Holy crap, I haven’t posted in almost a month! Yeesh. Well, moving will do that to a blogger, I suppose.
The past few weeks have been a frenzy of packing up, moving out, moving in, cleaning, unpacking, dodging painters, installing things and logging miles between various big box stores. I’m a fan of shopping local and all that, but man, Target and Home Depot sure come in handy when you need, for example, 3 towel bars, 2 toilet brushes, curtains for the master bedroom, Contact paper, four 30″ cellular blinds — wait, no, make one of those a 29″, because for some inexplicable reason one of the windows in the room is one inch shorter than the rest — and non-aerosol insect repellent, because the girls need to bring it to Girl Scout day camp with them. Oh, and toilet paper. And make sure two of the towel bars are brushed chrome, not the regular shiny kind! Why? I just like them better. No, I don’t know why they’re three dollars more. Just get them.
So, life has been pretty chaotic and exhausting, and there’s still tons (tons!) of unpacking and arranging left to do. But it’s starting to come together and feel more like home. I’ve now cooked three actual dinners in the kitchen — as in, dinners that involve more than just warming something up in the microwave.
One of the biggest changes in our living situation — besides the fact that now, when the windows are open, I can hear wind rustling through trees instead of people cursing at each other — is that the girls now have their own rooms. They’re both pretty happy with this, especially Clio. (I think Elsa is of two minds; she likes it, but also feels a little lonely at night.)
But it hasn’t been a screaming/whining/fighting-free transition. Before, the girls’ clothes were all together in one (increasingly crowded) dresser and one closet. Their books and dolls were commingled. And there were no “keep out” signs on the door. (Intended for sisters, not parents.) But hopefully things will improve as they get used to the new arrangement.
In all this transitioning, I’ve barely had a moment to stop and think about the momentous fact that Clio’s last round of treatment starts on Wednesday. Not brooding is good. But now that the dust is settled a little bit, I’m forced to confront it — and feel like I should. And really, it’s hard to digest. How can it be that after this cycle we’ll never (knock on wood) have to deal with steroids again? We’ll never have to load up on drugs at the Dana Farber pharmacy on our way home from the clinic? I’ll never have to slip a syringe of 6-MP between Clio’s lips while she sleeps? And after she gets her port out in a few weeks, no more Lovenox shots in her thigh before bedtime. Read the rest of this entry »