Lumps and Bumps

Well, it's officially Lump Day today. I am dropping off Princess, the puppy, at one vet to be spayed, and then taking Sweet Pea, the rat, to a different vet to have a tumor removed. Then I'm off to Riddle Hospital for a mammogram. Which is coincidentally very convenient, since my mom drove my dad back to Riddle in the middle of the night last night. He had started throwing up last night, and when my mom went to check on him, she noticed a "soccer ball sized lump" in his abdomen. My mom is big on checking the internet for every health issue, so she immediately diagnosed it herself as a hernia. She and my dad have been vacationing in the Poconos all week; no matter, she took her pocketbook, her laptop, and my dad and drove back to Media. They arrived at Riddle Hospital by 2:00 a.m.; he was admitted by 3:15. He is to be operated on sometime today, so I guess I'll be hanging at the hospital today. Good times! He's probably more aggravated about missing NCAA action than anything else. He's a damn ornery 76 year old. So hopefully all the prayers will lift him up and keep the doctor's hands steady. Happy lump day.

Cold Winter Tears

Today is the last day of winter. It is cold and rainy, a perfect goodbye to this long and painful winter. I am looking foward to the glorious spring not only to renew my spirit in the warm and vital sunshine, but also to repair some of the regretful damage that was caused during the dark winter season. I am 46. I am not 17. Sometimes I forget that. My children are my children. They are not my friends. Sometimes I forget that, too.

On days like this, when I am alone in the house and have too much time on my hands, it's easy to become self-centered and wallow in the pools of self-pity. My weight, my aging skin, my ripped-up winter-torn hands, all reminders that even I am moving into another season. (And I'm having a bad hair day on top of everything.)

I am so tired. I'm tired of Jake and Clara Joy fighting with each other. Tired of playing referee between Michael and the kids. Tired of volunteering my time for projects knowing I am completely unappreciated. (Not that I want recognition for that...it would just be nice to hear a "thanks, I'm really glad you're here" once in awhile. Hell, I'd like to hear that in my own house.) Tired of scolding the puppy...tired of missing Duchess, the most perfect dog in the world. Tired of bursting into tears at any given moment, for no apparent reason.

My life is a pattern of good intentions and disappointments. I have all these wonderful ideas of great things I want to do (a huge party for Clara's birthday, a wonderful 20th anniversary present for Michael, an end-of-year sleepover party for Jake), but when push comes to shove, nothing happens. I'm either too lazy, or over-committed, or just plain freaked out by the thought and planning that has to go into everything. And then, of course, there's always the money issues. I know I am capable of doing all of these things, and I know how to budget for them. But for some reason, I just freeze. This is one of the reasons I think I may be going to hell...they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I am right there. And I feel like a failure. (There. I said it.) I could accomplish so many things if I would just get off my ass and do them. I really need to get over myself.

So on this dreary, depressing last day of winter, I am hoping that the arrival of Ostara will renew not only the external world, but also my internal world. It's time for me to grow up and be responsible. And that scares the hell out of me. Maybe that's why I cry.

Hitting the Fan

After all this time trying to find a place to post my thoughts in infinite space, Maryjean finally pointed out the obvious to me on her facebook page by posting a link to her blog. Thanks, Maryjean! Even though it's Friday, I am having a hard time getting it together today. The dog is driving me insane...she just shredded about three magazines into confetti. The dishes in the sink have been piled up there for two days and Michael just gave me the "why do the kids get allowance" speech. The shower leaked in the upstairs bathroom this morning and there's water everywhere. The laundry is spilling out of the laundry chute and onto the floor of the laundry room. Pam called and asked me to cover four (four!) preschool dance classes at the YMCA on Saturday from 10:00 to 2:00, and then I'm helping Miss Debbie at the studio with daddy/daughter rehearsal from 3:00 to 5:00; on Sunday I'm going to be in a Safe Serve class at the bartending school from 10:00 until 4:00. Some weekend, huh? I wonder if this is the reason I feel another migraine coming on? I don't have time for it right now...I need to prepare for my 1:00 dance class at Old Union. It just keeps coming. Oh yeah. And I found out last night that some of my not-so-admirable behavior was reported to someone who should not be told. Worried? You bet your ass I am.

later that same day...

Soooo...my dance class at Old Union is over, and went remarkably well, considering how young the students are and how short of an attention span they possess...dishes are loaded in the dishwasher, laundry is sorted and ready to roll, St. Patrick's Day decorations are up, and I just got a call that I don't have to teach at the Y tomorrow, so maybe I can relax a lttle bit this evening....haha! Still haven't been able to clear up the indiscretionary comment problem, but hopefully it will evaporate. Grrrrrr.