Hot dog

Hot dog, in the sense that there are big things afoot.  Things like my stress level...

I have decided I need a caregiver for me in the evenings for a while because it took all my get-up-and-go to drag my sorry a** up from a non-sleeping nap after church to figure out what to get for dinner.  Ended up boiling some literal hot dogs, cutting up apple and finishing the baby carrots.  I was very proud of myself for getting that together.  I just wish I could figure out how that tiny event turned into a mountain of dishes spilling over the top of my sink!  I mean, it was just hot dogs and an apple for goodness sake...

John wants a wheel chair.  And to shave his head and be like Professor Xavier.  Which seems right to me.  And friends will let us use their RV for a cross country road trip and now we are going to try to fundraise for gas and other things along the way.  That is normal, too, right?  Even though he needs help getting socks on, and falls an average of at least once a day...Ach, we never played much with normal anyway...it is over rated...

I feel like I am wearing a hat that is invisible, but projects nightmares that never end.  But the only way to keep them somewhat under control is to find a way to laugh and smile.  But also to be quiet.  John is so much more positive and hopeful than me, that I find solace in not saying anything.  I want his dreams to be reasonable.  I don't want to argue for more rational ones.

All I want to do is sleep but I am afraid to sleep because that brings us one step closer to the sh*t storm on the horizon.  The pirate ship Cancer that has attack and plundered my hopes and dreams.  And I cannot even post a picture of the bum who instigated it all to throw darts at, since Cancer doesn't wear a regular face.

Soooo, the other thing I am wrestling with is the idea of finding a way to make it through the day teaching.  Without crying in front of my second graders.  They deserve the best of me and I have to dig deep to find that right now.  Times like these, I really wish I had a less intensively hands on job.  I could cry in front of a bunch of widgets or a computer screen for a while and get over it and move on, but it does  not really work that way with 7 year olds.  Of course, my love for them and their high level of need may be the only thing to get me through the day...

Thank you, void filled with a few friendly faces, for listening tonight.  I feel a little better after sending this out there.  Now I want to roll over and hug my man.  Wish me luck sleeping and send him healing and strength.  Also, help us keep our hotline to humor open and flowing...silliness and giggles help immensely.  (reading I Love You Forever by Robert Munsch tonight, again, we added some toots to the song the mommy sings in honor of Cilly's musical butt...good times for all!)

Be nice.  Don't judge. Hug and tell people you love them.  Because that is as good as god.