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  • Liz Murtaugh Gillespie

As I headed out the door for a Mother's Day run, I breathed a deep and grateful sigh listening to the first few lines of a StoryCorps Tough Mothers podcast.

"Being a mom can be hard. It takes patience, resilience, and a fair amount of grit."

I'm not a church-goer, but at that moment, the pavement became my pew, my heart sang, and I quietly shouted, "Hallelujah!"

I was running later in the day than I'd planned and in a sour mood that I can chuckle about now, because sometimes that's all you can do as a mom: laugh at the curve balls your sweet kids or loving spouse throw you, on Mother's Day or any day.

Here's how it all started:

I had hoped to go on a nice long run while Sean took Tyler to his Sunday morning 3-on-3 hockey game. But as I was starting to stir, I heard a familiar sound from the kitchen: the clankety-clank of Sylvia making pancakes.

Awwww ... how sweet. My girl knows how much her mama loves breakfast in bed.

I knew it would take her a while. That's how she rolls in the kitchen. So I settled back into bed and waited. I tried not to let my mind wander to the mess I didn't want to have to ask her to clean up. I knew Sean and Tyler wanted to go out to brunch as a family.

No problem.

I'll just have a little bit of Sylvia's breakfast, try to squeeze in a quick run, then go out to brunch with the whole family ... all in time to get Sylvia to her 2 o'clock soccer game and Tyler to his 4 o'clock game ... before meeting up with some mama friends to catch a Mother's Day improv comedy show.

No problem. Really. It'll all be great.

So my darling daughter delivers me breakfast in bed. Blueberry pancakes with a side of fresh strawberries, blueberries and honey-drizzled yogurt. So yummy. So thoughtful.

Mother's Day Day breakfast in bed!

She dashes off to get her own plate, and when we finish up, I say as nicely as I possibly can, "You know what would be make me even happier than this awesome breakfast?"

"What?!" she asks, eyes bugged out with wonder.

"If you cleaned up the kitchen without a fuss!"

And right on cue: instant frownie face.

"I thought this was going to be a good Mother's Day. But now you're getting me in a bad mood!"

I'll spare you the details of all the drama that ensued. Let's just say I needed that run, and StoryCorps' podcast sang welcome music to my flustered ears.

"In this Mother’s Day episode, we’re paying tribute to some tough mothers — and we’ll hear what it’s like if you happen to be their kid.

We have stories about a hard-working mom determined to keep her family together, despite the physical toll it took on her; another mom who, looking back, admits she was a little too strict with her daughter; a mom whose advice wasn’t always welcome, but who ended up becoming an invaluable friend; and a daughter who had to step into a mom’s role when her own mother couldn’t.

Despite it all, no matter how challenging their relationships became, these mothers and their children never gave up on each other."

My easy three-mile run was a highlight of Mother’s Day 2017.

Others:

  • Enjoying a whatever-you-want-to-eat lunch with Sylvia and Tyler at our neighborhood grocery store deli after trying in vain — twice — to get a table at an overflowing brunch venue. Felt great to say, “Look, it feels like you’re trying to take me out to Mother’s Day brunch because that’s what people do on Mother’s Day. I don’t need a fancy Mother’s Day brunch!”

  • Venting with a fellow soccer mom about how crappy we’ve felt most Mother’s Days, because there always seems to be a disconnect between our expectations and the things our awesome husbands and kids do or don’t do for us.

  • Making an impromptu stop at a garden store with Sylvia, where we picked out plants and bird seed for our garden.

  • Planting sweet peppers, tomatoes and butter lettuce in a warm drizzle. By myself while Sylvia snuggled with our pug Pepper inside.

  • Laughing cathartically at Unexpected Productions’ Mother’s Day Improv Show and conversations before and after with the mama friends who joined me.

Now for the lowlights — because we need to share these, too, even more than the highlights:

  • Trying to ward off a tinge of guilt that I'd slept in as my under-the-weather husband woke up at 6:30 a.m. to drive Tyler to hockey.

  • Listening to Sylvia wail about not being able to clean up in the kitchen because a giant housefly was freaking her out. Harsh words with Dad, her bedroom door going "Slam!" then Sean cleaning up after her, because I'd told him I wanted the mess gone

  • Realizing “Buck up, babe,” was a pretty insensitive thing to say to a husband who wishes he hadn’t hit a stress wall on Mother’s Day — while fending off a cold and nursing a knee injury.

  • Cringing at news that a mama friend had to bow out of our comedy night because of a vomiting kiddo with a vicious fever.

Highlights, lowlights and all, motherhood is a challenge that doesn’t always feel that rewarding. At times it’s an exhausting, thankless stream of obligations, ones we handle like a janitor keeps a building clean.

Sure, you appreciate that your workplace doesn’t smell like gym socks and sour milk. But when’s the last time you looked your janitor in the eyes and said, “Thank you for all you do. Your job is hard, and all of us here appreciate you.”

At the end of the day — Mother’s Day or any day — we moms need to care for ourselves as intentionally as we care for others. We need to go out on a run, take a yoga class, join a book club, train for a triathlon … whatever gives us the me time we deserve but don't always make room for in our busy lives.

What about you? What's your take on Mother's Day? Share some highlights, lowlights, anything in between. Let's get get real about the imperfectly loving mothers we are and be OK with not always living up to the moms and women we want to be.

  • Liz Murtaugh Gillespie


I'm not quite sure what's more awesome: that I've made it one full year past the end of my slog through cancer treatment. Or that this milestone almost slipped me by.

A year ago, cancer loomed so large in my life, I could scarcely imagine what it would be like to last a day, or even an hour, without thinking about it ... for it not to be the first thing on my mind in the morning and the last thing at night.

I don't check Facebook very often these days (helps keep my stress levels about batshit crazy politics in check), but I gave it a peek after my 6 a.m. yoga class and there it was: a reminder of my last radiation treatment.

Well, how about that?

A few hours later, a text from Sean flashed on my phone about KEXP's daylong Music Heals tribute to cancer fighters in the radio station's community. From all over the world, listeners shared stories of survival and loss, always with deep gratitude for the power music holds to soothe the soul, especially during dark times when all seems lost.

Driving to a work meeting, my eyes welled up at the story of a young woman's aunt, who never moaned or groaned during her five grueling years of treatment. She enjoyed her days as best she could. She lived her life, even as she knew her days were numbered. She loved Michael Franti, so at her niece's request, the DJs played "Say Hey (I Love You)."

When I got home, I shared my own story in an email to DJs John Richards and Cheryl Waters, herself a breast cancer survivor:

Dear John, Cheryl & KEXP friends,

I woke up early this morning, heading straight to a 6am strength-building yoga class and not realizing it was my one-year finishing-cancer-treatment-aversary until Facebook reminded me.

What?! Seriously? What a difference a year can make.

I thought life as I knew it was over when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in June 2015. I was 41. My kids were 5 and 7. How on earth was I going to beat cancer while working (taking a year off wasn’t an option), being a good (or bad) mom to my delightful but exhausting children? I was terrified.

Then somehow, day by day, I tackled one challenge after another. Some days felt close to normal. Other days, I cried so hard, I thought I might bust an eyeball.

Three songs that soothed my soul at just the right moments, right when I needed one helluva pick-me-up, were:

1. Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars … which my daughter played for me right after she, my son and husband helped me shave my head. “Listen to this part, Mommy!,” she said.

"When I see your face

There's not a thing that I would change

'Cause you're amazing

Just the way you are

And when you smile

The whole world stops and stares for a while

'Cause girl, you're amazing

Just the way you are."

2. Roar by Katy Perry … which I chose as my cancer anthem early on, and played on the radio at cosmically appropriate times more times than I can count.

3. Fight Song … which I’m sure has been claimed by so many cancer survivors that you’ve either already played it three times over or you’re saving for some other day, because OMG … so obvious. But get this: What better cool-down song could have played during my final Zumba workout before getting my mastectomy? Seriously cosmic.

Thanks for doing this. I’ve loved hearing all the music that’s healed so many people through battles won and lives lost. Music is such a powerful force, and KEXP is such a gift to our community. I’m immensely grateful for both.

Liz Murtaugh Gillespie

Proud cancer ass-kicker from Seattle

Sean, the kids and I decided to treat ourselves to an impromptu celebration by going to the Music Heals dance party at KEXP's studios. At dinner before the party, I realized my music requests were way too pop 40 for KEXP, so I sent a re-do request:

P.S. OK, the songs below skew WAY more top 40 than most of the music I love listening to. So as not to make your listeners the world over cringe at my not-very-hip suggestions, here's a more KEXP-suitable song request: Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap.

This song made me cry tears of joy and relief as I ran the longest run of my life, not quite six months after I finished my slog through cancer treatment. It played on my iPod seven miles into an eight mile run, right after Rachel Platten's Fight Song and Katy Perry's Roar, which had been my go-to cancer-fighting anthems. I'm not sure what it was, but hearing Sweet Disposition at that moment -- one of my favorite songs long before cancer -- seemed like the cancer cosmos telling me, "You've done it, Liz! You have KICKED CANCER'S ASS!!!"

It was the run that convinced me I could run my first half marathon, which I did joyfully a couple months later.

And to think that just a year ago today, I got my last zaps of radiation on my ex-breast. I am healthier and stronger today than ever before. Immensely grateful for every day, every moment, every song I hear.

Thank you, KEXP!

OMG, we had so much fun.

We busted some serious moves on the dance floor. Boogying my booty off, I knocked a rockin'-out toddler flat on his. My kids laughed at me, but he barely skipped a beat, and a few minutes later, we were jumping up and down to the strains of House of Pain's Jump Around.

We heard an 11-year-old girl with a rare brain cancer, who's nearing the end of her treatment, talk about what a healing influence music has been on her throughout her treatment — about the playlist her family mixed and listened to on the droves to and from her daily radiation treatments at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance's Proton Therapy Center. Standing there on the stage — with a hip-as-can-be outfit, a wig of long blond hair and an oxygen tube you could barely notice giving her some extra air through her nose, connected to a backpack carrying the tank — she exuded nothing but strength, grace and gratitude.

As I was wiping away my tears, a young cancer survivor friend of mine tapped me on the shoulder. I hadn't seen Isabella since summertime, and wow — for her to show up at that very moment, with her sweet brother and sister, Miles and Clara, whom my kids love, and her dad, Daron, a dear friend of our family ... wow.

"Bella!" I cried, as I smiled ear to ear through some more tears. "I'm so happy to see you!!!!"

Cancer has struck Daron's family twice. Isabella is a leukemia survivor. Her mom, Laurie, fought a vicious sarcoma for years, soldiered on with fierce grace even after she had a leg amputated and sought experimental treatments when the cancer spread to her lungs. She spent the last year of her life knowing every passing day was one closer to good-bye.

So yeah, I wasn't quite done crying when I hugged Daron.

A few minutes later, as Isabella looked around for Sylvia, our two families got a tour of the station — SUCH a fun tour — from Owen Murphy, producer of the John in the Morning show.


We guessed how many CDs are in KEXP's music library (about 42,000). He showed us Nirvana's Nevermind album cover, which the station's staff covered with sticker notes that screamed things like "YES, YES, YES!!!" back before the band got big.



Tyler strummed a chord or two from Yellow Submarine, which he's learning to play on the guitar. Sylvia played the opening strains of Death Cab for Cutie's Passenger's Seat on the piano in the performance studio.

A theme that threaded through much of the music played throughout the day was the joy of being present, seizing the day, finding joy in life even during times of struggle.

Yes.

Grit and gratitude have gotten me through a lot this past year. And I hope they'll do the same for you, whatever your challenge is — today, tomorrow or any day.

  • Liz Murtaugh Gillespie

"Where do I even start?"

Scrawled in thick black marker on white poster board, those words really caught my eye amid thousands of signs protesters carried through the Women's March in Seattle.

"Too many issues. Not enough sign."

They expected 50,000 of us to turn out.

Try 130,000.

"This march is just a warm-up."

The crowd at Judkins Park, where the march started, was so much bigger than expected, it took almost two hours for five tributaries of people to make their way through the side streets flowing to the main march route.

None of us expected to be standing shoulder to shoulder for so long. We rolled with it, eagerly anticipating that moment when the standstill demonstration would start moving.

From time to time, a chant would roll through the crowd.

My favorite: "This is what democracy looks like."

Sylvia wore her Wonder Woman hat, and I wore one with rainbow stripes. We didn't make any of our own signs. I was so caught up in my "Where do I start?" frame of mind, I didn't quite realize how fitting a protest slogan that would be for this day.

For much of the day, Sylvia and I took turns carrying a sign that read "Girl Power" on one side and "Stand Up. Resist Hate" on the other.

Girl power is right, Sylvia and Savannah.

Word nerd that I am, I took photos of signs that spoke to me and jotted down others that were too far away or passed me by so quickly that I couldn't quite get a shot.

Here's a gallery of photos ...

Some other shareworthy sentiments:

"Hate doesn't make America great."

"The power of the people is stronger than the people in power."

"I promise to vote in the midterms."

"No one is free when others are oppressed."

"Pride over prejudice."

"Left or right, we all see wrong."

The next four years and beyond will require us to step up in ways we never imagined we'd have to.

"I can't believe I have to protest this shit."

It might feel like an injustice, and it is. As we all summon the grit it will take to get through these next four years and beyond, let's remember these words of Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

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