There is much to be said, but the one story that sticks most in my head? Well it is the story of the moment I knew that Lannia and Walter were meant to be.

I first met Walter a few years ago, at our sister Karen’s wedding. It was another beautiful weekend. July, on a mountain top in California, warm and sunny. Anyway. I liked Walter. But I have four siblings, so there have been many wonderful people to meet. For some reason, I tend to enjoy the moment and try not to get too attached.

Over time I noticed that Lannia seemed happy, or rather happier. She seemed less stressed out and more at ease every time I talked to her. That is great. But again, no guarantee.

On Friday night, I sat down at the huge U-shaped table for the rehearsal dinner, already in progress. There were many conversations going on. One of them, across the room, Walter was saying something, I honestly don’t know what he was talking about. I heard no words, just the general noise of the room. But as I looked over, I saw him make a gesture with his thumb, as though his throat were being slit, then he pantomimed the blood spurting out.

Right then. At that moment. I knew. Walter and Lannia were meant to be.

Welcome to the family, Walter!

It’s odd. I remember it fairly clearly. I had been lying on the couch, looking out the big picture window at the evening, and alternately putting the bead in my nostril and blowing it out. This one time, it didn’t come back out. Cue the freaked out mother, trip to ER, and general mayhem to get a cute little pink plastic bead out of my nose.

Tonight, as I was making dinner, Redding walked calmly into the kitchen. He had been playing nicely with Annabella down in the family room. He said, “Mom, I’ve got something fuzzy in my nose.” Since he’s been sick, I figured he just needed to blow his nose. So I got a tissue and started to vigorously coach him through blowing his nose. Then I noticed that really only one side was blowing.

Uh oh.

I asked him to tip his head back and I looked into his tiny 4 year old nostrils. I saw nothing in the one that was blowing, and nothing in the one that wasn’t blowing. Except the nothing was bigger. Was there some sort of black hole forming in my sons nose? I thought not.

“Hold on buddy!” I enthused, as I tried to tip his head farther back and pull the offending nostril out further to get some idea what we were up against. Nothing. Nada. I made no contact, I got no further information. A second of panic and then a brisk trot up the stairs to find my tweezers.

I put the little guy, who really seemed a bit baffled, up on the counter, turned the light on, tipped his head back and took the first shallow dip with the tweezers.

“Are they pointy? Will they hurt me?”

“Just be still, buddy. Just be still, I won’t hurt you if I can help it. The more still you are, the more careful and gentle I can be.”

About the time I burst into a mild sweaty panic, I made contact. I pulled the small round felt black olive out of his nose.

Then we had a hug and a nice tedious repetitive chat about how “We Don’t Put Things Up Our Noses.” Never ever ever ever again, got it? Period. End of story.

What finally got me over the hump? What made me write today? Certainly my kids have done loads of cute and wonderful things in the last few weeks. I’ve got photos to prove it, not that I’ve posted even one of them. Both kids are going to camp next week, that alone is HUGE.

I’ll tell you what got me over this awful hump. This morning we were in the car, driving to the gym where I teach yoga. Patsy Cline came on the radio (you gotta love The Current) and I said, “When I was little, I remember my Nana used to play Patsy Cline.”

Redding said, “Who is Nana?” I reminded him that it was Grandma Pam’s Mom. My Mom’s Mom.

Annabella said, “I wish we could go see her again.” I told them we can’t go see her anymore, she died a while back.

Redding asked, “Where is she?” I semi-redirected him and said that she had lived in Pennsylvania, where Grandma Pam lives, and that she is buried there.

Annabella asked if we could go visit her grave and leave her presents. I said, “Maybe someday, sweetie.”

Redding said, “I wish Grandma Pam would come visit.”

And that is when I finally told my kids that my Mom has cancer. That she’s sick, that she’s not up for traveling these days. But that she loves them very much. I did it in the car, looking at the road, listening to Patsy Cline. And I managed not to cry or be dramatic about it.

So there. I climbed a mountain.

In a few weeks, I’ll climb another. Walking all night on Friday, August 5, my Mom’s birthday, in the Relay for Life. If you’d like to contribute, you can click here. I’ve raised $815, with the help of generous family and friends and I’m very grateful.

Now you can comment. Tell me what hurdles you’re facing. Tell me something beautiful. Just tell me something. I’ll use this Random Number Picker to select a winner, on Friday, August 5. Winner will be notified by e-mail.

We ordered 300 pieces, we were shorted 62 of them. Excellent.

We were given a 5 hour window for delivery. 7 a.m. to noon. The 238 pieces were delivered at 12:45 p.m. Right on!

The truck was not equipped to put the 16′ pieces into our nearly empty 2 car garage. So they put the unwrapped pieces down across the open garage door, rendering our garage useless. Superb.

So, tonight, while I take both kids to Annabella’s soccer practice, Andrew will be moving the pieces of siding into the garage. Just what he had in mind for a peaceful evening without the family. Smashing!

Here’s a picture from your actual birth day. Taken by your dad. I just don’t think he could have been more proud to have you in our family.

You were a preemie, but at 33 weeks and weighing 4 lbs. 4 oz. you were a huge (to us), strong, amazing baby boy. Oxygen? No thanks! You did all your own breathing, of room air no less! Blood transfusion? Nah, save it for the babies who need it! You just needed a little sunbathing under a billy-light and you were good. Oh, and to learn how to eat. Suck, swallow, breathe, it’s a complicated process. I get it. Three weeks later, you were home with us. Amazing.

So now you’re 4 years old. I can’t believe it. I know you’ve been having some growing pains. It’s tough when you can’t make all your own decisions. But I like that kind of fire. Someday, you’ll make all your own decisions and I’m sure they’ll be great.

You already know what you want 99% of the time. That’s a trait that I admire, though I can’t say I possess it. Your sister Annabella is much the same. Those comparisons? They aren’t going to go away any time soon. You’ll always be your own person, I promise, but Annabella will always be our frame of reference.

Although she sometimes can’t be bothered to acknowledge you when you speak to her these days, she was giddy when she found out she would have a brother. She loved you up, as much as possible, all your baby days. She cheered you on when you learned to walk. She read you stories as soon as she learned how to read. Though there will undoubtedly be some challenges when you are teens, she’ll always love you, she’s your sister.

Dad and I, we give you to each other. Our greatest act of strength and our greatest act of hope.

Love, Mom

I’m very proud of what we were able to accomplish and eternally grateful for the support of friends and family, year after year.

This year I’m raising money for a different cause. I won’t be hitting up anyone twice. On August 5th, I will participate in The American Cancer Society’s – Relay for Life. And I need your support again.

Right now, I am powerless as my mom fights pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer is what took out Patrick Swayze. It is old-school, hard-to-battle cancer. Prognosis for anyone diagnosed is just ugly. There is no screening for this cancer. There is just a wall of ugly news.

August 5th is my mom’s birthday.

Please consider sponsoring me as I do what little I can to try to make sense, find meaning, push for a cure, better treatment, some kind of screening…

Thank you,
Dawn

Turns out there isn’t. Yeah.

So what I needed to do was find a way to bring some lightness back into my everyday life.

If November is a month to be grateful, perhaps February should be a month of ways to brighten your mood in the face of the coldest dregs of Winter in Minnesota. Yes, I know I chose to live here. That doesn’t make it easy.

Today being February 3, I’ll catch up with 3 day brighteners.

1) Flickr.com – Review your old photos. I reviewed mine and got a handle on why I’m here and what I’m supposed to be doing. Review the photos of your family or friends. Find out, maybe, that a pretty talented artist thinks that one of your fairy photos is amazing.

Smile.

2) Calvin and Hobbes – Loved this comic back in the dark age, when I actually saw paper copies of a newspaper on a regular basis. But now? Now that I have gotten to experience two small children of my own? HILARIOUS! Laugh-aloud-alone-in-your-car-funny.

3) Snow Angels – Even if it is freaking cold outside, you probably won’t completely freeze if you take a minute to flop in the clear smooth snow and make an angel. Then go find somewhere warm to admire your work.

Will you join me for a short month of ideas to keep smiling about? Who couldn’t use another reason to smile?

Suffice it to say I want to do a couple things. I want to spend some really wonderful, life-long-memory moments with my family. I want to complete my 200 hour yoga teacher training program and start teaching somewhere besides my own home. I want to complete and publish one short story. And I dearly wish for the strength to hold on to hope and do the right thing for someone I love, who is terribly stubborn. Let’s call it tenacious and hope that it sees her through.

Pushing forward through uncertainty is most certainly not my forte. Still, uncertainty is better than some certainties. Right? Putting some goals down in writing despite the looming weight feels good.

Welcome to a brand new day. What will you make of it?

One of the personal highlights for me was volunteering in Redding’s classroom. The art project of the day was to trace a hand of each child and write on it one thing that they were thankful for. Though not every 3 year old was quite there on the concept of ‘thankful’ they were all able to name something that makes them happy. It was a real heart warming experience.

Another moment that warmed my heart and made me feel extra thankful for the comfort of my life was reaching out to the county of behalf of our MOMS Club to Adopt-A-Family for the holidays. Their wish lists were so meager, they really made me realize how fortunate we are as a family. Although the economy is not where we’d like it to be in 2010 and there are worldly insecurities, all in all, we are solidly taken care of. For that I am extremely grateful.

I am also personally grateful for the opportunity to complete yoga teacher training. I’m doubly lucky that my husband is Super Dad one weekend a month while my attention is focused on my studies.

Thankful for the health and well-being of my nuclear family. Thankful for our friends and family. Thankful for the opportunity to express all of the above.

Now I’m done. Bring on the holiday cheer!

Today I am thankful for The March of Dimes. It is my most sincere wish that they eradicate the causes of premature birth like they helped rid our world of polio. Their work raising money, raising awareness, and funding research is inspiring and at least partially responsible for Annabella being with us today. They funded the research that developed surfactant, a treatment that helps premature lungs function. Most preemies get one dose. Annabella actually got 2, about a week apart. Unheard of, but apparently exactly what she needed. Thank goodness.

I am thankful for all the doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists, interns, x-ray techs, administrators, and most especially the cleaning staff at Lucille Packard Children’s Hospital at Stanford . I’m thankful for the social workers, the cafeteria staff, and all the wonderful families and patients we met while there. Everyone one of them touched my life and lifted me (or my girl) up a little bit and helped us go on.

I am thankful that although both my children were born too early, they are both here. They are smart, sweet, kind, creative, articulate, healthy, HEALTHY(!?!?!!!), strong individuals. They both beat the odds.

Honestly, I am also extremely thankful that Redding wasn’t as early as Annabella, that he didn’t need surfactant, oxygen, or blood transfusions. That I got to hold him the day he was born and every day after, here come the waterworks. So thankful for everyone at Dominican Hospital. Thank you all for helping me make having a baby 7 weeks early look easy.

Thanks to our family (Syren, McKenzie, Martinez, Crooks, Young, McGarry, Johnson, Jenkins, all of you) and our friends not only for your enormous support for us when we had our preemies, but for your continued support as we raise money for the March of Dimes every year. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.