If it’s not one thing

by Fiddledeedee on June 11, 2013

My husband had an interesting revelation this morning.  In the last couple of weeks he’s seen me through another round of Lyme treatment, a bad reaction to one of my antibiotics, the onset of Plantar Fasciitis, depression, WRITER’S BLOCK (I’m pretty sure that after nearly 7 years of blogging I AM OUT OF WORDS), and a new Gluten Free diet.  He likens our life to the WHACK A MOLE game.  Just when you pop one on the head another one appears.

It’s simply my attempt to keep him alert and youngish.

After this moment of clarity, his younger sister (Trish) called to talk to me.  “Oh thank goodness, she’s in a funk, you are just the person she needs to talk to.”  And with that he handed me the phone.

Generally Trish is the perfect person to drag me out of the doldrums, as she usually has an exciting tale of carnage and destruction at her house, thereby making me feel a little bit better about my own position as a parent.

And trust me, it works both ways.

We talked a bit about our pending meeting with our sweet homeschool evaluator scheduled for tomorrow, and then we discussed our morning.  She confided in me that she was sitting down at the kitchen table with her husband clutching her first morning cup of coffee.  Her eyes wandered over to a pair of goofy glasses sitting on the counter.  They belonged to her son, and were the kind of glasses which have the eyeballs on springs.  She began crying.  Her husband was all WHY ARE YOU CRYING?  “Because those glasses remind me of my mom.  I miss her.”

We lost our precious Natalie in January very unexpectedly.  We’re all still in deep denial.

Her husband was understandably perplexed, because like my own husband, there is a lot of mole whacking going on when you live with a homeschooling mom.

In short order I was crying as well.  I could totally see Natalie wearing the goofy glasses.  I sniffed, “YOU ARE NOT HELPING ME AT ALL!”  My husband was all WHAT THE HECK?

And yet, in the end we had to giggle.  Thinking of Natalie wearing the glasses.

Later I drug all of my children over to my dear friend Jenny’s house so the children could frolic and we could catch up on girl talk.  We laughed.  We cried.  We commiserated.  It was just what the doctor ordered.

Girlfriends are certainly the cure for most any ill.  And I’m pretty sure my own husband is eternally grateful that I am blessed with a gaggle of really awesome girlfriends.

On an extra light note, I wanted to share the following conversation that I had with my son today prior to leaving the house:

“Jensen, go brush your hair.”

Jensen, not even trying to hide the exasperation, “Mom, why do you want girls to be attracted to me.  Who cares how I look?”

“I do.  Because it reflects badly on me.”

Signed me,
Mother of the Year



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