His voice is like buttah. He could sing a song about how much he likes to slowly dismember puppies and kittens with rusty safety scissors and it would still make my heart squishy and my lady parts tingly.
But that’s not what this blog is about.
Last night when I was driving home from the St. Baldrick’s Girls Night Out to Conquer Kids Cancer event, Kenny Chesney’s song, “Don’t Blink,” came on the radio, and I came unglued. I cried the ugly cry, a shirt soaking sob fest as I drove home from the event. I quickly checked in on my sleeping children. My daughter was laughing in her sleep and my son was drooling like a dog. I continued to blubber off and on for a good few hours. I couldn’t stop thinking about the moms who ache to see their child snoozing, breathing, or giggling instead of suffering intense pain or dying.
As you read what I just wrote, a child was diagnosed with cancer.
FUCK YOU CANCER!
If I go strictly by the numbers, The Inaugural GNO event (Girls Night Out for those of you who aren’t as acronym savvy) was a success. We met our fundraising goal and had an overwhelming flood of generous people who donated raffle items. Most people would feel satisfied and maybe even triumphant, but as you know, I’m not most people. I felt exhausted and downhearted. I felt like I hadn’t done enough. My friend, Sheila, (you know her as Mary Tyler Mom) lost her four-year old daughter to cancer, yet she was happy and hopeful, enjoying her GNO with friends.
What was wrong with me?!!???
(this is rhetorical, but if you have concerns about me, you can email me at email@example.com)
Realizing I was too emotional to be rational, I resolved to get some sleep and choose hope by committing myself to continued work with whatever organization needs my big, fat, potty-mouth to make noise for them. I was going to wake up motivated and positive. I would choose hope.
But I woke up hangry, which is hungry + angry, and not a good way to be considering I had to get my kiddos up, fed and off to the tax funded babysitter. After hot, black coffee, a delicious breakfast AND kicking the little bastards out the door, I sat on the sofa to get my hope on, yet the anger remained. That asshole anger had my hope in a headlock and wasn’t letting go.
Two things made me turn my frown upside down and get hopeful. The first thing was this:
Thank you, Wendy Withers for taking time to send me this magnificent link. It was a happy hope injection, kick starting the process of smashing my bitterness into smithereens. I’m no good to anyone when I’m cloaked in negativity and the ending of that video made me pee my pants. Thank GOD I was actually wearing pants, because I tend to find them useless when I'm at home alone during the day, or I'd be sitting on a urine soaked sofa blogging about anger and cancer and how only suckers wear pants.
The second thing that cheered me right up was remembering that Donna’s Cancer Story, is being run by the Huffington Post during September, which is pediatric cancer awareness month. Those of you who are new to MWDAS, here is the link to Sheila’s original 31 blog postings from last year. I won’t be posting them everyday on my page like last year, but I hope you will commit to learning and helping cranky bitches like me to keep choosing hope.
For now, today, this moment, I’m hopeful again. I’m not stewing in anger, but I know it will be back. Grief, anger and fear. I’ll never feel less angry about cancer. And that is okay. I will take my anger and use it to fuel my efforts and help YOU with yours since I know you want to help too.
To find out how to organize your own St. Baldrick’s event (head shaving, “Girls Night Out” or your own idea) contact Heather Kash at Heather@StBaldricks.org. or visit the St. Baldrick's website to find and event near you.
Filed under: WTH Wednesday
Tags: Donna's Cancer Story, Girls night out, Huffington Post Parents, Kenny Chesney, Kenny Chesney Don't Blink, Leah Schilling, Mary Tyler Mom, Moms who drink and swear, Nicole Knepper, pediatric cancer, pediatric cancer research, St. Baldrick's, St. Baldrick's events, Wendy Withers