One person in particular is Karen. Proof? She was at my entire wedding being helpful and sober and not insulting the photographer. I was at her wedding and can not say any of the above. Karen is the friend I phoned when I didn't really know how to wash a floor in grade 12. She lets me pretend that I am helping her when she recovers my dining room chairs and an ottoman. She married the kind of guy that everyone likes which was perfect since she is the kind of gal everyone likes. She hosts dinner parties and drinks wine and she even scrapbooks and I just plain like her.
In June, we got an email from Ross. An "oh shit" email. Within a few days of the first oh shit email came the holy fuck email that said that their youngest son Josh had cancer. Every few weeks, we get new emails with new updates on how Josh is doing. He's had 6 rounds of chemo and just last week had surgery to remove the tumor in his belly. This photo was taken a couple of days after surgery, when the Canucks visited Children's Hospital. That's Matt Cook and maybe Sami Salo behind him. Josh was hoping for bigger names maybe?
But being brave while her beloved son fights cancer isn't why Karen rocks. Although she and Ross are really brave.
Karen rocks because she takes such good care of me. Admit it, you saw this coming. You know that these things are always about me.
This last weekend, something went awry with my sweet daughter. She of the long, night sleeping was suddenly no longer of the long night sleeps. She was waking up at midnight and at 2 and at 4 or maybe at 6. She was waking up and staying awake. For hours. It was not brining out the best in me. Our low point hit on Friday night (I think - they all blur together). Scott was working. Talia woke for the third time sometime before 5. She ate. She did not fall back asleep. She cried instead. I left her in her crib and she cried harder. I leaned over her crib and patted her and tried to lull her back to sleep. I hissed ugly curse words and told her she was ruining my life. Still she cried. Finally, I yanked her from her crib and walked her back to my room, whispering in her ear, "Mummy is so angry she could spit. Mummy wants you to shut up. JUST SHUT UP." I threw her in my bed. Literally. Forty-five minutes later, Talia was still crying and I did the thing you absolutely can not do if you don't want to raise a criminal - I gave her the boob to shut her up. I wept and wept and she ate and ate and finally fell asleep for another hour. These are not the glowing mothering moments found in Chicken Soup for the Fugitive's Soul.
I don't remember who called whom. I just know mid-morning on Saturday, I was choking out my tale of woe to sweet Karen. I just know that Karen is a person I can tell the truth to. I know that she knows the lows of parenting but also knows the highs. I know she's probably got a story that will meet or beat my own and I know for sure that she'll see the good even in the bad.
Indeed, she spoke words of comfort. She assured me I probably hadn't harmed Talia. She didn't say so but she implied that Talia probably wouldn't turn to a life of crime because of my breastfeeding cave in. She told me how she and Ross handled their own babies. And she told me it was hard. So hard.
And then she called me the next day. Just to see how the next night had gone. Talia had only woken up once and had been lovely all day. Karen rejoiced with me and then hung up to make French Toast with Alex.
That's why she rocks. It is an amazing gift to have your own life be hard and still make room for the lives around you to be hard too. To still be able to give grace and hope to those around you when you might be tempted to keep what grace and hope you have to yourself. She is the woman who had only 10 pennies left but still gave some away because she believed herself to be blessed.
That's why Karen rocks.
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