Some things are inexplicable. I am in a reflective mood right now; perhaps a malingering sensation caused by the thunder storms that are sweeping through the region. My sleep has been sketchy and I am fidgety and my thoughts are skittering from topic to topic like a Mexican jumping bean.
My Usually Lovely Husband hates it when I get in these moods because he has no idea what to expect next so he has escaped from the house to go be a professional and I am left alone with a racing brain and aching neck. Which is where this thought process started. My aching neck. I dare you to try to follow my next three minutes of diatribe.
My aching neck.
Why is my neck so frigging painful? How many Advil/Aleve can a person take in one day? I better google that. Why can’t the massage place get me in until Saturday? Why was there only one appointment available on Saturday? Is that person a shitty massage therapist and no one else would take her so that is why that appointment is open? Maybe I should cancel. No my neck may completely freeze up and I will look like Frankenstein’s younger sister.
(Brief pause while I locate other person in house.)
I asked the youngest prodigal son if I was turtling. He looked at me critically, squinted his eyes and replied, “I don’t think so. Hard to tell with all your hair.”
Maybe I should cut my hair off. Would that make my neck hurt less? It might make my hot flashes less sweltering.
Where did I see that STUPID article about how women over 50 should have short hair, wear neutral colored polish on their hands and toes, never wear white, never wear sleeveless clothes and should have hem lines no higher than the knee? Pfft. I believe I read that bit of trivia the same week I let my hair go longer and got bright blue toenail polish at the nail salon. That author was mindless. Gratuitous writing! Imagine that.
Speaking of bad fashion, who decided rompers should be back in style? Now that is one fad that women over 50 should really avoid. Small children should be wearing rompers with their little diapers hanging out the side. That is cute. Teen girls seem to be wearing rompers with just bare rears hanging out the side.
I am glad I birthed boys.
Baggy sweats with boxers hanging out the top are not attractive, but at least they don’t look like runway models when they leave the house.
Sigh. The oldest boy is heading back to university next Tuesday. I really have enjoyed having him around this summer. Other than the smell in his room, the crazy amount of money I have spent on groceries, the amazing amount of laundry that piles up, the twenty glasses left on the kitchen counter every day and the fiery arguments regarding budgeting money it has been a seamless summer with him. Mommy melancholy is setting in.
Will I ever not get weepy when he leaves for school?
He’s only six hours away.
Six hours is a continent. I am getting weepy.
Sigh. The youngest boy is going to be a senior in high school this year.
Gak! College applications. Oh dear. He will be leaving the nest next year too.
My neck hurts.
My baby is in his senior year of high school. I cannot believe we are at this milestone. What would we do without all those incredible teachers who have taught my kiddos over the years? Why is it that our district is one of the lowest paid districts in the state? Why do teachers not make as much as executives? They work the same amount of hours as all the techies at Amazon and Microsoft. Overall the dedication and grit that teachers have is pretty amazing! A job of fortitude and compassion.
I could never be a teacher.
I have to hold my breath when I get in a car with three teen boys. Can you imagine what classrooms must smell like on a daily basis? Teachers should get paid zillions of dollars in combat pay based on that fact alone.
Why don’t we pay teachers more?
Seriously, when you teach the elementary years you are wiping noses and holding hands and when you teach in the high school years you are still wiping noses and holding hands. That is a lot of Kleenex.
Dang it, I need to buy Kleenex next time I go to Costco.
At least when the oldest goes back to school my Costco bills will seriously diminish. How does one 21 year old male eat that much lunch meat and bread? How can he eat that much and maintain his size and I eat two pieces of toast and get a tummy roll and am sentenced to wear cap sleeves to hide my arm waddle?
Sniff. Sniff. I am going to miss the sound of two a.m. refrigerator raids next week. Buy more Kleenex before next Tuesday.
How does someone with hair like Donald Trump get taken seriously? Okay, there is that one evil teacher who looks like a flamingo, but most teachers have good hair and noble intentions. They need to earn a real salary. I worry. I must stop thinking about political future of the country. That will not help the pain in my neck.
Why is Billy Joel’s “Only The Good Die Young” song stuck in my head? Could there be a more maudlin song to have trapped in my head as my son yells “Bye Mom” and heads out the door with friends during a thunderstorm and I think about my other son heading back to his junior year at University? No. There could not.
Need new music. Stat.
Okay, now stuck with “Sing Us a Song You’re the Piano Man” In my head. Is this any better? Could be worse. Could be Neil Diamond.
Senior year of high school. So many things to get done. Need to get geriatric dog to hold out at least one more month. Need to complete PreK through 12th grade photo gallery compilation of first day of school with youngest son hugging his dog goodbye. Must turn mind completely away from this subject matter. There are not enough tissues in the house.
Seriously, these thunderstorms need to just stop because my brain activity needs to slow down. Admittedly sometimes I just get in a tailspin without the kinetic energy of thunder and lightening but I like to have an excuse for whirling thoughts.
At least the dog is deaf now so the thunderstorms are not scaring the fluff out of him. And I hope the cat doesn’t find anything too nasty under the boy’s beds where she has buried herself during all this. She must be pretty desperate to go under there.
I need to go make brownies before the power goes out.
Maybe brownies will make my neck feel better.
PS — Let’s pay our teachers more, value our educators, be kind to one another, revel in the thunderstorms and appreciate old dogs and stinky kids. Feel free to email firstname.lastname@example.org if you live in my area (or if you feel teachers need fair pay and wages) and voice your concerns about our educators receiving higher wages so we can retain quality teachers in our schools.
PPS – and go ahead and eat the brownie. Arm waddle be damned.