Most of this is a re-post from last December 31st. I’ve updated a few things, though.

Today is Larisa’s birthday. It has been a stressful birthday for my precious daughter. It was Lily’s second clinic day. Larisa has said repeatedly that the only thing she wants for her birthday is for Lily’s final labs for this week to come back with zero leukemia cells. We will find out the tentative lab results on Friday and the final lab results on Monday.

So, more than any other year, I am holding precious Larisa in my thoughts and prayers on her birthday today.

On December 31, 1974, RT and I were thrilled to become the parents of our precious Larisa, affectionately nicknamed Stinkeroo by her Grandshaw. Before her birth, RT and I would listen to her heartbeat with a stethoscope. 1974 was before the days of periodic sonograms. So we had no idea whether or not our baby would be a boy or a girl until after the birth. We went into the labor room at the hospital knowing that we’d either walk out with a Paul or a Larisa - we didn’t know which. Ever since I had seen the movie Dr. Zhivago, I knew that I wanted to name the daughter I hoped to have someday Larisa. For awhile we toyed around with calling her by the nickname for Larisa - Lara - but then decided to stick with Larisa. When she was born and we found out that our first child was a girl, we were so happy and we knew immediately her name. The baby was our Larisa that we had been looking forward to for years. She was basically bald for the first three years of her life, but as she grew, she also grew dark curly hair and beautiful brown eyes. She was happy and energetic and a parent’s dream. She thoroughly wrapped her dad and me around her little finger.

The above photo is one of my favorites. It shows her enthusiastic and mischievous nature. I’ve always loved her smile.

This picture is also a favorite. It shows Larisa with her younger brother, Joey. The pigtails were typical. She was an athletic go-getter child - always interested in life, sports, being with friends, and she was/is a great sister to her brother. They had their spats, but have always remained close to each other.

This is how she often slept as a baby - on her back with her arms flung out to her sides. As in everything, she put herself wholeheartedly into sleep, too. She was confident and happy.

This is one of the photos from her wedding to Steve - along with their “baby” (at the time), Caesar. Caesar passed on to doggie heaven quite a few years ago, and they now have two human babies - my wonderful grandgirls - pictured below.

I first wrote about Stinkeroo’s birthday on December 31, 2005, and then on December 31, 2006, I wrote about her again. I hope you have a wonderful birthday, my precious Larisa! Most of all, I hope you get her birthday wish.

About today, December 31, 2008. I was up early in order to be at Larisa and Steve’s house to pick up Sophie at 6:45. Sophie would spend the day with me while Steve and Larisa took Lily for her “clinic” at the hospital. Today would be the big day for Lily - a lumbar puncture and bone marrow aspiration to determine her blood counts, and to make sure that there are zero leukemia cells in her bone marrow. Results won’t be known for a few days.

One thing that was very clear to me today is how much Sophie loves her mother. Of course I already knew that both girls absolutely adore their mother. However, Sophie was so happy to be able to help me prepare dinner for them and then get a cake, birthday balloons candles for the cake and make little apple tarts as a special treat - since Lily loves apple pie so much. Sophie was just ecstatic in her excitement over preparing some birthday surprises for her mother. Sweet, sweet, sweet.

I will always remember my precious Stinkeroo, as a toddler and young child, running up to the TV whenever she heard “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood” come on. As Fred Rogers sang “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood”, Stinkeroo would wrap her arms around the TV and chant in her sweet child lispy voice, “Mr. Rogerts Mr. Rogers! Mr. Rogers!”

Fred Rogers

Fred Rogers’ message that children are loved and accepted exactly as they are was something that touched the hearts of children who tuned in daily to see his low-key and affirmative show.

Fred Rogers

As I was reading news on the web this morning, I came across a piece in Mental Floss on “Fifteen Reasons Why Mr. Rogers Was the Best Neighbor Ever.” I’ve included my favorites here. Click the link to read all of them. We miss you, Mr. Rogers!

2. He Made Thieves Think Twice
According to a TV Guide piece on him, Fred Rogers drove a plain old Impala for years. One day, however, the car was stolen from the street near the TV station. When Rogers filed a police report, the story was picked up by every newspaper, radio and media outlet around town. Amazingly, within 48 hours the car was left in the exact spot where it was taken from, with an apology on the dashboard. It read, “If I’d known it was yours, we never would have taken it.”

6. He Was Genuinely Curious about Others
Mister Rogers was known as one of the toughest interviews because he’d often befriend reporters, asking them tons of questions, taking pictures of them, compiling an album for them at the end of their time together, and calling them after to check in on them and hear about their families. He wasn’t concerned with himself, and genuinely loved hearing the life stories of others. Amazingly, it wasn’t just with reporters. Once, on a fancy trip up to a PBS exec’s house, he heard the limo driver was going to wait outside for 2 hours, so he insisted the driver come in and join them (which flustered the host). On the way back, Rogers sat up front, and when he learned that they were passing the driver’s home on the way, he asked if they could stop in to meet his family. According to the driver, it was one of the best nights of his life - the house supposedly lit up when Rogers arrived, and he played jazz piano and bantered with them late into the night. Further, like with the reporters, Rogers sent him notes and kept in touch with the driver for the rest of his life.

8. He Could Make a Subway Car full of Strangers Sing
Once while rushing to a New York meeting, there were no cabs available, so Rogers and one of his colleagues hopped on the subway. Esquire reported that the car was filled with people, and they assumed they wouldn’t be noticed. But when the crowd spotted Rogers, they all simultaneously burst into song, chanting - “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.” The result made Rogers smile wide.

9. He got into TV because he hated TV. The first time he turned one on, he saw people angrily throwing pies in each other’s faces. He immediately vowed to use the medium for better than that. Over the years he covered topics as varied as why kids shouldn’t be scared of a haircut, or the bathroom drain (because you won’t fit!), to divorce and war.

12. He was a perfectionist, and disliked ad libbing. He felt he owed it to children to make sure every word on his show was thought out.

14. Several characters on the show are named for his family. Queen Sara is named after Rogers’ wife, and the postman Mr. McFeely is named for his maternal grandfather who always talked to him like an adult, and reminded young Fred that he made every day special just by being himself. Sound familiar? It was the same way Mister Rogers closed every show.

15. The sweaters. Every one of the cardigans he wore on the show had been hand-knit by his mother.

See! There is a reason so many people loved Mr. Rogers. God rest his soul and bless his family.

The past three weeks, my little family has been dealing with the possibility that our precious 33-year old daughter - known here as “Stinkeroo” - might have inflammatory breast cancer. If you read about that type of cancer, it’ll scare you: aggressive, rare, hard to treat. As I read about IBC online, I realized that Stinkeroo’s symptoms were textbook - right down the line. We were all scared - and the slow-moving ways of the medical folks didn’t help alleviate our worry.

After appointments with various doctors, after sonograms, mammograms, and several biopsies - and that agonizing week-long wait for final biopsy results - we have the results. No malignant cells found. Today Stinkeroo has an appointment with a breast specialist who will hopefully be able to determine what is going on. We can now breathe again.

In the meantime, enjoy my theme song for the results:

I was in high school when “Dr. Zhivago” came out in 1965. I loved the movie. I bought the book. I loved the book, too. I researched the characters. When I read that the “Lara” in the story was a nickname for Larisa, I swore that if I ever had a daughter, I would name her Larisa. It was the most beautiful female name I’d ever heard.

One of the last scenes in the movie - Dr. Zhivago having a heart attack as he watches Lara walking past unaware that he’s there - the whole idea of lost and war-torn love. It was romantic, it was sad, it was emotionally wrenching, it was memorable.

Years passed, and RT and I had our first child - a girl. We named her Larisa. I still love the name - and always will. Now, for us, “Larisa” is so eternally wrapped around our sweet daughter with the dark curly hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and because of that, I love the name even more. I rarely think of the connection between our daughter’s name and “Dr. Zhivago.” It moved beyond that connection long ago. Our Larisa is definitely her own person - the CEO of a successful business, the mother of our two wonderful grandgirls, and someone I talk to every day.

There could not have been any more perfect actors to play the key roles in the movie. Omar Sharif and Julie Christie became Dr. Zhivago and Lara.

On December 31, 1974, RT and I were thrilled to become the parents of our precious Larisa, affectionately nicknamed Stinkeroo by her Grandshaw.  Before her birth, RT and I would listen to her heartbeat with a stethoscope.  1974 was before the days of periodic sonograms.  So we had no idea whether or not our baby would be a boy or a girl until after the birth.  We went into the labor room at the hospital knowing that we’d either walk out with a Paul or a Larisa - we didn’t know which.  Ever since I had seen the movie Dr. Zhivago, I knew that I wanted to name the daughter I hoped to have someday Larisa.  For awhile we toyed around with calling her by the nickname for Larisa - Lara - but then decided to stick with Larisa.  When she was born and we found out that our first child was a girl, we were so happy and we knew immediately her name.  The baby was our Larisa that we had been looking forward to for years.  She was basically bald for the first three years of her life, but as she grew, she also grew dark curly hair and beautiful brown eyes.  She was happy and energetic and a parent’s dream.  She thoroughly wrapped her dad and me around her little finger.

The above photo is one of my favorites.  It shows her enthusiastic and mischievous nature.  I’ve always loved her smile.

This picture is also a favorite.  It shows Larisa with her younger brother, Joey.  The pigtails were typical.  She was an athletic go-getter child - always interested in life, sports, being with friends, and she was/is a great sister to her brother.  They had their spats, but have always remained close to each other.

This is how she often slept as a baby - on her back with her arms flung out to her sides. As in everything, she put herself wholeheartedly into sleep, too.  She was confident and happy.

This is one of the photos from her wedding to Steve - along with their “baby” (at the time), Caesar.   Caesar passed on to doggie heaven quite a few years ago, and they now have two human babies - my wonderful grandgirls - pictured below. 

I first wrote about Stinkeroo’s birthday on December 31, 2005, and then on December 31, 2006, I wrote about her again.  I hope you have a wonderful birthday, my precious Larisa!

My lovely daughter, Stinkeroo, is 32 years old - almost 33 - and it’s scary how much we think alike.  Last week I found a purse that I love on eBay, and so I bought it.  I bought it because it is very similar to a purse that she has - just a different style, but the same pattern/fabric.  Everytime I’ve seen her purse the past couple months, I’ve commented on how much I like it.  The purse I ordered arrived on Friday, and I love it as much as I thought I would!  So yesterday I called my daughter to tell her about it - only to find out that she had already bought the exact same purse for me as a Christmas present. 

Another example:  Last week we were talking and she said she’d found the perfect gift for my mother.  It turns out that her gift was exactly the same thing that I had already bought for my mother for Christmas.  I told her I’d get something different. 

Stuff like that happens all the time, and I feel a little guilty about it.  Now don’t ask me WHY I should feel guilty that I went ahead and bought the purse that I wanted - I had no idea she’d already bought it for me - or why I should feel guilty that I had bought my mother the same gift that she had bought her.  Still, though, I feel a little guilty about it.  Like maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to handle things sometimes.

I keep trying to convince myself that this is a GOOD thing - that we are so similar in nature and thoughts.  However, it does get to be a problem at times.