I haven't written anything about post menopausal life in a long time, have I? I probably shouldn't attempt writing about it tonite because I. am. in. a. very. foul. mood.
And I don't even know why, really.
I'm a fabulous multi-tasker. I don't think I'd have any problems whatsoever being a CEO for some huge corporation. My mind is quite often on the next task while I'm performing a current task while juggling the results of the last task while fielding a million "Why, Ahma?" queries while giving instructions to Dylan on how to play a computer game while I'm remembering this, that, and the next thing that's been asked for me to do during a day. And most of the time I do all this with good grace.
Then there are days like today. It was stormy outside. Dylan was sick and feverish. Cooper was asking a million times if we could go for a walk. They took naps, which was peaceful for a while. The afternoon was unremarkable. Then the boys went home. And suddenly I'm thinking about this weekend. I'm leaving tomorrow with the boys to go home with them to care for them over the weekend while my son and daughter-in-law fly out-of-town. I won't be coming home until Monday morning...they'll be flying in rather late Sunday evening. I haven't packed anything for myself yet. I haven't given the first thought to food for myself, either. And then Dear Hubby asked me, "What am I going to have for dinner while you're gone?" And I'm thinking, "I. Don't. Know." He's going hunting...I'd figured on those meals only when I went grocery shopping last Saturday. And that was a hurried affair because I was meeting my bloggy friend Simone on the other side of town at 9 for breakfast and I was distracted and I didn't even think of Thursday and Friday nite meals. I told him to go buy a Subway. But then I dug around in the freezer and found a roast which I now have thawing and he can have sandwiches. I'm going to be too busy to worry about it.
My daughter will read this and say, "Oh, here she goes. Another one of her "no one will help" me rants." No, that's not it at all. Sometimes I just become so overwhelmed with too much to juggle and organize and keep afloat. Too many requests and questions from too many directions at once. I mean, I seem to be perfectly capable of taking care of my own needs. Am I dense to think that others should be capable of taking care of their own, too?
There's something about reaching a little past middle age, when your body is beginning to say "Gimme a break". When the natural inclination is to slooooooooooooow down a little bit. I must admit for a woman who's almost 57 I have an amazing amount of energy but even I can feel Father Time tugging at me a little more all the time. I can feel myself asking, "When will MY time come around?" When I can be a little more selfish and not feel guilty about claiming a little more of my life for myself. I see myself following a pattern here...I keep saying "little". A little time, a little more selfish, a little more life. Why do I always feel I deserve only a 'little' portion of this, a little portion of that? Do I really see my claim on the world so insignificant? That my needs are any less than anyone elses?
Oh, I dunno.
I'm in a very foul mood.