My Kids will be Sick for Christmas -- A Parody

My kids will be sick for Christmas,
Of this, I will guarantee.
Off I go, with different kids in tow, to the pediatrician twice this week,
Their strep tests came back negative, so no antibiotics for me.

My kids will be sick for Christmas,
Of this, I will guarantee.
My home sounds like a tuberculosis ward,
My kids, they cough in their sleep.
It's viral, they say.
It needs to run its course -- it'll take a few days.
So, treat it symptomatically.

My kids will be sick for Christmas,
Of this, I will guarantee.
There might be snow,
And noses to blow,
With tissues piled by the tree.

My kids will be sick for Christmas,
Of this, I will guarantee.
The holiday is only a few days away,
And they are home with me.

Perhaps, they'll be better by Christmas,
If only in my dreams.

The Elf: An Apology

It’s the first full week of December, and the Elf anxiety has struck according to Facebook. I will be the first to admit that I bought into the Elf. We named our Elf - Jingle. (I didn’t score any points for originality with that. So move on, people.) When Jingle first arrived, I believed, truly, “This is great! I’ve got this nailed.”

Not so much.

I sucked at the Elf. 

I forgot to move the damn thing. It would sit for days on the dining room chandelier, dust would settle on its little rosy cheeks. Sometimes, it would list precariously. Then, someone would say something, and while someone else was brushing his teeth, the Elf would magically fly somewhere else in the house. It would sit there on the windowsill of the family room or bookshelf. Again. For. Days. But, my little guy didn’t seem to mind. I have clear memories of him talking to the Elf, whispering into its little ear about whatever magical message he wanted to send back to the North Pole. So, I gave him that, at least.

Isn’t that, really, what we are trying to do in our sublimely imperfect ways during these weeks? We are, or at least I am, trying to create or re-create the magic of Christmas for my children, out of the shimmering webs of the past. I grew up pretty average middle class on Staten Island. My parents did not have a lot. My dad was a human resources executive and spent more than one holiday holed up in a hotel room in Manhattan negotiating some labor agreement or another for New York hospitals, racing against a strike deadline. My mom was a nurse and worked nights, and we butted heads furiously and often. 

One of the things, though, that my mom loved and did exceptionally well was Christmas. Memory's gossamer filaments return to me at this time of year – how my mom decorated our little apartment (and, later, our little house) with fresh greens and holly and the scent of pine when I came home from school; the cookie bake-a-thon we would have every year and the cinnamon and sugar on the butcher block; the nativity that was carefully arranged on the bookshelf; and the candle she left burning (okay, maybe not the safest, but I didn’t use seatbelts as a kid, either) in the window on Christmas Eve to let any traveler know that there was room in our home; and the music – Vince Guaraldi to Bing Crosby to Nat King Cole.

I have tried to echo these moments in my own home today. I have a gorgeous holiday candle I light every night. (Hat tip, Erica Amato.) I have a bake-a-thon with the kids and everyone gets to choose a favorite to bake. I fill my pots with greens. I put our crèche front and center on our mantle. I play the music I loved hearing as a kid. We do other stuff too, like going to the sing on Christmas Eve and watching Christmas Vacation and Elf and the Polar Express over and over.

And it all matters. I realized this the other day, when I found the Christmas music station on the radio, and James, 12, complained about it. And, Thomas, 16, took him to task. Later, Tom said to me, “James needs to learn. That music is Christmas to me because that’s the music you always played when I was little.”

“Tom, that was the music that my mom played when I was little.”

“Yeah, well, it’s Christmas. James will figure it out.”

In this darkest month, we go searching for the light --  the light of the menorah, the light of the star, the light of a mother’s faith. And, who would have ever guessed that, through all of our short-comings, our “did I really do that” flaws, our too rushed-to-judgment, “Just get in the car!” “I don’t know where your shoes are!” “Hello, yes, I will drop off your clarinet.” “I don’t have time for this!” “You need what for tomorrow?” moments, we would find perfection, forgiveness, and redemption in a child?

One day, in the not too distant future, our children will be standing or sitting or lying on the floor hyperventilating about the lists and the errands, while we, God willing, are sitting with our feet up somewhere with a view, cocktail (or cup of tea) in hand, and memory’s web will spin for them. They will remember the thing -- that special, magical thing -- and they'll get it. But not the Elf, hopefully, they are smarter than that shit.

So, relax.

Light a candle.

Bake some cookies.

Fry some latkes.

Make those spring rolls and dumplings, Athena Lee, for when Chris comes home.

Mold their memories.

These are fleeting moments when they believe.

If all else fails, pick up some wine.

Maybe, move the Elf. Or not.

And, jingle all the way.

This is not Pink

Welcome to October! And, we all know what that means. That’s right, it’s time for pink, for the grandmother of all “awareness” campaigns, it’s breast cancer “awareness” month. As an aside, October is also liver cancer awareness month, but I guarantee that we won’t see any emerald green ribbons wrapped around trees or on lapels.

For the next month, the world will be festooned in pink ribbons, a veritable tidal wave of pink will send those gold (childhood cancer) and teal (ovarian cancer) ribbons from last month spiraling to the depths of the awareness ocean. Did you see a yellow or teal ribbon on a box of cereal in September? No. Well, then, it’s time to ask why. I am sure that when I head to Shop-Rite next week, I will see plenty of pink merchandise. There will be “awareness days” at baseball and football games; there will be golf events for a “cure” and plenty of races or walks for a “cure.” Here’s the thing, though.

There is no cure for breast cancer or any cancer, for that matter.

I’ll let that sink in for a moment.

There. Is. No. Cure.

Ribbons and “awareness” don’t change that fact.

Is cancer treatable? Absolutely. Many people are treated successfully, go into remission, and continue to live their lives.  Am I one of them? I’d like to think so. I’ve had cancer. Twice. I had Hodgkin’s lymphoma, diagnosed when I was 14 in 1981. So, I was a member of the childhood cancer club, long before the gold ribbon thing. I was diagnosed with breast cancer last year when I was 49. It was caught early during my annual mammo and ultrasound. My treatment was successful. And yet, and yet, I don’t pretend for one single moment that this can’t change. It’s insidious, cancer. 

One in three breast cancer patients has metastatic or Stage IV disease. That means that the cancer has spread from the breast to someplace else. It can happen any time; it can be an initial diagnosis or can be diagnosed months or years after completing treatment. It can happen even if the original breast cancer was caught “early.” No one knows why this happens. Almost no one survives metastatic disease. If you know someone who has died from cancer, that person died from metastatic disease. Yet, notwithstanding that one-third of all breast cancer patients will be diagnosed with metastatic disease; according to Metavivor, only 2 to 5% of all money for breast cancer research is dedicated to metastatic disease.

This year, if you want to make a difference in the fight against cancer, please consider supporting organizations that actually are putting dollars to work to find a cure or that are providing direct support to cancer patients. Ask the important questions: Where does the money go? Who does the money help? Use Charity Navigator to verify a charity’s accountability. Here are some ideas:

·      Metavivor: www.metavivor.org
·       Living Beyond Breast Cancer: www.lbbc.org/

·      Young Survival Coalition: www.youngsurvival.org

·      Pink Warrior Angels: www.pinkwarriorangels.org

·      Remember Betty Foundation: www.rememberbetty.com

If you know someone who was recently diagnosed or is in treatment, and you want to help, but are not sure how or what to do, may I suggest offering specific support, such as an offer to come to treatment, go for a walk or go out for coffee; to help with grocery shopping or laundry following surgery; and, of course, meals always are appreciated (as long as you clear taste preferences which can go wonky during treatment), as are cards or notes. I saved every single one that I received. They still make me smile.

If you want to splurge, then consider these great companies and organizations, all started and run by survivors:

·      AnaOno Intimates: A lingerie and loungewear company designing exclusively for those who've had breast reconstruction, breast surgery, mastectomy or are living with other conditions that cause pain or discomfort, www.anaono.com.

·      Survivor Moda: The ParkPuff™ Seatbelt Pillow for Breast Cancer Survivors, www.survivormoda.com.

·      Diva for a Day: Nominate someone to be a “Diva” and she'll have a beautiful, restorative day, www.divaforaday.org.

·      Fighting Pretty: “Pretty Packages” are care packages intended to empower women battling cancer to feel strong, beautiful and fierce, www.fightingpretty.org.

Cancer happens. Cancer sucks. Cancer kills -- too many, too young, too soon. 

We need to come together to make a difference. 

We need to move beyond the ribbons.

We need a cure.

Our lives are depending on it.

In Memory Of --

Nan A., Breast Cancer
Patrice B., Pancreatic Cancer
Ted B., Liver Cancer

Bob C., Prostate Cancer

Champagne Joy, Breast Cancer

Lorraine M., Breast Cancer

Peter M., Brain Cancer

Jim O., Throat Cancer
Thomas W., Pancreatic Cancer

In Support & Honor Of --

Erica A., Breast Cancer

Mark B., Prostate Cancer

Lorry B., Breast Cancer

Steph B., Breast Cancer

Karen B., Breast Cancer

Liz B., Breast Cancer

Chiara D., Breast Cancer

Lauren D., Breast Cancer

Dana D., Breast Cancer

Gina D., Breast Cancer

Peggy G., Lymphoma

Karen G., Breast Cancer

Dana H., Breast & Ovarian Cancer

Maureen J., Breast Cancer

Tom K., Melanoma

Mary K., Breast Cancer

Nancy L., Breast Cancer

Melanie L., Breast Cancer

Shea L., Lymphoma

Lori M., Lymphoma

Peggy M., Breast Cancer

Brendan M., Hodgkin's Lymphoma

Laura M., Breast Cancer

Diane M., Breast & Lung Cancer

Susie M., Breast Cancer 

Nora M., Ovarian Cancer

Mike M., Bladder Cancer

Christie O., Breast Cancer

Rachel P., Breast Cancer

Maria R., Breast Cancer

Cassandra S., Breast Cancer

Jen S., Lymphoma

Joanne W., Breast Cancer

Karen W., Breast Cancer