There are certain things that seem to have disappeared during this cancer journey, the most alarming of which is my inability to filter my words before I speak. I think it, therefore I say it. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s not.
Saul must have the same problem, because he is constantly cracking jokes about catching my breast cancer. He’s lucky he has good comedic timing.
The boys (ages 9 & 5) had to pack their own clothes and toiletries for our trip to Myrtle Beach. Since I am the mom, I know things, like… my boys will forget their toothbrushes ON PURPOSE so they don’t have to brush their teeth for the entire vacation.
Since I am the mom, I am always one step ahead of them. It’s my job. So I grabbed two spare toothbrushes and threw them into my suitcase. This morning, just when they thought they were in the clear, I sprung them on them.
Both boys gave me a “Drat, she caught us” look as they grabbed their toothbrushes and headed off to the bathroom. All of a sudden I hear the boys yell, “Mom! Where’s our toothpaste?” They like the bubblegum flavored kids stuff.
“I wasn’t responsible for packing your toothpaste. You were.” I shouted back. “Just use mine.”
This threw the smaller child into a complete fit. “It’s too minty! It’s gonna hurt! It’s gonna hurt!” Not at all apologetically, I said, “I’m sorry. Maybe next time you’ll remember to pack your own, but today you have to use mine.”
He stood there and screamed bloody murder for the entire 14 seconds that I brushed his teeth. Tears were rolling down his face and he almost sounded like he was about to hyperventilate. I pulled the toothbrush from his mouth and said, “Get over it. I just had a breast cut off and I didn’t cry that much.”
My husband, who was standing in the other room, walked into the bathroom with a smirk on his face, looked at Ben and said, “She has a point.”
I’m guessing tomorrow’s brushing will be much smoother… and that next time, Ben will do a better job packing his own bag.
