All posts by Kirsetin

Every Three Minutes

May 29, 2009friendship, illnessKirsetin

My mom faced breast cancer like the trouper she is. She squared her shoulders, took the chemical beatings, and shouldered on. Did she falter? Did she cry? I’m sure she did. But as she has for all of my life, she kept her sorrow private, wiped her tears, and put the fighting gloves on for the rest of it.

Because my mom is like this, I knew she’d go in fighting. But I didn’t know how hard it would be to watch her fight. I didn’t know what it would feel like to see her lose her hair, select her scarves, draw on her eyebrows, and still make it to the grocery store. I didn’t know that even if she beat the cancer, the after-effects of the poison that killed it would linger, reminding us all of the silent stalker that came after her.

And it’s not just her. My mother-in-law’s dear, dear friend lost her battle recently, with my mother-in-law by her side. My friend Janet’s mom fought breast cancer over 10 years ago. Last year it returned, and she’s fighting again. Another friend – a mom of 4 young boys – is battling breast cancer right now. She’s not even 40.

Is it surprising that every 3 minutes someone in the United States is diagnosed with breast cancer? You know someone, right? Sure you do. We all do. It’s that scary. And yet in the midst of the fear, there’s hope. Hope remains because—like my mom, and Janet’s mom, and my mother-in-law’s friend, and my young girlfriend—there are a lot of fighters in this world, and some of them are doctors who are working hard to find a cure. As they fight that fight, they need our help. They need our funds.

There are a million different ways to contribute. You might recall that last year some friends and I walked in the Race for the Cure, with their pretty pink port-a-potties.

We walked our 5 miles and made our donations, and I hope we do it again next year.

And recently, I heard from my old college friend, Amy, whom I met when we were just 18 and full of certainty, and with whom I spent a semester of college trolling around Europe. Amy was planning to walk in Avon’s Walk for Breast Cancer in Boston and she sent out an e-mail letting friends and family know they could contribute. And my, oh my, did they!

On May 16 & 17, Amy joined 2,500 others who walked 39.3 miles to raise money for this fight. Her friends and family contributed over $3000—part of the more than $5.6 million raised and given as grants to Boston area organizations. Amy said that the most moving part of the experience came when she was randomly chosen, as one walker was every three minutes, and “draped with a large pink ribbon banner that read, ‘Every Three Minutes.’” As she continued her walk, Amy said that she “thought about the woman who had just learned of her battle ahead. I walked with new purpose for her,” she said, “and for all of the other fighters.”

Forget about trolling around Europe. This is my new memory of my friend, and I thank her from the bottom of my heart.

Respecting Your Spouse

May 27, 2009marriage, Wedded BlissKirsetin

respect R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Does that word have you singing the old Aretha song? That one little word has resonated with fans throughout the years in part, I think, because we get it. We all get it. Is there anyone who doesn’t desire a healthy dose of respect from others – from our friends, family, and even strangers? When it comes to marriage, it’s the same story: we deeply desire the respect of our spouse. And, in the beginning, it seems pretty simple. It seems easy, even. Because when you’ve recently fallen in love, there’s no end to the things you admire and respect about your beloved and he admires and respects about you. Easy as pie.

Flash forward. Add pets, a house, yard work, and jobs. Throw in a couple of kids, housework, chores, chores and a few more chores. Add different interests and new friendships. Mix in a healthy dose of difficult parenting choices, less and less time together as a couple, and there you have it: A Full-Blown Recipe for Disaster.

What’s a girl to do? See my post over at Wedded Bliss today for more.

If You Find A Tiny Piece of Rotten Wood…

May 26, 2009cottage, hard work, home projects, kid's choresKirsetin

I took the day off from blogging yesterday, but Heather said what I would’ve said anyway. With two words, and two images, she said it all. Thanks, Heather.

And because I am a girl who likes to relax on her holidays, a girl who really believes in life balance and taking time off, I spent yesterday lounging by the pool, watching my kids frolic, and enjoying the frosty beverage in my hand. Ahhh, the peace.

Oh wait, no, that’s not right. What I meant was that I spent the day scraping and mixing and painting and sweating.

I did enjoy watching my kids, but they weren’t frolicking so much as moaning about the injustice of having to dig and pull weeds all afternoon.

At one point, my eldest claimed a stomachache. It’s fair to say that his paint-covered, suspicious parents didn’t show much empathy for the shirker. Get back to work, buddy, and here—take this barf bag with you, just in case. Funny how he recovered so quickly.

Since we were planning such a big workday yesterday, you might think we took it easy when my mom and dad came into town last week. Well, you’d think. Also, you might think we’d consider their long drive, that we’d wonder if they were tired, or wanted to do something fun. Or, you might think I’m the kind of daughter that says, “Hey dad, can you help me repair this tiny little rotten wood around our door frame?”

If you thought the latter, you’d be right.

And if you’ve ever had a tiny little rotten piece of wood around your door frame, you know the rest of the story, right? There is NEVER a tiny little rotten piece of wood. It’s ALWAYS hiding a bigger problem. My suggestion? Ignore it. Paint over it. Look the other way. But, dear Lord, don’t ask your dad to take it out, because you will end up with this.

And then this.

The good news is that in the end both the door frame and the paint job look good. But I am definitely ignoring that other tiny little piece of rotting wood. Definitely.