One of my favorite holiday movies is “Christmas Vacation.” So many good one- liners. The scene with Russ helping his Dad, Clark, put up the outdoor lights is eerily familiar. I am not sure if I volunteered or was volun-told to help Dad put up the outdoor lights but I did. (I do not remember if my sisters helped throughout the years so not trying to discredit their memory.) First thing first, it was cold. Hat, gloves, winter coat. Sometimes there was snow already littering the ground. We would get out the boxes of colored lights in some sort of tangled mess. Untangling took a little dance to figure out. Wearing gloves did not help with the dexterity of gently untangling the mess of lights. Pull too hard and a light would break. But the long strands made it complex to unwind. When the lights finally got unraveled, Dad would get out the wooden ladder and we would begin putting the lights on the gutters. It never failed a few lights were burned out and needed to be replaced. Or sometimes the whole strand would not light. I remember my Dad on the ladder getting more frustrated as time went on. He was normally the much calmer parent of the two. But putting the lights on would ignite a string of bad words out of him and I remember not knowing how to respond. All I knew was not to poke the bear. If I was cold, I didn’t mention it. If Dad asked for more gutter clips, I was lighting quick responding. And so it went till eventually our lights were on the house and on the outdoor Evergreen bushes which sat right in front of our porch. The end result was great. Our house was covered in multi-colored glow. I always thought it was pretty. There was one year our house was in the towns home show. (No idea why as it was 2100 square feet. Maybe it was all the antiques my parents had collected. Which unleashes the worst and most lamented part of my childhood: antiquing. Our parents would go to these antique shows, normally on “vacation”, and bring us kids along. That meant we were parked in a field and the kids were left to occupy ourselves for hours while my parents perused hundreds of antique vendors. The only redeeming thing was if various vendors had a little dish of candy and I would try to stuff my pockets full with all the hard candies. Other than that, I was bored out of my mind. In a random field with nothing to do and no one to play with. My older sisters would be reading Nancy Drew or the Babysitters Club and being the stellar student I was not, I had zero interest in reading (just yet). Probably because school didn’t come easy for me. Sports, yes. Studies, not so much. So kids. In a field. By themselves. Gotta love the 80s). But because of this home tour, we decorated extra. We had a candle light in every window and our front door was a giant present. Shimmery green wrapping paper covered the front door, complete with a red ribbon and a giant styrofoam candy cane that Mom wrapped around with red ribbon, secured with bobby-pins to create the peppermint candy cane look. Playing out in the snow, I would look at the exterior of our house and it was beautiful in all its Christmas glory.

One therapist I had would gently remind me not to compare my insides to people’s outsides because that is an unfair and unknown comparison. And that is the truth. Only exacerbated in the holidays (in my humble opinion). I never send a holiday card out even though every year, I think, “this is the year!” Alas, this is not the year. But piggybacking off of Chris’ last post. I’ll give my own insight to the rest of the family. 

Our oldest is Jude. He is 13, in 8th grade and has grown three inches since my cancer diagnosis on February 12th. He is smart, loves watching Formula One racing and Premier League soccer, and enjoys playing basketball. He has great one-liners and has a tender and gentle heart. I feel he has matured leaps and bounds this year (physically as well as emotionally). He doesn’t comment too much on my cancer but when his science teacher shared about his own Mom having breast cancer, Jude was quick to share that conversation with me. I relish the car rides with Jude as it is some good one-on-one time with him and I can tease him and hopefully hear more from him of how he is really doing. 

The middle is Dylan. The only girl sandwiched between her brothers. She is 10 and in 5th grade. Not only is Dylan school smart, she is people smart as she knows the exact buttons to push on her brothers. Her teachers kindly call it being socially gifted. She loves crafts, being with friends and “preppy” things. While I have limited understanding of the Sephora obsession and what makes something “demure”, she has a flair and confidence I hope to foster and encourage. When we are not arguing about what beauty products she “needs” or what is appropriate for a 10-year-old, we have had some good conversations about what it means to be a good friend, how to create safe and appropriate boundaries and also just chatting about what is next in the cancer journey. Dylan is probably my most vocal about my cancer or wanting me to make sure her friend’s parents know about me. 

Theo is our youngest at 8 years-old and in the 2nd grade. This kiddo radiates joy. He loves to chat, be in the know and hates to lose in any game he can control. He is jokingly referring to as the Mayor. If he doesn’t know you, he will sit on your lap or next to you and just chat until best friend status has been unlocked. He is quick to hug and often hugs Chris and me in the middle of an argument. He is fascinated by Babs and keeps commenting on the poop in my bag. But this aspect of treatment is very tangible to him. Just like my port. He can see this and physically touch Babs. He has no filter so if you want a secret kept, Theo is not your guy. He shared during community circle in class about my surgery to get Barbara. I think it is his small way of figuring this all out. Or it’s just information to relay to others. 

Finally, Chris. Chris deserves a lot more credit than he will give himself. He has been a pillar of strength for me. Perfect? No. Days of doubt and exhaustion and insecurities. Sure. But he has done extra. Extra laundry, extra cooking, extra cleaning, extra laughs, extra kid duty, extra hugs, extra confidence boosts, extra emotional load. I could have never imagined how our journey would go but I am thankful for a partner who keeps me laughing, keeps working hard, and keeps me grounded to what matters. 

Parenthood and marriage are the hardest things I have ever done that no one tells you how hard they are (why is that, by the way?). Add a parent with cancer. Selfishly, I did not want my kids to be viewed any differently than the next kiddo. But maybe I shouldn’t have worried because our kids have adapted and managed much better than I could have ever hoped. Dylan and I did have a conversation about her fear of me dying and nothing will start my waterworks faster than thinking about leaving my kids and Chris (It is not lost on me how “lucky” I am in my cancer journey). I used to hold a lot of guilt for how different our life path has gone. Getting a cancer diagnosis was my fault and threw our family system into upheaval. While some of this may still be true, I hope my children can learn about the power of choice, the magic of hope, the strength of perseverance and the complexity of emotions. Parenting and marriage do not get easier, rather the challenges just evolve and I look forward to working through these complexities in the years to come. 

Liz