Schmircus

Yesterday, Mr TC was feeling well enough to go to an actual BBQ, with other actual PEOPLE. So we went. It was strange, being social again after hiding at home for so long. I sat next to an old lady, and had Monkey on my lap. She turned to me and said, "Oh my! Look at that babys eyes! Beautiful! He loves his mum, you can tell."

I was surprised. "Really?"

I thought, wow, he loves his mum? He hasn't had the best six months either. I often wonder how differently I would have parented him had Mr TC not got sick .... I suspect I'd have had a truckload more care, patience, and love. Fuck. Sucks that I waited and yearned so many years for this baby, and then Everything Happened. The crying and the screaming ,, from all of us, really. The nights are still so bad I just gave up. It used to be just me and him up every hour on the hour while his dad was upstairs in the chemo wing and I was trying so so hard to parent Tiger as best as I could, shield him from everything that was going on.

Now Monkey comes into bed with us. Which is setting him up for bad habits I know - but I can't handle it anymore, trying to placate him or control his crying. Aint nothing controlled about wanting to throw your crying baby out the window at 2am.

So in bed with us he goes, until next year when we are all back at work and school and settled again.

If I scratch the surface, it's easy to see that I've had a touch of post-natal depression. Probably other stuff. I wondered it often ... am I depressed, or do I just not give a fuck? I go in and out of it, still. I think it's finally abating now. God I hope so.

My Tiger is the most wise and knowing boy I have ever met. I adore him.

Anyway, so yesterday, the old lady kept turning to me, saying "Oh what a handsome boy. Is this your first? He loves his mum!"

And it made me feel special, that he loves me. Even when I kind of failed him a bit, back in the Fiascos Darkest Hours.

I am not failing him now .... he is happier, and less irritated. More content. It's a hell of a lot easier to parent a contented baby than a fussing one, I swear.

The old lady again turned to me, and, as if seeing me there with Monkey for the first time. "Oh! What a beautiful baby! Is he your first? My goodness, those eyes. Ohhhh, he loves his mum!"

Finally it dawned on me that she had dementia. I answered all of her questions again, and didn't mind, not one bit.

I really needed to hear, over and over again, what a beautiful baby he was, and how much he loved his mum.

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We went to the circus on Saturday night - the first time we have all been out together as a family. I even got a sitter for Monkey. We were SO excited. Naturally, halfway through we got evacuated from the Big Top because of a severe storm warning, and had to go home.

No circus for the cancer family. So annoying - Tiger was SO disappointed, and we had to come home and pay the babysitter after forking out $200 bucks for the freaking circus tickets.

Reminded me, yet again, that you can plan all you like, but things will happen as they will.

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Mr TC has had a personality transplant. Oh my GOODNESS he is being so mindful and caring and loving. So lovely. His smell is back! He smells like a man - a big, tough guyo. I didn't even notice his smell was missing, until it came back a week ago. That musky, sweaty man smell. LOVE it. I have missed it so ... all the hiroshima bombs that kept getting dropped on him every three weeks wiped him clean of all human-ness. I keep going up to him, grabbing him and smelling him, deeply. "Oooooo, yeah. Big tough guyo smell!"

He swats me away, but I know he loves it. I kind of feel like I make him a better man. Dunno how or why. Just feel it. When we first met he wore overalls and I had more money than him. And he had three kids. I took a lot on. Guess it's all about balance and compromise.

We ended up talking the price down and booking a nice house near the beach, for a week in January. Tomorrow, we are going down to the big shopping centre and doing Christmas shopping. Then, at 3pm, we have an appointment at the Big Hospital, with the Big Kahuna Doctor. Woe betide him if he tells us bad news WOE BETIDE. I would be so cranky that he made us wait almost three weeks to tell us.

As it is ... if it IS bad news, I will cry and rant and rave and stomp my feet, have three tantrums, tell the doctor to get fucked (yes, I will) wail and curse God. Then I will deal with it.

If it is good news ... well fuck, won't that be the shit?

XOXOXOX