Friday, March 8, 2013


There is a child in all of us. No kidding! (Pun intended.) Some days, like today, when there are 10 inches of snow on the ground, I can't decide whether I should go jump and roll around in the snow with my dog or cozy up inside and tend to my wounded self (the parts of me that are really in physical pain).

Unfortunately, the decision is made for me because of my aching body from a Lupus flare and fibromyalgia and just plain fatigue. The cold, wet snow would be torturous. *Sigh* I want one of the three housekeepers we had as a child to come read me stories and make me Campbells chicken noodle soup with Saltine crackers and rub my back. I want to watch I Love Lucy re-runs. I want to suck my thumb.

Instead, we do like Erma Bombeck once said: Good mothers (who do not act like kids) wake up bruised and battered and bone-tired, but still get up and do what has to be done for the children. Yeah, we do. I do. My own mother couldn't. Oh well...

But I'm coming upon a milestone myself. My oldest son is moving out soon. He's more than ready and, honestly, I thought I was, too. He returned from his first business trip yesterday and was quite the professional describing what had transpired during the two days he spent at a company-sponsored conference in faraway Florida. I know he is well-respected and liked among his peers and his bosses are incredibly pleased with him, too.  He is kind to those he works among and he is continually complimented for how he conducts himself. This makes me very proud.

Last evening, however, after a tantrum of sorts thrown by both of us, we came to a realization that I'm starting to suffer from 'empty nest' syndrome and he is reverting to babyish actions to make sure Mommy will always be around for him even when he's moved to the big, bad city. Of course I will. And of course we will move through this transition like we've gone through so many others; hopefully not kicking and screaming like children the whole time.

*Sigh.* So maybe that's why I feel crummy today and want some hand-holding; some extra hugs. Maybe that's why I love hanging around with one of my best friend's two-year-old daughters. Maybe that's why I am irritated and uncomfortable. I can't have it both ways. My son taught me that.

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Once again, thank you to everyone for all your support. I am happy to say that my memoir will soon be available on Amazon and I will be most thrilled to make the announcement later this year. In it you will learn why I relied on housekeepers more than my mother; why I believe with all my heart that childhood maltreatment is linked to adult physical illness; and why this little girl grew up as a spectator and continues to 'report' on the goings on around her. 

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