Do-Over

I swear…there are some days when I feel more than a little lost. When I find myself not only wondering what the future may hold but wondering how I got here in the first place.

Whose life is this, anyway?? It can’t be mine. This is NOT what I signed up for…I’m sure of it. I pre-registered for the “Abysmally Uncomplicated Yet Fulfilling Adult Life 101”, with a minor in “Possible Career Re-Direction In Your Mid-Thirties After the Standard Reproduction” course of study?? You know…the “Typical Life”, with a side of “Options” just to cover all my bases??

Now to whom do I have my parents make out the check…?

And what room number would that be…??

Now, I’m supposed to be the adult. I’m supposed to know at least some of the answers …and not be asking the stupid questions. So, why is it that I’m still feeling like a kid inside?

There’s a part of me that’s in complete and total denial…the proverbial She-Ostrich, with her head firmly embedded in the sand: I can’t see this adult world with its adult-sized-issues, so it therefore does not exist.

Do I sound just a tad whiny? Just a bit immature?? Well, get over it. I’m dealing the best I can…I’m just grateful The C-man hasn’t chimed in. Yet.

I want my childhood back…and on top of that, I want my mother….

Basically, I want a do-over.

Okay, so not one of my more mature statements, but it is what it is.

What can I tell you…it’s been one hell of a week. With Friday a mere breath away, I’m holding mine and plowing, head down and blinders on, towards the weekend. Just stay out of my way. I don’t want to trample you.

I’ve had a few people mention that I may be in need of a vacation. Most recently, Laura has brought this to my attention. Honestly, I think if anyone’s deserving of a vacation, it’s Laura herself. It’s always nice to hear people wishing that I’d go away, though. I’ll take it in the spirit it was intended. (This said as she jumps up to refill her empty wine glass with more Cloudy Bay.)

My brother called me today from the car…they’re heading south (a daunting five hours away) to camp for the weekend. I think he was calling to thank me for the dvd player I’d lent them for the viewing pleasure of my petit-nieces, not to mention the sanity it will bring to their parents. It’s always a pleasure to aid in the mental stability of my fellow travelers.

WHY they’d want to risk that delicate emotional balance by going camping is beyond my comprehension. It is common knowledge in my circle that I am NOT A CAMPING GAL. I’m not even much of an OUTDOOR GAL, as mosquitoes are evidently able to view me from SPACE with a big red target-sign on my forehead. They will literally come from out-of-state to feed on my flesh... and I believe there has been a website established to notify distant bug-relatives of my outdoor plans months in advance, charging a hefty fee for the honor of feasting on my exposed skin. I’m thinking it’s www.stupidhuman,tastyflesh.com, or something similar.

Taylor says he can almost hear the bug-sirens going off as I walk out the front door: “THIS IS THE MOSQUITO ALERT SYSTEM. THIS IS NOT A TEST. SUBJECT HAS LEFT THE BUILDING. GET HER WHILE SHE’S FRESH.”

You can see where Taylor gets his imagination.

I don’t know whether to be proud or very, very afraid….