Thursday, September 20, 2007

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Against my better judgment, I have not actually run away from home. I’m still here. I’m just having a really rotten week. You know, one of those weeks where no matter how simple you try to make your day, it somehow ends up being a huge knotted mess? And there are no clean dishes in the entire house? The kind of week where you forget to make a phone call and it ends up costing you $200 for a missed appointment?

That kind of week.

Also, I got the official summary from the speech therapist today. It wasn’t surprising, and yet at the same time it kind of was. She rates Captain Adventure at about fifteen to seventeen months for his speech and language skills, but up to a staggering five years old for his cognitive skills.

Brilliant, but silent. Acutely aware, but locked inside his own mind. I take comfort in the great strides he’s already made in communication, but at the same time thinking about him being essentially still at an infant level when he “should” be potty training and arguing with me about colors makes me feel like cashing out my hand and letting somebody more qualified take over the mommy gig – while I buy myself a trashed-out Westy and go off in search of the perfect wave.

Anyway, he is in like Flynn for the special needs programs; we have a date set for the in-home evaluation and after that we’ll have the Final Word on what we do next. Might just be thrice-weekly speech therapy sessions in a one-on-one setting, or it might be full immersion into a three hour daily special-needs preschool.

Hurry up, and wait.

Again.

I had to tear out the raglan sweater and start over, and! I think I have a cold coming on.

It’s just not a good week around here, I’m telling ya. Mars is messing with my karma or something, I dunno. I’m just walking around with a little black cloud of chaos and disaster hanging over me. Everything I put my hand to goes awry right now. And everything I don’t put my hand to pokes me in the middle of the night and says, “Pssst! Hey! Over here! You didn’t {clean me, put me away, deal with me, answer me, fix me}!”

Also, my children are making me a crazy person. Sure, I usually get tired by the end of the day and start wishing they’d just shaddup and go to bed already, but this week has been more like, “The minute they get out of bed, I wish they were in boarding school somewhere far, far away.”

Their little voices are like fingernails on chalkboard, and the way they constantly seek me out (no matter how cleverly I hide) for interaction is rubbing my psyche raw.

You know that old saying, “When momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy”?

It is actually a terrible, terrible curse. My mood affects the entire household. When I get pissy, Lord have mercy, we are ALL pissy. When I am depressed, the whole household spins out of control. Even when I am working my butt off to keep my mood from spilling over onto my Denizens, they sense the underlying turmoil and start kicking at their tresses.

It’s enough to make a saint swear.

And I ain’t no saint.

ANYWAY. It is now getting late and my house looks like a @*&^@ing cesspool. But I’m tired, and I don’t think I’m going to even tidy up the kitchen tonight.

In fact, I think I’m going to leave everything right where it is currently lying and go to bed. Deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.

It’s just been that kind of week around here. I don’t know that tomorrow will somehow magically be better…but I do know that eventually, for no apparent reason, one of these tomorrows will just be better.

Life is like that. At least, it is for me. A constant stream of ups, downs, and in-the-middles. Sometimes there are reasons, sometimes there aren’t; or there are, but you just can’t grasp what they are – hormones or biorhythms or who knows what.

All I know is, what goes up must come down and vice versa. I come to the end of my rope only to find I’m back at the beginning of it.

So when I get to the end and think I’m sliding off – I just tie a knot and hang on. Wait for tomorrow, no matter what I think it’s going to be like…because while it might be just as bad as today, it might also be that other tomorrow, when things start going the way I want again.

It just might be that way, tomorrow. At some point, it will be – so why not tomorrow? No matter how bad today was, tomorrow has the potential to be that tomorrow, when it all turns around and I can feel powerful and accomplished again. And if I look forward to every tomorrow, if I get out of bed and give every tomorrow the chance to BE that tomorrow, well. It's more likely to come true, yes?

Yes. The glass of milk Captain Adventure spilled into the sofa tonight was indeed half full, why do you ask?

12 comments:

Rabbitch said...

I'm becoming even more certain that you're me.

Joan said...

Ah, the good times. I remember them well, and am living proof that you will survive.

Bicarbonate on milk stains will get the cheesy smell right out. Possibly the best advice my mother in law ever gave me.

Courage!

Kris said...

With CA's separation anxiety issues, hopefully they will start with the in-home therapy for him. How much would he get out of pre-school if he is stressing over not being with you. Maybe once his speech has improved a bit he will be more comfortable in an unfamiliar setting knowing that he will be able to tell his teachers what he needs.

Hang in there

ccr in MA said...

One of these tomorrows *will* be better. You're a smart woman to realize that, as you swing at the end of your rope.

sleepycat said...

creeps in it's petty pace from day to day till the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays but lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle. . . . or something like that.

I still remember having to memorize that in high school senior year English class.

Yarnhog said...

Moms ought to have understudies. That way, when Mom needs a break, someone already trained and champing at the bit would be ready to step in and take over.

Steph B said...

Methinks you need a hug and a big cup of coffee. Keep tying those knots, lady!

Beth in WI said...

Ah, that's what I meant to say in my post today before Wordpress ate it twice. Or disregarded it. Or whatever. Now I feel better that we're splitting the bad juju, because I don't think either of us could handle double what we have.

Keep passing the open windows.

Amy Lane said...

Captain Adventure will always live up to his name, of that I am sure...

And I know those moods...what you need is an adult to fight with, and what you get are grunion that you try not to yell at...very frustrating...

Kristin said...

Clean the kitchen tonight, that way today's mess won't be messing up tomorrow.

It is wise advice though I rarely take it.

Yarnhog is on to something with that understudy thing.

HDW said...

I have nothing to say to you that hasn't already been said. But I am with you, and I hope yarn hog figures the understudy thing out..........cause right now I am in the "life is a poop sandwich, and every day is a bigger bite phase still, and am sick of the cloud looming over head! Bah. This to shall pass right?

terena said...

This is the worlds biggest hug, all for you.

love you,
your sister