I plopped indelicately....my irritation puffing in a small cloud—then settling back down around me. I told myself I was “regrouping” but truthfully...I was just letting in all the prickly feelings. It wasn’t anything. Really. A day that wasn’t well planned, toys all over the place, no one liked dinner. Again.... I defaulted to the mindless scroll of Facebook before slugging through the bedtime routine (and those inevitable complaints).
But there’s danger relying on Facebook
"My Mommy doesn't have cancer." We were two-thirds into our Inheritance of Hope Kendra Scott Legacy Retreat. This retreat was exclusively for families with children who have a parent with metastatic breast cancer. Each morning we were divided into small groups, the kids by age. In front of London and Quinn were a couple eggs and a Sharpie, and they got to write anything they felt "sick of." And for all of the kids in the room, their eggs read Cancer. All of them except mine.