The Big C

The Big C
Came knocking at my door,
And it did not rap gently.

I saw it walking up the street
And I knew it was coming to my house,
But I pretended it was going to keep
Meandering and choose some other cottage
To disrupt.

I pretended because I did not have time for it,
Because I did not want pitying glances,
Because I did not want my loved ones to be upset
Over me and my visitor,
Because I did not want to die.

It came without meandering at all,
In a very straight determined line, with a
Very firm clipping step,
And it knocked at my door
With no gentleness and with
Incessant persistance.

I ignored it until the holiday
was over.

That was easy to do with all the laughter
In my house, with all the rustling
of brightly colored papers,
With all the scents of promising
dishes, and all the love
Lingering.

They left my house still laughing,
Clutching contents of pretty boxes,
and followed by all the warmth
Of love breezes still clinging.

They didn't even notice
My ugly visitor
Waiting on the porch.

I let them go.

I opened the door again.

I told Big C,
"You can't come in.

You aren't welcome here.

But I can see, you are going to stay a while.

So sit there on my porch,
While I go back inside

And figure out how much of me
I will let you take."

10 Things I Learned from My Kids

10. If you hear a puppy crying in the breezeway all night, and you don't own a puppy, you do now.

9. If the ceiling suddenly starts springing water, and plaster lands at your feet, your son has left the water running in the upstairs sink (again).

8. If you spot your son's teacher at the grocery and she looks at you blankly when you gush about the award she just gave him...he forged it.

7. If you call your own phone number only to get a recording of a youthful voice explaining that when his parents "get out" "from serving 8-10" he will have them return the call...count to 10010 before going home.

6. If your daughter swears up and down the kitty you finally allowed her to adopt from her little friend at school is a BOY kitten....check it out before the mother of the little friend you don't know drives off.

5. If you THOUGHT you were seeing things....there MIGHT be a mouse in the house...but there could not possibly be multiple WHITE mice.... you probably are not seeing things. Check with your eldest son. (Remember that community play he was in at Halloween? Remember what they used as props, caged of course? Well...after the play...they had to go somewhere....)

4. Never ever tell that same son to load the dishwasher without explaining the differences in detergents...not unless you want to wade through three feet of bubbles in your kitchen floor.

3. Remember that same son? Remember that weird sound you heard overhead? Yeah, he was riding his bicycle off the second story roof. His siblings will tell you about it in about ten years.

2. If your fifty foot pine tree is swaying in the wind...but there is no wind...check and see where four of your children are.

1. Do not lose your mind. Sons (and daughters) more often than not have a way of growing up, becoming (hopefully) responsible citizens, and apologizing for all the gray hairs they gave you (of course they are laughing as they do so!!! But this time, so are you!!!).

Rebel With a Pause

The last few years I have been soooo proud of myself. I finally felt like I "had it all together", was "aging gracefully", had "wisdom to go with my years". My daughters tell me I have "mellowed". My son says "don't take this wrong, Mom, but you are a whole lot nicer since you had cancer." Ummm. I liked to think I had learned what was important and what was not, learned to slow down and appreciate, learned not to get excited or upset. I was pretty proud of myself.

Well...that was before...you know...

The last time I experienced anything like this I was about eight months pregnant. That would be nearly thirty years ago. So don't get the idea I was preggos...fat chance of that...no pun intended.

Two days ago a half dozen little fists were pounding at the back of my eyeballs and tears were streaming down my face. A lump the size of a grapefruit was blocking my throat and the screams were bottled up behind it but fast escaping around the edges. In short I was on a crying jag and having a Monster Meltdown.

In the last few days...oh, may as well tell the truth...in the last few SECONDS:

*I have been mad at answering machines in general and government facilities using automated non-voices in specific. No. Scratch that. I have been LIVID.

*I have totally forgotten why I was trying to call in the first place. Who?

*I have giggled ecstatically over finding a CHOCOLATE bar.

*I have had a good cry over the fact that I cannot rip the paper off the chocolate bar like a normal person with my teeth. I don't have any on the bottom and no way of obtaining any (I had oral cancer, a prosthesis won't work, nor will a "denture plate")....my mother always said my mouth would be my downfall. At any rate I couldn't rip the chocolate bar open with my teeth and I could not find a knife. It was definitely a reason to boo hoo. So I did.

In short, pick a channel. ANY channel, and if I am the show you can see horror, sitcom, comedy and the food channel all in the space of a few seconds. I am a regular Dish Network.