Double digits

I need a weekend to recover from my weekend.

Yesterday, my beautiful daughter entered the double digits by turning 10 years old. It's hard to believe it's been a decade since the rigamarole of her birth. It involved pitocin, not progressing past five centimetres, a late night c-section and Tara's crying arrival at five seconds to midnight.

To celebrate her birthday, my little monkey had seven friends over for a swimming/sleepover party. Pizza, chips, decorate-your-own cupcakes and pop rounded out the celebration. To prepare, we cleaned and shopped Friday night and Saturday.

During the festivities, Michael and I chauffered, cooked and chaperoned. For the most part, 10-year-old girls are loud but can amuse themselves. I firmly, but groggily, told them it was time to go to sleep at 2 a.m. (Oh yeah, I'd been asleep before then and was awakened by screams and doors banging when they were trying to scare each other.) They didn't end up sleeping until about 4 a.m. but I used my best firm-mom voice.

The exodus of the girls involved another round of cleaning up before the family came to celebrate with a BBQ and cake yesterday afternoon.

Whew! I'm exhausted. I'm full of gas, which contributes to my bloating unwell feelings. My port site is sore (from all the activity)? I need another weekend where I can just rest and relax. Luckily, I have another week of work and then I'm off for 11 days. And of course, I head to Hamilton tomorrow to learn about the direction of my treatment.

Time to turn the focus from Tara to my medical situation (then to enjoying time together as a family). I need to take it one situation at a time.

Tina