What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Summer's are for leaving Phoenix as much as possible, it's true, but we are outdoing ourselves this year. Quinn is fond of saying we have to leave or we'll burn up (which might not be far off of the truth). One friend on Twitter asked me if I was moving based on this photo I posted about leaving northern California.

Flamingo Hotel (aka the Dirty Bird), Santa Rosa. Leaving town today and I'm not sure when we'll be back, which is weird for me... but must be completely surreal for my husband, who's called this town home for 34 years.

A photo posted by Jen Campisano (@jencampisano) on Aug 13, 2015 at 8:59am PDT

No, is the answer. We don't have any plans to move anytime soon. As much as I love northern California, we were there to say farewell to my husband's childhood home, not put down roots (although I have to say those Santa Rosa roots look good on us).

In Santa Rosa, we cried and reminisced and told stories about my mother-in-law's giant heart and proclivity for ice cream and possible hoarder tendencies. We hugged family and old family friends and I tried not to think of how many memorials I've attended in the last several years (too many). We packed up memories and memorabilia stored in a house full of love and a lot of pigs (we could have started a pig museum). We sent a few items with sentimental value home to Phoenix and helped Chris's brother get the house ready to be sold. We said good-bye.

Before Santa Rosa, Quinn and I traveled up to Seattle for some healing time in a place that always soothes my soul, with people who never fail to fill our hearts to overflowing. Chris had a work trip to Mexico so I took the opportunity to leave town as well. We hiked to a waterfall where Q accidentally took a dip in a creek and told me the water was "as cold as that time we went to the snow with Grandma Maryann!" How's that for the opposite of Phoenix?

We rode the ferry up to Vancouver Island, where we built castles out of shells and identified whale bones on the beach and made brownie sundaes with Chris's Aunt Kathie (who always knows how to cheer us up).

Photo taken by Quinn!

We went to the top of the Space Needle, and I fell in love with my home state all over again. I drank a lot of coffee (I've heard it's good for the liver). And we roasted marshmallows to make s'mores and celebrated my best friend Alana's birthday as she and I realized we've been leaning on each other and reading each other's minds for more than two decades now. 

I came home practically begging Chris for a place in Seattle (even despite this article). He said I just need to sell my book. I'm working on that. 

After a blissful week in the northwest and an emotional week in Santa Rosa, we drove south east, my husband tells me, to Sacramento for my college friends' reunion -- which this year included 25 of us, eleven of whom were preschoolers ranging in age from eleven months to five years old. It was blissful in its own way, filled with the giggles and cries and overall adorableness of children who are forging the next generation of friendships amongst my tribe. It's pretty special to see.

I've been absent here because I've been really present among some of my favorite people, something I've learned the importance of over and over again the past four years. There is nothing quite like bookending a memorial service for your mother-in-law with separate visits with your best friends and their children for helping your heart heal.

I am so lucky to have such special people in my life (and fortunate that I've been healthy enough and have the means to travel to see them). I hope I don't take that for granted. I hope you all know how much joy and peace and promise you bring to my life. Thanks a million times over for that.

We got home Sunday night, in time for me to return to reality (and chemo) yesterday. As I put it on one Instagram post, "Home from a beautiful, soul-restoring trip to California that broke our hearts and then mended them in the most beautiful way, surrounded by the love of family and friends who are basically family. We are so blessed."

And today, I got to see Quinn off to his first day of his last year of preschool. Maybe it's the steroids, but I was pretty choked up this morning. I am so grateful to be here, to witness this. Four years ago, when I was diagnosed (cancerversary coming up tomorrow), I didn't quite think it would be possible. I repeat: I am so very lucky.

The Color of Forgiveness

I'm sitting here looking at my Mother's Day cards from Quinn -- one store-bought that starts "Dear Mommy, Thank you for tucking me in...", one handmade with a crooked heart drawn on the front. And I'm crying all over my kitchen table. I hugged Quinn extra hard at preschool drop-off today, his last day before the school year ends.

***

In the last few weeks, our family has been facing the continuing decline of Chris's mom's health, which has meant Chris has been traveling up to northern California to spend time with her every other week. Between Chris's travels and my time in DC, we've hardly spent any time together as a family in a month.

Quinn and I FaceTime with Grandma Maryann a bit, when she's feeling up for it, but Chris doesn't want how she's doing now to be Quinn's memory of her, so it's unlikely the two of us will see her in person anytime soon.

At school, Quinn drew a picture for me for Mother's Day, two stick figures holding hands. He tells me, "Mommy, that's me and you!" But on closer inspection, I realize both faces are frowning.

"Why do we have unhappy faces, buddy?" I ask.

"Because we're sad about Grandma."

Oh.

***

All of this apart-ness and upheaval and emotion has certainly taken a toll on Quinn. He's alternately sweet as can be or acting out, defiant about every single thing I ask him to do lately, whether it's brushing teeth or turning off the TV or not running away from me in a crowded grocery store.

Yesterday, as I was driving Quinn to a new park to play with his friend Sydney, I was trying to focus on where the map was telling me to turn, trying to find parking, trying to communicate with Sydney's mom about where to meet without taking my eyes off the road, and Quinn -- in his utter and complete excitement about seeing Sydney -- would not stop asking me, every thirty seconds, how much longer we had until we got there. "Quinn! Can you please be quiet so I can focus on the road?" I asked him more than once, then felt a stab of guilt for being an asshole.

At school drop-off and pick-up the last few weeks, I find my conversations with other moms gravitating toward how tough this age is. This age being 2 to 4? 5? We wonder when it gets easier, joke that we need happy hour at three in the afternoon, talk about pulling our hair out. And even as I participate, I know better. I know how precious this life is, what little (if any) time any of us are guaranteed, how -- difficult or ornery we might all be on occasion -- my time with my boys is everything.

***

This morning, with Chris back in town, I went for a hike. I was heavy-limbed and clumsy. I twisted my ankle (it's fine) and felt unsure of my steps a good portion of the way. Eventually, battered and out of breath and frustrated, I made it to the top.

The top.

A photo posted by Jen Campisano (@jencampisano) on May 18, 2015 at 8:17am PDT

Back down the mountain, my head clearer than it had been in days, I checked my phone and got the punch-to-the-gut news that my friend and sorority sister Jenny's six-year-old son Michael died last night. It wasn't so much a surprise as it was a stark reminder of the brevity of our lives.

Michael had been diagnosed with a rare brain tumor a week before he started kindergarten last fall. Kindergarten.

That one pretty much takes the cake for cruelty, Universe.

And yet, Jenny and her family did not approach Michael's cancer with anger or bitterness. They celebrated his life. They spoke out to raise awareness about (and a lot of money toward) childhood brain cancer. They made to-do lists and checked them off every day, a tally of their accomplishments together as a family.

At his memorial later this week, they're encouraging everyone to wear yellow, Michael's favorite color. Yellow, the color of sunshine and hope, optimism and new beginnings. The color of forgiveness.

So, in Michael's honor, forgive yourselves, parents, for the occasional times when you're not doing your best. Then go hug your kiddos a little closer, a little tighter. You could probably both use it.

You can read more about Michael's inspiring story here and I encourage you to make a donation to the fund created in his honor by clicking here. 

And I'll close with Jenny's own words from that Huffington Post article:

Jenny said she wants to remind parents to "enjoy every precious moment" with their children.

"The truth is that I often complained about how hard it is to be a parent," she said. "I do not back away from that sentiment -- I still think it is hard -- but I wish that in some of the moments when I was feeling overwhelmed or frustrated, I had the perspective to know that I was the luckiest person on the planet to have those kids driving me crazy."

Sorry, Honey, My Warranty Is Expired

I haven't had strep throat since I was in middle school, the year I had my tonsils out. The surgery was preceded by seven (yes SEVEN) bouts of strep and/or tonsillitis, so at the first sign of health, I was scheduled for surgery. I didn't have another surgery (or even hospitalization for any reason) for TWENTY years.

Then, as Chris says, I started falling apart. Ha. Hahahaha.

Case in point: I had chemo this week, which was fine. I even went for a hike on Wednesday. I was feeling great, I thought!

Then that night I was hit with a fever, chills, and inability to swallow without feeling like I was being stabbed. I've got fatigue that has me winning sleep trends on my Up24 (not so much actual fitness, alas). And a self-diagnosis of strep (confirmed as "likely" by my oncologist's assistant) led to my second Z-Pack in as many months.

I no longer have the fever or chills, but am still holding on to the fatigue and sore throat. Why is there no place to put "I'm sick" in my Up tracking? Instead, my "smart coach" keeps encouraging me to take more steps if I want any chance of reaching the suggested 10,000 per day. I'm not just sitting on my ass because I'm lazy, guys.

Still, I am the worst at being sick, whether my smart coach is goading me to move or not. I want to go to yoga, but won't, because I don't want to get anyone else sick lest my antibiotics haven't kicked in yet. Also, who am I kidding? Down dog when you have a headache is decidedly NOT fun. I should probably just take a nap, but keep thinking there must be something I'm not marking off my to-do list that I should while I've got a quiet day.

I want to do a tutorial on my eyebrows but haven't figured out the logistics yet. I thought about talking about capsule wardrobes, but here's the gist: I cleaned out my closet, which isn't all that exciting. I love to cook and was thinking of doing a series on foods to help you get past chemo but then our stove broke (again) and I haven't had an appetite this week because it is so very, very painful to swallow. Maybe I'll do a series on smoothies?

Or maybe I will just nap, after all.

Kidding. Off to the grocery store. Because someone in this house still has an appetite.