Sunday, November 9, 2008

Don't Read the Eeyore

There is so much good and beauty in the world. 

I can't see any of it. 

I am an eeyore. 

In the past 10 days:
I had a chest infection. Fever, night sweat, coughing spasm, blood.
The Rooster woke up one night around midnight vomiting profusely. 
The Peaches woke up with charley horses around 2. 
My husband caught the chest cold. 
Peaches caught the stomach flu. 
The Rooster hit his shadow. 
I caught the stomach flu. 
The shadow caught the stomach flu. 
The broker we hired to find us the car we need disappeared; a simple Toyota that matches our needs (can I hear a "THIRD ROW" amen please?!) cannot be located anywhere in the country. Our current 14-year-old, overtaxed Toyota limps along sadly, threatening to quit, and I can't blame it.  
A coworker seems determined to criticize me unfairly.
My husband ordered a new mattress to replace the 11-year-old one that sags miserably and hurts his back. The new - expensive - set came. It is toxic. I'd rather sleep in the Rooster's bed during his stomach flu, it smells that bad. 

And, don't think I didn't notice, there was a presidential election. I did, I swear, do my best to bask in it. I had all four computers in the house on abc, cnn, npr, and msn, and stole all the glances the kids would permit. I turned on the clock radio in the bed room and snuck in there each chance I got. The rooster, of course, did not allow me to watch any tv, but when I tried we at least had a moment of levity. He pointed to the screen and shouted, as he does on Sundays when I try to catch a Redskins score, "I DON'T LIKE FOOTBALL!" I told him, "Son, that is not football. That is about the president of the United States." I pointed to the screen, where images of both candidates looked back at us. He stamped his foot and proclaimed, "WELL, SHAME ON HIM!" And he turned it off. Fine, I have an iPhone, and his bedtime is 8, so eventually I got to bask some. Everyone else in the blogosphere wrote about the magic and power and significance of the night so much better than I can, but I shared the goosebumps, the tears, the  chills -- and this was not about my infection or flu. It was a moment of joyful hope. I still haven't come down from the news-binge every chance I get. I still revel in the history-making. I still feel heady and slightly anxious and very grateful. 

But I am still an eeyore, too. I still have the rest of the last ten days chewing on me, and it sometimes makes it hard for me to see the big picture of the goodness and the beauty all around. I am lame, and I know it, and I apologize for it. 

In the words of the rooster, Shame on ME. It's a good thing for me I'm not up for re-election. 


3 comments:

Niksmom said...

YOu are not lame, my dear; you've been ill. Big difference.

You could look at your illness (and the ensuing return to good health) as a metaphor for the pains our country has beenex periencing. You know, really, really sick for a while and no sense of hope until one day...well, you get the idea. ;-)

Hang in there, sweetie! Sending love and hugs...and good health!

pixiemama said...

You and I seem to be living in the same groove. I truly hope you feel better soon - in all ways...

kia (good enough mama) said...

Oh gawd, I get it. I so totally get it. I'm there with you, Eeyore. Why don't we get together and build a thistle tower? Then we can watch it fall, 'cause we KNOW it will...