Happy on the Outside

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April 20, 2010

Tanner at the party

Somehow six days have slipped by again without a post. Let me catch you up: Tanner did get to go to her birthday party at Jump Zone – she had a blast and I wasn’t the only Mom handing out the hand sanitizer. The Dalmatian passed the child-worthy test with flying colors and now we’re trying to work out going to the prison to visit him. If all goes well, we’ll put dibs on him and wait until he finishes training in June! Tanner is feeling well, although she seems a little tired and has had some headaches. John and I got to go on a date on Sunday night for the first time in months. We went to see a movie at the Nashville Film Festival produced by our next-door neighbor. Went to church on Sunday (Jake entertained the church during the children’s sermon by showing another child the inside of his nose…) and then had lunch at the home of some good friends. It was a great day.

Tanner dancing after the party... love the shoes

We got a package from Give Kids the World Village today. That’s the resort for wish kids at Disney where we will be staying. It was so exciting to see all that we will be doing. We get three Disney passes, two Universal theme park passes and one Sea World pass. Not to mention how awesome the Village is itself – putt-putt, horseback riding, a train ride, present fairies, ice cream all day, La Ti Da spa, etc., etc., etc. All the characters from Disney, Universal and Nickelodeon come to the Village to visit with the kids. If Jake sees spider man in real life, he may pass out. If only iCarly would show up… Tanner would need nothing else. I’m hoping this trip will suspend reality for us for a while. We could all use a break from that.

So life is good… why is my child so mad? Tanner is struggling with something that is resulting in massive temper tantrums. Her therapist thinks it is anxiety from the newness of school. That sometimes even really good things can be overwhelming. I think Tanner also tends to push until she is more than exhausted, which doesn’t help. Suffice it to say, I’ve received the brunt of Tanner’s anger and it’s exhausting for all of us. Poor Jake doesn’t understand what he has done wrong to make his sister suddenly turn on him. It’s frustrating to finally be at this good place and see her struggle so mightily with something. It’s like the emotion is too much for her, even though the emotion is happiness. Please pray that I keep my patience and that Tanner finds some peace and is able to fully enjoy this time.

It’s tough to know how to slow Tanner down… how to know when she’s had enough, even if she doesn’t think so. She called today from school with a tummy ache. When I got there with medicine, she was lying down on a bean bag chair while the rest of the class sat at their desks. She looked pretty miserable and I just decided maybe she should come home. She didn’t want to, but I felt the rest might be the best idea. She didn’t stay down long when we got home. After picking up Jake, she wanted to go for a walk. I took the wagon so she didn’t get tired, but on the way home, it looked like we had done too much. Then, the meltdown came over something small and stupid (isn’t that how they always happen?). And, she ended up losing some pretty fun stuff because she couldn’t get hold of herself. It’s just a no-win for everyone and I wish I had a rule book to follow. You know, the rule book for kids who have cancer and who have just returned to school and seem happy, but keep having meltdowns. Anybody seen that one at the book store? Online? Guess I’ll have an extra call with Allison. Sigh.

Thursday is her monthly clinic day. Vincristine through her port and the start of another five-day pulse of steroids (that ought to help the meltdowns, eh?). I’m hoping that if the docs want to raise her chemo they’ll let us wait until after Disney. It would be a huge disappointment to have to postpone the trip due to low counts. I’ve tried not to be specific with the kids about when we’re going just in case.

Hoping for a tantrum-free tomorrow…

Love,
Beth

What is normal, anyway?

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April 14, 2010

This may have been the longest I’ve gone without posting since Tanner has been diagnosed… 6 days. It’s weird, but things are so normal I feel like don’t really have much to say. Tanner feels really good and looks really good and, mostly, seems like every other kid.

Then, there are moments when I see our life from an objective viewpoint and it hits me that none of this is really normal… it’s just what we’re used to.

For example, last Thursday night, John was preparing Tanner’s nighttime meds and said, “Good grief, am I right with all this she is taking?” He was staring at our medication spreadsheet, taped to the inside of entire double-wide kitchen cabinet dedicated to medicine, mostly Tanner’s. I usually update the spreadsheet about every 2 weeks, after clinic, to be sure we’re current on everything she takes (really, it’s that confusing), but I’ve been kind of slacking lately with the move and all, and he wasn’t sure what he was seeing was correct. I assured him it was. Thursday night sucks. She takes ½ 6MP pill (daily oral chemo), 5 methotrexate pills (weekly oral chemo), 2 neurontin capsules (for neurapathy due to the Vincristine), mepron (a daily antibiotic that prevents a dangerous type of pneumonia), omnicef (antibiotic for the urinary tract infection), claritin (for allergies), pepsid (for the stomach problems that all these meds cause), and zofran (anti-nausea med to prevent the nausea that the methotrexate usually causes overnight). As you can see, nothing normal about a 6-year-old taking all this, and that’s just her nighttime meds.

Today, I spent hours on the unfortunate task of trying to untangle the last month’s medical bills. All of our deductibles have rolled over, so I’m forced to pay close attention to the bills again to be sure we are paying the correct amount. It’s a nightmare matching up the EOB’s from the insurance company and the bills from doctors and the hospital. In the stack, I came across an old bill that had not yet been filed. It was from one clinic day back in the early November – the dreaded first day of the second half of delayed intensification. We stayed at the hospital from 8 am to 6 pm that day, getting every kind of chemo but the kitchen sink. The bill was a testament to the fortitude of my child, to her desire to thrive and survive. Three pages of chemo, listed on line after line. It reminded me how much Tanner’s body has already endured and worried me about how it will effect her long-term.

Tanner came home yesterday SO excited about a birthday party invitation from a little girl in her class. It is at Jump Zone; and we have not allowed Tanner to go there since diagnosis. She was so hopeful, but also was aware that she might not be able to go. I could see on her face how important it was to her… how desperately she wanted, needed to feel normal… to just go to a birthday party like the other kids. I told her I would have to talk to John that night, as he is out of town. That night, we decided that she could go as long as I stayed and applied some hand sanitizer every once in a while. Tanner was thrilled and accepted our stipulation. She was so funny, though. She said, “Dad’s not coming though, right? Just you? Cause Dad will be so crazy with the hand sanitizer.” I laughed and laughed. She’s exactly right. It will be much less embarrassing if germ-a-phobe Dad stays home (love you honey!). So, we’re so happy she’ll be able to go, but there’s nothing totally normal about your Mom lurking in the shadows with hand sanitizer.

So, it’s not really normal, but it’s cancer normal. And, for cancer world, she’s probably about as normal as possible right now. We’re planning for summer camps and our trip to Disney and the Spring Fling at school. We’re grateful and it’s a relief to not feel like we’re in crisis mode, even if it always seems one fever away. I see things ahead that don’t involve hospitals and isolation, but are just normal things that kids and families do. It’s not normal by most people’s standards, but we’ll take it.

We received some awesome news this week… we can get another dog!!! Yay!!! I don’t know who is more excited, me or the kids. We’ve picked out a dalmatian mix from McMuttigan’s rescue in Kentucky. The trainers are child-testing the dog this week and will let us know if they believe he will be a good candidate for us. He is in a three-month training program in a Kentucky prison and will be trained especially for us, by prisoners, by the time we get him in June. We will also know he has been thoroughly vetted over the past three months, so he should be safe for Tanner. So, cross your fingers that he is bomb-proof; we already feel attached to him. If you’re in the market for a dog, consider this program… it’s such a win-win for everyone. The last time we almost got a dog from this program, the prisoners were pouring extra love into the dog we had picked out so their “little angel” would get the best dog possible. Blessings come from the most unusual sources sometimes.

Sorry for the long post… guess I had something to say after all!

Good night,
Beth

Clinic Day #31 — Or, How to Have Fun at Clinic

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April 8, 2010

So, here’s how you have fun at the Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital Oncology Clinic:

1) Have counts high enough to still go to school, but not high enough to raise your chemo level (her neutraphils were at 1,100, down 200 from 2 weeks ago, so she’ll stay at 75% for now)

2) Make friends with the music therapist who is holding a music session in the infusion room. Get her to play your favorite Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift songs on the guitar so you can have a solo that makes everyone in the room clap. Tell her some other songs you like so you can plan to sing again next time.

3) Participate in a study that helps other people and get money from the doctor so you can buy ice cream downstairs.

4) Discover they are having a “medical play” clinic downstairs in the lobby and color your own “patient” doll which you can then give shots, access her port, set up an IV drip and generally use all your medical knowledge you have gained in your more than 50 visits to the hospital.

5) Get to see Dr. Mixan and Nurse Cari – our favorites

It was, hands down, the most fun we have had at Clinic. It is a testament to Vanderbilt Children’s that it is possible for a place that holds so much sorrow for so many is also the place that holds so much hope and light. We are forever grateful to have this community treasure so close by.

We’ve been on Spring Break all week and having a great time! We’ve been swimming twice, eaten out some, played in the yard and in the cul-de-sac a bunch, had playdates and now, E. (John’s Mom) is here! Tomorrow, we are hosting our church playgroup at our house and having a visit with Allison, the play therapist, in the afternoon. We’re hoping to get to the zoo this weekend to round out our super fun week.

Got some really fun news recently that Tanner is going to be one of the faces of this year’s local Light the Night, which is the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s big fundraiser. Tanner’s picture and story are on the invitation being sent to corporations to invite them to a kickoff breakfast. She is also going to be featured in the Country Faces Cancer campaign where country celebrities, like Blake Shelton and Nan Kelley, host walk teams for Light the Night. Tanner will have her picture taken with all the celebs who sign on and be in the TV public service announcements. She will LOVE this! My girl loves her some attention and loves anything to do with music.

So, we’re hanging and enjoying the week off. With her counts down to 1,100, we might rein ourselves in a bit to try to protect her, but overall, the doctor feels good about where she is. During maintenance, the goal is for her counts to be between 1,000 and 1,500, so she is right where she should be, although I’d always prefer to be on the high side, rather than the low.

Hope you’ve been enjoying the beautiful weather, like we have.

Love,
Beth

New Beginnings

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April 4, 2010

So, Tanner did have a urinary tract infection. Mercifully, we didn’t have to go to the ER. The oxycodone held her over until morning and we were able to drop by the pediatrician instead. She is on a course of antibiotics and feels fine now. But first, we went to the Easter Egg hunt at our church. It was really fun and the kids had a great time.

Ready to hunt some eggs

Then, I ran away, as promised. I didn’t actually go to a movie, but I did shop (okay, for the kids, but it was still shopping). The important thing was that I was gone for hours and came back feeling much, much better. We grilled up some dinner and ate outside (it was such a beautiful day) then, dyed Easter eggs and wrote notes to leave for the Bunny. Tanner finally went to bed on time. The terror seems to have subsided and she got a good night’s sleep. And, I got to sleep in my own bed.

This morning, Tanner was up at 6:20 rearing to go to hunt those eggs. We woke Jake and they had a big egg hunt and ate chocolate for breakfast. It’s not Easter unless we’re all eating Peeps and Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs before 7 am.

Then, drumroll please… we went to church… for the first time in 10 months. It was wonderful. The service was beautiful and Tanner was so cute singing along with the music. Jake made sure to let the entire congregation know (more than once) that he got a Batman and Mr. Freeze in his Easter basket. We went to breakfast at Cracker Barrel on the way home, so it was a really nice morning.

In their Easter Finery

We spent almost the entire rest of the day outside. We played with neighbor kids and did some yard work and just, generally, enjoyed the beautiful weather.

So, I feel renewed and ready to face a week of spring break. We’ll make the most of it. We have plans to swim, have play dates and maybe, just maybe, go to the zoo (although that may be too crowded to venture forth).

Happy Easter!

Love,
Beth

Compassion Fatigue

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April 2, 2010

This is a risky post. It will not win me any motherhood awards, and it will likely make a few people cringe. But, I try to speak the truth here, when I can own up to it, and to paint a realistic picture of what this journey is like for us and for the countless other families who endure the pain of caring for a sick child, or even a sick adult.

I like to call it “compassion fatigue.” It’s my term for when I have been sucked dry of all empathy and I can no longer see Tanner’s suffering as anything other than an annoyance to me. I’m there right now. It’s 10 pm and for the second night in a row, Tanner is still awake and I am bunking in her room. She is terrified thinking about a TV show she saw five minutes of the other day before we realized it was scary and changed it. She has come out of her room no less than 20 times since we put her in bed at 7:30. We had a day full of activity and I know she must be exhausted. And, I know with my brain that she must truly be too scared to care about consequences because she has opted to endure several of them in order to continue coming out of her room and to avoid sleep.

She also, I believe, has a urinary tract infection for which we will have to go to the doctor in the morning to have a urine sample analyzed, if we’re lucky. If we’re not lucky, we will end up in the ER sometime tonight. I’ve had a urinary tract infection and I know how it hurts, so in my brain, I know she is uncomfortable, although we have given her a healthy dose of oxycodone.

I also know in my brain that she didn’t mean to skin both knees today and have to be carried 3 blocks home, and that she didn’t mean to tucker out on the hike we took this morning and have to be piggy-backed a good ¼ mile or more back to the car. I know in my brain that she didn’t know that popcorn would burn her mouth when she asked me to make it after asking for and receiving two cartons of macaroni and cheese and three glasses of milk. She didn’t know we would have to throw it away and I would have to interrupt my dinner for the 10th time and get her goldfish instead.

In my brain, I know all these things and I know I should be sympathetic. But, unfortunately, your brain doles out knowledge but your soul doles out sympathy and understanding, and my soul is all shut down today. I have compassion fatigue… nothing left to give. All I can hear right now is “I want…,” “I need…,” “Get me…” “When will you…” The part of me that cares about the child behind these requests stopped functioning sometime around 1 pm today when Tanner interrupted the 15 minutes I tried to claim to myself eating lunch on my bed with the TV on. She needed miralax because she felt constipated. A realistic request, but so ill-timed.

I know she is only six years old and that she doesn’t understand when she’s asked for too much, but she has. I’m just filling requests like a begrudging robot at this point.

My husband wonders why I stay up so late after everyone is gone to bed. It’s not that I don’t need the sleep. I fall asleep sitting up almost every day while I’m putting Jake down for a nap. I stay up after everyone goes to bed because I know, if I am lucky, that there is a good chance that for hours, no one will ask me for anything. That I can do exactly what I want to do, uninterrupted. And, it’s worth whatever sleep I lose doing it, because it preserves my sanity and allows me to wake up the next morning and fill requests all day without feeling resentful about it. I have a feeling a lot of Mom’s do this.

But, I think that having a child with cancer adds a layer to Momdom that complicates things. That makes your need for a compassion recharge that much greater. And, I’m fresh out.

It’s an ugly thing to talk about and definitely not one of my finer moments, but it’s where I am. Tomorrow, after the visit to the pediatricians, and possibly the Vandy ER, after the Easter Egg hunt at church, I will run away. I will go to the movies with a girlfriend, or even just by myself. And my wonderful husband will recognize my need for this recharge and send me off with the reassurance that I should stay gone as long as I like.

And, when and if I do come back (lol), I will do more than just go through the motions. I’ll add a kiss and a hug to the bandaid and Neosporin routine. And, I will actually mean it.

Love,
Beth

Heavy

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March 29, 2010

It’s steroid week… always a blast. Tanner is handling it really well, but it just stinks and that’s all there is to it. She is also feeling the effects of her monthly dose of Vincristine. She is having a hard time with her mouth burning every time she eats or drinks anything. I think this is a precursor to mouth sores, but Tanner usually doesn’t actually get the sores and the feeling passes in a few days. This time, however, it’s lasting longer so we’re loading up on the glutamine to try to prevent them from turning into sores. It’s particularly frustrating to her considering the steroids make her really hungry – talk about a catch 22.

She’s actually been pretty active this weekend, though. The good weather, combined with the lure of the kids playing in our cul-de-sac, outweighed the steroid apathy many times this weekend. We flew kites, played baseball, rode bikes and jumped rope. She even made it to school for a couple of hours today and to the play therapist’s for a much-needed anxiety download.

I’ve been a little burdened the last couple of days. The little girl I’ve been writing about, Samantha Abbott, died yesterday morning. She was 7 and such a cute little girl. She was in tremendous pain in the last weeks of her life and her organs finally shut down and gave up. Too much for a child to have to bear and for her parents to have to come to grips with. Just unfathomable.

In addition, I heard through the childhood cancer grapevine about another Vandy patient, a 14-year-old girl, who was just sent home with hospice care. She was given six months at the very best, but has since taken a turn for the worse and it will likely only be days instead of months.

These stories both sadden me and terrify me. They eat at the edges of my hope and deflate my confidence.

As John showed me the text message Sunday morning that Samantha had passed away, we just stared at each other for a moment, eyes wet. It was a three-second moment, but I knew exactly what he was thinking. Then, we choked it down wordlessly and moved on.

What else can you do?

Beth

Clinic Day #30… A Sigh of Relief

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March 23, 2010

Every parent of a child with leukemia lives and dies by blood counts. We wait, tensely, for counts to come back after blood draw. We search the doctor’s face for a sign that counts are good or bad. Will they mean freedom or isolation? Will they mean a blood transfusion? Will they show something worse, something unimaginable?

Today, Tanner’s counts were perfect… in leukemia world, that is. Her neutraphils (big infection fighting white cells) were at 1300 (they want her between 1000 and 1500). Her hemoglobin was 11.2, which means that, for the first time in a long time, Tanner is not anemic.

Dr. Mixan and I agreed that she is probably suffering from allergies, not a cold. So, with no further ado, she got her chemo and I took her to school for the rest of the afternoon. Then, she had a playdate with some friends at our house.

She’ll go to school again tomorrow in the early morning, but I’ll take her out for an hour or so to go see the play therapist. I asked Tanner if she thought she needed to go see Allison and she said, “Yes, Mom.” There have been a lot of adjustments lately with the house and starting school. They are good things, but they are new nevertheless, and probably a little overwhelming at times. A playdate with Ms. Allison is the best medicine for Tanner’s anxiety.

Please continue to pray for Samantha Abbott – the cutest little girl who just went through a bone marrow transplant and has battled kidney failure successfully only to come down with a very serious blood infection. The medication to cure this infection is very hard on the kidneys, so it has presented a dilemma for the doctors.

Every time I think we have it bad, there is always someone who has it worse.

Love,
Beth

A Field Trip to Aunt Beth’s

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March 24, 2010

Did you ever have someone’s house that you went to when you were a kid that seemed magical? My grandparents’ house was like that for me. They had three acres with a big vegetable garden, fruit trees and grape vines that stretched across the yard. I remember doing the simplest things there… like playing in the gravel in their driveway, or climbing up this big weeping willow that was in the median of the circular drive, or sitting on the swing in the dark with my granny, listening to grown-ups talk and the cicadas sing.

When I look back on it now, there was really not anything to do. They didn’t keep any toys at their house for us to play with, although sometimes we would borrow the neighbors’ bikes. The house was tiny and modest, with one bathroom that all seven of us would share, and I slept on the floor every night, sharing a pallet made of old quilts with my two brothers and falling asleep to the drone of the television.

But, still, something seemed so magical about being there. Food tasted better, the simplest things were more fun. I think it was just so different from where I grew up, in the suburbs of Philadelphia. My grandparents lived in the country in Huntsville, AL, on a road named after them because theirs was the first house built there.

My kids have that at their grandparents’ houses, too. The magical basement at Grandmom and Grandad’s house where you can hit a golf ball into a net or “work out” on the exercise bike, or ride a scooter. And, the great cul-de-sac at E. and Papa’s where they ride the battery-powered cars she keeps for them, sled for days, and play with their cousin, Mack.

Digging in Aunt Beth's garden

But, as a bonus, they have Aunt Beth’s house. On an acre-and-a-half in Spring Hill, Aunt Beth dabbles in lots of things that I don’t… namely gardening and cooking. Today, the kids dug holes in the dirt, spread four-o-clock seeds under the weeping willow, fed the geese in the pond, “worked out” in the basement and cooked up some pretty darn good pizza roll-ups.

Being able to spend the morning at Aunt Beth’s took a little bit of the sting out of not being able to go to school for Tanner. She came home tired and napped while Jake napped.

Tanner manning her rock store at Aunt Beth's house

Overall, Tanner doesn’t actually seem to feel bad, although she is stuffed up. I really believe she has allergies, but without knowing for sure or having any idea where he counts stand, keeping her home again today was probably the right decision. We’re off to the clinic tomorrow after dropping Jake off and we’ll find out for sure where she stands. She’ll also get her monthly IV dose of Vincristine, begin her five-day course of steroids. Tomorrow night, she will also take her weekly dose of oral methotrexate, which can kind of wipe her out the next day. So, even if her counts are high enough to return to school Friday, I don’t know how long she’ll last. Monday and Tuesday will also be pretty doubtful as she is usually pretty wiped out by the steroids.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this rollercoaster. I might numb myself to it, but then I find I’m numb to all the good stuff, too. For right now though, that’s how I’m sleepwalking through this current disappointment… numb and in a fog.

I’m hoping to wake up tomorrow.

Love,
Beth

Stumbling Blocks

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March 23, 2010

Tanner woke up on Sunday morning with a cold or allergies, hard to tell which. She sneezed all day and was stuffy. Monday morning she seemed no better so we kept her home from school and gave Claritin a try. She didn’t sneeze as much and, aside from a little tired patch in the afternoon, seemed fine. This morning, still stuffy and we sent her to school. They called me by noon to pick her up. Her teacher said she didn’t have her normal energy level and that she asked to go home during recess.

She actually didn’t seem that wiped out this afternoon. She was actually really frustrated that I wouldn’t let her have a playdate. I kind of think she may have allergies, but who’s to know and wouldn’t it be a stupid mistake to send her into the germ fest that school is when her immune system in compromised. Truth is, we don’t know what her counts are. They increased her chemo two weeks ago and that alone could be affecting her counts. Also, you never know what a cold could do to her. We’ve seen infections and viruses make her counts go sky high and we’ve seen them wipe them out. So, difficult to make any kind of educated guess about the right thing to do without a true counts check.

We go in for our monthly clinic visit on Thursday so we’ll keep her out of school until then to be safe. If her counts are good, she can go to school Friday, but she’ll start steroids Thursday morning, so who knows whether she’ll feel like going.

It’s so hard to make a good call in this situation. Inevitably, you go with the choice that keeps her from ending up dying from some cold gone bad, even if it means you feel like you’re slaying her psyche in the process. Seriously, this is the way we think. She senses my lack of conviction in the decision to keep her at home and begs and wheedles for playdates, school or anything that gets her around kids. I don’t understand it, so I don’t know how she’s supposed to.

I feel like this is a blow I had prepared myself for and I don’t feel too surprised by it. Discouraged maybe, but not surprised. I hate that she’s having to stay home most of the week after such a small taste of freedom, but I’m also thankful she got to have last week at all. I’m more discouraged that, after the IgG transfusion, she still seems to have caught a respiratory virus. Hopefully, that’s not the case and it’s just some spring allergies.

Tanner’s handling the disappointment okay on the surface, but is still having some behavior issues which indicate all is not as well as she claims it to be. We have an appointment with the play therapist who, mercifully, came back from vacation. Hopefully, that will help.

On the agenda tomorrow… maybe a field trip to Aunt Beth’s.

Arggghhhhhh.

Love,
Beth

A Whole Week

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March 19, 2010

Tanner made it. A full week of school. It seems so surreal, but at the same time, so normal. Normal, normal, normal, normal… I love the sound of that word. I’ve kind of forgotten how to do normal. I had the opportunity to do cool things with Jake this week and couldn’t remember what to do. We did go to playgroup today for the first time in more than nine months. He got to play with a whole group of kids his own age… priceless.

Tanner’s teacher said she did great this week. She isn’t behind at all academically and she said she was astounded by Tanner’s stamina. When she gets tired, she lies down in a beanbag chair in the classroom for a rest, but has mostly seemed like any other energetic first grader. Many thanks to Mrs. Franklin for taking such good care of her this week and to Mrs. O’Hara for preparing her so well for returning to school. Because of her expert tutoring, Tanner has been able to keep up with her peers.

I’m so scared to really enjoy the moment, though. So afraid it won’t be long before she is disappointed again. Scared that the recent increase in chemo to 75% dosage might have tanked her counts and we’re sending her to school with no immune system. Scared Tanner is pushing herself too hard and will get fatigued and get sick. Scared, scared, scared. I hate living like that. It’s one of the not-so-great side effects of this journey.

Beth and I sat out on the deck today and ate lunch while watching the birds and the squirrels playing around the creek. So much nicer than looking at a fence. It’s peaceful here and that’s something I’m trying to remember to take time to enjoy.

Played in our old neighborhood today. Jake and I parked there and walked over to the school to pick Tanner up. We brought scooters and just stayed to play with our friends. It was good medicine for Tanner to see how easy it was to still play with Corinne. She has been so anxious about that.

More unpacking and curtain hanging on tap for the weekend. And rest for Tanner. Recover from this week and gear up for the next. I’m not so naïve as to think there won’t be bumps in the road, but I’m really hoping for a smooth ride for a little while. Tanner needs it.

Love,
Beth