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

Bye, E. Coli

So, E. coli happened. That was about as fun as...nothing. It was no fun at all. None.

Didn't know what hit me last Friday evening, but it hit hard and by Sunday, I managed to pull myself into the shower, and that's as far as I got. Mike dried me off, dressed me and took me off to the ER.

It took a few days of shivering and drenching in sweat and other activities that aren't fun chit chatting about, and even less fun enduring, before they figured out what had me so sick.

It's astonishing how quickly something can reduce a person to absolutely useless. I don't remember a lot about my four days in the hospital this week, or the two days before, but I do vividly recall while I moved from the gurney to the CT scanning bed turning to the tech to say, "I can't believe I'm out in public without a bra on."  She said, "Hey, when the patients come in with no bra and unmatched socks, we know they're the ones who actually need to be here. Don't you worry about a thing."  Somehow, her words comforted.

Did I mention we didn't even brush my hair after showering and before heading to the hospital? And that that wasn't rectified for another 2 days? Yeah, I was looking GOOD.

I recall there were some really cool, involved dreamlike states I faded in and out of during my stay. And one snazzy cat who morphed into a bowl of Honeycomb.

My Mom came to the Valley and stayed with me at the hospital, and got the kids out of the house and fed a few times; and Mike's mom was there with us, too. Sweet church ladies brought meals to my family in the evenings, so Mike could be at the hospital with me after work. I couldn't talk much, and holding my eyes open was painful. The only release was sleep and I do remember praying they would just put me out until I was well. Once the cultures grew and E. coli was confirmed, getting the right antibiotics on board brought about a quick improvement and they sent me home Wednesday to recuperate further.

I tried Facebook a time or two and managed a few minutes before realizing it just hurt too much to look at a screen for any length of time. I moved to the living room to be with my girls during the day on Friday, and finally managed to glance through some emails. I spent an hour reviewing and responding to emails and fielding a few calls and felt as though I had been at it for 15 hours. I called it a day.

Today, I realized if I have any chance of going back to work on Monday, I had to steadily increase my stints of being up and around. I have an 80-mile round trip commute to the office each day and would be in an office for hours before driving home; it was time to build up a little stamina. Time to venture out.

So, I bathed, I put on make up, a bra, pants with a zipper and pushed my hair around a little. I decided to take just a very short trip with the girls while Mike and Tanner were off at a church meeting together - a 10-minute drive to "Ladies Night" at a local bookstore, then a treat and come home. I made it about 7 minutes walking around the store before I realized I'd bit off more than I could chew. The girls were totally chill about cutting it short, Karlie let me hang on her arm as we made our way to the car, and I tried to walk straight though my eyes were mostly closed because seeing was tender and exhausting again. We decided to get a treat through Kneaders' drive through and a burger from In 'N Out, since I had no idea what to do about dinner. And I thought about how awesome it would be if we'd gotten Macy her driver permit all those months she's been asking about it.

Picture us in the drive through at In 'N Out; me, eyes closed, head hanging; the car ahead of us moves, Macy mildly says, "Mom, it's time." I lift my head, put the car in drive, inch forward 4 feet, press on the brake, wonder whether I can trust myself to hold the brake, decide I'm an iffy proposition, put it back in park; lather, rinse, repeat.

The girls weren't piqued with worry; this is just how we've been rolling lately. Tanner's years of crazy medical dramatics have made these kids pretty cool operators; illness and odd Mom behavior rolls off their backs. They were totally unflappable (for the moment); we chatted, they sang, and every so often, Macy would blurt, "Mom, it's time." And forward we'd go.

I'm glad no one was tense and worried, since my next trick on the trip home was to...well, let's just have it...how do I say it delicately?...I ....ugh...well, I barfed a bit as we drove along. Yep, just driving along. Because life is just that awesome.  And the girls reacted just as they should...totally grossed out. Not stressed, not scared. Just fully and completely grossed out. Exactly as they should have been.

Trust me when I say, I didn't think I was overdoing it. I honestly figured 3 days after being out of the hospital, it was reasonable I should try to manage a 1-hr outing; that I needed to be moving around a bit and trying to move ahead.

Turns out, maybe it's a little soon. Since I managed to have yet another incident on the driveway when I got home, it kinda confirms it.

So, keys are back in the drawer, I'm limiting my forays to the house and yard, and I'm not sure I'll attempt that commute on Monday.  Don't want to be a menace to society with my head lolling and what not.

But for the moment, at least, there's a little eyeliner still intact, I've managed to get through typing this post, and the bra's still on.

Progress.

E. coli, I believe we're beginning to see the back side of you.

Love from the couch,
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

Back In the Fight

We're back in the thick of it, wrestling alligators again...

After 7 blissful months of remission where Tanner got to grow, play, laugh, grow, feel like going to school, spend time with friends, grow, look great, play 8th grade football, move freely...and so much more...he has relapsed, we learned from his doctor last week.

So, after 7 months of enjoying and being grateful for every carefree moment I watched him enjoy, I'm now looking forward to learning what his doctor has in mind for getting him back into remission and onto enjoying the upcoming Christmas season.

I'm looking forward to getting him well so he can enjoy a healthy winter and be prepared for whatever he wants to do in the spring...baseball, track, weightlifting, whatever.

I'm looking forward to positive test results, dialing back awful meds that nonetheless get his kidneys back on track, and having those meds, with which we have a serious love-hate relationship, pull out a victory for us once again.

I'm looking forward to someone, somewhere finding a cure.  Please.

And, I'm looking forward to Tanner sporting a kick-butt pair of alligator-hide boots one day. Soon.

Love from the farm,
Teri

Not One Bit Jealous

Ever since Macy was wee, I've admired her cheekbones. I always liked to look at her in profile, because she had the quintessential Disney princess profile: apple cheeks, narrow jaw with a slightly rounded chin, perfect brows and bowtie lips. It is the profile of Belle, of Ariel, and of most every other Disney princess.

I can't tell you the number of times over the years when I've chuckled because she turned just so and I could see it. As she's gotten older, I don't draw the comparison as much; probably because we're not watching as many Disney princess movies around here. But, I still love her apple-cheeked cheekbones.

See the apple cheeks?

See the perfect chin?

And, because I'm a good mother and not at all shallow enough to be jealous of my children, let me just say that I am not jealous of the fact that her beautifully shaded cheekbones in the first picture of her singing are not enhanced with blusher of any kind. That's just how they appear. Naturally. With no foundation or powdering or synthetic blusher or anything. None at all.

And I'm perfectly fine with that. Not one little bit jealous.

While we're at the things I'm not jealous about, let me just say this about Karlie Q Pelican.

I'm not the least bit jealous of those adorable freckles or the myriad natural highlights in her hair that scream "I belong in a wheatfield as the sun is sinking low on the horizon, bathing the waving grains in a warm, gauzy glow!"

I'm not jealous of her lush fringe of eyelashes either.

Or how she can rock a cowboy hat.

Nope, not jealous one bit.

I'm super happy for them.

Just super happy.

Yep, they're super.

Mmm-hmmm.

GOOD for them.

Me and my ruddy skin and ill-defined cheekbones are just So. Darn. Happy. For. Them. Both.

Love from the farm,
Teri

Halloween Costume Rejects

Halloween took us a bit by surprise this year. Actually, that's not true. Karlie has been clamoring for costume ideas and reminding me we needed to get started on her costume for quite some time. For months, Macy knew she wanted to be Flo from the Progressive Commercials.

Tanner didn't have big plans for Halloween, and wasn't wasting time thinking about potential costumes. He was cool. He was up for anything. He was playing XBox Live.

It was just me, OK? It was just me who managed to be surprised that the time had gone by so quickly and I wasn't prepared to prepare the kids for their costumes.

Adam was easy, although I'd say he went a little overboard on his part. He's playing a missionary, and flew all the way to South Africa just to make it look authentic. Sheesh, some people's overachieving kids.

Anyway.

When the kids got ready for school, on Halloween, I figured we better decide what they were going to be. When I mentioned to Macy that we didn't really have time or materials to pull off Flo, she shrugged her shoulders and said, "That's OK, I'll just be something dead," and proceeded to pull on striped tights and top them with shredded denim shorts. She'd put the makeup on after school.

One down.

Then, I threw all of my creative genius at Karlie and came up with FABULOUS ideas for her to consider. With visions of Meg Ryan's "Freudian slip" from the movie "Innerspace" dancing in my mind, I offered forth these jewels:

"Hey, why don't we make a sign on poster board with a big thought bubble. You could hold it out in front of you, and...wait for it...be an 'afterthought'!!!" I exclaimed, clapping wildly, so excited.

Rejected.

"OK then...Oh, I know, let's wrap you in bubble wrap, and when someone asks you what you are, you can answer softly, 'I'm fragile.'"

Eyes rolling. I take that as rejection.

"Alrighty. How about we cover you in quilt batting and you can be a cloud?"

No response.

"Ummm, OK this is it. I gave Macy this idea, but she didn't use it, so you can. You have a little bucket full of Dubble Bubble and every time you walk up to a door, you toss a piece onto the ground and announce, 'I'm a gumdrop.'"

Rejected again.

Flustered, wondering why she can't see the genius behind these suggestions, I turn to Tanner: "Why don't we tie a piece of rope around your neck then tie a big nail to it. You can be a 'hangnail'."

Tanner: "Cool. Let's do it."

I've never loved him more.

Karlie went as a ghost.

Someday she'll understand me.

Love from the farm,
Teri

Fall = Grateful!

There's lots to catch up on as we bound into fall. Aside from the antics of some presumptious feathered farm animals who shall remain nameless,there have been some fun things happening that I want to tell you about. Like the fun we had with Mike's sweet sister and her darling girls and husband picking apples in Colorado...

Then, there was the adventure we had in the pumpkin patch with our Ellie, Grandma, aunt and cousins visiting from out of state...

And, I also want to fill you in on what's up with this guy, who's having a blast in South Africa. He's the one in the middle...see him there with the happy smile?

Then, I might do a little bragging about how cute these girls were in their school choir concert this fall....

But, all those updates and anecdotes are going to have to wait. Because, today, I think I need to just say thank you - to express my gratitude and overwhelming joy.

Because today, I realized we've passed a significant milestone with this guy.

Six months.

Six months Tanner has been in remission from his kidney disease.

Six months he's been free of pain and uncertainty and missing out on absolutely everything his friends were up to. Six months he's been free of worry and emergency rooms and IV's and steroids.

Since Tanner's kidney disease got off to a dramatic start when he was 10, this is the longest, actually twice as long as, he has ever gone without a relapse.

And I am so very grateful...

Because, where for a time he was sallow and weak with deep circles under his eyes, now he's the picture of health.

Where for a long time he was limited to only walking -- no climbing stairs, no running, no P.E. -- now he can do this...

...and this (and it's a darn good thing,because his Dad was too busy laughing to be of any help with this big boy).

(And, no, Mike hasn't taken up a new habit ... it's a lollipop.)

While for the past four years, we couldn't keep from reminding him he was sick because there were endless urine tests and blood pressure checks and blood draws and hospitalizations and talk of spilling and bleeding and heart problems...

...now he's having fun exploring his talents and expanding his comfort zones.

While he started out this year in the hospital, facing six months of chemotherapy to fight a stubborn, threatening relapse...

Now, he's here with us. Every day. Strong, adventurous, laughing, healthy, smiling and happy. We love this kid. And we're so grateful he's not only here, he's well.

All is well.

Thank you God, all is well.

How I pray we can hold on to this remission forever.

Love from the farm,
Teri