Burned By My Babies

I’ve been getting a lot of grief – intentional and unintentional – from my kids lately.

The latest run started about a couple weeks ago when I was dropping my kindergartner off at school. I’m new here to Canada, so even though the sun was shining and it’s a balmy 18 degrees (Celsius), I’m usually wearing a couple of long sleeve layers.

I decided to be brave this time and shed my comfort clothes. All the way down to a tank top. To which my four year old exclaimed, “Wow Mom! You have big muscles!”

Which is pretty cool.

Then she added, “You look just like daddy.”

Not quite so cool.

Not the look I’m going for, Fifi.

The next one I remember was in the car. I have an older model BMW – which I honestly wish someone would steal so my hubby would buy me a new one. Like me, the car is a bit grumpy and has a few quirks. The old grey mare just ain’t what she used to be, if you know what I mean.

I was holding the visor up because the stupid screws holding the visor smack up against the ceiling had popped out while I was driving the kids. My 10 year old couldn’t believe I wasn’t able to just screw the screws right back in while driving. I told him I wasn’t that skilled. Fifi the feisty four-year-old wanted to make me feel better since I can’t really accomplish much of anything. So she told me, “But mommy, you are good at putting batteries in things.”

Well, thanks Fifi. I’m so glad my mad skills have not gone unnoticed.

The most recent one lately happened as my kids were getting ready for the Terry Fox Run during the Terry Fox National School Run Day here in Canada. Terry Fox was an amazing athlete who lost a leg to cancer but decided to begin something called a Marathon of Hope in 1980 to raise money for cancer research. The man ran an entire marathon every single day, running across Canada. He only stopped when his cancer spread to his lungs and he couldn’t go anymore.

Gosh, I think about this and how hard it is for me to motivate myself to even work out for 30 minutes every day and I feel very ashamed.

Anyway, the Foundation that puts on this run has so much cool teaching stuff – my kids learned so much about humanitarianism, science and research and diseases like cancer.

We had to color pictures of flowers to place in a ‘Garden of Hope’ on the school wall as one of the activities. I was helping Fifi write the names of people she knows who have been touched by cancer. We wrote Grandma Richardson’s name. Grandpa Richardson’s name, and Uncle Thad. I talked to them about my brave friend Susie. I thought of my friend from work, Ben Brown, who lost his battle.

It was touching to see the kids make the connection between this esoteric man they never knew and people they love – having the same kind of disease.

So Fifi asks who else had cancer. I say me.

The 10 year old pipes up – “Yours doesn’t count, it was just head cancer!”

Well, true. It wasn’t breast or colon or liver or gall bladder cancer. Mine was the wanna be cancer – skin cancer.

I hope I always seem so invincible to them.

I’m off to find my cape and put more batteries in things.