Temp

I’ve been working at the firm I am currently in for the last 12 months and two weeks ago I was asked to join another team in my department as
1. My role was ceasing
2. I had really proved myself in these last 12 months and thought I could handle this new job.

Woo hoo!

All very good but it’s still a temp role which is financially crippling but the hours are good and at the end of the day, it’s paying (just) my bills and keeps Jim Jam in biscuits.
I get reviews every 3 months but essentially the job is for a year.

After my wonderful prognosis last week, I was both euphoric and daunted at the same time.

The feeling of euphoria is fast fading.

My life is now basically on a temp contract. I get reviewed every 3 months, but I’m hoping that the contract gets extended to more than a year.

I want to so badly just let myself revel in this joy. I still don’t quite believe the outcome.

I used to be such a dreamer; an eternal optimist. I would see the good In all situations. Even when I was diagnosed with Cancer, I took it as an opportunity to try out a new hair style.

But along with taking my ability to have children, it seems as though cancer has taken some of my spirit too.

I don’t think I’ll ever fully let myself celebrate until perhaps at the magic 5 year mark.

So, I have a new temp job and a new temp life.
Lets hope both bosses like me.

Purple Power

Today I asked for some help.
I asked my army to step up and to give me good vibes, prayers and thoughts.

I then went one step further and asked you all to wear something purple. In my head, seeing all those pictures of people wearing purple just for me, spurred me on.

I sat in a tiny office today and Dr Powell’s Registrar, lets call him Dr Awesomesauce, told me (3 times no less) that the scan showed ‘no cancer activity’. Fuckwit wasn’t seen. It’s disappeared.

They couldn’t confirm that a white flag been left.

The nitty gritty of it all is, and I quote, ‘it’s responded excellently to treatment and no activity is shown on the scan, but we will closely monitor you every 3 months’.
I’ve not stopped crying. Every call I’ve made, every text I sent since finding out I’ve just balled my eyes out.

I think we’re still in shock. I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I keep expecting to wake up.

I walked out into that corridor and I screamed like mad. It just had to get out.

I can’t even begin to thank you all. I don’t know where to start. I looked at my phone today and all I saw was a sea of purple.
You will never know how much I feel loved and supported by every single one of you.
I love you all and thank you, thank you, thank you for your continued support.

Now you can have some home leave soldiers, I’ll expect you back here in 3 months for some more purple power.

I am always looking for more recruits…if you don’t sign up, I’m setting this little one on to you…

6 Months

Exactly 6 months to the day, I was given the worst possible news I ever thought I’d hear.
It turned out to be the start of a such a life changing and heart hurting weekend.

Today, 6 months since I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, I will be having my 3-months post treatment check.
At the weekend we have a family wedding which is something which we are all looking forward to.
I am so desperate to make this weekend a billion times better than that weekend 6 months ago.

Help me out here.
Think of me, of us.
If you have faith in your God, pray for me.
If you have a lucky charm (although not the cereal) give it a nod/wink/rub for me.
Wishing works too.

I love you all for sticking by me these past few months.

Give it all you’ve got now, Army!

National Apple Day

No, not really.

This is an one of those really annoying ‘In-jokes’ between lovey dovey couples. This is our in-joke, one that no one will get and we won’t explain either. And yes, we are still that lovey dovey couple too.

This in-joke has been going on for 9 years.

My lovely man has been my absolute rock for 108 months and for some reason is still willing to do so.

He makes me smile with his ridiculously bad jokes.

He makes me annoyed when he leaves his shoes in the exact place in where I will trip over them.

He makes my heart burst when I catch him and James reading together.

He keeps me in check when I feel like everything is on top of me.

I tell him I love him at least 20 times a day, but it doesn’t seem enough.

I love how he loves us both. We are his world.

I’ve been a right old pain lately, and he’s just put up with it.

In fact he puts up with a lot, but always put a smile on and gets on with it.

He makes me want to keep this in-joke going forever and ever.

My Darling Pete, 

Thank you for living up to your name meaning, and being my rock through possibly the worst time in our relationship. 

Good times are coming, I can feel it. 

Happy Anniversary!

I love you with everything within me,

Forever yours, 

Frannie x

 

You hate us, don’t you?

 

Two.

Dear James,

Two pudgy hands.
Two ‘Foots burgers’.
Two chocolate button eyes.
Two loving parents, in utter awe of you.
One big fat heart full of love for everything in your little world. Especially choc biskit.

We are Superheroes

Today at this very minute (2.16am) you turn 2 years old.
What a topsy-turvy year it’s been (that’s an under statement, I fear)
You have flourished from a tumbling baby, just finding his feet to a running escape artist of a toddler.

You are into everything, you want to try everything. You jump off the side of the swimming pool with no fear; you try all foods and let us know what ones you like; you sing and dance your way into people’s hearts.

But the one thing that’s really excelled is your chatter. You still DO NOT STOP TALKING! But now you actually engage with us and are saying little sentences.
You are the ‘Pease’ and ‘Fankoo’ boy and make sure you say it if you really want something. I couldn’t be more proud of that.
You tell me to be ‘Be saff, Mummy’ when I go to work and you tell me all the people who you’ve seen in the day when we chat at bedtime. You always say ‘Antnee’ even when you don’t see him. You love your Uncle so.

Talking of love, you love so tenderly yet you can physically see how much something means to you. You do a little grimace with your mouth, its like you can’t quite get out how much you love it. Never lose this passion.

Love.

You currently love:
Toy Story
Buzz
Boody (Woody)
One Ection (One Direction)
Uncle Olly (Olly Murs)
DINOSAURS!
Blast Off’s (rockets)
Johnny Burgess (BFF)
Minnie Dog (BFF)
Cuggles
Biskits (especially choc choc ones)

James and Johhny BFF

You are some sort of technology wizz as well. You can operate our phones which I fear will only come from being a child of the digital age. You can put the phone on, locate YouTube and put on Olly Murs quicker than anyone above 2 years old.

Ditto the DVD player.
Ditto the Sky planner.
Ditto Nanny’s washing machine.

I feel your hair should get a special mention, for it’s taken a life of its own this year. Starting off as wisps to full on crazy frizz, with a side of ringlets. It just suits your maniacal style.

But it’s not all praise my gorgeous boy. You obviously realised that tantruming is not exclusive to 2 year olds, and you’ve been perfecting that silent cry and subsequent paddy when I won’t let you jump off the sofa onto Daddy or let you run in the road.
I am obviously a terrible mother aren’t I!

James, you’ve brought so much to so many people. I’ve had people tell me how much they love you and what joy you bring to then, and some of these people, we’ve never even met.

Your pet Ladybird.

A little while ago you told me you was ‘appy, Mummy’.
Please know you make us ‘appy’ everyday.

Stay ‘appy my beautiful boy.

Happy Birthday, James.

Keep growing strong.
All my love,
Mama xxx

Dear Fuckwit

Dear Fuckwit,

So here we are.

Today we are going to see you

Actually, we’re hoping we don’t see you.
In my head, I’m hoping what they find is a little Osama-esque degenerate, fucked off its been found out in his cave but somehow it knows it been caught so just gives up.

Give it up Fuckwit. The search teams are out today.

Don’t mistake these tears I’m shedding or my hand shaking as I write this, as a sign of weakness, for you would be so wrong.
It’s only proving how determined I am to rid you, once and for all.

Never under estimate the quiet ones, for they have the biggest army behind them.

And they are coming to get you.

Dance with Mummy

There is this thing we like to do. We put the iPod on, put it on shuffle and cascade our way through the playlists.
Most songs are skipped because Daddy has just too much Genesis; some songs are only listened to for the nostalgic chorus and some songs, well they just make you want to get up and feel the music or at least to attempt to dance.

‘Mummy, up’
‘Ok, one more time, Mummy’s back hurts because you’re a heavy lump’

I place you on my hip, you wrap your arms around my neck. We’re head to head. I belt out that tune as best as I can. You laugh and you grab my face and do that grimace that shows how much you love something.
I jump around as much as I can with a 28lb child strapped to my waist.
I’m sweating, laughing, trying to breathe; you’re clinging on to me and squinting with joy.

The music changes, I attempt to put you down but you’ll have none of it. So we go through it again and again until I am so red in the face that I’m worried I’ll combust.

Soon, you’ll be too big to dance on my hip, but we’ll dance hand to hand.
After a while, you’ll be too cool to dance with Mummy.

I hope that day never comes.

Mummy is grieving, grieving so strongly for a future that was meant to be very different. I’m most definitely going through the 5 stages.
I’ve been (still) so very sad. I’ve been (still) very angry, I’ve been (always will be) depressed. I’ve been in denial and I’ve bargained with every faith possible.

Acceptance is something that will take a long time to be granted.

So until that time comes, indulge me.

Dance with Mummy, like we’ve never been hurt.