First thing, just because it really bugs me.
Running more than one house is harder than it looks.
Oh, it looks all ooooh! Ahhh! A house at the beach! A boat! AN RV!! WOW, are you lucky!!!
Then there’s the reality of it all.
I have six tubs of butter at the beach; none at home.
Then everything at the boat and beach has to be stored in ziplocks, lest they get all soggy.
And there are some things I can buy here that I can’t buy there, so there’s that.
(Hey! That is an important point!)
So then every week, I have to do the rotation thing, plus I keep super emergency stuff in my car, just in case we have to leave in the middle of the night; flee, as it were, to Prescott. We get cranky if we don’t eat and I’ve done the Chez Chevron more times than I care to count. At least the stuff I keep in my emergency kit is healthy. (And it has to be rotated, too.)
And then there’s the towels and bedding and dishes and crock pots…thank goodness I keep all the traveling stuff in the same colors, or I would lose my mind. I think it would be easier if I wasn’t so picky and have the expectation of my life looking a certain way. For one small example…I forgot to take the little kitchen table I bought specifically for the beach, so we had to eat like savages.
All this pickiness just makes me tired…but it is part of my wee charm.
And the other part of my whining?
I think I’ll just call Keri. She will get this and save the rest of you from my rantings.
Of which there are many.
I have major problems in my family, too.
Life stopping anxiety.
An aneurysm in my heart and in my brain.
I’ve buried my sister and miss her every day of my life.
I had my baby by myself-something no one should be asked to do. Ever.
Just to name a few of them that pop up on the list with great frequency.
But they are just givens. I can’t do anything about them except to love the people with them.
I don’t pity them, because that is just the hand they were dealt. *Okay…the aneurysms? Scare the heck out of me,. The fixes involve needles and hospitals and a complete loss of autonomy.)
But God knows, I don’t worry about them, since that’s just the way it is. I’m sure he has some plan, I just hope it is quick and painless for everyone concerned,
This stuff scares me, but then so does my job. I didn’t sign up for ANY of this. I signed up for teaching two years of kindergarten, having one faithful husband, two kids and being a PTA mom. Church every Sunday. Play the piano for Sacrament meetings. Bake bread on Tuesdays,
But when that didn’t work out for me, I made the best out of what I did have.
I have great kids. Great friends. Great husband. Wonderful brother I can tell anything to.
Super oldest daughter who has a hunky husband and great future adults.
I love to knit. I’m as happy with new sock yarn as I am with diamond earrings.
My favorite saying? “It’s not good, it’s not bad, it just is.”
We don’t waste a lot of time weeping and wailing because how useful is that? Tried it and it simply is not productive nor does it make me feel one whit better. Well, except for crying over country western songs on the way to work. I think that is useful.
So the only things I actually whine about are things I have some sort of control over. And the color of my towels and the kind of soup in my cupboard may sound childish, but compared to other chunks of my life, they are important to me.
And Anonymous? As hideous as my problems are, as many thousands of hours I have sat in hospitals, waiting for a cancer surgeon to come talk to me. to wait for an ambulance to take a suicidal teen taken away? Having an orderly drag me off around the corner and tell me to suck it up because all of my weeping and wailing wasn’t doing my Da one bit of good and was just the tiniest bit selfish? Being personally scared to death for myself after a particularly painful and invasive procedure? I’ve earned my life-all of it.
I’ll keep my problems. They may not be much, but they belong to the people I love.