The Cookbook Junkies

It’s been a trying couple weeks – the reason for no witty, sarcastic, mean-spirited blog entries.

Two and a half years ago, Jim’s sister Mary Ellen, died of colon cancer. She was diagnosed in April of that year and died in September. Andrew was 3 months old.

Jim’s sister, Peggy, had to have a needle biopsy of something suspicious in her breast. It came back negative. A week later – they call her and tell her they really need to do a “real” biopsy to make sure because something doesn’t look right. She has a meeting set up with a breast surgeon. Two weeks ago, Jim’s sister, Nora, called. She had a needle biopsy…it was cancer. She is having a lumpectomy today. They believe it is Stage 0 which is good and things look promising.

For over a year, we’ve been concerned with some of Andrew’s behaviors: Hand flapping (lasting from a minute to 10 minutes or more – many, many times a day); severe temper tantrums, zoning out, ignoring us, he has to line up all his toys in a row, his love of puzzles and patterns…etc. Now we are finally seeing a pediatric neurologist – because it is all getting worse.

My poor husband works all the time. He is exhausted. Saturday he went in at 5 p.m. and got home at 1 a.m. He is forever working. It is near impossible to get a day off. When he wanted a few days off for our son’s birthday — he couldn’t get them. I’m ready to slit my throat – I’m so tired – and now he can’t book anything for the summer because all his guys have booked vacation. For the one “guy” that reads this blog, I’m not upset that Jim’s guys had the good sense to book their vacation – I’m just in a constant state of upset. Jesus, Mary and Joseph…when will it end. I believe he is trying to get off the week that we are going to have our bathroom re-done – that will be a relaxing time! Not.

There is so much more suffering in the world and I have no right to complain – but I’m so tired, he is so tired. We cry alot. There has to be a better way to live.

I read the news and I just fall apart. Friggin teenagers break into a man’s home and kill him and his little toddler son – finds his dad, lays down on him and falls to sleep. How horrible is that? A man gets drunk and forgets his two year old inside a hot car for 9 hours? Two DOCTORS from England, leave their not quite 4 year old and two year old twins in an apartment in a resort – while they have a nice dinner alone – yes, they said they could see the door of the apartment from the restaurant, yes they checked every 30 minutes (although the last time – it had been an hour) and someone broke into the apartment and took the 4 year old. What is wrong with these people? (I feel complete and total anguish for these parents I do – they thought being yards away and leaving the children asleep they would be safe – but dear God…). Teenagers killing people, parents responsible for children when they can’t even take care of themselves, and educated DOCTORS leaving three small children alone in an apartment in a resort in Portugal where baby sitting services were available….for Christ sake – does anyone use their brain anymore? I hate to take the garbage when Andrew is in the house with his 22 year old brother – God knows what trouble those two would get into.

We all need to start praying that this world wises up or there will be nothing left (materially, emotionally, physically) for any of us.

and you’re not better than me.

that line is from Pink’s – Dear Mr. President – I love that line. I could say that to so many people.

I just got off a five day cooking, cleaning, baking marathon for my sister-in-law’s 25th Wedding Anniversary party we threw them at our house (a surprise). I was excited, I couldn’t wait for them to get here. Then another brother-in-law told me earlier on Saturday “you are stupid for doing this”. He then sprinkled his usual negative, smart ass comments throughout the night — so condescending and unnecessarily critical (thanks Maroon 5). I swear, one day I will crack and I’ll be one of those people who the neighbors talk to reporters about “she seemed so nice – she was always baking something for us. I can’t believe she cut her brother-in-law up in little bitty pieces and fed him to the dog across the street. We all wondered why that dog was getting so fat”. It is silly to let one person’s negative comments get to you – but they are constant. He always has this look of superiority and it irritates me to no end.

I got to go sharpen my knife…it’s getting harder and harder to breathe (ditto Maroon 5).

For over 18 months now, whenever Andrew (who will be three on June 29th) and I watch Sesame Street and they get to the part about the number of the day, I have to listen to Andrew say “Eight! Eight! I want it to be eight” over and over again. Of course, it is always any number but eight. And then I have to hear “NO! NO! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT!” for roughly five minutes. (Note: Andrew’s favorites – the letter “W”, the color “green” and the number “eight” every time we go in the grocery – he wants aisle eight!)

Today, on this dark, misty morning when I’m feeling tired and overwhelmed….the number of the day is EIGHT! Thank you sweet, merciful Jesus…you are a good and just God. I’m dancing, smiling, telling Andrew – “hooray, it is eight!!”. Two seconds later, “I want it to be SEVEN. NO! SEVEN! SEVEN!” God, why have you forsaken me?

Males are “men” even when they are three.