While I've been sick the past two days, I ran across my blogs that I wrote when I was pregnant with each child and then when they were little. I was cracking up. Also, I ran across my blog as I upended my life as I knew it and divorced.
Each time I begin blogging again I remember that I intended to blog the whole time. To chronicle the adventures of our crazy little family that grew to be our crazy big family as I remarried and gained two bonus children... but you know what they say about good intentions and the road they pave. Apparently, however, mine pave the road to senility, but perhaps it's the same place.
I'm in a new stage of life and, as I always write to stay sane, I figured it was best to start again. It's one of the ways I take care of me and I haven't been. Plus, hitting my 50's, menopause, children fleeing, uh flying, from the nest certainly provides fodder, both comic and tragic, for any writing.
Menopause. Why do they call it that? There's no pause. It's not like this shit is coming back. We're done kids. All kinds of things are done. Periods? Done. Nice dewy skin? Done, replaced with this crepe paper I'm trying to moisturize back into some semblance of youth. Moisture ANYWHERE in the body it used to be? Forget it. Good night's sleep? Um no. Done. I wake at least twice a night to pee and then usually the brain rot sets in and I'm thinking of grocery lists and credit cards and vacations I want to take and wondering about weird shit like who gets to come up with dinosaur names. Gone is muscle tone and easy weight loss. Now it's a fight NOT to gain more than the FORTY I've already gained and somehow bring it back down. And overnight I can't get up off the floor. I'm not kidding. Like one day I could and now I can't. I'm pulling up using furniture like a toddler who's learning to stand. And what's with the hip pain? My hips hurt ALL the time!
Worst of all, any chance at clear thinking and not seeming like a senile old lady? Yeah, done. The brain fog is real. Shit, I'd better start blogging just so that maybe I can remember what the hell it is I'm here for and trying to do. Seriously, I now find myself, DAILY, standing in a room with no idea why I'm there. No clue. It's like my ADHD, but worse. At least with the ADHD, my brain was just so busy that I was often 3 steps ahead and that's why I'd set my keys down in some weird place because I always started 5 tasks at once. Not now. No... the brain fog is different. My brain isn't busy, it's just... what was I saying? who am I? it's like... Jesus, what is it like? It's like spider webs and dust and ... nothing. I'm just constantly wondering what I'm doing. I think my kids are starting to pity me. THEY know what I was doing, I just don't. I'll be standing there, in the middle of the kitchen mumbling "now what the hell was I..." and Frog will be like "MOM! You said you wanted coffee, remember?" They look horrified as they notice that this is the third time I've said I wanted coffee... but I walk in the kitchen and walk right back out again, sans coffee. I've forgotten that I put the dogs outside and go looking for them. I started the coffee pot... with no pot. That was fun. I've washed a clean dish that I JUST got out to use and put it away, only to pull it out again. I've gone back in the house for my keys and grabbed my phone instead. I recently put my jeans on backwards and my yoga pants on inside out. My husband was amused... and I think also a bit horrified. He met a thin, athletic, 41 year old who he thought was hot and looked great in jeans. Who was funny and witty and weird like him. Now he's got this nearly 52-year-old forgetful and often moody woman who apparently cannot even dress herself. It's going down hill kids. I keep telling him he'd better trade me in for a younger model.
I remember being a senior in high school and one of our teachers, Mrs. Perkins, wore her slip outside her skirt one day. She seemed so OLD. We felt so bad for her. I'M BECOMING THAT WOMAN. Jesus. I went the WHOLE DAY with my jeans on backwards. How does one even do that? I was wearing a long hoodie, so no one noticed, but then my husband did when I removed the hoodie. What in the? I don't even know where to start with that one. He asked, half laughing, half horrified "did you not notice?!" and I said, "well I thought they felt a little weird, but figured I was just bloated or something." That's it, sign me up for the funny farm. I can't imagine that it gets any better.
I'm trying to be grateful for the last little remnants of this crazy, fun family that are left, but the time is coming. Jayden is talking about moving out now that he'll be finishing up college. William left for college, but came back (that's a story for another blog), but is rarely home between work and friends. Delaney is certainly loving the freedom that comes with a car, a job and her own money as she hurtles headlong into her senior year. Frog is usually here and reminds me all the time that, due to their autism, they might be around a bit longer than their siblings, but they're often in their own room or asking to meet their friends. But the house if often empty now. The kids are ships passing in the night or the whirling part of the tornado while Jason and I sit still in the eye. So when we have a night where suddenly all or most of us are here, I grab onto in like a life raft. When we have a day like Saturday where the boys hit the lake with us to fish, I'm in heaven. But I know the letting go is healthy. I know they need to fly. I hope we can always be a safe landing spot when they need to rest, but that they feel strong enough to fly.
Of course, give it a couple years and I'll be standing in the kitchen wondering where the kids are, forgetting who does and doesn't live here... and STILL forgetting my coffee. Probably with my pants on inside out. But hey, better than no pants. I'm sure that day is coming too.
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