Uniquely not Special (or special but not unique?)

I took this picture just 2 days ago. I'm very proud of it but then I realized it looks like every other butterfly picture you can Google.

Grandma is having alot of bad days (see previous blog, or don't) and then she tries hard to say nice things to cover it up. So she tells me how very wonderful the be-crutched grandson is, and how she's sorry she insisted he fetch us even though he assured her he would stay with her during a heart-racing episode (a.fib.). I assured her he understood and then she adds, "Well he went to get you -but you know how fast he is." Ha ha. It is always difficult politics when one vulnerable group is being insensitive to another vulnerable group. Make it my mother and my son and I am feeling that none of my vulnerabilities  have been spared.
 Apparently there were some spared (past tense). Yesterday provided further evidence that the University I work for is moving further away from using adjuncts. What had seemed, a few years ago, like an indefinite gig, has become spotty and may now be moving to ... spotless? I'm still teaching an undergraduate class in the spring. It hasn't been ruled out that I could still be the choice of last resort in the fall and might be used again next spring. The former would require a perfect storm of unavailabilities and the latter that I keep a rather fussy course director happy and confident in his mentoring skills and the undergrads entertained enough to give the class high marks. I could now launch into a tirade against educational systems and standards. I really could but clearly that would not be unique or special.
 But here's the thing. If they do stop hiring me at this unnamed institute of higher learning I don't have any equivalent teaching/job opportunities. And when I say "equivalent" I mean ones that will sound as impressive. If I mention I teach and am asked what grade? people are at least mildly impressed I teach at a college level (only if pressed did I reluctantly admit graduate school) and if  asked   is it at the local community college?,  then I say (looking humble) I'm at . Yes, that's me. Dr Somebody at Impressive School, teacher of future Dr. Somebodies (or at least somebodies with extra letters behind names), definitely not tired-mom-of-weird-bearded-guy-on-crutches or (really it's and) harassed-daughter-of-toothless-old-woman-with-colostomy. My supportive husband suggests this last would be a good country song but really I'm thinking -not so much.

Bubbles don't last

Can you see the bubbles? They were beautiful bubbles. That was just 4 days ago but it always seems like another life when we are at Grandma's house. She was happy at this particular moment but the day before she was regretting being there, having the house, pretty much being alive.  And the coffee is never weak enough or hot enough or strong enough or sweet enough.  My eldest is too slow and the youngest too loud and the other two too away. I know her pain is bad.  And it has to be hard to be so dependent when you prided yourself on your independence etc etc etc. I just can't "go there" any more. I can't try to feel like I'm 94 too. I remember the day I realized I couldn't live my life in constant empathy with my first born. Or rather I couldn't live always feeling guilty for not being able to empathise, for enjoying a working body. I shouldn't mention this in all probability but it improved relations with my husband enormously. That is as in relations  because in retrospect I realized that nothing* quite kills the mood like saying, "honey do you think those new orthotics are really going to help the baby walk?"  

 

But that mood was beside the point. That day I knew, in fact the heavens seemed to pretty much open up and shout it at me,  that being miserable for my child would do him absolutely no good. And God wasn't offering me a trade. I don't have CP or a shunt, or seizures and if I did he'd still have his. It was clear and it freed me up alot.

 It just doesn't seem so clear with my mom because I'm not always sure it is so clear to her. I'm not sure she's not mad sometimes because I'm "still young" and because when we're in pain we don't make alot of sense. I'm going to write myself a note and give it to my children in 20 or 30 years. "Hey guys, don't feel bad about being able to get around easily. I had my turn." Oh, except I won't give the note to my eldest. He still hasn't had his turn.

* except discussion of one's mother's colostomy - that'll bury a mood pretty good.

weeding would be nice

Yes, somewhere under there is a garden. meanwhile Grandma is crying because she "can't figure out a way out of this mess our country is in." I thought pointing out that if she did no one would listen.  I figure these things out all the time and no one listens. Certainly not the new associate pastor (remember this is an anonymous blog so I'll deny it if you quote me) or the church ladies that make me crazy. Fortunately there are the church ladies who keep me sane - that's what church is for -it brings balance to my life. 
  Besides I can move on to complaining about the 2nd grade teacher who may be the first woman I've seen with a Napoleon complex. Not that she's trying to over subjugate all of Europe -unless you substitute all of Europe with "7 year old boys". She is attempting to bring them to heel.
 Meanwhile the eldest is settling into his basement digs nicely and Grandma duties and I when he was late getting her lunch and she tried to be funny (or was it encouraging) by saying, "Well at least you can walk.." and something else but I missed that because I was busy walking away so I wouldn't point out that what he does is barely walking.
 The other two offspring are away in their various educational pursuits so I only worry about them when they call. Or when they don't. I imagine that if they would just find some lovely Christian spouses and settle down and provide grandchildren all my worries would be over (at least regarding these two). I never said I wasn't delusional.
Also there's funny goings on in academia and I am sure I did a good job with that undergraduate class but 3 of the 8 who turned in evaluation didn't so my "bottom line" score is "of concern" and now I am forced into using run on sentences just to get over it. In my defense let me point out one complained I went too slow, one that I said too much and one that I didn't post my notes. That one even used the word "punitive" to describe this despicable insistence on note-taking. I was impressed.
 But the garden gets weedier everyday and I am beginning to despair of recovering it before the winter. There was no real point to this point except I hadn't posted in a few weeks. No insights. No funny story. Just weeds.