Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Laundry - 1, Me - 0

I do roughly 8 loads of laundry a week. I think that's pretty decent considering there are 5 of us. (I do 3 loads of dishes in the dishwasher a day but that's a different post)
You'd think that because I do so much laundry I'd be able to do it with my eyes shut right? Not so.
I bought a new blouse last week. I really liked this blouse. It was pink (I don't own a lot of pink, I'm normally not a fan) It was flattering (for my ever growing body - damn food!) And it looked good with jeans or dress clothes so I would actually get a lot of wear out of it.
Most of my wardrobe is kid friendly. Let's face it, I'm not going to wear my Sunday best when I'm finger painting with 19 month olds or making paper mache volcanoes with 6 year olds. So I don't own a lot of dress clothes. It's a waste of money for me.
I don't spend a lot of money on clothes. I would rather buy stuff for the kids and often feel guilty about buying things for myself.
I did the laundry this weekend. I specifically looked at the tag of my new blouse and decided that I would not put it in the dryer because it would shrink.
Usually when I do laundry I bring Connor downstairs with me, I can't hear him up there and he likes to play with Nana (read: he likes to eat Nana's cookies) But Nana wasn't home and he was engrossed in watching Chicka Chicka Boom Boom in the girls room so I ran down real fast to switch the load. And guess what got thrown in the dryer. Yep, my new blouse. I was right about it not going in the dryer. It could probably fit Emily now. And the thing is, as much as I loved this blouse I probably won't go buy another one because I'd hate to spend the money (and it wasn't even expensive!)

It's just another lesson in why my wardrobe is denim and t shirts. It's all I can wash without screwing it up.

Sunday, June 28, 2009


UGH!! I developed seasonal allergies last year. I used to think people who complained about allergies were just big, old babies (okay, so I'm not a very sympathetic person). Well karma has come to bite me in the ass along with my new found allergies.
My guess is that it's pollen. The car is covered in it but I can't even seem to escape it inside. Of course, there are an excessive amount of flowers inside at the moment, funeral leftovers. The sniffly, sneezy feeling I can deal with. But the itchy palate. Holy crap! There's an allergy remedy commercial and it shows someone scratching the roof of his mouth with a fork. That's me! And the itchy eyes. I can't bear them. I rub them to the point that they swell shut.

Now I could suck it up and take an allergy pill. The thing is, I can't take something that causes drowsiness. So that rules out all the good ones. I could take a non drowsy but I'm not convinced it would work. Plus, I'm not a pill popper. I've got to be pretty hurtin' before I'll even take something for a headache so the thought of taking allergy pills for the duration of allergy season doesn't appeal to me. So while I bitch, we can all agree I'm not doing much to rectify the problem.

And that makes me what? Yes, that's right, a big, old baby.

Friday, June 26, 2009

And now the healing begins

I think this is the suckiest part of all that has happened in the last month. I mean we all know life goes on but there is a little bit of guilt associated with that. For most of us it's one day at a time. I'm sure for my mom it's one breath at a time. But in the past few days I'll catch myself having bit of fun and feel bad about it. I know it's ridiculous and it does not serve anyone well to dwell on this. As my Uncle pointed out in his eulogy my dad lived a good life. Not always an easy one but it was always full of love and family and friends. So rather than being sad about that which we can't change it's time to move forward and live the same kind of life my dad did, full of love and family and friends.

So on that note, let's talk kids.
We're trying to teach Connor to say please. See, he's fallen victim to the third child syndrome. He doesn't have to speak because A: Sean and I are more experienced parents now and an read his non verbal cues a lot more quickly than we did with Emily, B: he has two doting older sisters who give him anything he wants with a mere point and grunt, and C: sometimes, in the hub of dealing with 8 children at once it's just easier to give in to the point and grunt than it is to work on the language.
Yesterday Connor wanted some chips. So he pointed and grunted. Sean told him he needed to say please. I even demonstrated, saying please a couple of times and Sean would give me a chip.
He was not giving in. Point and grunt and then throw a fit when he didn't get a chip. Later that evening we had to run to the mall (the night before last day of school and we still didn't have teacher gifts!) While we were in the car I sneezed. Connor thought that was pretty darn funny and then spent the rest of the drive saying "ACHOO!" Are ya kiddin' me!! He can say achoo but not please.
When we got home he thought he'd hit Nana up for a chip (oh and let it be known, Nana's name isn't Nana anymore - it's cookie. Much like Pavlov's dog - Connor sees Nana - Connor wants a cookie) Nana asked him to say please. After a bit of coaxing she managed to get a "deep" out of him.
Close enough.

Emily has a new pen pal. She had one a few years ago but her pen pal moved and writing to someone you can see anytime is not as much fun apparently. So I hooked her up with one of my fertility friends daughter who is the same age. Emily is so excited, not just because she has a new pen pal but because her pen pal lives in the States - and "not just like Buffalo that we could go to anytime we want but faaaaaarrrr in the States" I guess upstate New York doesn't count as a different country to her anymore, btdt. It's helped to take her mind off of the stuff going on here. And being that she's feeling all patriotic with Canada Day coming and being that her new buddy lives in some foreign land (insert chuckle and eye roll here) she's making a care package.

Mary Jo, now there's a funny kid. My nephew Micheal was here yesterday after the funeral. He's 15. All of my brothers kids are fantastic teenagers. Respectful, polite and considering they are all older than the rest of their cousins by several years, extremely playful and tolerant with the little ones. Well Mary Jo was quite taken with her cousin. She followed him around all afternoon. She'd climb into his lap if he sat down. She showed him every single stuffed animal she owned and, being the giggly little girl, she chased him around outside for a bit. Every now and then he'd come to Sean and plead with him "help me!" out of the corner of his mouth but he was such a good sport about it all. Mary was quite sad when he left. If we didn't know better we'd think Mary had a crush on her big cousin.

It will certainly be easier to get her ready for family events now though, we'll just tell her Mike will be there.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

A letter of thanks

My dad's funeral is in a couple of hours. It's been a hard few days.
We all know that in times of crisis one often finds out who their true friends are but I think until we are ourselves faced with a crisis do we really understand how true that is.

I think for me it wasn't so much a matter of finding out who wasn't my friend but more of finding out how many people are there to support me, no matter the time that has passed in our friendship or the distance between us.

My very dear friend drove 2.5 hours to be there for me. Another very dear friend who I've only seen a handful of times in 7 years came out to be with me. She's lost both her parents and knows the sadness I feel. And of course my best friend who has always been there for me, no matter how shitty things are, has stood by my side through it all.

And there are so many people out there who I've never even met, our bond created by the birth of our babies, who have continued to offer me support, a kind word, an ear or (virtual) shoulder.

Losing our parents is something we all expect at some point in our lives but when it actually happens it's hard. Terribly hard. But I've been blessed with a wonderful group of people who have held my hand, hugged me and made this journey a little easier.

Thank you all for being there for me. And though I hope that none of you will ever need it, I will be there for you when you need comfort.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Blended Families

My mom got a card today from her sister in law. She had written something in it that made me think of how my parents could be the poster children for how to do blended families right.

My Dad was widowed at a very young age and left with two young sons. My Mom divorced her first husband and became a single parent to a son. So when they married (37 years ago this coming July 1) at the ripe old ages of 25 and 26 they already had an instant family.

"Step" was never used in our house. Neither was "half". My brothers never referred to their new parent as a "step" parent. It was Mom or Dad. My brothers never referred to each other as "step" brothers. It was always my brother (or jerk, nimrod, even the occasional asshole...) And when I was born, the only child to be born of both parents I was not the half sister. I was just the baby sister. (and spoiled rotten being the only girl)

I used to say I was the glue that brought our family together because I am the only one who is related, by blood, to every other person in the family. But truth be known the glue was my parents commitment, right from day one, that they would raise their children, together, as one family, not two families joined together. They did a hell of a job. And though we've had our issues in the past (doesn't every family) we pull together like the strong family we are. And it's all due to them.
The success of a mans life is not measured by the job he held, the money he had or the things he owned but by the people he's left behind.
The most successful man I know passed away last night.
Rest in Peace Daddy.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Our visit

I have a small sense of relief now. I brought the kids up to see my dad at the hospital this morning. He's on some new drugs that stop the restlessness and moaning so now he's sleeping more soundly and it's not the same hard scene it was the other day.
Of course, he's lost most of his hair and didn't have his teeth in so to the girls he didn't quite look like himself and it wasn't until I lifted Connor up close that he recognized it was Papa but they got to see him none the less.
They brought his Father's Day card and we hung it on the wall near his bed. They coloured and played and that was fine. And when we left they all gave him a kiss. I feel better knowing that they were able to see him at least once more. And though he's not awake I'm sure he heard them there and felt their love.
I was thinking on the drive home about something my brother said while we were there. He commented on the way my Dad is now is a better way to remember him than he was a few days ago. Part of the reason why we haven't brought the kids was because we didn't want them to remember their Papa being in a bad way. But you know, I don't think it works that way.

I've got 30 + years of memories of my Dad. I remember things like how every night at bedtime instead of reading me stories he would bring in the cub scout handbook (he was a cub leader for my brothers) and we'd sing songs from the cub scout book (like Found A Peanut and On Top of Spaghetti) I remember my Dad pitching the tent in our backyard so we could camp out and night and how he never got mad when I would get scared and want to go back in. I remember how my Dad was the 'quiet one' and my best friend nearly having a stroke when my Dad said good morning to her one day, despite the fact that she'd been living with us for about a month.
I remember him taking us to Thompson Park for barbecues and taking us roller skating at Roller World. I remember him let me drive his Mustang (though I'll bet he didn't really want me to) and him helping me pick out my first car (and then teaching me to drive it because it was a standard and I didn't know how to drive it) I remember seeing him play with my kids, calling each one of them his best friend when they were little or pretending that he was surprised when Mary would drink all of his milk at supper.

No matter the state I see my dad in now, those are the memories I will keep with me. Because it's not the last month that anchors my relationship with my dad, it's the 429 months before it.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Romance in the 9th year

Emily is finally at the age where she notices boys, likes boys and yes, officially has her first boyfriend (you didn't hear that from me!)
I've gained enough of her 9 year old confidence that she told me about her boyfriend and without pressuring every now and then I'll ask how things are.

So today here's the story. Her bff was asked out by a boy they've gone to school with since JK. This boy was the one who would try and hug Em in JK and it freaked her out (she's all about personal space) Anyhow, Em's bff said yes to the boy and now they are *dating*.

Let's talk dating. For the Grade 4's at her school this means you play together at recess. You might talk on the phone or email but it's rare. You don't hold hands (ewww!) but you get the title of *so and so's girlfriend/boyfriend.* and your names get combined. So if her boyfriends name was Joe (it's not) her name would me Jomily and his name would be Joey. (yeah, well you were 9 once too! lol)

So today Emily drops a bomb that her bff's boyfriend is taking the relationship "waaaay to fast" My Mom-dar is going off like crazy! Way to fast? I've read about 10 yr old girls showing up pg. Girls are losing their virginity so damn young these days (like I grew up in a time when girls waited for their wedding night and then hung the blood stained white sheet out on the line for the village to know she was pure) There's all this *sexting* and unthinkable things going on. What in the world has Em's bff gotten into and I need to give her mom a heads up.

Apparently bff's boyfriend kissed his hand and put it on bff's cheek. But you see, they've only be *dating* for two days and this is moving much to fast. God bless my sweet, innocent daughter. I hope she stays this way forever.

Here's the real kicker though. Apparently Em had her first kiss today. Her boyfriend kissed her on the cheek and she reciprocated.
I can deal with that. And let's hope these wonderful, pure and innocent cheek kisses continue to make her this happy for a very very long time. I know I'd be thrilled.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Strength is in the eye of the beholder

If you had have asked me as recently as two days ago if I thought I was a strong person I would have said "Absolutely!" I've had my share of shitty experiences and managed to come through with my head held high, a smile on my face (even if it was sometimes a fake one) and optimism for the road ahead.
If you asked me today I would have a very different answer.

I have not held any illusions about my dad's illness. I haven't fooled myself into believing that he would get better, or for that matter that he would be able to fight it for a long time. Just look at some of my recent posts. But I also didn't know just how hard this would become. Just last Saturday I sat on the back deck with my Dad. He reminded me of the story of how I got the tuition for my second year of college. He was confused at times and in pain, but he was here and we were with him (and he was with us)

I went to see him last night in the hospital. I thought I was prepared. I knew what my mom and brothers had told me. I knew how he was when he left here Monday. But even now, I can't think about how he is now without falling apart. I don't think I stayed more than 5 minutes at the hospital. And I am so consumed with guilt over that.
My mom is there everyday. My brothers are there everyday. I'm there for 5 minutes, fall apart and I can't fathom going back - it just hurts too much. I can only take heart in knowing that he doesn't know I was even there (or that I'm not there)

My mom tells me not to feel guilty. She tells me I was here for him everyday that he was home, helping in anyway I could. But I feel like a pile of shit for running away when it got to scary. He wouldn't have done that to me.
And I wish beyond words can say that I had have told him what a great father and grandfather he's been. I can tell him now but I don't know that he's going to really hear it. Because despite knowing how sick he was, I still thought there would be time. I didn't want to sound like I was writing him off or saying goodbye. I know he knows how much we love him but I should have said it once more while he could still really understand it.

I'll go again on Father's Day. As hard as it will be - it's going to be the last Father's Day I get to spend with him and no matter how hard it will be, I wouldn't miss it for anything.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

So it would appear that the girls will not get to say goodbye to their Papa in person. I haven't been to see him yet, I'm going tonight, but from what John and my mom have told me, it would be too frightening for them. I don't want them to remember him that way. I'm sad for them though because I think of any of the grand kids, they will need closure and I don't know how they'll get it now. I'm sure the funeral will give them a bit but I'm not sure how much of it will be just too over their heads.

They made pictures last night for him. I told them I'd bring them to the hospital for them. I don't think I will, I think my mom plans to keep them but the girls don't need to know that. The pictures were for them, a little art therapy if you will. And besides, my dad won't actually see them. I don't think he's awake for more than 5 minutes at a time.

I'm going to see my Dr on Monday, for something unrelated but I think I'm going to ask for a referral for the girls, especially Em.

This morning I went downstairs to do some laundry. Connor came down with me and got a cookie from Nana. Then, as we were heading back upstairs he changed his mind and went toward Papa's room calling for him. He peeked in and looked around, calling for Papa. I feel so sad for him. I know that one day, he'll forget Papa and only have pictures and memories we give him and I hate that because right now Papa is his world. ("Papa" was his first word) and I hate that he won't have memories of his own of him.

I hate that they don't get to say goodbye.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Yesterday I helped my mom plan my dad's funeral. To be honest, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I felt more like I was talking to a low pressure used car salesperson. They try to up sell you on everything but you only need to say no once.
So the plans have been made and now we wait.

My dad was taken back to the hospital yesterday. I doubt he will live another two weeks. He went downhill quite quickly this weekend, from shopping for a new gazebo with my mom to not being able to swallow. He's ready to go. He's had enough pain. And this Friday will have been 1 month since his diagnosis. Shocking how fast it has gone.

I had hoped that the kids would have had a chance to say goodbye to him before he left. I hadn't planned to bring them to the hospital because I don't want that to be the last thing they remember of their Papa. But they came and got him while I was picking the girls up from school. So we're going to the hospital tonight. I won't bring them again after today but I want (and they both want too) them to have the chance to say goodbye to him. It will be a short visit but they both want to go. I think it will give them the closure they'll need rather than Papa just mysteriously disappearing forever.

This whole thing sucks.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

You can always come home

I've never been one to embrace church. I was brought up Catholic, went to church when forced and got most of my religious training in my 14 years of Catholic school. But aside of going to church to 'be seen' when it was time to get married or have one of my kids baptised, I don't really go to church. I'm not even a Chr-Easter catholic.
It was always important for me though that the kids be baptised and go to catholic school. I don't have the knowledge to impart any spiritual wisdom on them and I rely on their school (and the masses they go to from there) to do that for me.
I've become what I've recently heard described as a buffet style catholic. I pick and chose which parts of my religion work for me. So it's important to me that my kids receive all their sacraments but I haven't been to confession since my First Reconciliation.
I've questioned whether the catholic church was the right church for me, more than once and had my overall faith tested. The latter part of 2006 took a toll on that. And though I've wondered about my place in my church and it's place in my life I've also taken solice in knowing I had it.
My dad expressed and interest in seeing a priest. I don't fully know where his beliefs lie. I know that beyond going to church for an event (wedding, baptism, first communion) he doesn't go to church and I can't recall him ever going to church.

I called the priest at the church we go to (as it were) I explained to the priest my dad's situation and asked if he would come over. Now I'll be honest, I expected him to ask if we were parishioners. I expected him to ask if my dad was a practicing catholic. These things were asked before we got married, before each of our kids was baptised (in fact, he baptised Connor and gave Emily her first reconciliation and first communion and asked us each of those times) But all he asked this time was where and what time. Because all that mattered was that someone needed a little bit of God.

I guess it showed me that no matter what you do with your life, no matter the path you take you can always go home and find the peace that you need. And I guess that no matter my questions about my faith or my church, I know that when I need it most, it's there to take me through.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

The innocence of a 6 year old

Last night Mary Jo was in her room. I peeked in and she was on her bed, listening to the Jonas Brothers on the stereo and reading one of those teen magazines that had the Jonas Brothers in it. So I watched through the crack of the door for a bit thinking about how my baby was growing up. And then she started kissing the pictures of the Jonas Brothers in the magazine. It made me laugh. I remember doing to same thing with pictures of Michael Jackson and the guy who played Bo Duke in the Dukes of Hazard.
A few minutes later she came out to talk to me.

"Mommy, I wish I was the Jonas Brothers dog"
"Their dog? Why their dog? Don't you wish you were their girlfriend?"
"Eeew NO!! I just wish I was their dog!"
"Well why would you want to be their dog?"
"Because they love their dog and take it everywhere"
"So you wish you were their dog so you could go everywhere with them?"
"Well why not be their friend and then you can do fun stuff with them too and go to their concerts and stuff"
"No, cause they love their dog best. You know what? There was picture of the Jonas Brothers kissing their dog"
"So you want to be their dog so the Jonas Brothers will kiss you?"

So maybe she's not so grown up just yet.
I'm trying to make sense of how being a dog that they kiss gets a "YEAH!" but being their girlfriend gets an "EWWW!"

Monday, June 8, 2009

I'm going to the garden to eat some worms...yum yum

There are very few things that make me really squeamish. Egg snot is a big one. My egg has to be thoroughly cooked. I don't like the look of distorted body parts (think compound fracture) or that show where the doctor with the German accent dissects cadavers or those shows that show you surgeries. So needless to say, becoming a doctor or nurse is not really in my future.
But, you can throw at me any kind of bodily fluid coming from a child and it's not problem. I can change the messiest of diapers while eating lunch. (I don't - but I could) I'm also not grossed out by scenes on shows like Survivor where they eat nasty things like grubs, bull testicles or those chicken fetus eggs.
Sean on the other hand has the weakest stomach. He's thrown up mid diaper with all three of the kids at one point or another. He wretches when one of the kids has runny nose tusks. But the funniest thing is his reaction to someone eating worms. Even an episode of The Simpsons where a kid had a mouthful of worms sent him off urging. And yet, he's downed handfuls of chocolate covered crickets and meal worm cookies at the zoo. Go figure.
So yesterday we were tilling our backyard. The sod is being delivered sometime today. I'm pretty excited to finally have a backyard instead of a dust bowl.
Now I don't remember how this came to pass but my mom volunteered to eat a worm for the bargain basement price of $20. I'm not one to pass up on something so freakishly gross so the girls dug up a nice fat juicy worm and sure enough, down the hatch it went.

I guess now, seeing it in person, you can most definitely add that to the list of things that gross me out. All I can think about it is slithering down the throat. AGH!! blech. And this from the woman who won't eat liver.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Rough start

I came out this morning to give Connor breakfast and check my email. My morning ritual. My dad was on the computer. Not in itself unusual but it was before 7 am and he's not often on the computer that early.

He was clicking the mouse the way the girls do when the computer is running slow and they are impatient. He then started talking to me about not being able to make the "blowees" work. I asked him what a blowee was (he had googled it and was on some page that was mostly gibberish) He picked up Mary's barrette that was beside the computer and said "I think it's this" I said "No Dad, that's a barrette" He said "Oh, well I can't get this game to work"
I explained to him that he wasn't on a game, (he doesn't even play games on the computer) it was just information. So he clicked, clicked, clicked a while more and then closed the window and got off the computer.

It's moments like this that scare me and hurt me. I hate to see him this way. He's confused a lot more often now and it's heartbreaking. He still knows who we are, he still gets a kick out of Connor giving him hugs and joking with the girls.

It's a horrible thing to say but I can't help but wish that it had have been a stroke or heart attack that took his life (we all thought it would be) instead of this.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Crap, crap crappity crap

What is it with me an appliances?

We bought all new appliances when we moved in here 7 yrs ago. Since then, the fridge has some kind of ice build up in the freezer issue which requires us to chisel our way through the freezer once a week or our food gets frozen in. And now the dishwasher is broken.

Now, in all fairness, I would think the average family runs their dishwasher once a day. I run mine 3 times a day, minimum. In the summer months and when school is out, I run it 4 times. I can get away with using paper plates to a point but lets face it, that money tree in the backyard isn't blooming like it should and even at the dollar store it can get pricey always using paper.

And of course, this comes on the heels our dropping a boat load of money to get the sod for the backyard (cross your fingers that the rain on Sunday and Monday holds off!!) So I guess this Saturday is devoted to dishwasher shopping. And then there is the waiting for it to be delivered and the even longer waiting for Sean to actually install it.

Maybe life would be easier if I hand washed the dishes. Do you think I could deduct a portion of a manicure on my taxes because I got dishpan hands washing the daycare dishes? Probably not.
But - I can deduct a portion of the new dishwasher so I guess it's not all bad. :)

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Call me crazy

There have been times in the past 15 years of my career that I've questioned my choices and sometimes even my sanity.

6 years ago, in an effort to fill spaces in my new home daycare, I took on a little boy who was the same age as Mary. Two days a week I had two one year old babies all day long. Within two weeks I questioned my choice. There were days I was run ragged, tired, drained and wondering how it was that two small people could do that to me. I was a fool to think I could handle this. I was still learning how to be the mother of two children, virtually alone because of Sean's new job, and with no prior daycare experience with infants (the centre I had worked at for 10 yrs did not have infants or todds)
But rather than giving up, sending the little guy packing, I took in another family...and another infant. This time a 10 month old.
So now I've got 3 under the age of 15 months and though I was still exhausted both physically and mentally, I managed to jug along.
But then my first little guy left the daycare and rather than enjoying the quiet and calmness of only have two babies I took in another. Again, the same age as Mary and again, I had three under 15 months.

As luck would have it that was the best decision I've ever made because, 5 years later, that sweet little girl is still in my daycare and I love her to bits.
But here's the thing. I got lucky. This little one just fit so perfectly from day one that I knew there was no way it wouldn't work. And despite having three under 15 months my days were easy, not too stressful and fun. And those memories are fresh still which is why I thought I'd try that again.

So my new little girl started today. She's a sweetie pie. Very cute and the most hysterical facial expressions I've ever seen. She's been very good natured during her *getting acquainted* visits and I'm sure she'll fit in just fine. But I'm trying now to figure out how I juggle the new 11 month old with my two 19 month olds. They are where my problems lie. They are at the *my toy* stage. My toy, my Mom, my Jean, my blankie, my cup, my air, my world.... so much of my day is spent redirecting and refereeing.

But for right now it's quiet, everyone is sleeping, I've had lunch, I've checked my email and have time to blog. I will never again take for granted being able to use the bathroom. For now my new little miss has to come with me. And it could be worse. I think back to one little character I had who screamed holy murder in the playpen at naptime, climbed out of it (unbeknown st to me) pulled all of my laundry out of the hamper all over the floor and spilled a can of diet coke all down his shirt.
I can deal with a little company in the bathroom.

Monday, June 1, 2009


There isn't a whole heap to tell. My dad had his last radiation treatment today. They'll reevaluate soon and meet with the oncologist. They mentioned looking at the option of chemotherapy but they also said early on he wasn't a candidate so my expectations are not high.

He seems to be in pretty decent spirits. He gets confused a lot easier and when he realizes he's confused he'll say "Well, my brain is burned."
For the most part he doesn't seem to be in too much pain but he's also medicated quite regularly because really, there is no need for him to be in pain.

As for the kids, I read the story to them the day is came and we talked about what they thought and felt about Papa being sick. Mary had some more tears and a cuddle. Then we got out the workbook and I let them choose a page. They chose the award page and made my dad a Worlds Best Papa award. His bedroom is quickly becoming an art gallery.
I had sent a note to school with the kids the day after we told them, just making their teachers aware of the situation at home in case of any unexpected behaviour at school. I discovered this morning that Emily didn't give hers to her teacher (despite telling me she did) I think she was embarrassed.
I spoke with her teacher today and I'm glad I did because I think her teacher is fantastic and has a really good read on the kind of child Emily is. I think she'll be able to pick up on any issues Emily might be having.

Besides that, not a lot to say today.