The other night, at 3am, my wide-awake daughter kept telling me “I married at you! I married at you!”
It took some time and me having to wake up a little more to discover that “married” now means “sad”.
I know, right?
I try not to focus too hard on the fact that somehow she thinks the word married means “sad”. How that probably means we are complete disasters as examples to her, even though we thought we had a happy house.
Instead I am going to go with “funny and random” and then move on with my apparently traumatizing marriage.
I am sure some therapist someday will make some sense of it for her, but by then I’ll have blue streaks in my gray hair and she will have to love me because I will babysit her kids for free.
Her being “sad” is her new shtick though. I hear it at least 4 times a day. “Mama, I just so sad!” It is usually a cry for attention. Occasionally she genuinely being sad but only usually because someone told her no.
It’s the way she pouts. She lowers her head, sinks her shoulders, makes this great sad face that will just break your heart, and states “Mama, I sad.” She literally makes a sad face with a her mouth turned down like a 😦 .
It’s pretty hilarious all the dramatics behind it. So all that is to say:
I am married!
Both literally (see husband), and emotionally.
The literal marriage is going great (or so I thought before my daughter decided marriage was sad).
The emotional married (aka being sad) is not as fun.
Our appointment with the specialist didn’t go the way we wanted today. Instead of celebrating my son being 7-months and cancer free, there is a new tumor in his right eye. The old tumor is still there but looks dormant. The specialist did a little laser surgery on the new tumor, and feels there is a 75% chance that it will take care of it.
We come back in a month to find out. Then we find out what’s next.
It’s not all bad. The old tumor is dormant and possibly dead or at least not growing (yay!). The new tumor may be taken care of asap (yay!). And my son, gets a month off of chemo, shots, blood draws, and surgery (yay!). He hasn’t had that since he was diagnosed at 5-weeks old, and hopefully the rest will give him time to heal (did I mention yay!).
Blessings aside, I don’t want to do this cancer thing anymore. I don’t want to see my son’s health deteriorate any longer. I don’t want to see him being pale with sunken eyes on a bad day. I don’t want to poke him with a needle to give shots or draw blood. I don’t want to fight another tumor. I don’t want to be anxious any longer.
I AM DONE.
That would be nice. Just to call it. Say, “Cancer, it’s been nice, I gave it my all, but I’m done, you need to leave now.”
If you haven’t noticed I am pouting this evening.
I know everything will be okay. I know we are insanely blessed. I know God is good and my baby is amazing.
But I want to pout. I didn’t get my way. So I pout.
Boo hoo. Poor me. Poor baby. Poor hubby. Waaaaa!
Like my daughter I am making a sad face. I really don’t want attention for it though, (although I do agree that hugs from my hubby do make things better).
I just need to vent. I need to get it out there. Cancer is dumb. I want to be done with this fight. I want my son to be safe.
Enough pity. Time to eat a bag of chocolate, and maybe sleep a little tonight.
Next week is CHRISTMAS and my brother is home from college, so I got lots to be excited about this week.
Just having a “married” day.