Post Memorial Weekend 2012

I've been offline a lot this weekend.  I disconnected a bit. I'm not sure I'm ready to fully reconnect yet. There's been a lot going on.

Mr. Wampus has the worst case of HF&M (you know, blistery mittens) ever documented. He's finally on the mend, after a hefty dose of steroids, but forbidden from going back to work yet. Which is nice, even if it changes are routine a bit. I like having him around.

I have bronchitis, again, as well as a sinus infection, maybe caused by a head cold? I wasn't aware I had a head cold, but the children have started coughing and sneezing.  I still have a blister or two in my throat, but that was about as bad as it got. (As opposed to the Mr. who has blisters on his blister's blisters. It's pretty impressive)

My cousin Emily's 28th birthday was yesterday. That usually wouldn't be worth a mention (unless there was a bitchin' party) except Emily passed away last Aug.  I'm working on a post about that, sort of.  I am both driven to write about the experience, and how I feel about her loss, and unsure I want to actually post it.  I feel as though it might be baring more of my soul then I'm willing to publicly share. As much as I do share, I am a very private person. I'm what an old college prof used to refer to as, "selectively open."

Basically I'm not sure how I feel about this whole weekend. A little lost I suppose, or, at the very least, at a loss.  In order to continue going on with everything as normal, I need to shut down that part of myself that knows nothing is normal this year - or, that the state of "normal" as I know it has shifted so drastically it's going to take a very long time to reacclimatize.  But my children don't understand that, and I don't really want to displace that weight onto everyone around me. So I compartmentalize. It's handy for going on with the daily routine, but it makes it hard to get in touch with the part of myself that is the writer.

I write very much from an emotional place, so when I disconnect from that I'm left a little adrift. My writer wants to write about Em, but the mother and the wife, and the pet owner, has to drop the boy at preschool, and go to the pharmacy, and has a vet appointment, and doesn't want to go through the whole day trying to explain why I'm crying.  The punk rocker in me is pretty sure it's no ones business.

And then there's a part of me that's not sure I should write about. That's not sure I should post it at least. That's not sure I should put the weight of the loss on other people. Is not sure this is the place to unload that weight, is not sure other people should be burdened with it. I suppose we shall see what happens.

Not much about parenting today, except that, a large part of being a parent is figuring out how to juggle your personal self, with your parental self, and have everyone get what they need in the end. Our personal selves often lose out.