Yes, I fed the dog.

My bath-towel is not communal.
My sweatshirt is not a Kleenex.
My purse is not a candy machine or an ATM.
My new perfume is half empty.
My toothbrush smells funny.
By the time everyone is settled at the table, my dinner is cold.
First to wake, last to sleep.
I've caught throw-up in my bare hand.
I comb hair, wipe butts, scrub feet, scramble eggs endlessly.
I kiss owies all better.
I know where your wallet is, your glasses, your back pack, shoes, sippy cup, and most favorite polka dot headband in the whole wide world.
I'm squishy. My feet hurt. I trim my own hair.
I'm the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Santa Clause, and party planner.
I am comfortably settled in this little niche in a great big world.
Never imagined.
Never expected.
Never trade.

Network Nonsense

I’m not sure why I turned on one of those agonizingly long national morning shows today. Maybe I needed some outdated news, or vague regional weather reports. As I sat there watching the different segments, I realized something; either they are seriously out of touch with reality or I am genuinely in trouble.

Let’s start with the daddy and son fashion. Dad is sporting a $300 seersucker blazer, mint green gingham shirt, and some rolled up khaki pants with $200 boat shoes. What? My dad has never worn that. The father of my kids would never wear that. I’m not sure where we would even buy that! How about the 3-year-old wearing $80 Ed Hardy jeans, $40 Vans slip-ons, and a $75 Gap jacket, all of which he will outgrow in three to six months.

50 and fired. What to do when you’re nearing retirement age and lose you your job. You could take a year off, complete your My Name Is Earl list, righting all your wrongs; and then spend the next year scribing your memoires. How about taking the six-figure severance pay and starting your own business making anti-aging pillow cases? In my circle, if you’re 50 and suddenly jobless, you apply for a greeter job at Wal-Mart. You wipe tables and sweep the parking lot at McDonald’s.

I’m sounding a little complainy. I have the summer time blues. It’s a third of the way through June and my back yard is a swamp. The power went out for a little bit yesterday. The roses I planted three weeks ago are all dead. I need some sunshine. Badly. My tomato plants need some sunshine. I was put on a second medication, a mood stabilizer. Just a small, starter dose, but I can feel the effects. My outbursts of seeming rage have filtered down to really angry. Not as often, though. My outlook is good. My attitude is improving. Still need some sunshine.

Let's Begin

To say I'm getting lost in the day to day would be a stark understatement. I feel as if my mind is beginning to play tricks on me; it can't be a "disorder" as my doctor has told me. But I take my pills, make my coffee, discipline my kids, and pray. Hard. Tearfully at times. I can bury myself in the dirty clothes to clean, the soap scum to scrub, and the plants to plant. When everyday runs together it gets easy to become fiercely numb. It's like I'm on the outside, looking in at one of those car accidents on the highway. Slow motion, noticing the faces of the victims, the witnesses, the people standing on the shoulder wishing they could help.
Tomorrow is a new day. I'll have a few drinks tonight and hope I can stay asleep til morning. I have a few errands to run. No money in the bank so it should be a quick trip. The sun is supposed to make an appearance soon, this month, perhaps.  I'm not holding my breath.
"I lift up my eyes to the hills. My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth."
Psalm 121:1,2