karma chameleon

whenever a day goes this lousy, i always tend to extrapolate ... what ELSE will happen? what else can go wrong? do the days somehow know to bunch up all these little things, grouping them together to impose a greater sense of chaos and disarray on the unwitting victims, or is it just a spot of bad luck?

or will there be an earthquake tomorrow, or worse?

well, it's all 'small stuff', so no matter - printers exploding, internet disappearing, phones not working, washing machine threatening to self-combust, toilets leaking, water filters spontaneously becoming full-fledged fountains ... hmmm, on second thought, where is that hard hat of mine?

and, it is monday. start to the week, which will end with the kids being off for a seven days. no vacation ratified, we'll cruise through (with trepidation!). jane will just be getting over chemo, everyone scattering for the break ... we need to make some plans so we can structure the days a bit ... get out, see new york (or at least, the new york that WE never see). rangers games. broadway shows. observation decks. botanical gardens. uptown. a real culture club! i'm certain i can't bear to watch everyone shuffling around in their pj's for a week - been there, done that.

we'd love to take off for a few days at the end of next week - a mini-break in prague? frida kahlo's house in mexico city? riding bikes in santa monica? strolling the streets of charleston? a last-minute club med no-brainer? skiing in vermont? driving to montreal to see friends?

we'll play it by ear, gauge jane's health and energy, and make a decision. there's always the lure of the big apple!

talking to the kids ...

today jane and i are both a bit crazed - knowing that we are going to 'break it' to the kids this evening. we go about our daily business, me at home, semi-distracted, and jane at the hospital doing scans and tests - ugghhhh! but she's okay, hanging in there, moving forward. we speak sporadically, at once having absolutely nothing to say to each other, then not shutting up. we laugh hysterically about our own mortality, then recoil in horror! so insane.

friends and family who have gone through similar experiences are being tremendously helpful and insightful, and sustain us. we are being careful not to discuss it with any other people, not wanting the kids to hear it from anyone else (just what we need - a text message, or an alert on their much beloved facebook account). the day passes, i take the kids for pizza, marlee is on a high from the concert that she went to the night before at the garden, all is 'well'.

back at home, i wait for jane to pull up in the driveway - for consistency, i make our usual thursday evening soufflé and grilled asparagus, and pour the wine. when jane gets in, we sit the kids down - 30 minutes until ugly betty - and discuss the situation with them. as we sit them down, they are all convinced that jane is pregnant! "are you pregnant mom?", and "i can't believe it, mom's going to have a baby!", and they are laughing hysterically.

not quite, guys. we tell them. marlee is in shock, shock! jared is digesting. andi looks like a deer caught in the headlights. we talk about the surgery, how jane will look, their responsibilities, that she will be okay, that they know others who have 'gone through' this. their faces have not changed. digesting. in shock. seen a ghost. finally, we tell them it's okay to be scared or sad ... and andi BURSTS into tears, crying hysterically. we tell him that this was our reaction too, that it's okay - actually better than holding it in ...

in a few moments, they're back to the rangers game, ugly betty, the office, pilfering our soufflé. jane and i feel totally relieved - it is out in the open, no more phone calls from the bathroom, or whispering in bed. tomorrow we will solicit help for sleepovers on tuesday, car pools, etc. so we can focus on jane.

moving forward, day by day ... slow and steady.

h