Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is
dragging this week, my blogfriends. Her get-up-and-go done got-up-and-went. Her
candle is burning at all three ends. Her wagon is draggin’. Life is kicking her
butt. She feels like Sisyphus.
Something’s gotta
give. Like my best ol’ ex-teaching buddy, Mabel, says…”You have to take care of
yourself. Because if you don’t, you can’t take care of anyone else.”
I am that chicken with
its head cut off, and I am trying to find my head. Newmentia is draining me 2/7
of the day. Then I’m off to visit Mom at her rehab. That's 40 minutes of drive
time to get there, spend an hour, and drive 40 minutes home. Then it’s dark,
and I have to warm up some food in the oven or heat it in the microwave. Which
creates dirty dishes for my dishwashers, aka HANDS. Then I might be able to
steal a little computer time. Once I sit down in my blue recliner, I am tired
to the bone, and generally fall asleep in front of the big screen. I did not
even finish watching last week’s Kate Plus Eight, and now it’s time for a new
episode.
I’ve been dealing with
an attorney concerning Mom’s situation. Her facility is ready to kick her to
the curb with her belongings in a red bandana tied to a broom handle, because
they can’t keep her while she does follow-up radiation since her skin lesion
removal. That’s because they would have to pick up the bill for radiation. We
don’t know what we’re going to do with her. Sis says the facility is trying to
find a way to keep her if she pays for her stay, and lets her insurance pick up
the medical tab. They will have a meeting Wednesday.
It's tax time, you know. And I just got an email from the #1 son's college that billing statements are out. According to #1, we are getting a refund. I suppose the check is in the mail. Oh, and here's another email from college. It's time for the FAFSA.
One set of my students is entering the world of science projects, and the others are being prepped for the upcoming EOC exams and the new mandatory ACT. The Pony is in the heart of Scholar Bowl season, and needs a ride home anywhere from 7:00 p.m to 8:30 p.m. on competition days. Which makes for a 13-hour day at school for me.
In the meantime...is a snow day too much to ask?
No. One is not too much. And with our district, three is not too much. (We have three days built in that have not been gobbled up with other "things." I want all 3 of those days.)
ReplyDeleteI know how you feel the entire summer was like that for me ..... and I ended up with Shingles. My nurse practitioner says the stress I was under is the most important contributing factor to my ailment (I swear it was that flu shot). Be careful and take some time for you!
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteI want your three days. I'll thumb-wrestle you for them. Two out three. And if I lose, I'll leg-wrestle you for them. I believe I'm undefeated.
****
Kathy,
I am trying to stop thinking two steps ahead. Just take each day as it comes, and enjoy Mom as she is.
Unfortunately, I'm the main juggler in this circus, and I'm afraid of dropping the ball. Thank goodness my sister is currently the ringmaster. She is good at directing everyone under the Big Top.