Valentine's Day, 2015

This year's annual V-day scavenger hunt was themed to our upcoming vacation. And this is no ordinary vacation. This is a family pilgrimage across the wild west planned by our wonderful, obsessive-compulsive trip planner, Andy. So, basically, it's going to be epic (and very, very organized).

 First Stop: Grand Canyon

Next Stop: Vegas

In our mad dash to get to our next clue, we dropped our "Daddy head." But, we knew we were heading to the Sequoia National Forrest. For children living in Edmond, the closest thing is a tiny tree in the yard.

 Next Stop: San Diego

 And finally, LA

And finally, squealing hugs

This man....

When Your Kid Has A Thing, Part 2

Part One is here.

While I do agree that earlobes don't seem all that necessary, I still wanted my kid to have one. Call me selfish, but I just did.

Finally, we came across a doctor in NYC named Dr. Tirgan. He was an oncologist, yet he devoted his entire practice to the research and treatment of rare skin disorders, in particular keloid disorder. And after pouring over his research, stalking his website, and calling his clinic we decided that we were taking Mia to see him. Andy and I both just had this sense that his simple treatment made the most sense.

We sent our pediatrician his information and let him know this was who we wanted to see. He didn't take insurance and he was inconveniently (or conveniently, however you want to look at it) located in New York but, and hear me when I say this, I NO LONGER CARED ABOUT ANYTHING BUT MY KID'S EAR.

Hell hath no fury like a woman who can't get help for her kid.

Thankfully we decided to keep one more local appointment with a hand surgeon that our pediatrician suggested. We weren't too hopeful because, hand surgeon, but for some reason we went.

It turned out to be one of those moments where you know that the Lord had you right where he wanted you to be. This woman (Dr. Sylvia Gray at Mercy I35) was perfect for several reasons: a) she practiced for a year in Africa and saw keloids all the time, b) she trained in a completely different part of the country where she worked with many different ethnicities and saw keloids a lot (at this point if a doctor had seen one at all we felt like it was a lot), and c) she was more than willing to work with us and Dr. Tirgen in NYC.

I almost kissed her.

We contacted Dr. Tirgen in NYC and he suggested talking Dr. Gray through the procedure and letting her do it in OKC.

I almost kissed him through the phone.

And now, four (or is it five? I've lost track) procedures later, Mia is winning at this whole keloid thing!

The finished product (for now). 

We've now started compression therapy 20 out of 24 hours per day. She will most likely have to do this for a couple of years.

compression piece she sleeps in:

 her day-wear:

She doesn't love having "a thing." But you know what? She doesn't hate it either. It's her thing. She may as well enjoy it. It could possibly get her out of PE if she's desperate ("I should probably skip dodgeball today because, you know, the keloid.") and her compression earrings make for great conversation. Dr. Gray even found a lady on Etsy that will make fancy ones for special occasions. Bring on the bling!

Both Tirgan and Gray have warned us repeatedly that this is a long process. That Mia might have to have treatments well into her young adult years. That it could happen other places on her body. And this little girl just shrugs and starts talking about her latest Minecraft invention. 

I think our kids have a lot on us when it comes to accepting the curve balls that life sometimes throws. I have learned a lot through this process (which is minor and simple compared to what a lot of people face).

I think I need to be more childlike and less childish. I'm thinking Mia can teach me a lot about that.

When Your Kid Has A Thing, Part 1

*Mia Lashley approves this message.

My sweet daughter has been on a journey of sorts over the last year and today she told me I should share it on the blog. She said maybe another kid's mom would read it and it would help someone else feel better about having "a thing."

For Mia's eighth birthday she got her ears pierced. It was fairly uneventful (except for the part that was very eventful - the guns going to the ears).

She came home and happily set up her new jewelry holder with earrings in the shape of woodland creatures.

After a couple of months she began to complain about one of her ears. We ditched the cheap jewelry and decided Brighton studs were the only thing that was going to work for her.

Brighton earrings aren't cheap but the are pretty cute.

Another couple of months passed by and she continued to complain about one of her ears. She kept saying she couldn't get an earring through it because there was something inside that was growing. I kind of blew it off because it felt like a little scar tissue knot and I just didn't think it was a big deal. 

Finally, she took her earrings out for about a week because she was cast in a play and she couldn't wear earrings during the dress rehearsals. That's when we noticed this:

 Whatever that knot on the inside was appeared to be growing out of both sides of her piercing.

Andy and I were all, "What. The. What?" 

We immediately consulted our pediatrician who sent us to a dermatologist. After consulting with the derm (#1 of many), he decided that Mia had a skin condition called Keloid Disorder. 

I did the first thing anyone does when they hear medical terms they aren't familiar with, I googled it. I then did the second thing people do right after the googling, I freaked (and banned Mia from the computer for life).

The good news: it's just "a thing," it's not cancer, it's not fatal, it's no big deal

The bad news: no one one the internet seems to have much success treating them, oh, and they don't stop growing!

Google search=bad

Removing it wasn't an option as these types of tumors tend to grow back at an even more rapid pace once they are cut on. So, it was decided that Mia would begin steroid injections, directly into the tumor, with hopes of shrinking it. 

Mia was a champ and sat through months of these treatments, not moving a muscle while someone shoved a needle through this thing over and over again.

I guess we wanted this to work so badly that we didn't notice that the little SOB was continuing to grow every week. Finally Mia had to point it out to us.

Enter freak out session number two. We fired our doctor (Actually, he fired us. I think his words were, "Don't come back, I'm canceling the rest of your appointments.") and we consulted our pediatrician again for Plan B. 

I have a whole new respect for people that face real medical issues that are much more pressing than this, because, wow, this was stressful, and it is nothing compared to what some people face all the time.

• We took Mia to every doctor that would see us in the OKC area. None of them had a clue what to do with this. 
• One suggested chopping her ear lobe off and making a new one out of skin from her neck. Um, no thank you. 
• Several recommended radiation therapy. Don't call us, we'll call you.
• And the rest were all, "Ummm, I don't think I can help you."
• So I started calling doctors all over the country.
• No one believed me when I would call them and tell them my daughter was a) white and b) nine-years-old. ("I'm sorry Ma'm, these don't occur in light skinned people and they aren't found in children before puberty." They do and they are.)
• Then I joined message boards and chat rooms of people with keloids. They would recommend a doctor or a treatment and we would call or try it.
• I bought essential oils, snake oils, special creams made by witch doctors in Nepal....you name it, we tried it.

I became a woman obsessed. And all the while this thing kept growing.

I guess I couldn't get a clear shot of it that day.

One day I was sitting at the computer on yet another skin disorder message board and sending pictures to another round of doctors when I lost it. I hadn't shared this with too many people because it's my kids ear, not mine, and I wanted to take my cues from her. Also, I always tried to wait until she wasn't around to make phone calls to doctors because I didn't want her to feel like this was especially serious and I didn't want her to become even more self conscious about it.

But finally I had had it and I sent an email to some of my closest friends and asked them to start praying right then for answers. I was tired of googling. I was sick of dragging my kid to doctors that didn't get it. And I was mad. 

This is America, for goodness sakes, there should be a pill for this!

And about Mia: She took most of this in stride. We kept telling her, "Hey, this is just a thing. Everyone has one. It's going to be fine. It may not be perfect, but it will be fine." 

But really, inside I was sad. At the risk of sounding ridiculous, I was sad that my kid would never get to wear earrings again, ever. I was sad that this is genetic. I was sad that this could happen on other places of her body. I was bummed out that her ear looked weird. I really was.

But she wasn't. She was fine. She seemed to pretty easily accept her thing. In fact, at times she kind of enjoyed the attention she received because of it. She got out of some school. She wore patches and bandages that kids would ask her about. It gave her some street cred.

And as her great pediatrician said, "It's just an earlobe. Who needs them?" And, really, who does?

Part 2 is here.

Sometimes I have a day that just rocks.

Case in point: Thursday. The day Donald Miller came to campus. The day I got to hang out with Donald Miller. The day I introduced Donald Miller, as if we were bffs, to a sold-out crowd. The day Donald Miller and I talked about coffee together. The day Donald Miller spoke in chapel and made a joke about God taking a shower and I was all, "Oh, Donny, you are such a funny boy," in my head to myself. 

So, anyway, my job has its perks. 

I read Blue Like Jazz about ten years ago and it changed me. It's one of those books that says what you are thinking but in a much better way than you could ever say it. And at the end of it you're equal parts mad that you didn't write it yourself and inspired to write your own thing.

Then I read this,

 and this,

 and this, 

 and I'm about to read this. (It's available for preorder on Amazon. It's a man's perspective on struggling with intimacy.)

The week leading up to his visit I was a maniac. I think my coworkers were scared. I didn't care. I sat in his chair and pretended to be him multiple times to make sure the lighting and sound and chairs and tables and coffee were nothing less than perfect. 

I refuse to take selfies unless it's really late at night, I'm going on 16 straight hours of work, I'm delirious, and Donald Miller has just full-on hugged me.

 This was a bucket-list day for me. 

If you haven't read a Donald Miller yet, do it as soon as possible. This post will make a lot more sense afterwards, I assure you.

An Autobiography in Five Short Paragraphs

Chapter I

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost... I am hopeless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter II

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in this same place.
But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

 Chapter III

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it there.
I still fall in... it's a habit... but,
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

 Chapter IV

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter V

I walk down another street.

- Portia Nelson

One of my graduate professors gave this to us on our first day in his class. I now give it to my students and clients. Life would be much easier if we could just skip chapters 2-4. But, I've learned that getting to chapter five looks different for everyone and sometimes it's those middle chapters that teach us the most.

I almost can't handle how cute this is.

Happy New Year!

My first image of 2015: 

It's so thoughtful of the kids to go ahead and be upfront about what I can expect from them in the coming year.  No illusions here. 

From our dysfunctional family to yours, may 2015 bring you peace in the midst of utter chaos.

It seems like just yesterday my kids liked each other.

Actually, it was last week:

And then one day I woke up to this crap:

The eye rolling, exasperated sighs, that whiney yelling sound that makes you want to gouge your eyes out with a toothpick, and the ornery look in Bode's eye that just screams "guilty as charged."

It came out of nowhere and it is unrelenting. You know what else came out of nowhere? My new drinking habit.

It's going to be a long eight years with these two under the same roof.

If you're not one of Mia's grandmothers you may want to skip this.

If you're still reading, don't say you weren't warned.

Let's just call it like it is: Mia rocked the 4th grade musical. She just did.

The day before, however, she was rocking a 102 degree fever and a "barking seal" cough. A trip to the doctor and a giant shot in the leg was enough to get her back.

 Mia hasn't napped in the middle of the day since she was 18 months old. I wish I were exaggerating.

Mia's awesome new music teacher:

Although you can't see her face at all in this video, you still get the point - she has a flair for the dramatic.

The best part of every show is all the love you get afterwards:

I can't stop being proud of this sweet girl. This quiet, contemplative little person who loves the stage - go figure.

Clearly, all my genes are recessive.

This is Andy at age seven. Seriously, how is this not Bode?

If only his eyes were open....We had to explain to the kids about the days of yesteryear when you took a picture and had to actually wait a week before you saw if it turned out or not. They were mortified.