Toiletries

Little dude has dragged himself across the finish line of sixth grade, barely. From the last day of school on Friday, and the first day of camp on yesterday, a whole new person has been born, J is a boy of extremes. We’ve gone from misery, to unadulterated joy, silliness, happiness and plain old one with the world in a matter of hours. The wattage in his eyes is turned up a notch and it’s all good in Jonah’s world, and that means all is right in mine. Additionally, it’s been five days since I’ve heard from the sockless wonder or the camp nurse, so things must be going well there as well.

I have been trapped in a vortex of paper work, and paper work is my nemesis. I can never keep pages and information straight and I always find even the most direct questions ambiguous when they’re written down, expecting a concrete answer sans windy explanation is near impossible for me. I have papers to fill out for the divorce attorney, the bank refinance folks and the tax man which are all somewhat dependent upon each other, it’s a game of which came first, the chicken or the egg. I just don’t know what I spend each month on “toiletries and cosmetics”, “hair care”, or “entertainment and recreation”. Hell, I don’t even know what I spend on gas each month, let alone clothes... for me and then the kids, haven’t a clue. I pretty much had a rough estimate for groceries, but then I got to “toiletries and cosmetics” and realized I’d have to separate out toilet paper, Q-tips and shampoo. Are paper towels groceries or toiletries? What about the one time recent expenditure on clippers so I can save money by buzzing Griffin’s hair, which I’ve only done once, by the way, and it was really fun! Two months ago, my cosmetics expenditure would have been $0 but now I’ve got this nail polish thing. So you figure one bottle at $8 lasts two months, so that’s $4 a month on cosmetics. But what if I want a vast color selection? Is that a reasonable expenditure, or do I list just one sad utilitarian bottle? Oh shoot, I forgot about a top coat, need a bottle of that. Actually, I bought three bottles of the same color and I was at a party last week and someone saw my toes and said “bikini so teeny?” YES! Hot damn, I met someone with an obsession for the same color, small damned world! Seriously, that happened, it was a moment. There’s a section for pet care, so I deducted $10 per month for cat food, I’ve stopped taking the twins to the vet because they don’t go outside and I see no signs of pre-existing rabies. There’s a section for tobacco and alcohol and mine’s a six-pack every 4 months or so, so maybe I’ll leave that out and add on some more nail polish. “Entertainment and Recreation?” I mean how about if they look at the income and then just tell each of us how much we should be spending on tobacco, alcohol, entertainment, recreation and toiletries. And then, of course, there's all the spray paint I bought last week, what category does that go in?

I saw my oncologist today, for my 3 1/2 month visit. As if the insurance companies deem 3 months to often and 4 months too infrequent, I am told to go every 3 1/2 months. I am really quite thrilled to say that this was the first appointment where nothing new cropped up, nothing, gorgeous, beautiful nothing. Yes, my liver function tests are still to high, but they’re no higher than they were and I still have too much iron in my bloodstream, but no more than before and my cancer markers are steady, so I’m considering this a very successful visit. My oncologist confirmed to me that my current plan is a good one and trust me, he’s not a touchy, feely guy. My job right now is to raise my children and take care of my health. That taking the time to make green smoothies and go to the gym is far more important than anything else. And unfortunately, my feet aren’t going to get any better and my job is to learn to live with this disability and not pretend I can do more than I can. As in, no, I’m not getting a job stocking shelves at stop and shop or as infamous opposing attorney #1 suggested, getting a job at McDonald’s. I plan on getting my paperwork done. Word to the wise, let sleeping dogs lie, now that I’ve been kicked a few times, I’m seeing things a bit more clearly and am feeling much more motivated to advocate for myself. But as I am quite incompetent at that, being the most gullable pushover ever, who caves in before even being asked for something, and because my brain is also still in recovery, I am filling out my forms and simply handing them off to an attorney instructing her to be human, but to do the very best for me she can and I want no part of any negotiating. Hell, I have to pay her the same amount whether I’m a part of the negotiations or not, why be a part of that yuckiness? If we wind up in court, I’ll show up then and answer anything I’m asked. And then, so long secondary insurance... and vision and dental too.

I’ve realized that the mythology of my marriage was that I was in control... I was in control of nothing... I wasn’t the one getting my way, because my way would have been to have been in a lively, loving, mutual relationship that was growing, changing, deepening, evolving. My way would have been to have a life moving forward, not the static and then regressing mess I wound up with. Sure I had a role to play, but no, I wasn't in control, that was a deception. No, that was an urban legend, I wasn’t getting my way, and I didn’t get my way in several important areas of our pre-canciferous agreement, but I think I’d like to start... getting my way that is.

I’m stepping off the gerbil wheel. Deep breathe in, deep breathe out. I have a hot date tonight with a fez-wearing sweetie pie, for chinese food and Doctor Who {Tom Baker era} where of course, we gasp and laugh at the same split second, guaranteed. Life is good, even with stacks of partially filled out forms and co-pay bills everywhere I look.