Cliche

I really hate cliches, and I hate it even more when they are the only appropriate thing that comes to mind in a situation.  Like today.  

When it rains, it pours.

I took this year off from work to be home with my children.  To balance being 100% devoted to your children and working a full-time job outside your home, well, it's REALLY hard.  Even when we give Working Moms a lot of credit, we're not giving them enough.  

I wanted to bake cookies, read stories, do crafts, sing songs, and just be more of a presence to my boys.  Up until now, I'd been dealing with medical problems that made me anything but crafty.

And last week, I had my surgery.  My long-anticipated, seeming-never-to-come surgery--the one that would fix everything.  I feel like a new woman.  I'm all settled down to bake cookies, read stories, do crafts, sing songs, and be more of a presence to my boys.  And then today...well, my family had some bad news.

My grandmother is sick.  We have been worried about her for a long while now, since last May or June.  It's been a slow process.  A lot of careful testing and tip-toeing around what everyone feared would be.  Today we had our fears confirmed, and I feel sick all over again.  But instead of the physical pain, it's the other kind.  The kind that gets inside and squeezes your heart and turns your belly inside out and goes up behind your eyes and sucks out all the water so they feel dry and prickly.  That kind of pain.  And never mind the worry we feel about what my grandmother must be feeling.

I could go into how wonderful she is, but I can't do it tonight.  I can't get into it tonight, because I know I've always taken her for granted and God forgive me, but I just want to keep taking her for granted. She's in her eighties and she's a marathon runner and she's beautiful and her life is full and good and that's everything to be thankful for.  But I want it to stay this way.  Like a little kid, I'm closing my eyes really tight and hanging on to what's right in front of me.  

Deep Breath.

On the upside of things, Noah went to vote with Mommy and Grandma Judy today and scored a free pen.  He calls it his "Wucky Pen," and carries it everywhere.  

Joey and I are excited that I will go into school and read his class a story tomorrow.  He's a little nervous about my reading style.  He said, "Mo-om.  You can't be like THAT.  Moms are just supposed to read quietly and ask us questions.  WE get to be all fun and wild."

I said, "And how am I reading?  What's so bad about it?"

He pointed to his head and twirled his finger around and around: the Crazy Sign.  

And the three of us dealt with a Giant Ladybug Attack tonight.  Man, I hate those things.  Did you know that they are impervious to Lysol?  Don't worry.  We handled ourselves.  We had to--it was us or the Ladybugs.

And that's what I'll keep on doing in every aspect: Handling myself.  Life's tricky that way, isn't it?  It doesn't really matter if you think something is too much to deal with.  When it's happening, it's happening.  All you can do is...keep going.  One day at a time.