A Vacation High

A Mother of the Year I know is frequently posting Facebook status reports about her wonderful life with her handsome husband and beautiful children.
You know who you are. And I admit that occasionally I have had less-than-charitable feelings toward you because of your perennially sunny disposition and outlook.
I now understand that I have been jealous. I further understand that part of the reason your life is so great is that you look at your life as being so great.
This burst of enlightenment has come to me courtesy of a fortunate confluence of events. First and foremost is that I have finally managed to regulate both my happy pills and my hormones in a way that allows me to smile without grimacing and fold laundry without the urge to tie bra straps around my own neck.
Secondly, I am on vacation in Destin, Florida and currently writing this from a balcony overlooking the crystal aqua waters of the Gulf of Mexico. And my parents are paying for the condo.
Thirdly - and possibly most importantly - I think I might be maturing. After 4.5 decades of life, I think I have realized that the world doesn’t revolve around me. Nobody really cares about my crow’s feet or the fact that I wear the same clothes for three days in a row or whether I shave my legs. Life goes on for billions of people regardless of whether I’ve bounced a check or waxed my eyebrows or served my children cupcakes for breakfast.
Now, I know you’re thinking that I should have come to this conclusion many, many years ago. But I didn’t, mainly because I am at heart a pretty selfish person. In time, I think I will expound on the reasons I may have developed into a selfish person.
Right now, though, I’m just happy. Life’s not perfect: Husband just took the Tyrant to the urgent care clinic because she either has an ear infection or swine flu and is keeping us up all night with a tubercular cough. I have a cavity. I know it’s a cavity because I went to the dentist and he told me it was a cavity but I canceled my cavity-filling appointment because it interfered with a workout schedule, and now I’m paying the price. And I still have this 24-hour, 32-minute drive to Cape Cod looming before me.
But the coffee is strong, the wine is cold, the seafood is fresh, and the sisters are having fun together. The eye-rolling has been tolerably limited.
It’s a good day. I think I’ll go relax and wait for something to fuck it up.

Addendum: the Tyrant has pneumonia. That has definite fuck-up potential. But I’m looking on the bright side. It’s only in one lung.