EC Stilson's

I want to be the “cool” mom, and apparently—with Halloween barely in the rear view mirror—my youngest kids think that awesome moms watch scary shows and are a little “edgy.”
“I can be edgy!” I told my teenage boy.
“Ummm…no,” he said. “You can’t. Even Abby is edgier than you.” Side note: The kids think Abby—our dog—is God’s gift to humanity. She gets credit for everything. I can make brownies, and she somehow gets thanked for it. I’ll do laundry—and she gets praised...

 I put this picture on the wall, but I keep painting over it—‘cause it’s not quite right. Anyway, I didn’t realize my kids watched all of the changes until Ruby said something today: � “Oh, she changed again!”
Then Sky said, “Does she have a different face?!”...

 “I give you two years to live.”
Time shifted, moving like molasses, and a darkness threatened to overtake me right there in the d*mn hospital room.
No one else heard the news with me because COVID limited visiting hours. Nope, I needed to be strong and digest this alone....

 “It’s like watching Thumper—or some woodland creature—get cancer. I just feel so bad, and I don’t know what to do for you. No one wants to see a cute, innocent bunny with cancer.” My friend literally said this to me earlier this week, and I am flummoxed...