La La How The Life Goes On

A Cavalcade of Rant

Posted on: December 12, 2012

It’s been a while since I have had a good, enjoyable rant in these pages, so here is the latest download:

1. Dear Neighbor, just because I am a Stay At Home Mom does not mean I am carte blanche available to watch your children on short notice. Were your needs truly “short notice” I would be delighted to help out. However, it seems by the recurring frequency of your requests (with often one day’s heads up) that your interpretation of same is more accurately described as “not bothering to set up appropriate day care because you have a neighbor for that.” Please stop. In the meantime, I’m going to have to say no even at the times when I could say yes to ensure you cease viewing me as your (un)official back up child care center. Why? Because even though I don’t get the fun of going to a place full of other adults talking about adult things and being, you know, adult humans who then bring home a check full of money, I do have actual real shit to take care of, as ad-hoc as my “job” might seem to you. Because the mere 3 1/2 hours a day that I am sans children are actually pretty packed…and not with watching Oprah, doing pilates or shtupping my yoga instructor. For example, at least one or two days a week are completely eaten up by my Dana Farber appointments. One of which involves me leaving my house at 5am, getting the treatment, running home, jamming some food in my face then picking up baby sister from preschool. The day leaves me pretty much physically ruined for 24 hours afterward: tired, dehydrated and ready for bed by 7pm, hanging by my fingernails. So, yeah, I’m “home” and “not working” but I’m thinking you don’t want to trade with me, right?

2. Which leads us to The Good People of Dana Farber. Oh my lord, TOO MUCH SERVICE, Dana Farber! My recent infusion for my osteoporosis was punctuated by a hipster-looking dude clutching a fancy bottle of lotion. He was from the Something Something Care Team, and they offer patients undergoing chemo, etc “relaxing massages in your chair.” Oh. Dear. God. No. The only person I dread more than a hospital chaplain or a roving Christmas harpist…is the While-U-Wait Masseur. First, because I am a child. I simply cannot separate massages from sex, or if not actual intercourse, at least sexytimes. The second the hipster dude (very professionally, to be fair) offered the massage, I immediately sized him up, like, “yeah, you look like a kid who knew his way around a bottle of a lubriderm back in the day. I’ll take a pass.” Second, because I have no interest in prettying up my hospital visit. It’s an item on my lengthy to do list, a series of seemingly never-ending items that already suck up too much of my time and energy. You’ll forgive me for wanting to get there, git ‘er done, and get out. Do I use this time to laugh and joke with the awesome staff and other cool patients? Perhaps read a People Magazine or two to stay up to date on The Royal Baby ™? Absolutely. I am always thrilled to interact with grown ups and get gossip. But do I want these grown ups greasing me up and rubbing me down? No, sir, I do not. So I now beg of DF to provide fewer services. USA Today senior citizen man with his cart full of papers and coffee and snack wells? Keep! Roving bands of Millennials offering me reiki, massage, art therapy and other trifles of sociology-based human relations majors and minors from exclusive liberal arts institutions? No thanks. 😉

3. Speaking of fewer good things, this is the point in Chanukah where I wish that Maccabee oil had given out after, maybe, 4 days. Eight days of presents, folks. Eight days of jacked-up children who are now suddenly all about family togetherness where it involves candle lighting (gifts and candy). Eight days of them not really eating dinner because they are too excited for the candles (gifts and candy). Eight days of them being giddy about the victory of the Jewish people over oppression and assimilation (gifts and candy). It’s like 8 consecutive Christmas Eves with all the crazy that entails. And we don’t even get them awesome gifts! (Night 3! Enjoy your book and socks!) it’s just too damn much. Next year: I say we do it all the first night. 8 gifts, one night. And then it’s all about the candles. (Candy?)

Until next time, Happy (still!) Chanukah and a joyeux Advent, mes amis! I’m off to DF. Maybe today they’ll be offering haircuts-while-u-wait. Just in time for Christmas! (And more Chanukah).


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