this is one of the tough ones right? in the middle. the middle ages. middle aged. oh, don't tell me i'm not middle aged at almost 42. you know i am. come on. 42 plus 42 equals 8fucking4. right?
so in the middle, taking care of the kids, hoping against all hope they make it.
in the middle, watching our parents age, struggle, refuse help.
wondering -- are these the good years? the great years?
yeah, i know i was all morose and creepy yesterday. i'm a little not that much like that today.
my youngest stayed home with a cough/congestion and we are endlessly reading animal books in between me working.
my poor mother-in-law, who would not at all be pleased i was blogging about her, tried to drive herself to a doctors appointment 90 minutes from her house. she is recovering from knee replacement surgery and is having a horrible week, lots of pain, doesn't want to ask for help. i think she's hit a wall this week, feeling completely alone, her husband dead three years, and struggling through this recovery that is probably more than she thought it would be. she sounds bright and forced on the phone and i know she is near tears. we're doing what we can, what we should, and what she'll let us.
it's sunny and in the 60s today -- or will be. i can go wander around the backyard and check on my spinach, parsley, cilantro and lettuce i planted a few weeks ago. i can get the mail and check on all the pansies i planted in january that have somehow survived and are starting to look like something.
it's not all bad, it's mostly good. but i wish i could get at that little nagging part of me that won't let go -- telling me to not forget myself.
oh, that's it isn't it. that's the trick. taking care of all of them and not forgetting myself. that's where i'm headed, that's what i'm trying to do. at least for today.