Catharsis

Crying is supposed to be cathartic.  I have never been able to decide if it is or not.  Sometimes I think it is simply that after you have a big heaving cry, the kind that makes your face feel like a hot waxy candle about to drip into your chest, that when you finally get over it, you've just emptied yourself out, nothing left, and you feel relieved just by virtue of the fact that you are slack.

I hardly ever have a crying jag, but I did tonight.  I don't understand how I got there either because the day was going pretty well.  I got nine good hours of sleep (coming on top of a night of four, so I really needed it.)  I got the ad placed in the local paper ($35!) for Saturday, and picked up Lana and her brother TJ for a day of fun.  We went to the mall and Walmart, Sheetz and McDonalds, rented Yogi Bear at Redbox, and had a pretty good day going.  They're good kids.  I admit I felt old though.  I saw Sister Rickabaugh from East Hills at Giant Eagle while we were renting the film, and she asked me if I had my grandchildren with me.

Dang.

They are 7 and 8 and I am 49 so it is not only mathematically possible, but actually feasible.  And there is that red hair thing going on.

However, I am pretty sure I may never be a real grandmother because that would mean my daughters could get along with a husband, and they don't get along too well with each other or me.  I don't know.  Aren't we too old for growing pains?  I do have to say Kim was the sane one tonight, and part of me was proud of her voice of reason.  Baby is growing up.

I said "furniture" in the ad - and didn't specify the other child's big counter-height dinette table which she really wants to sell.  No one else googled the ad page and composed the ad and, might I reiterate, offered to pay the ad listing fee, other than me.  Doesn't that give me the privilege of writing the ad copy?  And if she doesn't like it, isn't she entitled to write, list, and pay for her own ad?  I don't want to sound harsh, but if no one takes responsibility for something besides me, it would seem that no one is entitled to criticize the management.

That led to a laundry list of all my sins and shortcomings as a mother.  It's a long list, and I admit, I sure have messed up a lot.  That led to me coming upstairs, heaving on the landing trying to breathe, and that whole "my face is melting off" sensation.

I'm tired of taking care of them both.  I know that sounds selfish, irresponsible, uncaring, harsh, you name it.  But I'm imperfect, and coming to Pennsylvania was a decision I made without having anyway to foresee the problems associated with the move.  I would not be here had I known and hindsight is always 20/20.  I am tired of being the only one who can unplug a toilet and put tissue on the spindle and unload a dishwasher.  I am tired of driving to Pittsburgh anytime someone wants to go to Ikea and I am out $40 for gas without a thank you.  Then they tell me I was happier spending my time with Lana and TJ than with them.  I answer by saying Lana and TJ were nicer to me.

Sadly, that is true.  I have asked and begged and pleaded for some kindness around here, and it is in short supply.  I am empty, and I cannot give them anything more from my reservoir.  I am tired.  I wish someone would just scratch my back once in a while, or smile at me, or care about how I feel.  I know when I finally break down (and it happens very seldom.  This is the second time in Pennsylvania) and cry that it sounds like a freight train.  They had to have heard how hard I was crying.  No one comforted me or asked me after if I was okay or, perish the thought, apologized for not liking my ad copy.  Like moi cannot write ad copy.

So tonight when I pray and thank Jehovah for something, it will be for first crying and then blogging all that out.  It will be for Lana kissing her brother's cheek in the fourth picture of their photo booth session in the mall and for TJ, for jumping in my lap when the dog barked at him and wrapping his hands around my neck, confident that I can take care of his problem.  And it will be for the confidence I have in Jehovah to strengthen me tomorrow to make it another day.

Goodnight Sisters.