Kirtyhoo

Kelsey sent me the following text message on Saturday, May 3, 8:09 am

hey mommy! i just wanted to say i love you so much and im going to be playing for you today. (can you bring me some seeds and a gay-to-rade) thanks mom! i love you x3 billion!

Not sure what makes me more misty-eyed… the “i love you x3 billion” or the brilliantly played request for snacks bookended with a well executed suck up. 

My 17-year old son quickly corrected me, “It’s up your nose with a garden hose.”

“Yeah, well in your ear with a can of beer,” I replied.

Last Thursday, I received THE CALL. Fell out of my chair and started planning my bucket list.

Caller: Ms. Stanaway, the radiologist has detected a 0.6 cm obscured density on your mammogram.

Me: (what the hell did she just say? Oh, God. I’m dying.) Silence

Caller: Ms. Stanaway, we need you to come in for a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound. Are you free tomorrow or Monday?

Me: (Oh, God, this is serious – they need me to come in right away.) I’m free Monday.

Caller: Ok, we’ll see you at 2:15…. And then, all I hear was blah, blah, blah, obscured density that differs from your previous mammogram, blah, blah, don’t wear deodorant, blah, blah. Do you have any questions?

Me: Ummm, what? (I can’t even comprehend what you just told me – and can’t even talk with this lump in my throat. So even if I had a question, I can’t get the words to come out of my mouth.)

So, I spent the weekend calming my nerves with cold beer and hard labor in my garden. Monday’s appointment came and went – boobs painfully squished into flat, little pancakes. And the radiologist found nothing. Hallelujah!

Apparently, I’m part of a growing trend in the mammogram biz. This article appeared in the New York Times yesterday. Rather timely! 

Ladies – schedule your annual appointments TODAY. It sucks, but there’s power in knowing that you’re OK.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/04/10/closet.body.ap/index.html

After reading this story, I’m running home and cleaning out my underwear drawer. Not because I’m hiding a dead body. But in the unfortunate event that I should choke on an olive pit and keel over, the last thing I need is my mother helping Wes to clear out my things and finding that horrible pair of neon pink underwear with the rhinestones – and knowing that I had sex.

This is a re-enactment of a crime that took place at our house on the evening of April 5^th between 10:45 p.m. and midnight. Names have not been changed to protect the innocent.

Kelsey enters stage right into dark TV room where Tyler and I are watching Michael Clayton.

KELSEY: Umm, is the green bag still in the back of the car? I think my blue flip flops are in it.

ME: I think so. Just be sure you lock the car when you’re done.

Kelsey exits stage left. Door opens. Kelsey goes outside. Sound of footsteps. Car lights on. Sound of car door shutting and footsteps approaching. Kelsey re-enters the house, shuts the door and enters stage left.  

KELSEY: Found them! (exits stage right)

Five minutes later, Kelsey re-enters stage right.

KELSEY: I don’t think I locked the car. I’m going to check.

ME: (sounding slight annoyed) Didn’t I ask you to lock the car?

ME TO ME: This is weird. Since when has Kelsey been so attentive to ensuring that the car is locked? Something’s up. Just be patient. Don’t let on to this suspicious behavior. You’re a genius parent not to mention… you were so much better about sneaking out when you were in high school

Door opens and shuts. Kelsey goes outside. Sound of footsteps. Ding of car alarm being set remotely. Door opens and Kelsey appears from stage left.

KELSEY: Got it. (and exits stage right)

ME: Thanks.

Less than five minutes later, Kelsey re-enters stage right.

KELSEY: Oh. I guess Hailee forgot her mitt at school. I told her she could borrow my old one. I think it’s in the back of the car. I’ll grab it. Be right back.

ME TO ME: Oh yes, something is definitely up. Since when did Kelsey become so helpful – and at 11 o’clock at night? Don’t make eye contact. Just be cool and casual.

ME: Oh, ok – just remember to lock the car.

Kelsey exist stage left. Door opens and shuts. Kelsey goes outside. Sound of footsteps. Car light goes on. Headlights appear and vanish. Second set of headlights appear and quickly go dark. Dark shadows appear and run across the street towards our house and the car.

ME TO ME: Told you. Either Kelsey is completely innocent and simply in the wrong place and we’re about to be robbed and my precious teenager is outside all by herself! Or, those are teenage boys and they’re running toward my daughter – and she’s outside in the dark all by herself — and she’s thinking that I’m a complete dumbass and oblivious to everything going.

ME: Not on my watch.

I exit stage left. Open the door – no time to close – just leave it wide open. Flip on the outdoor light – the one with the big spotlight that until now, I completely hated Wes for installing – but now understand the genius behind it – and walk toward the end of the driveway.

As I approach the end of the driveway, I see shadows running and hear car doors slamming. The dark car across the street comes alive and takes off. I walk around the back end of the Mountaineer and there they are. Standing there, hugging. 

ME: Kelsey!

KELSEY: Mom! Robbie just…

ME: You two can finish your conversation in the house. Now!

I turn. Walk back to the house. Close the door behind me and wait.

Sound of footsteps running towards the house. Kelsey opens the door and enters.

KELSEY: Mom. Robbie and Patrick were at McDonalds and decided to come by and say hi. I didn’t even know. (nervous laugh) I was just out getting the mitt and then they just showed up.

ME: (extend hand towards Kelsey with palm up) Phone.

Without saying a word, Kelsey hands over her cell.

ME: You can go to your room now.

DIRECTOR’S NOTE: This is where you can either completely freak out or try a genius parental move that I call – Less is More. My mother would have called it the Silent Treatment. By not freaking out and not lecturing the child on the dumbass move they just pulled, you begin to seriously freak them out. It extends the pain and leaves them alone to think about the situation – and wonder if they’re about to get grounded for life. It’s brilliant. Requires less energy. And will work in 90% of all cases.

Walking to my bedroom, I walk into the master bath where Wes is holed up, working on our latest renovation project – and completely oblivious to the excitement that just transpired.

ME: (handing the phone to Wes and saying in a cool, casual voice) Just caught your daughter outside in the dark with boys. (turn, walk away and exit stage right)

WES: KELSEY!

Mighty Kelsey stepped up to bat last night as the Eagle Mustangs took on the Centennial Patriots. Smack! Line drive down the first base line. Homerun. My screaming was almost as big as the grin on her face as she crossed the plate. Nice work, Kelsey.

 Eagle 11 Centennial 7

My beautiful friend Isaiah continues to battle for his life. He’s only 11 years old and for the past two years, he’s been fighting AML Leukemia. This past Thanksgiving, he underwent a bone marrow transplant in Seattle. At first, all signs looked great. Isaiah bounced back from the transplant and his blood levels were improving. But as I’ve learned with this ugly disease — one day the tests are great and the next, you’re told to anticipate the worst.

Izzy’s transplant was unsuccessful and the leukemia has returned for the fourth time — and probably final time. Last night, I received a text from his parents explaining that Isaiah had a fever, that they were headed to the hospital — and to pray against infection and that he would be able to stay at home vs. the hospital. My heart is breaking and I’m helpless to watch this Spongebob-loving, sweet boy deal with this crap. To watch his dad and stepmom desperately hold on to hope of a miracle as they’re forced to have discussions with physicians now about ambulatory care in case Isaiah becomes unresponsive. How do you do this? I can’t. I’m not ready for this. I’m still looking for that miracle.

For updates on Isaiah and to learn more about AML, check out: http://www.overcomeaml.org/

So, I always seem to have a loooong list of self-improvement goals that I’m working toward. Get in shape is always on there. And, with the big 4-0 coming up this year, I have visions of being in the best shape of my life. Seriously. I dream of sporting a bikini (and I’m not talking about one of those with a skirt attached to the bottom!) and walking the full length of the dock without having to strategically drape a beach towel around my waist.  

So what am I doing about it? I guess I’m just trying to find the right motivation. I mean, I’m a dedicated follower of The Biggest Loser and basically worship the ground my BTT (Best TV Trainer) Jillian Michaels works out on. And I’m completely in awe of the 350 pound contestants that lose 100 pounds overnight and can turn down a plate of Ding Dongs – just not inspired enough to get up off the couch and walk farther than the kitchen. See why this topic is ALWAYS on my list? 

The other thing I’m working on is being nice. I’d like to think that I’m generally a nice person, but there are times when it’s really f*#%ing hard to be nice. Like when I’m driving down a four-lane road and stuck behind cars in each lane that are going 45 in a 55 mph zone. I can’t decide if these morons are unable to read speed limit signs or if they’re intentionally trapping me – forcing me to drive slower and pissing me off. Or like the sweet gal at Hollywood Video that other day. I set two movies and fudge bar (not mine – it was for Kelsey. Really!) on the counter. The gal takes the movies, rings me up and then says, “Oh. Did you also want the fudge bar?” No, you freaking idiot. I like to take things from all over your store and arrange them here on your counter – just to entertain myself while I’m waiting for you to figure how to use the freaking computer. Trying to be nice – but this is usually where I freak out. And my kids know what comes next. It’s embarrassing. But I’ve noticed that they’ve started to intervene. Kelsey jumped right in with, “Yes. We would like the fudge bar. Thank you.” as she pushes me towards the door.  Tyler does the same thing, “It’s ok, mom. Calm down.”  

But last week, I attended a presentation called “Rachel’s Challenge.” (http://www.ktvb.com/ktvb/youth/) It’s part of a nation-wide speaking tour that challenges students and adults to “start a chain reaction of kindness and compassion.” You see, Rachel is Rachel Joy Scott – the first student killed in the Columbine shootings on April 20, 1999. And after her death, her parents found an English essay that she had written that outlined her code for life. In her essay, she explained that “we can start a chain reaction with one simple act of kindness.”

Rachel’s father poured out his daughter’s message of hope and compassion for others. His first request – look for the best in others. So this has been my task for the week. Before getting upset or thinking the worst, I’ve tried to step back and respond in a more compassionate manner. Now I haven’t been 100% successful (and sometimes it’s challenging to find the best when dealing with a complete arrogant asshole) – but just one step at a time. One person can make a change – and change the world. 

Before her death, Rachel touched hundreds of lives – stood up for kids being picked on in school and helped complete strangers on the street. Since her death, this young girl has changed millions of lives – including mine and I look forward to paying it forward. You see, being nice is nice. 

Upon learning that his beloved ho-bag Daisy is still living with her ex-boyfriend, Rock of Love bad boy Brett Michaels explained, “It hit me right in the nards.”

Laughing hysterically, Kelsey said, “Nards. Who says nards?”

Tyler replied, “Dad does.”

Ok, so no fine china on the Stanaway dinner table — but we did actually sit down and eat together like a real family. All four of us around a table with all the fixin’s –mashed potatoes and gravy, BBQ pork ribs (sorry, mom. No traditional Easter ham here), rolls, asparagus and other odds and ends. Wes said grace and we thanked Jesus for all of our friends and family out there that love us no matter what.

Then, we start passing the food around like normal families when Tyler decides that he can’t chew without background music.

“How ’bout Juno?” Tyler said more like a statement than a question.

“How ’bout we just talk,” I said.

“Boring. I really need some background music,” he said as he proceeds to get up and walk to his bedroom. I give Wes the eye (the what the *%&#()&#* is that all about look) and add more gravy to my taters. Here comes Tyler back with his iPod.

“You’re not listening to that at the dinner table,” I said with my 1950’s June Cleaver accent.

“I’ll just have in one ear. Come on. I really need some background music,” he claimed in his best you’re all such a bunch of morons voice.

“Ok, then how ’bout this for background noise?” So I do the natural thing and cut into a little K C and Sunshine Band, “Doo do do, do dooo do do. Celebrate good times. Come on. It’s a celebration. Celebrate good times. Come on. Yeah. Cele….”

“Now see what you did,” Wes said. “You had to get her started.”

And then the usual commentary from Kelsey, “Mom, you’re such a dork.”

“Oh, a little too much action for dinner?” I asked. “Well, then. How about…”

“Mom!” Tyler and Kelsey chime in unison.

“Ok. So then let’s talk.” I said while thinking that I have the most brilliant parenting skills in the world. Thank you very much!

Kelsey’s turn. “So you know how we’ve been reading Romeo & Juliet in class?”

“Oh, yeah.” I said. “How’s that going? Did you finish?”

“The kids in my class are just SOOO immature,” she said — with a heavy stress on SOOO. “You can tell the kids that haven’t had sex ed.”

“What?” said Wes, trying not to laugh and spit out a mouth of mashed potatoes.

Kelsey continued. “Yeah, everytime someone says something like bosom, tit or buttocks, they start giggling.”

“Well, maybe they just not comfortable hearing those words,” I said.

“Yeah, maybe they’re families say ‘boobies and ass’,” Wes said. (ha! nice one, Wes. You said booby and ass while we’re eating Easter dinner)

And Kelsey follows in her infinite wisdom, “Do you think they say penis at their house or pee pee?”

Thank you, Jesus, for the blessing of this meal. Amen.