Eleven weeks later

I'm feeling very reflective this morning, thinking about how I felt when I started writing this blog, and why I started writing it. It was just three weeks after my second operation, I was so cross and upset and disappointed, I was frustrated and so very angry. So I poured it into my blog, all the things that I wanted to do and couldn't and moaned about having to do them with Cyril, instead of being stoma free which was the whole point of putting myself through the first operation. In truth I felt thoroughly sorry for myself, but probably had every right to, it was a tough few weeks for everyone around me. Now look at me, back at Uni, moaning about my lectures, volunteering at Summerhill and loving every minute of it. Plus the boys at school and all the ups and downs of that, with trips to the woods and Malarky thrown in for good measure. My blog is no longer about my struggle to recover from having two major operations a week apart, it's simply about a woman, trying to get a degree whilst living in a mad house. The reason I'm saying all this is because if I'm honest that's who I was in 2008, before all this happened, the original operation and the cancer, I was a woman trying to get a degree whilst living in a mad house. It's one of the most positive realisations I've had in a long while. It doesn't mean the cancer stuff isn't there, it kind of trundles along behind me occasionally poking it's nose into my life with scans and consultant appointments, but it's not in front of me all the time taking over my life, I control that. 

Anyway Neil managed to get himself in the dog house with me yesterday, I'll grant after all the fall out the night before this wasn't a hard task to complete. He went to the Doctors yesterday, it was to see the nurse at some kind of Well Man clinic, he was having some tests and the results of his blood test from the other week. All to say whether he was at risk from major things like heart attacks, diabetes and whether his cholesterol levels were normal and other health related things. Now he is carrying a little too much weight, and there is diabetes in his family so I was quite concerned that everything was going to be OK. But I had to go to Malarky and take Ned to the woods yesterday after school so I wasn't in when he got back from the Doctors. He could have rung me to let me know how it all went, but I didn't get a call, so I got more concerned and rang home from the woods, the house phone was engaged and so I got Xander on his mobile only to find out that Neil was home and well and on the phone to his Mother. Well I'm afraid that was enough, I personally think he should have rung me to let me know that everything went OK, instead of ringing his mother first, but what do I know I've only been married to him for nearly 22 years I still have a lot to learn. I should have been glad that apart from needing to lose a little weight the nurse said everything else was fine, but instead I was cross and sent him to the dog house. Cranky woman, I know!

Then there was Xander, now he managed to not eat his lunch, something about being too busy at lunchtime playing, well I guess that happens (I'm telling you this to lay the ground work). So you have to understand Neil logic, this is a man who used to put sweetener in his tea so he could be allowed a chocolate biscuit with it. So after he found out everything was OK yesterday he suggested we had a take away (Indian) to celebrate, I know he needs to lose a little weight but he can do that next week, it was more important that his other tests were OK. Anyway so he orders an Indian and leaves to pick it up just as I get back from the woods, taking Will with him. So at this point there is now just Xander and me in the house. Now I cannot tell you how fast this blew up, but one minute Xander was laying the table, (Neil had put chips and chicken things in the oven for the boys) the next he was yelling in my face that he didn't care, I very nearly slapped him but kept my cool and sent him to the bottom of the stairs. It was the punishment step from years ago when he was little but I just went on instinct not logic and that's where I sent him. After 5 minutes he stomped off upstairs and shouted that he wasn't going to eat at all, I'm actually impressed he went and sat on the step. Only in my house can total peace explode into shouting so quickly for no real reason. He was really angry that we were having Indian food and he wasn't, basically behaving like a spoiled brat. I now need to refer you to the first sentence in the paragraph and remind you that Xander likes his food, and is very rarely known to miss a meal, and certainly couldn't do 2 in one day. We had decided to just ignore him and sat at the table talking about nothing and eating our meals, when he kind of slunk in. He slid onto his chair without looking at anybody, muttered a vaguely acceptable apology to me and dived onto his food like he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast (because he hadn't). Bless him. 

This morning I am starting the day in peace, Neil is at work and the boys are still in bed. I am going to have my breakfast and cup of coffee (maybe 2) and chill out before I even attempt to engage the enemy, sorry boys, this morning. Having fallen out with all three of them in the past 2 days I'm thinking that minimal contact is probably the best option.