The only reason I'm even awake is that I'm flying high on steroids for the "neck inflammation."
Steroids. The most wonderful invention. The most horrible invention. I pray I can finish the dose pack. The hot flashes, and sleep sweats are annoying but I have been there done that before. I can do this. Especially knowing this flashing will only last about 7 days and not 7 years. It's the fact that I am overcome with physical exhaustion but unable to rest that is making me mental.
In the midst of the insanity of a way too complicated life, hot flashes, messy house, and palmetto bugs in the garage the size of otters there are also glimpses of mirages. I grew up in the west seeing plenty of mirages. I was impressed as a child when my father explained their mysteries. Promise. Beauty. Momentary happiness. Distraction from hot, sweaty misery.
Ok. So you are still surrounded by barren wasteland but for a moment it wasn't too bad when your eyes were focused on something else.
We encounter mirages every day. It's just hard to see them at times. Sometimes they are a fleeting glimpse before they vanish on the horizon. But they are there. Every day.
Mrs. M called me yesterday having just received the note regarding the medieval festivities scheduled for school. The note went home a week ago but Mrs. M's teenage daughter does not deem these notes of much importance. What thrift store could she go to quickly to whip up a Renaissance costume for her note-losing child?
Uh Oh. I received the note from The Boy last week but I forgot all about it. After hanging up with Mrs. M I quickly called my neighbor Brasilia.
"Do you have a Renaissance costume I can borrow for The Boy?"
"I believe I do."
Why was I surprised? Brasilia has every thing.
We ended up with two velvet dresses, a ladies hat with flowing scarves attached, a horn that made farting noises much to The Boy's delight and a very interesting gold belt. I explained to The Boy that even though it was a girls dress if we put his black school belt on, pulled the dress up and over the belt it would give the dress a masculine blousy effect. He could wear my black knee highs which would give the appearance of Renaissance tights. Since the gold belt was too big we could drape it across the shoulder and hook it at his waste adding a little pizazz to his tunic. Obviously I watch too much Project Runway.
What? NO! You can't wear that hat. It's a girls hat. It's too feminine with the long flowing scarves on either side! And if you blow that horn in my face one more time I'm going to wrap it around your neck!
"But I like the hat." he says twirling, leaping and spinning past me. Add parenting of farting cross dresser to my list of challenges.
Eventually, and much to my relief, he accidentally ripped one of the scarves off so it was easy for me to accidentally rip off the other one creating a fairly masculine and symmetrical "bishops hat."
And then...Mirage #2
My third client of the day cancels. I can ALWAYS count on my clients to cancel or not be home. It's the nature of the job. But this very young mom never cancels and is always faithful in keeping her appointments. I was a little blue knowing I wouldn't be able to attend the festivities at school.
When the mom called me to cancel I told her I could hug her and raced to the school.
Getting to spend time with Mrs. M always inspires me.
She dressed in wench garb for the festival explaining that she had a navy blue tank over her white peasant blouse because her white bras were still stuck in the camper that broke down on the side of the highway over the weekend. She had spent 6 hours in the camper with a puppy who behaved and two special needs children who did not. The note forgetting teen suggested they should be on the tv show I Survived but Mrs. M explained patiently that being stranded in an air-conditioned camper with a refrigerator full of snacks and cold drinks would not qualify the family.
In addition to her peasant blouse, Mrs M wore a floor length skirt which she "gardens in" and demonstrated its efficiency by hoisting up the front hem to wipe her brow. I was impressed.
Since there were very few parents at the fair Mrs. M and I
I had fun with the "lance toss"' (pool noodles through hula hoops) but Mrs. M got stuck in the baking sun supervising the shooting of dragons with ping pong balls and making sure none of the children missed the shot taking out someone's eye instead. Occasionally I glanced over at her feeling quiet guilty that i was in the shade under a roofed area. She was hoisting her skirt and mopping a lot.
"How come you got the shade game?" she snarled at me.
As always I was impressed by this extraordinary school that The Boy attends and his teacher Mrs. Needs-To-Be-Canonized. I mentioned to him at dinner tonight that I wanted him to be very kind to Mrs. Needs-To-Be Canonized because she was a very special person.
"She gets mad sometimes," he says.
Mad? Child puh-leeeeze. After 5 minutes with your class shooting Styrofoam noodles at my head in the desert heat while you blew the fart horn in my face and put headless grasshoppers down my back I was ready to hang myself from the hula hoop attached to the rafters.
Mirage # 4
Tonight The Teenager got The Baby's bed ready, fluffing pillows, laying out pj's, bath towel and clean diaper. A chore she had taken on herself with great delight lately. I told her I would get the towel down as she was short and the rack was too high for her to reach.
"Well, I may be short but I am family," she smiles.
Melt my heart.
So now it's off to the paperwork...
Lily Tomlin said, "the trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat."
I agree completely but that shouldn't stop us from enjoying a few nibbles of cheese along the way. Sometimes we just need to put a little effort into searching for them.