Maybe it was the lasagna
So I had a couple of good days. I felt happy and good and pretty energetic. I was productive around the house and a little playful with the kids. Then last night I couldn’t sleep. I was hungry. It was that premenstrual hunger I sometimes get. My mind was racing and I was hungry. My book is also very good, so that doesn’t help. I tried to ignore the hunger, but it would not go away so I had to eat something. Then by the time I go downstairs, fix a snack, check my computer, eat a little more because I’m still hungry, go back upstairs and pee, I’m wide awake. So I read my book some more. I could have read longer, but I knew it was getting late, so I stopped reading. Sleep still did not come easily, but finally it did come.
The burst of energy was premenstrual as well. I like that kind of PMS better than the other kinds. But somehow it didn’t last. Aunt Flo teased me for a couple of days. I had some spotting, but nothing (except the energy and hunger). Then today she made a grand entrance. I have cramps and I feel crappy. But I felt good this morning, even if I was tired. We ate eggs and jelly toast and jasmine green tea. We watched a movie. I played with the kids. Chico Habib was upset because I have been busily cleaning the house and the porches for his birthday party on Sunday. He’s conflicted. On the one hand, he is excited about his party and presents, but on the other hand he is upset that I am spending so much time cleaning (and not being with him). Of course, I think this is made worse when I have been very withdrawn lately.
Anyway, I didn’t feel like cooking dinner because I was tired. I felt fine, though. Just tired. Krimboor and I talked about what do do about dinner. We have no quick to fix food. Apparently no one else wants to cook, either. Krimboor looks in the big freezer in the garage and then mentions the lasagna that is in there. I think he asked about the freezer burned lasagna, in fact. I asked if it was really freezer burned and he said he didn’t know. Then he said it’s been in there for months. I said it’s been in there since May 20. I remember making that lasagna. I remember it very well because I made it the day my niece passed away. It was made with love for a grieving family. It ended up in the freezer because lasagna is an easy meal to make and others brought lasagna to them also. I figured mine could wait. The kids wanted lasagna. I don’t know if my sister-in-law wants a lasagna that’s been in the freezer for four months, but still it feels wrong to eat it. I don’t think the kids understood. I don’t think Krimboor understands.
So Krimboor goes to town (the little town that has very few options) to get frozen pizzas. I ate hot dogs because of the whole gluten-free thing. Then we had dessert. Then the night went to shit. I tried to keep things together, but in the end I know I’m the one who lost it and made it crappy. Krimboor made the pizzas and served the kids. He emptied the dishwasher. Hubby played with the kids a bit and helped get them water or something. We were going to play a board game but the kids played for about 2 minutes and then went outside. I went out and they were playing in the creek. I figured I could go down to the end of the lane and mow while they played in the creek down that way. Krimboor comes in the house and sees me getting my shoes on and says I’m going to need his galoshes. FUCK. It’s muddy. I had forgotten. It’s a bad idea. I was going to walk down to the road (Chico Habib drove the mower with Mo in the trailer), but then Krimboor was making some comment about how I do whatever a 7 year old and a 4 year old want me to do. Hubby was in the house playing with his damn phone. Now I’m mad at Krimboor for his snide comment (and the fact that he was eating dessert but then asking the kids if they ate enough dinner when he knew how much they had eaten and knows we don’t exactly do that in our house and it was that patronizing tone that adults pretty much only use on kids, but would NEVER use on another adult). I’m mad at Hubby for being more connected to his phone than his family. So I come inside and pick a fight with him. He storms upstairs. FUCK FUCK FUCK. Now I’m mad and the guys are both mad and I fucked it all up.
I’m stressed because the downstairs has gotten messy because the kids got stuff out. Well, that’s not exactly right. I’m stressed because I know that if I don’t cajole everyone into helping pick up the downstairs that I will be picking it up tomorrow. I’m tired and I don’t want to do this. I don’t like seeing my hard work go unappreciated and undone so quickly. I felt stupid for thinking of mowing when I know it is too muddy to get the damn mower to the end of the lane. Of course it gets stuck. Krimboor’s boots don’t fit over my fat calves. He says he is sinking in pretty good, so I know that I will sink. If I get stuck, that’s worse than the mower getting stuck. Fuck it all. Now I give up. I can’t clean this house for the party all by myself. I can’t do it all by myself. I just can’t.
So I give up and sit in front of my computer. They get the mower out and everyone comes back to the house. Chico Habib wants my computer, my water, me. But he’s all muddy and I’m all upset. So I give him my computer and my water but not myself. Instead I picked up a bit and then sat in a chair near him. He seemed fairly happy, chattering to himself the whole time. Mo was drawing letters for Krimboor. The kitten was finally playing with the cat toy Krimboor brought home from the thrift store. I should be happy. Instead, I just sit in the chair feeling nothing. Krimboor goes home. Hubby gets the kids to play the game. They have fun and ask me to come play but I don’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want to do anything except go back to the two normal days I had.
I know this is jumbled. I know the story makes no sense. I suck at telling stories anyway. The point is, I was fine and now I’m not. And I can’t explain it. Except that maybe it was the lasagna. And I’m worried about my brother, which seems totally out of the blue, but it’s not. His group just moved to a different area in Afghanistan. There have been several people injured since they moved. How could I not be worried? I dream about Hubby’s dad a lot, too. I’m learning Spanish and I keep dreaming that he is sitting in a house (his house, our house, the location varies) and I ask him something in Spanish. Then I wake up and realize that I will never get to practice my Spanish with him and that we will never see him again. And then there’s the lasagna. How is it that a lasagna can set things on such a different course? I knew it was in there. I was just thinking about it last night and it made me smile because even if it doesn’t taste good, it was made with love. Even if they don’t want it, I can’t bare to eat it or let anyone else eat it or throw it out. I know it’s just a lasagna, but it’s also so much more. It’s a memory of a horrible day. It’s a memory of a little baby that should be here and isn’t. I miss her. I miss my father-in-law. Grief sucks and it sucks even more when it sneaks up on you.
