The Sugartown Gang was in full effect yesterday. They swam in Heather’s pool from four until after nine, with one tiny break to nibble on food. Their energy is out of this world, their laughter, vervacious™ enough to keep the planets in alignment, their goofiness…there are no words, not even made-up ones.
Heather hosted a bbq at Summer Central on one of what I’m calling my “furlough” weekends. It’s one of the four weekends this summer that follows a full week without chemo. That means it’s a weekend for as much fun as can be packed in. This weekend past was a furlough weekend, and I’ve got two left before kindergarten (omg) starts.
This weekend was one for the record-books. On Saturday I watched England lose (completely unfairly) to Ghana while the boys hunted for bugs in the garden. Then we went to John and Eddy’s in the East Bay and spent most of the day on the deck, gazing across the bay at what might have been San Francisco underneath all that fog. They’re babysitting a gorgeous little puppy, whom I was so worried Little J would fall in love with, but instead, I fell in love with. How could I not? He fell asleep right in my arms.
On Sunday morning, we took Little J to his swim lesson. It was the first time I’ve been able to go. Believe me when I say that sitting in the shade and watching little J have a lesson, then swim with his daddy for an hour is nothing less than full-on bliss. Just that. Just sitting and watching, comfortable in my body, loving them so much.
It’s tricky, this summer. There are eight weeks left. On the one hand, I want it to last forever. After all, did I mention Little J starts kindergarten at the end of it? And on the other hand, if when things go right as planned, I’ll be done with chemo by September 8th. So I kind of want it to go quickly.
Luckily, the only thing I can do is stay right in the moment, because each one is so different. Perfectly happy and energetic one day, curled up in pain and fever and oh-my-God-are-we-going-the-M*A*S*H* unit-ER-the next.
Today is happy, healthy, strong and grateful. And now I must go. I hear the vuvuzelas calling me. Go Braziiiilll! (Sorry Jon in Chile. Please forgive me for that one).