

From a few weeks ago.
Roman was enjoying a quick visit to Danny's (Granny's) house and decided that he wanted to kiss Mom's wiener dog, Punsie.
The bow tie. The stripes. The parted hair that happened to lay flat (it normally looks like Einstein). The gigantic drumstick/baseball bat. My boy! It's so crazy that I a) created a person INSIDE my body. I still can't get over it. It's straight up science fiction! And b) the little person that my womb knit is just so incredibly handsome. I can't wait (yes I can!) to see what he'll look like as a kid, as a teenager and as a man. What an amazing gift it will be to watch him grow... I hope I'm lucky enough.
It's so weird that it always comes back to this place for me. The whole cancer thing has forever changed how I look at my life and those around me. In someways it's made me a bit bitter and has definitely shortened my patience for things and people that piss me off. Why waste time, you know? I, more often than not, know what I want, where I want to be and what I want to do. It might come off as bitchy or controlling, but it's really just something that cancer has instilled in me. I don't have time to dilly-dally and sit in my sadness. If something is wrong or off with me, I fix it or at least try to work on it. I get over things quickly. I forgive easily. I give second chances, but third chances are hard to come by.
I try and put the past and the hurt and my bad experiences away. The I.V. needles and port-a-caths and mean nurses and nice nurses. The time I was written up as a racist by a bitchy nurse because I was dying and fragrances were super intense for me and she walked in with her stinky perfume on and I promptly told her she to leave me room because her smell was going to make me puke. Yup, she took that as me not liking her because she was black, which is RIDICULOUS because I love everyone. So, yeah, me in the hospital bed days away from death, with a giant tumor obstructing any and everything from passing into my intestines, needing a nurse but none of them wanting to take me as their charge because it was put into my file that I don't like people with darker skin than mine. My isolated room, lights off, curtains drawn because the light made me nauseous. My sister crying in the corner, her only sister was wasting away, vomiting nothing all day, gaunt, grey faced, death. My whole family upset because off my condition, my Daddy's heartbroken and now I'm deemed a damn racist. Ugh. It was all bullshit. Intense bullshit. I have to lock the memories and experiences up and keep them out of my everyday mind because it's frightening and scary and traumatic for me.
Even with blatant reminders of my past (fake leg, anyone?), I try my very hardest to focus on the good, on what I've been given. If my days are shortly numbered, and I have absolutely no way of knowing if they are or aren't, I want to spend them happily. Target trips with my son and sharing a bag of popcorn from the cafe. Morning dishes, afternoon naps, sidewalk chalk, family dinners with my two boys. The hum of the laundry room, the smell of my tea tree face wash. Bulgarian lavender essential oil before bedtime -- deep breaths of pure, strong plant oil. Coconut ice cream. Roman lighting up everyone's life.
Speaking of him lighting things up, he really is this gigantic, magical, creature straight from heaven. Some days I even peek around his messy mop of hair in hopes of finding a swirly unicorn horn. Sure, he has a bit of spice in his pantry, but this boy, my boy... I swear, the reason that I made it through everything I have so far is him. He is destined for huge, amazing things -- I can feel it in my bones.
But for now, I'm glad he's satisfied with drumsticks, bow ties and smooching puppies.
Dear Squid-Kid,
I love everydrop of your being.
Always.
Love,
Momma