Unpacking Summer & “Mum School”

I did a thing this summer.

By noting the date of my last post, you also realize the gap.

Like I said, I did something.

Tomorrow marks ten years of raising my babes. What a blessing that I continue to raise my babes, and that they still adore and fight me raising them. Thanks God! This is truly gold that comes from you.

School is in full swing. And when I say full. Like for real full. Full of hot lunch, cold lunch, new gear, new teachers, new worries, new bus routes, new wake up times, new routines, and already the dreaded kid home from school sick multiple days. Like our bellies bursting after grandma’s Thanksgiving dinner. Bursting so much, one child gagged all of the contents of said child’s stomach in the middle of the school hallway just on the second day. And to hope, the year can only get better from here, right?

Enter my baby child flying the coop. On one of our last weekday adventures with the big kids in school, we went to said child’s favorite spot: the lake by the bagel shop. With our bagels in tote, we trekked through geese poop to get that prime seat, right next to the boat launch. Quickly by babe was in his glory: in full wardrobe chasing ducks through the murky, shallow water. To my dismay, my bagel became a donation to our new, stalking friends.

I didn’t want this moment to be over, and so with all my power and control over the moment, I told the kid that’s no longer a babe, “Let’s take a selfie.” So, the kid threw his arms around my neck and said, “Look mom. I’m like an angel on your back.”

Enter the full waterworks.

This is the kid that was exposed to the implications of cancer almost his entire existence.

After two days of a NICU stay for him, I held him in my hospital room looking out the window anticipating my husband’s arrival during the snowstorm. The building across the street caught my attention. The same view as my stem cell transplant. It was the place that cared for those battling cancer. I remember clinging to my newborn son praising God for his deliverance from suffering and good health. A view only worthy of praying for the afflicted. The future place of my care team, brains team, and the chemotherapy nurse that held me tightly.

If the postpartum season wasn’t enough, this guy would top the charts in weight and it seemed like lifting him broke my back. Cancer cells were hiding in my back. Before the babe was crawling I was laid up. I was canceling plans to help move a friend, and seeking alternative medicine to popping Advil to manage the pain, so I could simply not feel a thing and sleep through the night.

Fast forward, my unknown condition progressed, to flu-like symptoms day in and day out attached to the pain, unable to keep up with my busy toddler. He found himself with some really great women, but none of which were his mom. My bedroom door shut and locked reminded him, mom was off limits.

Enter cancer treatment for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and he truly became my angel.

He was the hug before I left the calm, peace filled walls of my home that would later that day become stained with the after effects of chemotherapy. He was worth every struggling ask to the friend that I needed multiple times a week to watch him, so I could go to another appointment. He was the snuggle that was always available.

God gave him to me because I would need an angel for what would shortly come after his birth.

And to hope, my cancer journey will bring him more good than sorrow.

Remission and survivorship welcomed new realities and challenges for my son and I. I was still on the mend, and he would be off to preschool part-time. What a relief. Yet, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t potty trained. Through all the shuffle of my health, he didn’t advance into this territory. No one told me this would be a side effect of cancer. We had a “healthy” year together at home. I welcomed “Mum School” as Bluey puts it.

I knew moments with my kids would be fleeting once they were all in school for majority of the day. Well and you know because scans happen, life happens, storms happen, valleys happen.

For the first time in ten years, I approached our summer days with their agenda and not mine. I set aside cleaning just to clean, watching TV just to binge, blogging, and saving money. I was failing “Mum School” balancing all the plates at the same time. And boy was it delightful, even if it drove my hubby crazy.

This week my little “Greenie” flew the coop. He’s living his best days: outdoor school.

Here’s to failing “Mum School” and asking for forgiveness.

Here’s to finding gold together!

And to hope, the year can only get better from here, right?

P.S. If you need another heart warming smile, watch the Bluey episode “Mum School.”