Waaaah!

There's no excuse for feeling sorry for yourself, unless you are
1. a baby who doesn't know better, or
2. a very flawed woman who DOES know better, but does it anyway, because you are so very flawed

And I'm a baby. And today, I am feeling really sorry for myself, even though I have nothing to feel sorry about. I have two beautiful sons, one beautiful daughter-in-law, one beautiful husband, one beautiful chocolate lab, one fairly attractive cat, and two beautiful stepsons who happen to have a beautiful mother who is in Germany right now, having flown there business class to spend ten days at an elite horse show, which worked out with her schedule just fine (since we were willing to keep the boys an extra five days), on account of the fact that she DOESN'T HAVE A JOB and DOESN'T WORK and therefore DOESN'T HAVE A SCHEDULE.

Ay, yi, yi. It is so useless and so petty and so small and so unproductive to feel resentful of this thing, this imbalance of lifestyle. But sometimes, I really, really do. I wish I were more like the heroes I admire, Gandhi and Mark Twain. I wish I were better at discipline and serenity and off-beat folksy humor. But the bottom line is, it gets me. There are so many other people I would like to be giving money to, so many other causes I would like to support, yet I have no choice, and so I support A Life Of Leisure For Blood Runs Cold While We Work Our Fingers To The Bone And Many Others, So Much More Deserving, Do Without, and this is the way it is.

It wouldn't be so bad except that we are 5oK in debt due to six years of really unfair alimony payments and continued child support that have ultimately afforded her this luxury. Also, that on the day before Mother's Day, Blood Runs Cold's boyfriend, Studmuffin, drove both the boys to our house in the middle of the day so they could get some money to buy her a Mother's Day gift. Now tell me, is that whacked or what? We are put in the position of either saying, "Of course we will give you money to honor your loving mother on Mother's Day!" or "Dudes. Seriously. Tell Studmuffin to give you some of his own money, or mow her neighbor's lawn and earn some, or make a card or something. But don't ask us to pay for your mom's gift, okay? And next time, think before you ask us such a stupid question."

Still simmering a bit over that one. But of course, Perfect Man chose the former course of action, because he loves his boys so much, and sees all of this crap as the minutia it really is, and wants his boys to grow up loving both his parents and experiencing as little conflict as possible. He is better than Gandhi, and better than Mark Twain. He is my real hero, and I love him with all my heart.