First Day of School.....

It's been a "difficult" couple of weeks. "Difficult" is in quotes, because while there have been circumstances of note, I think 50% of the difficulty is centered squarely in my crushing hormonal fatigue...yes, here it is yet again...

You be the judge...

Bigger started kindergarten. He's thrilled! He came home after orientation, and when I asked about his teacher he told me, "she's even nicer than you are Mammy!" I took it as a compliment, why not? Bigger is eager to please, and certainly of average intelligence and physical appearance. There is every indication that he will do just fine.

Daughter is struggling with the disruption of schedule, and the idiocy of policy and staff. Other than the form letter informing Daughter and Dude that Bigger would be attending morning kindergarten, and the date and time of the orientation, there has been no communication of protocol or procedure. Everything must be gleaned from the tragically ineffective, and frustrating website. Or, as a last resort, calling and talking to the clueless administrative staff. It's not their fault. The left hand, truly has no idea what the right hand is doing... This does not bode well for the confidence of the first time parent. Daughter is handling it all with grace and tact. I'm struggling not to give in to the urge to bitch slap the next snarly peon that takes it on themselves to point out our gross shortcomings in the areas of expected conformity and etiquette.

Because of the mismanagement of our school tax dollars...there was a huge overrun in the cost of building the new state-of-the-art elementary school a few years ago. Said school is already obsolete. Oh, there isn't enough room for all the students in grades K through 5...so the kindergarten kids are bused from the spanking new elementary school to a "kindergarten center" in a former day care facility on the other side of the district. Ok. At 11:45 am, Daughter and/or I walk the mile and a half to pick up Bigger from the bus. Apparently, from the snide remarks of the overweight, intelligence impaired AIDE, we aren't supposed to WALK to pick up the kids. The ACCEPTABLE method, is to drive, park in the designated pick up line and run our engines for the 20 to 30 minutes it takes to actually procure the correct, properly designated child (known by the yellow sign with hand printed name that we flash out the side window) into the car and securely anchor them according to Federally mandated safety seat protocol. Can you tell, I'm bitter....

I'm wondering what this procedure will engender when the weather is much, much less than ideal. Five and six year olds standing on line in sub freezing temperatures, in the sleet, in the rain...they've already been enduring 90 degree heat...and they aren't supposed to sit in the shade of the tiny tree a couple of yards behind the designated line in the sidewalk where they were instructed to assemble...they stand awaiting the signal from the union supported teacher's helper, who a). can't yell loud enough to be heard an extra 20 feet away, or b). is too fat and lazy to walk a few extra steps, that their caregiver's SUV is next in queue.

After about 20 seconds, I've come up with a far better solution. Have a room or foyer, or hallway, or even the freakin' bus where the kids sit for 15 minutes waiting for the aide to show, designated as a kindergarten pick up zone. The parents can park their cars in line, shut them off, haul their asses and the asses of younger smaller other children out of their seats and walk to pick up the kids...they can then return to their vehicles and proceed on their merry way...

Then there is the aide, not the same kindergarten pick up aide, but another equally skilled and intelligent, that couldn't fathom a six year old off to school for the very first time, getting off of the bus that brings him to the grade school and following the safety patrol fifth grader, designated by the bus driver as the very person to travel behind, into the building and not onto the transfer bus that would take him safely to his teacher and classroom...and I quote, "I don't know WHAT Bigger was THINKING!?!" Duh, you stupid blank, it was his second day....HE HAD NO CLUE, AND ISN'T THIS YOUR J-O-B?????

It is very, very, very, very good that I'm not handling this stuff...cause I would have sooooo alienated the entire staff and most of the other parents. And, I wouldn't have given a flying f....I'm that annoyed....because I've been through all of this, and behaved graciously, and supported the teachers, and admonished and/or uplifted my children and quite frankly I'm sick and tired of trying to get along. Some one has to care about the students and if e-d-u-c-a-t-i-o-n has to suffer...so be it...but, trust me, education will survive....we might "inconvenience" a few aides......

WTF! vs. wtf?

Whose stupid idea was hormones, anyway? I find it almost incomprehensible that the human race has survived it's procreative process. Apparently men aren't easily daunted? Women, even after experiencing pregnancy and childbirth, will decide to propagate yet again? Puberty, with it's first flush of raging sexuality, may explain an initial preoccupation. But, adolescents are terminally annoying! Why doesn't the irritation override the attraction?

Then in young adulthood the real horror of PMS takes over. You've got seven days of active menstruation - bleeding, bloating, cramps, followed by a week's worth of ovulation woes - food cravings, excitability, sleeplessness, followed by one pretty good day - but you're exhausted from the tribulations of the past two weeks, followed by a week to ten days of pure emotional hell. Not much of a window of opportunity. But, love finds a way...and you spend the next two decades raising the fruits of those ten minute intervals.

So, what's natures reward? Menopause!

I'm actually in the throes of perimenopause. Thank you, Experts, so much for clarifying that for me! According to these Experts, who should all rot in hell, perimenopause are the 5-15 YEARS leading up to a 12 month cessation of menstruation, after which you can say you are menopausal. During this interminable time you will experience hot flashes, mood swings, crushing fatigue, mental confusion, loss of libido, feelings of dread, there are 35 listed here: http://www.project-aware.org/Experience/symptoms.shtml. Ok, that may be technically correct...but, right now I'm using the term "menopausal" as a synonym for "raging ax-murderer", which is what I could become before ultimately making it to the nirvana that is postmenopause: brittle bones, facial hair, abdominal fat distribution, dry skin, thinning hair and incontinence.

I can get sooooo angry...and irrational.

I'm pretty much void of "warm fuzzes". If I'm not actively irritated, than I'm inwardly hyperventilating. I'd really rather you didn't touch me...don't even talk to me...stop LOOKING at me! I feel overwhelmed. Don't get in my way! Don't ask me to deviate from my projected course, and, for god's sake, don't ask me anything and expect a civil reply!

I was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, which involves multi-tasking. "Sudden lack of multi-tasking ability" should be listed under the previously mentioned list of perimenopauseal symptoms. In addition to putting the dishes into the dishwasher, washing the dishes that can't go into the dishwasher, wiping the counters, & refrigerating the leftovers, I'm getting the grandsons more chocolate milk and/or lemonade, monitoring video game play, feeding the Princess a bottle, and kicking the cat out of the way. Tall One picks this exact moment to ask me if I want to bike to the Rotary picnic tomorrow night. My response wasn't pretty...and lasted about 20 minutes...for which I apologized repeatedly over the next 36 hours.

When I'm not flying off, irrationally, at the smallest provocation, I'm just idiotic.

My interpersonal barometer is stuck on "lacking social skills". It's not just that I say stupid things...I've always done that, and could laugh at myself and move on...I'm just ridiculous, and then I freeze. I'm imagining it's embarrassing. It would be embarrassing if I had the capacity to discern. My mind, for days at a time, is just a fuzzy blank.

I ran into a couple of friends while out walking with the Pretty Princess this morning. The first, a couple, were going into the coffee shop. I haven't seen the wife in many months and she looked fantastic! She'd lost weight, and was blond with a GREAT cut. Really sharp. My witty comment on her weight loss consisted of, "Starving?"...yup, that's what I said. I have a vague remembrance of stammering other sentences that I hope conveyed the underlying delight in seeing her and just how impressed I am at her stunning transformation...at least I'm assuming I would be delighted and impressed if I were capable of feeling anything over the oppressive confusion and stifling intellectual lethargy!

Then, Pretty Princess and I stopped by the local farmers' market. I'm pretty sure I was stupid at the two stands from which I purchased products, and maybe a bit moronic to the others as I smiled, nodded, and drooled some sort of mumbled attempted witticism as we walked past. Then I saw a dear friend. He's a joker. So I greeted him with, "Oh, I was hoping I didn't run into anyone I knew! ha, ha, ha!" I know, it doesn't make any sense, it didn't at the time, it never will. It's just hanging out there in conversational purgatory...the poor man probably thinks I'm brain damaged. I'm surprised he didn't call a family member to come and pick me up!

And, now I'm sitting here, with Spongebob Squarepants on the television, trying to put three or four words together to make some sort of understandable sentence, and it's just impossible. I usually save posts, emails, and other internet contributions from these mentally challenged ramblings, for times when I'm able to THINK, critique and correct, but, I'm going to go ahead and post this...if it doesn't make sense, perhaps you'll understand...if it does make any sense at all...well, damn, I'm good!

Oh, and I have cramps, and I'm bleeding to death.

"Not Again....and again...and again..."

It's a lazy Sunday morning....

If I had my way, and I often do, all mornings would be lazy. I used to "hit the ground running". But, that was before "the decline". I hit a wall, physically, somewhere in my mid-forties...and I've never been the same. The "coup de grace" came in the form of a great personal accomplishment. I ran a marathon. In 5 hours, 18 minutes. It was the most glorious run of my life. The training almost killed me....I'm not speaking figuratively...and I've barely run since then. The spirit is willing. I miss running.

I'm a spectator in my inevitable physical decline. I expected this. I also expected that as my physical self deteriorated, my character would compensate....stop laughing...this is serious...

I am greatly troubled by my lack of integrity. I am 53 years old...and I'm desperately hoping that integrity is not a finite, fixed entity, that we aren't born with a certain amount, determined by genetics, and that's all there is - sorry.

I look at my husband, especially, and the children we've produced, and I'm shocked and amazed as the integrity oozes from every pore. They make it seem so natural, so effortless. They know just what needs to be done/said/believed and then they do/say/believe it! And, it's always fair, right, just, and magnanimous. I, on the hand, have to think, fumble, blunder into an action, then excuse, regret, and apologize for the dismal mess I made of the most innocuous situation. I will illustrate:

Daughter and I were in a grocery outlet the other day. At the checkout, I dropped the glass jar of marshmallow fluff on the floor (clumsiness is apparently another benefit of "the decline"). Fortunately, it did not shatter into a million pieces, although that would have solved the ensuring dilemma quite nicely. It would have taken any ambiguous course of action completely out of my hands, cause you HAVE to deal with a smashed jar of marshmallow cream by calling attention to it...especially in the presence of store employee witnesses. What did happen was that the jar lid cracked. I put it on the shelf and asked Daughter to get me another jar. I'm sure the clerks SAW what happened, I don't know what they THOUGHT. Daughter asked if I wanted to say something about the damaged jar with a gesture, look, and question...and I waved it off with a cavalier flair. Moments later, in the car, on the way home, the wrongness of my actions registered.

Why don't simple, honest, honorable decisions come naturally to me? Why did I immediately react as I did, by denying the obvious and taking the low road? I think this is a fundamental flaw. One, I recognize, and can sometimes have the presence of mind to override. But, what is it I lack - or possess - that causes matters of morals and conscience to loom so large in the minutia of daily interactions?

Am I fundamentally dishonest? Immature? Self absorbed? I should have been past this at puberty!

Anyone have a cave I can crawl into? Because my own solution of "try, try again" is getting awfully old, feeble and ridiculous....not unlike me....*sigh*

Inevitable Decline....

I began this post in 1/09. I'm editing in 8/10....

Ok, I'm in the mood to beat a dead horse.

I am 52 years old. When I look in the mirror, I am not surprised. My eyelids drop, I'm forming jowls, I was inordinately pleased when I saw a picture of myself in profile and realized I didn't have a wattle. I assumed I did! My hair sparkles, my waist is thickening, I'm twenty pounds heavier than I used to be.

My knees hurt, they actually crunch when I go up the steps, the sound itself is enough to make me sit down. I have cramps all the time. I'm starting to understand the allure of "unnecessary hysterectomy". I haven't run all winter. I used to run in the snow. I remember parking at the grocery store and running around the residential streets because the roads were clearer. Now, it's difficult to get off my chair, go out to the garage, get in my car with heated seats and drive to the gym. It takes me a week to recover from a session at the gym. And, they aren't what they used to be when I would run 4 miles, workout with a sadistic trainer for an hour, and run home again. I remember running when I was sick, I thought it was good for me, "If I can run five miles with a fever, imagine how good I'll feel running when I'm better!".

I sleep a lot, 8 or nine hours at night, and a nap in the afternoon most days. I didn't sleep for twenty five years. First there were babies, and then there was Wheeler. Sleep was the enemy, robbing me of productivity. Three hours was a "good nap"! I felt rejuvenated. Now, even on nap days I drag around like the living dead. Losing sleep makes me physically ill, really, I get nauseated. There are days that I HAVE to lie down. It's physically impossible not to sleep.

All the time I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating. I didn't have to eat. I'd drink coffee, black coffee, the stronger the better. I could go all day. And, when I did eat, my food choices were horrendous! A couple of pieces of candy for breakfast, ice cream for dinner. I was hungry, but I was B-U-S-Y! Very, very busy. Tall One learned to cook. He subscribed to a recipe-card club, out of self-preservation. He kept our sons alive.

Now, I never miss a meal. 95% of the time I'm making informed nutritious food choices; low fat, fruit and salads, chicken, fish. I drink wine, which I never did before. And, my coffee, in the morning now contains no-fat half and half.

But, in spite of my new "commitment" to food, I sometimes FORGET to eat. Really, it's not self denial, I feel that gnawing, growling stomach churn and think, "oh my, I didn't eat breakfast". "What are you doing that preoccupies your time and thoughts to such an extent?", you may ask. I'm trying to wake up!!

Viva La Sisterhood!

After Tall One read my last post, he came upstairs and told me, "I read your menopause post". I was a little irritated. Ok, I was a lot irritated...if he read what I wrote (and read between the lines) he should know not to speak to me...anyway, I told him, in no uncertain terms, that it was not a "menopause" post. It's all about the cycle, the common travail of the feminine mystic, the sisterhood, blah, blah, blah...

Guess what, it just may be a menopause post. I got my period...mid-cycle. Up to this point, there have been indications that, menstrual-wise, I was approaching the beginning of the end. The cycle isn't always 28 days, consistently. I am bleeding more or less, for longer or shorter periods of time. I missed a whole month recently, and my tubes have been tied since PhD was born, so I KNEW I wasn't pregnant (and I'm early '50's, another really good indicator of mere hormonal fluctuation). I've been having more definite symptoms mid way through the month as documented (again blah, blah, blah). But, I was hoping, really hoping, that everything would just fade away, or better yet, STOP. And, then I could be really smug about "going through the change" au naturel. Sort of like the superiority of experiencing natural childbirth. I could commiserate with my afflicted sisters, nodding sympathetically, and offering sage advice gleaned from the medical websites and Oprah show, secure in my own superior aging processes. No hormone replacement therapy for me, thank you, no hysterectomy, no antidepressants, no problems.

Well, let me tell you about the debilitating lethargy. No seriously. There are days when I struggle to get out of bed. And days when I can't wait to lie down for my THREE HOUR nap!!! I'm cranky. Irritable. And so very, very tired. I can't think, literally...or figuratively, for that matter. I can't think. If you've never experienced this, just let me say right now, you have no idea. I read about the foggy, fuzzy-headedness that some women experience. They fear dementia, tumors, or stroke. They are not exaggerating. It's been so bad that I can't recall names....of immediate family members! I couldn't remember the number of our street address, and I was just out for a walk, thinking idly, not in a pressure situation WHAT-SO-EVER, and we've lived at this address for over TEN YEARS! I don't finish sentences. I either lose track, lack motivation, or can't - for the life of me - express a coherent thought. Don't ask me for directions, don't ask me to explain...anything, and don't - for the love of God - ask me for an opinion. I'm hanging for days by my last nerve.

But, Friday morning I woke up to a song. Happy, happy me. No bleeding, no bloating, no belligerency! I cleaned the house, rearranged the furniture and canned some salsa. I always do the wash, even when I'm feeling particularly miserable, either physically or emotionally. Laundry is something I can handle during the "bad" times, but I did a few loads today, just because I felt so darn good!

I keep track of these ups and downs. I'm hoping I won't have to, too much longer. Then all I'll have to worry about is osteoporosis, facial hair, and vaginal dryness. Be careful what you wish for, eh?

Hormonal Imbalances Not Karma.

I am extremely unmotivated....and very, very tired. I am doing nothing....for days. Baby and Larger One come over and I keep them alive and supplied with "pink milk" and " 'mallows". When they nap - I nap. I can barely get up the curiosity to check my email. I've been reading even more than usual. I think I know the problem. Mid-cycle hormones gone wild.

When I start eating ice-cream at 10am and icing my bread with butter...When the bread is just an excuse to eat the butter, and I lick the knife and think, "damn, that's good"...When I wake up feeling vaguely troubled, like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the first one hasn't yet, progressing through the day to a dull sadness...Not unlike a dull headache...You're not always conscience of it, but it's always there, taking the sharp edge off of feeling well, or feeling happy. ..I'm restless, agitated, unsettled, but, I nap for three hours in the afternoon anyway...Then, I know there's something seriously unbalanced transpiring. This has NOTHING to do with circumstances. This is purely organic.

And the next day, more of the same only less. I'm ambiguously blase. I don't care in a snarly way, but I'm too numb to verbalize. Probably, if I would do anything I wanted, I would order a large pizza, have it delivered, and spend the day on the sofa eating and reading. I would not have contact with any other human, I would not turn on the TV or listen to music. I might play computer games. I'd probably kick the cat. But, I'm not going to do any of that. That would truly make things worse. Then I'd have to add regret to the long and growing list of negative character traits I seem to be exhibiting at an escalating pace. I'm grumpy, lethargic, petty, ungrateful, negative, guilty, remorseless, antagonistic, needy, dishonest, tactless... You get the point. Now, excuse me while I go eat worms.

Anyway, what I am going to do is what I need to do...no heroics. Dude will be here soon with the boys. They will need dirt piles, and special treats. I have massive amounts of tomatoes to peel and chop. I won't be so ambitious as to actually make or can salsa, but at least the main ingredient will be prepared when I begin to recover my manic equilibrium. I think we will consider pizza for dinner, though.

I wonder about this whole hormonal fiasco we deal with as women. It's these hormones that regulate our sex drive and procreative processes. We need to ovulate, copulate, and either menstruate or gestate, to keep the human race a viable planetary force. How does feeling various shades of crappy, three out of four weeks a month help this along? If there is a supreme maker, or just natural selective species-improving evolution, I'm wondering if he/it couldn't develop a better system? Especially in this enlightened age of feminism?

I'm just glad that I don't have to radically subvert my womanly inconveniences, in order to appear more equally qualified. I'm glad I don't have to suck it up in the board room, deal with cramps and flooding during basic training. It's usually enough just to make it out of bed in the morning, not snap at Tall One, refrain from eating ALL the chocolate in the house, and manage something, anything, productive.

And I know that this is temporary, that it's not fatal, and if I just "keep it together" it'll pass without catastrophic, lasting consequences. My period is still two weeks away...And that's when it really hits the fan...