Cleo's Daddy

We've had a good last few days. Really good. His energy level is up and his pain is down, and it's like having him back to his old self. It's so nice. This morning I mentioned to the three year old that he was feeling better and her face lit up. "He is feeling better right now!" Later, she asked him to go sledding with her. There is no snow. Maybe one day. Even better news was that when he went to the doctor this week for a concerning pain, we learned that the pain is actually from the cancer dying, and it seems to be dying ahead of schedule. This is fabulous news, and seems to make everything worth it. We just need to keep our eye on the prize of health at the end of all of this. I don't have as much to say about good days because I'm usually so caught up in the good moments that I'm not ruminating on them, or writing blog posts in my head while trying to keep my head above water. I'm trying to soak in the good moments while I can, and enjoy

Today, my six year old asked why I don't play with her anymore. Obviously, she doesn't care about the cereal boxes on the counter. She wants me. I haven't taken a shower without her sitting on the floor of the bathroom since this all began. She also told me that she hates how angry she gets right now. "I didn't use to get angry so fast," she said, "but now I do. It's hard. I just want someone to play with me." We used to do some serious play and projects together. Art projects are our thing. Yesterday, during the first snow fall of the year, I didn't even go out to play with her in the snow. I sent her out by herself. This can't keep going. Something has to give. But what? I can't leave an unclean house, mostly because I need to keep it disinfected for my husband. Drop work?  I spent the last year and a half building up my own consulting business. It's been hard, and I've loved it. I've never felt so scared and

There were three cereal boxes on the counter. And a bag of bagels. On the counter. Like, not put away in the pantry. They wouldn't fit. So we stacked them in front of the kitchen aid. WE STACKED THEM IN FRONT OF THE KITCHEN AID LIKE WE WERE SOME KIND OF LAZY BUMS WHO DON'T ORGANIZE THEIR HOUSE. I lost it. Literally, lost  my shit. Those damn cereal boxes needed to be in the pantry. Like we were civilized people who don't store their food on the counter. Those boxes were coming to get me. They were smoothering me. Taking over my kitchen, taking up space, spreading out, until we no longer realized they were there and we lived every day accepting the mess because we now had no time to clean it up. Those boxes were a cancer on our lives and I needed them GONE. This isn't the type of thing that normally bothers me. I mean, I try to aim for a de-cluttered house, but I can usually deal with it. Last year, in the first year of starting my own business, I'

It seems silly to write a blog about my own struggles with my husband's cancer diagnosis, because 1) I don't have cancer, he does. 2) It's a "great" diagnosis. It's the kind of cancer everyone recovers from. So really, we don't have much to be sad about. We are celebrating the great diagnosis. It's just a tough six months in front of us, that's all. But there is a light at the end, and we'll be OK.  3)  There are so many worse things that could happen. I feel like I don't deserve to feel stressed or saddened by this. A Facebook friend of mine lost her husband this spring. He died. My husband is still here, and there is a promise of a full life on the other side of this. So it's hard to acknowledge my saddness in all this. People go through much, much worse things in life. 4) People are so wonderful to us right now. We are so, so blessed by so many wonderful friends, and I am so thankful for all their support and kindness because

Today was one of the hardest ones yet, mostly because it was a beautiful, event-filled day, and my husband couldn't be a part of it. We woke up to the start of the first snow of the season, which is always magic, especially if you have young children. Santa came to the preschool, then the three year old went to be a party where she met Elsa - and the six year old went to a friend's house and ate lunch out. There was a snowball fight, Christmas tree decorating, more snow play, and, at the very end of the night, we heard a fire engine wailing as it slowly crawled down our street in the snow. Running to the door, we saw Santa standing proudly on top, snow swirling around his head as he waved reverently to my awestruck girls. It was a pretty much magical December Saturday. Except that my husband had chemo on Thursday and was feeling it today, on top of a low-grade fever, which has me ridiculously nervous. There were moments of today that I was proud of myself for - when I l

The ER was loud. Beeping on top of beeping in a non-rhythmic, unending rhyme that never stopped. Still, it felt weird to be there for pneumonia. We couldn't figure out why they were making such a big deal. His x-ray at urgent care hadn't looked fabulous, but ER worthy? They took him for a cat scan while I ran around the hospital looking for a vending machine. I found some awful generic Cheetos mix thing that seemed to be the only thing that was reasonably priced and got us each a bag. We'd eat more when we got home. When we met back in our ER room, we quickly Facetimed the girls while we waited for the results. We chatted happily, and assured them we'd be home soon. Another moment I will never forget is the look on our three year old's face when she saw her daddy in the hospital gown. She cried, and asked why he was wearing that. It seemed small at the time, but later, after the doctor had talked to us, my husband said, "She knew." She's always