It is strange how I get this disorienting feeling. There are too many things for me to do. I can’t catch up. On top of it all I am bone tired and plagued with guilt. I constantly worry about smoking and I smoke. Ugh! I would feel fabulous if I could QUIT! I am trying every trick but not deciding to do it. I must take the first step. I must grow up. The advantages are limitless. The disadvantages are frighteningly scary. D is weird lately, a strange attitude, constantly challenging me, distant, testing. I don’t like it and my knee jerk action leans towards nagging. His back hurts and it makes me miserable. How can I take up all the slack from what he is not doing? Of course I look for his sympathy as I do his chores but he probably feels angry because he can’t do it. I am tired of feeling bad about D’s back. I’m tired of feeling bad. I want to feel good.
Today was Trevor’s fourth birthday! He is so grown up. He loves it. Josh is grown too. They both got spoiled rotten today. Too much stuff. Gram and Pops were here with Aunt F and the discussion predictably turned to the “good old days” when you received two toys and you appreciated them, not like these days when kids are showered with trash and don’t appreciate a thing. I was pissed at this. Do they really need to openly criticize me during a joyous event? I see the truth but I also see the hypocrisy in those words. They were the ones doing most of the showering. I give my kids what I little I can because I love them and delight in the joy and anticipation and surprise in their faces. They make sacrifices in other areas of their lives, big sacrifices other children aren't asked to make. Neither of them lives an easy life. To me they are the greatest. I indulge myself by this rare gift occasion. I realize it might be about me, huh?
I wish to write a book. I know there is one in me. I think it would take me years.
Events: Josh won a math award on June 17, 1987. He’s in the top 10% of second graders in the New England Math Olympiad. I am thrilled and proud, very proud of this tough kid. He also received a “1” for excellence in science. Hooray! I’m so pleased with his accomplishments.
Trev astounded us last week by repeating word for word a favorite book he loved to listen to, “My Visit to the Dinosaurs.” This is a book meant for second or third graders, about 30 pages long. I nearly dropped to my knees. Despite all the difficult surgeries, his bad hearing and eyesight – hallelujah! He is sharp as a tack. Tears spilled from my eyes. I never thought he was slow but felt his handicaps would make things harder for him. What a surprise! The little bugger was taking it all in, absorbing life like a sponge.
I imagine myself at a store or restaurant. The kids gather around to stare at Trev, the kid that looks different than all the others. Their mothers are overly nice. I look guiltily at pregnant women, knowing we are making them feel bad by our mere existence. I nonchalantly whip out a book and politely ask Trev to read a few pages to pass the time for us. Instantly, we are all in his thrall as he recites a gripping soliloquy from Shakespeare. Jaws drop. Misconceptions are shattered. I polish my nails on my lapel (I am well-dressed in this daydream) perhaps I toss a drop dead look over my shoulder. I take Trevor by the hand and we stroll to the car.
Phew! Is this psychotic? My imaginary life is a kinder place.