Because life isn’t fun enough, we now have half term.
Thankfully we are blessed to have a sanctuary in Spain. A home from home. Only warmer (usually) and with a pool. Also wine for less than £2. A bottle. That is drinkabe…
So we are going there for a few days. It had been planned for a while, but never more so needed than no.
Teenager doesn’t want to go. No Wi-Fi. Must be hell for him. We are such cruel parents.
His attitude irritates me, makes me feel resentful. He doesn’t know I have breast cancer but knows something is afoot..
More wine may be required
I will have to tell him this week and it’s not something I’m looking forward to. He has ASD so cannot guess his reaction. I’m worried though that if he reacts like I’ve told him I’ve got toothache I may just lose it.
So many times recently I’ve wanted to scream it out loud when he’s pouting about not being allowed screen time due to detention.
Who gives a shit about bloody PUB effing G! I might die!!!!!!!
Ok so everyone will die eventually so it wouldn’t have been a complete lie.
Grumpy Old Mum
I hate myself for feeling this way and yet I can’t stop.
Does it make me a bad mum?
Probably.
Do I care? Right now? Probably not.
See: Bad Mum
Fuck Cancer
The time arrives
Telling the teenager was something I have been dreading.
Last year at school, he came home really upset because one of the boys who bullied him, who was leaving the school, said those parting words of “Your mum’s old and got cancer”.
If he is your child, you should feel very proud…
So the perfect opportunity arose. We were sitting outside in the sun, having something to eat for breakfast. Just us. Hubby was, somewhere.
I was not expecting that!
So I told him.
I have cancer, breast cancer. I have to have a major operation in a few weeks time followed by other treatment. It is a very worrying time for us and I need you to put on your big boy pants and step up. I suspect I didn’t use those exact words but you get my drift. Do you have any questions, anything you’d like to ask or talk about?
“No. “
Okay so that wasn’t that surprising. I’ve just hit him with a huge lightening bolt.
“But I really don’t like wholemeal bread toasted”
What. The. Actual.F***
Now I wasn’t expected hysterics or anything. Maybe a quivering bottom lip and watery eyes.
But no. His concern was the toast.
I have to be honest it really upset me. And made me try and remember what I said. Did I say it right? I didn’t want to give too many details at this stage but I definitely used the word cancer didn’t I? I didn’t just tell him I had a boil on my bum instead did I?
But it’s okay, later he came into my room.
“Mum” he said. It’s okay, here it is. Questions. Bonding. Hugs. Love.
“Can I use some of your data”?
I may have had gin.
Sometimes you just need a hug
I also cleaned. Hubby always knows something is wrong when I clean. Not that I’m a dirty bitch or anything, but it comes upon me like a mist (or dust…) and I have to keep going as if wiping away my emotions before they erupt. And I scream and cry.
Yes there are lots of explanations for his reaction or lack of, and I accept them, I do. And I know that I am the parent and he is the child.
But sometimes I’m not a warrior, I’m not strong, I’m not fierce. I’m scared, I’m vulnerable, I am the child. Sometimes I just need a hug and to be told it’s going to be okay.
And I would have liked that hug to be from him. I would have liked to have been the child for a few minutes.
