Monday Again!

I pretty well exhausted my capacity for Completely Positive Blogging on Friday; sorry, I just don't have it in me to do the perky soccer mom bit for long, at not without large amounts of some kind of mind-altering-or is it mood altering?-substance on board. So sorry, I am sure it is a let down for y'all.

I got stung by a wasp this morning. In a very, very personal place. Or close to a personal place. See, I like to use the clothesline to dry my clothes, but forgot until this morning that the Capris I wanted to wear (because they make my ass look cute) were still on the line. In rather a hurry to get out to the clothesline and get the pants before the neighbors saw me (I was in my undies), I just grabbed them off the line and put them on right there on the lawn. And woke up a very large wasp; clearly, they aren't morning creatures, because the fucker stung me-twice. I now have two big welts right by my hoo-ha, where the leg bends when you walk, or sit, or move at all. In pain and slightly panicked, where was a brief moment or six when I was sure I couldn't breathe and that I was having an allergic reaction and that I would go into anaphylactic shock and be dead before any of the kids even realized I wasn't back in the house, but then at the last minute I realized that I was short of breath because I was still holding my lit cigarette (notice I wasn't panicked enough to drop THAT!) and the smoke was swirling around me like a small fog. Whew. What a relief. I think.

It was a nice end to a rather eventful weekend. See, we went to spend the night with my niece and have this cool family cookout thing at a place called Balanced Rock. And it WAS fun, all things considered. Sometimes when my family gets together, though, it is something of a comedy of errors, and this was one of those times. It began when I found out that Owen gets carsick. The puke involved with getting carsick smells WAY different than the puke that comes with being sick, and I am sure glad we were almost there because I was totally sympathy-gagging. And it just got better.

We got down to the place where we were cooking, and My niece's husband thought it would be fun to try to teach my 15 year old daughter how to drive a stick-shift. I think she made it about 10 yards before she hit panicked, hit the gas instead of the clutch, and hit the little picnic shelter. Thankfully not the one we were in, because she hit it hard. Hard enough to actually push the table up into Shae's front bumper, splintering the table (of course), and also pulling the metal bench posts out of the concrete floor. Nice. I was also up for Mom of the Year award up until that moment, because I totally lost ALL my points when I told her that...well. Never mind what I told her, it was ugly, and I still feel like shit about it. I was later able to give her comfort and love and concern, as well as be completely grateful that nobody was hurt; everyone there had some bad car story to tell her, so it wasn't as if she was alone in having done something so stupid. Still, it really is a big deal, $$ wise-a big deal in that I don't HAVE any.

But hey, we dealt, and went on to have a great time. Nobody fell into the fire, Owen actually ate and swallowed a bite of turkey (we deep fried a turkey) before he realized that it was actually flesh, and when my oldest sister flashed her beautiful, obviously expensive engagement ring, I was actually able to tell her I was happy for her and almost mean it. That is progress. I AM happy for her-I am just jealous as heel that everyone around me is getting married and I can't get a fucking date. You know.

It's funny how when one thing goes wrong, it just keeps coming. We got the Shae and Kat's house and there was no power, so we were all scurrying around looking for the lanterns and O. was kind of wandering around in the dark crying...thankfully, I happened to have a propane lantern in the Blazer, and Shae had one as well, so we had lights finally. No heat or water (they have a well), but light. Then I woke up in the middle of the night to hear Sam wheezing like mad, his lips pale-and no inhaler to be found. I sat up with him in the cold air outside for awhile until his wheezing got better, and it was actually kind of nice to be up with him in the middle of the night with no one around. See, he had been holding a grudge because on Friday, he was performing in a Cinco de Mayo program at school (he got chosen to play a real part), but I had to miss it due to a staff meeting here at the damn job, and he was hurt and really hadn't spoken much to me. We didn't talk about it then, either, because he understand that there are times when the job just has to come first, but it still hurt his feelings. At any rate, we sat outside for awhile and just looked at the stars and cuddled, and he felt better.

And I felt better. I have been under a certain amount of strain lately, strain that I thought my vacation would help with, and it is always there. These things happen, like an accident or an illness or a missed school program, and I am immediately thrust back into the stomach-knotting anxiety of wondering just how it is that I am supposed to do this, to be okay with who I am and where I am at. It is frightening, almost all of the time, because it will only take one thing of not-even-major proportion to put us literally on the street. I lose a lot of sleep worrying about things like the fact that I have tow birthdays coming up within two days-Sam and Owen-and have to decide whether to pay the phone bill or buy presents. I worry about so much, all of the time, and walk around with an underlying feeling of dread. I DO have a good life, and am not diminishing that in any way; there are lots of good things and good people in my life, and I AM grateful and fairly content. But. Yep, there is always a but.

All in all, though, I can look back at the events of the weekend, the things that went wrong AND the things that went right, and still feel like I am coming out ahead. These things, well, we will look at them later and laugh, even the accident, even the wasp sting. Some of it, like the hurt Sam felt, aren't going to be forgotten, but neither is he going to be scarred for life. I hope. All in all, life is pretty funny, and beautiful, and certainly NOT boring~!