We plan on picking our kids up from school, but asked a friend to watch them on the playground for a bit once they were dismissed as we had sent an email to our kids teachers (who were amazing) asking to speak with them right after school, in private, and that it was very important.
True to form both emailed back during the day to confirm. We met in Sally’s classroom. Sally’s teacher is pregnant with her second child. She is the essence of motherhood at this moment. We share our news. We tell them everything. We tell them that we are only going to tell the community (by way of an email we are crafting for our head of school to send out later that evening) that it is a brain tumor. We are not sharing yet the C word. We are hopeful the surgery will be successful and the tumor benign so no sense getting everyone worried for no reason yet.
Sally’s teacher, Mrs. Carley, is clearly saddened– and consciously or unconsciously she places her hand on her belly. I wanted to do the same. I would have done the same if the situation was reversed. The mama bear instinct. Protecting your child. I don’t even know if she noticed it it was so organic. So instinctual.
Will’s teacher is this amazing, tall, incredibly fit guy with a reputation of being strict but encouraging and not being terribly patient when kids are out of hand as 10 year olds, on occasion tend to be. It’s why we wanted him as our sons teacher. Discipline…he is awesome.
But here is this man, who doesn’t engage with the parents much. It is intentional. The kids are getting older and independence is necessary for them as they get closer to matriculating from elementary school to middle school. And the parents too need to learn how to let go and allow their kids to be responsible for themselves, their work, their action and behavior.
Mr. Bush is a softy. OMG. We finish telling our news and without a word, he just gently places his hand on mine. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me with this amazing look on his face. He is going to take care of my son. I see it in his eyes. It was beautiful.
So we pick up our kids and head home. We go straight into the backyard. It is a bright sunny day (rare in March) so we start playing soccer, kicking the ball around and jumping on the trampoline.
I say to the kids with enthusiasm “oh by the way tonight I am going to kick everyones butt on both the HIGH of the day and the LOW of the day.” We do this each evening as a way of checking in on each other. The kids start laughing and of course one is saying no way I will win and the other is chiding me about my confidence.
I then say “okay I can not wait until dinner to tell you mine. I HAVE TO TELL YOU RIGHT NOW!! They say OK.
I said ” let me start with my HIGH. Today I went to Mrs. Wygals to see her new house. It is totally awesome and it is going to be so fun when we go there for a dinner party and sleep over. And you are not going to believe what happened. I walked in and was going to leave Margie outside. Of course Mrs. Wygal insisted she come in. So, Margie walks in…we go to sit in Mrs. Wygal’s living room. Everything is BRAND NEW. We sit down and we were starting to talk about something when Margie all of a sudden pooped on her brand new carpet!”
Well my kids were rolling on the ground with laughter. That was the funniest darn thing they’ve ever heard. I continued my story with great animation, “I absolutely screamed at the top of my lungs and grabbed the poop with my bare hands and ran into the bathroom and threw it in the toilet!”. Well now my kids are conceding no one can beat that story. It was a super duper HIGH.
So then I said “and I know I am going to win on the low because my low is SO low no one can beat that one either. I have a bump on my head. It’s right here. Do you want to feel it? ” Of course both kids say yes and come over and start rubbing where I am placing their hands. “I don’t feel anything?” both kids say. “I agree! I told the doctor he was absolutely crazy…didn’t know what he was talking about. And then he told me that my bump was INSIDE my head, sitting right smack on top of my brain. So Dad and I have named the bump Polly. AND Polly has to hit the road so the doctor said I am going to have surgery so he can get rid of Polly.” The kids asked if it hurt and I told them it didn’t. They asked if it was a tumor. The “T” word. I quickly said to the kids, directing it at Will, well some call it a tumor but I prefer to just call it Polly. So lets call it Polly. The “T” word didn’t come up again for weeks.
We told the kids that unfortunately, they had to take on new responsibility because of this. They had new jobs they were going to have to do and they needed to start working on it right away–all to help Mommy when she goes for her surgery. It was going to be the only way I could get better.
Of course now this is getting serious, and they are excited to hear about their jobs (and it has deflected away from the news of the tumor) and brought it back to something new and exciting about them. But we were HONEST, we told them what was going on and what we knew at that time was a fact. Polly was on my brain and Polly had to go.
Their new job: Mom is going to have this surgery and then for a few weeks my job is to sleep and rest and regain my strength. However, if I am stuck up in my bedroom which is where I will be, I need to be able to communicate with the kids. So I told them my head is going to hurt so I can not yell from my bedroom to get their attention so I think we need to get a bell – and when I ring it, you will know I need you to come upstairs. Will said with huge eyes and a very serious voice “what do you need when we come upstairs?” Before I could answer Sally said “Wait…there is one problem Momma…how will we know WHO you need? Will or Me?”. GREAT QUESTION….so we decided we do not need one bell, but two! and that each child would pick on their own bell and sound. I mean, it is obviously the best solution for sure. Such crafty kids.
Back to Will’s question of what will I need. I tell them both that sometimes I will want them to get me something to drink, sometimes I will want them to bring me a little something to eat. Will, husband Will, interjects ” no candy, chips, cookies or marshmellows” (a Ketcham kid favorite). It needs to be something healthy that you can learn to make. You guys need to call your Aunts or talk to your friends moms and get some recipes for really healthy snacks. Both kids agreed and said proudly, that they could do that. They start talking about fruit kebobs, and cheese and crackers…it was adorable.
I interrupted them and said, I may need something other than food or something to drink. Sometimes I may just want to snuggle up with you and watch a movie, or have you read yourr books to me, or ask you to tell me about your day. Sometimes my guess is that mommy just wants to see you and hug you and give you a big juicy kiss.
Satisfied with this answer they got excited. I was excited! Will was excited!
We had done it!
We made it…and there wasn’t a wounded body left on the field so to speak (or in our backyard where it all went down). Kids have received the news, we asked them many times that evening if they had any questions, and if they were nervous or anxious or scared…and that it was okay to be scared because both mom and dad were scared. We told them how each of them had to have surgery when they were babies and we were beside ourselves…so we have all had to have surgery and this was going to be Moms first big one.
The kids were brushing their teeth around 8pm, then came into our room and asked if they could share the news about me to their classes the next day. We said yes. But we also said that they needed to be prepared as someone was going to ask question like “is your mom going to die” and you need to be able to answer that one…
We had been told by my psychiatrist who confirmed I was not in fact having panic attacks, that should the kids ask us “is mommy going to die” we were not allowed to say NO. Because the truth is you don’t know. You just reassure them and say “well that is not the plan. I can’t wait to see you graduation, get married…and oh my goodness I am going to spoil your kids rotten when you are older…” anything to get away from the question honestly and with reassurance.
However, we couldn’t share our “acknowledge and deflect” strategy with an 8 and 10 year old. They both said they could handle it. And if someone asked they would say “well that is not the plan and she is going to be okay…but we are going to have to do a lot of new stuff at home because it will help her get better”.
I love my kids.
Why Not Me 