The mad rantings of a crazy women

When life throws me lemons, I cut them open, eat their sour middles, grimace at their almost unbearable puckerage and lay in bed for hours obsessing about how I didn’t make lemonade, but really, I was out of sugar.

I don’t take rejection well. And truth be told, I haven’t had a lot of it to contend with, thank God. This freelance career move might not have been the best for my sanity.

The thing is, and I won’t mince words here, I like to write and I often like what I write. Even as I write these words I’m thinking, “God! What an egomaniac.” I’m also thinking, “Hey. Can’t the girl feel proud of something without you jumping down her throat.”

I think I might have come upon my problem. I’m crazy.

In the last couple of days, I’ve had some success and some minor, and I’m talking minuscule, disappointments. I feel like every nerve ending in my body just had a Starbucks espresso. And I have to wonder, am I cut out for this? A lifetime of uncertainty and, at times, certain rejection.

I think I’ll have a hot bath, a crossword puzzle and sleep on it. After all, writing is the only thing I’m qualified to do, so I might as well do it.

After all, I can make lemonade whenever. I can only write until arthritis kicks in.

For all of you here to hear about the girls, which is probably all of you, Penny had her 6-month checkup and is doing great. She’s still at over the 100th percentile in weight and height. Steve and I get all worked up at thoughts of pro-athlete sisters. Steve loves to imagine how the girls will tower over me. How funny will he think it is when they tower over him?

Tomorrow, Penny gets her hips X-rayed to see if the brace fixed the dysplacia. More updates to follow.

Also, and this is kind of funny, Penny hardly cried at all over her shots today. And she hardly cried at 2 months, although she bawled at 4 months. The difference? Steve was there at 4 months. Turns out, he’s so torn up over the girls’ pain that his stress gets projected to them. Just my theory, although I'm hardly ever wrong.

I think it’s awesome he cares that much. What’s more worrisome is my lack of empathy. One more for the “Bad Mommy” file.

I'll just suck on these lemons until I fall asleep.