Day with Mud

There is something wonderful about fall.

There are books to read outdoors

On blankets

In trees

While Mud knits another sock attempt.

ummm yeah I'm not sharing that.

I bet what I had for dinner beats what you had for dinner

Cancer.

Ok now that we are all thinking about the same thing I can move on to other things.

This is after all, the first thought before any other. Then all the frivolous stuff files in

like a "normal" person's brain.

Are his tumor markers up or down - Do we have milk?

What kind of Christmas do I plan for- Oh I love those tea cups.

Mouse droppings-is that something I will have to learn to handle on my own? -Mice sure are cute and they live in family groups, I can't remove the bread stealer.

Cry.

Blech!

But that is how it goes.

It's the middle of November! @#$%$#@.

This is my oh dear how did I let the year go by again moment.

As well as my Oh S#$%! Christmas is two days away moment. Well that's what it feels like.

At least there is November.

We slow down so much here in Nov. There is no TV to distract us. We stop everything and have tea and cookies each afternoon. There is a break in the kids activties and we begin to close down the outside and open up the comfy places inside our home.

In November, we take a moment together in the evenings to mark down what we are thankful for. Below is our Thankful tree.

Every year we save the leaves and someday when my children are grown they will be able to look back on the things that made us grateful.

I guess you could say it's been a LONG year. It's not even over yet. I've known for sometime that I was walking on an emotional tight rope. Repeating to myself daily, not today, this is not the day to let it go. There have been moments, tears in the eyes, lump in the throat. But they have always been swallowed up. We count our blessings everyday in the ways that we are fortunate. We have after all been lucky enough to create the life we want. After two months in a high stress medical environment, away from our children, I came home to a house full of love. The love of our children is obvious in their constant demands, deep snuggles and willingness to pick up their battles with us right where we left off. The family that came and went taking care of our life while gone left their marks too. A costume made, a blower taped together, a chore completed. We came home and life resumed it's normal speed. We had carpool and homework, lessons, dinners. We began the traditions that we do at this time of year. Our thankful tree is full of leaves that speak to the things that bring us joy. Tea is served with cookies everyday. Our TV if off our fireplace is lit. We sit quietly as a family in front of it each night reading aloud. This is where I have broken. This quiet moment where we are as still as we get. The story is simple and rich. It is about love. Losing it, finding it, great loss and great recovery. For the last couple of nights, I sat by that fire with my children and husband and it has come. I have cried every night. Not the big screaming tears I felt in April. Not the frustrated tears that came every so often. Not even the are you kidding me oh hell tears from August. These are quiet letting go tears. Letting go in little pieces. Putting the past six months onto the pages of this book. My children think (because I tell them so) that I am crying because I am tired. That is not entirely untrue. I am tired. So tired.