Whining revisited

Still snowing.  (Well, it was three hours ago.  Now, it’s the Kentucky Derby and I don’t care about snow, just about horses.)

New word (I’ve hit a run of interesting ones lately):

moustery

Define, define, define – I love when you do it, and I get startled out of my brown study by my own laughing. This one begs – maybe too easy?

Okay, I think I figured something out.  You know how, if you don’t eat enough calories, your metabolism goes into starvation mode?  I think we’re wired to conserve everything we’ve got, once the body calculator gets enough evidence, gleaned completely from endocrine and nervous system activity, to support the assumption that something catastrophic, like a famine, is happening in the world outside.  So it won’t burn the fat stores until it absolutely has to.

Well, the other day when I wrote long and sad—I couldn’t do anything all day.  Finally, so much accumulated fretting and worry and processing (brake and gas pedal both to the metal at the same time), that the body simply cut off everything but life support.  Has that ever happened to you, when you can hardly keep your eyes open, and you weigh five million tons, and your eyes keep closing and the lethargy is almost drug like?  Indication: you have been living on adrenaline for so long, you’re lucky you can still fuel your heart and lungs.  Physical response: stop all systems and conserve in case something really, really bad happens (like being chased by a train, or getting knocked into a sewer, or getting an audit notice) and you have to run like the devil. (???)

Then – in the afternoon – we got the news.  Not only had the dead-beat seller actually signed the closing papers the day before (nice, don’t you think, of them to tell us?), but the missing forms had come and the whole deal was done.  And the drywall almost finished.  Amazingly, suddenly—I got on my feet and WALKED.  In fact, I tore out all the bad design mistakes in my knitted horse, fixed my dad’s messed up .paf file, set up my laptop for Monday’s massive quilt shoot and emptied the dishwasher.  A-Mazing adaptability, yes?

Being the mom is so much fun.  Even when you are no longer responsible for the entire universe, you still feel like you are.

Here’s another thing I think: there are times when big decisions have to be made, when situations are coming at you—thing that are going to have a huge impact on all the lives you are responsible for.  Big questions to be answered.  But not enough data yet to answer them, or to plan the next move.

You are left with all options Opn: what will we do if . . . .  And these are things you can’t just play by ear.  Things that have to be responded to logistically almost immediately.  Does anybody know what I’m talking about?  So you have to work out every possible outcome and plan for every one of them, having not enough information to pare down the possibilities.

That’s when you start wishing the wave would just hit you—because then you could actually DO something.

Maybe waiting is always the hardest part of anything.  I know it was for childbirth.