Hang Ten, Baby!

My apologies for not writing in a bit, I am still reeling from the downward spiral of my prednisone withdrawal. It was so beautiful and ultimately, so wrong. Kind of like your first pathetic teenage love. You think you found the one, but you know he’s a bastard through and through. The breakup is rough and in your limited experience, earth-shattering. You are certain you won’t survive, let alone recover. I know that you’re all familiar with the pain, and eventually it makes for a hilarious story to tell the bunko babes. But for now, I look longingly, almost lovingly, into the medicine cabinet and wonder if I will ever feel that way again.

(cue the-lifetime-movie-of-the-week music)

In other news, I had my 10-year wedding anniversary. And it is a bit of miracle we pulled it off, because that man of mine was just bound and determined to make me sign the papers on him before the big day. I swear to you that he was testing me, and my well-worn resolve, to make damn sure that I was in it to win it. I told him he must have some deep-seeded fear of success, because rather than finding a gift, I was about to find a lawyer should he decide to keep it up. Nothing seriously big, but you know the insane types of behavior that partners do which should be delivered in boxes with radioactive stickers on them. No human life should have to be exposed to those fools, when they just can’t stop themselves. I realize that I too have the crazy-making gene, but you’ve got to know when to put it on the shelf, especially when someone is about to pop the champagne. You never know where that cork may end up!

Of course, he apologized and apologized and once again, apologized. When asked how many times he should apologize, I suggested however many it takes to reverse the spinning of our planet and turn back time and behave like a man who just won the wonderful wife lottery. He needs to jump up and down like Howie Mandel just handed him a 1-million-dollar-case marked 10 (Deal or No Deal matrimony-style).

Honestly, it’s the greatest thing. We’ve been together a decade, how about that for cool? There is much to celebrate. And I was particularly thrilled that we made it over the finish line without any bodily harm coming to anyone.

Now, I face the visit of my mother-in-law. I am preparing myself, and the house, and making a schedule of events and sightseeing. There is a lot to be done in the next couple of days. I hope it will go well. My mom is signed on to help with the entertaining and handling. I am psyched about that, she is nothing short of a saint. A true saint, because she is both willing and excited.

There are going to be a lot of Moms in the mix—mine, Dave’s and me (the frazzled mother-in-training). The combination of that many mothers is stress inducing. Anyone who would not be stressed with that much mom-ness is either lying, dead, or orphaned at a young age. Then there is the distant goal of pleasing folks and meeting some very-low level of expectations of fun. I remain optimistic that loads of wine and a stealth pouring while head’s are turned will result in some merriment, or at minimum amnesia.