I know, I know. I’ve been MIA from the blogosphere lately. Let’s just say, it’s been a busy couple of weeks–or to use a favorite term from a friend of mine–it’s been totally crazy.
In the last two weeks I have been:
*Working dilligently at securing a literary agent for my completed manuscript.
* Organizing the first aid tent for the community volunteer playground build week that’s coming up for Bozeman in two weeks–The Dinosaur Playground at Gallatin Regional Park.
* Dealing with the ever-worsening meltdowns of my six-year-old daughter. We’re talking: on the floor, kicking-and-screaming-as-if-she’s-a-two-year-old-throwing-a-tantrum meltdowns. Really, this has gone on, intermittently, since she was two and quite frankly, folks, I’m over it. Two weeks ago, I visited with a family counselor about this–one whom I’ve consulted in the past for the same reason. She recommends a Neuropsych eval. Good Lord.
* Attending physical therapy for on-going hip and back pain with a little improvement–the improvement I’ve notice is probably because I’m becoming increasingly sedentary, sitting around on my ever-expanding ass, watching weeds take over my precious flower beds, and dust collect on my brand-new road bike. I’d like to think it is because of the core-stabilizing exercise my PT has expertly prescribed. But avoiding exercising seems to be playing a larger part.
*My mom came to visit, to care for our three kids while Andrew and I took a whirl-wind trip down to the San Francisco area. This, by the way, is not a boo-hoo portion of this post. It was, for the most part, a wonderful trip…very informative, very busy, and even included a quick day trip to Napa’s wine country, plus several fantastic meals of Indian, Japanese and Italian cuisine. My mom did an aweseome job with our kids, and Andrew and I both are ever grateful for the time she spent here.
* While in San Fran, I had a meeting with the director of the UCSF Medical Anthropology doctoral program. Narcissistically, I went down there thinking I was a shoe-in. I have a PA degree. I practiced medicine for five years. I teach childbirth classes. I am a writer. I am heavily involved in community events, including community education events. I have my research topic totally dialed.
Over the course of a pleasant, 30-minute conversation, she told me I was headed in the wrong direction. She suggested I check out the Sociology program. She said my credentials were insufficient. I was totally bummed. When I went across the hall to the Sociology program I was nearly told the same thing.
*After four great days of work/play in the big city, including lots of riding in cars and tons of walking, I returned home with an aching back and hip. Did I mention I’m scheduled for a hip arthrogram and back MRI today? Yeah, just imagine a sword-like needle being inserted into the hip joint, injecting a radioactive dye and then lying in an MRI machine for the next hour + while tiny slices of imagery are taken of that hip, plus lower back. I’m really looking forward to it. Especially the large needle part of it. (A friend of mine who happens to be an orthopedic surgeon at the same practice through which I’ve scheduled my tests mentioned to me that many people take Valium prior to this procedure…but because I have to drive myself to and from the testing, plus be prepared to take care of my kids after word, I’ll be skipping the Valium. Lamaze breathing, here I come!)
*Until late last night, I was totally stressed about finding childcare for my two boys while having the above-mentioned testing done. Thanks to the generosity of an awesome friend, I think I now have that piece covered. In the past six years, I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve been stressed over finding childcare. Seems to have been a recurrent theme for me over the years.
*Upon my return home from San Fran, and after four days of reportedly good behavior, my daughter’s disposition has plummeted once again–non-coincidentally occurring on the day my mom left. This all, while my back was hurting like hell, my right leg burning, numb and aching all at the same time, and Andrew gone at work until almost 7:30 last night.
Now, for those of you reading this…finger tips pulsating at the ready with a retort of something like, “you don’t have anything to complain about. You don’t live in a mud hut in Subsaharan Africa. You’re not dying of AIDS. You don’t live under a burhka in Afghanistan.” –I know. Believe me, I know. I tell myself this stuff every day. So please save yourself the effort and threatened Carpal Tunnel Syndrome from typing these things back to me. I pester myself with these reminders every day. By all accounts, I am tremendously lucky.
Still, some days (weeks) are more challenging than others–thank goodness for a little vacation thrown in the mix (and one awesome visit to the Robert Mondavi winery including a great tour and fabulous wine tasting). Poor me. Cry me a river, right?