miss_swamp: (ringer)
2012-05-12 09:19 pm

cinnamon rolls or coffee cake

James is off babysitting our friends' son. The kids are clean and asleep. The 3rd 4th load of laundry is running, there are clean sheets on our bed and the dishes are done. Now to start working on a tasty breakfast for tomorrow. I need to think of a cheap and easy plan for dinner too, since nobody else in the family can cook and we have no money this month. I don't really trust Domino's gluten-free pizza to be gluten-free enough, as tempting as delivery sounds. Maybe Mexican take-out. Maybe suck it up and cook some real food that we can trust. Maybe I'll go buy myself a damn cupcake. If I didn't care about food, we could just eat PB&J for breakfast, lunch and dinner tomorrow, for my Official Day To Relax.

Should I even care about Mother's Day? I'm not sure. Silly, commercial, what? Growing up, my Mom avoided Mother's Day because of the rocky relationship she had with her own mother. We always skipped church and, like, took a long bike ride so she wouldn't have to listen to the pastor talk about how wonderful mothers are. We'd give her the cards we'd made at school and eat something she liked for dinner. That was that. A few years ago she announced she wanted to "reclaim" the day, so after a 3-decade pass I now have to remember it. And I'd like it to be pleasant for me too. I don't need anything fancy, just a pleasant day for us.

But I'm starting to wonder if that's too much to ask, if just for now. Let's see: four years ago, my blood pressure was starting to act up, a preview of the HELLP that would lead to the boys' delivery. Three years ago, Andrew sliced his hand on a can he'd grabbed from the recycling bin and it bled for 2 hours. Two years ago, James's grandmother had just died so he was in Texas and I had all of them to myself all weekend (Ellen was 6 weeks old). Last year I think it was more like a normal, intense weekend. We tried going out to brunch with our newly gluten-free crew, but I was the only person who ate happily at the hippie restaurant. Still, I guess that's progress, right? In a few more years, the kids will be able to cook some simple stuff on their own (with James's supervision) and maybe I'll get a little ass-sitting time.

In the meantime, the Magic 8 Ball is fuzzy on tomorrow. I'm nervous. The rest of my family is all sick with a cold and I am still swatting at lupus like a fly in the bedroom. I finished my first round of steroids feeling pretty good, but 3 days later, I'd already backslid quite a bit. So I'm back on them for another month, and I really need to be careful because while they don't make me aggressive like they do some people, they do make me hungry. And with these stress levels, I'm way more likely to eat cheese and chocolate than carrots and celery. Plus it's harder to exercise when lupus is rearing its ugly head, so I berate myself, so I'm stressy, cue vicious circle.

Therefore, let it be known: I'm going to relax tomorrow if it kills me. Or, more likely, if it means screen time on a way-too-gorgeous-to-stay-inside day. Snuggling with my darlings seems a good way to celebrate, don't you think? I really do love being a mother, but I think I will be served well by having low expectations for Mother's Day.