I Know I Don't Look Sick!

But as Jen pointed out a few months back, that doesn't always enter into it. Herewith, The Spoon Theory. Be glad if it doesn't apply to you. I'm going to have to work out with a graph or something how to function from now on. (My note for today: "Write while eating lunch to maximize "up" time.") I just don't have enough spoons, and as Pirate Boy incessantly reminds me, the Blue and Gold Banquet is tomorrow. I was saving up my spoons for it, I really was, but they're gone now.

Reason #1: My kids steal them, constantly. Yesterday and today they stole a whole week's worth, between potty accidents and sassing and distracting each other and sassing and forgetting to come home from school and sassing...

Reason #2: Bullies. I hate school bullies, I have since I was a kid on the receiving end of their attention. I hate them way more now that my sweet son is the target. I'm terrified for him because a) small, emotional boys get worse treatment even than fat, ugly girls, and b) he knows no fear. ("Oh, sure, I can beat your whole gang in a fight..." No, honey, you can't. Just between you and me and the fire hydrant.)

Reason #3: Opium dependence. As distinct from addiction, which is (thankfully) recognized as a psychological phenomenon, dependence is when your body goes through physical withdrawal symptoms when it doesn't get enough of the drug. Unfortunately, "enough" isn't enough after a while, and the body demands more. Stupid thing. So sometimes I just deal with the burning nerves.

Reason #4: Migraines. I get them especially when my hormonal balance is upset, like when I have to take antibiotics, which negates my birth control pills, or when (as recently) I have to take steroid pills. (Explanation: No, I'm not going out for the major leagues; I had a violent allergic reaction to something unknown, and cortisone helps. Within a week, apparently.)

In fact, I started one series of migraines in January, about the time I became The Man's fantasy girl, "Scone the Librarian." (It's a long story, which I would have posted a month ago if, y'know, the migraine thing hadn't happened.) It was an unpaid internship that I worked for two part-days and was so completely wiped out I couldn't work again. Even on my paying job. So you know how that's going to turn out.

I might venture to add a Reason #5: Depression, but people in my family (even though half of them are on Prozac and its sister drugs) don't seem to think that's a valid excuse for anything, like having no energy. Let me say it for them, so they don't have to: "Whatever! Snap out of it! Get over it! Get off your lazy..." OK, that's enough.

So here I am, trying, albeit imperceptibly, to get the medical records and other documentation that I need for my SS Disability hearing, which is (hallelujah!) scheduled for next Wednesday, worrying constantly about the things I don't feel I can do anymore, and none the better off for it.

None of that will help my status as a mom, however, if I miss the banquet tomorrow, so I've got to go lie down. Enjoy the spoon I've given you.*

*Note to self: Ask Jen where she gets her spoons...

Lasting Impressions

OK, I've had a chance to do some analysis on the kids' report cards ('cause that's what I do; I can't help myself) and some reflection on our life. Pirate Boy does have overall great grades, and #1 Son does have overall lousy ones. But the year's worth of grades tell a sad story.

Even accounting for the week of strep they both had this spring that set them back in their homework, both kids' grades slipped after last fall. More specifically, after the relationship between TM and me went to hell last fall. And kept slipping.

Dang. Maybe #1 Son would be better off with Mommy dearest after all.

I'm gonna cry.

Midnight Musings

Yes, I am still here. This time of year is always mentally draining for me. I usually stop and review where I've been, where I am and generally whether I'm on the right path.

This past year of course was... hard. Extra hard. And the news from last time didn't help. It represented a little bell ringing from my past life. And a nagging fear that I should have been there. I shouldn't have given up my old career in favor of my family. I could have helped. I should have... maybe.

But then I remember things like the recent escape of a dangerous criminal from a hospital in my former town back east. Apparently it's not uncommon there these days. And there was the sniper a few years ago, same area.

I really thought I had resolved all these second thoughts after 9/11. Eventually. It was another case of "I should have been there... I could have been there..." Then of course, I realized that if I had been there, I could have been dead.

So let's say we're OK where we are. At least I'm alive to be impoverished, crippled and unemployed. And I have some awesome people in my life. And who knows, maybe things will be OK after all.

More later.