Kristin Bryant's Blog

I’m trying desperately to make sense out of life with four kids (2 of them are 1 year old twins…kill me now). The question I am asked more than, “are those twins?” (No lady, the hospital was having a buy one, get one free sale!) is, “How do you do it?” I've thought about the best way to answer that question and I've decided it's all about one word: priorities. Sounds simplistic, and it is, but it's also true. When my kid-count doubled overnight a year ago, I’ve found that prioritizing the can’t-give-ups and the can-give-ups has made all the difference.
Can't-give-ups:

I have to take care of my kids.Duh. I have to be a good mom. If I fail here, I fail everywhere. So that doesn't budge. It is my top priority. The diapers, the screaming, the fighting, the whining, the oatmeal-flung-farther-than-an-olympic-shotput and every if-I-step-on-one-more-cherrio-I'm-gonna-lose-my-chiz moment... for every reason, it is the most important thing I do. I lump religion in here too. You gotta put the Big Man first.
I will not give up taking care of my appearance on the daily. This straight-up comes from surviving cancer. There was a point during chemo when I had no hair, no eyelashes, and even my fingernails were falling off. Forget changing out of yoga pants. It hurt too much move. Not only that, but the double mastectomy left me feeling ugly, androgynous and alien-like. If Voldermort and a non-anatomically correct mannequin had a baby, it would look like I did. As soon as I started to get my health back, doing my hair and makeup and getting dressed were a luxury that I didn’t take for granted. I still don’t. Hair, makeup, real clothes (not nice or super pretty clothes- Old Navy or Target sponsor 80% of my wardrobe)- it's a priority. 

I should add that I cheat here. I have a pixie cut so it literally takes me 10 minutes to make my hair look like I cared. 
I will not give up exercise. I have an AMAZING yoga instructor that says very adamantly that taking care of yourself is not a selfish practice. He usually yells it as I’ve already been sitting in a 100-degree hot-yoga room for an hour on the verge of heat stroke, but I appreciate that he says it, because it is true. Everyone needs to exercise. It needs to be a priority. Your body and brain don’t run right without it. And of course, having your body betray you so wholly and making cancer in the first place reminds you that your body made cancer once, it can do it again. I have to exercise. I do yoga, ballet and Zumba four nights a week after the kids are in bed.
I will not give up writing.I’m not the most amazing author ever born. I’m never going to be a billionaire because of my books. I don’t care. Writing feeds me. It feeds my need for accomplishment. It makes me feel good about myself and it even sometimes feeds others’ love of literature. It is a relationship that has given me hope and excitement through some very dark times. Even though it is time consuming and I usually have no time to give, I have to write.
I have to work. I just do. I live in a really nice city in Orange County. We are trying to buy a house in this really nice city in Orange County. Working from home and making a steady, legitimate income and saving for retirement is just something that comes with the territory. I deal with it.
   Those are my can't-give-ups. The things I have to work around. But there are some things that I can give up to make all the pieces fit.
I can give up the pursuit of a perfect homeIt is organized and things get done that need to get done, but most rooms have kid-caused messes. It bothers me less and less as life gets busier and busier. I’ve come to peace with not having a perfect house in this season of life. I’m not sure I’d get along with a mom who can keep a perfect house. They just aren’t my people.
I can give up some sleep. I hate 6:20 am for obvious reasons. It’s 6-freaking-20 am. But that’s when I get up. I go to sleep around midnight. The babies wake me up once or twice through the night. 6:20 am comes and I just want to punch night me for staying up for those extra ten minutes looking at my Instagram feed. I could get away with sleeping in until 7:30 am and still get everyone out the door to school and work, and I did that for months after the babies were born, but then I sacrificed taking care of myself.  My husband would leave for work and come home eight hours later and I looked exactly the same as I did when he left. Maybe I had put a bra on, maybe. It wasn’t a good look. So I put myself as a priority, getting up an hour early to put myself together because made me feel better. I do it for me.
I can give up some TV.Not all TV. I’m not insane. I need TV. I binge watch a billion things on Netflix while I’m cleaning, organizing, running or grading papers that I don’t really have to think about too hard. But I did give up sitting in front of the TV and watching most shows. In fact, I couldn't tell you what the actors in my favorite shows look like because I'm just listening to the dialogue and not watching the screen when I am "watching" tv. I still miss me some Amazing Race. And I never know who the Bachelor chose as he waits to be on Dancing with the Stars, and I honestly don't know if America's Next Top Model is even on anymore, but tv got notched down on the ol’ priorities list so I could make way for more important things.
I can give up some chill time. My time to relax will come as the kids get better at not dying or killing each other if left alone for two minutes. Literally, the babies watch for me to turn my back so they can perform death-defying feats. And I should just give up and build an MMA ring in my backyard for my two older boys.  But to get work done and to make sure everyone is alive at bedtime, there is no nap time or putting my feet up for a little bit. It'll come later. 
I hate 6:20 am. Really, what a terrible time of the day. But it represents how my life had to change so everything fits better. Changing my priorities lets me conquer this little world of mine every single day.

How do YOU make everything fit as you conquer your world every day? 

The end of pregnancy brings with it a myriad of things- mood swings, stretch-marks, weird symptoms that couldn’t possibly be related to pregnancy and yet it is (Is my nose really getting bigger???). The end of pregnancy also brings with it a whole lot of attention. And for some reason, the bigger the belly, the more attention you tend to attract. I’ve found that both strangers and acquaintances alike all tend to ask/say the same things to me, so in case you were wondering what a mom pregnant with twins hears on any given day, wonder no more, friends!
1.       "Wow, when is your due date? You look like you are about to pop!" First, no mom-to-be wants to picture themselves rupturing like an overblown balloon. And no, I’m not due soon enough to warrant looking this big. There’s two babies in there. Back off.(Also, I’m not sure what it is about pregnancy making people feel like they are allowed to comment on your size. If you want to comment on how big I am, don’t be offended if I turn around and comment on your size right back.)2.       “How are you sleeping?”Is ‘not really at all’ an answer? Since there are two, someone is always kicking the other and waking them up. I'm worried they've already formed some sort of vendetta against each other... or against me for not expanding fast enough. So usually I just cat nap between urgent sprints to the bathroom as the babies train for MMA on my bladder. 3.       “You look uncomfortable.”That’s because I’m uncomfortable. Mic drop. 4.       “Is a twin pregnancy different from a single?”Absolutely. First, you never quite recharge your battery because the drain on your energy is so immense. And that’s not even mentioning the mental toll getting ready for two infants takes. The worry, the fear, the doubt, the terror… But, on the other hand, I split my calories three-ways, so I really don’t ever feel guilty over eating half of a chocolate cake. So, I got that going for me. 5.       “I’ve always wanted twins.”I only hear this from people who don’t have kids, mostly teenage girls. I’ve had this thought in my pre-mom days. But from other moms, I usually get…6.       “Boy, I’m glad it is you and not me.”Actually, I am too, especially if you are saying this out loud to someone pregnant with twins. You have to be tough to deal with twins. I’m tough. 7.       “How are you going to handle twins?”See answer number 4. Also, I’m a cancer survivor. I’d take twins any day. Any FREAKING day.8.       “You should sit down.” “You shouldn’t be walking.” “Did your doctor say it was okay to hold your toddler?” I’ve been thinking about keeping the $15,000+ bill for IVF in my purse and pulling it out for these people to see, just so they are aware of the monetary, emotional and physical investment I have made in these babies. I wouldn’t do anything to harm them. And if I want to walk, or play or pick something up, I’m gonna do it. 9.       “You look great.” Thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone who has paid a pregnant girl this compliment. There is something about the end of pregnancy that is so physically and emotionally draining, that kind words about one’s appearance really are just that- very kind.10.    “You are going to be an awesome twin mom.”And also, a big thank you to anyone who says kind things about a twin mom’s impending adventure. Any girl that finds out they are pregnant with two launches straight into worst-case-scenario thinking. I’ve learned from my 8 months of study that twin success is all about attitude and I’m grateful for any words of encouragement that keep me from going nuts.
I’ll save the nuts for when the kids actually arrive.  

WARNING: This is a LONG post. For those of you here for the short version, we are expecting twins in April!

Now for the rest of you with some time on your hands, here’s the story of what cancer survivors go through to have kids after chemo:
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, losing my hair didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Hair grows back. Even losing my health for close to a year wasn’t that big of a sacrifice if it meant being able to be cancer-free at the end of it. The double mastectomy was a pretty big blow, but hey, it wasn’t like I was losing an arm or a leg. I would deal with it. By all accounts, I was doing pretty well with all of it. I was fine. Until they told me I would most likely not be able to have kids afterwards. That was most decidedly NOT fine. Cancer could only push me so far. Giving up future children was over the line. WAY over. [image error] What babies look like at 5 days
My only option was egg retrieval through invitro before chemo started, since chemotherapy kills human eggs. I kept having a vision of myself on an island with volcano errupting. I saw myself putting my future children out onto a life raft and sending them out into the safety of the ocean while I stayed on the island to survive the erruption, or in this case, chemo.
After countless hours of prayer, and some very loud promptings from God (I don’t say that lightly, we had completely decided against the procedure until Heavenly Father intervened), Kurt and I decided to invest what little we had into the egg retrieval process that would save at least the genetic starts to future children.  I came out of my double mastectomy and Kurt started the shots the very next day while I was still in the hospital.
Yes, 3 pregnancy tests...


About a month later, trying to heal from two amputations and being pumped full of synthetic hormones, and just a few days before chemo started, I had my egg retrieval procedure. It didn’t go well, but we got five embryos frozen from it (most women can get 20-50 in one round, so five is actually pretty crappy).
And then I didn’t really think about them again for a good year-and-a-half. I was just trying to survive chemo and radiation. The doctors all said I needed to wait at least one year from the end of chemo, so that’s what I did. I hit that mark and children all of the sudden became the most important thing to take care of. 
Every. Single. Night.We started the process, which was more money than we anticipated and WAY more shots than should be allowed, and had the embryo transfer at the beginning of August. We put in two embryos, because that’s what you do. If you only transfer one and it doesn’t take, it is another few thousand dollars to get your body ready again. So yeah, you put in two. 
I was not surprised in the least when twins were confirmed. Like I said, Heavenly Father had been very loud about this procedure being necessary, so I knew what was coming. Rather, I know who was coming. 
They are my miracles. They are the very bright light at conclusion of cancer. Because without cancer, I wouldn’t have these two. And these two needed to come. They are ready to come. 
Am I sick? Horribly. Honestly, it is so bad. Am I tired? Like I’ve only experienced during chemo. Well, hello there you two!I have been getting nightly shots of hormones for almost ten weeks in the same spot. Hint: I can barely sit down anymore. 
Growing twins is hard. But it’s hard to be anything but grateful about the privilege of carrying two little ones who need to come to Earth at this time. I am truly grateful to just be along for the ride. 
So, if you haven't yet, this would be a GREAT time to buy The Others on Amazon, since formula is expensive... just putting that out there. Or tell EVERYONE you know about it.

Click HERE for Amazon
And also, someone needs to pass a law that post-mastectomy moms get free formula for life. That should just be a thing.

Yes, I'm trying to be social media trendy with the title of this post. In fact, what you are about to see may not shock you at all...if you know my husband.This is a tribute to the one of the best men I know. I was smart enough to get in on the ground floor and say yes when he asked the big question.

I followed Kurt around for a week snapping iPhone pictures of how he spends his time. There were a few times when he caught me and said, "Did you just take a picture of me, stalker?" I would deny it and he would forget about it...because he's a guy.

So here is my Father's Day tribute to my wonderful husband. Because no matter what he does, no matter where he goes, you will always find him right back next to me.


 You won’t find him drinking at the table
Rolling dice or staying out ’til three
You won’t ever find him be unfaithful
You will find him, you’ll find him next to me
(Kurt comes home from the gym at 6:45 am, just in time to make the kids breakfast...while I sleep for another 25 minutes)
You won’t find him trying to chase the devil
For money, fame, for power, out of greed
You won’t ever find him where the rest go
You will find him, you’ll find him next to me.
 (If he isn't at home or work, he's giving service at our church. Yeah, I took a picture at church.)
When the money’s spent and all my friends have vanished
And I can’t seem to find no help or love for free
I know there’s no need for me to panic
Cause I’ll find him, I’ll find him next to me.
 (He's a kind and excellent doctor. He works so hard to support us.)
 When the skies are grey and all the doors are closing
And the rising pressure makes it hard to breathe
When all I need's a hand to stop the tears from falling
I will find him, I’ll find him next to me.
 (I got home from ballet late one night. There he is folding laundry. This is a normal occurrence.)
 When the end has come and buildings falling down fast
When we’ve spoiled the land and dried up all the sea
When everyone has lost their heads around us
You will find him, you’ll find him next to me.
 
Happy Father's Day Kurt. I love you.And hey, I saved $5.00 on a card by doing this. Double win.

I’ve had a few friends get cancer diagnoses recently (also let it be known that the longer you live, the more life tends to mess with your loved ones- be ye warned). Their struggle and mine brought to mind an experience I had a few years ago.  
I was in a Children’s museum and happened to be there on the day the chicken eggs in the incubator were hatching. I do believe it is somewhere in the bylaws of opening up a children’s museum- you MUST have an incubator full of chicken eggs at all times.
I was a new mom at the time and it completely broke my heart to see those little creatures struggling so greatly to crack through their shell. I even nervously looked around for a farmer, a doctor, some sort of egg-ologist, ANYONE who would be there to help these little fuzzy babies out of their white-walled predicaments.
I thought, couldn’t I just reach in and crack each egg and send them waddling on their way? Why are we allowing these guys to struggle this much? Shouldn’t someone be boiling some water? Bringing towels? What else do they send men to do in old movies when women are having babies?
The elderly volunteer noticed my look of panic and said, “You know, they have to go through that. If we helped them out of their shells, they would most likely die. Breaking through their shell gives it the strength it needs to survive. You have to let it struggle.”
I’ve since learned that chicks are not alone. Even the struggle a butterfly must go through when it forces itself out of its cocoon is the only way to get fluid into its new wings. Without that struggle, the butterfly dies.
Sometimes the act of struggling for animals isn’t optional. It makes them strong.
It, unfortunately, it is the same with us. The struggle makes us grow. The struggle makes us tougher. It is a refining process that can make us better humans on the other side. I try to remember this example when things get difficult, when life is unfair, when people are disappointing, when cancer decides to mess with some amazing people.
Fight on ladies. Fight on friends. Whatever is in your way, let the struggle make you even better, stronger, and of course, cooler on the other side.   

What do Ursula the Sea Witch, Syndrome from the Incredibles and Kristin Bryant all have in common?
    Yep, it’s the hair. 
And come to think of it…
What the crap, Disney?
My astute little six-year old made the connection a few days ago. I now have the haircut of a villain. And whose not to say that I have the brains of one as well little six-year-old who points out that mommy looks like a bad guy? 
The toll booth guy at the cancer center stopped me the other day and told me that I looked like trouble. He must not have seen the mustard stain on my shirt from packing kid’s lunches, the dry cleaning in the backseat I had to drop off for my husband, the dirty SUV I was driving or the fact that I was leaving THE CANCER CENTER. But I digress.
It has been 365 days since my cancer diagnosis. 365 days full of tragedy of the deepest kind, amazing personal heights, and come to think of it, almost 365 really bad hair days (which meant looking a lot like this for the better part of a year).

So, I’m taking joy in my chance to rock something of an unconventional ‘do for a while, even if it means I look like, well… trouble…

P.S. If you see someone who looks a heck of a lot like me robbing a bank in the near future, just remember- the hair made me do it. 

What do you mean, this is a bad idea?
I’ve never really thought of myself as petty. I never imagined I was the type to want to go to Costco, buy their largest flat of eggs, google-map a stranger’s house (with street-view of course) and throw the whole flat of said eggs at that stranger’s google-mapped front door…But, here we are. I got a “meh” review the other day. And as I stated above, chickens from the tri-county area were put on notice to start peak production- I had a crazy urge to hunt this person (or at least their front door) DOWN! Cooler heads prevailed (i.e. my husband reminding me that eggs can get expensive when you are buying them by the forklift-full), but it was still an uncomfortable experience. Since when have I ever had perfect strangers rate me on a daily basis? Last time I checked, I’m not on Tinder (look it up, old people). This little experience taught me a few very important things: -          - I have some aggressive tendencies I didn’t know existed. It might be fun to explore that… -          - I am still here. I got a ho-hum review and I kept on existing. This actually means that a bad review really isn’t the end of the world. I sort of thought it would be.-I am out there in the marketplace. I did enough marketing and interviews in the right places that a random stranger at least tried my book. I’m counting that as a win.
So here I am, toughening up, learning, building, ugh, character. Boy, do I ever hate building character. It never includes cupcakes.  

Yep, New Year. Yep, obligatory resolutions post. (Insert bored sigh here). I post them here so ya'll can keep me honest. Nothing gets results like pledging in front of a crowd. So here we go! 10 steps to a 2014 that beats the PANTS off 2013:
. Take THAT 2013!!!10. I’m not willing to say that I will not ever take a spoon to a can of frosting or jar of hot fudge (because that is just ridiculous), but I want to maybe do it a little less this year.
. 9. I got a ukulele for Christmas. By the end of the year, I willplay “Dancing With Myself” by Billy Idol on it like a freaking rock star. And if I am brave, I’ll even post the video here.
. 8. I will finish a good, working draft of book 2 this year. Yikes.
. 7. I’m going to start putting my cell phone in the trunk so I can’t reach it. I swear, no amount of public service announcements can sway me from the siren song of a text, even while I’m behind the wheel. I will break this bad habit!
. 6. I want to get to bed before midnight at least a few times a week. Seriously, if morning me ever met night me, she’d punch her right in the face for being such a night owl.
. 5. I will learn to make a few Thai dishes on my own. When you call your favorite Thai place and they answer it, “Hey Kristin! Do you want the usual?” you are probably calling them too often.
. 4. I will do more fun things with my two boys. I spent most of 2013 bald, sick and laying “mostly dead” (Princess Bride reference, look it up kids) on the couch.  Jake and Kaden won’t even know what kind of fun bomb hit them this year. New year, new mom.
. 3. A lot of people put, “I want to do something every day that scares me” as their New Year’s resolution. BEEN THERE, DONE THAT. I fought cancer every day of 2013 AND launched a book (putting yourself out there and getting reviews on anything you do is freaking SCARY business!). And sure, the scary stuff makes you stronger. But I can only live on the edge of my seat so long. So, in 2014, I want less scary. Some scary- more book reviews, speaking engagements, book signings, being a mom on a daily basis, but less massive life-changing freak outs for months on end. And less shots. I HATE shots.
. 2.   I will learn how Twitter and social medial work. Right now, Twitter feed looks like a bunch of scratches the International Space Station found on a distant planet. I’ll make sense of it and use it to my advantage as I do my author thing.

#butiwillalwayshatehashtags
#ispendwaytoomuchtimetryingtoreadwordswithoutspacesinbetweenthem#theteacherinmecringeswhenthereisnopunctuation
. 1. I will be grateful for every single freaking day. Nothing puts life into perspective like almost losing it. 
So, those are my resolutions for an awesome 2014. This year is going to rock. What are your resolutions? I wanna hear them!

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” Or so say 220 different B-list singers who have remade this song (I looking at you Amy Grant, Jessica Simpson, three very annoying talking Chipmunks).  And I agree with them- about 95% of the time. But, the following list lays out the 5% of the holiday I just cannot stand. And, I write this, my husband is reading over my shoulder calling me the Grinch who killed Christmas. Thanks Babe…hope you don’t make this list next year…1.       The Clapper and Chia pet commercials- your parent companies have not sprung for new advertising since 1983. It may be time to put these Christmas classics to pasture. Sorry Cha-cha-cha Chia, I’m not fee-fee-feeling you anymore. Though, I will say, 7-year-old me will always want a clapper.
2.       Christmas stories- When I was about 8 or 9, my mom and dad thought it would be a good idea to tell me the story of the gift of the Magi. You know the one- the poor married man sells his watch to buy a hair comb for his wife. The poor wife sells her hair to buy a chain for the husband’s watch, etc. This started my very frosty relationship with Christmas stories (pun intended). They are 99% depressing. Someone is dying, someone doesn’t have any money, someone can’t buy presents…and someone who is listening to these stories is very, very upset by it all. Namely, me!   
3.       Christmas themed clothes- You know when you go on vacation to a different country and buy all the local fashion because you think it is just amazing and you get it home only to realize you look ridiculous in a Tongan sarong in the middle of Michigan? Christmas clothes feel a little like that to me. The Santa PJs, the cute Christmas-y sweatshirt- they always lure me in. Pre- December 25th, it is all fun and festive good times in my fun and festive clothes. But  it all looks rather foolish in the harsh light of December 26th. Stay strong Kristin! Don’t buy those snowman flannel pants! You’ll regret it!  
4.       Two words: Winter finale.  It’s the TV networks’ fancy way of saying, “even though you FINALLY are on vacation and have time to sit at home and watch all your favorite shows, they are not going to be on. They are on a break. Instead, please watch the Frosty the Snowman cartoon from 1963 for the fourteenth time this season.”   All I want for Christmas is my TV shows back.
5.       BUT quite possibly the worst atrocity ever foisted upon the holidays is…And I barely have the fortitude to write about it… The Christmas Shoes song. If you haven’t heard this musical travesty, count yourself one of the luckiest people in the world. Don’t google the lyrics. You’ll regret it. For some reason, the geniuses behind this song thought that nothing says Christmas spirit like a soon-to-be orphan child begging for shoes for his dying mom so she can wear them to meet Jesus. To the writers of this song- you have no soul.All joking aside, have a wonderful and happy holiday season. Enjoy your favorite 95% of this time of year and drop me a line to let me know what makes your 5% list!  

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