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.

Clarification, Please

It's family prayer time...the part where we all go around and state our specific intentions.

Tony says: "And I pray for mommy's cancer...."

There is silence, as the kids process this. Then come some smiles and suppressed giggles.

Tony is looking proud of himself for remembering me in his intentions.

Finally, Jay says: "You mean, that the cancer does BADLY, right? You're not rooting for the cancer, are you?"

Tony, burying his head under the covers, just nods. Everyone is relieved.

Natalie

Poor Natalie. As the seventh child, she is most definitely not as well-documented as her older siblings.

As I delighted in her antics this morning, I decided to dedicate a post just to her, so we could take note of some of the things I am not writing in her baby book. (Since I haven't made one for her. YET, of course. I plan to get right on that.)

Because she is preceded by a sister with such a strong personality (I speak, of course, of Bella), I tend to think of Natalie as having a mild-mannered temperament. However, she is quite her own person with plenty of spunk of her own. She definitely has her opinions and makes them known.

Natalie, more than any of my other children, is influenced by her siblings. Now that Joey and Lindsey are old enough to help care for her, she spends a decent amount of time being carted around, bathed, changed or fed by her older siblings. Even Sam and Julia help her out a lot, and she knows to go to any of the older four children for the things she needs. If she wants milk, she asks whoever she finds first. It is really the first time one of my children looks to their older siblings as often or more often than to me. This is not a bad or a good thing, it just is what it is. I appreciate the help and she loves the attention.

As you might imagine, spending so much time with older brothers and sisters brings its own dimension to her personality. For instance, as we were sitting in church a few Sundays ago, waiting for mass to begin, Natalie stood up, wiggled her little rear and enthusiastically shouted, "Conga, conga, conGA!". I didn't have to ask where she learned that, as her older siblings nearly fell under the pew trying to control their laughter.

Similarly, last month she delighted me with her statement, "I Santa. Ho Ho Ho!" It was followed shortly by the clicking sound the reindeer make on the roof as she chanted, "Reindeer, reindeer, reindeer." I was convinced she was the smartest two year old on the planet until I realized that she had been carefully coached. Although I am still convinced of her obvious intelligence, I now understand that Julia invested a decent amount of time imparting this critical knowledge to her.

Less delightful is her penchant for coloring. On the walls, on the couch, on herself. I took her to the doctor yesterday for a vaccination and was completely embarrassed when I removed her clothes and found not one but two marker colors broadly decorating her torso and legs.

Jay and I joke that as far as candy is concerned, Natalie is like one of those pigs who can sniff out truffles in the forest. If she is silent for more than two minutes (and I am sure there are no markers in the vicinity) I can be sure that she has moved stools, stacked things or otherwise connived to locate any hidden stash of candy anywhere in the house and is helping herself liberally. You can't imagine how many times I've heard an outraged cry of an older sibling who has found their Halloween candy, or birthday treat bag, rooted through and completely looted.

Natalie LOVES Dora. I felt a little guilty about how much of it I let her watch when I heard her count to seven in Spanish yesterday (remember she is just 25 months old). I quickly buried my guilt, however, with the consolation that she will be a leg up when she begins her Spanish classes in high school.

Natalie is going to be quite the ballerina some day (the linebacker body and tree trunk legs notwithstanding). She asks me to sing the "Ballerina" Song (made famous by Miss Kitty) and twirls and twirls until I stop. Her grand finale is usually a seat drop wherever she is, be it on carpet or on tile, which never fails to crack up the rest of the family.

She is definitely her mother's daughter in that she savors her food. Every time she takes a bite of anything she says, "MmmmmMMMM!" and beams at me. She never fails to say, "Thank you!" for anything I give her. She has also learned that a well placed, "Pleeeeeeeease?" goes a long way with us all. She greets me enthusiastically whenever I return to the house (even if I just took something to the trash) and runs to me, hugging my leg. I will miss that someday. She says, "I love you!" all day long, and I never get tired of hearing it.

There are a million more things to say about her amazing little personality and her entertaining activities, but I think this serves its purpose. So, Natalie, please know that although I can not chronicle your life as if you were an only child, you delight me as much as if you were one. I love you!

Humble Acknowlegement

My last scans came in clear. Again.

This means that every scan since last April has been free from active cancer. My breast shows no evidence that there was ever a tumor in it. My liver has no lesions. My bones, though scarred, show no significant uptake on PET scan. I have one little "hot spot" on a single rib that is almost certainly a microfracture over a healed lesion . And that is all.

For some reason, even though I have had good scan after good scan, I have been reluctant to declare myself as the miracle I know that I am. Jay has been anxious for our NED party, but I have not been able to give the all clear for it. Perhaps it is because I have been quite guarded that this good news could end at any time, or maybe it is because I am waiting for the bones to completely heal (which they may never do). Whatever the reason has been, it is time to move forward.

So here is my declaration: I am a walking miracle! God has chosen to heal me, has heard all the prayers and has answered them. Apparently, I have more to do here on earth (no pressure, right?!). I am humbled and so very grateful, especially for my family who needs me.

My oncologist told me at my last visit that I have demonstrated a "complete response" to treatment. In other words, I am in remission as far as Stage IV can be in remission. He very frankly told me that he didn't know what to do with me now, that no one could know, as we sailed off the map long ago on this clinical trial. Should we go off the medicine and hope the cancer does not return or should we keep on with it for a good while? He does not know and neither do I. He has to assume, based on his years of experience, that there are still some cancerous cells in my body that are just too small to see radiologically. Yet, he also says I might be cured. Only God knows.

So, for now, we have decided to continue with the treatments since the side effects are tolerable for me (certainly versus the potential alternative!). This decision was made easier due to the fact that T-DM1 is not yet commercially available and I could not go back to it if I wanted to.

While I cannot technically have a NED party (No Evidence of Disease) since my bones show plenty of evidence, I most certainly can have a CR (Complete Response) party and intend to do so shortly. I think I will wait for one more clean scan, just to be sure, and then, with all of you as witness to this promise, will set a date and start the planning.

And there you have it.

Merry Christmas to ALL

Julia made sure the reindeer were not forgotten, and that Santa was sure to know that these were for his team, not diet food for himself.

We wish you all a very Merry Christmas. May peace and joy permeate your home this day.

Suzanne and Family

P.S. Apologies for not posting the news of Joey's pathology, as many of you have asked. His lymph node tested negative for everything and the doctors have concluded that it just reacted to something and went a little crazy. He is healthy and completely through with all of this. Thanks for your concern and prayers!

Over and Done With (I Hope!)

We are home!

Joey had surgery yesterday to remove the inexplicably swollen lymph node in his neck, and all went very well, thanks be to God. Nonetheless, his surgeon admitted him for observation overnight and as anyone who has ever been in the hospital knows, it is a bit like the roach motel...you can check in, but you can't check out! It took hours and hours to clear him for departure today and we were both literally dancing out of the ward when we were finally released.

Since I've had such a life-saving experience at UCLA we chose to have Joey's surgery there. Once again I was impressed by the care we received, not just medically but from a human standpoint as well. Everyone was so very kind and accommodating, which helps a lot when you are worried about your kid.

The surgery took about two hours and left Joey with a roughly two inch incision mid-neck with a small drain, which was removed right before we left today. He was amazingly stoic throughout the whole thing and didn't even need any pain meds at all today. His doctor ended up removing two lymph nodes rather than just the one since it had become fused to its neighbor due to its significant swelling. She assured me that he still has plenty left and that he won't miss these at all. Since she managed to deftly avoid the two nerves that ran right through the area and maintain all of Joey's facial movement I am feeling quite grateful to her.

Joey's lymph node is now in pathology where it will be dissected and cultured a dozen ways to see if they can figure out exactly what went haywire with it. We should have results in a few days. His blood shows no sign of infection of any kind, so if the pathology is clean this may be the end of this all. I certainly hope that is the case.

Thanks to those of you who have been praying for him and checking in to see how he is. We are truly grateful.

Here is a picture of Joey acting goofy right as they were wheeling him into the OR. The meds hadn't yet put him under but clearly had done their job in relaxing him. You can see the lymph node protruding from the left side (his right). He is not sorry to have that bulge gone.

Here's to great medical insurance...hip hip hooray!

Post Season Report

Perhaps the football team she cheered for didn't win any games this year, but at least its cheerleaders were champions.

Julia and her talented squad brought home the first place trophy at yesterday's cheer competition, and boy did they deserve it! I could not believe how good they were. They are, after all, only seven and eight year olds, but darned if they didn't pull off a complicated, original, perfectly synchronized and virtually flawless performance. As soon as I get the DVD I ordered I might have to put it on youtube for you all to enjoy.

Both my girls kept their routines tightly under wraps in order to surprise me on competition day, and I was so completely delighted by not only Julia's but also by Lindsey's unique and playful performance. Lindsey's team did not place this year (don't get me started on why she should have placed above a team that relied on a raunchy dance to secure its trophies) but that did not diminish the beauty of a job well done for her team as well. I'm very proud of my girls and somewhat surprised (and don't quote me on this) to discover that cheerleading actually IS a real sport. Kind of.

Like my football players, my girls have learned to be part of a team, how to rely on one another, how to win and lose, and that a group is only as strong as its weakest link. Plus, they've learned to yell really, really loudly, and when is that not a skill to be valued in a family of seven children?!

As for the end of the football season, Sam's team lost in second round playoffs and Joey's team lost in the championship game. So, neither brought home the first place trophy, but both had a great season and played for well-coached and classy teams. All in all, a great year.

So, while everyone around here is a little depressed that football is over for the year, I am personally reveling in the fact that for the next six months I don't have to stuff pads, run the practice trolley and keep track of multiple hair bows. I'm entering my off season as well, and I'm pretty happy about that. Whew!