Bless the Beasts and the Children

My furry angels are still quite concerned with my care each day, following me from bed to couch and back throughout the day.  We are a little parade, and our route is from family room through the living room, up the stairs, down the hall and into my bedroom.  Every single day sisters Hallie and Cassie flank my bed, and Muffin takes her place at the foot.  For such a little thing, and the newest resident, Muffin is ballsy and bossy, and doesn't settle in until she makes sure the other girls have taken their place.

I am still only sleeping a few hours here and there each night, and usually need to nap mid-day.  Today Hallie was snoring, Cassie was woofing at something in her dream and making chase, and Muffin was sprawled out on her back like Miss November.  These girls comfort me during the day, when the house is empty of the boys that live here.

As the months have passed during my treatment, I have found that my children don't want to know a lot of the details anymore.  I have learned to keep what I do tell them very simple.  They occasionally read my blog, but stopped following it daily some time ago.

Everything they need and want to know they get from how I am each day.  When I used to tell them information I thought they might want to know, I saw their expressions change, as if bracing for bad news.  I just don't talk about it anymore.  We briefed them regarding the basics of my surgery, and will do the same before radiation.  They aren't interested in the blow by blow and I understand that.

They judge how things are progressing by how I am.  As long as I am shuffling around the house, making jokes about my little boobies, or checking on things like homework or Batman's job, my boys feel like everything is ok.  I'm happy about that, and as much as I can, try to keep things as close to our old normal as possible.

Nothing remotely feels like our old normal to me.  I understand though their need for things to resemble our old normal.  I do my best to give it.

I think when talking to your children about cancer and your treatment, you need to keep things as simple and brief as possible.  All mine really want to know at this point is "Are you ok Mom?" or "Is everything going to be ok Mom?"  We've all been doing this as a family since last April.  That seems years ago to me.

Although here in my blog, CANCER is the big focus, it's not in our day to day.  I know it's in the back of my boys minds.  They are reminded of it every time they look at me, in my short little hair, moving awful slow, and obviously flat chested.  Some days since my surgery, I haven't felt well enough to put makeup on or get out of my pj's, but I always make a point of being downstairs when the kids are.

There is enough unspoken reality between us.  We don't need to talk about it.  We try and do all of our old usual, like dinner together, watching TV or a movie, or the kids on computers in the living room, their Dad and I in the family room, dogs scattered among us.  We have Grandma, Husband's Mom, over on Monday nights for dinner and Dancing with the Stars.

Many of the nights, Batman's girlfriend, Baby Bear, is here with us.

The mood is relaxed and comfortable; I'm content when we are all here together.

I don't feel like I'm hiding anything from my kids.  I think we all feel a lot happier when our routine of being a family goes on as it used to.  Obviously there are times when dealing with my cancer interrupts that, but as soon as we can, we slip right back into our usual.

Every night before bed, Robin still comes in to my room to say good night.  He usually plops down on the bed and often asks "What's the blog about tonight?"

He got a kick out of his mention last night, naming Itsy and Bitsy.

I think my kids have been amazing through this whole thing, just rolling with the punches and taking their cue from their Dad, and primarily from me.

Kids thrive in a set routine.  Kids thrive when they know what to expect.  I think it makes them feel safe, even in the midst of great uncertainty.

So much has changed for this family, and thankfully, much is as it always was.

It brings great peace and comfort to me, seeing my kids doing well in spite of some really scary stuff thrown their way.

They love me bad, these boys and doggies.

I'm the Mama of this house.

Bless This Mess.

Amen.