The Kids: Part 2- Xander

Middle school is a weird time.

No one would deny this. We all remember middle school as some of our roughest days. I wonder why that is? I have enjoyed watching Xander transition beautifully into middle school from elementary. It was probably harder on me than it was on him.

You see, what I have learned about this strange breed of people (middle schoolers) is that they are weird.

No, you don't understand. They try to out-weird each other.

Let me give you an example from our own child's experience. When The Boy entered 6th grade, he didn't really care that people knew his name (anonymity is actually preferred). But he decorated his mammoth binder (mandatory school supply to house all his homework and be carried on one's person at all times) with a sign that said, "I Like Pie" in huge black letters, with a clip art picture of a piece of pie. For most of the school year, most of the kids just referred to him as "The Pie Guy."

You see? It's not really funny. It's just kind of weird.

This week, when Xander filled out his March Madness brackets (a family ritual- the winner gets to pick what restaurant we go out to), he didn't write his name at the top. He wrote "Bill Halvorson." Apparently, last year at camp he convinced an entire busload of kids that that was his real name, and so he's sticking with it.

... What?

Now, when we left Indiana, and a humungous chunk of friends behind, Xander was 5 and he looked like this:

Aw! What a little cutie!

He is now taller than me, and at age 13, looks like this:

Good grief! What happened?!

His voice is lower than his dad's and all rich and radio announcer-y.

And as I stated in my last entry, he's über smart, and generally a fun, quirky kid. 

Oh, and he'll kill me when he finds out this much information is out there on the interwebz about him. He's kind of private- so don't tell him I love him. It embarrasses him. 

Anyway, back to Wednesday- Diagnosis Day. Xander had Lego League after school (I don't have time to explain how awesome FLL is, so look it up here if you're interested), so he didn't get home from that until about supper time. It was not fair how we hit him with the news. Maia was anxious to tell him, and we didn't let her, so I just blurted it out over a bowl of soup, "Hey, guess what. Mom has cancer!" (Thumbs up, cheesy smile). 

OK, in retrospect, maybe not the best way to announce this type of news to anyone at the emotionally vulnerable age of 13...

We tried to explain as much as we could- I had mentioned that I had found a lump in my breast to the kids (again at the dinner table- what is wrong with me?!) a couple of weeks earlier, so the news wasn't completely out of the blue, but he had to have been twice as shocked as Matt & I were when we first heard the news. 

But then it was time to rush off to youth group. Matt had emailed the church staff (his co-workers) earlier in the day, to let him know what was going on, and I'm sure those awesome youth people took great care of him that evening.

We didn't really tell everybody until I published the first entry on this blog late Thursday night, so I don't think Xander mentioned it to anyone at school the next day. 

Matt had a chance to talk to him Thursday after school, and said, "We really blindsided you with the big announcement yesterday. How are you feeling?"

"Scared."

Matt said, "So are we. Do you have any questions?" 

Xander said, "Can you guarantee me that she's going to survive this?" 

Matt said, "No, I can't guarantee that."

Xander said, "Well, can you give me a percentage?" (anyone who has ever known him will recognize this as a very Xander question)

Matt said, "You're asking great questions and you're asking the same questions that we have, and we just don't have the answers yet. BUT, all of the early indicators are favorable, and breast cancer is very treatable."

I wish we could guarantee survival. But the chances are pretty good. I guess I can't guarantee that I won't die in a car accident tomorrow either. We really have to trust in the Lord on this one. Life is precious. 

So, on Friday, I started getting all these wonderful emails, phone calls, Facebook messages, and texts from people in all my social circles, crying with me, encouraging me, cheering me on, sympathizing and in general just letting me know how very very loved I am by so many people.  

What an encouraging day!

When I picked up Xander from school on Friday, I asked how his day was. Turns out, his was not as awesome. He finally told someone in his class that his mom has cancer, and do you know how his dumb-ass classmates responded? 

"Yo mama" jokes. 

Yes, you read that right. Instead of rallying around a hurting friend, they found an open wound and poked it with a stick. 

Now, if I had been there, I would have laughed and thrown a few jokes right back at them. I did tell him, "You know what? Yo mama is tough enough to handle it." Unfortunately, he isn't yet. He just wasn't really in a place emotionally to be able to fight fire with fire. 

I still get red in the face with anger when I think about this. I emailed his teachers... All of this is SO embarrassing for a 7th grader! The last thing they want is for Mommy to come swooping in (or even show signs of existence) while at school. 

Granted, this may have only been 2 or 3 kids. I know that there were others who were much kinder to him, but when you are 13, the negative really has a way of sticking to you.

I don't know how to fix this. So far, this is the one thing I am the most angry about in this whole journey. 

On the plus side, as I walked past him playing video games this weekend, I nudged him with my foot and said, "Hey. I love you." He grunted as usual.

"Ahem! I said, I love you!" 

He pushed pause, looked me in the eye, smiled and said, "I love you too."  

Aw... he'll always be my little boy!