Thursday, January 30, 2014
Why Can't I Worry Myself Thin?
Here's something that hit me last night: Last year, the daughter of one of my Sleek Suburban Mom friends had a bit part in the high school production of Grease, and I organized a party with the local girls and moms to have pizza and ice cream (and, er, a grown-up drink or two) at our house ahead of time, and then we all caravan-ed to the show together. Mimosa and I knew three girls in the cast, and we brought bouquets for all of them. It was a pretty fun night.
Now Mimosa has a good part in a play, and I e-mailed my circle of friends to encourage them to come see her (including the moms of all three girls we gave flowers to). And the response has mostly been — silence.
I don't say this to point fingers at anyone. We all have a lot going on (in fact, one of my bestys is starring in a show at the exact same time, what are the odds? I will get to see her perform the following week), and we do the best we can. And also, my Grease party wasn't a quid pro quo kinda thing — I did it because I wanted to and because I hoped it would help my shy daughter have some peer fun and feel more part of things.
Nonetheless . . . I don't think any of the local girls are coming to see her, and yes, I am disappointed.
I was also feeling bad because the kids, Husband, and I haven't written a single thank-you note yet for our Christmas presents (it is so hard to find a time when all four of us are home these days!). We usually do this as a family event, sitting at the dining room table together; my rule is that the note has to be at least four sentences and only one of them can be "thank you" — people want to hear about your lives, I always say. So we read aloud our notes as we write them, and it's pretty hilarious. (Good Neighbor Anne showed me a note Li'l Martini wrote her a few years ago: "Thank you for the soap with the turtle in it. I wanted to use it right away, but Mom says I have to wait until we use up the soap that's in the bathroom right now. I wish I could play with that turtle. I think Mom is mean. Great present. Love, Li' Martini")
But then it occurred to me: I called every family member on Christmas Day to thank them for their gifts and tell them I love them. Brother 1's family hadn't opened our presents yet . . . and I haven't heard a word from any of them since. I'm especially disappointed because I made Flinty Red, my sister-in-law's, present this year with my own two hands, and I really wanted to hear how she liked it — I thought it turned out awesome. But nary a word.
We're still going to write thank-you notes (the view is great, up here on the High Road), probably next weekend, but I'm going to stop feeling bad about it.
This week also marks the first year in something like decades that I haven't written a long birthday letter or e-mail to Bride Boy, who turned, I think, 44 on Tuesday. (I am really, really bad at remembering how old people are, but I'm pretty good about remembering birthdays.) I'm still feeling that loss, and I'm sure it's the source of some of my sadness this week.
But I finally have my car back (ugh, almost a thousand bucks later), and Husband got Li'l Martini's dead computer to work again (so we don't have to buy him a new one – yay, hundreds of bucks saved), and — oh, guess who's back? Auntie Flo returned to my life, albeit a month late, and that's been all kinds of interesting. Hmm, and also probably a source of my baby-blue mood. I still don't feel quite myself, physically, but I'm trying to be patient and just get through this adjustment period. I see my cancer advice doc this month, maybe she'll give me a pep talk.
The hidden agenda of this long tale of woe (and there's so much more, but I get weary of writing about it all) is to bolster my case for skipping Tuesday zumba this week, but I know I'm being ridiculous. It's too cold and I'm too tired and sad, for sure, but exercise would help with all those things. Anyway, I'll go tonight. I'm enjoying the Thursday class a lot because it's nearby (right at the bottom of my hill, in my old church) and there's a clock in the classroom; it's amazing what a difference that makes. There's a clock in the Tuesday gym too, but it's permanently stuck at 7:30; it's like a cruel joke. I love knowing exactly how close I am to being done.
I've had a ton of paying work these past two weeks (which is awesome) but today I'm free, so I've scheduled 10 million errands – and it will be great to get them all off my plate. Top of the list: car inspection — and how great to have a car to actually inspect!! Eleven days without a car. Man.
(One of my errands is not sneaking in a matinee of 12 Years a Slave. I'm scared to try to see that movie now. Maybe I should have someone else drive me.)
Off to seize the day and conquer my demons! Wish me well.
— Lady C, whose mood is blue to match her eyes