Greenbelt Patch: They Grow Up So Fast

When the boys were babies, old men and women would "ooh" and "ahh" over the handlebar of the stroller at my angelic sleeping child and say “they grow up so fast” a million times. I’d kindly nod my head and smile, exhausted from lack of sleep and counting down the days to the monthly Moms Night Out when I could drink way too much and pretend I was 25 again—of course paying for that decision for hours the next day.

At the doctor’s office, I was having small talk with a nurse and inevitably the conversation comes to children—"Do you have any? How many? What are their ages?"

I shared my sons’ ages and she immediately gets a nostalgia look in her eye, “Oh that’s such a wonderful age. Legos, Star Wars…Oh, I just love that age.”

I nodded my head, “Mm-hmm."

As a parent, you know that when you are knee deep in any stage, you aren’t really appreciating it. I wasn’t appreciating the stage when my youngest son wouldn’t let anyone hold him but me—all the time!

Now I have to sneak hugs and kisses in when I can.

I didn’t appreciate the stage of having to always hold my children’s hands—hunched over my back in pain—while they learned to walk, to cross the street or walk in a crowd. Now, they want to do it on their own without any help.  

As I vacuum another small Lego piece into my Dyson—a piece that inevitably will be the all important piece to complete the Starfighter—I admit that I am not appreciating the stage we are currently living in.

The nurse tells me about her 20-something son and how she blinked and he was graduating high school, she blinked and he was graduating college and now she doesn’t see him but a few times a year. I got a little misty with her as she looked off into space telling me—the heartbreak was apparent on her face.

She remarked that if she could go back in time, she’d put him in less activities. I asked her more about that because it’s often a conversation amongst the moms on the playground: what sport your kid is going to play this season.

My children are not inclined to play any sports. They are barely interested in anything involving a ball, so it’s not a situation that I’ve had to deal with. I have felt pressure from other parents about the decision to not force my children into sports.

“They need to learn how to play on a team," they say. “How will they learn that you can’t win every time.”

I get looks, when I tell them I’m not enrolling either of my children in a sport, baseball, soccer, football or otherwise. Of course my children will learn these lessons from being in school, in summer camp, members of a rather large family with divorce and step-relatives.

We can learn how to work on a team by being members of our community and my children are very aware that they aren’t the winners every time. I actually feel the need to boost their egos a bit so that they have faith in their abilities.

If the boys were interested in sports it would be a different story, but they aren’t. And it’s not something that I feel needs to be pushed.

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Greenbelt Patch: Opening a Window into Music

When you have a child of the Autism Spectrum it’s hard to avoid becoming consumed by comparing your child with typically developing children. IEP (Individualized Education Plan) meetings don’t help, you sit around a table with professionals working with your child on a daily basis at school and discuss the ways in which your child is developing and meeting goals for his age, almost all of his goals are goals that come naturally for other children.

For example one of the goals on my son’s IEP is to have a back and forth conversation with a peer without prompting. That doesn’t seem like much, I know, but recently when my son, L, had a friend over and I heard them playing in his room I stood out of eyesight to count how many times they had a back and forth conversation- five times! I had to resist the urge to go in there and give him a huge hug and tell him “You did it!” because he’d just look at me with a confused face, “Did what?”. Instead I quietly celebrated in the hallway while tears made their way down my face, and then emailed and texted everyone who would understand what a huge accomplishment this was for my son.

This past week L ran out of the school building with a huge smile on his face holding something in his hand that resembled a magic wand in a carrying case. It was the recorder that we ordered in the beginning of the school year, I completely forgot about it but apparently L never did. He has an amazing memory, most children on the Autism Spectrum do. When L was two years old he couldn’t form sentences to have a conversation yet he had our entire bookshelf of children’s books memorized and would recite lines from the books to answer questions in real life. He did this with movies and television shows as well, after watching a television show or movie only once he had it memorized and would play with his Thomas the Train by reenacting the show he just watched.

L was waving the blue case over his head. “Look Mom! Look it’s my new instrument!” Once we arrived home he immediately took the recorder out of the case and demonstrated how to wear the safety string around his neck so he doesn’t drop it and then began teaching himself how each note is played by the little book of sheet music the teacher handed out. I assumed they had gone over all of this in class. I should let you know that when in music class my son wears noise reduction headphones and often begs his aide to take him out of the class because the noise is too loud. Yet here he was so excited about learning to play an instrument.

I checked my email while he went over his sheet music and enjoyed the little notes being played behind me.

“Mom do you want to hear my notes?”

“Of course I do buddy.”

When I turned my attention to him I noticed the sheet music didn’t indicate what note he was playing. In order to play the song he had to be able to read music.

“L what note is this?”, pointing to the F on the treble clef.

“F.”

“And what about this one?”

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Greenbelt Patch: Kids on the Autism Spectrum: Bike Riding

Milestones that are met by our children are documented and recorded—our child’s pediatrician informs us of when those milestones typically happen based on recorded data that coincides with a particular age.  Baby should be rolling over at six months old, walking at around one, at three years old should be able to speak in multi-word sentences and by four years old should ride a tricycle.

Every parent has expectations of their children crossing milestones around the same age that they themselves crossed that milestone.

Walking.

Talking.

Loosing teeth.

Grandparents are called to confirm, “Do you remember when I lost my first tooth?”

I grew up in a bicycling family; our family would go on week long bicycling trips while other families went to Disney World. As an adult I want to share my love of bicycle riding with my children. But it’s a milestone for my child, L, who is on the Autism Spectrum that doesn’t come easy.

Like other parents I tried the scooter bike when he was three years old. While the other three-year-olds scooted by, our experience resulted in meltdown after meltdown. The meltdowns by children on the Autism Spectrum are worse than a meltdown by a neurotypical child; there is a lack of communication and there is no compromising.

Needless to say, we gave up on the scooter. 

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Greenbelt Patch: Blood is Thicker Than Water

Growing up my mom would often tell my sister and I to "watch out for each other". 

When the two of us were on our own, without her parent supervision, she would enforce this rule for us to stick together. As children going to a sleepover at my cousin’s house these were the words she would say as we opened the car doors, it continued into our preteen and teen years when she would drop us off at the mall to hang out with friends or go to a party. 

I’m sure if you psychoanalyzed the situation it had a lot to do with her own upbringing, my mom and her sister often had to count on each other during their not so grand childhood. Or maybe it was because we grew up in a rough neighborhood, full of boys who sadly saw the back of a police car several times before their eighteenth birthday.

My mother has a collection of stockpile phrases that she continues to use to this day, typical phrases that leave her lips include “she’s the only sister you’ll ever have”, “blood is thicker than water”, “sisters need to stick together”. Often we would roll our eyes and say “yeah mom, whatever.” 

There were many years when my sister and I didn’t want to stick together. We spent most of our teen years mumbling, “I hate you” or slamming doors in each other’s face.

And then we became adults.

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Greenbelt Patch: Instilling Thankfulness in Children

It's a struggle for every parent to instill in their children thankfulness and gratitude. Every year before family arrives for a birthday party or Christmas dinner I have to have the pep talk with my children that goes something like this,

"Even if the gift you open isn't something you really wanted you must smile, look the person in the eye and say thank you."

I have this talk because my oldest son, L, is on the Autism Spectrum and one of his unique qualities is that he doesn't have filters. He doesn't have the ability to lie, he can't comprehend the little white lies that we all say in order to make other people feel good—"It's exactly what I wanted" or "I love it, thank you!"—instead he's brutally honest.

I was chatting with his teacher afterschool one day (she knows that I am a yoga instructor) and she mentioned that she started going to the gym and was going to try the yoga classes offered there. L overhears our conversation and inquires, "are you going to the gym because you are fat?"

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Greenbelt Patch: Avoid DC Crowds and Head to a Baltimore Museum

For parents with kids on the Autism Spectrum, there are many experiences that we have to miss out on due to large, loud crowds. Children on the Autism Spectrum can be over stimulated easily and being put in an environment with a lot of people can lead the child to having a meltdown. My oldest son is on the spectrum and though the meltdowns have become fewer as he’s gotten older, instead over stimulating environments effect his attitude. He becomes “snippy”, short tempered, quick to argue with his brother in other words not pleasant to be around for the rest of the day.

We don’t take advantage of the museums in DC as much as we should mainly because of the crowds. Recently we discovered a hidden gem in Baltimore, The Walters Art Museum. This museum is fantastic for a child on the spectrum, don’t get me wrong it’s great for all kids but for children who are on the spectrum it’s pretty amazing. Here is why:

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College Park Patch: A Leader Among Them

On a beautiful fall day, I notice a group of children discover a dead squirrel lying in a parking space on the side of the road. I've seen these children playing together on the corner playground after school each day, their age’s range from kindergarten to third grade. At first they stand around the squirrel talking about it, staring intently.

By the looks on almost all of their faces, it seems this is the first time that any of them had seen something dead, in real life. I am mesmerized by the children and stand back from the group wanting to see for myself how this is going to play out. It seems somewhat like observing a social experiment.
The children stand on the curb by the side of the road, knowing if they step foot off the curb their parent will call out from across the playground (where we all gather to talk), “Get out of the street." I can tell that huddled together around this dead animal, they are coming up with a plan.

They are determined to get it out of the street and buried. The smallest boy of the group continuously informs the other children, “We need to get it out of the street.” He begins to bark orders to the other children, assigning a few children to find sticks and begin digging the hole to bury the squirrel. And then telling the rest of the group, “We need to pick it up and carry it to the hole”.

Many a “Ewww!!! I’m not touching it!” can be heard from the remaining children. Burying the squirrel seemed like a good idea until there was mention of actually touching it! The bickering on who was going to do it goes on for several minutes.

My oldest son, who is on the autism spectrum, is pacing the perimeter of the playground, as he is sometimes known to do. Today, he is not engaging in the group experiment. My youngest is a part of the group, and remains very quiet, standing the furthest away from the dead animal. While the children continue to argue over the technique to use to get the squirrel over to the hole being dug, the parents hear mention of touching it, and we all shout “DO NOT TOUCH THE SQUIRREL!”

One parent goes over to explain how it could have diseases and it’s never a good idea to touch any animal that you find dead. “Just leave it alone," she says to them and turns and walks back to the rest of us, who are standing on the sidelines talking.

The moment the mom turns her back, the children are back to arguing over new technique ideas that they just thought of, each child passionate and convinced their idea is the one that will solve the problem.

Maybe you’ve seen this scene before, around a conference table at work, amongst your siblings or family members? The ages may be slightly older, but these children are clearly imitating the adults in their lives, negotiating and strategising to come up with the best possible solution.

As the children are arguing, one of the smallest girls leaves the group with determination on her face and a furrowed brow. She is searching the ground for something. The other children call over to her to come back to the group, but she is persistent in her search and eventually finds what she is looking for.

She grabs a big stick and walks back to the group. There is no discussion, she never tells them what she is doing—just does it. She has the look on her face that I’ve seem many women before her wearing, the look that says, “I’m just going to do this myself, so that it gets done!”

The stick is only inches shorter than her and it takes both hands for her to hold it. She ventures off the curb and begins to slide the squirrel over to the curb. It’s a slow process. With each gentle maneuver, the other children scream and jump because suddenly the squirrel looks as if it’s come back to life.
Her courage at times begins to wane, but then she looks at all of the children who are watching her and it ignites her determination to keep going. The smallest boy tries to tell her how to do it, her short curly hair swings when she snaps her head in his direction and gives him a look that says, “Don’t even try to tell me what to do!”
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College Park Patch: Advice for a New Mom

One of my dear friends just had a baby, her fourth. She’s an experienced mom who has gone through the trials of motherhood. She knows the sleepless nights, has mastered nursing in public, and she already knows how to use one hand to feed herself while nursing her baby and correcting an older child’s homework at the same time. None of this is new for her. In a way though, it is. This time the bundle of love lying in her arms is a boy!

As an (ahem) experienced mom to two boys, I have this urge to fill her with advice. I had to stifle myself when I was at her house for a visit to meet the new little one. I wanted to shower her with my words of wisdom, an avalanche on her tired brain.

I grew up in a family of girls; I’m the youngest of five. When I gave birth to a boy, I had no idea what to do with one. I knew how to play Barbies and dress up; not just from my own upbringing but all of my sisters had daughters of their own.

My friend is a phenomenal mother, I watch her with her children and I’m amazed by her patience. But this new gender in her family dynamic is going to shift the way she has always parented. And it’s going to make her notice things in our society about gender, what is expected of her son but not of her daughters. Expectations of his behavior and family traditions that weren’t addressed before he was born will suddenly become important to certain family members.
What would my advice be?
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College Park Patch: Walking Children Through a Death in the Family

                                                                                                   This article was originally published on the College Park Patch.

We are coming up on the one-year anniversary of the death of a dear friend of mine.

I met Monte in college. He was flamboyant and loud and, as a freshman away from home, I was both terrified and fascinated by him.

He had a voice like a gospel angel and wasn’t afraid of conducting a public performance, wherever that might be: Walgreens, a bar or restaurant or randomly in the middle of the sidewalk in New York City where we both went to live after college. When his spirit was moved to song… he sang!

Monte struggled with cancer and died too young at 39 years old. I've been thinking about Monte a lot lately, I’ve been having dreams about him and I know it’s because the anniversary of him dying is only days away. Randomly, when I see someone that reminds me of him or hear a song that I know he’d like, my eyes begin to tear up and I’m instantly reminded that he isn’t here to pick up the phone and call to tell unimportant details of my day to.

“Oh my word Monte, you’ll never believe what this woman at the DMV is wearing!”

My children have noticed my moments of sadness. The other day, out of the blue, my youngest son said, “Mommy can we watch that video of your friend singing to L in your belly?”

I have a video of Monte singing to my belly at my baby shower when I was pregnant with L. If the house were on fire, I’d grab my children and that VHS tape and run. 

We watched it and halfway through my older son appeared in the room, realizing what were watching and said, “I want to see it from the beginning!” So we watched it again and again, never tiring of hearing his beloved voice.

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College Park Patch: Heroes Right in My Neighborhood

 

This article was originally published on the Greenbelt Patch.

Almost weekly my oldest son, L, who is on the Autism Spectrum has a new career that he wants to be when he grows up. His career dreams used to last much longer.

We had an entire year of him wanting to be an engineer, then he dreamed of being a scientist. His longest running dream career yet has been an astronaut, but it was recently was overthrown by being a soldier.

It's hard to explain his desire to be a soldier. We aren’t a military family, and we don’t know anyone currently in the military. He doesn’t even have a cool uncle in uniform that he looks up to, who comes to family functions. But when asked the “what do you want to be when you grow up?” question, the first thing out of his mouth is—soldier.

As school was starting, he met a soldier in person, during the onslaught of extracurricular activities that comes with a new school year. Here's what happened:

I am at the Greenbelt Community Center signing up both of my children for classes when a man in army fatigues enters the office. One of the employees offers to help me at another desk so that both of us can be serviced at the same time. While I stand a few feet away, the boys stay by the door. L’s gaze immediately hooks on this man.

As I look over my shoulder, to keep an eye on my children, I notice the man has a large scar running down the side of his head. L approaches him with his arm stiffly erected in front of him, his hand out to shake the soldier’s hand. The man takes my son’s hands in his and shakes it ever so gently.

I notice that I’m holding my breath for fear that L is going to ask an obtrusive question. Children on the Autism Spectrum don’t have filters and L will speak exactly what is on his mind. Often it’s not the most polite thing to say, but instead it is brutally honest. I'm, of course, worried that L is going to ask him about his scar or worse.

L looks the man in the eye and with a furrowed brow says, “Thank you for the work you did in the war.”

I inhale, biting down on my lip, hoping that holds back the tears that are instantly beginning to well up in my eyes.

The man is obviously surprised by this nine-year-old's respect and thanks him. L says, “Can I ask you something?”

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College Park Patch: Accepting Your Special Needs Child

                                                                                              This article was originally published on the College Park Patch.

Children on the autism spectrum can have unique interests. My son, who is on that spectrum, has gone though many phases. Some have lasted longer than others, and not every one has been socially acceptable for a boy.

The train and superhero phase was pretty easy to accommodate, but when he decided he wanted a butterfly birthday party one year, it was not exactly easy to pull off for a boy. I’m not proud to admit that I convinced him to go a different direction and recycled some of the leftover superhero decorations from the year before.

Accepting your special needs child doesn’t happen overnight. It happens over time. It doesn't come naturally for any parent to accept all of their quirks and interests.

It’s hard in the beginning to navigate the course, learning special diets, possibly medications, and scheduling the various therapy appointments. Eventually, though, it becomes second nature to you.

You learn how to help your child avoid meltdowns by not subjecting him or her to environments that cause breakdowns. You learn what lingo to use when talking to the specialists in your child’s Individualized Education Plan meeting. And you finally embrace who your child is.

My son is making leaps and bounds in his development, and right along with him I’m learning the lesson of acceptance.

This year my son wanted a New York City-themed birthday party. In school he had to do a report on the state of New York. It just so happened that he was born in New York City. While sharing his report with the class, he felt such pride that he was born somewhere that many of the children had never been to. And let’s be honest: NYC is a pretty cool place to be born!

Finding NYC decorations for a party was not easy. But that didn't stop this crafty-loving-mama!

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College Park Patch: Five Free Things To Do With Your Children

                                                                                           This article was originally published on the College Park Patch.

Many of my friends are having babies, and it’s a reminder for me that our children really do grow up fast. In ten years I doubt my son will say, “I wish mom sat on the sidelines more while I played baseball.”

I want my children to remember the time we spent together. I want them to look back on their childhood summers with a smile on their lips.

I spent the beginning of summer rushing from one summer camp to another trying to coordinate pick-ups and drop-offs at the same time in opposite parts of town. I was exhausted, and I caught myself snapping at the children every morning as I stressed about getting each child to camp on time.

To amplify that one of my children is on the Autism Spectrum, and if he is late for something that he knows starts at a particular time it will screw up his entire day. It’s as if he can’t let it go, he’ll continue to worry and think about it.  And needless to say he won’t be fun to be around.

As August approached I felt like we didn’t have much to show for our summer. Sure we went on vacation and the boys went to camp, but I didn’t feel like I had any quality time with my children. I know that once school starts, we will be overwhelmed with activities, PTA and homework.

Whether you are a stay-at-home parent or a working parent; I know you can sympathize with me. Maybe your summer has looked a lot like mine? Tonight change the course of your summer and do the five things listed below.

If your children whine or complain about doing them, say, “Instead we can do chores together? Would you rather wash the baseboards?”    

1. Give each member of your family a small memo pad and one marker, including the adults, and walk around your neighborhood drawing what you see. If you can text and walk, you can draw and walk.

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College Park Patch: Think Twice Before Posting Pictures Online

                                                                                                  This article was originally published on the College Park Patch.

“What is this?” my 7-year-old son asks, pointing at the computer screen, which has my Facebook news feed displayed.

“Oh that’s Facebook,” I reply nonchalantly as I come over to help him log on to a math computer game.

“But why am I on it?”

The look in his eye stopped me in my tracks and I am instantly reminded of a NPR story I heard recently about keeping kids safe online.

The story featured James Steyer, founder ofCommon Sense, an organization that helps parents decide which kinds of technology, movies, television shows, and apps are age-appropriate for their kids. The entire story was enlightening—but the part about posting pictures of your children online has stayed with me.

"I think you can be concerned about that because you never know why they're being used. You're creating a digital footprint. And some of the leading technology executives that I know never put up any pictures of their own children." Steyer warns.

"Once the photo or video is up, it's up there permanently. Even if you delete it, someone else may have already downloaded it or shared it online. So it's a record that's trackable and public and permanent. And your child will have to live with that and sometimes they don't want to. If you do opt to share baby pictures online, make sure your privacy settings are very carefully restricted," Steyer continues.

Our children are growing up in a digital age that is very different than when I was younger. I often joke with friends that I am so thankful that phones didn’t have cameras when I was in college!

I feel “old” when I lecture my twenty-something nieces about posting pictures of themselves doing shots with friends at nightclubs—they aren’t thinking about their job or a future promotion.

Since hearing the story on NPR, I’ve become increasingly aware of the type pictures of my children that I post on social media sites. I don’t want to mistakenly post embarrassing pictures that could later create problems for their careers.

If my son decides to run for President of the United States, will his opponent use pictures that were posted online, years ago, to run negative campaign ad campaigns against him?

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College Park Patch: When Claiming Personal Space Goes Too Far

This article was originally published on the College Park Patch.

My parenting journey began in New York City when I was living in a predominately Haitian neighborhood in Brooklyn. Every day I traveled to work on the 2/3 trains, my belly increasing in size and the rising summer temperatures of New York becoming unbearable (especially on the trains that did not have air conditioning). 

When I would get on the train in the evening in Union Square, the Haitian women would already be well adjusted in their seats, traveling from the Upper East Side, likewise tired from taking care of upper class Caucasian children and their high-maintenance parents. The Haitian women would see my extremely large belly, smile, and typically pat it as I walked by them searching for a seat to no avail. Never was I offered a seat—pats on the belly and gender predictions, but never a seat.

Once my son was born, I was exhausted from the daily fight of living in NYC. I loved this city—I loved the fast pace, the diversity, and the arts—but I was exhausted from having to fight for every square inch of personal space. I was tired of carrying my overpriced Maclaren stroller up four flights of steps to our apartment, tired of being crammed next to strangers in trains with a baby strapped to my chest. I was ready to go. I needed more space!

Ironically I now reside in a small GHI (Greenbelt Homes Inc.) townhouse with my wife and two sons. I actually prefer small spaces, because I believe they keep us from acquiring more than we need. I adore living simply: everything in our space is used, and we value the items we have acquired.

This past week, we went on vacation to Myrtle Beach, SC. It was the first time there for our family, and I was taken aback by the aggressive beach tent culture. Each morning around 6 a.m., other vacationers would be on the beach claiming their ideal oceanfront space with giant 10' x 10' foot tents. What happened to beach umbrellas?

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College Park Patch: Summer Camps and Fun At-Home Ideas

This article was originally published on the College Park Patch.

Summer break is right around the corner, and many parents have been planning for the break from school since January, when camps opened enrollment.

Some of the local camps are competitive to get into; Greenbelt Creative Kids Camp typically fills up fast. Thankfully there are so many summer camp options in our area that are based on the interest of the child; the hardest part is deciding which one to attend.

Art, Robotics and Science at Friends Community School 

Math, Arabic and Sports at Dar-Us-Salaam 

Gymnastics for boys and girls; Gymkana at University of Maryland 

My oldest son, L, goes to a wonderful program for high functioning autistic children with a focus on social skills. The adult-to-child ratio is low, they go on field trips, play games and—most importantly—they continue speech therapy and occupational therapy. Last year my younger son, Z, was overcome with jealousy that L was attending summer camp. This year he will also be enrolled in a local program, but which summer camp to choose? Should we try one type of camp one week and another type of camp another week?

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College Park Patch: Play Quietly—Autistic Children and Music

This article was originally published on the College Park Patch.

Children on the Autism Spectrum often find it difficult to process information gathered through their senses to appropriately react to them. My oldest son, who is on the Autism Spectrum, has such a Sensory Processing Disorder and struggles with a sensitivity to noise that usually prevents him from enjoying music.

Last year he wore noise-reducing headphones in his mainstream music class. A classmate made fun of his headphones and now he refuses to wear them. He then grew his hair long to cover his ears to muffle the sound around him. My son looks "normal"; he acts "normal" most of the time. He doesn't flap his hands or have other behaviors that are red flags for children on the Autism Spectrum. Many people don't realize he's on the spectrum until they spend time observing him. They then become aware of the behaviors that make him "odd." 

At the playground while other children are laughing, running and playing, L can be found laying at the bottom of a slide talking to himself. This is something he does when he's over-stimulated by noise. In order to cope with the environment he needs to lay down and tune out. Because of his sensitivity to noise our family isn't able to enjoy musical concerts.

That is, until this past weekend, when we attended a concert performed by The Capitol Woodwind Quintet. 

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College Park Patch: Telling Your Kids You Have Cancer

This article was originally published on the College Park Patch.

During a recent mammogram, the technician unexpectedly discovered a mass in my left breast.

After the appropriate number of images were taken, I was moved into another room to have an ultrasound performed. I couldn’t see the screen, but the technician had a permanent furrow in her brow as she swiped the wand back and forth over the same area on my breast. She stopped only to type something on the machine, and then she put the wand back to that exact spot. My heart began to race, and I was told the radiologist will speak to me in a few minutes.

The kind eyes of the radiologist and her directness about the mass put me at ease, and she assured me that at my age it’s most likely a benign fibroadenoma and just to be sure they would like to get a biopsy done. Thankfully, due to a cancellation, I was able to come the next afternoon.

I’m really good at keeping it together in these types of situations, but once I closed the door to my minivan, I pressed my forehead into the steering wheel and cried for a solid twenty minutes. I was scared, and it felt like my world was spinning out of control.

The next day, the doctor conducted a vacuum-assisted needle core biopsy to take four samples of the mass. After three long days of waiting, the doctor called to tell me that I have a very rare type of tumor that only 1 percent of women get.

It’s called a Phyllodes tumor.

“You need to see a breast surgeon,” the doctor on the phone informed me.

I tried to respond, but no sound would come from my mouth.

“Now. Oh...and Happy Birthday!”

I waited a few days before I told my children. I wanted to have all the answers to their questions. I did what I do best in these types of situations and I read everything I could on this type of tumor. On a day when everyone was in a good mood I told my 6- and 8-year-old sons that we needed to have a family meeting.

“Remember when I went to the doctor and they had to do some tests on my breast and I had that bandage?”

Both boys nodded their head. My youngest son, Z, chewed on the side of his mouth the way I do when I’m nervous.

“Well the doctor’s found a tumor and it’s called cancer.”

“What’s a tumor?” Z asked.

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