And by real I mean . . . umm . . . not too bad, actually.
I mean, we had to move, and I hate moving, and our relocation dude was so bad that he sucked and blew at the same time, so that would go in the “bad” column. But we moved due to a work promotion, and the move got us out of Little Town, so there are two marks in the good column.
And? We really, really love our house and our new area in general, so that is another strike in the “good” column. I mean, we aren’t terribly close to the wide range of retail and civilization that we originally had within minutes of our home (two homes ago), so I guess that would be a mark in the “bad” column, except that we do have a full-sized Mega Mart, Wally World, a Kohls with two doors, and a movie theater within 10 minutes of our house, so that all goes in the “good” column.
McH’s commute sucks rocks, of course, and we see far less of him these days than we did in the past. Squarely a “bad” tally. But he has a job, a good job, and it is going well. A huge “good”.
And I lost 7-9 lbs. (depending on the day, you know), so that goes smack dab in the “good”. Of course, I lost that weight because I developed a migraine-inducing sensitivity to wheat. That belongs, unquestionably, in the “sucky” column.
Aside from the migraine stuff, though, I am healthy and the rest of my family is healthy, so that’s a huge mark in the “fabulous” column.
This past year I also found a Dr. who deals with bio-identical hormones, and they have helped with my migraine problem, so another “good” tally. I don’t think the Dr. is fantastic, however, and her office is a dive and her staff is . . . umm . . . wow . . . just . . . umm . . . also not fantastic, so that can go in the “bad” column. But all my reading and hormone taking got my mother in to see an anti-aging/wellness Dr. in her area, and he seems to be really good, and he is way cheaper, so I have an appointment with him in six days – hopefully another check mark in the good column.
Though, I suppose, that would count for 2011, wouldn’t it?
Quinn is talking more and more, another “good”. Of course, now that he can better articulate just how he thinks the world should be run, the level of disappointment when his every wish is not obeyed, every whim not catered to, is unpleasant. I would put that in the “bad” column, except that his expressions of displeasure, compared to those of my other children when they were his age, are like the harmonious clinking of wind chimes compared to . . . let’s say . . . the deafening blarting of Ozzy Osborne on the bagpipes. So I’m creating a neutral column.
My oldest became a teenager this year, which anyone with any sense knows is “bad” because, hello? We all have been, or have been around 13-year-old girls, right? Plus, it means I’m old (yes, it always comes back to being about me, doesn’t it?). But, she is a phenomenally wonderful 13-year-old girl, so I’ll stick her in the “good” column. McH doesn’t always get just how easy we have it with her. He sees the angst and, at times, argumentativeness, but he doesn’t realize how: A. normal it is; and B. mild her case of it is.
So, 2010, I’m kinda sad to see you go because, overall, you weren’t too horrible (though I fear that if I got back and read my blog posts from this past year I will find an inordinate amount of whining, but I chalk that up to residual stress from two years in our soul-sucking country location and the many things that happened while we were there, and another move).
As we embark on this new year, I can honestly say my attitude is shifting and I find myself relaxing a little more with each passing day. For a couple of years I felt like I was on High Alert, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, the next bout of Other People’s Crazy to attack, the next . . . whatever . . . whatever you can think of that is bad and stressful to happen. But now I feel like I’ve reached the light at the end of that tunnel and things are shifting. For now anyway.
So, Dear 2011, I have high hopes for you. Nothing extravagant, actually. Just some calm, boring, normal, stable living, with the typical ups and downs that don’t involve moving or any other major life changes.
And while we’re on the topic of expecting some calm, boring, normal, 2011, did you really have to start off with Dick Clark making out on t.v. last night? Really??? I mean, I don’t begrudge my elders some lovin’, but it was like watching my grandparents dementor kissing. And, NO, I never actually saw my grandparents sucking face, but if I had? It would have made me feel just like I felt last night, in my family room full of a zillion teenagers who didn’t know where to look when all the t.v. kissing started because they are probably all so . . . umm . . . (is there delicate synonym for the word “horny”?) but none of them had anyone to kiss, and even if they did they wouldn’t have dared do it at a party full of church kids with the adults sitting right there, and there was that 150-year-old getting a little sumpn sumpn on the wide screen, and then I didn’t know where to look. It was just an entire room full of awkwardness and decidedly not normal-ness.
But it may explain why we had to go downstairs at least five times* to to turn the lights back on and tell the kids, AGAIN, that tag and hide-and-go-seek in the dark were, we were very sorry, just not allowed. If you want to come up with come covert way to cop a feel, boys and girls, don’t do it in my house. Mmmkay?
Tewt the Newt is now going to go scrub his brain and take a nap.
*After tallying up the number of times I told the kids to leave the lights on, the number of times McH told the kids to leave the lights on, and the number of times another chaperone told the kids to leave the lights on, and realizing it was completely ridiculous how many times these kids had been told to leave the lights on, the basement bunch was “invited” to spend the rest of the night upstairs with the other kids. McH pretty literally had to guard the basement door after that since the little buggers kept trying to sneak down stairs.