Menopause Raptor

Menopause was lonely. That's the only explanation I can think of. She's kind of kept to herself recently. It's been nice, really; I mean, she's not horrible, yet, but it has been nice to sleep more and be less itchy. She made it pretty clear today, though, that she's feeling neglected. She got me up at 5:00 with both barrels of restlessness and anxiety. I tried ghosting her by playing Candy Crush and Wordscapes in hopes of falling back to sleep, but then she countered with a slow creeping hot flash, that never got out of hand, but sent the message that she was not to be trifled with. The dogs seemed to be on her side as they licked my face with aggressive affection.

Round 1: Menopause

So, I got up in acknowledgement that she wanted to play. But now she was on my turf. I generally tend to kick ass at mornings. Today was no exception. I fed the dogs, ate breakfast, finished knitting a Dr. Who hat, went for a run, made breakfast for offspring #1, sent the emails, gave a pep talk to my husband, and picked up those five things I forgot yesterday at the grocery store(forgetfulness should have tipped me off that she was laying her foundation).

Round 2: Me

She's a patient little raptor, though. I was pretty confident that I had turned the tables, and then the crook of my elbow started itching. She skipped a few levels and went straight for the odd and obscure. I assumed it was because I was wearing a long sleeved sweater for the first time since last year, because that made sense to me. That felt controllable and logical. The elbow pits needed airing after being so used to their freedom for the last five months. But the itching persisted, as did a few small red bumps. Oh, of course, it's a bug bite. That makes even more sense. Maybe I got it on my run. Then it started on the other elbow. That seemed weird to me. Either the the October bugs are impressively synchronized, or something else is wrong. So I armchair MD'd it. I literally googled "itching in crook of elbow," and many things came up which was a relief and yet another reminder that I am, in fact, ordinary. As I read all the explanations for elbow crook eczema (allergies, reaction to fabrics or perfumes, etc), it occurred to me to google one more thing. "Menopause eczema." There were multiple headings. I clicked on one, and the kicky picture they used to set the tone of the article was a women's arm. Just the arm, being scratched by the the other arm right in the crook of the elbow.

Round 3: Menopause Raptor

I get it menopause. You will not be denied. You are a worthy adversary. I enjoy our banter and lively hormonal chess games. I get that you want me to be less Irish about all of this and drink more Kombucha, but I am not yet ready to give up chocolate chip cookies for ones sweetened with the honeyed richness of age and wisdom. For today, I will drink an extra glass of water. I'll surrender that rook to you. But I'm coming for you tomorrow. I'm taking that melatonin with a glass of wine and a giddy defiance.

Your move.

Whimsy in an Everyday Day

What if I left?

What if I left and didn't tell anyone?

What if I left and didn't tell anyone and always hit the "I can't talk right now" option when they called?

What if I left and didn't tell anyone and always hit the "I can't talk right now" option when they called, and brought one of the dogs?

What if I left and didn't tell anyone and always hit the "I can't talk right now" option when they called, and brought one of the dogs, and sold geeky knitted crafts at comic-cons across the country?

What if I left and didn't tell anyone and always hit the "I can't talk right now" option when they called, and brought one of the dogs, and sold geeky knitted crafts at comic-cons across the country, and stayed in Air BnB's that realized my fantasy of living in a cool cozy quirky apartment?

What if I left and didn't tell anyone and always hit the "I can't talk right now" option when they called, and brought one of the dogs, and sold geeky knitted crafts at comic-cons across the country, and stayed in Air BnB's that realized my fantasy of living in a cool cozy quirky apartment, and ate bread and cheese all day like we all say we want to when we're not quite drunk but tipsy enough to believe in possibility?

What if I left and didn't tell anyone and always hit the "I can't talk right now" option when they called, and brought one of the dogs, and sold geeky knitted crafts at comic-cons across the country, and stayed in Air BnB's that realized my fantasy of living in a cool cozy quirky apartment, and ate bread and cheese all day like we all say we want to when we're not quite drunk but tipsy enough to believe in possibility, and had to scale back to prepackaged cheddar, but still sharp cheddar, because my cost to profit ratio for career knitting was different than I envisioned?

What if I left and didn't tell anyone and always hit the "I can't talk right now" option when they called, and brought one of the dogs, and sold geeky knitted crafts at comic-cons across the country, and stayed in Air BnB's that realized my fantasy of living in a cool cozy quirky apartment, and ate bread and cheese all day like we all say we want to when we're not quite drunk but tipsy enough to believe in possibility, and had to scale back to prepackaged cheddar, but still sharp cheddar, because my cost to profit ratio for career knitting was different than I envisioned, and I tripped on the uneven sidewalk outside the grocery store where I have to buy my more financially accessible cheese and landed hard on my knee and dominant knitting hand?

and I did not have the liquidity to cover the co-pay?

and I realized that this day was offspring #2's birthday?

and by hitting "can't talk right now" so many times I have alienated him beyond the healing powers of a witty text laced with love and the perfect hint of poignancy?

and I couldn't knit anymore because the anticipated arthritis from falling on my hand hits almost immediately?

and the Air BnB's smell funny?

and even my dog understands that whims get complicated?

and maybe instead of leaving I should live a little and suggest we get Chinese?

and that is how I will add whimsy to this everyday day.

What Did You Do Today

What did you do today?

I, ummm... I checked things off of my manageable list. I used to put eat breakfast on my list. Not because I forget to eat breakfast, but because I knew that would be something I could definitely check off.

I'm face to face with that free time we often dream of. You know the "If I only had more free time I'd do (fill in the blank)" free time. It's not as blissful as you might think. It is often quite paralyzing, in fact. It's not a given that free time will be filled with brilliant achievement or soul cleansing actualization. Most of my free time is spent fearing that I lack what's necessary to fulfill the potential I have long believed has laid dormant due to life, kids, husband, details.

On my manageable list for the last two weeks has been "write." I like writing. What keeps me from writing is the How & Why. How will this be any different than anything else I've tried? How will it result in anything more than polite compliments from friends and family? Why go back to something this late in life when no one could possibly be interested? Why bother? How & Why. Those words curtail my free time into manageable lists. And there is always one word left uncrossed off on those lists at the end of each day. Write.

But not today. Today I set my timer for ten minutes. I'd write for ten minutes. And then that word will get crossed off today's list. And written anew tomorrow.

So, for now, I'll write until the...

A Mother's Day Talk of Shame

Mother’s day is complicated for me. It is not a day of emotional rainbow unicorns and puppies turned inside out and wrapped in brunch, flowers and another meaningful charm for a bracelet that gets in the way when I do just about everything. This is probably because motherhood is complicated for me. The best word I can use to describe it is relentless. Don’t judge me before you look up relentless. It is relentless in its challenges and its joys, its triumphs and its failures, its monotony and its surprises. I do not recognize my experience in the current Mother’s Day mythology; so my tribute to mothers will not be dipped in pastel and served with a mimosa. It will, instead, be coated in something sticky, seasoned heavily with shame and incredulity, and accompanied by something a little stronger which has hopefully been aged in a barrel.

1. I'm embarrassed that I care about Mother's Day.
2. My house is dirty most of the time.
3. My children love each other, but are not friends.
4. Sometimes I block my son’s number.
5. Pretty sure I’m going to have to rely on my dogs to care for me in my old age.
6. My ideal Mother’s Day is a day without my family.
7. I hate grocery shopping.
8. I know for a fact that everyone else is a better mother than I am.
9. I know for a fact that nobody else knows how to parent my kids better than I do.
10. I know for a fact that I have no idea what I’m doing.
11. I am jealous of your kids’ success, genuinely happy for it, but, yes, jealous too.
12. Part of me keeps doing all the cooking, and baking and nurturing crap in hopes that they will eventually have a eureka moment about reciprocity.
13. My husband makes long impossible to-do lists for every weekend. He can’t wait to check off make Mary breakfast & buy Mary gift every second Sunday in May.
14. I don’t remember my children’s first words, I was too exhausted to write them down.
15. I know I cannot actually make them happy, but I keep doing everything possible to make them happy.
16. Sometimes it’s not my fault that it’s their fault.
17. It’s great that they put their dishes in the sink, but why the fuck can’t they put them in the dishwasher.
18. Their suffering still twists my heart into pain and fury.
19. Perhaps my greatest failure as a parent is their inability to find anything.
20. Sometimes I get pissed that I’m always the last one allowed to get pissed.
21. There are many things I could have done if I hadn’t become a mother.
22. There is not a single one of them that I would trade for being a mother.
23. No experience has ever taught me more about the glorious beauty of imperfection and chaos.
24. Don’t ask me what I want for breakfast, after all these years you should know it involves breakfast pastries and bacon.

You are all fierce, beautiful, fabulous for your flaws warriors, who embrace every facet of Relentless every day! Happy Mother's Day.