Today

Today, we covet your prayers as Brother Bear has surgery to address his toe-walking.

I appreciate your patience with this Mama Bear as I navigate his recovery, parenting another busy cub, and blogging!!

Why?

"Mama Bear, why do they want me to walk flat footed?"

I took a deep breath. I said a quick prayer. This was the question I'd been waiting for since we had our first appointment with the orthopedic surgeon. This was the question I was dreading. Because I knew the question that lingered behind it. "What is wrong with me?" Why do I know this? Because, I too, walked on my toes as a child. I too, wondered why everyone wouldn't just let me be and walk any old way I wanted.

But now, I was the Mama Bear. I was in charge of the one who just wanted me to "let him be". I'll admit, there was a part of me that wanted to just pick that bear cub up and run to the woods where we could start a toe walking commune, but I didn't. I had to be the Mama Bear.

I took another deep breath, and gently explained it to him. I told him that while his body prefers to walk on his toes, that it wasn't good for his muscles to walk on his toes forever. That, if he continued, he would risk losing use of some muscles and then wouldn't be able to do every activity he wanted. I explained that walking with your whole foot (not just your toes) is how a human being is intended to walk. He seemed fine with that explanation and, as kindergartners are apt to do, moved quickly on to another question.

But I didn't.

This is a question Papa Bear and I have dealt with as parents since Brother Bear began his journey into the upright world. He began walking on his toes as soon as he started walking. We were hoping (as the pediatrician suggested) that it would go away. But we also knew that 70% of toe walkers had a parent who walked on their toes.

At the age of three, we were referred to an orthopedic surgeon at a local Orthopedic Hospital. He told us that most kids "grow out of this" and that he would see us in a year. In a year, at age 4, he said that Brother Bear didn't seem to be growing out of it like we had hoped. He broached the idea of a surgical solution, and wanted to see us again in 9 months. Nine months later, he confirmed no positive changes in Brother Bear's gait and told us that surgery was the best option. We asked for more time. He gave us 3 months.

We began to search in earnest for alternate solutions. We were divinely connected with a Physical Therapist who, with twice weekly visits and night braces (molded twice a month), helped Brother Bear gain enough range of motion to actually put his heels on the ground with ease (and without pain), but we were unable to get enough range of motion for him to be able to walk flat footed. The therapist, who was very connected with the Orthopedic Hospital, noticed some odd things about Brother Bear's reflexes. She suggested that these things might suggest a neurological component to our problem.

At our next checkup, our orthopedic surgeon agreed to a neurological work up. The neurologist became our close friend over the next year. He said that we needed to "retrain his brain." We put Brother Bear in cast for 4 weeks. He gained some elasticity, but the neurological symptoms only increased. The neurologist suggested more testing. We had an MRI that found "a spot" on his brain. It might explain the problem. We continued our effort to "retrain the brain" by having AFO Braces made for Brother Bear, and having him wear them six hours every day.

Another MRI, a genetic test, and 9 months later, we are back where we started. Brother Bear (when he's out of his braces) still walks on his toes, and we still don't know why. They call it "Idiopathic Toe Walking". (Funny - My Daddy Bear {a retired physician} asked me if I knew what "idiopathic" meant. He said "idio" means, "I don't know" and "pathic" means "why the hell" Ha!).

Basically, Brother Bear walks on his toes and no one has a text book reason why. Unfortunately, we just can't keep letting him walk like this.

So, Tuesday morning, we will check him into the Orthopedic Hospital where a very seasoned, very capable Doctor Bear will perform a Bilateral Sliding Heel Cord Lengthening Surgery. Basically, the Doctor Bear will make small incisions in 3 places in both of Brother Bear's Achilles heels. Doing so will allow the muscle to "give" enough to stretch Brother Bear's feet into dorsiflexion (toes to shins). The Doctor Bear will then put hard "walking casts" on Brother Bear's feet while in dorsiflexion. He will be in these casts for 4-6 weeks. The theory is, that this "extra length" (and time in casts) will allow Brother Bear the ability to walk flat footed.

As you see from my writing, we didn't come to this decision lightly (quickly, or easily!!). Papa Bear and I did not want this surgery. It's painful and the entire recovery is about 6 months. Neither of us wanted to inflict this on Brother Bear. But, after many consultations, and many prayers, we feel confident that we are making the right decision for our cub.

So, tomorrow, I send my my cub into surgery. A piece of his innocence will be lost in this process and, as his Mama Bear, I mourn that. I will be brave. But he will be braver.

Until then, we sent him to school for the first time in over a year without his braces. He was ecstatic! Papa Bear and I both figured that one day without braces wouldn't hurt.

Plus, we gave him one last day to just "let him be". To let him know that nothing, absolutely nothing is wrong with him.

Nothing says, "stress relief" like:

Double Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookies!

I was watching another bear cub, and decided to use her as a decoy for my sweet tooth. Mwah ha haa! I'm so sneaky. (In my defense, I did offer her two options: 1) beauty salon or 2) baking cookies). (In her defense, WHO in their right mind would choose beauty shop over cookies??)

They are the perfect mix of salty and sweet. Mmmmmm....

Because I love you Cyber Bears (and I can see some of you licking your screens), here's the recipe:

Double Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookies

1 - 16 oz pckg. semisweet chocolate chips

2 cups flour

1/2 tsp. baking soda

1/4 tsp. salt

3/4 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup sugar

1 cup unsalted butter

1 cup cream peanut butter

2 eggs

2 tsp. vanilla

6 oz. milk chocolate chips

6 oz. peanut butter chips

Place semisweet chocolate chips in the top of a double boiler over hot, not simmering, water. Melt the chocolate, stirring until smooth. Remove the top part of the double boiler from the bottom. Set aside to cool to room temp. In small bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt. In a medium bowl, whisk together sugars. Add butter and beat until well combined. Add peanut butter and beat until smooth. Add eggs and vanilla. Beat until just combined. Add flour mixture, milk chocolate chips and peanut butter chips. Beat until no streaks of flour are visible. Pour in melted chocolate; mix until marbled. Drop dough in 3 TBS mounds, 2" apart on ungreased baking sheet.

Bake 15-18 minutes at 325F or until just set but still soft. Cool on cookie sheet, then transfer to wire rack. Makes 4 dozen cookies.

Perhaps my metabolism isn't the only problem....

Words

Sugar Bear has learned a new word:

MINE.

Need I say more?

Junkie

My bear cubs aren't the best eaters. Well - what they like, they eat a lot of. I mean, if I served up pizza, hot dogs, french fries and pudding every day - they'd be great eaters.

But, alas, I try to throw in a few healthy options here and there. Thus, my bear cubs aren't the best eaters.

One breakfast food we've settled on as both delicious to them and nutritious enough for me to not feel horrifically guilty serving it to them is Eggo Nutrigrain Blueberry Waffles (no payments/endorsements/under-the-table deals were made here. I'm just a Mama Bear telling you what we eat). Sugar Bear wakes up, rubs the sleep from her eyes and says, "Wah-FUU!". Brother Bear cleans his breakfast plate in mere seconds. Now, this may have a wee bit more to do with the very unhealthy amounts of gooey syrup that adorn these oh-so-healthy waffles, but we're not talking about that. We're talking about a semi-healthy, no bear cub complaining, Mama Bear can drink her coffee in peace kinda breakfast here.

So, needless to say, we buy ALOT of waffles for our den. We DO NOT run out of waffles. The world turns upside down, heads spin, and bear cubs say ugly things if we run out of waffles. Every week during my weekly grocery run, I consistently by 2 boxes of these suckers. It's like clockwork - my cart just glides down the aisle. I don't even have to look. I could be blindfolded and I would be able to get down the aisle, open the freezer case, and grab my 2 boxes of waffles.

That is, until recently.

A month or so ago I went to buy our "healthy" waffles, and they weren't there.

Gasp!

Now, I was shopping at a different location than my normal location (same store), so I thought, "Oh, they just don't have any because I don't shop here every week and they don't know to ALWAYS have 2 boxes of healthy waffles each week for me." We made do that week, and I returned to my regular store. I was certain we could restock our precious breakfast treats and then all would be right with the world again.

No go.

My normal store didn't have them. I thought maybe they'd done the whole "switch things around so you'll buy more stuff" trick. Nope. Everything else was in its normal place. They were just running suspiciously low on one brand of waffles.

And then I noticed the sign.

"Dear customers, due to a manufacturing shortage, we are experiencing a delay in our waffle inventory. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause and hope to rectify the problem as soon as possible"*

I started to sweat. Profusely.

Manufacturing shortage? Really? What could they be short of - fake blueberries? How hard are those to come by??? What in the WORLD could be the hold up?

In an extreme moment of panic, I decided to try the organic, whole wheat flaxseed waffles as a short term replacement. You can only imagine how that went over. NO AMOUNT of sugary syrup could cover up the delicious taste of flaxseed.

Do these people know what they are doing to my life? Breakfast now consists of, "Sweetie, would you like some eggs? Okay, how 'bout some oatmeal? Oookay, what about a steamin' bowl of cream of wheat? Now..calm down..calm down, I'll get that bowl of sugar topped sugar for you just as quickly as I can!!"

Even worse, I feel like I've become a junkie. Each week, I run straight to the freezer aisle, open the door and start throwing waffle boxes around in hopes that there might be just one little box left. I'm left jonesin' on the corner waiting for the next Eggo truck to arrive.

A month later, and the cravings haven't gone away. We're making do, but barely. It's a day by day survival kinda thing. I never thought it would come to this for me. I've sunk to a new low.

I hear they have an experimental treatment program at Betty Ford. I'll let you know how it goes.

Kinda gives a whole new meaning to "Leggo my Eggo", doesn't it?

*quoted as best as my panicked brain could remember

Fuzzy Math

I've been doing some math.

Okay, now that you've stopped laughing and caught your breath, can we move on?

Seriously, I've been doing some metabolic mathematical computations and I think I'm a little worried.

You see, when I was a pre-30 year old bear, all it took for me to stay fit and healthy (read: fit into my stinkin' jeans) was a mere 30 minutes of daily cardio. Just like the doctors tell you. No problem! Anyone can do 30 minutes!

Then, my 3rd decade and 1st bear cub came along. I found that if I wanted to stay fit and healthy, I would need to increase my cardio to 40 minutes per day. I also found that I needed to buy a new pair of jeans. Easy enough.

Three point five decades brought an additional bear cub, and an additional 10 minutes of cardio.

Now, I'm over halfway through my 3rd decade, past my 2nd bear cub, and on my 4th pair of jeans (they call them, "mom jeans" now). I'm trying my best to get down to my post-bear cub 1 fighting weight (which is NO WHERE NEAR my pre-bear cub weight - so I feel like I'm being realistic here) and I recently found myself stuck again. Bouncing back and forth on the scale like a trampoline artist.

Needless to say, I find myself very frustrated - but unwilling to give up just yet. Thus, I've added an additional 20 minutes to my workout. (Side note: I'm also trying something called "circuit training" to mix it up a bit. Cyber Bears, there are parts of my body that hurt that I didn't even know existed!)

So, this is what landed me doing mathematical projections. And here's the personal computations I came up with in order for me to stay fit and healthy so far**:

If age is less than 30, then: workout = 30 minutes per day.

If age is greater than 30 but less than 35, then: workout = 40 minutes per day.

If age is 35, then: workout = 50 minutes per day.

If age is greater than 35 but less than 40, then: workout 70 minutes per day.

Being the obsessive compulsive bear that I am - I projected that formula forward.

And that is when I got depressed.

Because, Cyber Bears, I realized that in order to keep my fluffy bear body healthy at age 65, I'm going to be working out 190 minutes PER DAY. That's over THREE HOURS of working out.

Every. Single. Day.

Sigh. I'm buying a new pair of jeans.

That'll teach me to do math.

**funny note: the first time I wrote out the math calculations, I used the proper symbols for greater than and less than. When I saved, there were all sorts of alarms because it thought I had some HTML code errors. Had to start all over again!

Things I've learned

Here are a few things I learned yesterday (in case you were interested)...

• Never, ever, ever, ever tell your bear cub how many shots/needle pokes they are going to receive unless you are ABSOLUTELY, 100%, without-a-doubt positive that the number is correct. Because, hypothetically speaking, you might - in good faith - tell them that the number is 3 and it actually turns out to be 5.
• NO amount of stickers can convince a 6 year old bear cub that 5 needle pokes (dubbed, "the stapler" by Brother Bear) is O.K.
• Phlebotomists are really, really nice. Until you kick them in the shins. Then the gloves come off. (Okay, the gloves don't literally come off because that would be totally unsanitary. But you know what I mean.)
• Two adult bears are no match for a 50 pound pissed off bear cub.
• My bear cub is exceptionally good at UNO. Like - freak of nature - good.
• It is darn near impossible to un-pry a 6 year old bear cub's clenched paw.
• Papa Bear can nap just about anywhere at anytime. It is a coping mechanism I wish I had.
• Pancakes with whipped cream and copious amounts of maple syrup are a fabulous reward.
• Pediatric Phlebotomist is officially off my list of potential careers. I'll stick with Mama Bear. It's easier.
• I have an amazingly tough, resilient bear cub. (But, I already knew that)

In a split second

Okay, maybe not a split second, but you get my drift. I went to check a few emails (seriously, just a few) and THIS is what I returned to.

And you wonder why I'm not posting as often. It's because, if I'm not tearing after Sugar Bear (a.k.a. The Tazmanian Devil, a.k.a. Hurricane Oso De Azucar) and her mess, I'm rescuing her from the top of tables and chairs.

I should have had her when I was younger. Because this stage is going to send me to an early grave. Or at least get me put on arthritis and high blood pressure medication.

Oh, gotta go. Sugar Bear, put that downnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, breathe.

OhmygoshIjustgotthisreallycoolcoffeemaker.Itisthemostfabulousthingyou'veeverseen.Ifellinlovewith

itoverChristmaswhenIusedthenewoneMyMamaBearhad.Ievenhadafriendwritepostabouthersrecentlyonherblog.Itmakescoffeewheneveryouwantathepushofabutton.AllyouhavetodoisLITERALLY

pushabuttonandVOILAcoffee.ThecoffeemakerwehadwassuchapainandsomessyIneverwanted

tomakeanyothercoffeethantheonepotPapaBearandIhaveinthemorning.But,OHMYGOSH,

nowIwanttomakecoffeeallthetime.ITISSOOOOOEASY.Andthereisbarelyanycleanup.

NowwhenI'mfeelingalittleslow,allIhavetodoispopapodinthemachineandI'vegotalittlepickmeup

rightthereinmyhand!Howconvenientisthat?

Onanothernote,IhavebeenMISSEFFECIENTlately!I'mtalkinggettingthingsdone,cyberbears!

I'mcleaningoutmykitchenandpayingbillsandfollowingupwithpeople.I'mevenpostingmorethan

oneblogpostaweekthisweek.AmazinghoweffiecientIam!!Well,gottagtherearebaseboards

thatmustbecleanedandreallyimportantstufftobedone.Whew!I'dbettergetanothercupofcoffee

beforeIstart!

PerhapsI'llmakeitdecafthistime.

Party like it's 2009....

Yes, that is a pair of skivvies on her head. That's how we roll around here.

She seems to have suddenly acquired a taste for dress up. It doesn't matter the item, she's using it to dress up. The other day, she entertained herself with a washcloth as a hat for about an hour.

This is just another sign that I should put the laundry away sooner. But, hey, I was just proud that the skivvies she found were actually clean. I take my victories where I can Cyber Bears.

The reason why this blog has been so quiet....

We were hibernating with Papa Bear's family in the state from whence he came..

Sunrise

Sunset

I should probably apologize to you, Cyber Bears, for neglecting you so. But, did you just see those pictures? Yeah. They were taken from the deck of our cabin. I feel amazingly unable to apologize after enjoying that view on Christmas Day.

Hope you had a very Merry Christmas. Here's to a great New Year together.

Bah! Humbug!

"External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was better than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty."

A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

A Letter to the "Local" Theatre Company Producing their Annual Performance of Dickens' A Christmas Carol:

I love Dickens' A Christmas Carol. It's a lovely story of redemption and renewal. But the real reason I love it, is because of my family. Let me explain.

As many Christmases as was possible growing up, our family of 5 drove 2 hours west to see A Christmas Carol performed by the Theatre Company in "the big city". I remember each experience vividly. The anticipatory drive into the city, the fancy red velvet seats in the theatre, the bigger than life actors, and - of course - the amazing story of Scrooge.

When my first niece was a cub, My Daddy Bear decided that we needed to renew our tradition, and pass it along to a new generation. When Brother Bear arrived, we inducted him into the now annual tradition. That was seven Christmases ago. That's right - do the math. We brought our then 3 month old cub to see the performance. Sure, we had to take him out at points. We were always considerate of the other patrons, and never once received a negative comment or a dirty look. Not once. Not even last year, when I brought my then 4 month old cub AND five year old cub to the performance. We had a perfect balance of kindness to fellow patrons as well as welcoming a new generation into our wonderful family tradition. It worked very well we thought.

"...for it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself." A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

This year was my first year to order the tickets myself (My Daddy Bear had previously taken care of these details). I called the number for the "Local" Theatre Company and was greeted by a representative for the new "INSERT CORPORATE NAME HERE Performing Arts Center". I guess now that the city has this wonderful Performance Hall, there is one central phone system for it all.

I noticed on their website, as well as on A VERY LARGE BILL BOARD on A VERY LARGE ROAD IN THIS TOWN that they were offering "Youth Tickets" for $15. That's great! Since our family was hoping to spring for the tickets this year, that would be a nice savings from the $45-$65 adult tickets.

So, I first asked the representative if my now 16 month old cub needed a ticket since she would be sitting in someone's lap the whole time. Her answer was a resounding YES. "EVERY PERSON who enters the theatre must have ticket," she tells me emphatically. Okay, no problem. While it seems a little overkill to me that my lap sitting, sixteen month old needs a ticket, I figure we can afford the extra $15 required for a youth ticket. I then tell the representative that I need 4 adult tickets and 2 youth tickets. I was then put on hold.

"Bah! Said Scrooge. Humbug!" A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

"I'm sorry ma'am. There aren't any Youth Tickets available," she says when she returns. Not any available? They were advertised ON A BILLBOARD. And your website says that "Youth Tickets available are for children under 18 years old with the purchase of an Adult ticket only". I'm buying 4 adult tickets, so I should be able to get my 2 youth tickets. I was then put on hold.

Again.

The representative returns again to tell me that there are only TEN youth tickets available for each show, and those ten tickets are gone for this performance. Huh? That fine print seems to be missing from the website as well as THE GIANT BILLBOARD ADVERTISING YOUTH TICKETS.

Now I'm a little frustrated. But I'm still intent on continuing the now beloved family tradition. So I tell the representative that I would now like to buy SIX adult tickets (gulp) starting from the end of the row so we can have easy access should we need to exit the theatre quickly. I was then put on hold.

Again.

For a while.

This time the representative told me that she was checking with her manager to see "if there was a minimum age requirement" for the performance. There wasn't. (Um, if she'd asked me, I could have told her that SINCE I'VE BEEN ATTENDING THE PERFORMANCE EVERY YEAR WITH MY BEAR CUBS FOR THE PAST SIX YEARS!) But she did, however, need to inform me that I would need to make sure that my bear cub behaved - and I might be asked to leave if she didn't.

"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," said Scrooge. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!" A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

And that was about the time that I ended my conversation with the representative of the "INSERT CORPORATE NAME HERE Performing Arts Center". Okay. So maybe it was after telling her that I have taken bear cubs to this performance for SIX YEARS, and knew how to keep them in line, and what to do if they didn't behave. But I knew that I needed to end the conversation quickly after that. Because I was terribly frustrated at that point, and was NO LONGER THINKING LOGICALLY. (And, if you know me - if I keep speaking past that point it isn't pretty).

"But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefor, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good ; and I say, God bless it!" A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens

After calming myself down, and sleeping on in for a few days, I recognize that this representative was just doing her job. The problem is that she had a job to do. And what I mean is, it seems that in all the fanciness and impressiveness that this "INSERT CORPORATE NAME HERE Performing Arts Center" has become, they have forgotten the beauty of Dickens' tale.

A tale of a man who is so focused on money and wealth to point of ostracizing family, friends, and anyone who comes in contact with him that he has nothing left but his money. A man who, haunted by ghosts of the past, present, and future finally sees the light. A man who is redeemed from the world of greed.

It's a tale that I see every year because I need the gentle reminder. It's a tale that I take my bear cubs to see, because I want to teach them about what is most important in life: gentleness, kindness, charity. It's a tale that, despite the experience I related above, we'll see again this year. I maybe a little jaded, but I'm not above offering a little redemption either.

It's also a tale that a few folks in corporate need to see this year too.

Signed,

Mama Bear

" 'God Bless us every one!' said Tiny Tim, the last of all" A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

"Lookin' Good"....And other runner's lies

I am running my 12th marathon tomorrow. I actually have the honor of pacing a new friend to meet his own personal best. This guy survived a heart attack in 2003. He has conquered much - now he's going to conquer this beast.

I love running marathons. What I love more is seeing people feel the accomplishment that running 26.2 miles gives you. It gives you a faith in yourself that (I think) nothing else can.

This quote was in this month's Runner's World magazine. I thought it was really funny. Hope you enjoy.

"Lying is NOT something we normally endorse. But it's perfectly acceptable to tell a runner that he (she) is looking good at mile 19 of a marathon when, in fact, he (she) looks like an insomniac who's trying to sneeze, and is confused because someone has switched his (her) running shoes with replicas made of concrete. The go-to lie is 'Lookin' good!' Or you could say, 'If I weren't so awed by the apparent ease with which you're navigating this course, I might be angry with you for nearly knocking me unconscious with your very awesomeness!' The key is to SAY SOMETHING. Even a zombie appreciates encouragement."

So, if you are out there tomorrow, please make sure you SAY SOMETHING to the runners. Every single one.

We need it.

Coal

The Holidays are stressful on everyone, but none more so than The Four Bears family pet. He's been known to be very naughty during The Holidays, and has often received only a lump of coal as a present. There was one particularly bad Christmas where he ate: a pan of brownies, a cookie sheet worth of gingerbread men, several ornaments, a doggie carrying case (not his), a doggie brush (not his), a pecan pound cake AND multiple pieces of the cake stand he broke in his attempt to liberate the pound cake.

Clearly, he has unresolved issues surrounding The Holidays. But a little doggie Prozac and aging seemed to work in our favor the past few years.

Until this year:

Yep. That is (what's left of) the Virgin Mary from our "Little People" Manger.

He'll be receiving another large lump of coal in his stocking for sure. And from the looks of it, he will be going to Hell as well.