Same Shit, Different Day

First ever family photo ....

So much has happened since I last posted. It was chemo day on Friday .... I've never taken Mr TC to chemo. I wasn't allowed, because I had a newborn. My outfuckingstanding sisters take it in turns to come up here, stay a few nights. They leave their hubbies to take care of their kids, and come up here to take my hubby to his chemotherapy down at the big hospital. They have both told me how awful it is, and impacting, and they have both agreed that I should be spared from seeing him all hooked up, getting shit pumped through his veins by a masked and gloved nurse. My sisters are carrying the burden of my husbands chemo. How do you repay someone, for doing that? I super puffy heart them with all of my spirit, 4 eva.

So, I have my Mr Beige here. For a week following his treatment, he looks beige, is shitty because he's sick, and can't wait for this crap to be over.

After chemo on Friday, Mr Beige TC went to the bank. He told some of his apprentices to stack a shitload of wood under our house, so they had been clanging under there all day. My sister Tee was up, it was her chemo turn. She was on the phone to our sister Rex, I was outside and suddenly heard a massive jumble of wood tumbling and falling, then a strange muffled yelp. "Oh, poor Claude!" I thought it was the guys dog. Then I hear "GET IT OFF MY HEAD. GET IT OFF MY HEAD. AHHHH AGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH." Followed by a mad scrambling of planks getting thrown about. I ran in to Tee, she was like a freaking superhero while I faded like the big softcock I am. I was holding Monkey, I just kept saying "Something really bad has happened!!" Tee pushes me out of the way and tells me to wait outside.

For the next four minutes, all I heard was planks being thrown by the two other apprentices and Tee, and this poor, poor 17 year old moaning and yelling. It was horrific. He was covered by a mountain of wood. All you could see were his two feet, poking out. The sound of the panic seeped up through my floorboards, I was wringing my hands saying "Please be ok! Please be ok!"

They got him out, I drove him straight to hospital, but he was ok. He was crying and had wet his pants, struggling to breathe properly. I can't believe he's alive. IT WAS TERRIBLE. For the rest of the day, I just kept saying to Tee in awe, "How the fuck do you do things like that! You are a superhero!" We were laughing, she kept saying "I saved a life today!" (She yelled at the guys to stop throwing their planks onto the poor boys torso, they were in such a panic.)

Then, the next day, after Superhero Sista Tee announces her work here is done and drives back home, Mr TC gets a call from his sixteen year old son, just had a fight with his mum, can he come back and live with us. Mr TC wants to book a flight straight away; I want to move to Brazil. I adore my stepson. Step-parenting is hard. I'm torn.

Seriously though ... what can I say? No? I love my stepson - we have the same humour, we get on very well. He is an amazing, strong guy with a huge heart. He lived with us between the ages of eight and fourteen .. that's a lot of history, and memories. Tiger still cries when he asks if his big brother is ever coming back to live with us. So. He is my husbands son. For better or worse. My husband has cancer. In sickness and in health.

Mr TC misses him dreadfully, and wants to be there for him as he goes through his bullshit teenage years. And I think .... hopefully Mr TC will go into remission. I'm pretty sure he will .... but if he doesn't, who am I to come between the relationship of him and his firstborn son?

So. The last few days I have been bracing myself for the news that he is coming. We still don't know yet. I dread the nights. Stepson stays up til 2am. I desperately need everyone on bed when I go to bed, or I can't sleep properly, because I know I will be up three times in the night with Monkey, and I just need quiet. I dread stepsons attitude towards me. I feel shitty about it .... I can't choose who I live with. The sneaking, the high-energy, the moodswings, and if I'm perfectly honest, that means less of Mr TC for me. I must share him. And I don't want to.

I know I will work through my shit and get over myself, but fuck man, can't it just be BORING here for a while?

I'm still swimming in things that need to be done. I finally cleared my email inbox yesterday ... I had 567 emails in there, new fucking world record. I still feel like I can't fight my way out of a wet paper bag. So much to do. Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Blah. Magnificent news is I keep falling MORE in love with Monkey, I can't believe the difference in my heart now. I have two sons! I am so lucky!

__________

"I love my shoes, mum. Now, get me a bib to match them. IMMEDIATELY!" ........





"That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!!" ....


"What is this thing anyway? A hand, you say? Hmmmmm. Interesting." ...



"My mummy has fat rolls on her tummy and doesn't give a shit! Somebody get her a cannoli, STAT!" ....

Lastly, you know what made my week? Last Thursday, a package arrived in the mail. From New York ..... a fellow blogger. I opened it, and PISSED myself laughing. Maya, I cannot believe you posted a fluffy toy halfway across the world, just for me. HILARIOUS. THANK YOU!!!
Maya sent me Topcat!! I'm sorry, how cool??


Funniest thing was when Mt TC saw it. He scoops it up. "Ohhhhhh, where did ya get this hon? Topcat was my favourite cartoon when I was a kid!" He launches into song. "Topcat! The indelectable, Topcat! Leader of the gang ...." his voice trailed off as I struggled to keep a straight face, and tried hard not to correct him. (It's indisputable, not indelectable. But, after eight and a half years of being together. I'm not allowed to correct him anymore, drives him crazy. I must suffer in silence, and try not to laugh at his mistakes). I told him Topcat was me, and that on my blog he was known as Mr TC. He smiled this funny smile, like he thought he was famous or something. My little beige Turdburger.