Doing My Best. One Flush at a Time.

I'm not gonna lie to you.  I've been pretty manic depressed off my game the last few weeks.  It's been hard to maintain any semblence of personal hygeine let alone blog, so, if you've stuck around during my selfish bouts of silence and subpar posts here and there, you need to get a life.

And thank you.

Between trying to come to terms with Andrew's medical circumstances and waiting for test results that may clear up some of the mystery surrounding his CF diagnosis, I've also been trying to adjust being back at home full time.  Quitting a job I loved very much was a difficult thing to do.  I don't regret it, because I know that being available for Andrew is the most important thing I need to be doing right now, but I'd be a raging liar if I said I didn't miss bossing little people around and coming home with glitter in my teeth.  Also, I had quite the rude awakening when I showed up on the 5th last month and had to inquire about my "missing" paycheck.

"Hi!  Just came by to pick up my paycheck!  Have you seen it anywhere?"

"Ya.  We gave it to the teacher we hired to replace you." 

Apparently the going rate for past employees is 0.00/hour.  I really wish someone had warned me.

I also have a sneaking suspicion that my agoraphobia is making a swift comeback.  The more I stay home, the less I want to leave.  Just the other day the bus came by to drop Andrew off from school and I called dispatch to see if they could change the pick up and drop off locations to our kitchen table.  I'm still waiting to hear back.

So that's the dealio.

I'm doing my best, and sometimes that means putting on a bra, going for a walk with a friend, and having dinner on the table at the end of the day.

And sometimes it means I've wiped front to back, and flushed.