This widowhood shit is hard. Really really hard.
People asked me “what can I do” from the start which is really nice – if only I could think of something that would be useful. I can feed us and look after the kids just fine. My mental health, however can vary between “fine” and “Fucked up” really quickly.
My BFF however, is working on my mental health…
My BFF (I’ve known her since we were 11) not only brings me food on a semi regular basis, does nice stuff for me and my kids, but one of the main things she does is e-mail me every single day. Not the condescending “how are you, poor poor you”, rather “how are you? – if you don’t tell me I’ll assume you are crap and make you food / make you laugh”.
And I do laugh. Every day when she sends me an e-mail. She and I share a sick sense of humour and she gets me every time.
I know that if I fall in a screaming heap, she’s got my back.
So just for today, I’ve cut and paste one of our daily exchanges below for you to see how “supporting the grieving widow” works for us.
From: D & J
Sent: Monday, 14 June 2010 9:20 PM
How was your weekend? Did you get up to anything interesting? Get plagued by any outlaws? Get any outlaws making good on their promises of help?
Tried to call you today, but assumed that you were only taking calls from those not stalking you. No matter, cupcake, when I move in up the road, I’ll be able to get you via the intercom I’m having installed in your house. It’s only because I love you this much that I invade every inch of your personal space.
Anyway, D took the girls for half of each of the days of the weekend, which gave me some peace (much-needed after K’s wigout and my poor handling of it and subsequent beating myself up for not doing better) and time to do some jobs around here. Didn’t get them all done, of course, because I was calling up places about intercoms….. but I’ll get there.
Fr*gging hell, this baby of ours is bad for my ageing back- I need a chiro on staff, to add to the chef, masseuse, gardener, cleaning lady, and very extremely hot pool boy
D just asked “How can you name a toy urine?” I said “What?” He said “Wii”. To which I responded “How can you name a toy Pooh?”. Stupid morons.
Quote of the day: Bush said today he is being stalked. He said wherever he goes, people are following him. Finally, someone told him, ‘Psst. That’s the Secret Service.’
Hope you get some sleep tonight, and you are OK. See you tomorrow J
Sent: Monday, 14 June 2010 9:41 PM
To: ‘D & J’
Didn’t I e-mail you earlier to let you know that it was a genuine not-home thingy? You, my dear, are one of the privileged few who do not get screened. Unless I’m on the dunny – then it’s pretty much a given that I won’t pick up. You can thank me later.
H is sick – croup I think, but since we’ve never had it before I’m not sure. He’s talking in a whisper but barking like a seal and has a ripper temperature to boot.
In other news, the fluoro light in the kitchen died this afternoon (AFTER the shops were shut) and I broke a bit getting the bulb out. I will try a new bulb or maybe just ring my nephew and ask him to come and fix it.
Welcome to my fucked up life (FUL) where every little thing is like another punch in the pancreas. Actually, you may qualify on your own for a FUL as you have the requisite amount of fuckupery going on in your family with food intolerances and associated pain.
Hmmm – better go turn the tv off – some knob is singing “Mandy” and I hate that song….
PS – are you as extremely unexcited about the fete as I am? I have no idea how I’ll be simultaneously manning the stalls I said I’d do, getting my kids to their appointed entertainment locations and chaperoning them on any rides they may be lucky enough to get on (or rather being ready to punch the ride-operators in the pancreas if they are mean to the kids). Dammit – I did the last fete by myself and said I’d never go alone again and that G would have to come too. Bastard will get out of it again! When I get to heaven I’ll tell him that he owes me bigtime.
From: D & J
Sent: Monday, 14 June 2010 10:02 PM
To: ‘Amanda ‘
Man, that made me laugh! Not at your misfortune, just the way you worded it. I’ve never had a punch in the pancreas, but you make it sound so appealing.
We had a similar light bulb experience the other day. I thought I’d change the bulb in the girls’ room, so D didn’t have to do it (as a boy job) for once. I thought we’d both be proud of me. But the stupid bulb came right off the metal housing bit. Used pliers to GENTLY try and unscrew the metal bit, but it shattered into heaps of bits and the main bit was still left screwed in. Nothing is easy, is it?
Sorry about H. Poor thing.
We can take your two around on the rides with us if you like. They might think that is fun, because remember that I am, in fact, H’s preferred mother, and I don’t threaten their lives. It’s all in the detail. Also, we have to take S to choir anyway, so can take your two as well if you like. We haven’t volunteered on any stalls, so happy to help you out since that slack-ass husband of yours has bailed on you again. The HIDE of some people.
When you get to Heaven, tell him I was mighty p*ssed at him for leaving you, because he was a good egg.
See you tomorrow.
PS thanks for not talking to me on the crapper.
Some people won’t get this. That’s OK. I do, and J does. ….
QOF, YWHNB, SLF, BFF….