I have all these thoughts squirreling around in my brain: Stuff I want to post, stuff I have to deal with, stuff I don't want to think about but that won't get out of my head...
I've got Girl Scout stuff I want to talk about, mundane in some ways, but fun to me. I want to post about the great job my girls did with the Nut Sale, or how they were able to take my lame (cheap) craft idea and "reduce, REUSE, and recycle" a bunch of leftover craft bits into fun whatevers, or how they're progressing on their Junior Girl Scout Bronze Award -- the highest award Juniors can earn -- of collecting old flags and planning a flag retirement ceremony to be held this spring.
I've got stuff to do for my daughter that is pretty high up there on the Overwhelming Meter. A lot of times when the meter is spiking, writing it out helps. (Sometimes I can't sleep until I do.) There's also Thanksgiving not once but twice as we visit both sides of our family, and for the first time, we won't all be together as my daughter and I go to my side on Thursday while my husband and son stay home -- drat that Science Fair project and the cost of boarding Otis in the hospital wing for six nights -- until we meet up for his side on Saturday (his birthday) before driving home caravan-style that night. Add to that the planning, shopping, and assorted jobs surrounding my mother's "surprise" 75th birthday party, dutifully but not joyfully completed. And I've got homework from the Superintendent of Schools that I haven't done yet.
And always in the back of my mind if not the front is Matthew. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of him. I don't know why his few hours of life have affected me so strongly. Maybe because his mother shared him so freely with us and allowed us to love him every minute of his nine months of growth. But the anniversary of his birth, and so sadly, of his death, is approaching next week, and I find myself overwhelmed by the loss of him. But because I've got all the issues surrounding my son's education twirling like plates on sticks in those old variety show acts, each one ready to wobble off and break if I take my eye off them for a second, I couldn't even attend the baby shower for Matthew's brother, Luke. No, it's not that I couldn't afford the time. It's because I'm a coward. I'm so distraught by all the things happening in my son's life that the thought of having to be social did me in. And the thought of having to be social celebrating Luke and grieving Matthew while in the presence of people who didn't stand up for my son made my stomach hurt. So instead of being there to support Matthew and Luke's mom in a joyously difficult/difficultly joyous time, and maybe getting a little "therapy" myself just by being there, I cravenly stayed home and napped those minutes away. Not one of my better supportive moments. I don't want to think about it, but it won't go away.
I have no ending, just squirreling thoughts.