Annie age 8 and  Wes Colvin age 11, Recipients of the Courage of Lucy Award 2011

I am SO VERY PROUD of my children. Cancer can have my breasts, my hair, my 14 lymph nodes, my uterus... but it can't bring my kids down to your level- nope not these two.

The Courage of Lucy Award is given out to a student of Dorothy Fox Elementary School every year. Lucy Warren was a courageous 8 year old that lost all 3 of her older brothers and her father in a tragic private plane crash. Jack, Will and Rob Warren were 14, 13 and 9 when the plane plunged into the Columbia River the day after Thanksgiving in 1999. My son Wes was born soon after on New Year's Eve Dec. 31, 1999.

This story breaks my heart... When I first heard that Wes and Annie had been chosen I cried. When I called my husband to tell him I cried. Then I cried again thinking about Jack, Will, Rob, and Lucy and their mother... Thank You Geri Pope Bidwell for honoring those students that courageously walk the halls of Dorothy Fox when all is not perfect in their lives. Thank you Dorothy Fox staff for recognizing my children, for supporting them, for loving them. Mike and I are so thankful.

 
 
Annie age 8 and  Wes Colvin age 11, Recipients of the Courage of Lucy Award 2011

I am SO VERY PROUD of my children. Cancer can have my breasts, my hair, my 14 lymph nodes, my uterus... but it can't bring my kids down to your level- nope not these two.

The Courage of Lucy Award is given out to a student of Dorothy Fox Elementary School every year. Lucy Warren was a courageous 8 year old that lost all 3 of her older brothers and her father in a tragic private plane crash. Jack, Will and Rob Warren were 14, 13 and 9 when the plane plunged into the Columbia River the day after Thanksgiving in 1999. My son Wes was born soon after on New Year's Eve Dec. 31, 1999.

This story breaks my heart... When I first heard that Wes and Annie had been chosen I cried. When I called my husband to tell him I cried. Then I cried again thinking about Jack, Will, Rob, and Lucy and their mother... Thank You Geri Pope Bidwell for honoring those students that courageously walk the halls of Dorothy Fox when all is not perfect in their lives. Thank you Dorothy Fox staff for recognizing my children, for supporting them, for loving them. Mike and I are so thankful.

The night before my last radiation treatment, my daughter asked if she could go with me... "you know mom, to be there for this important moment". I immediately said 'sure!' then asked if my son wanted to go as well. I had already asked my husband, so now my LAST radiation treatment followed by the 'bell ringing' was to be a family moment forever etched in 'Flip' time.

I handed over the camera to the kids...

Today I had yet another doctor's appointment at 3:30 pm that in turn requires the kids to go home with classmates. I try to schedule my appointments to avoid this, but it's not easy, then again either is farming out two kids every time this happens. Which is often... just ask the parents of my kid's friends.

It's been 9 months since my diagnosis. My children have been strong. My children have been informed. My community has protected and nourished my children throughout my cancer journey. Their classmates have made me cards, looked me in the eye and said "I hope you get better soon" and delivered flowers to my hospital room. click here to read the related post

But one kid missed the memo.

The first thing my son said when he walked in the door was "Mom, this kid on the bus said something mean. He said he couldn't tell if you were a boy or girl."

UM, hold up now. I'm thinking all sorts of things but not saying them aloud. They ranged from, what a little shit to yeah, well I am looking a bit like a boy lately. I also wanted to grab the lil' shit by the scruff, drag him to his mama and let her know how mean her kidlet was, how insensitive, and down right uneducated. AND obviously this kid hasn't met my big brothers.

But.... in the 5 seconds all those things went through my mind I found my high-road mama voice and asked

"How did that make you feel?" Wes replied "Angry."

Without pausing I asked what he said to the 'mean kid'. Wes said "Wait till you get cancer."

WOW... so proud of how he handled it. After 9 months this is the first time either one of the kids have had their 'mama' attacked. This was something I thought may happen. This was one of the reasons why I asked the kids before going hat-less for breast cancer awareness month. click here to see that post  This is why I contacted the kid's teachers, coaches, school counselor, their friend's parents and neighbors when I was first diagnosed. I wanted the grown ups to help their children understand cancer and answer the questions their children may have. I wanted my children to feel comfortable talking about cancer. Whispering behind closed doors wasn't our mode-of-operi.

So boy or girl...Yes, this is something I look in the mirror and notice. I do look boyish. My hair doesn't scream girlie-girl. In fact I joke with my girlfriends that I may be mistaken for their partner. I'm practically identical twins with my big brother. I do look boyish. And that's just how it is. It's what I physically feared the most about cancer and yet am now comfortable with. In spite of my 'boyish' hair I've continued to choose to go hat-less. But the chicarita in me dons my big ol' hoops, dresses a bit more feminine and continues to wear lipstick because that's who I am.

I've also chosen to talk with my kids openly about all sorts of topics. Cancer being one of them... but I am also communicative about why his preschool friend has two moms, why the greeter at Target is overly friendly, and the bag boy at Safeway has large red areas of skin on his face. I pause movies to explain scenes and I make comments about the behavior of characters they watch on tv. I want my children to understand and be understanding.

I'm hoping that little boy (from the bus) walked in the door and the first thing he did was ask his mother "What's cancer?"

So just what does a mama do to 'prep' before heading into surgery...

Laundry.

I've been asked several times how I feel about friday. I'm ok. I'm sometimes weepy. I'm prepping. As in getting my family ready to function without me.

Laundry is priority. Odd isn't it. How something so simple needs to be in order for a family to carry on. Soccer uniforms need to be ready to go and easily accessible. Favorite sweatshirts cleaned. Clean socks in the drawer.

I've made a list of details for my husband... it includes which child is going where, with whom, and how to contact them. He'll figure out the rest, he's smart.

I've stocked the freezer with a fresh bag o'chicken nuggets + fish sticks. The cupboard is full of cereal. There are enough goldfish to last 2 months. No one will starve. No one will care that there are no fresh vegetables.

I'm more focused or distracted by these types of details than my actual surgery. It's part of my hunker down, put on my blinders, just move forward attitude.

I'm a mom doing what needs to be done.