I've been a little nuts this week. I can't believe it has only been eight days and I've packed all this craziness into it. This week it's been hard to be a single mom, I've ached a little for someone to crawl into bed with at the end of the day and say, "Well, that sucked." You're probably not going to want to read this whole post because it is just one long rant about my week, but I have to write about it. I just have to spew all this stress, or I might pull out my inner gangster and then things get really bloody.
The Queenpin's Week: Play by Play
Day one: Pick up kids from school Monday. Decide I should check kids heads, since they had been exposed to lice two weeks ago. I've had about 2 hours of sleep. Check big beast and, yes, there are some white little fuckers right there on the crown of his sweet head. Call the OSQ, and ask for help. Hold my shit together while big beast has crying fit over homework and sore throat and I make dinner. Treat both kids with olive oil. Decorate freezer bags with stickers and stick on all of our heads. OSQ swoops in with wine and lice brushes. She also takes half of the laundry. I call each person the beasts stays with. My favorite reaction was the woman who takes them part of the time when I'm at school. My kids had stayed at her house that weekend, and been with her kids, I would have been freaking out, but she said, "Oh, that's okay, no big deal. Don't worry about it, Sugah. We'll be fine." God bless you, sweet girl. I couldn't add guilt to my stress. I think my head would've popped off.
Day two: Wake up to comb kids. Their hair, though washed, is still matted from olive oil treatment. Decide to keep them both home from school. Big beast, sick and nitty, little beast just oily. I have doctor's appointment to see why my side still aches from car wreck in October. Doctor orders CAT scan and chest x-ray to be done next day. Kids nit free, big beast just has a cold, not strep. Drop kids off at their dad's. Head to work, happy to be distracted by apartments and spreadsheets.
My Sweet Escape sends me a zillion texts reassuring me and bringing me back to earth. After work I go the the OSQ's for dinner, check big beast's head, find damn white sticky nits. Freak out. We treat everyone again, and stay at OSQ's overnight. I just can't deal with those fucking bugs on my own.
Day four: Don't hear from doctor. I know she has passed tests on for someone else to look at. She always calls quickly when there is nothing going on. I receive a zillion more reassuring texts from My Sweet Escape, "Don't worry, baby. You are fine. She would call quickly if there was something going on. Breath." I try to parent like I'm dying, which means be in the moment, and not yell every two seconds because I'm friggin' stressed. Have I mentioned I quit smoking? No? It's because I keep starting again.
Day five: Finally the doctor calls. No tumors, no kidney problems. It seems my small intestine has retracted like a telescope. No biggie. It will work itself out, she says. The other finding? The lining of the lungs has thickened. WTF is that from? She will order CAT scan of lungs. All is okay really, don't worry, she says. I worry. I do internet research. Bad idea. That night Sweet Escape comes over and gives me the talk, "Baby, you've got to stop worrying. What's going on in your body is because of your worry. You're missing out on life because you worry all the time. Get back to meditating." He holds me. He lets me freak out.
Single Mama Savior's for a cigarette. I dump all my freak outs on her, and she relates. How can you not worry single mama? When you're a Queenpin, you're the one in charge. I then head home for two hours of lice treatment and nit combing. I get in the car for the party looking like something the cat dragged in. While having we're drinks that night at a perfect family's house I see all these nice Christian family mags, and devotions. I start yearning for God and Buddha so deeply I decide I need to go to church. I drink too much at party, but am charming. My room at the bed and breakfast has a down comforter and a working fire place. I light a fire and crawl into bed.
Day seven: I am hung over and have not had enough sleep. We head home, de-nit again, and I send beasties to their dad's. NAP. Go to Sweet Escapes to.....well, escape.
Day eight: I am a non-smoker. I breath purely and freely. I have freaky hormonal stuff going on. I call my doctor and go in for blood work. She suggests a pregnancy test. I search Internet for medical information. Stupid, stupid, mistake. After work I pick kids up. We attempt to focus on homework, valen-friggin'-tines. I have bought two pregnancy tests to take later. Take the first test. Doesn't work. I immediately start drinking wine. I steal cigarettes of Savior Single Mama's porch. Then I start making dinner. I take the other test. Doesn't work. I continue with prescription of wine and cigarettes. I Facebook message two of my neighbors freaking out. We Can Do It Mama offers to go get me more test, but Single Mama Savior is already out. We Can Do It Mama drinks wine at her house as a show of solidarity. Miracuously I finish making dinner. I read to my beasts and put them to bed. I drink more wine. Single Mama Savior rolls in with 3 tests. "Let's take them now," she says. I pee on stick, look up in horror and say, "Holy shit, I'm pregnant!" My stomach drops into the toilet (splash) as two blue lines show up.
"Let me see that", my sweet friend says, and I hand her test dripping with pee. "No silly, it has to have a plus sign for pregnant." I am giddy with relief. We smoke and wait to make sure. She goes in mid-cigarette, to check again, and no plus sign has shown up. Praise all that is holy. I am not pregnant. I fall asleep exhausted on the couch, and wake up to beautiful Valentines from my Sweet Escape.
I am done with this week. I am done with the stress, the overdrive, the worry. Today is a new day, and my Valentines present to myself is to STOP for a few minutes, vent to my readers, and move on. I am happy, I am alive, and, man, I have such amazing people in my life. When I look back over the week, all I can see is how many times people have stepped in and stepped up to help me. If I was still married to the wusband, I would never have asked for so much help, expecting him to provide what I needed, and in reality, I would have never have received so much comfort. The wusband was good at some stuff, but comfort? He really sucked at that, and when I was in crisis with him, I was never more alone.
This week I have not felt alone, but surrounded. I have felt comforted, and cared for. I have felt nurtured. My support system has brought me back to earth when I was floating away. They have stepped in and helped me when I needed it, and given me space to figure stuff out.
Once again I awake from a week from hell and feel profound gratitude for all my peeps. The peeps mentioned here, and the ones who aren't. The ones who have given hugs and wisdom on the fly. Each person giving freely, expecting nothing in return. Today I'll go visit SheBear to get wisdom and acupuncture. Time to get my healing on. Happy Valentines Day to me, and to my goombas. You make my world go round. You hold the crown on this crazy Queenpin's head, and steady the ground beneath my feet.