Not that I'm ruled by my daughter or anything.
This was a week of good news. My father has endured what should be his last chemotherapy treatment, met with his oncologist, and has been told that things look really good. He still has a few weeks of radiation to go, but that's more of a "just-in-case" afterthought than anything else. To say that I'm grateful doesn't even come close.
As I've pondered on this bit of good news, I've remembered something that happened around Christmastime. We were at my parent's home, and in what had become a rare occurrence*, the house was full of grandkids. I think it was the morning of December 26. It was around 10 o'clock in the morning, and the house looked like a tornado hit it. Toys were strewn from wall to wall. Half-empty cereal bowls, partially-drunk cups of milk, and assorted other breakfast remains littered the kitchen bar. The rooms rang with the cacophonous sounds of children-laughing, crying, whining (just a bit), giggling, running, and just being kids in general. Pajamas (belonging to those who were now dressed) and day clothing (belonging to those who still weren't) sat in little piles throughout the rooms.
As I looked around at what two days ago had been my mother's spotless house, I opened my mouth to apologize, and perhaps even offer to help a bit with some clean-up. Oddly enough (and luckily for lazy old me), at just that moment, my mother opened her mouth, and with a tone that rang with satisfaction, she said,
"It FINALLY feels like Christmas here."
The house was waaay messier than this.
In a week or so, Eric, Heather, and I are headed down to the old homestead for some spring break relaxation. My sister and her family will be joining us, and then of course, there's my brother and his family who live down there all the time. As luck would have it, we'll arrive on my mom's birthday (and four days after my dad's birthday). As I've pondered this and tried to think of a gift that she would appreciate, and that would fit into our new-economy-budget, I've realized that anything we get her would probably be superfluous.
Having a healthy husband and a houseful of noisy, messy grandkids again is probably the best present she will have received in years.
Happy Birthday Mom (& Dad).
*Once my father was diagnosed with lymphoma, he was essentially barred from spending very much time in close contact with young children, including his grandchildren (in order to protect his fragile immune system). This was hard for everyone, but, as I found out on this occasion, it was especially hard on my mother.
* * *
10 points for the name of the musical
5 points each for the name of the character who sings this song, and the character he/she sings it to
3 points each for any other bits of information tying this musical and my life together.