Rebuttal

This morning, I enjoyed an hour with two friends sipping lattes and tea.  One is a working momma on maternity leave and the other a stay-at-home-dad.  The boys played, whined about wanting more juice, and we talked about the various stages of parenting roles we claimed.  Mr. Mom of two years shared some wise words.  Even though it is frustrating to not be out in the work world bringing home the bacon, talking to people over four feet tall, and basically having goals, he has come to realize that this time is "his" [pointing to his two year old son] time, and it will soon be gone.  Mrs. Working Mom chuckled and said, "Hey, maybe you need to hang out with my stay-at-home-dad husband and share your sage ways."
   To this, Mr. Mom responded, "Well, it did take me two years to figure this out.  Next year, he will start preschool and the whole thing changes."
   "Yes," I chimed in.  "I had a hard time sticking with nursing my second one.  But, I would look at him and say, it is only a few months out of my life so why not stick it out a little longer.  And before I knew it, he was at a good weening age."
   The conversation went something like that and continued as we discussed that the best way to "get through" tough parenting times was to realize that it was all going to be gone before we know it.  Some day not too far off, we will be marking the calendar for the days the when our adult children will come to visit our old bones
   So I have to print a rebuttal.  Most of my blogs are sappy complaints about the crappy situation my life, physical life, has become.  I cycle through three week increments making my next appointments and waiting for another scan to tell me I get a free pass to live a few more months.  Yes, this is really hard.  People often bemuse on how I do it...how can I be so strong.  And, when they figure out that I am probably running around moment to moment in some sort of low state of pain, nausea, headache or combination, they always say, "I couldn't do it with such grace." 
   To this, I will say, "Yes you could." 
   I have a great life.  My daughter has been asking me lately why I have so many friends.  I tell her it is because I smile a lot.  Really it is because I give a lot.  At least I think I do.  Karma is a wonderful thing.  I get a lot.  I get a lot of love for all the love I share.  And that love makes me smile and live just one day longer.  I threw my daughter a wonderful birthday party with all her girlfriends.  And I bring home my son's buddies for an afternoon of fun after pre-Kindergarten even when I am tired.  I am a mom, a stay-at-home-mom, just like you.  I praise that the sun came out on field day for my daughter and find joy in buying tickets for my son's gymnastics end of the year show.  He asked me if I would make it.  I wouldn't miss it for the world (that is as long as my cancer doesn't crap on my parade.)  Each night I creep up the stairs in the dark and check on my little ones asleep in their beds.  They are beautiful.  I cry.  I cry each and every night because this moment is fleeting.
   Just being a normal ol' parent person, one learns that this moment is very short.  Your kids grow up.  Your life changes just as much as the day you find out you are pregnant, only slower.  And even if things aren't exactly as you pictured it or desired it, it won't last forever.  Now, I get to see that more then others.  Yes, I think, just like you, that my kids will loose their youth and silly innocence as they grow and prepare to be adults separate from me.  I also kiss them every night on the forehead because I know it really could be the last time I get to kiss them. 
   So I take a rebuttal for my complaints and whining of how awful I feel and how strong I have to pretend to be to survive.  Life really is pretty great.  It is amazing.  I cry every moment I get.  I cry joy in the beauty of my children and in the life I created on this Earth.