Bliss in a list

1. Flatulence.  Finally flatulence.  I encourage you all today to fart with gratitude.  Do it for me. 

2. My heart.1

The happiest flower girls who ever existed, at my brother's wedding, Gig Harbor, Washington, September 22, 2017.  PURE BLISS.  

These girls are being so patient with their healing momma.  Last night I made dinner because I wanted to (drops of oil in my spoon; I started it and took lots of breaks.  The spouse gets the credit for wrapping it up and cleaning it up!  Menu:  pan-roasted broccoli, mashed potatoes, chickpeas in my favorite bulgogi sauce [1 can drained rinsed chickpeas, 1 tsp honey, 2.5 T soy sauce, 1 T sesame oil, 1 T lemon juice, 1 T orange juice (I used a small clementine), 1 tsp sugar, garlic (pwdr or fresh whatevs), cook it all down until liquid gone--you're welcome], hamloaf for the meat-eaters [my kids enjoy tofu and black beans for veggie protein but HATE chickpeas], apples, pears) and so I needed a good sit afterwards.  The girls bussed the table, loaded the dishwasher, then got out the chess board and played a rousing game of chess, just the two of them.  Then after they got their jammies on they both climbed into my lap for a huge snuggle, 140 pounds of pre-teen bliss. It was heaven.

My gratitude is two-fold:  first, for these helpful, happy, and independent children.  And secondly, to have survived this long to know these wonderful children!  When I was first diagnosed 7 years ago, these little peanuts were 15 months old and 3 years old and I was faced with the knowledge of a 50% 5-year chance of survival.  All that chemo, and stress, and TODDLERS?  How on earth did we DO that?!?!?  Because of all of your help, for sure, and of course one does what one has to do, but SERIOUSLY.   

3. My heart.2

My brother's perfect wedding. 

I intentionally keep the spouse off the blog for his own privacy.  But that handsome devil whom I married 17 years ago is KILLING it right now, and I can't not talk about it for just a moment.  He's taking such good care of me by being patient with my epic healing processes, and he's running out to get my prescriptions or crackers or whims after the girls are in bed, and he's turned himself into a Girl Scout Dad since it's cookie-selling season (of course it is, right; we'll have cookies starting Feb. 1) and I'm essentially out of commission for that, and he's turned himself into the morning parent (typically my job) complete with ponytails and figuring out divergent ways to school when one kid has Quiz Bowl and the other doesn't, and he's getting the girls to their evening activities, and he's feeding us healthy meals, and he's getting groceries, and he's reading books at bedtime, and he's folding laundry after bedtime, and he's walking the dog, and on light nights he's still taking care of himself by going to the gym, and he's doing it all with remarkable PATIENCE and GRACE and STRENGTH and he doesn't want help with meals.  Historically he doesn't like to read the blog, and that doesn't bother me at all (if it were him with cancer and a blog, I could see how that could be painful for me to read about what he's going through), but maybe I could have you send some of your brilliant positive energy his way for him to suck up from the universe in moments he's likely experiencing weariness.  And if you see him, please look at him in awe and somehow tell him how amazing he is.  I am in awe of him right now.  And full of pride for the beautiful human and daddy that he is.     

We celebrated our 17-year wedding anniversary on Dec. 22, 2017.  It was a chemo day, and the girls didn't have school so they were with me.  The spouse brought me flowers and lunch from my favorite Thai restaurant and we had a family anniversary celebration in chemo room 7.  We never did get a night out, though, because of Lloyd (chemo caused a fever and headache and led to Lloyd's discovery shortly after our anniversary).  The spouse has already made us reservations for a Valentine's date, which is not a holiday that we typically celebrate, but we figure I'll be monumentally better by then and we can have an anniversary mulligan.  I can't wait.  MIL, are you available for some childcare that evening?     

4.  Blood-brain barrier crossers.

In the white dish are the six little marvels of science that I take each day--neratinib.  They go down so easily!  And still the opposite of diarrhea for this all-star patient.  Also shown, for scale, in the orange lid are mini chocolate chips that I reward myself with for the steroids.  The steroid pills are awful to take because they start to dissolve on your tongue and burn on the way down.  

 5.  Neighbor M

I have a very special friend and neighbor, M.  When I'm well we walk our kids to school together, we book club together, and we too infrequently hang out for no reason together.  Since I have been out of commission she has gone above and beyond for my family.  Every morning my spouse can count on M to help get one or the other of the kids to school, depending on the morning activity that day (my big kid has had a lot of extra morning crud lately due to a pending chorus concert tonight), all with the convenience of a text message.  In addition, the clinically crazy foreign language program lady wouldn't stop harassing my phone this weekend, and M took care of turning the forms in for us!  Just last night, the spouse gave a big sigh and said something like, "Thank God for MH."  M:  all of the things are that you are doing for him, for us, in the mornings, and with foreign language, and everything else that I probably don't even know about, are more helpful than you realize, and my family is so, so grateful.  I love you.

I thought I had some more, but I'm really tired so that's all for now.  I won't hesitate to start a new bliss list if/when I think of the rest.