The cystoscopy was unpleasant but blessedly brief. Afterwards the doctor was all "Blah blah blah prolapse blah blah blah complications blah blah blah surgery blah blah damn, girl, your thing is all fucked up blah blah blah."
Then I got dressed and went to work. Oh, I looked quite gorgeous. I dressed up for the doctor. A skirt, and high-ish heels, and a pretty blouse. Then, the rest of the day at work, when the breeze was just right, I would catch a little whiff of Betadine. Nice, huh?
Speaking of work, I am having a little bit of a nervous breakdown. There are only 23 days left, and there's a lot to do, but that's not the part that's bothering me. What's bothering me is much more complicated to explain, and honestly I think you have to be a teacher to understand. It's a great big package of regrets and frustrations and small disappointments. I am not yet the teacher that I want to be. Part of what gets in my way just comes with the territory--too many directives from above, too much testing, never enough time. And part of it is just me and my tendency to lay down and play dead when I get overwhelmed.
Moving on.
I am in a little bubble of peaceful time right now. In about an hour I have to go to my parents' house because I had a bright idea that for Mother's Day my siblings and I should all get together and clean out her screen porch. This came about because a couple of weeks ago I went over to visit my parents, and my mother said brightly, "Let's sit out on the porch!". She shuffled out there, brushed a cloud of cat hair off the sad, faded wicker rocker, and I gingerly perched on the edge of a filthy seat cushion, my feet dangerously close to a small puddle of CAT PISS on the ancient straw floor covering that she bought 30 years ago at Pier 1, while my dearly befuddled mother chattered on about how she really needed to get out here and give it a good sweeping. So, my sisters, my brother, and I (and Josh, and Sasha) are converging on the porch today to scrub, paint, etc. This is the kind of project that Evangeline would be very unenthusiastic about, so it's a good thing that she is still at her small pretentious college in the Midwest.
Now, my parents could easily afford to pay someone to do this. But they never would. Not because they are cheap, just because, I don't know, it doesn't seem that bad to them, I guess. Anyway, my mother and father will enjoy all the busy activity and the sibling banter.
Tonight, it's a 21st birthday party for Paul (Sasha's boyfriend) at his parents' house. Tomorrow: more Mother's Day stuff, including a cookout over here. Somewhere in there we have to find time for lawn mowing, grocery shopping, and house cleaning. Oh, and I have to do some teacher work. I'll probably get fussy.
You're much nicer than I am. Yes, we knew that, but I'm just sayin'! Your siblings rock to be corralled into such ventures.
Hope you have a lovely Mother's day. :D
Posted by: Wende | May 12, 2007 at 02:57 PM
Your parents won't pay someone to do something for them because that generation did for themselves and it just doesn't occur to them to ask someone else to do it. My 86 year old Dad had never hired anyone to do anything for him until last year when he had the downstairs carpeted (over hardwood he didn't want to refinish himself again). That poor carpet layer! My Dad reconfigured the cutting plan to maximize it so he didn't have to order a foot more even though it resulted in a seam where there shouldn't have been one, and he could afford better himself too. It's just not in their blood.
Posted by: Pam L | May 12, 2007 at 06:12 PM
I bet your parents are squealing with delight over their New Porch! That was a great idea. I hope the many hands made light work and not just to many butts on the porch...
Are you going to get a 2nd opinion? So many of my friends who've had 2 kids close together end up getting their utes vamoosed. And their bladders re-hung. I'm with Vicki on the doubting side of "This is fab." But if you've got troubles down there, you don't have too many options.
Give those girls of yours and April a big squeeze today. I'll do the same to my charming duet.
Happy Mother's Day, Mary!
Posted by: MsCellania | May 12, 2007 at 06:38 PM
Mother's Little Helper is a double entendre, oui? Sometimes you worry me, Mary. Restorative yoga between your myriad of activities would help you heal and relax.
Mother Mary
On the day marked "Mother's"
Mary's sweet druthers
Are doing for others.
We are loath to see Mary get fussy.
For then Josh might have to get wussy.
We should send a tussy mussy.
Dearest Miz S,
You need to rest.
For you're the best!
xo
Posted by: babette | May 12, 2007 at 09:52 PM
Glad the cystoscopy is over. Once you've had all your bits properly fixed you will feel like a new woman.
Glad you planned a good day with your mum.
Posted by: cazza | May 12, 2007 at 11:06 PM
OR, you could go with your gut instinct and use the little "helper." Hee, Babette.
Posted by: Wende | May 12, 2007 at 11:31 PM
Happy Mother's Day !!! I hope you get an IPOD. I'm sad about the whole pelvic floor ordeal. I like how you yada, yada through the bad parts to save your gentle readers.
Mostly, I had tears in my eyes that you busy people would make a nice porch area for your adorable parents. I think my brothers and sisters would have hired someone. Tommorow we will have mom over for dinner. We will sit in cool air and sip lemonade. If all goes well I will not see any nature at all. I am the worst summer person in the world. Happy Mother's Day to all you moms that read Miz S's blog. I enjoy all of you but especially Vicki, Angie and Babette. If Angie were there she would have built a new porch, sewn slipcovers, made homemade cobbler and lemonade.. all before 9 am . That us why we love her. I raise my glass to you ladies, cheers !
Posted by: the bee | May 13, 2007 at 04:39 AM
I'm smiling because that may well be the screen porch of many parents. It's as though they stop noticing or caring much about details that, at an earlier time, would have bothered them. Probably because they don't see and smell as well. Don't you love thinking of the day when your girls come home to find you happily confused amidst cat piss? That's a wonderful gift to your mother and we'll be lucky if our children do as much for us. Good job, Mary. Post pictures?
Double entendre? I thought you could only be talking about one thing. Get rid of it and go to Disney World.
Happy Mother's Day, dear friend. You're the best and I hope you get the iPod of your dreams. You already got the guy and the girls- so what else is there?
P.S. Maybe you will go to the Heaven of Perfect Teachers someday. There's a hellish thought, yes? For now, settle for nearly perfect.
Posted by: vicki | May 13, 2007 at 09:04 AM
Wow. Is the porch all nice now?
I worry that cat will just pee there again.
Yes, rest when you can.
The perfect year of teaching and learning is a rare treat. You are doing great. I think in California mandatory testing will not start until third grade soon. Is it the same for you?
That should help matters a little.
When testing makes our bright teachers feel defeated and disappointed something is wrong with the system.
Posted by: raehan | May 13, 2007 at 10:00 PM
I enjoy projects like that because they are a definite imrovement, and I feel very helpful when I do them. However, cat piss...echhhh! As for teaching, I still feel the way you do after 27 years. It is NORMAL. Have a glass of wine.
Posted by: Margaret | May 14, 2007 at 01:07 AM
I am positive you are a kick ass teacher. I know your parents were all smiles and thrilled with having you all with them. You are such a good daughter. Happy Mother's Day, Mary.
Posted by: Angie | May 14, 2007 at 06:51 AM
You're a good daughter; my mother should be so lucky.
Glad the procedure went okay. That crack about the betadine made me laugh.
Posted by: Vanessa | May 14, 2007 at 05:02 PM
You know how I can tell you are a good teacher? Because you get fussy at the end of the year for the right reasons.
Glad the test is over, sorry about all the blah, blah, doctorese you had to hear.
My hubby and I went to my mom's on Sunday and did some little jobs for her. Nothing big, just those little ones that pile up and are annoying.
PS. Hmmm, if Babette was really good she would have rhymed cystoscopy. ;~)
Posted by: Gail | May 14, 2007 at 08:37 PM
I don't smell well because of years of formalin exposure and chronic sinus problems. But, my dad has the same problem. He is 78 and slowing way down, yet he thinks he can fix plumbing, electrical problems and other such things by himself.... he is always resistant to getting someone who knows what they are doing, to do it. Sigh! I retire to my room during these conversations between he and my mom. Where is my Advil?
Posted by: srp | May 16, 2007 at 11:24 AM