Knowledge is Power

Today was a good day.

I just got back from a business trip. Literally, an entire day in an airplane. An entire day working. An entire day in an airplane. But I'm home. I was exhausted, cranky and stressed when I got in last night, but a nice spinach salad with asparagus and tuna set me straight. Unpacked and started to pack again (leaving tomorrow morning for another few days out of town, but luckily, I can take the train there!)  Hubby was out cold by the time I came to the bedroom. I took a melatonin and continued reading one of my daughter's books - she gave me "homework", to read a series she has really enjoyed. I can't lie - after I got through the muck of the beginning, I'm getting into Warriors (it's about cat gangs, not the old 70's movie!!!)

Today, we had our favorite photographer over and did a shoot. I haven't even thought about this, and judging my caloric intake yesterday (about 10,000), I wasn't worried. But there we were. I did my hair and makeup, and held my breath, wondering what these unusual images of me would turn out to be. I felt more relaxed as I took pictures with my man, but he also made me cry several times. Luckily, my eyelash glue is rock solid. In fact, 8 hours later, I'm still wearing my falsies. Eyelashes, that is.

It's a funny thing, saying goodbye to a body part you take for granted once you realize it's not going to become exactly what you want. It served a purpose, a very good one - feeding my daughter as a baby. 9 months of quality nourishment. Sweet.  But now, I'm gonna miss the little bugger. As flawed as it is. Stretch marks (oh crap, those might stay, right?) and all. But, that's the way the implant bounces.

My daughter came back for the night - and we all went to dinner. Paella, octopus, red wine (not for her!), and after, we walked to our favorite bakery. On the way, my husband explained to her that I have to have surgery. She looked sad but took her cues from us - it's not a problem, just a little nuisance. I'm glad he talked because I surely would have broken down. But I did tell her that she gives me strength - and after her 3 surgeries, she was so strong. I would try and be strong like her.

We talked about how I won't be able to hug for a while, so she gave me lots. On the sidewalk. It was nice. But it's also amazing how children take their cues from us. I'm trying to not cry now as I type, as she is doing her homework (that her dad "couldn't find" again... grrrr!)  I would rather be watching a movie with her or something, but it is what it is.  I want her success, and I am leading by example. Which means I have to pack. We're dropping her at her dad's in the morning on the way to the train station. Both of us have trains leaving at similar times tomorrow - so I get hugs galore before hopping on!  For a very long 2+ days. I have to say, diving into so much work has really helped my head. If I hadn't been so busy doing what I love, I might have needed some very strong drugs to keep myself from freaking out. Luckily, I'm being propelled by art.

Spent way too much time doing that homework that was not done, and she couldn't complete it all. I can't lie, I got snappy with her. She wants to do it at her dad's, which means, as history will tell us, it will never get done. But I can't, at 10:40 pm, insist that an 11 year old stay up to finish her homework. I need to pack and practice still. Geez.  I wrote my ex a very comprehensive list of all that needed to be done, cc'd my husband and her grandma on it. And am going to keep my fingers crossed that her dad is not a complete ass hole and doesn't want his daughter to fail like he has all of his life. Yes, I'm angry. I can't trust that she will do her work at his house. I mean, seriously.

Being a parent is more than having sex one time and getting knocked up. Being a parent is about shaping your child's future, being there for them, guiding them on a path that will allow them to find success, however they define it. It's NOT letting your kid fail every class and then whine that you don't know how to do 6th grade math at 51 years old, or that you "didn't know they had homework". Shit. Be a fucking grownup. I'm positive that doesn't help with my cancer, and it certainly will not help recovery. Constant worry that she's not doing her work because she's spending time with that ass. I'm probably going to insist that no matter how shitty I feel after surgery, she will stay with us. I will not let her fail. I will not let her be like her worthless father. She deserves everything but what he offers, which is basically a black hole. And me on pain medication will be more help with homework than her dad. Yes, even strong meds. I could be asleep and more helpful than he is.

She deserves a happy life. And it is my mission to ensure that she find the path.