Sleeping Beauty

Tanner's been sleeping. A lot.

For a few months now, Tan has been sleeping 18 to 20 hours a day, all hours of the day, day or night. Sleeping Beauty we're calling him. And if he's waiting on his princess in shining armor, Siri has apparently steered her in the wrong direction, because she hasn't arrived to wake him.

Sure wish she would. Because this big sleep has cost Tanner a lot.

Two weeks ago, I had the conversation I'd been dreading with Tanner's guidance counselor at school. The weeks and weeks of absences have become too long, and together with the missed credits of past semesters, there's no way he can begin to garner enough credit to finish high school this semester. We have to delay Tan's graduation until fall, with the hope that he'll have the energy to do summer school and take some additional courses online in the fall so he can graduate with a diploma.

Mike and I had worried we might be facing this eventuality so we began talking with Tanner a few months ago about the possibility of a delayed graduation, and how in the grand scheme, a few months extra of high school would eventually be just a blip on the radar. We discussed it with Tan a couple times and got him used to the idea, so if the decision came down he wouldn't be blindsided. I'm glad we took that approach because he wasn't blindsided. He was level headed and pragmatic and sought to reassure us that it was fine, it was no big deal, he understood.

I don't understand.

I don't understand why my sweet boy, who has been through so much and struggled so hard and overcome so many things, now has yet one more reminder of the cost of having chronic kidney disease. The cost of his body struggling to keep his kidneys functioning, at the expense of all other systems. Like the system, for instance, that supports consciousness.

Hyperfiltration is likely the culprit here. Tanner's docs believe he's probably been in hyperfiltration for at least a few years now. Simply put, his kidneys are sprinting, and they have been for a long time. When kidneys are diseased, sometimes they go into this overdrive state. You and I, who presumably have normally functioning kidneys, move along at a steady pace for most our lives, with our kidneys humming along at an equally steady pace that allows them to last the 80 or so years that the average American lives these days. Tan's kidneys, on the other hand, have been engaged in a breakneck sprint for a long time just to support basic functions like filtering his blood, his urine and every other substance that finds its way to these workhorse organs.

But we all know that sprinting can't be sustained for long. Think of the Olympic sprinter vs. the distance runner. Sprinters go all out for 100, 200 hundred yards then collapse; distance runners go for miles. Tan's kidneys have been sprinting for miles and miles and miles, for years.

And his body is tired.

His body is putting its energies toward keeping his kidneys functioning properly, and thankfully, they are. They're doing their job, for now. But with time, it seems, his body has gotten to the point that it's now saying, "OK, I can focus on Tan's kidneys, but that means there are other things I can't get to. Like sending energy to his limbs, keeping his blood pressure in check, and propping his eyes open. I can only do so much; and for now, his kidneys need me. Now back off and let me get back to work."

I understand this is the work his body has to do, and I'm grateful it's rallying to the degree it is. Very grateful.

But, I'm also so tired of the cost.

I'm tired of all that this disease has cost Tanner. Early on, Tanner had to let go of football and P.E. He'd just started wrestling when he had to undergo immunosuppressive treatment that wiped out his immune system, so he couldn't be in such close, sweaty contact or lose weight. When the steroid treatments caused muscle wasting, he couldn't climb stairs, let alone lift weights. In April, he was to perform at Carnegie Hall.  Carnegie Hall. Now, he won't. He has lost out on time with friends; countless family and social functions; and normal, regular, day-to-day living. For years.

We've been lucky to have so many wonderful teachers, administrators, friends and family on our side these past 8 years. People have known Tan's story and supported him and us.  It was alarming, therefore, to encounter a teacher recently who was speaking pretty flippantly and contemptuously about Tan in front of her class. Those who know me know I'm not an unreasonable person; I'm pretty even keeled. So I stayed kind and even keeled when I talked with the teacher. I tried to help her better understand Tan's condition; the fact that when he's not down for the count, he can look pretty darn healthy, so it's understandable she might be confused by looking at him to realize just how tenuous his situation can be at times.

She called into question a photo she'd seen of him with friends, because she hadn't seen him in school. I have a mother who worked for school districts for decades, so I absolutely understand and respect that such a scenario can raise eyebrows, what with all the hooky playing that goes on and whatnot.  I explained to the teacher the circumstances surrounding that photo: Tanner had gone to school on a Thursday morning, though he didn't feel well at all. He made it half a day, then he came home and went to bed, where he slept through until early Friday evening. He awoke, he ate and went back to bed until Saturday evening; ditto on Sunday. Come 5p on Sunday, he woke up, showered, went to a friend's house for an hour so he could be there when she opened a letter telling her where she would serve a volunteer mission for her church; a picture was snapped; he came home and went back to bed. And slept through till Monday evening.  The picture the teacher called out in front of the class represented one hour in a four day period that Tanner left our home.

To the degree I explained above, I get it. (I'm not too hot on the fact that she was discussing it with the whole class, but we'll just put a pin in that for now.)  She didn't know much of Tanner's back story. And, when Tan is well enough to go to school, or parties, or church, or friends' houses, he puts a great face on it. He has a fantastic attitude, doesn't talk about his situation much, and is generally, for lack of a better word, normal.  He doesn't always look like he's been hit by a truck. Thankfully, he doesn't always feel that way either. But a lot of the time he does.

Tan doesn't complain much to others, and he doesn't complain much to us. Which is why recently it broke my heart a little when he said kinda shamefacedly, "I know this might sound weird, but sometimes it sucks that I don't always look sick, because I think people who haven't known me as long kind of wonder."  And then he apologized, and said he didn't mean to sound like he was complaining.

Let me insert a note right here to say that Tanner is a real kid, and I'm a real mom, and we have plenty of real moments of typical, boneheaded behavior on both our parts. I'm not glorifying Tan; I want to flick him on the forehead plenty of times. But I'm telling you, on this count -- this huge count that has so much impact on so many facets of his life -- he is something else. He doesn't rage and he doesn't whine about his plight. I'd be fine if he did occasionally, but he doesn't.

And, normally, I don't carry on and whine about it, either. I do count my blessings. I am filled with gratitude that he's still here and in so many ways is doing so well. I do know that we have been abundantly blessed over and over again, and I continue to be sincerely grateful. I'm practical, I don't borrow trouble, I don't wallow.

But there are times when it just causes my heart to hurt. To physically, painfully, ache. Because my beautiful 18-year-old son is still sleeping while there is so much of life to be lived. And I want more for him than that. I want him to fall into bed exhausted because he stayed out way too late or played way too hard.  I want him to sleep too late on a Saturday because he's a lazy teenager, then I can get irritated because I need him to get his hiney out of bed to do chores.   I want life to tire him out, not a disease his body is fighting valiantly against.

I want him to get to be 18 -- outside, during the day, with friends, at school. I want him to not have to put on a brave face, be a great sport, reassure worried moms that he's ok.

Tomorrow I'll put my own brave face back on, and I'll put gratitude before sorrow. And instead of counting the cost, I'll again count our many, many blessings.

But for tonight, I'll brush the brow of my slumbering child, then climb into bed and again pray for a cure.

Sleep tight, Sleeping Beauty.

Dammit, Siri, get it together.

Love from the city,
Teri

Don't Blink

Things change fast on the farm.

Take for instance, Cher. Remember how just 72 hours or so ago I wrote about her being cooped up with Sonny, the promise of little Bonos, her staying power?

 Yep, not 18 hours after I posted that little intro, Cher flew the coop. Up and left. Headed out on a solo career. Leaving Sonny (and my dreams of crazy-haired babies) in the dust. We'd suspect a varmint or a coyote, except there's no evidence of either, no other birds have gone missing, and we saw one of the other ladies on top of the feed shed in the chicken yard. It's been awhile since we've had upwardly mobile chickens around here. I guess it's time for a little wing clipping party.

I had high hopes for Sonny and Cher. Dang creative types with their flightiness.

Then we had another change from just a few days ago. See the pretty red pan holding breakfast-for-dinner below?

It's no longer with us, either. Karlie broke it while doing dishes. It was part of a 3-pan set my Mom gave me last year. Grumble...grumble. Poor Karlie felt so bad Tanner actually offered to sweep up the mess for her. And if you knew the home dynamics between those two, you'd know why that was worth mentioning. I'll miss my red dish. I liked it a lot.

But with the bad comes the good.

Here are two happy events to keep our cosmic house in balance:

We have a new layer.

This is the first egg we've gotten from our new flock and I was so excited to see it this morning.

Almost as excited as I was to see this:

Look close and you'll see Autumn and Pheebs' new bunk mate. Autumn and Pheebs have been sharing a nest for weeks now and overnight or early this morning, their first duckling made its appearance. The Mamas are very nervous and protective, though, so I didn't get a good photo of the little peeper. Can't wait to see how many more they hatch. They have lots of eggs under them and they've been diligent nest warmers.

So, you lose some, you win some.

We're ending on a winning note for today.

Love from the farm,
Teri

What I Haven't Posted About

So, there are a few things I haven't posted about that I'll share now.

Mike's sweet Granny died this weekend. Oh, how we love Granny. She was this beautiful, smiling, engaged-in-our-lives lady who always had a gleam in her eye.

It's weird to use "was," "had," "loved."  I'm not sure I can quite say "loved" yet. We love her; we always will. She was 92 years of love. This picture of Mike and Granny was taken at her 90th birthday party. 90th!! Can you believe it? She was ageless and gracious.

 

Mike loved his Granny. He still does.

 

Tanner has pneumonia and it's caused his kidney disease to flare for the first time in a long time. We've postponed our departure for the funeral in the hope he stabilizes enough that I feel comfortable leaving him at Mom & Dad's while I accompany Mike and the other kids to Granny's service. I'm, of course, completely comfortable with the care he'd get at Mom & Dad's. I'm just not comfortable being away from him when he has so much going on.

This was Tanner without pneumonia, at one of his football games this fall, deep in remission, right where we like him.

This is Tanner rockin' a mullet during his show choir's "Rock of Ages" tribute performance. Yep, 80s music is the thing of elevator music and school choirs now. I don't feel old at all.

Adam's been here a few weeks and will be here a few weeks more before he heads to Utah to live, and begin his post-South Africa life. I'm very excited for him.

 

Here he is with cousin Megan and sister Macy at the Chinese Cultural Center in Phoenix.

 

Here he is with Mike at the mall. (Mike is Pops to Adam, but he's Mike to me.)

 

Here he is with Karlie, giving her a kiss on her 13th birthday.

 

Here he is with Macy lurking like a creeper behind him, and Sadie our sweet dog enjoying the summer heat. (When Adam left South Africa in August it was winter there. Flying into Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport in the blistering August heat represented a bit of atmospheric shock, I'll tell ya. Thankfully, in our high desert corner of Arizona, summer is a bit less punishing.)

 

This is Adam with Mike, Tanner and Macy, fresh off the plane from South Africa. I may or may not have breached the boundary stanchions and ropes in my eagerness to hug my sweet boy after his 2 years away.

 

 Dad had cancer last year, and he got through it with just fatigue. No other horrible side effects. He's so grateful to have it behind him; so am I.

He was a little tired when Macy and I picked him up from his two weeks of radiation in Sedona. (See that red mark? That's where they aimed the radiation 10 times. The spot's gone now; so is the cancer.)

 

Soon after we got him home, he was back in his garden, and all was well.

 

One of my dear, dear friends is having a baby after a struggle with infertility -- I'm so excited to meet miss Nora when she arrives in April! (I don't have a photo for this little note, obviously. Note the not arriving until April part.)

My sister's baby, Ellie, turned 8 on Christmas Eve and was baptized in January by Mike. I can't believe the baby of our family is not a baby anymore.

Finally, I am feeling good. Better than I have felt in years and years. It's fabulous. Right up until about 2 weeks ago, it had been some tough years of illness. Each day the past couple of weeks has felt better than the last and I am so grateful.  (Even with my fantastic fall in the chicken pen last week, which I am completely over by the way. All scabs are almost gone.)

I'm a little uncertain what to do with all the energy and good moods. But, I'm accepting it all greedily and loving it. And the kids and Mike are adjusting to my goofy extra energy. Well, they'll just have to adjust. Because I don't plan on giving it up.

And that's a synopsis some of the events that I don't necessarily write about, but they add the color and shadows to our lives here.

Love from the farm,
Teri

Pinsight

What mysteries, what secrets, what veiled dreams lie behind Macy's rose-tinted glasses? What can we say that we know about this 15-year-old inscrutable puzzle?

 

We are going to explore the answers to those questions and many more through use of interpretive dance and song.

 

Just kidding.

 

We're going to turn to snapshots I've captured on my phone over the past 6 months and lurk on her Pinterest boards to find the answers. Pinterest reveals so much about our personalities and inner desires...and in some cases our innards, I suppose, but we won't go there. Today.

Let's start with Macy's not so guarded secret: this girl may qualify as a bona fide ex pat, living right here in northern Arizona. See Pin #1:

 

London is calling and she is loathe to deny its pull.

 

Macy has lined out the itinerary of the trip she'll be taking with best mate cousin Megan following graduation in three years; and thanks to Adam's layover in London on his return flight from South Africa this summer, she has a map of London over which she pores, plotting the routes she'll take while visiting. In 2017.

 

Why the keen interest in all things London?

 

Well, let's return to Macy's pins to see what they reveal....

 

 

 



 

This pretty much says it all. Oh, Benedict Cumberbatch, you and your sneering witticisms have captured the heart, soul and every waking thought of my sweet daughter. She is intent on relating to you entirely when you meet, which surely will happen because Macy's mind is made up and you don't underestimate the power of this girl's determination.

 

In preparation for your meeting of the minds and matching of wits, Mr. Cumberbatch, she has honed her snarkiness to a fine, fine edge. This choice of pin reflects a good dose of self awareness:

 

 

 

It also reflects the restraint she employs to keep some of her hysterical observations and vanquishing quips to herself. Good girl. Moderation in all things. You have more than three years before you jet off to London; you'll need someone to talk to between now and then.

 

In spite of what restraint she may exhibit, it is still evident that the inside of her head looks like this pretty much every moment - waking or sleeping:

 

 

 

This is not to say Macy is one dimensional -- heavens, no.  This girl has many facets, and oh, how they shine. Often, however, the shine is a glint of mischief in her eye when she alights on some fantastic idea. Like this one for instance:

 

 

Yep, this happened. Macy discovered this on Pinterest, and it didn't take her long to convince me to help her give it a try with Karlie's tortoise Scooter. 

Have you heard of the great Pinterest fails? Well, this was one of them. We thought for sure this would be an easy little diapering job and allow us to let Scooter roam the house without fear of him leaving behind tiny piles of poo or miniature puddles. No such luck. Apparently the tortoise pictured above didn't have a tail, because Scooter's runty little tail was not about to abide this obstruction. Darn it. We thought it was sheer genius.

Now don't take my scrutiny of Macy's innermost musings as criticism. I didn't say I don't like how the girl thinks; I just admit it is a little off beat at times.

Speaking of off beat, Macy's heart is broken that these guys no longer have the beat, at least not with one another:

 

I daresay that she is as torn up over My Chemical Romance's split as I am at the prospect of George Strait announcing he won't be touring anymore. And that's saying a lot.

 

This is serious heartbreak, I tell you. True anguish. The below is wholly accurate:

 

 

I am confident if I listened in on her evening prayers, I'd hear an entreaty for a reunion tour.

Moving on to more Pinsights....

Macy isn't a big sports person. She'd like to participate in them, but we're still on that long road of managing her asthma to a point that she can exert without turning blue. In addition to not being a sports gal, she isn't much of a sports fan either. Reference the below Macy pin:

Enough said.

Macy can be a good sport, though. Take helping out around the farm.

Farming and gardening aren't really her thing. She'll do as she's asked and generally appear to endure to the end.

 

 

But the reality is, her true feelings about the whole thing are never far from the surface.

 

 

I believe her fingertips were caked with dirt here. It was apparently distressing.

 

It isn't that Macy doesn't like outside stuff. She likes outside.

 

See? Here she is liking outside with her cousin Megan up at Sundance in Utah.

 

And here she is liking outside with friends in Oak Creek Canyon near Sedona.

 

But working outside is a different story. She'll do it, and she'll do a good job. But she will find a way to make the work palatable so she can get through it.

It was admittedly a little disturbing that while helping me hand pollinate some zucchini plants that I thought were under producing (yeah, we can discuss that one later), her coping mechanism was to pretend to eat the little life producing pollen babies.

Whatever gets you through it, I guess. Ya weirdo.

I kid because this kid can take it. She is just the funniest, quickest, wholeheartedly proud, self-proclaimed nerd I know. As funny and quirky as this girl is, though, man, she's got some depths.

I love that she has boards filled with pins relating to how to raise happy, healthy children; organization and finance; dreams of travel and books she cherishes. And I love that sprinkled generously among her dreams and likes and recipes are gems like this one:

 

and this...

 

 

 and this...

 I love that she believes this without going completely over the top trying to prove it:

And, I love that she chooses to hold on to this idea:

 

 

And that the caption under this one read simply, "Remembering Boston."

 

 

I'm glad that this sentiment about integrity resonates with her:

 

 



And that she's decided this for herself:

 

 

 

 

But mostly, I love that at the end of the day, she knows what really matters:

 

 

 

That's my girl.

 

Love from the farm,

Teri

Soothing.

I don't feel well so I'm pulling out the big guns.

 

 

 

Ginger lemon tea with homemade honey.

 

It was when I got good and sick last winter I first found myself craving ginger. I'd never had it in my diet before, aside from the occasional ginger chew from Trader Joe's. But suddenly, there I was, feeling like I needed ginger.

 

I guess your body knows what it needs sometimes. Last night I suspected this would be a ginger tea morning and I was right.

 

Usually, I stick with ginger and honey. Today I added lemon juice to my cup. Not loving it like I do the ginger only show, but it's fine.

 

Are some of you still feeling quizzical about my reference to "homemade" honey? Is your brow a little crinkled with your questioning? Well, stop crinkling your brow, it'll cause wrinkles. Did you just widen your eyes and lift your eyebrows? OK, I'll go on then.

 

Yes, we have our very own homemade honey here on the farm, courtesy of Mike's mom. Well, courtesy of the bees Mike's mom brought to live at our place.

This beautiful little jar of honey is the result of lots of hard work pollen gathering in the garden and the alfalfa fields, carrying it back to the hive, and then doing whatever hoobie joobie shenanigans bees get up to inside those simple wooden boxes.

Did you know local honey is supposed to be fantastic for treating allergies? We're testing it out on Macy, our Princess of Allergy & Asthma Land. Sharron pressed the honey from the honeycomb and we encourage Macy to use it whenever she's reaching for honey, to see if we can start eliminating some of her allergies.

Just so you know what we're contending with, here's Macy's back at the allergists office five minutes after the nurse impregnated her skin with a whole host of typical plant, tree, animal and mold allergens to see what she reacted to.

And here it is after 15 minutes.

Turns out she's allergic to everything in the whole wide world.

I think it might take a while to tackle all these allergies.

We may need to get a few more bees.

Love from the farm,
Teri

A Quick Year In Review

OK, it hasn't really been a year since I've just shared a little about what's been going on around here, but it sure feels like it. So, we'll tell our stories in pictures.

And, sorry to those who snorted your morning beverage out your nose when you read the title of this little rumination. You and I both know that there's never anything quick about my musings. Sorry about that.

Here we go.

In no particular order.

Karlie and friend Kallee have been having lots of county fair fun this week. Kallee's pig won several big awards in the 4H competition and was sold at auction for $5 a pound. With a 309 lb pig, that's a nice little chunk of cha-hing for this 12 year old. These two and their aviators, along with Macy and Kallee's little brothers were loaded up to go on a picnic with my Mom today.

Awww, there's my girl's eyes. So cute our newly crowned 12 year old! Yes, our baby is 12. I don't want to discuss it.

We can, however, discuss the cake she chose for her birthday. Darn Pinterest. (Just kidding, Pinterest, I love you. I do. Don't shut me out. Please. But this creation was just so over the top chocolate and sugar craziness and she never would have known about it if you didn't exist. That's all I'm saying.)

It was funny the number of people who said, "Tell me the CAKE isn't chocolate, too." It wasn't - it was yellow. But, honestly, under 2.5 POUNDS of M&Ms, we could have just filled in a funnel cake center with pure cane sugar and come out about the same on the nutrition label. What you can't see is that the cake fell apart because of the weight of the frosting. So, there are big vertical crevices crossing the cake...which, of course, we filled up with M&M's. I wasn't kidding about the 2.5 pounds. We had to tie the ribbon around the KitKats to hold it all together. That's not a delicate ribbon with whimsical lollipops adorning it, that there's a girdle. The girls who ate this at the sleep over were very quiet the next day. Very quiet.

Let's pause for a gratuitous puppy love shot before we move on. This sweet thing is underfoot these days, along with his two chubby brothers. Oh. So. Cute.

OK. On to Bijou.

Bijou climbed this tall electric pole on our property last week. We stared up at her for awhile and wondered how she was going to get down. Then we had to quit staring up at her because it was raining in our eyes and open mouths. Some time later, she came down. We're not sure what that little pilgrimage did for her.

Bijou is an enigma.

Adam is still in South Africa and having a fabulous time. See? In his cartoon of himself? That's a good time face and arms if ever I saw them. It's made it much easier having him away knowing he's feeling like that. He surpassed the one-year mark on Aug. 30. He's turning 21 this week. Now THAT's impossible. Really. Not possible. I remember when he was wee. Now, he's nearly 6-foot-three. (There's a folk song in those two sentences, I can feel it.)

Some people may look at our little weed patch and see...well, a weed patch. I see pretty flowers near the woodpile and the wonder of nature and signs of the Creator and...who am I kidding, we're a 2.75 acre weed patch with dollops of scrap metal and rusted feed barrels. We have a little work to do on our patchy little homestead.

Onto funner things. We have a new layer...I just read a blog yesterday by a lady who said she read a blog where a lady called these little eggs "fart eggs."  I laughed, but then I decided that I really like the soft, warm fuzzies I feel when I see these teeny eggs and realize one of our little chicks is growing up. So, I'm not going to think of them as fart eggs. I am not a 10-year-old boy. I am NOT.

Now, today is Miss Macy's birthday. She's 14. I'd lament her age, too, but I suppose that's wearing thin. Let's just say she's fabulous and I celebrate every single day we've had with this girl. (That's because my memories of the first 6 months of her life that she spent SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS EVERY WAKING MOMENT have grown fuzzy and I don't grind my teeth anymore.)

Nope, she's a quirky, witty joy.

She participated in the Jr. Miss Pageant at the county fair this week and earned a third-place trophy. Photos to come.

Can you read it? It says "Tanner Ave." There are lots of Tanner references around these parts. This street is in a nearby town. Apparently, Tanner was the family name of some important regional figure, at one time. My favorite ode to Tanner is "Tanner Wash,"  a (usually) dusty, wide wash that crosses under Interstate 40 west of us. Whenever we pass the sign, I like to bark the command, "Tanner, wash!"

Oh, it never gets old -- I chuckle every time.

Oh, all right, it's gotten old. None of them chuckle anymore. Not one of them. Fun suckers.

Hey, we got a new stove! A pellet stove. It's supposed to keep our whole house toasty. I'm a sucker for wood stoves -- they're romantic and nostalgic and crackly -- and I'm trying to muster up similar romantical feelings for this utilitarian object. I like that I love so many of our "tools" around here - wood fires, kitchen gadgets of all kinds, beautiful Dutch ovens, cozy quilts, the works.

I want to love this too but I haven't gotten past the fact that we'll buy sacks of little pellets and pour them into the back for a quiet fire, which is just so boringly functional. Oh well, Mike found some beautiful rock slabs he's going to use to fashion a foundation for this, and eventually we'll do some kind of rock wall backdrop. I know he'll make it look great.

And, we still have our fireplace in our room, so I can have crackly whenever I really need it. The pellet stove will be a wonderful way to stay warm this winter and I'm grateful for it.

We've had some gorgeous late summer storm skies here. The evening I snapped this the sky was gun metal grey and on the move...then the sun just hit that point on its way below the horizon that shot a burst of rays that lit up the barn to this crazy golden hue.  I love the big dramatic skies we get here.

And, I love this girl...even if she is thwarting all my desires and growing up on me. Dang it.

I just glanced back at these photos and thought of you poor people! If Adam were here he'd make me Photoshop all these pictures to fix the lighting and color and I'd crop them and everything. You're getting straight from the Droid to the blog and that's not very nice. Sorry!

Still, it's just a glimpse of some of the stuff that's been going on around here.

And just so you can rest assured some things never change:

We still have the girls and the old grey barn. So life is still good.

Love from the farm,

Teri