Doing the Happy Dance

Scans came in today, and they are completely clear of progressing cancer!

The new spots in the right breast are seen but not metabolic, which indicates they are benign. The T9 vertebrae is healed as a result of the stereotactic radiation (which I am thrilled about but did not expect since it still hurts quite a bit). The rib lesion is still mildly active but much reduced in intensity from the last scan 5 weeks ago.

My liver is clear. Totally clear of anything abnormal at all. This is the most calming news of all, as the strange abdominal pressure and appetite changes I have been experiencing continue. But since two scans now have shown nothing unusual, I am ready to peacefully accept these symptoms are due to something else and are nothing to worry about. I really needed that peace of mind and am grateful to my doctor for ordering this extra scan for me so I could receive this great gift.

What a roller coaster of stress and emotion and worry this has all been these past few months. I am so, so happy for this reprieve and fully intend to enjoy these nine weeks until my next regularly scheduled scans (when I am sure to begin to worry all over again...because I am all too human).

Thanks for all your support and prayers during these past few months as I have dealt with my first real bump in the road since initial diagnosis. I am sure it will not be the last, but in the meantime I am going to appreciate every moment of this period of, as the radiologist so beautifully reported it, "decreasing disease".

Can Someone Explain How This Happened?

I woke up on Friday morning, May 20, to find a teenager in the bed my little boy used to sleep in.

This man-child is huge, with feet the size of scuba flippers, and--gulp--hairy legs! He is taller than me, and nearly as tall as his father. He has a smile the size of Texas with a heart even bigger than that. He is lean and muscular, hysterically funny and witty as all get out. He makes me laugh every day and continually delights me with his character, which I could not be prouder of.

I am so happy that this newly minted teenager still likes to hang out with me and his dad. He talks to us about all sorts of things and delights in telling us stories and dumb jokes. He wants us to see the things he thinks are funny and tell us about things that concern him. I hope and pray that he does not change in this regard.

He is a wonderful--though requisitely obnoxious and torturous--big brother to his six younger siblings, and sets a good example in honesty and integrity. He has chosen quality friends and is loyal and objective.

I can't believe that my little boy is officially a teenager. How did this happen? I blinked and he grew up. Now comes the fun part!

And Now for Some Good News

Yesterday we had Joey's tri-annual IEP review. Every three years the school evaluates the resource children to see how they are doing. They talk to all their teachers, test them to see if they need more or less services, and then make a recommendation to the parents.

Joey's review could not have been more positive. His teachers unilaterally called him hard working, intelligent and kind. All have seen progress this year in his physical writing skills (except spelling which remains atrocious). He is making As and Bs with no resource help whatsoever, so he has been moved to a "monitor" status, which means he is out of resource advisory and will check in with the resource teacher now only periodically or if he needs something.

We are so proud. Just a few years ago we were consumed with worry about our child who was not progressing in school. We would have done anything, paid anything, ransomed anything to hear the news we got yesterday. As a complete bonus, he has turned out to be quite the track star, solidly winning three sprints at his last meet. All this has combined to give him the confidence he was lacking for so long. We are literally watching him blossom and realize the potential we always knew he had.

Happy, happy, happy.

The Totally Backwards MRI

Well, the long-awaited MRI results came in today. They were...interesting.

As you may recall from my last post, I have a large mass that has recently developed in my left breast in same location as the original cancer. Even though it did not show up on my recent PET/CT, I was insistent that something was wrong, hence the MRI which is clearer imaging for the breast.

When the MRI was done, I showed the tech the mass and asked afterward that she check to be sure she saw it. She did see it and was able to show me on the screen the area that corresponded the the mass we could see and feel. I left happy in the knowledge that it had indeed been captured and would be properly analyzed.

So, the good news is that the mass is nothing to worry about (and I now believe this since two different imaging systems agree). The radiologist referred to it as likely post surgical changes (interesting, since I never had surgery) but classified it on the BI-RAD scale (1 being nothing seen at all and 5 being without a doubt malignant) as a Category 2, benign. I am now officially ready to put this to rest.

However.

There are two new suspicious lumps in the right breast. I cannot feel them, and they are still quite small, about 6 mm each. These fall on the BI-RAD scale at category 4B, which means "suspicious abnormality, biopsy recommended". I immediately got out my MRI from my original diagnosis and was a bit dismayed to learn that my original cancer was classified as a Category 4C.

Why am I concerned, you may ask, since I already know I have cancer and it has already spread through my body? Because breast cancer, as far as I understand, does not spread to the other breast. It spreads out of the breast into bones, lungs, liver and brain, but does not infiltrate the healthy breast. Therefore, if these lumps are indeed malignant, they will indicate a new primary cancer.

It would be strange for me to have a second primary since I didn't have any risk factors for the first one, but I have been on a trial drug for quite some time and have received more radiation than the average person, so who knows? I suppose anything is possible. A new primary could have the same biology or completely different biology as the first one. Sometimes, even different lumps in the same breast have different pathologies. That means, if these new lumps are malignant and are not HER2 positive, they would not respond at all to the drug I am currently on. However, since these are still so small, I suspect they can likely be easily dealt with through a lumpectomy. But what do I know.

I am going to wait until I see the NP on Thursday before I get too excited about all of this, but it is definitely a setback for me mentally. There is a decent chance it may not be malignant at all. My doctor may not even recommend a biopsy at this point, preferring to wait for the next PET (in fact, I am guessing that will be his strategy). But at the end of the day, it is another thing to worry about, more tests on the horizon, more waiting and more anxiety. I would be lying if I said this was all easy to take.

Nonetheless, I am choosing to focus for now on the fact that the big mass seems to be nothing to worry about. Let's take our victories where we find them, shall we?

Now, I believe I have some children to tend to!

A Very Belated Health Update

My apologies for being silent for so long...while there has been no shortage of things going on over here, I have experienced a blog-deadly combination of intense fatigue and intermittent internet problems. But I am here and all is well!

For those of you who want a detailed update on my condition, read on. For those who don't, you can stop right here secure in the knowledge that I am still alive and kicking, and happily so.

I completed two weeks of daily radiation to my rib last week, as well as a single high-dose zap to my spine. I stayed with a friend in Glendale during my treatment so I wouldn't have to drive back and forth, and that was a nice break for me. I took the two little girls with me as I could not bear to leave them. This made for a heavier load on my friend who watched them while I was treated, but eased my conscience greatly about leaving my family unattended for so long. I am truly grateful for her help and for nurturing my spirit as well as my body while I was in her care.

The daily radiation, while certainly inconvenient, was really not that bad. Each appointment only took about 15 minutes and didn't hurt at all. I have a little skin discoloration where the beam passed through my skin but it doesn't bother me. The same cannot be said of the stereotactic dose to my spine. That single shot of radiation sent me into a spiral for no fewer than three days and caused me discomfort in my kidneys and on my abdominal skin. This, happily, passed in a few days and all is now well.

With some notable exceptions.

The pain in my spine and rib, which by all accounts should be gone now, has not abated. In addition, a large and very suspicious mass has developed in my breast exactly where the original cancer was, and I have a strange tenderness in my abdomen. When I showed these things to my doctor, he immediately ordered scans. We all expected them to come back showing that the cancer had continued its march in my breast and liver, and my doctor assured me that I should not worry if that was the case, that there were many tricks left in his arsenal. Needless to say, this time of waiting and wondering was very stressful.

The scans came back last week showing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Instead of being happy about this, as any normal person would be, I was incredulous. I went back to my doctor and asked that the NP do another physical exam to assure me that I am not imagining the mass in my breast. She concurred with my findings completely and could not understand why it didn't show up in the PET/CT. She ordered an MRI to see if we can get some more information on what is going on. That will be on Tuesday of this week.

So, the waiting and wondering has not ceased for me, even after all these weeks, but I am more peaceful with the state of things. As far as I can tell, there has never been a large active cancer that has not shown up on a PET, since cancer is by definition metabolic and the PET measures metabolic activity. Therefore, I have concluded that it has to be something else and I am wasting these precious nine weeks of happy scan results with needless worry. I tell you, the emotional roller coaster of cancer has been, for me, far worse than the physical insult. It is very difficult at times to get my head around living and dying, living and dying, and preparing for both simultaneously. But I am still a basically happy and peaceful person. That's the faith and prayers part!

One more minor thing to mention, if I'm coming clean. For the past nine weeks I have been receiving iron infusions to bolster my sagging hemoglobin. This has done wonders for my energy level and I have begun to feel more like a human being as my numbers have crept up. I am still below normal in my iron saturation, about half of what I should be, but double from where I was, so it is definitely working.

Just after my iron infusion on Thursday I nearly passed out. I had an intense bout of nausea and dizziness that almost flattened me. I alarmed the nurses, who called for my doctor (who was there in a flash and very reassuring) and kept me for awhile, giving me Benadryl and waiting while my blood pressure returned to normal. I have no explanation for this, and my doctor has called it a bad reaction to the iron, which happens occasionally, but rarely after so many infusions. Needless to say, he has discontinued the iron so I hope that my blood can find its own way from here on out. Just another piece of the puzzle. Truly, the entire episode was nothing short of humiliating for me, as I do not relish losing control over myself for even a moment. Especially in an infusion room filled with other patients.

So, there you have it. The up-to-the-minute update on my ever dramatic health situation. I am very fortunate to have children to distract me from all of this, because otherwise I might be in danger of becoming totally self-absorbed in my own health. But as it is, each day remains relatively normal for me, as I am pulled along with the tide of my family life. Thanks be to God.

Congratulations, Julia!

Julia made her First Holy Communion yesterday. She was a vision in her dress, and the day was a joy for us all. For the first time, we made it through a first communion mass without having to evacuate small children to the crying room, so I'd say it was an unqualified success!

As this day fell on the weekend between two weeks of daily radiation treatment that have me spending more time with doctors than with my family, I was simply grateful that we were all together.

Julia, may you never stray from the Holy Eucharist, which will always be your source of grace and strength. Congratulations!

It Was...Interesting

Jay does not insist that I do much for him; as far as husbands are concerned, he is pretty low maintenance. He likes his food to be hot, and that is really about it as far as his "must have" list. (Yes, I know I am blessed in this, and of course it makes me want to do all sorts of things to make him happy since he is so easy to please!)

So, imagine my surprise last week when I received an email from the producer of X-Factor (Simon Cowell's American Idol-like singing competition) confirming my audition in Los Angeles for Sunday. I thought it must be a mistake, because I would never, EVER sign up to audition for that show or any other reality circus that would require me to be on television, subject myself to riddicule and, most importantly, keep me away from my family who I leave often enough for medical reasons.

Then I scrolled down and read the entire thread. Apparently, Jay received a general notice of auditions some time back and took it upon himself to contact the producers to let them know that his wife has "a beautiful voice" but that, due to her cancer treatments, she could not stand to wait in the kind of lines required to obtain an audition. The producer then wrote back to Jay assuring him that he could get me a special, confirmed audition due to my condition that would minimize my wait time substantially and allow me to sit most of the time. Once this was in place, Jay decided to let me know that I would be auditioning, in three days' time.

After I scraped my jaw off the floor, I immediately launched into the million reasons I had no desire to do this. For one, I may sing fine in church, but I am no American Idol (nor do I wish to be). I don't perform or dance when I sing--I pray! When I don't pray a song, I don't sing it particularly well. Jay agreed that I sing best when praying and rather than excusing me from this farce he instead went to work assisting me in selecting songs that would allow me to show the judges who I am--a Christian genre singer.

Knowing that a Christian singer of any caliber would most likely not have the "X Factor" they are looking to share with a very secular, often musically offensive public, I refused to do it. I could see no point: I didn't want to audition, I didn't want to compete, I didn't want to be rejected, and I didn't even want to win a recording contract to be a pop star--not that I could have ever seen it going that way. Nonetheless, what else could this be but a complete waste of time?

But Jay looked at me, smiled sweetly, and said, "Please? I really want you to give this a try. For me."

What could I do?! Nothing, I tell you. I was doomed.

So, off we went on Sunday to the LA Sports Arena where I joined 15,000 hopefuls being herded and sorted like cattle. I tried to be cheerful and not grumble, because if I was going to do it to please him what would be the point in being grumpy about it? But I did let him know--sweetly, of course--that he owed me big time and that he had better not leave me alone for even a minute!

And you know what? I'm glad I went. It was really an experience like no other. I saw every type of human, and, sadly, what many of them would do to get on camera. I don't understand that desire at all, so I watched in a completely detached way the antics, outfits, and plotting that went on around me. I was partly amused but mostly horrified at what reality television has done to our society. I asked Jay, as we watched the scene around us with our jaws half open, if he thought God might be regretting his promise to never send another flood. Because, looking around at what the human race has become, it seemed like it might be a good time for another one.

Thankfully, there were a handful of normal, actually talented people there too. I got to talk to some of them who just wanted a platform to launch a legitimate singing career. This was in stark contrast to the man dressed like Michael Jackson and the girl group wearing blue wigs and satin pants.

Needless to say, I got to say "I told you so" to Jay when the judge told me, immediately with his body language and soon thereafter with his words, that I am most definitely not what they are looking for. Hmmm, who could have predicted that? Oh, that's right, I could have!

The best part of the experience for me was seeing how truly disappointed Jay was that they didn't see in me what he sees. That confidence and support of me was worth the entire day, so how could I regret it?

So what if I don't have America's X Factor? I have Jay's, and that is all I need!

It's Good to Know Your Lines

Sam's 4th grade teacher recently had a talk with the kids about personal hygiene. Apparently a warm up in the weather caused some unpleasant odors in the classroom, so they gently learned--many of them for the first time--about the wonders of deodorant.

Sam came home in a fever to get some Old Spice deodorant of his very own. At first I thought, "Old Spice?! Really?" I remembered Old Spice in our bathroom when I was very small and so I associated it with older dads and grandfathers. In fact, I remember that our Old Spice product had an old-fashioned brush for shaving with it. So, I hardly think of it as modern, and I certainly don't think of it as something a nine year old would aspire to.

Then I remembered the Old Spice Guy, that handsome gentleman who has been ceaselessly promoting Old Spice on TV. As someone who's career was in marketing before becoming a mom, I can most definitely appreciate the concept of brand repositioning, and Old Spice has certainly done that. They are now appealing to women, who do most of the decision making at the grocery store, and are advising them to ensure that their man smells like one. So, it was with admiration for the marketing team at Old Spice that I was pleased to ensure that Sam got his own deodorant.

The next morning, Sam came downstairs, lifted his arm proudly and said, "Mom, how do I smell?"

Luckily, I knew my line: "Like a MAN!"

Yep, that was the correct response. I don't think he stopped smiling for an hour.

What's Ahead

If you are interested in knowing what is ahead for me as I enter the world of radiation treatment, take a few minutes and watch this excellent summary put together by the UCLA Radiation Oncology department. Not only does it explain in detail what I can expect and how radiation works, but it features my own doctor (Dr. Selch) and the very same office and treatment rooms I will be seen in.

My spine will be treated with high-dose stereotactic radiation therapy, while my rib will receive the more traditional multi-dose beam over a period of somewhere around two weeks. I should get started in a week or so, after my insurance processes all of this.

So, here is everything you ever wanted to know about cancer radiation therapy. May you never need it yourself, but rest assured that, like almost everything in life, the concept is far scarier than the reality. I can definitely do this!

Boys are NOT Girls

Yesterday I heard some alarming noises coming from the trampoline area so I bolted out of the kitchen to see who was hurt. As I rounded the corner I saw Sam and his friend rolling around in the middle of a circle of other children (some mine, some visiting).

At first I was confused--I couldn't tell which one was hurt. Then, it occurred to me that they were fighting. This was very difficult to process, as these two are good friends who spend a lot of time together and I could not imagine them in a physical fight.

I finally cried out to the crowd in a desperate attempt to see what was going on, and they all looked at me like I was from Mars. "Mom," Lindsey said, as if I were the least intelligent person she had ever encountered, "they're playing tap out wrestling."

Duh.

No, wait. What's that?!

I watched in horror for a few moments as they rolled over eachother and jabbed at one another, fairly evening matched from what I could tell. I finally couldn't take it any more and said, "This can't possibly be fun for you, can it?!"

The wrestling came to an abrupt halt. Sam grinned at me, blood oozing from a (small) cut on his lip, and said enthusiastically, "YES!" His friend agreed with equal enthusiasm, just before he lunged at Sam anew.

I looked pleadingly at the girls in the crowd and said, "Have any of you girls ever felt the need to do this?" Again, they looked at me like I was dumb as a fence post. "No!" they chorused. Of course not. But it didn't stop them from enjoying the show, I noted.

Boys will be boys, I guess, but this girl will never, ever understand them.

Spring is in the Air

It may still be Winter officially, but at our house we ushered in Spring today. Amidst the blossoming trees and warm beams of sunshine could be heard the delighted shouts of my children as they opened the pool for the first time since Fall.

You couldn't pay me enough to get in that unheated water (although I could be convinced to join them in the 99 degree thawing tub). However, seeing my children truly worn out from several hours of hard core swimming? I would pay plenty for that.

I've missed you, sun! Welcome back.

My Annual Torment

Why, oh why, do the Girls Scouts time their cookie season to match Lent?

Every year I look longingly at boxes of Samoas and ponder the question of whether this is a cruel joke or a complete coincidence. I currently have two girl scouts who badger me to order cookies in January, when it seems like a really good idea. However, when the order arrives during Lent I wonder what I was thinking. For weeks these boxes sit on the pantry shelves while I shoot loving glances their way, counting the days until they can be mine.

Today, as an added bonus, I got to spend three hours with Julia outside of Lowes staffing her troop's cookie booth. We sold dozens of boxes to happy people while I imagined them, somewhat resentfully, ripping the boxes open the minute they got back to their cars (which is exactly what I would do if I were them, no doubt!). Julia, like me, gave up cookies for Lent, so she abstained along with me while the other girls of her troop liberally sampled their products. I was proud of her, especially her cheerful disposition about the whole thing.

It helps that we always exclude Sundays from our Lenten promises. They are, after all, feast days in and of themselves, so we treat them as such. We were both imagining tomorrow when we would be consuming the box of Samoas we tucked away for the occasion.

It also helps that Easter is late this year so we had a little time to enjoy a few cookies before Ash Wednesday happened upon us.

Still I want to know. Why cookies at this time of the year? There are 11 other months that would work just fine. I'm just saying.

Doesn't This Just Say It All?

At the moment, I have many friends in need of encouragement. From marital issues to health problems, from unemployment to children with disabilites, everyone, it seems, has their crosses to bear. My prayer list is getting longer and longer, and my heart simply aches for each person on it. Please know, dear friends, that I am with you through it all, and that all of this will pass in time. In the meantime, please consider this beautiful quote that has inspired me.

"For a son of God, each day should be an opportunity for renewal, knowing for sure that with the help of grace he will reach the end of the road, which is Love.

That is why if you begin and begin again, you are doing well. If you have a will to win, if you struggle, then with God's help, you will conquer! There will be no difficulty you cannot overcome!"

-St. Josemaria Escriva

One day at a time, my friends. One day at a time.

One Less Thing to Cry Over

I'm speaking of spilled milk, of course.

I came home a few nights ago to a pile of wet kitchen towels on the floor of the laundry room. (Incidentally, this is exactly where I ask the children to place things that need washing, as I find their sorting skills somewhat lacking in precision.) I didn't think much of this, and carried on with serving dinner and helping with homework.

In the context of a completely unrelated conversation, it came out that Bella had "helped" earlier that evening by bringing in a gallon of milk from the garage, and that she had accidentally dropped it by the hall closet. Naturally, the plastic split and an entire gallon of milk spread itself across the tile.

As I questioned the children about this, completely stunned that there was virtually no evidence of this having happened (other than the wet towels), I learned that Sam, hearing the spill from upstairs, dashed down and set to work cleaning it up without hesitation. No grown up asked him to do it. He had nothing to do with the mess. He just fixed it, and did a great job doing so. If I hadn't seen the towels, I wouldn't have ever known it had happened. That is a real first for me.

Sam definitely earned "kid of the week" in this family. May this helpful trend be contagious and oft repeated!

Just A Bump In The Road

Scan results are in...

The good news:

1. My liver is still completely clear.
2. My doctor continues to be delighted with my response to treatment.
3. I continue on the clinical trial of T-DM1.

The less good news:

1. I have some new, active skeletal metastases in my rib and thoracic vertebrae.
2. They hurt.

The good news in response to the less good news:

1. I will receive radiation on these spots to relieve the pain and hopefully zap this cancer into total oblivion.
2. The clinical trial I am on does not consider progression of cancer in the bones as "worsening of disease". In other words, I get to keep receiving this drug that has done so well for me for so long.
3. I have been advised that activity in the bone does not pose a threat to other organs. Apparently, bones behave differently than tissue.
4. My doctor is not even slightly alarmed by this turn of events and still believes I am doing amazingly well.

In other news, I have begun to receive a weekly iron infusion to combat a hemoglobin deficiency that has caused me great fatigue of late. I am thrilled that the problem has been identified and that we can now address it, as my energy levels have been sub-human the last few weeks (and don't the kids know it--they smell weakness a mile away!)

Although it is difficult to not become alarmed by progression of any kind, my entire medical team has assured me that this is really not, in and of itself, a big deal and is really par for the course with a Stage IV diagnosis. While we all, of course, had hoped that we had beaten things back completely and permenantly with our first strike, the reality is that I am living with a chronic disease. It will rear its ugly head occasionally and we will just have to beat it back into submission each time it shows up with whatever tools we have in our arsenal. And there are plenty of things in that arsenal.

We will tackle this bump in the road head on with every expectation of success and the ever-present knowledge that God is ultimately in charge of it all.

So, let's bring on the radiation, continue with the drug that is keeping my liver healthy, and, above all, keep the faith!

Not Your Usual Breakfast Comment

Today I had a PET/CT scan. As usual, this required that I fast beforehand and follow some other general guidelines (such as no exercise for 24 hours--now THAT one is hard to take, I tell you). These scans also require that I keep a roughly 10 foot space between the kids and myself after the scan for the remainder of the day in case I am shedding radation. As you might imagine, this is difficult for the little ones to understand, and I am so grateful for the older children, husband and grandmas who are quick to hold, help, change or read to smaller siblings in order to distract them from this ordinance.

At any rate, I have now done nuclear tests so often that my kids can recognize the difference in my morning routine on a scan day. Particularly observant this morning, Julia said, "Oh, do you have a scan today?" I confirmed that I did. (I'm sure her ability to recognize this had NOTHING AT ALL to do with fact that I might possibly have been a bit edgy without my morning coffee).

"Will you be radioactive?" she asked next. I confirmed that I would be.

Tony, listening to this from the other side of the breakfast counter, promptly wailed, "Aaaawwwww, I HATE it when you're radioactive!"

Not your typical breakfast conversation to be sure, but a very real part of our crazy reality.

Scan results will be ready Thursday, and I will make every attempt to post them that same day. Thanks for waiting along with me!

Locks of Love

I have not been able to cut my hair since my diagnosis. At first it was purely psychological--I was supposed to lose my hair and, indeed, was prepared to do so. When I found out I was spared that particular side effect thanks to my study drug, I clung to my tresses with all my might.

After a few months of observing the women in the infusion room who were not as fortunate as I in their follicle response to chemo, I began to realize that I was growing it for a purpose. Locks of Love is an organization that makes real human hair wigs for children who have lost their hair due to cancer treatment or other health disorders causing hair loss. My hair met their specifications for donation, provided I could give them 10 inches. Now, that's a lot of hair. Nonetheless, I was determined to give back what should not have been mine and so the growing began.

Last week I made the cut and sent the envelope off with much joy and a beautifully complete sense of purpose. I have had the chance to return a gift that was given me and I couldn't be happier about it. Plus, I love my new haircut!

Here's what 10 inches of hair looks like...

What Does This Say About Our Family?

Tonight was open house at Sacred Heart School. We were visiting Lindsey's classroom when Sam caught sight of her "Life Goals" poster on the wall. We stopped to read it together.

There were about 10 things on the list, roughly half having to do with places Lindsey would like to visit. I was reading off this list--Visit New York, Visit Paris, Visit China, etc.--when I came to number seven: "See Big Ben".

Sam paused for a minute and then said, "Big Ben Roethlisberger?" clearly impressed that his non-football-fan sister would have this on a short list of her life goals.

After explaining to Sam that she meant the clocktower in London and subsequently witnessing his total disappointment in this, it occurred to me that we just might want to spend a little more time on world culture and a little less time on football stats.

Or not. 'Cause really, which will be more useful in everyday life? Seriously!

A Sad Day Indeed

One of the things I have been enjoying about Natalie recently is how she looks at me, raises up her arms and says, "Hold you!" I have asked her so many times, "Can I hold you?" that she now has her pronouns for this sentence totally mixed up.

This morning she waited for me at the top of the stairs, raised her arms and said, "Hold me!" I did a double take and said, "Hold ME?!" She repeated clearly, "Hold me!"

Awww. I HATE when they grow out of my favorite mispronunciations.

At least Bella still says "besince" instead of "because". I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

Isn't it Obvious?

Jay called me over this morning, as he often does, to ask that I take a moment out of my busy day to appreciate the dog. This is the scene that inspired his affection:

Unmoved, I said, "You know, I could do that. Lay around all day and bask in my own odor, contributing nothing to the house. Would I get the same admiration?"

Jay, looked totally shocked, exclaimed, "But he IS contributing something to the household!"

"Oh really?" I asked skeptically. "What's that?"

"Aesthetics!" he confidently replied.

Of course. Don't know how I could have missed it.