Happy Halloween & Thanksgiving & Thanksgiving & Thanksgiving & Thanksgiving

Probably the best thing about switching to Track 3 (please don't ask me to explain year-round schedules today; we have a lot of ground to cover) is that we get Halloween off.  Which means my kids can get dressed up in their costumes from the moment they wake up until the moment they pass out if they so desire.  And the next day, their teachers don't have to put up with their ridiculousness from late-night sugar highs.

The Most Extreme Ultimate Ultimateness Pt. 2

(Part 1, or "how I hobbled through the mountains last year," is here.  Part 1 is not intended for people who may be considering doing the Ultimate Hike.)

Despite a best effort from one of our coaches to pack days ahead of time, then check, double check, triple check, and quadruple check our bags, I still decided to leave packing for the Ultimate Hike until one hour before I needed to leave.  Because I like leaving much to chance.

And also because I forgot to wash my stinky wool socks until the morning of.  But I quadruple checked that I had my knee braces.  BECAUSE OF PART 1.

CAKE! TACOS!

A post for those who prefer books with pictures to books with more words because there are no pictures.

Eve woke up one day and turned five.  She was sent to school with an 80s cookie cake because of her love for Huey Lewis and because neon icing like totally tastes the best.

This amount of time it takes to load the pictures in this post is meant to encourage you to drink with me.

What do you get when you take a boy to the library and let him pick out a book to take home?

You get this:

And when I say, "I did things in that forest I never thought I'd do in a forest," I do not mean I was pooping in that forest.

In between the tooth fairy not coming to visit Natalie (but she left a note in the underwear drawer that she'd be back the next night because we have the TOOTH FAIRY OF THE YEAR in this house) and Nat waxing poetic about her dreams of growing up ("When I'm 18, I want to bring peace to the Middle East  cure cancer  learn the art of hard boiling eggs without turning the yolks gray sit in the bathtub and drink Diet Pepsi"), we've been all kinds of busy around here.  Like hiking.  And doing sweaty hike laundry.  And then forgetting about the laundry and throwing a damp washcloth in the dryer every few days while you run the touch-up cycle in the event you may one day remove the hike laundry from the dryer and actually fold it, but who do you think you're shining on- you know you're just going to leave that sports bra and moisture-wicking shirt in there until your next hike and let your sweat drown all your wrinkles away.

Worst. Day. Ever.

It’s been a while.  This is the all-you-can-eat buffet of blog posts, with lots of strange things that you would never expect to be side-by-side under the sneeze guard.  As with all things on the buffet, most anecdotes will not be held at the proper temperature and most definitely will have been violated by sticky kid fingers.  Eat at your own risk.

Why pink ribbons don't make me angry.

SEPTEMBER IS CHILDHOOD CANCER AWARENESS MONTH!!!!

I wrote it like that to get your attention.  In case you aren't friends on Facebook with people posting someecards that you think are going to be really funny and they turn out to be about childhood cancer and why you suck as a person if you don't know about it and it's totally a bummer.  I want to let you know that I didn't know anything about childhood cancer the day before my daughter was diagnosed.  Statistically, some kid you know is going to get it.  If you want to hear my alias Christina Griffiths talk about her daughter Eva/Ava, click here.  I'm pumped that for once I don't sound like I'm prepubescent.  My name could be John and my kid could be Larry and it wouldn't change the message so let's not dwell on the fact that I was born with a name that would always be misspelled (Christy Saunders was often Christie/Kristie/Kristy/Kristi/Christi/Cristy Sanders before I started challenging people to find Christ and add a Y) and then got married and assumed a new name that no one would spell correctly (Christy Griffith is now Christie/Kristie/Kristy/Kristi/Christi/Cristy Griffin/Griffiths/Griffyndor) and then named my kid a name that no one believes is really her name (Is that short for Eva?  Evelyn?  Did you say Ava?  No, it's like Adam and...Eva?).

Disorderlies

This is pretty much how my Tuesdays start.  A splash of sass and Eve's good to go.

Gary, Larry, and Darryl

Let me preface this post by saying that I have never been one of those people who tunes into Shark Week and afterward is terrified to step foot into the ocean.

Then I saw this YouTube video with a woman who is fishing and a bull shark jumps out of the water and snatches the fish off her pole at the beach we go to every year.  Somehow, I managed not to be afraid to send my family into the ocean.

Snickers, bacon, tacos...oh my!

We have had a busy few weeks around here.  When you don't hear from me, it's because we're too busy being normal? not having cancer definitely being normal definitely being kind of almost normal.  It is easy to blog often when you are sitting in a chair in a hospital in a waiting room.  It is not easy to blog often when you invite your kids to make a birthday cake out of candy.  Have you tried to clean up after inviting your kids to make a birthday cake out of candy?

Surviving Survivor's Guilt

I'm living with the guilt. In fact, it even feels wrong to say living with the guilt when the reason I feel this way is that others who have walked our path aren't living.

That is certainly not to say that I want to switch places with them. I want nothing more than to ease their pain. 

No one wants to lose a loved one to cancer, especially not a child. Your child.

I -heart- weirdos

Consider this your invitation to join Team Eve at the second Triangle CureSearch Walk!  No need to RSVP, just click here and register.  It's only $10 for adults and kids are free. The best part is, if you can't be there in person, it don't even matter.  You can sign up as a "virtual walker" and feel good about helping the bald kids.

Hope you enjoyed your vacation...

Because it's time to go back to school.  I really hope those seven days of vacay were good to you.

Exciting ways to die

While Daniel showed physical signs of being sad that school was over, Natalie kept it all inside.  Until I looked in her backpack.

And then some other stuff happened.

I just want to make sure none of you ask me to cut your hair, because I will freaking buzz your brains out.  I make haircuts hurt.  And I smile when I do it.  And I don't wear make-up.

please oh Please Oh PLEASE

Natalie's dress rehearsal found me flanked with Thing 1 and Thing 2 who wanted nothing more than to ask me loud questions about the music and ask me louder questions about the Fruit Loops.

(I like to keep generic Fruit Loops in my bag for such occasions as ballets, operas, and that time of day when snack time hits but your window is broken so the Taco Bell drive-thru isn't an option.  I probably did lose a few pounds thanks to that window until I just started opening up my door and hanging out to catch my chalupas.)

HAPR B DAY

When Natalie said she wanted to have a sleepover for her birthday I was like AWW, YEAH BUDDY.  A few seven-year-olds is much harmless than twenty of them ganging up on me.  I could handle twenty six-year-old boys; I would just throw them in the backyard with some hot dogs and water guns and let them go to town, only to reappear when they run out of ketchup or good-naturedly break an arm while deck diving .  Twenty seven-year-old GIRLS is like Baby Melrose Place and I don't take no baby drama from no baby mamas.  And by "baby mama" I mean a little girl, not like the way men mean it when they are talking about who they haven't been paying child support to.

While you were gone...

My husband went to China for two weeks.  I was going to post about what we had been up to while he was gone so he could experience it with my award-winning pictures and colorful vocabulary but then I remembered that the Chinese Internet Police probably wouldn't allow for the transmission of this blog to his laptop.

The Eve Show

What a difference two years off-treatment makes.  (I mean, besides not having cancer.)  I'm talking about hair long enough to put up in a ballerina bun.  And when you compare that to cancer, it sounds pretty shallow.  But dude, have you ever tried to put the last three strands of hair that your daughter didn't lose into a bun?  Trust me, buns are serious business.  My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun.

The only thing less useful than a comprehensive overview of the Franco-American War.

With quiet threats muttered under Daniel's breath the days leading up to his birthday celebration (Don't ruin my day), I did my best to come up with something that would pass as a Pac-Man party.  And believe it or not, there's not a lot of Pac-Man themed items in the party aisles.  It's almost like we were throwing this particular party thirty years too late or something.

He begged for a pinata.  The closest I could find looked like a nine-year-old girl's fantasy: Smiley face!  Rainbow!  Hibiscus!  OMG, all in one!  Fortunately for me, we were dealing with a character who is pixelated enough to be rendered fairly accurately with cut-up napkins.

Yolks: bane or boon for mankind?

Scene:

INT. KITCHEN - MORNING, FOUR DAYS BEFORE BIRTHDAY

Daniel paces around Christy as she tirelessly scrubs the dishes in the sink.  He waves a brightly colored piece of paper in her face, determined to give a paper cut in the eye.

Nacho Cheese

The kids got into the second school we wanted so...yay.  We didn't get to keep our current schedule so they'll be on a different track so...I'm okay with that.  Seriously, I don't even care when they go to school, as long as I'm not driving across town and I'm not expected to keep them home for three months all at once; I don't know that I could remember how to do that.  I would probably be really smelly because I can never figure out when to shower when my kids are home.  It's not fun when little people keep opening up the shower door and letting out all the heat and then poke you in your fluffy parts and ask how you got those stretch marks there.

The Wake County Hunger Games

I'm fairly sure he did it just because I sounded the five-minute bell.  It's usually when I tell him we have to leave in five minutes that he does something ridiculous that would take five hours to undo.

Let's get physical!

Though we were in town for the Centennial Cherry Blossom Festival, we didn't venture downtown until it was time for fireworks.  I will never pass up the opportunity to see fireworks, unless they are being set off by rednecks in their driveways.  Rednecks and explosives make me nervous.  Rednecks will light their farts on fire if you hold their beer.

Alive with pleasure

The days before April Fool's were normal in all accounts in that I packed up some supplies to make a bit of tricky-up'd food before we headed to Matt's mom's house for the weekend.  The only thing I forgot was the lemon Jello, so I could make "lemonade" for the kids.

Upon arrival to Small Town, NC, I popped into a convenience store and picked up three boxes of gelatin.  Once at the front, the girl behind the register rings up my purchase and says, "Mmm...Jello shots," at two in the afternoon.

You will not, you will never

Day three of track-out, check.  For those of you who aren't familiar with year-round schools, it means you get to have three to four week breaks, once a season, all year long.  It's good for moms like me whose chests tighten up at the thought of someone giving me little people I passed through my loins and telling me I have to take care of them for three months straight.

For Keeps

So we got this couch.

It was a sleeper sofa.  It would fit in the playroom.  It was $100.

In accordance with the grand plan, I have been throwing away toys for the past year and moving those which I deem worthy from the playroom to the kids' rooms.  It all started with our Christmas party, 2010.  With fifty children on the guest list, I preemptively moved every last toy from the playroom into the garage.  You know, the place where some people keep their cars.

Candy from Strangers

Last Saturday, we packed the circus up and headed downtown to St. Baldrick's.  Eve was happy to wear her new shirt and pin to show everyone how much she appreciates their efforts.  And not just because she likes new clothes and accessories.

The Junk Drawer

If this post were a piece of my kitchen, it would be the junk drawer.  I love to keep lots of interesting things in my junk drawer: cell phones from 2005, coupons from 2008, permission slips from 2009, and twist ties.  I hoard twist ties and will dig them out of the trash can if you try to throw one away.  My junk drawer is a special place of non-related good intentions that don't always come to fruition.  Like that free tube of lipstick I got from the department store that I just know will one day look good on me, because a color called "Pervette" can't go wrong.

Bald is Badass

Lenten update: mouse #8 has met its maker in the garage.

Cupid Strikes Again

Valentine's Day at first only served to remind me how I'm losing my mind.  I bought small treats for the kids in advance (against my better judgment) and hid them in a place that I just knew I'd remember when the time came to find them.

It took six hours of on-and-off searching to find the heart-shaped chocolate.

Kamikaze Monopoly

Everyday I get to wake up no less than eight different times.  The first time will be Eve asking if she can sleep with me, and ten times out of ten I say yes because I'm too tired to fully comprehend the question she survived cancer! The next two times will be Natalie and Daniel laughing maniacally at each other while turning on all the lights upstairs, because it is still dark outside.  After that, Eve will wake me up to ask if she can use the potty in our bathroom, which must be so fabulous that she thinks every morning at 5 a.m. I am going to say it's too posh for her bottom.  Daniel will then come into the bedroom and ask if he can go downstairs and get a pack of crackers.  Natalie will come in next to tell me Daniel is downstairs eating a pack of crackers.  I get up again to go pee, because Eve is laying on my bladder.  Then, just before the sun rises, I will be awakened to some sort of construction paper craft shoved in my face accompanied by the voice of a grade schooler who says, "Here, Mommy.  I made this for you!"

The case of the busted face

After a fun Friday the Thirteenth at Duke, we loaded up the van and headed to Matt's mom's house.  We stopped at Taco Bell for our victory tacos and our van smelled of taco meat for the rest of the weekend.  I'm sure it didn't help that we ate twelve of them inside a closed vehicle with the heat on.  There is nothing to speed away the smell of taco cling other than time, and maybe a box of baking soda.

CT stands for cat

Some people move up scans because they think they feel a lump in their child's abdomen.  Some people move up scans because their kid just isn't acting right.  Some people move up scans because they can't bear the three-month wait.

Some people move up scans so they can hit their deductible so Daniel can go to speech therapy.

(Me.)

Eve -hearts- Duke

We love sick kids.

Wait a second.  That sounds weird.

Take two: we love sick kids, but hate that they are sick.  We want to help them not be sick.  Sick sucks.

There.  That sounded awesome!

Go Pack!

Because I'm friends with the most awesomest photographer I know, we get the most awesomest family pictures.  I'm talking about Wolfpack pride!  Because winter pics with hats and scarves are so 2010.  Or until we decide to wear hats and scarves for winter pics again.

Make it rain

So, with three weeks left of track-out after the New Year, I did what any of you would do with three hyperactive children; I loaded them up in the van and drove them to my parents' house to share the moxie. Older people are always wishing they had something called "their energy."

Of course, the world's only Chuck E. Cheese's is located in Waldorf, Maryland.  It is a fine place to expel energy.  We are lucky that my parents live in Waldorf.

The resolve to try.

So, apparently Santa likes to shop the day after Halloween sales.

A season of miracles

Being that it was Christmastime, and Christmas being the time of miracles, I shouldn't have been so shocked that Daniel and Eve stopped sucking their thumbs overnight. I'm sure if it were done any other time of the year it wouldn't have been as miraculous, unless it were Easter, which is when I heard something big happened once.