Okay, since I have been home with the flu for the last 3 days it has given me some time to really absorb, reflect and processes the last few weeks, and I this is what I came up with: First: Holy Shit! Second: Work is not that important, your partner, yourself, your home and your loved ones should always have priority. Why I went tootin' off to work the morning after the break in was beyond me. I felt like I absolutely had to be at work or else. That was stupid. I should have been at home remarking my territory, and I don't mean re-dookeyin' on the chair, just spending time, exorcising that spirit of fear. I noticed that I flew in from work, and just headed straight downstairs. Would not eat or hang out at the table like I usually did, all kitchen cooking stopped and we ate out. Typical response I'm sure, but clueless here thought she had a handle on everything and focused so hard on work as a distraction that I literally wore myself out and Mr. Flu paid a whopping visit this week.
So ummm. yeah. I hope I'm back on track. I have spent this time, knitting, painting, watching every Austen and Bronte movie I could find on netflix and enjoying my upstairs again. I even sat in the new chair in the dookey place (as it has been renamed) at the table for a full minute and said out loud, "You have no power over me mother fucker!! You come into MY house and dump on the chair. Oh please, we had foster kids. They could paint murals with their poo. And good ones too. You just put your shit on a pedestal. Not impressive at all." Hell, next thing you know I will be looking at my Va-Jay Jay with a hand mirror and growing out my pit hair.
Anyway, I have discovered I'm still trying to find that balance of not having kids in the house any more. It's been three years, you'd think I would have it figured out by now. But apparently I have been too busy distracting myself with work...and looking back on my blogs, I was fully aware of that fact, just helpless and unwilling to do anything about it. I think that kind of clicked finally while we were sitting at a table for "Showcase" an awards presentation banquet for our university. The "So do you have kids?" question circulated around the table and I simply said "No", but then launched into what was probably an overly hyper and super insecure soliloquy about how my student's are like my kids and my work. Paaaa-thetic. It's amazing how this infertility issue keeps me under it's thumb and Im 41!!! So to "fit in" I find myself saying things in family conversation's like "Well our 16 year old...." or "I know! Our 5 year old..." like the foster kids we did have 3 years ago were and still are our actual children. There are days when I wish we had never done foster care because of the gaping hole it left in our hearts when we quit after having to say goodbye too many times to kids who could never be ours, but mostly I am ever so thankful to have done it, not only for their lives sake, but it did give me a chance to be a mom.
After they left, our quiet house and all it's happy foster parenting memories were all we had. And we love our house. But after dookey-boy, it seemed like that was taken from us too and I fell into despair. Luckily, after some reality checks and laughter over some coffee with friends I'm putting my "Shit Magnet" stupor-hero costume in the closet for good. So as much as it sucks to be home snotting all over the keyboard and waking up in a cough syrup induced haze surrounded by Kleenex in the bed, maybe this was God's way of telling me to just stop......everything, breathe, and re-prioritize.
For real's this time. For real's.
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