January 26, 2009

Monday

I made it back to Colorado yesterday just in time to drive 3 hours in the snow. The nice thing about Colorado weather is that while it is snowing, the sunshine comes out as well. Which is a good thing, because I'm stressed to the hilt.

Danny and the kids "cleaned" up. Today, I recleaned because I can't stand walking on crunchy things that one might find at the of a chip bag or cereal box. You can't really see the crunchy things on the floor, but you can feel them. Maybe I'm over sensitive due to the stress. Humor me...

Mom is still in the hospital and not doing so well. I honestly don't know what else can be done to help her. I am going to burn a palm tonight (a veryy superstitous Catholic thing), but it makes ME feel better. I can't help but be angry right now. Too many "why" questions...not enough faith to stop the doubt. Maybe that's part of the grieving process and this feeling will pass. I don't know! I haven't lost a parent before and I am finding it difficult to draw from practical experience in order to process all this. Who cares that I'm a medical social worker and I see this in my job. This is MY mom I'm talking about now.

I am also feeling guilty for having to come home to my kids. But, they need me too. Lots of stuff going on at school for both of them. Tony is also getting braces. Marisa is trying out for the golf team. And, let's face it, Danny is the brreadwinner in our family. He can only take off so much to handle domestic/parenting issues that crop up eveyday. I know that sounds 1950-ish, but true! In this economy, we want to minimize the personal time off.

While I was in Texas, my cousin made the best homemade chicken pot pie! Flossie...you need to get me that recipe!

1 comment:

  1. I wish there was something I could say to help you feel better. I'm sure it's sad to wonder why she has to be so sick and why now. Even though I know there is a reason for everything that happens and we have a lesson to gain from things like this, it would still be hard to go through.

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