(I know. She’s adorable.)

So, guys: MY MOM BEAT CANCER AND HER HAIR IS COMING BACK!

(She enclosed that picture in case I wanted to lead with it.)

(I KNOW. SHE’S ADORABLE.)

She is adorable and my dad is great, and we saw a lot of them recently– they came down several weekends in a row. Let me break here to be real with you: stuff sucked a lot for a couple months, then everything got better at once. And when things got better, I didn’t want to write about it. I just wanted to enjoy it. I felt like the situation with Addie’s seizures was really– lousy– and while it helped a little to share, it also made it more real; like this is really happening. You’re forced to face it head-on. And it hurts to open up about raw topics. Sometimes you’re just done, you know? You just want some space and silence.

Where we are now with all that:

Addie went up on her Lamictal about three weeks ago. First she had more seizures (a lot), then gradually less. Right now we’re down to one or none a night. I’m almost afraid to talk about it because I don’t want to jinx it. Everything has been one step forward, two steps back, so with this first sign of two steps forward and NO steps back– I just want to revel in it, and not let the universe realize we’re getting ahead. Heh.

She still has an appointment coming up in about a month. We’ll see about medications then. About the surgery. At this point, I’d like a permanent fix if one’s available. It’d be so great for her to be able to get into the ocean this summer. That’s what I keep focusing on: being able to go to the beach without fear of her seizing and drowning.

Besides that, yeah.

Everything is wonderful.

Jason’s job seems to be going well. He’s exercising. I’m exercising. We started taking supplements together. Every morning in our house is just drug central, seriously. Addie’s prescriptions get doled out first (two pills, two syringes, twice a day), and then Eli gets some magnesium and vitamins. J and I have a plethora of ish we’re taking: caffeine, green tea, fish oil, l-carnitine, CLAs, cordygen. (PS: let me interject here– I resisted trying fish oil for almost two years. I felt like– you know, I’m a vegetarian. It’s just wrong. So FINALLY gave in this week… And everything they say is true: it’s amazing. My skin is already worlds improved.)

So I’ve been doing that. Working out. Pill-popping. Heh. We’ve been celebrating birthdays– both males had theirs in the last month. They both celebrated the same way, too: video games and Cheesecake Factory. When the weather’s sunny, we’re all outside. When we’re stuck indoors, we get creative with entertainment. One day we sewed animals out of lost socks. Another day we built a shadow puppet theater and put on plays. We read books. We color. We play weird games. Addie made up one that’s just rolling checker pieces across the table, rapid-fire. It’s not even a game. It’s just plastic warfare. We did that for like THIRTY MINUTES, laughing and screaming.

Everything is great. We have our health right now, and we have each other. That’s all the important stuff.

And we’ve been SLEEPING. Oh God. SLEEP. I didn’t even know how much I missed it until I got a full eight hours, and it was like coming out of a depressive fog. The world had new colors. Things make sense again. That first night Addie got through without a seizure, her eyes were so clear. She didn’t slur her speech. She wasn’t irritated. She had no trouble focusing. Her schoolwork improved. Her attitude improved. Everything’s gotten better by leaps and bounds.

It was SO encouraging to see that, because for months we’ve been living with this cranky, distracted, foreign version of Addie. You tell yourself it’s the medicine, you tell yourself it’s the seizures. You tell yourself it’s not her. You believe it, because you need to believe it. So when she actually started to come out of it– when the Lamictal afforded her rest, curtailed her seizures, offered her some clarity and peace– it was like YES, yes, AWESOME. I was right. It really wasn’t her. It WASN’T my kid all this time. She’s still the little girl I remember under there. Still sweet and silly. Still smart, still funny, still creative. We have our Old Addie back after all these months, and I couldn’t be happier.

I don’t know. Yeah, I’m just HAPPY. I don’t know if it’s the sunshine, the ninety-four pills, or the fact that it’s Friday and my family will be home soon, but I am HAPPY.

I wake up happy. I go to sleep happy. My heart, my home, my days: they’re all full. They’re brimming. I wish I had more time to write, but I decided for now– it isn’t that important. It can keep. I can spend time enjoying this season in my life, or I can spend time narrating it.

Guess which is infinitely better.

Jason shows up post-workout and says he just wants to chill here, so I’m like, okay, I’ll take the kids alone. The three of us never go out together.

Drive drive drive. Hungry hungry hungry.

We park, and Addie and Elias are discussing food options. Elias: “I think I’m going to have a turkey dog.” Addie: “I’m going to ask for BACON!– also with grilled cheese around it.”

They seat us immediately. We are the only family in the restaurant. They are the only kids. This place looks like an renovated warehouse and attracts primarily white collar groups, during and after work hours.

Addie sits down, all smiles, and within eight seconds announces: “OH NO. I’M SICK.”

PANIC. Me: “What do you mean, you’re sick? Are you going to– are you going to BE sick? At the table?”

Her eyes well up. “It hurts so bad! It feels like dying!”

I don’t know what to do, I just know PLEASE DON’T THROW UP. I ask Eli if he can just hang out at the table by himself. He whispers NO, with saucer-sized eyes. Addie mimes a heave and I tell him, sorry, so sorry, I don’t think there’s a choice, I have to get her to the bathroom.

Leave my purse so he has a phone and people know I didn’t abandon him. Escort Ads to bathroom. She actually uses it (the traditional way), says she doesn’t need to throw up but the pain is worse. SHE HAS TO GO HOME NOW. NOWWWWWWW.

I mentally run through options, and decide to call Jason. Please come get her, I say, she’s miserable. He says, Okay, be there in ten minutes.

All ten minutes Addie is tearing up and rocking back and forth slightly, hands on stomach, murmuring, I can’t I can’t I can’t this is too much it’s pain it’s pain

and I’m like, “I am SO sorry– have a water, have ginger ale, do you want a cracker, do you want to sit on my lap?” and she’s crying, “All I want is to lay down and STOP THE PAIN.”

Jason arrives. He calls, I bring Addie out. When she gets to the car, she says OH, she’s feeling better, the fresh air helped. I suggest a milkshake (it helps my stomach) and she perks up at that, too. Jason, to his credit, is not like SERIOUSLY? He just gets her the milkshake and takes her home– where she apparently recovered within minutes.

Of course.

(Later, she lamented that she was sorry, it just really felt like she had to farf. Yes. FARF. And yes, it’s a combo of the two words you’re imagining.)

Meanwhile, Elias is at the table, very quietly and politely coloring. I get back. We order and talk. We talk about his video games, a lot. About family stuff. We talk about his birthday, what it’s like to be Almost Double Digits. He begins to blossom during the conversation and open up. I tell him I was at the school today, volunteering, and his teacher shared this tidbit:

All the kids in class were allowed to pick who they wanted to sit by this last quarter. They had to pick one of their own gender, and two of the opposite, and write it on a ballot. His teacher said she was going through the ballots afterward, and– in her excited words– “I swear, his name was on every single one!”

Elias gasped when he heard that, then went the most bashful and pleased shade of red ever. He smiled at the table. “Why do you think that is?” he wondered.

“Because,” I tell him. “You’re wonderful. You’re smart, kind, funny, interesting, and you’re a good person.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. Definitely.” I nudge his shoulder. “I’d pick you.”

Eli smiles again. “And,” I add, “this just proves you’re perfect exactly as you are.”

He’s been worried about that lately. That he’s not tough enough, athletic enough, loud enough, adventurous enough, outgoing enough. It doesn’t come from the other kids; it’s primarily well-meaning adults in his life. I know I’ve been guilty of it, too. Why don’t you try karate? Why don’t you speak up more? Why don’t you ask that kid to hang out later?

It comes from a good place, but I had to check myself and be like: He. Is. Wonderful. He is exactly who he’s supposed to be. He is an introvert, and he likes playing on his computer, and he’s shy and quiet and gets nervous, but he’s also steady and generous and brilliant, and deeply moral. He may not walk up to other kids and introduce himself, but he’s the only one that stood up for a friend who was being bullied on the playground. Why would I change that? What more could I ever want?

I ask who he picked to sit by him. He tells me one of his best guy friends, and a girl I’ve never heard of. “Why her?” I wonder, interested.

“She’s a very soft girl,” he answers. Then– in this perfect Elias way– he frowns and gestures, trying to pluck the right words out of the air. He does this: like a foreigner who doesn’t speak the language, this mime of How do you say…? “Not soft,” he continues. “… Mmm. Gentle! And kind. She has a soft heart, I mean. She tries really hard, even when she doesn’t understand things right away. I think that’s a good trait.” He sips his ginger ale. “She’s a good friend, so I picked her.”

I have my elbow on the table, not proper at all– chin in hand, gazing at him as he finishes his dessert. Such a handsome little guy. Dead ringer for young Leo DiCaprio with his hair pushed off his forehead like that. A bittersweet realization hits me that there are a limited number of years when he’ll pick me– as his best friend, his confidante. His date. Too soon, there will be another girl across the table from him, staring adoringly, listening to him try to articulate his mind.

The waiter comes by. He’s sweet. Asks about Addie. He tells me about a woman he met that had four sick kids, all at once, oh those poor sick kids, that poor mom with sick kids. Bless her heart, he says in a Southern drawl. I mentally bump his tip up another five percent both for the phrase, and being a twenty-year-old guy that cares about the trials of mothering sick children.

He turns to Elias. “Would you like any more ginger ale?”

“No, thank you,” Elias replies, “but thank you very much for offering.”

The waiter is dumbstruck. He takes a long pause, and then announces, “I think you’re the most polite person in this entire restaurant.”

“He’s a good one,” I agree.

We finish up and pay, and Elias writes a note on the bill in his meticulous cursive: thank wou! “I can’t remember how the Y goes,” E admits. I laugh, and fix it for him. thank you!

“Do you think–” Eli begins, then cuts himself off: “No, it’s too much.”

I’m still laughing. “What’s too much?”

“Do you think…” He pauses– sheepish– then finishes, “… that we could take the long way home? To listen to music in the car?”

“It’s not too much,” I assure him. “It’s perfect.”

We meander our way back here through dark roads, and little love songs come on about holding hands, and I think again about how old he’s getting, and how lucky I am to be his mom. I think about how he changed my view on everything. Everything. He gave me a purpose, he gave me a clarity. I think how he taught me to forgive, to reach out. He taught me there is nothing you can’t love your family through. Every false, sanctimonious message I’d been indoctrinated with disappeared when he arrived.

I remember the minute after he came into the world. Touching his cheeks, his lashes. I felt that deep, timeless love of a new parent; so thick it threatens to choke you. He was here, and he was perfect. It was as if the first twenty years of my life didn’t exist, that nothing existed or was real or made sense until he was handed to me– five and a half warm pounds, swaddled, as quiet then as now. I knew we belonged to each other. That what was precious to him would be precious to me. That his loves would be my loves. His ideas, his successes, his victories, his failures, his fears, his sorrows– I would know them all. I would file them in my memories. I would inscribe them on my heart.

I stroked his bald head as he slumbered. I counted his fingers. I pressed my lips to each tiny palm. I listened to his breathing. I gazed at his face ten years ago, his button nose, his cupid bow smile, and thought: I can’t wait to know you, Elias.

So.

A few days ago, I posted a small update on Twitter and Facebook, giving the short version of a three hour visit at Duke: if Addie’s new medication doesn’t work, they want to consider neurosurgery. I took the news in stride. It felt like a means to an end, at least. Like, here is an OPTION. I was somewhat optimistic during the appointment, driving back, telling Jason. She doesn’t have to have seizures forever. That’s awesome. The whole surgery part: not as awesome. I kind of glossed over that when sharing the news, or when working through it alone. It was something I didn’t want to dwell on.

And then that night– Friday– it really hit me. At once. I just felt– DEFEATED. I got on the blog to write something hopeful and uplifting and nothing like that was coming out. What was coming out was: holy eff, they might have to CUT INTO MY KID’S SKULL AND MESS WITH HER BRAIN, and what if something goes wrong and she’s paralyzed and it is ENTIRELY MY FAULT? And what if I pass? What if this is something easily operable, but I’m too nervous to go through with the surgery– I talk myself out of it– and she seizes for years? Can’t sleep, can’t take a bath alone, can’t get too tired or too excited, can’t go on the monkey bars, can’t swim in the ocean, can’t join gymnastics like she wants? (NO BALANCE BEAMS, the doctors warned.)

What if there’s years of her being the spazzy kid who can’t help it? So far kids have been kind to her, but we know kids– eventually she’ll get singled out and teased. What if that’s avoidable?

I don’t know. It just got to me. The not sleeping got to me. The months of this got to me. I deal with her condition every day of my life in some form– most of it never makes it onto the blog, because it’s boring and annoying. It’s paperwork. It’s meetings with teachers, nurses, counselors. It’s dealing with insurance companies. It’s setting up appointments, it’s refilling prescriptions, it’s gathering paper trails of stuff. It’s an uphill battle to get anything done; to get anything faxed, to ever be listened to. It’s mentally exhausting. It’s emotionally exhausting.

I just keep trucking and coping, and I was– finally completely overwhelmed.

I sat down, alone in my office, and just cried.

I reached out and said I AM LOSING MY GRIP HERE and I feel like a failure, because that’s EXACTLY how I felt. I put it out there because I needed that community support. I needed other moms, friends, family to tell me I’d make it through. I needed that collective WE HAVE YOUR BACK. It meant the world to me; each and every response.

I put it out there, too, because one of my pet peeves is how the Internet brings out this glossy, magazine version of people’s lives. I’m sure there are people who live in eternally clean homes and make organic four-course meals and never worry about money and never have stupid fights with their spouse or let their kids watch TV for an entire day because MOMMY CAN’T DEAL RIGHT NOW– but let’s be real. That’s not the norm. It’s not sustainable. We’re human beings. We’re messy. We’re imperfect. I’ll do all I can on my end to be a good parent, a good wife, a good friend, but I’m real, and sometimes I just cry at my desk and feel like it’s too much.

I wallow. I self-pity. Then I feel guilty because someone has it worse– and then I think, no, brain surgery on a seven-year-old is bad. I, like, justify it to myself: it’s okay to be sad, right?

And then I justify going upstairs with a grocery bag of Cadbury eggs and a bottle of Diet Pepsi and downing EVERYTHING while watching X-Files, mascara all down my cheeks, wearing one of Jason’s old reject tee shirts. Let’s be real about this, too. I do not do Instagram-able sadness. I am an ugly crier with a mouthful of chocolate.

I said something about this to Erin. At her house. Yesterday afternoon. We’re standing at her kitchen sink– the kids are in the backyard, eating dinner on the patio, laughing and screaming. Sun is setting over the trees.

I said, Sometimes you just need to cry, right? You keep going and going and then you realize you’re about to totally collapse. You just need a release.

Erin answered, I cried in church earlier. It was so matter-of-fact, so earnest. There was a Biblical discussion about husbands and wives, she said, and it hit her. Hard. She and Garrett filed the divorce papers a little while ago, and she’s been doing the same thing with her burdens: bury them, get past them, deal with them later. You can’t stop to think about how hard it is, she sighed.

Erin told me once that when she’s upset, she wants to be hugged, and it makes things better. So I put my arms around her thin shoulders, squeeze her. She touches my arm. It’s just us for a moment in her kitchen, two women with two different weights on our shoulders. I feel closer to her than I ever have before.

Before I get too Debbie Downer, though: everything since Friday has been great. I got all my emotions out, purged them, talked stuff over with J, and then tried to just enjoy time with our family. We went on a walk around Lake Crabtree–

– during which Elias was terrified of snakes and bees, Addie complained about the sunshine, and Jason stopped intermittently to do push-ups.

It was a mild success.

J, by the way– as a total aside– has transformed himself from a couch gamer who lived off Bojangles and Domino’s to a four-times-a-week gym goer with a clean diet. I haven’t mentioned it much because it seems to embarrass him, but– GIRL. He looks SICK. He’s lost around thirty pounds and has abs and broader shoulders and OMG, like– I seriously loved the way he looked before, had no desire for him to change, but– wow. I can’t lie. I can’t get enough of this kid lately. I think it’s a confidence thing, too. He bought a new wardrobe when the old stuff didn’t fit, he got rid of the beard and opted for that perfect manicured stubble. He jumps on any excuse to get a tan, so his skin is glowing. He just looks SO. GOOD. ALL THE TIME.

I don’t know. We have so much fun together. It’s just been another great, bonding thing for us to share– being active. Going on hikes. Doing exercises. In the midst of everything, I have him to lean on, and that’s the best. He came home today, smelling and looking RIDICULOUSLY AWESOME per usual– (it’s my site, I can swoon)– and told me he had a surprise. A box of dress up clothes! “Linda’s girls outgrew them,” he announced. “She thought they might fit Addie.”

Inside the box is a gorgeous floor-length princess dress, two pirate costumes, and two Incredibles costumes. Jason says he’s going to wear the larger Incredibles costume. Which is still only a child’s medium. I’m like NO WAY and he says HE’S TOTALLY GOING TO and strips down, managing to get it to his knees before it won’t go up any more: “MY THIGHS ARE TOO MUCH!” I’m watching from bed, recovering from an earlier headache. Giggling. “Okay, OKAY“– I swing my legs off the edge of the mattress– “I’m in, let me try.”

Five minutes and a lot of awkward tugging later, we get the one-piece zipped up. I am in a child’s Mr. Incredible costume. It is BURSTING at the seams. Jason is doubled over laughing. “HOW INCREDIBLE DO I LOOK?” I wonder, posing, and he can’t even breathe. And I’m just– like, so happy in that second. It takes me by surprise, how such a stupid little gag can evoke that. Pure, unadulterated joy.

Pretty tired, so heading to bed. This week is going to be really nice. Weather-wise, day-wise. Sunny and eighties, and a mostly-empty schedule. Just two appointments. My parents are coming this weekend– I’m really excited to see them. My poor dad never made it down at the end of March. He had such a terrible spell of luck it would’ve been comical if it wasn’t so– well, TERRIBLE:

On the drive down, his motorcycle saddle bag opened and he lost everything. His checkbook, his keys, his medical apnea device (so he can breathe at night and not die, basically). Everything serious. Everything necessary. Absolute disaster of the first order. He had a stretch of about forty miles where it must have happened, which barely narrowed it down.

While driving around on his motorcycle looking for the lost bag, he slows down and glances to the side. Hits a sharp turn and gravel spot. Now his bike is in the shop.

THEN, he takes his car to look up and down 95 for the bag, and his cell phone falls out. So he has no phone.

This all happened in like ten hours. One after another. Lost everything, motorcycle accident, phone gone.

If he hadn’t made the trip successfully before, I’d worry there was a jinx going on and tell him to just STAY IN VIRGINIA. As it is, I hope they’re safe, and that this weekend’s visit only goes south in terms of navigation.

We wound through quiet suburban roads and through rural stretches, swaying around turns, slowing in patches of moonlight. They laid on their backs. They watched the dark skies. They fell asleep side by side.

After twenty minutes I pulled into the driveway. They woke, slowly, smiling. I had the most perfect dream, Addie sighed. Me too, Elias agreed. Elias couldn’t remember his, but in Addie’s, we were all in Heaven and Elias was doing science experiments and she was painting, and I was being silly and loving everyone. I don’t know what Jason was doing, Addie said, and we all laughed. But he was there too. We were all together forever.

In the room, ten minutes later, I was making the bed and she froze on the ladder. At first I thought she was hanging by an arm. Joking. Then I realized her other arm was clenched up and her breathing had turned into a low hum.

I reached down and held her so she didn’t slip. You’re good, I whispered. Safe, safe. Almost over. Within seconds, her muscles began to relax. Elias had rushed over by the ladder, and opened his arms to her when she could lift her head: You’re the bravest girl in the world, he announced.

She nodded. When she could let go of the ladder, she walked right into his hug and squeezed him back. Her head rested on his shoulder.

Earlier, on a run, Elias had worried she didn’t like him. Or that maybe she didn’t GET how much he wanted to be her friend. Do you think she WILL like me, someday? he wondered. I always try to be nice to her, and sometimes I don’t think she knows that I’m reaching out.

You’re just very sensitive to other people, I answered. Addie will get there someday. You’re ahead of the curve.

We were jogging down a neighborhood greenway together. It was his idea– he’s become concerned with health and fitness lately, probably as a trickle-down from J and I. He’s also concerned about being the smallest in his class. I’m pretty sure he’ll grow (Jason was about five three until his last year of high school, when he shot up to six feet), so– I’m not worried about it yet. But I get why he is.

He picked running because he’s a great runner. He’s too shy to go out for the boys fourth grade track team, although I kind of wish he would. I think seeing himself as an athlete would boost his confidence. As it is, he’s happy to lap the other kids around here and pound the pavement with me.

He talks a lot when he’s jogging. He’s normally a subdued little guy, but when we were out there, he had all kinds of stuff to say to me. Some stuff about Addie. Some stuff about things online (On Youtube, I saw this video– you won’t believe it–), about religion (Is it okay if I believe in God but don’t want to go to church?), about girls (I’m interested in them but I like to keep that stuff private). About blogs. I have an idea for a blog! Elias enthused, getting uncharacteristically loud. What if I could track all my runs so I could know where I’ve been? On a map? And other people could see how far I’ve gone and whether I got faster?

That’s really cool, I agreed. I think Nike has something like that. We can look into it for your birthday.

Me too. I paused. We bounded a couple feet. Maybe we could get you a nice camera, too, so we can take pictures of places you go. I know you really like going places, like in the car and on foot.

He smiled. Yeah.

And you could take it with you when you go zip-lining, to take pictures of the forest and waterfalls.

Elias nodded, but he got quiet. We slowed to a walk to catch our breath. Turned a corner. I don’t know if I want to go zip-lining, he finally said. I mean, I don’t NOT want to do it, but I don’t know if I want to, either. Is that okay?

I said, Yeah, it’s your birthday! It’s whatever you want.

I know you guys want me to be adventurous and I want to be adventurous too, but I don’t always like, like, to DO things. He paused, the wheels in his head turning behind his eyes. I like to see things and be new places. Stuff like that.

Like you would want to go to the top of a mountain?

Yes! Like I would want to go to the top, like I did with Dad when I was little.

But you wouldn’t want to ski down it?

He winced. No.

I laughed. Hey, that’s okay. Everyone likes different things, there’s nothing wrong with that. You just like new views, right?

Elias nodded. Yeah, I just really like new views and discovering new things. I’m more, like… an explorer, I guess.

I reached out and hugged his fluffy, always-mussed head to my chest and kissed the top. He laughed too, then tried to break away when some other boys turned onto the street. Heh.

Jason and I spent an hour in bed together tonight watching ‘X Files’ on Netflix. I have never seen the show. I know. It seems like a given for a paranormal sci fi nerd like myself, but I wasn’t allowed to watch it for most of the time it was on the air, and never thought to go back and check it out. Until now.

It. Is. Awesome. J has the perfect crook of an arm to curl into, too. There are few things in the world I love more than being tucked into his side on a Friday night, watching television and drinking Diet Pepsi straight from the bottle.

A couple nights ago– two nights ago, Wednesday– Michelle and Rachel and I went out for drinks. It was supposed to be drinks. It turned into salads, drinks, and dessert, because I am a bottomless pit lately. The meal was delicious, and the company was the best. Erin couldn’t make it (we missed you, boo!), but it was still lots of laughs and gossip.

At the end of the meal, while I was paying my check, Shell slipped out to the bathroom. Came back. A little tipsy. GUYS, she whispered theatrically. LOOK AT THE OTHER TABLE. THOSE ARE THE PEOPLE FROM TRIVIA NIGHT.

Trivia Night was another girl’s outing weeks back. It was at a bar. One big screen asked questions, each table got individual handheld devices to key in answers. Almost no one was playing. It was just us, and one other table that was CRUSHING us.

We tried to figure out who was dominating the game, and finally realized it was a young couple, like, two tables away. The girl was totally cute, the guy had a big smile and a flat version of a Harry Styles cut. We said something as we were leaving– GOOD JOB ON KILLING US, ha ha– and then waved and made for the parking lot.

And here they were again. Two tables away. At the local Italian place.

I’m gonna say something, I told Michelle.

Do it, she said, in that voice that was like No You Won’t.

I will.

Okay, go ahead.

Rachel was like, Um, okay, kind of undecided. Heh. I think she didn’t want a Scene.

The girl went to the bathroom, and the guy was sitting there by himself. So I said, Weren’t you the guys who SLAUGHTERED us at trivia? and he gasped: I THOUGHT I knew your group!

We all totally hit it off. It went from how are you, how’s your night, what are you eating, is it good, how do you guys know each other, I’m Becca, I’m Shell, I’m Rachel, I’m Will, and this is my girlfriend Jessica, Jessica remember these guys from trivia, OH MY GOSH, YES! Do you guys just hang out in this shopping center at night? I asked, which I meant as a joke and luckily they took it that way. Pretty much, he said. I live right nearby.

Well, we’ll probably see you again, Michelle says. Like at trivia.

Sure! he agrees.

Okay! I enthuse.

Jessica and Will are smiling. Like– um, did you want to– he begins. Do you have a… particular time?

Oh, a time– to meet? I draw a blank. No one ever actually takes me up on offers to hang out. I’m both excited at how awesome and random this is, and totally ill-equipped. Did you want to… is this time…?

– our Wednesdays are usually free? Michelle pipes in.

Like, Wednesday, this time? Will asks. Like nine?

Yeah. Yeah, seems legit. Wednesday at nine. Next Wednesday. We will see you– at trivia.

Okay! Will and Jessica say, and then we wave and say goodnight, and in the car we’re all gushing, OMG WE JUST MADE FRIENDS! It’s like the platonic version of being asked out: they really LIKED US! We have PLANS together! I have to pick out something nice and practice funny things to say to impress our POTENTIAL NEW FRIENDS!

Also like dating, I feel like friendship is one of those things where you either have no prospects or EVERYONE is interested in hanging out with you.

So, YES. Next Wednesday, we have a tentative appointment to get our butts handed to us in trivia. Very excited.

Dad is coming in the morning on his motorcycle, and I am going to BEG him to drive me everywhere while he’s in town. I love that bike. The weather’s supposed to be nice, so all the better. Plus, you know. My DAD. Who I love. I’m not making it all about the motorcycle or anything– I’m pretty enthused to see him, too. Heh.

Morning will be our second killer gym class. Michelle, Erin and I are going. I’m kind of nervous, because I haven’t done much exercise this week. I’ve done a lot of STUFF (like mowing the lawn and gardening one day, doing four hours of intense cleaning today), so I’ve been active. No real weights or treadmill though. And I’ve been eating, like I said, SO MUCH. Trash compactor right here. Eating frequently, eating terribly. I’m going to get everything back on point starting tomorrow, I just hope there isn’t too much damage already done. April is usually when I start my training for summer bikini season.

Also, speaking of April– and bringing this full circle– on Monday I have an appointment with a pediatric neurologist at Duke. He came personally recommended by my pastor, Jonathan, and had a waiting list about five months long. So, finally– our number got called. We’re getting a meeting. I can’t get my current neurologist to send the records to him, so hopefully what I have will suffice– I saved all Addie’s medical ish in a folder, from release forms to medication forms to her MRIs, which is on disc. It’s the best I can do with zero help from the other office. Ugh.

I just want some answers for her. Several people told me this guy is phenomenal, and if anyone would be familiar with her condition, it’d be him. So I’m allowing myself to be hopeful– not blindly optimistic, but hopeful.

Oh, and in case I don’t get to say it on Sunday: Happy Easter to every one of you. Hope the day is sweet and peaceful– filled with loved ones, beauty, meaning, restoration, and, of course, chocolate in some form.

I sleep so badly, guys. I think it’s because of my caffeine intake. I was off Diet Pepsi for about four months, took one sip, back hitting it again hard as ever. I have a little shot glass by my bed and a two liter I use to refill it; all carefully pouring, enjoying the hiss and the clink of ice.

I know. That’s terrible, too. And I’m up about four times a night later. Just– snap. Conscious. And every time– because I’m a total mom– I get out of bed, check all the doors and windows, check in on the kids, feel their foreheads, cover them in blankets. It’s nonsense.

So. Here is what I have been up to. First: EXERCISE! I know, that doesn’t sound really exciting, but it was to me. My friend Rachel got Shell and I a free class with this sports gym in Raleigh, and it was incredible. Like, there was a machine there that LITERALLY doesn’t exist anywhere else in the state. They have a patent. I geek out over stuff like that. The instructor was showing us each exercise (just put your foot here, hang upside down, crunch your abs, tuck in your arms) and I could not WAIT to try that ish. The harder it looked, the more into it I was. Everything was difficult, everything was draining, everything felt so well earned by the time we were done. The whole place doesn’t look like a typical gym facility at all, either– it looks more like an NFL training center. There’s an indoor field with turf, and we did laps around it at the end. RUN! he shouted. Then: WALK! Then: RUN!

PICK IT UP LADIES! Shell yelled at our group. Her hair was in a ponytail, elaticized headband keeping everything in place. LEAVE IT ALL ON THE FIELD!

Afterward, she pointed to a sign over the exit door that read: You just got better. I offered her a fist bump. She accepted.

We both wanted to sign up for classes immediately, and I’m telling you this from me to you, with no reimbursement, no paid endorsement, no agenda: if there is a D1 Sports place near you, check it out. The Raleigh one is sick. As it turned out, Rachel cut a deal with the instructor today– he’s going to train us twice a week, free, if Rachel journals our progress on her blog. Which is, like, the best news ever. I’m going to journal my progess here, too, because I think it’ll keep me honest– and if it inspires someone else, so much the better. It’s always a thrill to hear about you guys being healthy and badass.

Other things that are happening:

I ate between twenty and thirty Cadbury creme eggs this week. Not so proud of that decision, but I’m going to own it anyway.

Watched ‘Killing Them Softly’ with J tonight. I don’t know. I didn’t love it. I expected to. I will say that Brad Pitt is my favorite, forever and ever, and he could do a dramatic reading of the McDonald’s dollar menu and I would pay money for it.

In the car earlier, Shell and I were talking movies, and she was like, “Have you seen [XYZ]? It’s based on a bestselling novel,” and I answered, “They all are.” I started laughing. “Like, when’s the last time you heard a commercial: …based on the moderately successful novel!”

She laughed too, hard. I continued, “The New York Times says: Meh! It opened to polite applause this weekend!”

Michelle and I are teary-eyed laughing now, because we always go from zero to Funniest Thing Ever Uttered By A Human in ten seconds flat. She does a slow clap, and intones, “Well.. That was certainly a MOVIE,” which makes me laugh harder.

I ask her if there’s any movie she actually wanted to applaud afterward; like a movie that was SO GOOD you just needed to give an ovation to. She says maybe Star Trek. We talk about how much we want to see the new one for five minutes. Then she asks me, and I go blank. I finally go with ‘Hurt Locker‘, but only because we already talked about ‘Asssination of Jesse James‘ earlier and that is my go-to for feels. The last ten minutes always get me. Right here. I just pointed to my heart. Or at least my upper chest; I’m kind of terrible with anatomy.

WHAT ELSE. Elias is turning ten in a few weeks. He decided to forego the party, and do ziplining with the family instead. Which is awesome. We found a place he liked in Asheboro, so my parents are driving down and meeting us there his birthday weekend. It’s like a two hour tour through the forest with fourteen ziplines, so– yes. Fantastic. Think it was a great choice on his part. Then a big dinner in town– wherever he wants, his choice– and some presents, and he will suddenly be ten, and I will have had the joy of knowing him for an entire decade.

Crazy. Wonderful, but crazy.

Like all the best things, I guess.

Addie has been wonderful and crazy lately, too. Heh. She goes in and out of moodiness, which might be her medicine and might also be a seven year old girl thing (I compare notes with other seven year old girl moms frequently, and yep, it tracks). But this last week? JUST DARLING. Angelic. Laughing, snuggling, super creative. Friendly to other kids. Forgiving. Willing to let me in her room. Heh. Girls are such mysterious little creatures– she always needs privacy, seems like.

They’re both really into science at the moment. She’s into things that explode, Eli’s into electricity and circuits. There are summer camps for both, so I’m planning on signing them up. Have to support that interest. Science is the best.

What I’M doing– besides going to bed in a second– is finishing the third season of ‘A Savage Wilde’ and beginning the fourth, and selling the series on Amazon. I made a command decision a couple days ago. The story is wonderful, I’m really proud of it, people responded to it, why have I been backburnering and sitting on it all this time? It’s a chance for little extra money, and to put myself out there– like, really, be a real paid published AUTHOR. Kind of daunting and tremendous at once.

I spent several days cleaning up the first two seasons and making them into ebooks, so those are ready to go. I’m going to launch a new website with download links soon. So. Yes. That’s the plan. Website is already underway, too.

As for this blog, I had a brainstorm in the shower (where all great ideas are born), and can hopefully get that concept– like, plotted and formed and designed and coded– in short order. It’s both a visual concept and a different way of content management. My favorite thing in the world, pretty much, is having a lightbulb moment of I’VE NEVER SEEN THIS ON A BLOG BEFORE, I FEEL SO BRILLIANT, NOW LET’S FIND OUT HOW IMPOSSIBLE IT IS TO CODE! Heh. The answer, always: STUPIDLY. Stupidly impossible. And I always tackle it anyway. What can I say. I’m a sucker for impossibility and headaches.

“She always kicks me. She always kicks her feet.”

“I do not!”

“You always get annoyed and kick me–”

“I DO NOT–”

“Do you two want to have a sleepover or not?” I ask. Elias: “Not.” Addie: “Yes.”

Eli has a bunk bed. They’re watching a Redbox cartoon, and she insisted on splitting the top bunk with him instead of having the lower to herself. She’s stretching her legs out already. “Keep your legs over there,” I warn her. She grumbles.

I go to set the movie up, sighing, “You two. I swear.”

Elias: “What?”

“We were having, like, the best day ever, and I really wanted to end it on a good note.”

“That’s what I want too!” Elias chimes in. “I’m having a good day! I want it to end well too!”

“I WANT IT TO END HORRIBLE!” Addie grouses, and suddenly she has no shirt and her arms are crossed. I can’t help it. I just start laughing. This is my kids in a nutshell. Elias is always agreeable for its own sake, and Addie is always disagreeable for the same reason. Her face is perpetual human Grumpy Cat.

It WAS a good day, though. A great day. The best. Jason is waiting for me upstairs but I said I needed a few minutes to just write something down to commemorate how great it was.

It was one of those perfect happy times that completely sneaks up on you. It was just supposed to be a normal Tuesday. I had nothing big on the schedule. No appointments. No errands. Wake up. All my favorite clothes are clean and I lost weight. Makes no sense, since I’ve been enjoying a steady diet of Cadbury creme eggs and banana bread, but HEY, I’ll take it!

Think about going to the gym in the morning. Girls text: Are we going to gym? I look at my list of computer work that I Really Should Do. Text back: I really should do this computer work.

Sit down at computer. Pull up email. Email says Redbox alert! ALL THE MOVIES YOU WANTED OUT TODAY! ‘Anna Karenina’! ‘Zero Dark Thirty’! ‘Argo’! ‘Angelina Ballerina Mousling Mysteries’! (That last one was for the kids.) (I swear.)

Well, let me just rent them ALL, then! Click! Done.

Open my web design stuff up. Look at my budget.

I really SHOULD do this.

Or… OR.

Maybe I should just text my sister and see if she wants me to bring over ‘Anna Karenina’ instead.

Michelle: YES.

Shower up really fast, take Lola for a walk since she’s totally sweet and doesn’t get enough attention. Love you, you little furball. Stop by the Redbox and pick up all four movies. Get to Michelle’s.

Millie greets me in the stairwell. “Aunt BAAAHHHHACCCCCCA!” Tiny soft body launches at me. She squeals. I squeal.

Michelle and I talked about going to Aldi’s a couple days ago, so we decide to do that first, because we are taking our finances serious as a heart attack these days. I used to be so on top of my money. I still am, like I still budget and track everything, but I’m getting lax and that makes me sad. I came to a realization lately that I like saving money more than I ever like spending it. Couponing and good deals bring me a ridiculous level of joy.

Her: “Where is it?”

“It’s right there. No, on the left. LEFT there.”

“This is familiar. Like I’m going to–” she pauses. “Wait, this is right next to–”

We look at each other, and gasp in unison: ZAXBY’S!

Michelle’s all, “Oh, that’s happening.”

I’m like, “Get your groceries, then we get the Zax, then we get the movie.” BOOM. Scheduling; I has it.

Aldi’s! Lots of people are like, what, ALDI’S?, like super elitist about it. I don’t even care. Because boxed mac and cheese is boxed mac and cheese. It just costs a quater here. Michelle Mackelmores all down the aisles: “But sh-t, it was ninety-nine cents!”

Forget we have to bag all our own groceries. That’s comical. I feed Millie tiny pieces of Cadbury creme egg.

ZAXBY’S! Michelle says Dad gave her some money when she came up to visit Virginia last week, for “gas”. Dad is legit the most generous man alive. I’m going to tell you something, my father paid for our entire trip to Puerto Rico. I meant to say something earlier. We had money put aside and used a lot of it for medical stuff with Addie, like the MRI, and didn’t feel comfortable taking the trip with any emergency funds. So we were going to put it off, and he was like, NOPE. YOU’RE GOING. YOU NEED THIS. I HAVE THE BILL. And when everything was more expensive than we expected, he sent us a note, really serious: Do you need more money? Tell me and I will give you more money.

On one hand, like, I hope my dad knows we’re actually really responsible with our funds and can handle whatever gets thrown at us. He instilled independence and money sense in us really early, so– I feel super prepared. I hope he knows I never NEED it. On the other hand– who doesn’t like being spoiled by their Daddy? Heh. It took me a while to admit it out loud, but it’s one of the few things left that makes me still feel like a kid. It’s sweet. I do love that he’s like, “Here’s some cash, go buy a toy, let’s get ice cream,” because it’s the gesture. It’s not the money. It’s the meaning behind it: you’ll always be my little girl, and I want you to be happy.

So Dad essentially bought us lunch. Shell used some of the leftover money, and I sent him a message to let him know he’s the best.

On the way back, or maybe on the way there, Michelle and I talk Stuebenville. If you don’t know me in person– or maybe if I don’t demonstrate it on the blog– I am REALLY cold when it comes to justice. I have a very sensitive heart towards a lot of things, but certain issues– especially abuse of children or rape– I’m so line in the sand, one-strike-you’re-out about it. Like, if I were the judge, I’d hand out a sentence and sleep like a baby afterward. I’m ranting at Shell like, “I could give a RAT’S ASS about those boys crying. I could give an eff about their future. They’re grown boys and they assaulted another person, and the only thing they’re upset about is that they got caught. As far as I’m concerned, the punishment is barely enough, and every single adult that in any way covered this up or aided these boys or their friends should be brought to trial, too.”

I’m livid about the coverage of this, too. Can we just pause a minute and break this down: A GIRL GOT RAPED. A girl was gang assaulted, and there was MEDIA EVIDENCE OF THE ASSAULT. That’s the bottom line. SHE is the victim. She is the ONLY victim. And here’s the other thing: we need to back the fuck off of our victims. I don’t care what she was doing, or where she was, or what happened previous to this. I don’t care if she was drunk. Unless the person says YES, it is RAPE. I have no time for apologists with this or people who try to victim blame. We have so many excuses for why this happens. So many bullshit excuses.

Oh, she was at a party with a man she didn’t know.
Oh, she was at a party with a man she did know.
Oh, she was dressed in a way a man found attractive.
Oh, she was taking a bus too late at night.
Oh, she was jogging by herself.
Oh, she was drinking with her friends.

You know what? NO. This is NOT OUR FAULT, and we, as women, need to get ANGRY that these stupid, unjust “rules” are put on our gender, because in accepting them, we agree that we are in some way complicit when we are violated. We agree that, yes, we don’t have the right to alcohol in mixed company. We don’t have the right to walk around our own neighborhoods or cities. We don’t have the right to assume our personal boundaries will not be invaded. We’re accepting that we should abide by rules that effectively make us second class citizens.

Okay. That’s out. Soapbox over. It just really needs to be said. It cannot be said enough.

Back to Michelle’s house. Put Millie down for a nap. Watch ‘Anna Karenina’. Disc is broken. WHAT. Try two more times. No.

I call Redbox. A guy named Anthony apologizes and says he’ll send me two free codes. Okay. When I hang up, Michelle laments, “But I really wanted to see this movie.”

“Me too.”

“Well, let’s see if it’s on demand or anything.”

IT IS. Michelle buys it.

Movie is amaaaazing. It’s kind of horrible, actually, as far as a linear story goes (“I feel like someone just took drugs, read the book, took a nap, and that dream is this film,” Michelle quips), but people are all coming in and out with super British accents (RIGHT-O, GOOD CHAP! LET’S DABBLE IN A LITTLE RUMPY PUMPY!) (Michelle: “Aren’t they Russian?”) and then there’s lots of long stares and weird dialogue, and it becomes so ridiculous it circles back around into entertaining. One of the female leads is Princess Kitty. I say it out loud to Michelle, like, PRIN-CESS. KITTY.

This little fourteen year old looking kid named Boris is trying to get with Princess Kitty, and he’s not smooth at all. He’s like, May I have this dance, my sweet Princess Kitty? and she’s like, I suppose I have one spot left on my dance card, and he goes, HA HA! I HAVE FINALLY CONQUERED YOU! or something else similar that made Michelle and I side-eye each other.

Becca: This kid is weird, and he has no game.
Michelle: I know. He’s the worst.
Becca: Oh, here he goes. He’s trying again.
Michelle: UH, CAN I SEE YOUR BOOBS?

While I’m laughing, she adds, “I mean, um… may I have the privilege of gazing upon your royal breasts?” I can’t even breathe. Her: “You know in his mind he’s like, NAILED IT, BORIS!”

Nothing happens for a long time and nobody hooks up. Keira Knightley and the boy from Kickass dance together. And everyone starts gossiping. Because of their dance. It was too passionate a waltz, apparently, even though it was the exact same thing everyone else at the ball was doing. Then they finally DO get together, Let’s Give Them Something To Talk about style, and the most bizarre bedroom scene ensues.

Becca: …
Michelle: …
Becca: … I don’t. No.
Michelle: No. I don’t either.
Becca: That’s not how you do that.
Michelle: No, it isn’t. Is she BEHIND him?
Television: You murdered my happiness! YOU MURDERED MY HAPPINESS!
Becca: NO!
Michelle: Is this supposed to be sexy?
Television: YOU MURDERED MY HAPPINESS!
Becca: YOU SLAUGHTERED MY DREAMS!
Michelle: YOU RUINED MY LIFE!

I’m cry-laughing. WHAT. And then Anna is like I’M PREGNANT and Michelle and I gasp. “It’s so obvious,” I admitted, “and yet I totally didn’t see that coming.”

Then Millie wakes up and I have to go to the school. It’s so sunny outside! Seventy degrees, three clouds in the sky. Perfection.

I volunteer in Eli’s classroom about an hour a week, so I handle that. On the way out, my phone beeps to let me know Shell updated Facebook. She’s at Erin’s house! One street away!

Stop by and park, sneak around back because I can hear them gossiping on the patio. “LADDDIES!” I shriek, and they shriek. It’s Erin, Shell, and all the youngest girls– Quinn, Charley, and Millie. I take a seat. It’s warmed by the sun and Erin has my favorite water bottle I left at her house. Drink ice water from it. Gossip. Enjoy the heat. The girls are playing with Play-Doh on the table and their tiny Sims-like voices are delicious.

Hang out for about an hour. Head home. Bus arrives, kids are back, kiss their heads. Shell comes over, and we do chalk and bubbles and bike riding together. Michelle makes huge bubbles that the children chase all over the neighborhood. Millie keeps screaming, I CAN’T REACH! I CAN’T REACH! and it’s almost as funny to us as Boris was earlier.

Jason is sick so he comes home instead of going to the gym. I miss him a lot. He goes to the gym four days a week now (I don’t think I mentioned this, he’s lost over twenty pounds and is in great shape these days), and while I love and get his commitment to his health, I also like seeing him before eight at night. So this is a treat.

We cuddle up and watch ‘Argo’. I fall asleep. I always fall asleep at movies. Always. Wake up during the last thirty minutes, so I still fit some of the best parts in.

Then it was the normal bedtime routine for the kids– food, medicine, homework, books, tuck in, don’t fight, don’t kick, get back into bed, I already gave you a glass of milk, did you brush your teeth like I asked– and now I’m here, talking to you, telling you about my Tuesday.

That was it. That was my Tuesday. It was just lovely.

My husband’s texting me from upstairs and asking if I’m done, and I think I am. I’ll bring him some hot chai, we’ll start ‘Zero Dark Thirty’, and I’ll pass out again in twenty minutes. Heh. Nice way to go out. Nice way to wrap this up.

I’m just so happy, guys. I’m so happy right now– I can’t even remember the last time everything was so wonderful. I just feel so lucky to wake up and be a part of this family, this home, this place again tomorrow.

I’ve been trying to write this for six days, and honestly, I think the problem is that when something happens I need to talk about it RIGHT NOW RIGHT THIS SECOND IN GREAT DETAIL and then within twenty fours hours, something else happens and I’m– totally disinterested in the original story. Heh. I have, like, gossip ADD. Right after we came back from Puerto Rico, I was calling everyone, just long rambling monologues (“– and then they were like, No need to panic, but we have a medical emergency– are there any doctors on this flight?“) complete with weird asides and photos for days (“This is a tree in the rainforest! And this is ANOTHER tree! And here’s Jason by the tree but he moved so it’s kind of just, like, his knee– but I retook it six more times, and those came out better, so look at those too! In fact, let’s look at allll my vacation shots! That won’t make anyone want to shoot themselves!”).

But by the third or fourth day of being home, other ish was happening. SO MUCH ISH. I can’t even tell you. Like– I literally can’t even tell you. Legally. Heh. I can tell you a little bit, which is– okay, this is going to be shocking– sit down– Erin and Garrett are in the process of divorcing. It came completely out of left field. We found out a day or two before Christmas, and the entire thing has escalated quickly. It was one of those situations that was kind of touch and go for weeks, changed almost daily as to whether a reconciliation was going to happen, and then when it became apparent the marriage wouldn’t work, it got very ugly. VERY ugly. VERY fast.

I’m not saying this to air their dirty laundry (this is the most subdued version, trust), but it not only changed the dynamics of their family, it affected the rest of us too. I was heartbroken and angry for her as friend, I was shellshocked as a bystander. I was terrified as a fellow wife. That is– like, one of the worst things I can imagine; for everything to seem great with Jason and then one day he announces, sorry, he’s not happy, this is wrong, sign these papers, let’s sell houses, which weekend do you want the kids.

It made me scared, definitely. It made me appreciative of how important J is to me. How much I treasure our family unit. It opened my eyes, I guess. And it made both Michelle and I much closer to Erin. We went from being amiable cousins to BFFs almost overnight.

It’s been the only good thing to come out of this. I think we were all just kind of Moms around each other before– we talked mortgages, childbirth, new minivans, schools, vacations. Stuff like that. We all really enjoyed the other’s company, but collectively, we didn’t– like, TALK talk. And now we TALK talk. All the time. REAL talks that are about life and men and love and being a woman and what everything means. They’re– raw, and honest. They’re cathartic. All of this is so new– what she’s going through, everything she’s feeling out and dealing with. We have no good advice. We have no insight. We just love her. We just support her. Unconditionally. When she’s crazy, we can tell her, and when she’s right and deserves better, we can tell her. We can laugh together and just be silent together. And it’s been amazing.

That’s what I’ve been doing a lot of, lately. Hanging out with my girls.

And. Actually– on that note. Erin became the third in our group, and Rachel is the fourth. We met her at the gym one morning. We all work out in the same floor area, and she came up to ask about a move Michelle and I were attempting (attempting, not succeeding at). We admitted we found it on Pinterest. Heh. Rachel: “Oh my gosh, I love Pinterest!” Michelle: “WHO DOESN’T, AMIRIGHT?” And suddenly we’re talking Pinterest, and hey, you go to our church!, and how old are your kids?, where do you live? do you talk to that guy over there? He’s such a CARD, AMIRIGHT?

Fast forward a few weeks, and the group of us– Erin, Shell, Rachel and I– are practically inseparable. Karoake night. Trivia at the bar. Playdates. We take up four treadmills at the gym each morning and put our yoga mats together and do weird stretches and giggle.

I’ve never had this before. Like, a group of female friends. I’ve always had one-on-one relationships, exclusive things that I nurtured through coffee dates and private emails. This is a different kind of awesome, and I had no idea how badly I needed it until it happened.

-

The only other new person in my life is a kid named Kevin. Kevin is my personal trainer. I know. Collective groan all you want; I understand. I do the same thing when I have to say it out loud: “Oh, I can’t do anything that morning– I’m meeting with my personal trainer.” And then I want to punch my own face. Heh. It seems really indulgent but– like the Rachel and Erin thing, it just happened organically. I was walking into the gym one day, he asked if I’d gotten my free training session, I said no, he said let’s set something up.

That free training went well, so I signed up for more because Jason said it was fine, and I could just write it off as a Trip Cost for the honeymoon. And then when I finished those sessions, I bought more. And I just wrote it off as Because Bikini Season, heh.

I work out SO much harder with Kevin than I do on my own. Every time I’m like, That’s it, I have nothing left, he’s like, NOPE, YOU HAVE ONE MORE SET. On my own, I’m in shape. With Kevin, I’m an athlete. He kills me. He has pushes me until I’m shaking and cursing, but he never babies me, he never lets me give up, he never lets me wimp out or pull the I’m just a tiny girl card. He makes me squat. He makes me deadlift. He makes me do all kinds of weird ab exercises that burn. And as much as I hate it at the time, it’s always a great sore the next day, and I want more.

I really like Kevin. I do. It doesn’t hurt that he’s totally my brother– a young, Puerto Rican version of Ben, at least. They like the same movies, the same music. They tell the same jokes. They have the same intonation. Even one of their tattoos is the same. It’s both wonderful and bittersweet to have that reminder of a loved one far away.

-

The kids are great. Addie is still seizing, but nothing major recently. Small seizures, still a few a day; almost always at night. They’re very gradually switching her to a new medication, so she’s tapering into that. I think it’ll still be a month or two before we notice a difference.

For her sake, I just want this to be better.

Elias is healthy. Killing it at school. Handsome as ever. He’s going to be 10 in a month– TEN, yes– and we’re brainstorming his party. I think the theme is just going to be Stuff Eli Likes. Minecraft, Castle Crashers, Nyan Cat, Epic Face. The Twenty-One Balloons. I have no idea how we’re going to fit all that together, but– hey. You know us. We’ll try.

-

Okay. So. Puerto Rico. I’m sorry for holding off so long. I’m winding down (haven’t been sleeping well) so I’ll try to sum stuff up:

AIRPLANES! I love flying. This was no exception. We took Jet Blue and American. Everyone told me both airlines sucked. Jet Blue gave me my own television with Discovery ID and ‘House Hunters’. American had a communal TV showing canceled NBC comedies. Clear winner: Jet Blue.

AIRPORTS! Miami and RTP were the best. San Juan was confusing. Fort Lauderdale did not have actual floors, and there was only one shop, which sold Skittles and aprons with cartoon bikini bodies. Clear winner: not Fort Lauderdale.

RESORT! Was GORGEOUS.

The food was hella expensive, though. I paid sixty-five dollars for breakfast the first day, and all I had was toast and four slices of pineapple. Followed by a heart attack.

We talked to other guests about going off the resort because TOO MUCH MONEY, but were warned over and over against renting a car. “Don’t drive,” everyone said. “Puerto Rican drivers are the worst in the world.”

PUERTO RICAN DRIVERS! Are the worst in the world. Heh. We finally got sick of being robbed and ignored the advice– rented a car to explore. Jason got caught in San Juan during rush hour, in a storm, without a GPS or map, working phone, cash, or ability to speak the native language. Add that to people who didn’t respect traffic lights, speed limits, or turn signals, and it was– DICEY. I’m kind of amazed we made it back in one piece. We just kept taking major roads until something said Fajardo, and followed that blindly (and luckily) back to our hotel.

FAJARDO! Was beautiful and lush. Also, incredibly poor. I was not prepared for that. People told me– KEVIN told me, actually, being from there– that Puerto Rico as a whole was full of impoverished areas. But this was like– houses did not have walls. Sidewalks were actually crumbling underfoot from disrepair. Cars were just broken on the side of the road, there were wild dogs in the street. One of the public park restrooms didn’t have stall doors, toilet seats, or toilet paper. It was like an open air latrine, with no ability to clean up. It was definitely an experience, and pretty humbling.

THE RAINFOREST! Go see it. For real. Worth the trip. I wish we’d been able to walk more of it. Our guide drove us up and down the mountain, and only stopped occasionally for us to take pictures. The mountain has a SUPER winding road going up which is only one and a half cars wide, and yet two cars are always trying to make it past each other, hundreds of feet in the air on hairpin turns, and sometimes without guard rails. Also: we found out mid-trip that our guide only had one working eye. SO THAT WAS AWESOME.

THE BIOLUMINESCENT TOUR! This was– mixed. Kayaking was hard. Audrey told me it would be super easy, and she could kayak for hours, no big deal. I don’t know what kayaking she was doing, but it was not this kind. We went into a lagoon by way of the bay, and it was really hard against those boat waves and the current. Jason and I worked well as a team, but the experience was frustrating. We had a kayak group of like fifteen boats, and we all had to try and line up through a dimly lit canal. Tree roots everywhere. Snakes. Fish. Frogs. Almost nobody was at the same level of skill, so the boats are careening everywhere, and some people are too fast and they’re pulling ahead of the group, and some people are so slow they’re holding everyone back. It was just frustrating after about forty minutes.

The bio water itself wasn’t anything. The photos on the website show people swimming in blue, glowing water. MAGIC! In reality, they told us no one was allowed to swim in the water anymore– which, okay, environmental reasons. I get that. So we’re not swimming. We can just put a hand in from the kayak, and wiggle it around. Nothing. I didn’t see any glow at all. Jason swears there was, but I didn’t notice anything. It just looked like regular water. The guide said there was less bioluminescence this time of year, so maybe it’s awesome later on. I was underwhelmed.

THE SUN! The Caribbean sun is HOT. It is LAVA. Everyone told me this after I got back and was sunburned, but nobody told me before the fact. I’ve only browned in the summer before. I’m one of those people that tans almost instantly, and even after a day outdoors, I end up bronze and not red. So I was waaaaaaay too cocky going into this. Heh. Mother Nature really brought me down a notch. The second day after deciding I “don’t really need” to apply another coat of sunscreen, I was basically a lobster. It hurt SO BAD. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t move. Jason felt for me, but he also was kind of happy, because now we were bonded, and I could truly understand his pain every June, July and August.

SNORKELING! We’d never done it before, and this was a rough first experience. The tour dropped us in deep, choppy waters with no reefs or sea life to speak of. Our snorkels filled up with water from the intense waves, and Jason was coughing it up before long. When we got back to the ship, the rocking made us both want to vomit. It was so bad that even thinking about it now makes me sick; the way you think of a food that gave you poisoning once and your stomach turns all over again.

JET SKIS! Our hotel didn’t have a beach, but it had a private island you took a ferry to. The island rented water toys. On a total whim, we booked the jet ski for an hour. Okay, listen: if you get the chance to jet ski, TAKE IT. It ended up being the highlight of the entire trip. Imagine a four wheeler, but your road is the ENTIRE OCEAN. And you can make them go FAST, like sixty miles an hour. It’s just dangerous enough to be exciting, but not so dangerous you’re legit scared. We spent the entire hour screaming with glee: Faster! Faster! OW TOO FAST YOU ALMOST FLIPPED US! 

OLD SAN JUAN! We decided to visit the city and the forts the last day. It was magical. Clean, safe, full of history and restaurants, bright painted homes lining cobble-stoned streets. So scenic. SO scenic. Would definitely recommend.

JASON!

That’s where I left you, late last year. Addie was having seizures. No one knew the cause. Her neurologist initially passed them off as childhood tics. I pushed for a better answer. One EEG and MRI later, and here we are; here we are with a diagnosis. Schizencephaly. Like schizophrenia, I tell people when they trip over the pronunciation.

There’s a cleft in one hemisphere of her brain, in the middle of the speech and memory area. The gray matter isn’t connected, can’t send messages the way it’s supposed to. So she seizes. Multiple times a day. She’s been on medication for two months. She’s still seizing.

Most are mercifully short, maybe ten seconds. The longest was five minutes. Jason and I came in to get her for breakfast, and she was spasming, unresponsive. Whole body. Like she was being electrocuted. Right as we were about to administer an emergency shot, to call 911, she started to come out of it.

Most of the time she’s conscious and aware during the episodes, and can give us a thumbs up while she recovers. This time she was completely paralyzed.

I’ve had to tell that story multiple times now. Her paralyzation. How long it lasted. How limp she was in my arms. The way her eyes locked to the right. I had to recite it to doctors and teachers; I offered it to friends. Each time, it feels a little more like that– a story– and less how it was in the moment: panicked, traumatizing, perilous. Real.

She recovered. She was running around by the afternoon: bounding from couch to ottoman, ottoman to couch, chasing the dog around the house, looping giant bubbles with her wand.

Jason and I just watched her.

You take things like that for granted as a parent. The motion of children.

And then other things started happening in the background. Big things. Serious things. Two family members in the hospital. A friend with a messy divorce. A suicide attempt. House issues, job issues. One thing after another.

I wanted to focus on those, too. So I did.

Life just needed my attention for awhile.

I turned off my email. My Twitter. My Facebook. I wasn’t trying to avoid anyone, and I certainly didn’t mean to worry so many. I came back today to a flood of concerns, messages, well wishes. It’s… beyond humbling. And, honestly, makes me feel kind of awful; because I didn’t know there were people out there who thought I was dead, or forming prayer circles, or trying to send care packages, or anything like that. The fact that I scared you guys (especially to that degree) is terrible. It wasn’t intentional– stupidly, that hadn’t even crossed my mind. I just thought it would be an unnoticed bit of radio silence.

Thank you all for caring. Thank you all for loving our family so much. Again, I’m sorry– genuinely sorry– for causing you even a moment’s distress.

Jason and I are finally getting that honeymoon. It’s been the bright spot through a lot of this. We made plans last month to celebrate our ten year anniversary– then went through a guilty debating phase where Maybe we shouldn’t? Because of Addie? Because of work? Because of other obligations?

The amazing people in our life told us to shut up. Heh. QUIT THAT NOISE, they said. JUST GO. THINGS WILL BE FINE, WE GOT IT. GET OUT OF HERE ALREADY.

So we are. We’re just going. We’re just getting out of here already.

If you want, you can follow our travel on my new Instagram account. If not, I’ll meet you back here when we get home. We’ll have a long chat. I’ll tell you all about the old adventures. I’ll tell you all about these new ones.

I needed that break, but I missed each and every one of you like woah.

The very short version of a very long story is this:

Addie is having spells. She calls them eye twitches. They began as eye twitches, a few months back. I mentioned it on here. I assumed it was from her computer usage and TV watching (both, shamefully, high enough that it would warrant concern). We cut back on both. Thinking it was a potassium deficiency, we upped her banana intake. We made her sleep more. The eye twitches seemed to subside a bit. We assumed it was almost over.

Then the eye twitches came back. More strong. She began to drop her head while having the twitches. She said she couldn’t speak during them. They went from once a month, to once a week, to daily, to multiple times a day, in very short order. Other symptoms have shown up in the last few days. She slumps during some of them, her arms go up and rigid during all. She makes a low guttural noise. She drools. She has facial paralysis and slurred speech afterward, brief disorientation. When I hold her and look under her hair, her eyelids aren’t twitching at all; it’s as if she’s in the deepest, most frantic REM sleep ever. Her eyes are darting everywhere under her lids.

These last five to twelve seconds. She says she is conscious during them, can hear what I’m saying but is unable to answer. She can feel them coming on. Wondering if they were happening during the night, I brought her to bed on Thursday, and woke up at 4 AM to her slumped in my arms, twitching.

I hold her during most of them. Sometimes I murmur reassurances to her (it’ll be okay, almost done, Mommy’s here), sometimes I do other things like counting out loud see if she remembers it afterward (she does). The first time it happened I pressed my face into her hair, eyes wet, and whispered: Oh, my little girl.

It hit me later that was the exact phrase I’d spoken into her tiny, newborn ear when we were in the NICU seven years ago.

I took her into the ER this week. They sent me to a pediatric neurologist. We had an appointment yesterday, the earliest they could get her in. The neurologist, like the ER doctor, made her do a series of rudimentary tests: hopping on a foot, touching finger to nose, answering questions. She seems fine, was what I got. Maybe it’s just tics. That would be easy, the neurologist said. She wouldn’t even need medication. She’d just grow out of them.

While it would be easy if she had tics– and trust me, I think she does, she does these little spazzy jazz hands when she gets excited, which is cute but definitely tic territory– this, her spells, are not tics. There is no doubt in my mind. I know this in my gut, I KNOW this. I am sure. These are seizures. She is having seizures, and I felt like I was being totally brushed off because she “seems totally normal”.

I told the doctor, listen, she seemed normal at birth, too. She had perfect APGAR scores. Nobody knew by looking at her. They just knew she was seizing because she stopped breathing. I said, she was on heavy doses of phenobarbital for the first year of her life AND still having seizures, and she hit all her milestones. This is the kid who woke up multiple times after being dosed with anesthesia during MRIs. Her being alert doesn’t mean anything. PLEASE. We need to look into this. It’s getting more frequent and more serious– and she’s at a higher risk for strokes as is.

The doctor finally begrudged me an EEG. They initially wanted to do it for the end of December. I pushed for next week. Still, they said it would be weeks before results, and end of January before they’d see me again.

I took Addie out to the car after the appointment– sweet, bubbly little Addie: “Are you hungry, Mom? I’m so hungry. I like Panera, they have the best mac ‘n cheese, we could do a LADIES DATE, just you and me, sugar bear”– and I slumped in the front seat, completely physically exhausted and near tears. So fucking FRUSTRATED. My head hurt, my chest hurt, I hadn’t slept right in a week, and I have this poor kid who is having something serious going on and I have to do a whole song and dance to get them to TAKE CARE OF HER.

Call Jason. He can tell I’m thisclose to a total breakdown. I get Panera for Addie afterward, and he surprises me by coming home to take care of us. (Also, I should interject here that Michelle offered to hang out with us and play nursemaid, too. So. I have great people all around.)

I’ve spent the last day in bed, hacking and drifting in and out of sleep, and I just decided: you know what. You know what. I’m not going to be bitter about this– but I’m not going to be passive, either. I know there’s something wrong with my kid, and I’m not going to let a window of time where I could do the most good, get her the best treatment, pass me by.

My incredible pastor/friend Jonathan Bow gave me the name of another pediatric neurologist, this one at Duke, so I’m going to call his office Monday and see if I can get an appointment. I’d like a second opinion. I’d also like to see a doctor who specializes in epilepsy, which he does.

I have no medical degree. Any of my guesses come from observing Addie and hours of follow up Google-ing. Having said that, I believe she’s having simple partial seizures. The majority of her symptoms fit.

On the plus side– and there are many, I keep reminding myself– as it stands, if they are tics, they will supposedly be grown out of in a few years. If they are seizures, they should be able to be treated with medication– and could also be grown out of by adolescence. My only concern, and the only thing I need ruled out immediately or acted on immediately, is if this is related to her blood clotting disorder and is symptomatic of a stroke. Or a tumor. If this isn’t life-threatening or degenerative, then I can rest a lot easier.

In the meantime, we’ve been spending time with her– and Eli, both the kids– and counting our blessings. We live in a great area for hospitals. Duke is all of fifteen minutes away. We have healthcare. We’re switching coverage now, and while they may absolutely kill us on premiums with any issues that arise, we can afford to pay them. We have a tremendous support system. We have a lot of people who care about our little girl.

We are really, really lucky.

I’m going to go rest. I think this was all I had in me tonight.

Thank you again for your love and comfort. Will keep you all updated throughout next week. Sorry to ruin my daily posting… It took me a little while to be able to talk about this.