Life is uncertain: Hug your kids, say 'I love you,' and make the most of the time you have

I have a friend who just found out a relative's cancer has returned. The diagnosis isn't good - the doctors have given him four months to live.

The news was just beginning to sink in . "Four months," she told me. "That's basically a summer. One summer, and he'll be gone."

I know what she's going through - somewhat. Sometimes the people we think we'll have around us forever disappear in a heartbeat. Nearly seven years ago, my beautiful, fun-loving sister laid down with a terrible headache; days later, she was dead from a stroke.

Life is so transient, isn't it? We think we'll have so much time - to hug those kids, to take that trip, to write that book, to get that great job. But you just never know.

My friend is at a loss; I hate to see it. But she has the right attitude.

"I bought a bag of jelly beans the other day," she told me. "I felt so silly - but he loves jelly beans. I thought, 'There's not much I can do, really, but be there ... and I just want to make sure he has all the little things around him he likes.'"

She's right, I thought.  There's no guarantees. We can just surround ourselves with the people and the things we love and make the most of the time we have.

Then we cross our fingers and say our prayers.

Things you learn spending time with your teen-age daughter (Hint: watch your mouth)

You learn a few things when you go shopping with your teen-age daughter.

You learn that some of the most popular stores have incredibly loud music, really narrow aisles and lots of girls so skinny you could probably bench-press them.

You learn that the style of shorts that you wear on a regular basis is hopelessly uncool.

You learn that the one way to get your daughter to never, ever listen to a song again is to say that you heard it in Jazzercize.

And bizarrely, you learn that you're not allowed to say the word "panty." Go figure. Although it's plastered all over the windows of Victoria's Secret, if  it comes from your mouth, it's suddenly gross and inappropriate.

Instead, you must use the word "underwear." And even then, for goodness' sakes, use it sparingly and try not to talk really loud or make a scene. Don't even think about touching one of the bras.

But despite all that, you also learn that spending that one-on-one time with your daughter is an incredibly fun way to spend an afternoon. You know - as long as you watch your mouth.

Spring break? Already? You've got to be kidding!

My husband threw me for a loop with his question. "What do you want to do over spring break?" he asked.

Um, what? Spring break? He had to be kidding. I'm still packing away the last of the Christmas decor - just last week I found a stray box of hooks on a bookshelf.  Surely it can't be time to plan for a spring vacation already.

Besides, I still have the vacation pamphlets I picked up last spring - you know, the one  for bicycle rentals, the one for that expensive bed and breakfast inn.  By next spring break, I remember reasoning, I'll probably be so slim and fit we can all include bike riding and extensive hiking in our plans. And I'm sure I'll have saved up money over the year, so we can splurge and stay someplace nice.

Hmmm. Not so much.

Okay, so I know where the money went - it went to braces, bills and broken home appliances. And those fitness goals? I think it was nearly February before I broke down and ate frosting from the can.

But time? I could have sworn I had more of that.

Working (slowly) toward the power of positive thinking

What a wonderful life I've had! I only wish I'd realized it sooner!" - Colette


I usually give up chocolate, or pop. One time, I think, I tried to give up coffee. But not this year.

I'm talking about Lent, of course. Lent, for me,  is a season of reflection, of spiritual housecleaning. I give up a little something, or try to add something meaningful to my life.

I'm not always successful - and in the past, my changes haven't mattered much. So this year, I'm trying something a little different. I'm trying to give up negative thinking.

It's easier said than done, believe me. It seems negativity is everywhere - or maybe I just attract it like a fly to honey. But I'm doing my best to push it away.  I'm reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, which is enlightening, and I'm hanging out with my kids ... they seem to have the right attitude.

It's an uphill battle - my old habits die hard. And I get impatient quickly. But I'll go slowly, see what I can do in 40 days. Every bit of change, I would think, is a good thing

Hey .... that's a positive thought right there, isn't it?

Tae kwon do brings out mom's overprotective side

My little princess broke two wooden boards the other night - one with a palm strike, the other with a sidekick. The first board broke on the initial try. With the second board, it took her two kicks to break it.

It was part of her tae kwon do graduation to a higher belt. I sat in the audience, holding my breath. I wasn't feeling well, coming down with a cold or flu - likely whatever was being passed around at the local elementary - and I felt cranky and out of sorts.

I was afraid she'd break her hand, break her foot. I was wondering how smart I'd been, signing her up for this whole sport. I thought about when she was little, all the cute little dance outfits I'd bought her, the ones she refused to wear. I sighed.

Then the sparring part of the graduation began, where the students practice fight moves with others at their level. One girl got kicked in the mouth; a boy bent over double after a hit to the ribs. I could feel my anxiety rising. The hits were accidents, of course, but they happened nevertheless.

A particularly large student, one of the advanced ones, seemed very rough. "Would you let you daughter spar with him?" I hissed to my husband. "He looks like Goliath. No way is she ever sparring with him."

He shrugged. "If she was ready," he answered mildly.

After the graduation, my daughter was jubilant. She showed me her boards, re-enacted where her hand and foot landed on each one, told me how nervous she was beforehand and how she calmed herself down by counting.

"I'm saving these," she said, gloating over the broken wood. "I'm putting them in my room."

I looked at her, and my heart swelled with pride. I wondered then, about my earlier thoughts. Was I being sensible, or simply overprotective?  Only time will tell. It's a bridge I'm not looking forward to crossing.

Vanity, thy name is Control-Top High-Top Tights

The dress was pretty - it was black and simple, with a flowing little skirt. It seemed I'd gotten lucky - I'd actually found a last-minute selection for a church Valentine's dance my husband and I were going to that night.

But looking critically into the dressing room mirror, I realized there was an ... issue. Yep, right there in the middle. Was that a little bit of, um, tummy? Well, that wouldn't do at all. But surely, there were ways to camouflage a little figure flaw, right?

Oh, are there ever. I had no idea what torturous controlling undergarments await those who have been avoiding the gym. Spanx, Assets, Control-Top High-Top Tights - frankly, I was lost. I had no idea what to choose.  Fingering a couple of the garments, I was doubtful. They were all expensive. And they didn't look terribly comfortable. They looked like they could be used to stop a speeding bullet, or protect against shark attacks.

After much deliberation - and much muttering at price tags - I  went with the Control-Top High-Top tights. Putting them on was crazy - I'm surprised I didn't dislocate a hip. And they went up, up, up - I'm glad the dress didn't have a plunging neckline.  I was supposed to dance in this? I felt like I was encased in rubber cement. And I was pretty certain they were on for the duration.

But in the name of vanity, I persevered. They did their job, and I did mine. I danced, I sat, stood and even ate dinner. And when I returned home, I took a deep, grateful breath and made a silent commitment to visit the gym just a little more often.

When dad leaves, the house just isn't the same

My husband left on a business trip last week - out of pocket, out of reach, out of the country.

I didn't think it would be that big of a deal; I'm a big girl, after all. I know how to take care of myself. I didn't realize, however, that taking care of everything and everyone would be so overwhelming.

The kids. The shopping. The homework. The house. Work. Cat. Dog. Everything. Everything due and overdue, pending and marking time. I tried. I managed. I delegated. I had one meltdown that left my children in tears. By the end of the week, I was exhausted.

I think when you live with a person, day after day, see them nearly every hour, it's easy to take them for granted. You forget all they do, how much they mean to you, how empty the house seems when they're gone.

My husband is back now, and there's a semblance of normalcy returning. But I'll think twice before so casually waving him out the door again.