Holy Mackerel

There was much rejoicing, and presents, and boy-crazy shenanigans... ...while his mother sat, enthralled by all around her, as the multitude of tissues continued to soak up all the excess mucus from her left nasal passage. Life of the party. And a good time was had by all. Good night.

Our little baby is turning 11 tomorrow. I can hardly believe it. It was just yesterday that he was a wee baby... It was not that long ago that we found out our little baby had cancer, and that our lives would never be the same. It was hard to imagine at that time that he would be going to kindergarten...And now our baby is going to be 11 years old. Amazing. Happy Birthday, Chicken Lips.

So, today's the day. "Dennis" is scheduled for his annual cancer check-up. We go this afternoon. I feel okay about it, really. Better than I did last week when I thought about it, after little Tuesday's passing. I still have some butterflies in my stomach, and I know I always will, everytime this time of year comes around. I won't show Dennis my fear, the tornado roiling around inside of me, as we enter what used to be our second home and is now just a place we come to every month or two, but would much rather not. Instead, I'll hold Dennis' hand as he gets his blood drawn, and as the doctor pokes and prods his belly and his glands and asks him lots of personal questions that a 10-year-old boy really would rather not answer. And I will try not to stare when I see little children on various beds, with their baby bird bald heads and big, scared eyes, and their parents sitting there, the look of abject fear on their faces. I will try to forget that that was ...

A rather uneventful weekend here, which is so very unusual, given that we are who we are. What I mean is, something is always happening around here, whether it be a car accident, someone getting a finger caught in the basement door, or having to throw the children into the dungeon for bad behaviour yet again. The reason for such uneventfulness this past weekend: the kids were sick. Our daughter, "Milly", came down with a nasty cold last week that seemed to eat the inside of her throat and nasal passages, creating raw patches that made her cry. So she's been home for most of the week lying on the couch with Kleenex stuffed up her nostrils and the remote in her hand, a creamsicle in the other. Pretty awful virus, I must say. Knocked her out for days, which is a bigger deal now that she's in Grade 8. Missing a couple of days is much harder to make up for than it was when she was in Grade 4. I felt for her as she lay there, comatose on the couch, which is so unlike her. ...

This is what Dennis does when he goes to bed after a hard day's work: No wonder the poor guy's so tuckered out and cranky in the mornings! He's going to kill me when he sees this photo...