I have an 8-year-old daughter and 8-year-old niece. We’ve read the books. I read the books when I was a kid too. So I was excited to see this movie. We are also huge Selena Gomez fans in our house too. John Corbett and Josh Duhamel are easy on the eyes too.

I won’t spoil anything, but the movie was great and heartwarming. My favorite part – no huge special effects, loud music or crazy animated characters. Sure all of that is fun, but it’s nice to watch a quiet movie that’s more about the story and characters than the hugeness of it all.

Although I don’t remember specifics from the books, I do remember some of the parts from the books. They showed up in the film. The one disappointing thing, if you can call it that, was that I thought the girls were younger in the books. In the movie, Beezus is somewhere around 15 and Ramona is 9 1/2. I also thought the books told the story from Beezus’ perspective about her younger, rambuncious sister Ramona. The movie is told from Ramona’s perspective and it has more to do with their entire family dynamics vs just focusing on the sisters’ relationship.

Apart from that, the movie is a sweet, warm story about the difficulties, bumps and love a family goes through while the kids are growing up. My own family has had some pretty big bumps recently and the movie made me stop and think about everything from the kids’ point of view versus my own.

So enjoy a cool, quiet afternoon in the AC and take your kids and go watch “Ramona and Beezus” this summer.

Two of the weeks were spent in the hospital. One week in palliative care spent hoping there would be a cure. A stall. Something. Then a final week with hospice. I can’t say enough about The Denver Hospice. Amazing, caring, unbelievable people. I don’t know what we would have done without all of the support 24 hours a day.

Then a fast decline and suddenly we were sitting in a mortuary making final arrangements. More on this later.

I really had no idea what had happened and didn’t have time to process. After making calls and settling his affairs things began to slow down. For about a day. Then my mom landed in the hospital with a herniated disc. She has been living and healing at my house the past three weeks.

A vacation and another loss. The loss of a person whom I’ve known for two years. A fighter. A bright spirit. Someone taken too too soon. Her children left behind to grow up without her. Makes me wonder how such a strong, courageous, caring human being could be taken when the person who flips me off while passing and cutting me off on the highway is still here.

For those of you keeping score, that’s three losses in six months.

My chin is up, I’m enjoying the warmth and freedom that summer brings and trying to pull my life together. I’m changing my perspective and feelings on a lot of things. I’m looking at things differently. I’m concentrating on the silver linings. On the happiness and being thankful for everything and everyone I have in my life.

Hug those who you care about. Be thankful and love the life you have.

Here’s an update on my dad…

His jaundice had gotten much worse on Thursday and his legs were swelling. He had finally gotten an appointment to get the biopsy a week from Thursday. It felt so far away, especially as I watched him look and feel worse. I made an appointment for him on Friday morning. During that appointment, the doctor decided he needed to go into the hospital for additional care. The doctor said if he continued the way he was, he wouldn’t be able to handle the biopsy by Thursday. All I could think was “DUH People! He needs medical attention and you aren’t moving.”

At the same time, I felt like I was living a nightmare. I never thought I’d ever see my dad so helpless and so sick. This is a guy who has seen a doctor about six times in the past 30 years. He’s tough. He’s invincible. He’s my dad.

We took him to the hospital on Friday and a whirlwind of tests and doctors started flying. He had three MRI’s, a bone scan and the biopsy. He was really exhausted from all the tests but at least he was getting attention and they were looking at all angles.

On Friday we also met a doctor whom I’ve dubbed “Doctor Death.” Doctor Death has no hope, not a lot of tact and gets emotional when she talks to us. Her only real answer to all our questions is a tearful “just remember, every day is a gift.” She gives no hope and just tells us to focus on today. She has also told us that treatment isn’t always the best option. Sometimes, it shortens or decreases quality of life for the patient. Even my dad has said, he feels like she has given him less than a week to live every time she talks to him.

My dad’s nurse mentioned to us that she overheard Doctor Death telling us prognosis and she felt Doctor Death didn’t handle it well.

In walks Doctor Hope. Doctor Hope is/was my dad’s oncologist for the weekend. Unfortunately he is only filling in for the weekend and we start over with a different oncologist tomorrow.

Doctor Hope does not paint a rosy picture of rainbows and happiness for us. But he does something that puts a crack in the clouds and helps us feel stronger…he gives us just a tiny bit of hope. There’s a small chance my dad will be able to try treatment. The treatment won’t cure the cancer, but it may slow the growth or even shrink it. There is a chance it won’t help at all and there is a chance that my dad won’t be able to tolerate it. But it sits out there waiting for him. It’s something to look forward to. It’s something that makes me focus on hope for my dad, rather than just focusing on losing him.

Yes, I will lose him. I just hope to keep him around as long as I can. Every day is a blessing. At this point, even hearing he has 6 months or 3 months gives me hope.

This can’t be happening.

We are all still in shock, including my dad. None of us can make sense of someone who ate healthy, exercised regularly and was seemingly fine about a month ago being so sick and in so much pain so fast.

Here’s what we know so far (I will try to keep my blog updated).

He has Stage Four cancer. They believe it began in his kidney and has spread to his liver, his lymph nodes and bones. It’s aggressive. They are going to try to put in a stent in his kidney on Monday to help it drain to help the jaundice. If he can get rid of the jaundice, they will look at some treatment options. Chemo doesn’t seem to work on kidney cancer. It’s too wide spread for radiation so they are hoping to do a treatment that involves a pill that will hopefully shrink or slow down the cancer.

He had a fever tonight when we left so we are hoping there isn’t an infection or something else brewing.

My dad has been complaining about injuring his shoulder and then his back since early March. He didn’t know what he had done to hurt himself, but the pain was immense. He reached a point two weeks ago that the pain was more than he could tolerate anymore and went to Urgent Care. They x-rayed him, told him he has the joints of a 45-year-old and told him to rest. A few days later on a Saturday, he was back, because the pain was not lessening.

They gave him some Vicadin, said he had back strain and sent him home. On Monday, he returned, explaining that he had run through his prescription. At this point, an alert trauma nurse practioner noticed he was also yellow. Back strain doesn’t make you yellow. The doctor thought he may have hepatitis. I quickly did research. Two bad kinds, one kind that is fully recoverable. Scary but I’d go with Hep A. If he had that, the description said it takes about three months to recover. I thought, three months…that’s a long time to have him not feeling good. It would take him into the summer until he was up and running again.

He went back in on Tuesday for an ultrasound and lab work. Then he was scheduled for a CT scan on Wednesday. Now, the doctors suspected a blocked bile duct in his liver. Not Hepatitis, good, but would he have to have surgery to get it unplugged? What would this entail for recovery? At least it was curable and fixable.

I met my parents at the medical office for the CT scan. I had seen my dad the previous Saturday. He looked pained,  yellow and very weak. He had gone down a lot in five days. It was scary. I wanted them to find the blockage and get him feeling better and fast. I had just lost a friend to liver failure and I could tell he was going septic.

I made arrangements with my mom to babysit my dad the next day. I didn’t think he should be alone in case he didn’t feel well or if he needed emergency attention. He was not well.

Thursday.

My mom and my dad both called me independent of each other to tell me a miracle had happened over night. The pain had stopped. My dad told me I didn’t need to come over anymore. He was feeling better and on the mend. I decided to come visit anyway. I wanted to make sure he was still going to go back for follow up to make sure what had blocked would stay unblocked. Again, research online the night before had taught me about a liver disease where bile ducts plug and unplug until the liver becomes very damaged and requires a transplant. I was ready to put my name on the transplant list if it was needed.

Then the doctor’s office called. They would see him over the lunch hour. When we got there, I learned he didn’t have an actual appointment. We were told it isn’t hepatitis or a blockage.

It is cancer.

Cancer of the kidney. And it looks like it is metastasizing and moving outside of his kidneys. The rest of the conversation revolved around getting a biopsy to then work on prognosis and treatment. They also told my dad he needed to gather his family and discuss next steps. He needed to make sure all of his affairs were in order. He needed to name a medical power of attorney. A prognosis plan. Would he want hospice? There wasn’t anything about positive outlooks or treatment. It was all about making decisions on how he wanted it all to end.

I felt cold. I wanted to throw up, run out of the room, hug him, cry, deny and crawl under the covers and hide. I had to be strong for my dad. For the first time in my life, he wasn’t stronger than me. I was the strong one.

I asked questions, listened to everything that was said, tried to retain as much as I could while trying to find my way back to the beginning of the day when the miracle had occurred and he was better.

We walked out of the doctor’s office in shock. He turned to me and said “I guess my mother will outlive me. I never thought I would get cancer.”

He’s right. Cancer does not run in my family. Most everyone I know on my dad’s side has died from old age. My grandmother is 93 and just graduated from hospice.

I drove him home. I walked him to the door, but it was obvious we both needed some time alone to absorb and try and make sense of what had just happened.

I called my husband and brother and worked to lure my mom home so we could tell her. The rest of that day was full of tears. Full of family. Full of realizations.

I didn’t eat dinner. I had skipped lunch. I went home and finally threw up. I have had a series of challenges and stressful events occur this year. This just blew everything away. It’s amazing how something like this makes everything else that seems so big so small.

I tried to imagine life without my dad. Tried to imagine what the next few months hold. I crawled inside myself. I did my best to ignore and deny but it wouldn’t go away. It was there when I woke up in the middle of the night. It was there when I stared out the window. When I drove my car. It was always there. I couldn’t make this go away.

I felt a little better Saturday as I prepped for the Easter Bunny’s visit. I felt like I briefly stepped out of the nightmare and back into life. But just as quickly as I had rejoined my life, I ran from it again. I couldn’t research anything online. I began sobbing inconsolably at the mention of “my dad.” I couldn’t eat. I just couldn’t function. I would shake and feel sick. I felt like I was watching my life instead of participating. I didn’t know how to deal with this.

When something happens in my life, I talk. Ask my husband. I talk and talk and dissect and analyze every piece. I couldn’t talk about this. I couldn’t call friends. Couldn’t talk to family. The only thing that kept me out of bed was my parents and my girls. I had to keep going for them.

I had no idea I would lose my ability to cope with this type of news. I’m not completely naive. My parents are getting up there in age. I have thought about what would happen when they are gone. Somehow, I never thought I’d actually get to that point.

Everyday I’ve made a little progress towards acceptance.

Yesterday I felt a little better. I ate a little bit. I did a little bit of research while tears streamed from my eyes. I learned there is some hope.

Today I was back at my job. Back at shuttling my girls to and from school. Back to responding to emails and working on projects. My dad is also a bit stronger. Pain and jaundice have eased a bit.

Today I rejoined my life. I found myself again.

Now, I’m ready for the fight.

A friend of mine, one of the mom’s from my daughter’s school, passed away in January. She and I weren’t terribly close but I did love her and miss her every day.

Last December, she showed me that her eyes were yellow and made a comment that it was just so weird and the doctor didn’t know what was causing it. I’m not well versed in diagnosis and disease, thought it was odd, and didn’t think much of it. We were also at school at the time, helping in the classroom. It was busy and I barely had a chance to say hi let alone chat.

Dee and I met when her son and my daughter began kindergarten 2 1/2 years ago. They were instant friends and we chatted a lot while waiting for school to get out. Last year, we were room moms together.

Dee wasn’t real open with her life, but then again, neither am I. I keep a lot private and don’t show many people what’s truly inside. She would give hints that maybe her life wasn’t perfect, but the rest of the time, she worked hard to make it appear to be.

When we all came back from Christmas break, I didn’t see her. Not totally unusual and I was busy and distracted and I figured she was too. About three weeks into the new year, I really missed Dee. I decided I would call her and catch up when I had a chance. We were also supposed to get together over the holidays, but it just didn’t happen.

The next night, I received a call from a mutual friend of ours asking me if I knew if Dee was ok, because her had been mom picking up her son since the break. I wasn’t worried, and said we would have to corner Dee’s mom the next day at school to see what was up. Tori had a bad feeling and called over to Dee’s house. She called me right back saying Dee had been very sick the past few weeks and was in hospice with less than 48 hours to live.

Shock. Cold chills. Disbelief.

How? When? Why? Not possible.

We jumped in the car and drove to the hospice at 9:30 that night to say goodbye. I was living a nightmare. I felt like throwing up. I couldn’t deal. I wanted to run. But I knew I would never forgive myself for not saying goodbye to Dee. I was given the chance and I had to take it no matter how difficult. For her and for me.

The next two days were whirlwind. I was in a fog. I focused on the kids. All the kids who knew Dee, were touched by her as a preschool teacher and a very active mom at school. I tried to work with the school to get grief counselors in for the kids. Made calls to friends that I knew would want to say goodbye.

Then the call came and Dee was gone. Other than tearing up a few times, I hadn’t cried at all. I wasn’t going to allow myself to grieve, because it simply wasn’t happening. I went to her funeral feeling afraid to cry and afraid not to. During the service, I teared up. I felt incredibly sad. I watched as her son, husband and mother sat there and survived.

Her son. He was the love of her life. He was everything to her. How could she leave him to fend in this world without her. How would he fend in this world without her?

The service ended and we stood in line to give our condolences to her family. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’m shy and I had barely met her husband and mother. When it was my turn, instead of comforting them, I could barely breathe. I fell apart. Telling them through gasps, tears and short breaths that I would miss her smile, her energy and her amazing loving spirit.

Everyday since, I think about her. I miss her. As I park my car at school and walk up to the classroom door, I miss her so much. I see her son and want to cry. I want to hug him and tell him I’m here for him. I want to tell him that he will make it through and that his mother loved him so much. I don’t, because he’d probably think I was a crazy person.

I miss her. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about her. It sounds silly, but I want to write on her Facebook page and tell her I miss her. Damn Facebook continues to ask me if I want to catch up with her, share the latest news, find her some friends. She is constantly in my friend reminder window.

Yes Facebook, I would like to share the latest news. Do you have a way to do that or do you just enjoy torturing me?

I wish I could talk to her just one more time. Take in her smile and the twinkle in her eye. Tell her that no matter what, I’m here for her and her family.

And give her a hug.

I will continue with more about her passing and how I’m working through it in another post later this week.

Not long after that, I found another. And another. Every time I looked, I had twice as many as I had had the last time. I decided this was the time to start experimenting with hair color. I went dark brown. I tried light brown. Red. Dark Purple. Nothing too crazy but it was all experimental and fun.

Then I lost interest and let it grow out. The greys started showing up with a vengeance. I realized if I was going to look my age (mid-twenties) I was going to have to make hair coloring a regular thing. By the time I reached 30 and had my first daughter, I could tell by my roots that the beautiful auburn was gone. Completely replaced with grey. If I laxed, I would get a skunk stripe along my part. Not attractive. With a new baby, job and more I didn’t have time to keep up with it. I tried to part it differently, tilt my head backward when talking to people, and more until I had a chance to cover it up. I didn’t like it, but it was a part of life for me. If it grew out a little too much, life didn’t end. I’d get to it when I could get to it.

I even had a person that I worked with at the time tell me he had noticed something about me when we had both attended a party over one weekend. He said it was something he was going to use to hurt me when he needed to in the future. Yes, he was mean and he sucked. I was tortured by this threat. I couldn’t figure out what he had figured out about me that would hurt me at an opportune moment. Finally, he told me he had noticed I needed to color my hair. He saw grey roots. THE HORROR! I laughed and was so relieved. Grey hair? Seriously. Ew ouch. That hurts. Whatever.

Because I had gone grey so young, it never really bothered me. I enjoyed renewing myself every 6-8 weeks and putting on a fresh color. I don’t enjoy the process, but I love the results. I still slightly vary my hair color every time I color it.

I have had grey hairs all my adult life. My paternal grandmother shared that she had begun to go grey at 18 too. You can’t mess with genetics. Now that I’m approaching the end of my thirties, I know several women that have begun to find greys and are having a hard time handling the change. It is a sign of growing older. I saw the sign about 20 years ago. I’m not ashamed or upset by my greys. They are a part of me. Sure I cover them up, I don’t want to look old. But I’m not affected by them like other women my age.

As I get older, I get more comfortable with who I am. I’m figuring it all out. But not everything. I still have a long way to go on my journey. I just hope I can handle the wrinkles, the reading glasses, the age spots, the aches and pains and the rest of the aging process as well as I live with my grey.

I’m the city editor for Denver Savvy Source. I held a contest to give away tickets to Disney on Ice this week in Denver. I put the wrong venue on my article. Ugh. Not only that, but my winner went to that wrong venue to claim her winning tickets. She was devastated, her kids were devastated and they missed the show.

She contacted me the next morning and my heart ripped out. I felt horrible. Awful. I wished I could turn back the clock and make it right for them. As a mom, I know what it’s like to handle that kind of disappointment with your children. It’s heart wrenching. Did I mention I felt awful?

Of course I had excuses for the mistake. I am a very detail-oriented person. Calendars up the wazoo, to do lists, planning, scheduling, double checking. I live my details. But when I posted this article, I was distracted. There’s a lot going on in my life right now…we’ve just put our first house on the market. Scary? Yes. Stressful? Immensely. I lost a good friend suddenly recently. There’s all the other life stresses and other issues to keep up with. And I’m working on overcoming a huge hurt. Auto pilot and out to lunch is an understatement.

That doesn’t excuse sending a family to the wrong location.

Fortunately, the Disney people are good people. Great people. They gave my winner a VIP ticket package for tonight. Thank you Disney…you prove once again that you are a class act.

For anyone in Denver who wants to see Disney on Ice it’s at the Denver Coliseum. Yes, I’ve doubled, triple and quadruple checked my facts. It’s at the Denver Coliseum March 10th-14th. And then it moves to the Budweiser Events Center in Loveland from March 18th-21st. Go to the Ticketmaster website for showtimes and ticket prices.

Discount Code:
Purchase a 4-pack of tickets for only $44 for weekday performances or receive $4 off weekend tickets by entering the code: MOM4 at: www.Ticketmaster.com or call 1-800-745-3000

(Minimum purchase of 4 tickets required for 4-pack; additional tickets above 4 can be purchased at $11 each.Offer not valid on Front Row or VIP seating. Cannot be combined with other offers. Service charges and handling fees will apply.)

Just to pour salt in my wounds…I had been looking forward to this show for months. I’ve heard it’s one of the best Disney ice shows out there. But my children have been sick and I came down with it in time for the show Wednesday. My family missed the show. The wonderful Disney people offered us additional tickets for tonight, but it didn’t work with scheduling. Disney is a class act.

I agree with both of them. Class sizes are getting out of control. If a teacher must handle a lot of children during the day, they spend more time chasing and less time teaching. I’m not a teacher but I’m the product of two teachers. My mom still teaches preschool today. I’ve volunteered in my daughter’s classroom. This doesn’t make me an expert, but it has opened my eyes to the difficulties teachers face.

In a class of 20 children, you are going to have 20 different personalities, disciplines, home lives, places in their learning and maturing. Different learning styles and different personalities. When my daughter was in kindergarten, the class always hinged on out of control. Her kindergarten teacher was in her first year of teaching and kept the children in line. But she spent a huge amount of time getting one to sit down, another to focus on their book, another to listen and so on and so on.

So much of the class time was spent keeping control, the learning felt secondary. There were three to four of the children that took the greatest amount of the teacher’s time. These were also the students I could see falling behind later in school. Being brushed aside because they didn’t focus or learn as quickly as the others. They weren’t bad children, they didn’t get enough of what they needed at home or they had a learning disability or they just weren’t maturing as quickly as their peers. They just needed more time and energy from the teacher.

This of course was kindergarten and now in second grade, the same children still need an extra push, but fortunately my daughter’s school does a great job at giving extra attention to those who need extra attention and those who need extra challenges. They look at every student’s learning style and work to teach to it. Not something that happens at every school.

I agree with Joy in that class size is a very important factor in keeping control in the classroom. The more children a teacher must focus on, the less time they have to actually teach. Children need discipline, respect and boundaries at home that will transfer when they are out in the real world.

“I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will  receive a tote bag or other The View branded items to facilitate my  review.”

I had to watch her guest co-host on The View today.

The ladies were discussing Barbara Walter’s final pre-Oscar celebrity special. On it she interviews Mo’Nique and Sandra Bullock. Both said their husbands were very important forces in their lives. Mo’Nique said she believed in open marriage. I can strongly state that I don’t believe in open marriage for myself. I can’t see how allowing others into your bond, your partnership, your family could possibly strengthen it over weaken it. But hey, if it works for Mo’Nique, I’m not judging.

As for having a supportive, life changing husband, I agree with. Mine is my rock. He is my best friend, my shoulder to cry on, a partner to laugh with. He above all, supports me in everything I do, even if he doesn’t agree with it. He will tell me the pants I have on make me look fat or if I have a booger. This is all good. I’d rather look ridiculous in front of him, because I know he loves me, even with a booger in my nose, instead of in front of the harsh public. I definitely don’t need people laughing at my atomic wedgie behind me in the mall.

I only hope I come close to being as strong for him as he is for me. I’m not sure I will ever attain that status. I will, however, always let him know he has a booger. Snickering included.

Thanks D for being my wonderful, dear husband. You have brightened my life in countless ways since we met and I don’t know what I would do without you.

If you missed my BFF Valerie on The View, you can watch the episode on ABC.Go.com.

I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will receive a tote bag or other The View branded items to facilitate my review.

I have always enjoyed Joy Behar and her insightful comments. I haven’t had a chance to check out her new show, maybe I should put that on my DVR too.

The View made it’s best decision by bringing on Whoopi Goldberg. I have always been a fan of Whoopi, but find her voice of reason on The View so refreshing, positive and most importantly true. Whoopi speaks not to politics, politicians or what’s polite. She says it as it is, doesn’t hold punches and puts it out there. Maybe Whoopi should run for public office.

Joy and Whoopi are my favorites, but I love all the girls, their Hot Topics and guests. I can’t wait to hear what will be discussed each day on The View.

Now you can win a trip to New York City with a friend to watch a taping of The View. Fill out the Mom Central survey by February 28th for a chance to win.

For a schedule or more on The View, check out their website.

I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will receive a tote bag or other The View branded items to facilitate my review.