My overstuffed brain

Multitasking has never gotten the better of me before, until this week. I just became so overwhelmed with everything that I couldn’t concentrate on anything. So, as therapy, I went and washed dishes, drank a beer, and went to bed. I woke at 3 a.m. with the same problem: overstuffed brain. Too much going on in there! Ack!

So, to continue with my self-therapy, I have taken to writing. Maybe by emptying my brain onto the page (screen, whatever) I will be able to function normally…well, function, again.


Yes, I am supposed to be grading 50 essays right now. Yes, I’m procrastinating. But, I have learned from past experience and that is to not grade while angry. Why did the class average a “D” for this essay? Mrs. Walker was in a lousy mood so everything she read was crap. I know the work isn’t complete crap. Maybe just a little crap. I had an awful day with the boys. Had some gypsies been in the vicinity, I would have gladly sold my children to them. Ugh! Therefore, no energy, lousy mood, no grading tonight. Tim will be taking the boys away in the morning.

While the boys are out, I get to finish making the living room allergen-free. Yippie! Super-cleaning this house is a tremendous amount of work. Drake and I spent all morning on Monday at the allergist. Let’s add to his issues, shall we? Like this poor kid doesn’t have enough going on that we need to throw allergies into the mix. The list of allergies has expanded: grass, mold, dust mites, dogs, cats, peanuts, egg whites, and soybeans. Holy cow! We’ve been going back and forth with the pharmacist. The doctor prescribed Flonase for the boy and she really doesn’t want to give it to him. Not recommended for children under 4. When we saw the doctor, he told us that if Drake were 10, he’d put the boy on allergy shots. That’s how bad his allergies are. Give him the damn Flonase! He hasn’t been able to breathe through his nose in a month. She finally gave us the meds today. Sheesh! So, yeah, cleaning the house. I’ve finished both boys’ rooms. I am systematically going through the rest of the house. He can’t be present while I clean, and Flynn isn’t much help.

It dawned on my today that I have reached the point in my career that I am teaching people who were born the year I graduated high school. And, for the first time in my career, I feel old. I didn’t feel old last quarter, oddly enough. Here’s what started me down the old path. On the first day of class, I let my students ask me any question they want (barring my weight and age- no woman should have to answer those questions). One student asked me what my favorite movie was. I didn’t answer right away because I was thinking. I have such eclectic tastes that I can’t narrow it down to ONE favorite. So, she switched the question to what was my favorite comedy. Without missing a beat I reply A Fish Called Wanda. …chirp…chirp… nothing. Blank stares. One person had heard of it. One. I didn’t bother discussing the merits of Sean Connery as James Bond. I’ve never felt this disconnected from a group of students. At least we all have Facebook.

I didn’t sign up to be a 1950’s housewife, but that is what I have become. Don’t get me wrong; I am ecstatic that Tim is gainfully employed again. I got spoiled having him work from home all those years. If I needed to go to the doctor, I could at any time. I could schedule a hair appointment during the week. I could leave the house for an hour on a day like today and he would be there to watch the kids. The boys miss him. I love to see them when he comes home; they both get so excited and run to the kitchen to meet him. I pretty isolated. I did join a couple of mom groups, but I haven’t really bonded with anyone. I haven’t really been trying. Overcoming my introverted tendencies is a real challenge. Drake seems to be making friends wherever he goes: the waiting room at the allergist, in the McDonald’s play area, the park. But, when we go on playdates for the mom groups, it ends up in disaster. I know of at least two kids Drake doesn’t get along with (for a variety of reasons), and now that he is getting older, he’s starting to push back. Someone always ends up in tears. It’s tough to get to know other adults when you are distracted by your child’s meltdowns. I’ve been here four and a half years, and I still haven’t created a friend base. At least I look good in pearls. I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

I never could have made it as a doctor. You have to remember so many different things and the combination of those things and the combination of combinations of those things. For example, the doctors at the hospital couldn’t figure out what happened to my Mom last week. She met with another doctor on Tuesday. He made the diagnosis of Prinzmetal’s angina. Anyone? Anyone? Never heard of it. Had to look it up. Or the GI specialist that diagnosed Drake as having alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency. Never heard of that one either. I’m slowly learning so much about medicine with this family. But, if I ever hear the phrase “It’s not uncommon” uttered by a medical professional again, I will punch him/her in the face.

My brain is still stuffed, but it is no longer overstuffed. I realize that I am just bitching. It’s that what therapy is all about? I could go on, but I don’t want to scare you…more than you already are.