Ronan. If I don’t write to you tonight, my head might explode. Today was one of those days when I cannot fall asleep because my head is spinning. There is so much going on here that I can’t even see straight.
What have I been doing? Running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
September is right around the corner, and we have so much going on and coming up that I don’t even know where to start. So I’m going to start somewhere completely random.
Your brothers started school last week. Did I already tell you that in an earlier post? I can’t remember. They started fourth grade. I can’t even believe that, as the time has gone by so fast with those two.
Of course, on their first day of school, I dropped them off and sat in my car watching them walk into school together. My heart broke into thousands of pieces not getting to watch you walk into school with them.
Would it have been kindergarten or first grade for you? I’m not sure because of your almost-summer birthday. If you had survived cancer, I’ll bet we would have waited to start you in kindergarten until this year so you would have been on the older side. I never thought I would be begging for the side effects of treatment from your cancer, but I would have given anything for those problems instead of having you just dead.
Just as I was sitting there watching your brothers, I saw an old mom friend of mine walking her little boy into school. An old ghost mommy friend, as I like to call them, because at one time they existed. Or did they? Sometimes I think they may have been just a figment of my imagination.
Crap. I know that lady, I thought to myself as I watched her walk her new kindergartener into school. But I couldn’t place how I knew her. Did I know her from my time with Liam and Quinn when they were at preschool, or did I know her from when you were there? Was she a Liam-and-Quinn kind of mommy friend or a Ronan kind of mommy friend? A ghost from my preschool mommy past who went away after you got sick and died and never looked back? Or did I only know her during my blissfully happy days when I lived in happy land and childhood cancer did not exist?
I run into those ghosts of my mommy past sometimes. Some days I run screaming the other way. Some days I smile and pretend like everything is okay or like my feelings aren’t hurt at all for the friendships I thought I had but that turned out not to be as true as I once believed.
At the end of the day, I’m okay with it all though. The Fernandas, Stacys, Macys, and Mandys make everything more than okay in that department. I know the ones who stuck and fought for me and you — well, I am so beyond lucky to have them. They rock my world every single day.
This week has been the kind of week where I am saying yes to everything that is thrown my way.
Yes to Gold Weekend in September.
Yes to the SpiritHoods founder wanting to come out here to meet us and film a documentary next week.
Yes to helping Jim Fry drum up some press for his crazy, kick-ass bike ride through the Pyrenees.
Yes to the interview where I will be featured once again in Phoenix Magazine’s Movers and Shakers of the Valley.
Yes to Liam and Quinn — I am super mom and can take on the world while helping you with your massive amounts of homework and whatever else you need.
Yes to everything Poppy, of course.
Yes to running on my very bummed-out, hurt knee that I obviously did something to over the summer but am choosing to ignore because, as I told Woody tonight, “If Ronan can go through cancer treatments, I can run on a fucking hurt knee.”
Yes to everything while still making time to write this book, which leaves me with little time to sleep or eat, for that matter.
I can’t sleep, and the whole eating thing is just getting in the way of what I’m doing, so I’ve decided to take a break from that as well. I work best on fumes anyway. Will I crack? Will I break? Will I have a massive meltdown? I really hope not until at least after September. I’ve got too much to do right now.
I’m also a little sad this week for reasons beyond just your death.
Remember that crazy-ass stalker, Mandy Bee, who swooped into my life like a Tasmanian devil? Who never claimed to be anything but a crazy stalker who just wanted to be my friend and who did things like drop off candy and leg warmers at my front door until I could no longer say no to becoming friends with her? What can I say? She learned my weaknesses early on. Candy and leg warmers? I didn’t stand a chance.
So I let her into my life — sometimes just a little and sometimes a lot. Sometimes I felt overwhelmed with the amount of love she wanted to shower me with, so I would pull back a little. I often didn’t feel like I was worthy of the love she wanted to give me.
Well, that crazy-ass bitch moved right down the street, and just when I was starting to become as obsessed with her as she is with me, she pulled the rug out from under me and is moving back to Canada. What the hell, Ronan? That is not being a very good stalker, if you ask me.
Mandy has become my sidekick, my partner in crime, and I’ve gotten really used to having her around. I am kind of heartbroken. I was texting Stacy about Mandy moving back to Canada the other night. She said to me, “You know, all Mandy ever wanted from you was your friendship. Nothing else.” I know this. It was never a friendship built on “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.” It was always, “I’m going to scratch your back even if you don’t let me.”
Mandy never had an ulterior motive. The day I met her, she announced she was fucking crazy and never pretended to be anything but that. I’ve gotten quite used to that crazy, and I love it.
So yes, I’m more than a little sad about it. But once you are sisters in this world, you are sisters for life. I know she won’t ever be too far away, and she will be back here often, which will help soften the blow just a little. I’m still super sad about it though. The whole situation just sucks balls.
Poppy, Poppy, Poppy.
Somebody today asked me if we had started “Mommy and Baby” classes yet. I looked dumbfounded and said, “Uhhhh, no. Unless you count taking her to every single foundation meeting with me as mommy-and-baby time.”
Crap. Aren’t I supposed to be starting music classes with her or something like that to get her “socialized”? I’m sure that’s what I was up to when I had you, Liam, and Quinn at this age. Maybe four months is a little early. Maybe six months is when that starts. Whatever.
We do take music classes every day, and they are called “Taylor Swift Is Rad.” We sing and dance to her songs, and Poppy likes it best when I lull her to sleep with them. Those classes with just the two of us are better than anything I could ever pay for.
Alright, little man. That’s all for tonight. I’ve got to try to turn my brain off.
I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.
G’nite, baby boy.
xoxo
Leave a Reply