my mama, my self

Good grief. Mama hasn’t posted for almost three weeks. What gives? It appears my motivation on the whole lately has been down to less than a quarter of a tank. I haven’t been feeling like myself. Oh, I guess I’m still little ole’ me, but now that me has a brand new pesky little trauma wrinkle just above her right eyebrow, an extra pound around her middle and a brain, very much like Elvis, that has temporarily left the building. And let's not forget, this is also the me that’s trying to do it all with only evening primrose oil and pinot grigio. Yesterday, I asked my hubby if he’d go back into ICU for a couple of days to worry this nasty belly pooch off me, but no dice. He didn’t even crack a smile. Go figure.

Between all the 6:00am wake-up calls, the leaky washer and the gasoline dollars that are slipping through my fingers, lately I am waking up feeling like Eeyore has kicked me in my Thoughtful Spot. Many have said it's post traumatic stress, some speculate it’s a thyroid that’s gone loony, a few have suggested that it’s simply being middle-aged and mom to a couple of white-cheeked gibbons, and one has even gone so far to say, thereby putting our relationship dangerously close to the edge, that perhaps it's pre-menopause. Thanks a lot, hon. Me? I agree to almost all of the above, except the thyroid. It isn’t. I already checked that 16 pounds of me ago. As far as my nether region, who knows? My husband hung a Closed for Procreation sign on that puppy a long time ago anyway, so I guess it doesn't really matter. I thought of romanticizing another little one out of him after the “big heal”, but he won't go there. I don’t know what his problem is...I mean, just because we’re going to be wheel-chaired and nursing a bottle of Ensure at their college graduations...

And as if my mini mid-life crisis isn’t cry babyish enough, the other day a package arrived on our front porch. In it were all kinds of clothes for the girls..a good pal o’ mine sending my munchkins some adorable goodies. They tore into that baby like piranhas. Strangely enough, I gave birth to two clothes horses. The frillier, the pinker, the lacier, the skirt-ier- the better. Way down at the bottom, though, underneath the sandals, the summer frocks, the Harley-Davidson tutu and my friend’s sense of humor was a small aqua blue tee with the words My Mom Is Hot. Alrighty then. I grabbed for that sucker as quick as lightning, but there’s simply no race between my old reflexes and T.’s mischievous little mitts and hawk-eye for loud colors. Much to my horror, before I knew it, she was bottomless and running around our pad with that thing on. Rubbing my crisis right on in. My whole family thought it tres funny. I thought about getting on the horn and letting Britney know that she dropped her shirt on my doorstep. I figure if T. continues to insist on wearing it as her jammies every night, then I had better submit my app. to Dr. 90210. Immediately, if not sooner.

So there ya have it. After starring in my very own, poorly acted hospital melodrama for Lifetime, commercial free- no less, and all without the invaluable help of Joanna Kerns, I am left exhausted, somewhat blog entry challenged and just trying to settle in and acclimate to the hum-drumminess of regular life. Hubby is back bringing home the bacon, one kid's immersed in all things letter and number and one has discovered the potty and insists on visiting it about every four minutes or so. Who knew the mundane activity of urinating could be so exciting? Once again, though, it gets me right back to the spot where my old, hormonal self needs to be. Back to all the basics. And reminding myself to appreciate every little bit of it....lazy days spent on "the farm" (actually a plastic bucket of hay that my kids managed to rake out of the bed of my niece’s F150)...laying on our backs, noshing jelly beans and finding dinosaurs and bunnies in the clouds...our prayer just a little bit deeper than before. Over the last few months, I ran like Flo-Jo. Now, I'm just finally catching my breath from the hurdles and easing back into the slow steady marathon of life. Mama will find her rhythm again...trying to skip ahead in a bit more proactive way than my sometimes lazy self would like, a big Hefty sponge to the sweet, simple joy of discovery as seen through the four eyeballs of my two crazy towheads and continuing to be blown away and encouraged by the amazing potential and power the mind has over the body, the incredible capacity of how much love the heart can hold, and especially how one’s good health is truly one's greatest fortune. Whew. Stress can catch up with ya and lay you out, if you let it. I’m going to sign off now and go soak in my kid's silliness and watch them draw rainbows. Then I just might rummage through my pantry for an estrogen-laced chocolate bar.