The reality of the sandwich generation

See that? she said two summers ago, pointing to pre-writing scribbles in pink chalk on the side of the carport, that says cancer.

Hi Lolo, she said on a phonecall to chat, We can't come see you today, because MasterP has a runny nose and you have chemo. Are you still having chemo? Can I talk to Lola now?

I talk to God, she said, standing in the bed of Mrs. Maiden's pick-up truck last night, before I go to sleep, after you leave the room. I get down like this, and I say please God, make Lolo better. I love him, thank you.

And accross the back of the truck, our eyes meet, and I share strength and comfort as I can.

I know all the words to De Colores and I'm proud to be an American...

Stuck.

Thanks, Janey.

It's been a gruelling week, my dears. Brought about, for the most part, by a kid cold gone bad in my sinuses. After a week of discomfort, (earning me the nickname snorky at the office - sad, but true) I have self medicated, using up half of the anti-biotic prescription I promised only to use under duress.

Dude. It wasn't as bad as the time I went to work because I was acting director and had to go to a horribly long and detailed presentation on how IT needs were going to be identified by the department and then addressed by the IT branch (not necessarily as easy a process as you might think) and the pain was so bad I couldn't actually see the screen where the horribly long and detailed presentation was displayed.

But still, I gots stuffs to do, right? Like bend over and put my kids shoes on. Or hold one on my lap without reeling from an accidental head-butt to the cheekbone. Or train for a half-marathon.

This week, I totally felt like the girl in the Advil commercial - if you think sinus pain and pressure is going to stop me.... Ask me two weeks ago, and I would have said 'pfft. That's absurd. If you're sick, seriously. How bad do you need to get out there?' This week? Well, if I let it go a week, I'm a week behind in distance maintenance. And you know, as long as I don't bend over (which I don't usually do while running) and breathe through my mouth, I'm generally ok.

But then on Monday, as I was blow-drying my hair after a tough night of, you know, snorking, I totally poked myself in the eyeball with a bristle of my round brush. Owwwww.

And also?

Later that same morning, as I was cooking her eggs and cottage cheese scramble in a one-eyed pirate mama fashion, MlleL was riffing on a role-play where her husband had just died and her baby was in her tummy (yeah, I know. TRAGIC. We're very dramatic chez Valentine. ALSO, I'd like to note that we really only watch Treehouse and the occasional episode on the Family channel, so there's not a whole lotta tragedy played out at our house influence-wise.) As I was commiserating her loss, she went on to describe how it was soooooo sad that he had died, and was now with God, and so we had to, and I quote, "dirt him up."

haaaaaaaaaaaa.

It's so, so wrong, but I don't really want to correct that, cause' it's so damn hilarious.

oh. my. goodness.

2 hours and 20 minutes of KISS. Some of it in the rain.

They were amazing.

It was an amazing, amazing show.

I'm not a huge fan, and I certainly didn't even know most of the songs, but they're icons, you know? They're icons.

And oh, I screamed for them. I leaned back and howled.

So much fun.

But my lesson learned? Well, I could rock and roll all night, but if I rock and roll, and mama (nights are still rough chez Valentine - both kids up last night again), and try to 'party every day' on four hours of sleep, I'm going to be forced to have to go home early to spend a few hours horizontal under the covers.

How I got to work late yesterday morning:

MlleL came into bed on Tuesday night, and chased me all over in her need to have directly-next-to-me-all-the-time sleep. (This is in direct conflict with my need for no-touching-me-while-I-sleep sleep.)

Husband carried her back to her own bed somewhere around 2.

MasterP woke up somewhere around 3 with teething pain, and required Husband's particular snuggle on the couch for the rest of the morning. It was a long, cold night for everyone.

MlleL came into the bedroom at 5:30 to ask for my help with her zipper, as she was already changing to start the day. I couldn't convince her that it was still sleeping time. Thankfully, as Husband was already downstairs, I was able to buy myself another half an hour of sleep.

As I wrestled with MasterP to change his morning diaper, it fell poo down on the rug. Twice. (no, I won't tell you where). Oh, hell, that's icky. Copious use of disinfectant followed.

I made them granola from scratch for breakfast. (In the microwave - I'm no saint.)

After Husband left to catch his bus, MasterP climbed on the window ledge in the bay window and pulled the curtains down. I fell off the stool trying to put them back up. (I'm fine.)

As I was brushing MlleL's hair, MasterP walked up and blew his nose on my skirt. As I looked at him in shock, he laughed and tried to do it again. He was very offended when I refused him.

I spent a little while looking for my eye shadow brush. I think someone stole it. I had to apply with my fingers, but in the meantime, if you find a little silver brush, the length of a pencil, you'll know whose it is.

MasterP threw all the balls he could find into the crack between the stove and the dishwasher.

I washed the cherries and sorted out the icky ones so that they won't continue to collect flies and we won't waste them. (Also in a pre-emptive move so that the new babysitter coming last night wouldn't wonder at my slovenliness.)

The crock pot turned itself off (or someone turned it off when I wasn't looking - which I also suspect, as both of them can reach the counter and love to push buttons). I turned it back on, and when I left, it was still on, so fingers crossed.

I caught MasterP and managed to get his shoes and his sweater on.

I finally dropped them off at 8:25.

I bought me a large latte at 10:20.

Dear sub-conscious:

To note, I'd like to thank you for your recent suggestion regarding my colleague. I appreciate your interest and concern and will remain vigilant. While I would very much welcome it, I'd be pretty surprised if a situation arose such that I, that colleague, and the lovely Dr. W would be on a work symposium involving much introspection and what would appear to be quite a bit of shopping and consumption of alcohol (in a mall/hotel that resembles a very, very large grotto). That being said, I will do my best to remain alert. Additionally, I doubt very highly that my colleague drives a truck. (Although colleague is from the west, so maybe you're right. Hard to tell. I'd ask, but then I'd have to explain why.....)

I also thank you for your repeated reminders of what it would feel like to forget to wear a top to meetings and exercise classes. I can assure you that aside from that one time at Janey's house, this problem has never arisen, and I will strive to keep my record of (relatively) successful self clothing intact. And no, I do not agree with your theory that repeated trips to the locker room to don successive layers would result in less people noticing. If I ever do find myself topless while in cobra pose, I think I'll just put everything on at once and be done with it.

Looking forward to working with you again at your earliest convenience,

I remain,

Your body.