It's been a long while since I last posted, and I'm know many of you faithful readers understand why. I needed some time to pass before I jumped into my usual, crazy day details of boys, boys, boys. I hope all of you had a wonderful holiday and that you know how much I appreciate all the kind words you've sent me. An absolutely phenomenal response. I had no idea how many of you would write back. Hundreds and hundreds. Some of you shared your own stories of loss, and let me tell you, I understand. Others just wrote brief notes of support. You are very kind, and I, profoundly touched by the gesture. Thank you.

And so it is -- Christmas night. My family is tucked in bed after a crazy but wonderful day. I never thought it could be better than it was when I was a kid, tearing through presents, looking for "the one". But it *is* better now. Children make it so much more fun. Who knew what rewarding really meant until they had a child...(or someone else's child to spoil!)


For my avid readers, I regret to tell you that I'm going to take another week or so off the blog to enjoy my family and get settled into the new year. 2007 is going to bring so much to all of us. Ups and downs. Birth and death. Good news and bad. But we'll take it in stride. I, for one, am thinking positively about all the possibilities! After all -- we're all in charge of our own destinies, right?

Have a safe New Year's celebration, friends. I'll start 2007 with pictures, revelations, and even some deep thoughts. We have so much to talk about!! Take good care of yourselves....

There's not a lot in life I know for certain. I haven't traveled the world. I'm not well-connected with hundreds of contacts plugged into my cell phone. And I certainly don't know why my chest and face get so splotchy and red whenever I get nervous.

But some things I do know.

My children will always love me.
Sun-up will never stop being my favorite time of day.
And death won't ever make sense.

I've told myself at least a dozen times that writing this blog feels more like an obligation than a joy. That my honesty and candor do me no favors. That my stories and random thoughts put me on the front line to be judged and criticized. True. They do. But you teach me again and again...no pain...no gain.

Months ago -- I told you about my struggles with infertility and my rollercoaster with IVF. Hundreds of you wrote back. Scores of you asked about fertility treatments. Dozens of you decided to go through it yourselves, and a handful of you right now are pregnant.

I've told you about my family. The Munchers. Joe. My parents. Grandmu. My dear, sweet Grandmu whose mind is sharp but whose body is now failing her. Again, you wrote back. From barf stain cure alls to tips to make a colicky kid sleep through to the night...you shared, too.

I've told you about criticism. And jealousy. And rage. And disappointment. You've read my words and understood them. And hundreds of you have written back.

Yesterday, I told you about my grief. My personal suffering...and the challenge here at work to say goodbye to a sick friend. And you responded in droves.

Perhaps I have it all wrong.

Perhaps it's not *you* I'm reaching out to.

Perhaps it's really *you* -- reaching out to me.

I'll tell you how I said goodbye to my co-worker whose fight with brain cancer seems to be winding down.

Docs say she has a few weeks left.

The chemo's messed up her weight again. She's bald. A beautiful bald. Fuzzy patches of blonde hair like a baby duck's that you can't keep from putting your hands on and touching with your lips in a soft kiss.

The sparkle in her beautiful blue eyes tells me she's not giving up.

But she's tired. So tired.

I sat down right next to her on the couch in our green room. Did my usual stupid jokes, talked about life and her son and her treatment and her energy, looked her straight in the eye and said...I Love You. She looked right back and said...I Know.

I didn't have much time. Just a few minutes before the 5 o'clock news. By the time I got off the set at 6:30, she was gone.

I don't know if I'll ever see her again.

There's an awful lot in life I don't know.

But this morning during my usual ritual of waking up to watch the sun rise... I sat alone, curled up on the sofa, sipped my coffee in the darkness and let the tears roll down my face. She was with me there. Quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful.

And mornings will always be our time together.

I suffered a personal tragedy this week.

Something so searing, it took my breath away.

No details are needed. There's nothing I could write that would explain my sadness. Sort of an about-face for me, no? I've tried to share so much of myself with you on the off chance that maybe you won't feel as alone as you sometimes do. But some things are just too private to share.

I dropped to my knees and buried my face in the carpet and sobbed. A good, long sob. Well, about a 60 second one, at least. Ryan was starting to wake up from a nap, Jack needed lunch before school, and time wasn't going to stop for my misery. I peeled off my clothes, climbed in the shower, and let the shampoo wash away my tears.

The holidays are such a difficult time for so many people. I've never really considered myself one of them because there's so much anticipation in a house filled with children. So much to plan and prepare and present to those wondrous little souls. But as I decorate and fold laundry and keep my family's schedule on track, I can't help but think about the things that didn't go quite right this year. There have been plenty of failures. Disappointments. Let downs. Things to feel sad about.
But what's happening at the station today has me angry at myself for feeling this way.

A friend and former co-worker of mine is coming to the station this afternoon to say goodbye.

She has cancer. And the doctors say she has four weeks to live.

30 years old.

Bright and lively. Always a smile. Always a joke. Always a kind word. It started with bad headaches. It was cancer. Stage four. She had surgery. Even beat the odds. Docs gave her 18 months. She's lived for four years. And despite their warnings, she and her husband fulfilled a dream. They had a baby. A beautiful little boy named Michael Patrick whom doctors delivered months prematurely when they discovered his mother's tumors had returned. And spread. And were ravaging her body.

She went back on chemo. Radiation. Lost 70 pounds. Lost her energy. And now, it seems, has lost her fight.

I don't know what to do when I'll see her. I don't know what to say. "I'm so sorry" isn't good enough. Is "I love you"? "I'll miss you"? or "I'm praying for you"?

This young woman is going to die. Her parents will lose their beautiful daughter. Her husband, a loving wife. And little Michael Patrick? He won't know the joy of her laughter or the kindness in her heart. And I, for one, will miss her so.

The pain from my personal tragedy will ultimately wane. New days will dawn. New challenges will arise. New opportunities to make my own success and my own happiness. My greatest wish is for peace for my friend. Peace in her mind as she closes her eyes on a beautiful journey to heaven. Peace for her family that memories of her in healthy times ease their suffering. Peace for the little child whose first Christmas with his mommy...will be his last.

Holy cow. It's been, what? Two weeks since our last chat? Thank God life's been so relaxing.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

Whew. I totally needed that. Are you completely nuts, too? Is life at your house unusually insane? And the worst part on my end? I can't even blame Christmas. Ths constant chaos has very little to do with that. Okay. It has something to do with that. But it has more to do with my incredible and insatiable guacamole cravings. No. I'm not pregnant. I'm just dying for good Mexican food. And margaritas. On the rocks. With salt. Shot of Grand Marnier on top. And no kids for a night. Now that's dreaming....

So -- here's what's been going on since Thanksgiving. Talk about sexy...

Three milestones. Boring to you. Big to me. Mike lost his first tooth. Kid is almost 7 and he's finally losing a tooth. Why is this so important? One reason. I don't have to see the little thing dangling from a thread 20 times a day anymore. And wouldn't you know it? It was a friend who knocked the darn thing out. I had bet on Jack doing the honors. Oooh, when that's kid's all padded up in his goalie outfit, stuck dodging Mike's merciless chip shots... you can see the blood in his eyes. Alas, it was a cute 6 year old named Aiden who did Mike's toothy honors. (And by the way, this tooth fairy doesn't believe in inflation. It's $2 a pop under my roof. Same as the boys' weekly allowance.)

Second milestone. Ryan is sleeping through the night. Check that. I finally got smart and STOPPED WAKING UP WITH RYAN WHEN HE WAKES UP EVERY NIGHT. And alas... the little crapper is flipping Sleeping Through The Night. Like -- if I did that 6, 8, 10 months ago, would he have slept through the night? I can't even think about it.
It's too painful. And unlike Michael, Ryan's actually SPROUTED his first tooth. I love it when my mother in law's the one to diagnose the Niagara drooling and to feel the sharp bud of the first tooth popping through. I might add he walked at her house first, too. When I wasn't there. AAAAGGGHHH!!

And third, I found a reliable baby sitter who'll watch the boys two Saturday nights a week. Forever. Until the end of time. (Or until they drive her nuts.) OH SWEET VICTORY!! No more bugging my mother in law! No more pestering my sister in law!! A standing reservation with a nice kid who likes my boys. Two nights a month to eat out. To go to a movie that's not animated. To talk to my husband over a meal I didn't cook and a bottle of wine I didn't buy at the liquor store. To shave my legs. To do what I want! HA HA!! How absolutely fabulous does that sound? Regular, plannable, doable times away. Unreal stuff.

And that leads me to this.

Tonight.

I went home after the 6 o'clock news for dinner with Joe and the boys... and we decorated the Christmas tree. This monster 9 foot fir Joe, Mike and Jack picked out at church that I swear is the prettiest tree I've ever seen. Joe and I turned on the carols, lit the fireplace, and together -- enjoyed the sweetest of sights. The boys' eyes -- sparkling -- their little bodies -- dancing to the music, looking for the best places to hang their treasures, singing the songs, telling stories, laughing, getting along, loving life. All...as we watched. Our little creations. For one moment -- peaceful. No -- make that joyous. I dare say a Saturday night away can keep two parents sane. But a Tuesday night together with the boys...is even better.