you press her arm. Part of my cancer tradition with Rebekah has been to go the the Build-A Bear store each anniversary and buy a new outfit. I plan to have the monkey with the most outfits in the world, because I want to live many, many years. My plan was also to remember the monkey's name, but that part hasn't worked out so well. Little details have begun to slip through my mind like money through a teenager's fingers.

About two years back, I found the identical monkey at the thrift store, so Beka and I have matching monkeys we love to dress and play with. When McDonald's had baby BAB monkeys in their Happy Meals, we suddenly had a very large, adorable family.

I decided if I took the monkey to the hospital, Beka could help pack my suitcase and the monkey's. That way, when she came to visit me, she could also change the clothes for me. Of course, this meant we had to plan a trip to Build-A-Bear to buy matching pajamas for our matching monkeys. I thought I had found a wonderful diversion and a way to make the countdown a little more pleasant.

I knew I needed to broach the actual separation of us being apart. "Beka, aren't you glad that we have been getting used to being apart? I have gone on a few trips and Bethany has been taking care of you every Wednesday."

After a few more minutes of chatting and cleaning, Beka stopped in her tracks and stood next to the bed, her sweet, little face twisted with sobs so large she couldn’t even exhale. I had her crawl onto the bed with me and we snuggled like spoons while she cried and cried. "You have been gone SO much!" I tried everything to console her.

When she had settled down, I asked her if she wanted to pray. I was shocked when she said, "No," but I appreciated her reasoning. "I don't want to start crying again." I prayed with her and the tears began again.

After about 15 minutes, Daddy peaked his head in the door with the Daddy solution, "C'mon, Beka, come sleep with us."


The next morning she woke up so happy and rested, and I was relieved. I asked her how she liked sleeping with us.

"Fine," she said, but wrinkled her nose and continued, "but Daddy takes up a LOT of room!" A few minutes later I discovered where her thoughts had gone to in the following silence.



"I'm tired of cancer."

Jesus With Skin On

Just like they say "Don't Feed the Bears" in national parks, and people do anyway, my family has this habit of feeding my cancer and whining to feed their own. Scott bought a few snacks on the way to the hospital tonight for my MRI. The doctors are trying to better locate the 5mm tumor they will remove April 13th....if they find it.

He ate most of them. In hindsight, maybe I should have eaten more. If sugar feeds cancer and causes tumors to grow, and my tumor is too small to be 100% sure they'll find it, shouldn't I have eaten them all?

Many people have heard the story of the little boy who was scared at night and called his mommy in.

She prayed with him and tried to comfort him with reminders that the Lord was with him,

 he was never really alone.

His precious answer? "But, Mommy, I want Jesus with skin on."

I knew the Lord was with me, but tonight Scott was my Jesus with skin on.

When I get into a tall building, I always have to see the view.
Scott got stuck with filling out yet another set of forms,
while I tried to capture the old Seattle homes with the
backdrop of the snow covered Cascade Mountains.

Notice the warnings on the doors?

Because of the strong magnetic field, there are warnings for many people -

I notice they didn't warn against braces.

If my daughters, Beth and Grace, had been there

would they have been swept into the tube with me and

stuck to the inside by their tinsel teeth?

I was able to stand behind the door away from the magnetism

and get a picture of the latest machine that was supposed to help find this bb sized tumor.

The tube was really small.

I mean really, really, really small.

The technician, Ben, joked that the tube wasn't really that small for me,

because he had people three times my size try to fit into it.

Ben even offered to take a picture of me. He made me smile. It was the last smile I had for about an hour. I looked into the tube, noticed it was about 1/2 the size of the PET scan tube, and noticed this horrible mask they were going to fasten on my face. The clausterphobia was causing me a lot of anxiety.
I told him through tears, "They don't tell you all this stuff when they sign you up for an MRI." He gave me a quick hug, then went out into the waiting room and said, "Mr. P., you need to come. Your wife is crying."

Scott began calming me down with Scripture and strict instructions not to open my eyes, even while I was just sitting there. He helped me wipe my nose, push up my sleeves for the IV, lay down and get comfortable. They had to pad around my head with foam cushions and put in ear plugs. I was feeling squished, and they hadn't even put on the mask yet. When he did fasten it on, I accidentlly opened my eyes and panicked a little. I asked for another moment. The kind technician took off the mast, allowed me to breathe a few more times, close my eyes and try again.

He inserted the IV with strict instructions not to move my arm. With a few final adjustments, the bed was raised and moved into the tunnel.

It was SO dark.

But, instead of panic, I felt peace.

I kept thinking of the verse,

"I am with thee and will keep thee, in all places, saith the Lord."

I knew the Lord was with me, but Jesus with skin on was lovingly rubbing my feet, assuring me with his presence. Once he stopped for some reason, and not feeling his touch, I shook my foot until he began holding it again.

The machine made a noise somewhere between a woodpecker pecking on a quonset and a jackhammer. The noise traveled up and down the machine and I could even feel the vibrations on my hip bones. If I hadn't been under strict instructions to NOT MOVE and NOT TALK I might have been able to come up with a few comedic one-liners.

The technician knew it would be hard for me to get into that tunnel, and he wonderfully praised me on the microphone after each test. But, I don't think he realized the other serious challenge I was facing. He began each new scan with strict instructions not to talk.

For the final test I couldn't swallow or breathe for 30 seconds. It seemed like 30 minutes.

And then, after all the anxiety,

it was over,

and I had survived

with the help of the Lord

and my husband, Jesus with skin on.

If you remember from previous blogs, simple things entertain me.

Mud puddles, window cleaners, the sound of snowflakes.

Tonight, I loved the sqare glass blocks set into a slightly concave pattern.

How DO they do that?