The Timing of Bad Things

 

 

Pine trees’ branches are pretty resilient. They bounce back amazingly well after the winter. But you still wonder, looking at them, if this is the season they will snap.

When there is already snow and a blizzard blows in, you think about the additional weight on branches that are already drooping.

But…

When spring arrives and there’s a blizzard, you think about how the soft, new pine needles (who were enjoying the warm sun) will deal with being encased in ice crystals.

We have a lot of little sayings about how awful it is to have something bad happen when things are already bad.

 

Kick you when you’re down

Rub salt in the wound

Add insult to injury

 

I guess you could say: When bad things have bad timing

But can we say: When bad things have good timing

???

I mean, what about when we’re happy? Healthy?

Is that when we’d prefer bad things to happen to us? Maybe we think we can manage easier if we’re not already distressed.

I get that. I do.

If we’re beaten down, we don’t have our footing never mind a good stance to do battle.

But, honestly, when things are going well, it’s still incredibly difficult. Just in a different way.

When you’re flying high, the fall is a lot longer and you hit the ground with a hell of a lot more force.

Just pondering the pine trees…

 

My random thoughts in (slightly over) 200 words.

When bad things come your way, it doesn’t really matter if you’ve got your face planted in the dirt or you’re feelin’ groovy. The thing is to take care of yourself. Be well, my friends.

 

 

Migraines and Manicures

 

 

“I totally have a migraine,” she flips her shiny hair over her shoulder and takes a sip of coffee.

“Those are the worst,” her friend says loudly and somewhat sympathetically.

The girl with the “migraine” looks up from her iPhone long enough to say, “They so are. Do you have an Advil?”

An anvil? Sure. I happen to have one here I can drop on your head to give you an idea of what it’s like to actually have a migraine.

When did this term become synonymous with a bad headache? Or a Frapuccino-sipping, hair-flipping mild one?

Three days ago, my head felt like a coconut being split open.

I felt like one of the extras in a B-rated horror movie, shrieking for a moment and having the camera linger on me long enough to show the audience I was the latest victim of an ax-wielding psycho star.

Actually, I might have welcomed having my head split open at the time. The pressure was…indescribable. I thought my brain might actually be swelling and pressing against my skull. Gross, right? I know. Then there’s the nausea and vomiting that goes along with the blinding pain, the vision problems, and the inability to move for fear of crumpling to the floor in agony. Not to mention (but I will) that if someone drops a spoon on the other side of the house, they may as well have hit you over the head with a frying pan. Oh, and you have to avoid sunlight like a vampire. Because. Pain.

You can’t read, write, eat, think… So, basically, you whimper (very quietly) and wish the time away. At least, that’s what I do.

This is how I spent my day—curled up in a ball under the covers with my hands desperately trying to cover my ears and my eyes at the same time. That didn’t work out well.

A migraine is a medical condition.

Seriously. It has symptoms and everything.

People, please, for the love of all that is good and covered in chocolate, stop. If you’re up and about, swishing your sweet coffee concoction, examining your manicure, pouting over your split ends, and texting, please don’t complain about your “migraine”.

It makes people who actually suffer from migraines feel miffed.

Okay, angry.

Okay, maybe it only makes me angry but this is my blog so…

 

 

I may be overreacting a tad here but, having just been through a 2-day adventure in agony (again), this was a fun little rant. And kind of overdue… Just saying. Do you suffer from migraines? How do you cope? Hopefully better than I do.

 

Late Night Snack

 

My husband and I are enjoying a late-night snack—relaxing after the kids go to bed. He is happily crunching on his healthy cereal as I’m munching on a leftover spring roll, drowning it in soy sauce. (No comments from the peanut gallery. Comment section below is for non-judgy-food friends only.)

As I was saying, we were enjoying some quiet time and snacking before bed. One of the few joys we have left as parents. I’m kidding. Not really. I take a bite of my forbidden fruit, all salty and spring rolly and yummy then casually ask:

“Do you really think he should go to school tomorrow?” Munch.

“If he doesn’t have a temperature.” Crunch.

“I don’t think he’s better.” Munch.

“Well, he’s not a hundred percent better but he’s been home three days so, if there’s no temp…” Crunch.

“You know what?” Munch. “Doesn’t matter. He has to be temp-free for a day before you can send him back to school.” Munch, munch.

“Really?” Crunch. “I thought it was vomit-free for a day.”

“Nope.” Munch. “Temp. Or is it diarrhea?”

“Oh, right.” Crunch. “Could be…”

So this is our life. It is.

 

My Sunday thoughts in 200 words or less.