Nap, anyone?

Not in our house, no.

We haven't had regular nap time in a long time chez Wells.  Dallas quit napping when he was two years old.  You parents will understand how heartbreaking that is.  He probably still needs a nap from time to time, but no way will the kid ever succumb to sleep in the middle of the day.  The bonus is that he goes to bed by 7:30 PM, so I get some time to myself in the evening.

Lottie, of course, hasn't napped in ages, either.  She currently has a cold along with terrible seasonal allergies, so she's a real peach to be around.  Combine the runny nose and itchy eyes with Daddy being busy all week at work in trial preparation, the last week of school looming, return from Walt Disney World let-down, and The Move coming up quickly, and you have one testy gal.  Yesterday morning, she got up waaaaay too early for her own good, and mine, and spent the rest of the early hours of the day whining, pouting, and being generally disagreeable.  Knowing that she had a birthday party to attend today, I reminded her that I wouldn't take her to Chuck E. Cheese unless her attitude improved.  I might as well have poked a sleeping bear with a stick.  After my little talk with her, she looked at me with her ice-blue big eyes and said, "Mommy, you're a good mom, but you're not the best."  Then she turned on one heel and flounced away.  My answer was to tell her I was trying, but quite frankly, my first reaction was to tell her that she wasn't exactly the best kid, either.  You'll be happy to know I bit my tongue.

Sometimes even the mighty can't resist a little nap.

I don't need no stinkin' nap!

After lunch, which she refused to eat, I laid down the law: we were all going to have a mandatory rest period.  I had to take Dallas to a birthday party yesterday afternoon from 4-6 PM, and I wanted him to rest as well.  Their choice was to either snuggle in our bed with me or stay in their own rooms.  Dallas chose to "rest" in his own room, and Lottie picked the big bed with me.  After about thirty minutes of squirming, talking, insisting she wasn't tired, and getting all up in my grill, Lottie finally fell asleep.  Houston, we have napping!  I dozed a little bit, but my main goal was to get Lottie's mood improved.  Dallas played happily alone in his room and eventually joined us for some hugs.

After the successful rest, I decided that I may not be the best mom, but by getting Lottie to take a nap, I may be the smartest.  :)

Is there a support group for this?

Hello.  My name is K. C., and I'm a Disneyholic.

We just returned from our yearly trip to Walt Disney World.  People always have an opinion about our vacations: either they think it's wonderful or they don't get it at all.  The naysayers think we're crazy to go to the same place over and over or for taking little kids on a trip that they won't remember.  Bah humbug is what I say to that.

I have been going to WDW with my family since I was a little girl.  I have amazing memories of being there with my parents, my brother, my grandparents, my aunt, and my cousins.  We went so many times together that I lost count.  I knew that when I started my own family, I wanted to continue the tradition.  Luckily, I was smart enough to marry a man who loves WDW as much as I do, and he is ready and willing to go as often as I am.  We have taken the kids with us every time because that's what a family vacation is all about; quite frankly, I can't imagine going without them.  (Well, I can imagine it, but I'd never do it.)  We have gone with my parents, Trevor's parents, and my brother and his family.  We even took our fabulous sitter, Nicole, with us one time because we wanted her to experience the fun with us!  We get to see Trevor's aunt Ruth and cousin Meg while we're in Florida as well.

One of the great things about WDW is its concern for people with food allergies.  It's not a true vacation for me when I have to worry about what Dallas is eating, and that happens everywhere we visit except WDW.  As soon as I make our dining reservations, I note Dallas's food allergies on the reservations.  At the restaurants, a chef comes to our table to either tell me what Dal can and cannot eat on the buffet or to create a special allergen-free meal just for my boy.  There are always a ton of options available to him, so he doesn't feel like he's missing out on what the rest of us are eating.  That's reason enough for me to return again and again.

As far as the kids not remembering the trips when they're so young, I call shenanigans on that.  Lottie has been to WDW eight times now; Dallas has gone six times plus once in the womb.  They DO remember previous trips and comment on them all the time.  On our most recent trip, Lottie remembered being at a restaurant two years ago with Aunt Ruth.  She also remembered her favorite ride, the Great Goofini, with no prompting.  And even if the kids wouldn't remember the trips, so what?  Trevor and I remember them, and that's what counts.  We have photos and memories of each trip to share with the kids as they get older.  That logic just doesn't make sense to me anyway.  The kids won't remember the books I read to them when they were little, so does that mean I shouldn't read to them until elementary school?  Should I basically keep them in the house all day since they won't remember going anywhere?  I think not.  The happiness in their faces is worth every penny we spend, every crazy travel moment, and each minute we're away from home.

Each trip we have taken has been a different experience.  When the kids were really little, the pace was slower and the rest periods much longer.  Now that neither Lottie nor Dallas will nap any more, we tend to explore the parks until mid-afternoon when they get pretty tired.  During this trip, both kids were water bugs.  We spent a lot of time at the pool at Bay Lake Tower.  I knew Lottie would be all about swimming, but Dallas has never liked being in the water.  I was stunned that he absolutely loved being in the shallow end of the zero-entry pool.  They both wanted to spend a lot of time at the pool, and Trevor and I obliged.  It was great to have Pop Pop there, too, to give T and I a little break from the chlorine.  There were some evenings that we walked over to the Magic Kingdom in the evening, but we didn't do it every night like we have in the past.  Swimming so much made for two tired kids!  And this was the first time we let the kids stay awake to watch the fireworks.  As expected, Lottie loved them, and Dallas was unhappy about the loud noises.  Despite the noise, it was really cool to have that moment with them.   (Note: it was cool for me, but poor T almost had a stroke.  We watched the fireworks show from the top floor of Bay Lake Tower, and he wasn't too fond of having the kids up so high.  And he thinks I'm the worrier?  Ha!)

WDW is truly a place where a kid can be a kid.  With how quickly kids seem to grow up these days, I'm thrilled to watch my children run, play, laugh, and act their ages.  They both know that the characters are just people dressed up, but that doesn't stop them from being enchanted with each new person they meet.  Lottie earnestly told Ariel all about our upcoming move to Valpo, and Dallas blew kisses to Tigger, Pooh, Piglet, and Eeyore.  They both dressed like pirates and carried swords around with them wherever they went; no one even gave them a second look unless it was to compliment their choice of clothing.  I think that's the way childhood should be; kids should be who and what they want to be without pressure or judgement.  

So we'll continue to take our kids to WDW and other places as well.  I definitely want them to experience the world and all it has to offer, but I also want them to have happy memories of time spent together as a family in a place full of magic and wonder.  

And so it begins...

I have been a little MIA in the blogosphere lately.  I have great ideas for blog posts, and when I sit down at night after the kids go to bed...I'm too tired to write.  The last few weeks, I have been getting back to normal (or as normal as I get) while my new thyroid meds start to kick in.  However, I don't really have the luxury of time to sit around while the meds do their magic due to The Move.

The Move is happening in eleven weeks and three days.  That may seem like plenty of time to get everything done, but I assure you, it is not.  I have to declutter and pack up a 4,400 square foot house while trying to manage taking care of the rest of my usual chores.  In addition to kid stuff, mowing, laundry, more kid stuff, and then some kid stuff, I'm keeping the house in "showing" condition and packing as much as humanly possible every day.  So far, things are going pretty well.  I have gotten rid of a lot of stuff - a LOT - by donating it to a local church.  As an awesome bonus, Fausto, who has done  house painting work for us in the past, comes and picks everything up from us.  Score!  The trick is to get rid of things while the kids are at school or otherwise occupied.  If they're around, every single thing I try to put in the donation box becomes the VERY BEST TOY EVER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.  Quite frankly, I sort of have to pull the same shenanigans with Trevor.  I found a box of files that had some of his old phone records and random bills from when he was in law school.  Uh huh.  I'm really glad he moved those from house to house without ever opening the box.  So, bye-bye bills.  Bye-bye college textbooks.  Bye-bye gross, sweat-stained baseball hats.  (And you just know he's going to read this now and immediately begin to squirrel things away.  Here's a tip for you, T: you had better start bolting things down because Mama's going scorched earth and there's nowhere to hide.)

It's not just that it costs about a billion dollars per pound for a long-distance move.  I mean, that's a huge factor, but it's more that I am ready to live a simpler life.  I want less...stuff.  Less stuff to clean, to care for, to worry about, to move, and to contain.  I want to spend more time with my family and the people I love.  I want to spend more time doing what I love to do and enjoying each day as it comes.  I'm always going to have the memories associated with the things even if I don't have the things, you know?  If the whole cancer brouhaha taught me anything, it's that being happy doesn't come from having things; it comes from appreciating all of the intangibles in life.  Peace comes from forgiving, starting over, and moving on; it doesn't come from holding on to what you don't need.  Don't get me wrong: I still have stuff but I think a lot less of it will help me focus on what's really valuable in my life.

The facts of life according to Lottie

Here is a transcript of my bedtime conversation with Lottie tonight:

Lottie: "Mommy, can I snuggle in your bed with you?"
Me: "Just for a minute, baby, but it's time for bed."
Lottie: "But I don't like being alone in my room.  Can I sleep with you and Daddy."
Me: "No."
Lottie: "But I'm lonely in my room."
Me: "When you're a grown-up and married, then you won't sleep alone anymore."
Lottie: "When I'm married, I'm going to have my bed right next to your bed so I can crawl across and hug you anytime I want to in the night."
Me: "Hmm, I don't know if the person you marry will like that very much."
Lottie: "Mommy!  Dallas won't mind at all."

And there you have it.

Sweet relief

The surgery on Thursday went well.  I spent another lovely night at Central Baptist Hospital.  Don't get me wrong: the people are really nice there, but I quickly grew weary of being woken up every three hours, sleeping with an oxygen mask on, and being fed orange Jello and beef broth.  I got to go home pretty early on Friday morning, and as if the whole ordeal hadn't been bizarre enough, leaving the hospital was even more bizarre.  The nurse refused to unhook me from the IV until I ate solid food, but she wouldn't give me any solid food.  She also insisted that I sleep in the oxygen mask even though my oxygen sats were fine.  After the shift change, I got a new nurse who was on duty when I was discharged.  She and the student nurse who was shadowing her unhooked me from everything, and then the nurse proceeded to tell me that when my ride arrived, I could go ahead and just leave.  All I had to do was wave to the nurses at the nurses' station and tell them I was leaving.  By myself.  On my own two legs.  Without a wheelchair.  I mean, I was perfectly capable of walking to the elevator and to the front door alone, but I found it odd that the nurse would let me go alone due to liability.  As I was walking down the hall to leave, a staff member stopped me and said, "What are you doing?  Does your nurse know you're walking down the hallway?"  When I told her that my nurse not only knew but TOLD me to do it, the woman just shook her head and said, "Okay, good luck."

I was so glad to have Nicole, my parents, and Trevor's parents in town to help me with the kids.  I was able to take a nap (if you count four hours as a nap) on Friday and another nap on Saturday.  Lovely!  Trevor stayed home with me on Friday just to make sure everything was okay.  Either that or he wanted to nap, too, so he could stay up for the UK basketball game Friday night.  Other than fatigue, I have been feeling pretty good and slathering my sweet scar with vitamin E oil as often as I can.

On Monday, I had my first appointment with my endocrinologist, Dr. Wendell Miers.  (He is really cool, by the way.)  He was able to get into the CBH computer and see my biopsy results from Thursday.  Drum roll, please...

There was NO cancer in the second lobe that was removed.  Not only was there that amazing news, but I also don't have to do the radioactive iodine treatment.  Dr. Miers started me on Synthroid to regulate the level of thyroid hormone in my body, and I will continue to do checkups with him every three months, then every six, and eventually once a year.

I knew in my heart that everything was going to be okay, but hearing the news for sure was a huge relief.  All I wanted to do was go home and sleep for twelve hours because I felt completely weightless for the first time in a long time.  I didn't get to do that, of course, but last night's sleep was one of the best I have had in a long, long, long time.

I truly appreciate all of the thoughts, prayers, and kind words that you have all sent my way.  I know that every bit of love has helped me and my family get through this rough, insane, and emotional time.  Thank you all!

Now that I am cancer-free, I can get to the business of packing up the house.  But that's a whole other blog...

My Rocky Mountain High

I was lucky enough to travel to Colorado recently to visit my BFF, Tiffany.  The travel itself was exhausting and crazy, as it always is, but it was worth every second.

I was supposed to fly from Lexington to Dallas then Dallas to Denver on Thursday night.  I arrived at the airport in Lexington with plenty of time to check in and get through security.  Turns out I was really super-early as there was terrible weather in Dallas, and I wasn't able to leave Thursday night at all.  I went home, slept for a few hours, and arrived back at the airport on Friday at 4:30 AM.  After hours and hours of traveling, I arrived in Denver around 9:00 AM.  Tiffany was there waiting to whisk me away to Fort Collins.

I spent Friday morning hanging out with Tiffany at her amazing house with the beautiful view of the mountains.  Tiffany's decorating is the perfect combination of eclectic, funky, vintage, and comfortable.  Simply put, it's stunning.  We spent Friday afternoon walking around Old Town, and then I got to see my other fantastic friend, Mike.  Tiffany, Mike, and I were all friends at Butler University, and we have remained friends ever since.  The three of us got lots of treats from Whole Foods and cracked up the rest of the night.  There was even a genuine spit-take from Mike.  Classic.

How gorgeous is this guest room in Tiffany's house?  

Saturday morning, Tiffany and I drove up to Estes Park.  We had huge plans to stay at the Stanley Hotel; the Stanley is what inspired Steven King to write _The Shining._   We were even going to stay in the room where he stayed: room 217.  We were on the road, about five minutes from the hotel, when Tif's phone rang.  Someone from the Stanley was calling to say that a pipe had burst and we couldn't use the room.  Now, if you know Tiffany, you know she rarely gets mad.  This was one of the times I could feel the rage coming off her in waves.  The woman from the Stanley ended up giving us another room for free and threw in breakfast as well.  We were disappointed, but really, we just wanted the bragging rights of staying in room 217.  We decided to make the best of a free room, and we went on our way.

After checking in, we went to our lovely room with this view:

Incredible!  The day before, I was in Kentucky: now I got to look at the Rocky Mountains!  The only problem with the room was that it was 81 degrees, and the Stanley doesn't have air-conditioning.  We turned off the heat, opened the windows, and prayed it would cool off before bedtime.  We had a bite to eat (and maybe a drink) in the hotel restaurant before our ghost tour.  Spooooky!  Our tour guide, Teri, was very sweet and knowledgable about the history of the Stanley hotel.  It was really fascinating to hear how it all was started and what has happened on the grounds.  Tif and I, as usual, cracked each other up during the tour, but we were also respectful of Teri and the rest of the group.  I did ask Teri if she knew about the "burst pipe" in room 217, and she didn't know anything about it.  There was some sort of paranormal conference that weekend with famous paranormal experts.  Tif and I think that someone else offered to pay out the nose for room 217, hence the burst pipe story.

This is my "Will there be ghosts in our room tonight?" face

After the ghost tour, we hung out in the room for a while and watched _The Shining_ which plays on a continuous loop on the hotel's TV system.  We had another quick bite in the restaurant, then headed out for ghost stories by the campfire.  We assumed that this would take place outside because that's where campfires are, right?   We even stopped by the gift shop and bought matching furry hats because it was chilly up in the mountains at night.  The sign even said that blankets would be provided, and we were ready for some marshmallows and specters.  We bundled up and wandered the grounds looking for the fire.  We finally found it...in a fireplace.  The ghost stories were INSIDE.  We laughed and took a seat, but after about fifteen minutes, we had to flee.  It was about 85 degrees in that room, and we just couldn't take it anymore.  Then we thought we would treat ourselves to dessert from room service, but every time we called the room service number, we got the restaurant's voicemail.  Sigh.  In addition, the room had only cooled down to a balmy 74 degrees or so.  We reluctantly closed the curtains for the night so we wouldn't wake up with the sun, turned off the tv, and went to bed.  (This is an important detail.)

A trick of the light or purple orbs at the end of the hall?  

The next morning, we woke up a little late due to the time change.  Darn you, Daylight Savings!  We went to the restaurant and ordered about five things on the menu because, you know, it was free!  During breakfast, I thought to ask Tiffany if she had closed the doors to the TV armoire sometime in the night.  She hadn't. As I hadn't either, we wondered how the doors closed.  After breakfast, we went back to our room and experimented with the armoire doors.  It would have taken a fair bit of force to get those doors shut; we knew it wasn't the wind because we had closed the curtains in the night and no breeze had gotten through.  Did a friendly visitor shut the doors for us?  Maybe.  There have been numerous reports of strange happenings in room 413, so perhaps we didn't need room 217 after all.

Ghosts!  Specters!  Haints!  We're scared!  (But we're also adorbs in our matching hats.)

We left Estes Park Sunday morning and did a bit of shopping in Boulder.  We also met Mike again for dinner at the Happy Sumo, and the sushi was incredible.  We picked up Tiffany's daughter in Thornton where she had spent an exciting weekend with her grandparents, and we were off again to Fort Collins.  We stayed up as late as we could Sunday night to squeeze in every last minute we could together.  Sadly, I realized that I'm not twenty anymore, and I didn't make it too late before I had to go to bed.  I blame the altitude for my exhaustion because it certainly can't be that I'm getting older.

My trip was over way too soon.  Tiffany and Frankie took me to the airport Monday morning.  It took no time to get through security, and I meandered through the airport for a while, sniffing back tears because I already missed my friends.  My flight boarded, and then we were stuck on the tarmac for a while because there was bad weather in Chicago.  We finally arrived in the Windy City, and I had an almost three hour layover.  After three gate changes, I finally got on a plane to Lexington and arrived home around 10:00 PM.

The visit was way too short, but it was fantastic.  It was just what I needed before I start the insanity of the next few months.  There's nothing like good friends to make a girl feel better about anything that may be worrying her.  Thanks, Tiffany and Mike, for showing me such an amazing time.  Love you guys!  And thanks to Trevor for taking such good care of the kids while I was gone.  You're a good man, T.

The Blight

Last Friday afternoon, I got a phone call from Amy, my surgeon's assistant, with the results of the biopsy.  The conversation only lasted a few minutes, and I really only heard one word: cancer.

I spent the rest of that afternoon in a sort of fugue state.  My mind sort of went all blank and fuzzy; it wasn't entirely unpleasant, to tell you the truth.  Amy had assured me that the doctor got all of the cancer when he removed the left lobe of the thyroid and that I shouldn't worry.  Uh huh.  Thanks, Amy.  I had so many questions, but I knew I had to wait until my follow-up appointment on Thursday to get answers from my doctor.  I didn't think about it too much the rest of the weekend because we were busy and I didn't see the point in worrying.  After all, the cancer was gone, and considering I didn't find out about it until after the fact, there was no point in getting all worked up about it.

That worked pretty well until today.  My surgeon called this afternoon, and as soon as I heard him identify himself, I knew something was up.  My appointment with him was in less than 48 hours: why call me now?  He said that the pathology report showed signs of capsular invasion, and he said the other lobe of my thyroid needs to come out.  Soon.  The good news is that there is no sign of the cancer in my lymph nodes, so hopefully the removal of the rest of the thyroid will make certain that never happens.

The woozy feeling returned; again, it wasn't a bad feeling.  There may have been a teeny bit of denial thrown in for good measure.  As I made the kids dinner, I thought, "Huh.  I have cancer."  Although I know it's real, it doesn't seem real quite yet.  In fact, it seems downright surreal that in a couple of weeks, I'll go back to the same hospital to have the same incision opened and wake up in the same recovery room.  As much as I don't want to go through it all again, I know that I don't have a choice.  I need to get this out of my body and start healing.

The doctor wanted to do the surgery next week, but he agreed to wait two weeks so I could go on a planned trip out of town.  I made sure that waiting won't jeopardize my health in any way, and I'll reconfirm that on Thursday.  I need this trip, though.  I'm going to visit my BFF in Colorado for a few days of fun, visiting with friends, Chinese food, trashy TV, shopping, more Chinese food, a stay at the famed Stanley Hotel, and a lot of laughing.

The Stanley Hotel where Stephen King got the inspiration to write _The Shining_.  Squeeeee!!!

I'm really not too freaked out, all in all.  I have faith that everything is going to turn out just fine.  And I can't let this consume me, my family, and my life.  Plus, my badass scar will be even more badass the second time around.  I didn't think I could get much cooler than I already am, but apparently, I can.  And I will.