Saturday Night Fever

I’m in the middle of trying to decide how best to implement some changes to our site. Our greatest hope is that the near future brings us to the situation where we no longer have to blog on a daily basis about life with cancer. Although it will always be a way for us to raise awareness, support and encourage our fellow cancer families, I’m hoping that it’ll become less about Peyton and her cancer needs…because she won’t have them…and more about our family and day to day life. How does that differ much from now?

I really have no idea.

But I am a furniture mover. I get bored with things and have to reorganize on a regular basis. In fact, our living room had been in the same formation for so long that I actually moved everything in our living room, including our enormous entertainment stand with the tv still in it. It took me 45 minutes of shoving and grunting to get it from one end of the room to the other…only to realize that there was no cable long enough to get the tv hookup TO the tv, but that’s a whole other issue. I just have to move things around occasionally to get a different perspective on things. It makes things look newer and shinier again to mix it up a little.

That’s what I’m thinking about doing with the site. I’m considering giving it a bit of a face lift and changing a few things and we’ll probably start putting some ads on it to see if we can make a go of it as a profitable thing. I can’t tell you how many wonderful people have complimented me by telling me that I should write a book. I’d love to, but I also feel that I AM writing my book, just one post at a time and you get to read it for free!

I’ve been reading and considering these professional bloggers who do what I do, just share their lives online and let it all hang out there, and they are able to convert that into a money making venture by taking advertising. We are talking 6-figure executives that are able to walk away from their day jobs and support their families based on their blog income. Ok, WHAT am I not doing right here?

I’m sort of torn about turning my daughter’s cancer website into a job, but in a way, that is what it is already. I spend a lot of time writing and thinking about what to post, sometimes it comes easily, sometimes it feels like I’m cutting a vein and bleeding emotionally all over the keyboard. This thing started out as a way to share what was happening with our lives and Peyton’s journey through cancer, but we didn’t like CaringBridge for what we wanted to do. It has changed directions and taken me places I never dreamed it would. I truly love the moment that I know I’m going to sit at my computer and start sharing whatever news or insight is going to come tumbling out. We have felt such a sense of community come from the site, we’ve been blessed by the support and love of so many.

I’m not entirely sure how this is going to play out, it could happen quickly or Peter and I could tumble it around mentally for a while yet…because that’s how we roll. But if I can keep doing what I’m doing and be able to add to the household income, how is that a bad thing? Hmmm, stay tuned for more on that.

I’m also trying out some new technology! I found Twitter.com. I picked it up from some other blogs that I read and enjoy and have found it to be entirely crack-me-up goodness. I’m now able to receive little bite-sized snatches of entertainment throughout the day from anyone who “twitters”…meaning they send out brief little message whenever the urges occurs. This means that I can get great little laughs when I least expect it, which is always a good thing. You can receive twitter messages via the web or your phone if you do text messaging. Better yet, you can sign up and send messages to all your friends too! I’m going to try it out and if anyone is interested in following my attempts at Twitter, you can check it out at this link and you'll be notified whenever I send out a random message…and I do mean RANDOM, don’t expect nuggets of wisdom or anything, it might be “Sale at Big Lots!” Who knows?

Now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Peter made it safely home Friday night by bedtime to much rejoicing. He had to work as soon as he set foot in the house, but it was good to be able to look at him while he ignored me. We did some projects around the house today, which the kids just loved! Hey, guys, dad’s home and now you become indentured slaves…and you thought we had you just because we liked kids. Sillypants!

Pete says to the kids, “Alright! It’s time to clean up because DAD IS HOME.” From a 36 year old man who walked in the door with a hamper full of dirty laundry and asked what’s for dinner….at 10 PM.

I looked at him and said, “The irony is just killing me, you know that, right?”

But we did get a lot accomplished and still managed to just sit around and have good fun lazy time too.

I have to share with you that one of my big concerns of Pete moving to Alabama was that he would get up there and never wake up. I had visions of him being fired in the first two weeks for showing up at work at noon ever day. That’s why I bought him the cool rolling alarm that hides itself while beeping madly if you dare snooze it. But he tells me today that he got himself a new alarm clock because the annoying-as-crap one wasn’t cutting it for him.

This is apparently his new morning routine.

7:00 AM – his cell phone alarm starts going off, a nice soothing ding-ding-dong that never stops because he makes sure to leave it in the kitchen where it’ll wake up everyone in the apartment complex, but barely rouses him to a coma-level consciousness.

7:20 AM – he finally realizes that the ding-ding-dong is not a part of his dream and he acknowledges that he should probably try to move from his drool-laden pillowey haven.

7:30 AM – the new alarm clock goes off. From his description, the new alarm clock all but walks across the room, rips the covers off him and shoves bricks of ice down his underpants.

He probably bought it because it reminds him of me.

I realized that if we could recreate the YUCKY.SKIN.SCREAM in an alarm clock, we could probably ensure that billions of workers were never late again.

All in all, Peyton’s suffering through this round of steroids better than I’d thought, but we’re not quite done yet and it’s traditionally the days following the last dose that everything gets “Girl, Interrupted” around our house. She had a great time at her grandma’s and got really grumped out that she had to return to the hellhole known as HOME. To be left with THEM. THOSE PEOPLE. The ones who talk to her and expect her to do things for herself and won’t sit and play Ants in the Pants with her for hours on end. But once she got past that she was thrilled to see her daddy and perked up pretty good. She’s definitely not running on all 4 cylinders, she’s tired and I can see that her color’s off and she has some definite circles under her eyes. She’s also starting to eat like a maniac, finishing off 4 scrambled eggs this morning and before I got done cleaning the pan she was at my side asking for more. Her little belly is tight as a drum and there’s some swelling in her face from the steroids. I don’t know why the Methotrexate she gets spinally seems to hit her so much harder than the doses she takes orally every week, but it does. But she was still able to find her silly mode and enjoy a bath with mom and some tickle time on the couch.

I hope you all have a wonderful Father’s Day tomorrow. I am ever thankful for Peter and the amazing dad he is to our kids. There is nothing more wonderful than realizing that God has blessed you with a soulmate that cherishes you and the family you’ve created together. Parenthood wasn’t something that Pete and I had anticipated when we first met, but it is a gift that we’ve always been thankful for. We plan to pamper daddy with lots of love and typical Mayhew craziness and remind him how much he is loved.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads.

We love you, Peter.
We love you, Dad (mine – Dale).
We love you, Dad (Pete’s – Bob).

I wish I’d written this, but Peter will appreciate how hard I had to hunt for this one thing from this ONE writer.

Here's to the Fathers…

Here's to the fathers, who always begin,

on the outside of children, but looking in.

Such curious men snapping cameras like mad,

recording the moment, they turn into "Dad."

Here's to the fathers, who put in their time,

who don't say to mother's 'that's your job, not mine'.

Who wipe chins and noses and never say "won't"

who do with the diapers, what some fathers don't.

Here's to the fathers who manage to stay


when so many fathers are turning away.

When so many run, leaving families to rot,

here, then, a cheer, for those who do not

Here's to the fathers whose big money dreams


die in the comer while their baby screams.

And yet without anger, dread or regrets,

they comfort the child, hold it close to their chests

And as the child grows, they grow with it too

learning a depth that they never knew.

And soon they are older, their hair slightly gone,

chasing two children around the front lawn

Or car-pooling teams to Little League games,

buying them hamburgers after it rains.

They mend broken dolls and fix broken wheels,

they cringe when their daughters, try their first pair of heels

They reach in their pockets, but never keep count,

they pay dear for parenthood awful amounts

They postpone their plans to sail across seas,

instead they sing "Barney" and bandage skinned knees

Here's to the fathers who get off the phone,

to hear their sons practice their new saxophone

Who leave work to see their daughter's recital

Here's to the heroes, who work without title

For this is a world now full of neglect,

with everyday stories of lives that are wrecked.

Of fatherless children who take up with guns

to kill other children of fatherless sons

Divorce shattered families, childhood's derailed,

mothers still waiting for checks still un-mailed

You wonder what wrongs these souls ever did

to make a grown man turn away from his kids

So here's to the fathers who won't compromise

who see a light shining in their children's eyes

And feel a rare glow as if from a gem

and know that once someone saw this glow in them

For all the good boys they have raised in the world

for all the examples they set for their girls

For all the loved children whose stories they'll tell

Here's to the father's that taught them so well

Happy Father's Day!
(Mitch Albom, 1996, The Detroit News)

f.r.o.G…fully relying on God
–Anissa