Children

Adorable little jerks.

Like many people with no children of their own, I have a lot of opinions about how they should be raised. One of these crazy ideas is that they should behave themselves in public, and not act like crazed, wild animals. Weird, right? Apparently parents in the US think so. 

Yesterday, I went to a brewery with my parents. Straight up bar, not a bar/restaurant thing. There was a group there, I'm guessing it was a couple of families. The parents were sitting there chatting away while their kids screamed and ran all over the damn place. I'm not even exaggerating this time. They kept running laps or something, and I was about two seconds away from tripping one of them. They were probably 7 or 8, so they were definitely old enough to know better and not act like complete imbeciles. But, it's not really the kids' fault. Because who taught them how to behave decently in public? Obviously not their parents. 

We went out for a nice dinner the last time I was in Paris. (Which, btw, I have become obsessed with again. I think I should probably just live there. Anyone want to fund my move to Paris? And...uh...my life after that? Cause Paris is expensive and I still don't speak French well. That language is hard. Plus, Duolingo keeps teaching me ridiculous phrases like "Did you come to kill us?" Because I'm sure that will be helpful at some point and GOOD-GOD I hope that's never actually a helpful phrase!!! Um. Yeah. I think that's a good place to stop this rant.) 
Anyway so we went out to a nice dinner and after we were there for a while a group came in with a little girl. I'd guess she was about 5 or 6, and an absolute angel. She colored or something the whole time, and talked to them a little bit. There was no screaming or running around or general tomfoolery. I remember commenting to Sister and BroInLaw that it would be a completely different scene in the US, and the kid would be running around like a neanderthal. 

Why is that? There seems to be a trend in the good ol' U S of A that kids reign supreme. Nobody is allowed to make a noise that might wake the sleeping baby, anywhere and everywhere is a playground, teachers are blamed for a kid's bad grades, and anyone who questions the child-ruler has to deal with the mama grizzly (thanks Sarah Palin). 
Again, I don't have kids so it's easy for me to judge, but I really don't think I'd have the selflessness or patience to let a kid run my life. And I wouldn't want them to. A parent's job is to raise the kid; to teach them how to be a halfway decent human being and get them ready for the world. Because they don't have the cognitive ability to make logical and reasonable decisions. 
I have a niece who's first instinct is to be afraid of things. If she's not familiar with something, it's scary. Two of those things are nutcrackers and fire. Nutcrackers...silly. Just a kid thing. But her parents' run around and remove all the Christmas nutcrackers instead of being reasonable. Fire...okay, that could be useful. But it goes to things like birthday cakes and fires for warmth. When one of my sisters tried to explain that it was okay in the fireplace, she got yelled at. Obviously there's a whole lot more to that. There's a whole mess of crazy there. 

Then you've got the parents who want to give their kids absurd names "to be unique." UGH. I mean, this kid is stuck with a weirdo name that nobody can pronounce for their entire life. They have to deal with peers, try to get a job, face the world with some sort of confidence. But they've already been set up with their stupid effing names. I completely support the judge that wouldn't let a couple name their kid Nutella. Wtf. Don't reproduce anymore. I honestly read an article around Christmas about a girl whose name was Abcde and pronounced ab-suh-dee. It made me angry. It still does. 

As you can see, I have a lot of opinions on this, and most of them are negative. Maybe if I get to have kids someday my opinions will change. I kind of hope not. If any of you have offspring and would like to put me in my place, I'm all for it. I'm okay with being wrong. 

All that being said, I finally get to meet my youngest nephew this year. He's almost a year old, but the drive is about 8 hours and I hadn't been able to make it with my dumb legs. 
Don't get me wrong, I really do love kids. They're needy and drooly and poopy and screamy and fantastic. 

Love and Asphyxiation

Affectionately choking the life out of you.

The other day one of my coworkers said she felt sad for me because of my last Meredith post, so that needs updating. The bridal shower and bachelorette party were actually really nice--it was a lot of women who were very inclusive and talkative, there were no odd-man-out situations. And, thankfully, there was nary a penis shaped...well anything at the bachelorette party. Is that just a thing in the US? I hate it. It's tacky.

Anyway, Meredith brought one of her work friends down, and we really enjoyed chatting. At one point, she started talking about a friend Meredith had that was supposed to be in the wedding but hadn't been supportive at all. I listened to her for a minute wondering if I should just keep my mouth shut, but finally said that she was talking about me. We were both embarrassed for a few minutes, but got over it and everyone continued and had a great time. I also did my best to be helpful and supportive.
On Monday I sent Meredith an email thanking her again for such a great time. I let her know what happened with the conversation, and apologized for not being more encouraging. I also let her know we'd talked about her wedding for years, and that things weren't turning out that way at all. I told her I don't want to get to her wedding day and have her feel like it wasn't what she wanted. 

It didn't take too long for her to reply, and she was appreciative that I reached out and apologized. Then the elephant in the closet finally came into the room. She agreed that we'd talked about this for years and acknowledged that it probably hurt my feelings when she didn't ask me to stand up for her. I was glad she brought it up, since that's not really something I could have said. She said it was because of Dwight she hadn't asked. 
When Soldier and I broke up, I had a really hard time with it (as I have with every breakup.) So when I needed a friend, Meredith told me to figure it out and get over it. She was probably sick of me being upset, but I was hurting and I needed her. I needed to deal with my own shit, so I stopped talking to her. I will readily admit that I let it go far too long without talking to her and letting her know why I was upset. She was understandably sad, confused, and hurt...then we made up and it was fine. 
And that's it. Dwight was worried that something would happen and Meredith would get hurt. I'm still not sure how her being kind of a shitty friend turned into my fault, but there it is. She was put in a difficult position and, since she'll be sharing her life with him, I can't fault her for the decision she made. I'm also really glad that I know now, and I can be the Phantom of the Wedding that she's looking for. I will also be asking for an official title change to Phantom of the Wedding. 

SWITCH.

Tee has started to get a bit clingy. It's driving me a bit bat-shit-insane. I realize that this is ridiculous, as he's the nicest, most considerate guy I've ever dated. But seriously. This coming weekend, I've decided I need a weekend to myself to be lazy and veg and...well...whatever I want! 

Le sigh. I feel so dysfunctional; I don't know what the deal is and why I can't just appreciate affection. I'm probably going to die alone. And with allergies I'm going to have to get those creepy hairless cats. I'm gonna take crazy cat lady to a whooole new level!

Resolutions

I resolve to be more resolute.

I don't really believe in resolutions, I think I've mentioned that. I've never made good ones, and I've never kept them. But last year I decided to make myself a couple of promises: to travel, and to learn. I kept them both, and I've gotten pretty obsessed with finding new things to learn. I want to know so much stuff. 

This year, I want to stick with that idea, but it's getting cheesier. Are you ready? You've been warned. My promise to me this year (my promolution?) is to live. I mean, to really live. 
I want to appreciate every day, even the really shitty ones. Basically, I want to make this chick proud of me:

Spoiler alert: that chick is me. Whaaaa?! 

Of course there's partly a reason for this. I mean I've been trying to live more since the whole thing where my body decided to have a mind of its own, and that mind wanted to mutiny. Psh, screw that. I whipped it right back into shape! You know...after lots of tests, and meds, and surgery...but it learned who was boss! And then it didn't, and then it did, and then it didn't, and then it did...well you know. 

I had my latest appointment on Christmas Eve. Why did I think that was a good idea? Knowing I would have to stand for a long time singing at Mass that night? And that it would take all of my energy? Lord only knows. Ok, it was mostly because that was the first option to get back in to see them. I saw the PA again, which was good and bad...he's not as personable as the rhuematologist, but he knows his stuff too.

Well, the first comment was that the meds obviously aren't working. It's basically been every day waking up and wondering to what degree my knees will swell, and how sick I'll feel. So it really wasn't a surprise that the meds aren't working. We also talked about how the Prednisone (a steroid) only kind of worked. He said there's only about 5% of the population that doesn't respond to it. Go figure. 

The part I wasn't ready for was when he told me what the next treatment option would be: chemo. The biggest concern medically is my age; if I were to get pregnant, there would be birth defects. And if I wanted to get pregnant, there would be a 90 day period I'd have to be off treatment before it would be safe to try. Then it would be at least a year off treatment. Granted, a baby isn't exactly in my plans right now, but it's something I would like. Now I have to wonder if it's a possibility. 

We decided the best mode of treatment at the time was to drain my knee again (fucking OW) and shoot some more Cortisone into it. For some reason those steroids work. It's been doing okay so far. Which is also good and bad. It's nice to have (almost) full use of my legs again, but I've kind of resigned myself to chemo and that part of me just wants to get it started. 

So, there you have it. The changes I made all those months ago have stuck. Thanks for coming along on the journey, give yourself a hug from me. 

The Phantom of the Wedding Part Deux

"I remain...your obedient servant."

Meredith's wedding shower and bachelorette party are this coming weekend. I'm already bracing myself. Actually, I think I've been bracing myself since the invitations came. Even more so because our relationship has changed in the last few months. I haven't seen her since Tee and I went wine tasting with her and Dwight, and even when we talk, it's because I initiate the conversation. The conversations seem to go fine, and she even mentioned during the last one getting together to craft some things for the wedding, but I haven't heard from her since. 

I'm not dumb though; it's entirely possible that I said or did something that upset her. My "role" in the wedding still stings. I keep trying to remind myself that it's her wedding and I have no right to expect or be upset about my involvement, but hurt and jealousy are hard feelings to rein in. Although, that's still no excuse for being a big jerk.

I've decided that weddings are terrible things. Too many times they ruin relationships, leave people in debt, and turn nice, rational girls into obsessive bridezillas. And with all that, half of them still end in divorce. And what do they end up with? Beautiful pictures, full of people in expensive dresses, painted and coiffed to the bride's liking, who've been manipulated the whole time. 
Of course that's a gross generalization, and it definitely doesn't happen every time; I'm not at all trying to call Meredith a bridezilla. But it happens a lot. And it's sad to me.

I'm irritated that I'm irritated about it. And I don't know whether I should go and put on a brave face or just say screw it to the whole thing, she obviously doesn't give a shit. She's got her new best friends who are clearly much better than me. 
Ugh. I know, I sound bitter. I guess I am a little bit. I'm afraid I'm going to end up the bitter old hag who hates everyone and everything, and can't keep any friends around. Okay, wallowing in self-pity now. 

I always second-guess myself, and I always wonder if I'm making too much of things, if I'm being ridiculous or bitchy...but I really, really don't know what to make of this situation. I'm also a bit terrified to go to this thing where I won't know anyone, and I know I'll just kind of feel like a pariah. Meredith knows everyone, and even when we used to hang out just the two of us, I always felt like an idiot with her random friends and acquaintances that always showed up. So the thought of an entire day of that makes me want to huddle up in a corner and sob. 
But it's not about me, right? I'll just go back to being the Phantom of the Wedding.