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But I don’t have the right shoes for crazy

May 22, 2012 by Momma Bear

(And yes, this whole post is not going to be especially p.c., and I am sensitive to the issues of mental illness and understand that for people living with mental health issues and their loved ones – there is nothing funny about it.  It’s been one of those weeks though.)

There are several reasons why going crazy is not an option.   Most of them are the obvious ones, like I am the custodial “stable” parent, etc etc… but it’s more than that.  It occurred to me this morning that I just don’t know what I would WEAR to crazy.  And while I am sure I could piece something together from all the too-small clothes, I for SURE don’t have the right shoes.  I also don’t know where I could possibly put it in to the packed schedule right now to go shopping for footwear.  So, although crazy was looking awfully good this morning, I decided not to go there.  For now.

More than I don’t have time to go shopping for crazy shoes, I *REALLY* don’t have time for cancer.  And right here is where I am going to be preaching to the choir to all the moms out there.

I had an appointment with my oncologist yesterday.  I really heart that man.  [ No real news… more waiting. I will have a CT scan the end of May and hopefully then have the genetic testing results and THEN can make a decision.  Really thinking I will do something in the realm of experimental… and as my doc pointed out, there is always the traditional to fall back on.  We also talked cocktails.  Just saying.]  Anyways.  My point here was that my appointment was at 3:40.  I had to take the cubs because I couldn’t figure out how to make it everywhere else if they weren’t with me.  They were heavily bribed perfect angels and made me look really good.  So, I picked them up at school, and went to the appointment.  18 miles.  We drove home really quick to change into the appropriate sports gear.  14 miles.  Took Cub 2 to baseball practice.  9 miles.  Left him there and took Cub 1 to lacrosse pictures.  8 miles.  He forgot his white jersey, so had to run home and bring it back.  4 miles.  Left him there and went back to get Cub 2.  8 miles.  Met Cub 1 and friends for buffet night at our favorite pizza place… because oh yeah, it was 7:30 and the cubs needed to eat and I realized I had forgotten to eat lunch in between work and my appointment.  9 miles.  Not counting work… I drove SEVENTY MILES after school yesterday.  WHAT?!?  This is most parents’ lives with kids this age and in sports, so not really asking for sympathy here.  Just feeling it

What I am REALLY feeling here, though, is the ‘single parenting’ thing.  It’s not just the driving and scheduling.  It’s not just that the kids don’t eat unless I feed them.  (Although that is a lot of pressure…) It’s not even that there is no one to tag ‘it’ when I have reached the end of my rope and oh-my-gawwwwwwwwwd-they-are-fighting-again-and-is-that-SHOES-they-are-throwing-at-each-other?  It’s just the sheer overwhelming volume of all the stuff there is TO DO.  I have girlfriends doing this that make it look easy but oh-for-the-love, it so isn’t.  I don’t get how I am supposed to work, do all the house and yard stuff, do all the shopping and cleaning and cooking and washing and omg the flaundry, AND do all the mom things, and OH YEAH!  I HAVE FUCKING CANCER!  And SERIOUSLY — how is it ALWAYS garbage day AGAIN???  So, I ask you…  am I so tired because I have cancer, or because I’m a single mom?

If I *do* decide to go crazy, then I would have lots of time to see my girlfriends.  They could come visit and we could do fun supervised crafts together.  Looking better and better, just saying.

But now, the cubs are sleeping… both curled up in my bed waiting for me to get in that most special spot right in between them.  They are so beautiful and angelic (they’re sleeping, remember?) and I think of all the silliness, laughter, sweetness… their funny conversations, sayings, their curiosity and wonder…  I think I will stay here for now.  Don’t even think I will hit the online sites for shoes.

But, hey cancer???  FUCK YOU.




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