Toddler talks…What is love?

In what potentially could be a new part of my blog, me and James have lots of insightful conversations mainly surrounding a question either on of us has asked.
Such classics include:

‘But why is it raining? I want bubbles’

And the classic which I’m sure lots of Mummy’s have had to encounter…

‘You has two bottoms. Why? It’s furry!’

So with this in mind, after having a very challenging 20 minutes discussing how much I actually loved him and explaining that I have bigger arms so must love him more, James gave a great explanation to that lovely love question.

Out of the mouth of babes — in case you needed clarification, he says that love makes him feel better.

I appear to have something in my eye *sobs*

Toddler talk…I can’t wait to see what else he has to say.

A forgotten post…

I guess I bottled it when it came to releasing this post, but after talking about it with that bear like husband of mine, we both agreed that it was just the positive kind of post I needed to publish. Here goes…

This time last year…

I looked a bit like this…

I’d just taken receipt of a rather fabulous cape to help me on my quest to rid my body of fuckwit.
I had loads of make up under my eyes to hide the tiredness that radiotherapy was producing. I’d started to lose my hair from chemotherapy and my eye lashes were falling out.

Flash forward to one year later…

Although I need assistance from several types of spanx (damn you oestrogen you fat finder) and help from some false eye lashes, this is the new, improved, fuckwit free Frannie all ready for her Christmas party.

Vain yes, but also necessary.
In my darkest days I never thought I’d get to where I am now on a physical scale. I have a long way to go to actually start loving my body (if indeed that’ll ever happen) but I can start being kinder to myself.

Baby steps. The only way I can in those heels.

…And Many More…

This is pretty much my life right now….

Tea? Check. Mac? Check. Cape? Check

The lovely @luckylauraQ asked me:

I didn’t know you pre-fuckwit, but I wondered how it changed your body image? Do you see your body as having a different function now & do you feel differently towards it?

Good question Laura. I shall answer it through my birthday letter to me…

Dear Frannie,

Today you turn 29. At 21.05 tonight, you will officially be in your last year of your twenties.

When you look back on what you wanted to accomplish by this age you’ve done pretty much everything you set out. You wanted to be married to a lovely man, you wanted a baby, you wanted to be successful in your career.

Two out of three aint bad…you’re working on the last one now.

6 months ago, this date was filling you with dread. You were in a job that just about paid the bills, with an apprehension over you about some health concerns, the last thing you wanted to think about was your birthday and *gulp* getting older.

But 3 small months ago you were delivered news that at that moment in time questioned whether you would even reach your 30th birthday.

Sudden that little number didn’t seem so scary.

It actually became a goal to reach.

All your life you have tormented yourself about your body.
You’ve ranged from size 6 as a teenager to at your biggest, a size 14.
You are now a comfortable size 12.

I can’t believe it took being told you had Cancer to make you realise that actually, your body is awesome. It defied odds and carried a baby to term, it dealt with horrendous pain and turmoil every month.

And now?

Well now, its beating Cancer. It’s taking control over something which is imposing. The stupid fuckwit.
You lost 22 pounds in a very short time and admitedly, you wouldn’t wanted to have lost it in this way, but it’s given you the boost you needed to accept the new shape you have.

Proud of the pooch

You have a little tummy pooch, which will probably always be there.
A reminder of the trauma it went through to make sure you see your 30th birthday, but more importantly the roundness to prove you did in fact carry a baby.
If the toddler playing on your Mac wasn’t enough proof already…

Mama? Issa mac, yea?

But I am proud of you. You have given up your hang ups with your body.
As your blog proves, you are not ashamed to explore your body and the problems you have had. Being more aware of your body made you realise there was a problem in the first place.

Well done for listening to it.

Today you turned 29. You’ve got a few more wrinkles round the eyes. You have a constant ringing in your ears from the chemo nerve damage and your left hand still gets pins and needles from the sheer volume of canulas and needle pricks.

But you’d take it all again if it meant you got to see your 30th birthday.

I hope you can see all the love out there for you. People from all around the world have been reading your blog, spurring you on, keeping an eye on you.

Remember this in the times when it gets hard to bear.
You might not have any more children, you will go through the menopause and you might have a few more stumbling blocks to go through with your cancer journey, but there is someone out there, who is rooting for you.
And it’s not just the lovely Man on the sofa with you.

Today you turned 29. You have realised that you are an individual person, with your own opinions and views and you are now not afraid to express them.
You are sharing your writing, which is in itself a massive V-flick to Cancer.
Cancer likes the quiet and dark. You are bringing it out of its comfort zone showing it up for the coward it is.

Cancer is the coward. Not you.

Today you turned 29. Next year you will be 30. Lets show everyone how many more birthday’s you are going to celebrate.

Happy Birthday Frannie. And I wish you many, many more.

Never stop laughing like this. Ever.

Memories are made of this…

James was in his Bumbo grabbing his Giraffe called Gerry and twisting his feet around.

I’m sitting on the floor in front of James wiping a dribble from his chin.

Pete is sitting on the ottoman behind us both.

The TV is off and the iPod is on. We are trying to induct James to our love of music.

Its eclectic and passionate in both positive and negative ways.

The wind is howling outside but there is brilliant sunshine.

The smell of the baby powder Yankee tart burning is overpowering the lounge.

Volare starts to play. Pete begins to sing in his best Dean Martin accent.

Volare, Oh oh 

James starts laughing, I try to get in on the action.

Cantare, oh, oh, oh, oh

More laughter from James, from the belly this time.

His chubby little hands always go to his mouth when he laughs, his eyes showing most of the expression of joy.

More and more attempted singing.

More laughing.

And then it happens.

A moment so perfect, I have a perfect image in my head forever.

Its a moment I can barely describe except, this is what happiness is.

It was such a simple little memory, nothing significant happened, except how much I fell in love with my boys all over again.

A Mum and Dad and Son all exceptionally happy. And it started with a song.

I hope James wants music in his life.

Just so we can have lots of moments like this.

No wonder my happy heart sings,

Your love has given me wings