Guest Post

Since I was out this week and didn't have access to a computer, I wasn't able to post this earlier.  I have it now, so enjoy!  Thanks, Marsha for helping me out and sorry for the delay.  I would like to challenge all of you to be without a computer in another town for 5 days while you're not on vacation.  Go ahead, try.

 

Melissa is incommunicado and asked for a sub.  I'm sure she will regret such request...especially if Maxine is reading the blog.

Valentine's Day was exceptional but for the fact it landed on a Saturday.  Well...that for me was bitter sweet.  My husband and I spent a "married 10-years-romantic" night at home.  I cooked of course but received a sparkling gift.  Not so bad.  For the past five years, I have scheduled my "yearly" cervical invasion on Valentine's Day but this year had to schedule on the 16th.  I know that sounds...well, disturbing, but I consider it my gift to Dr. Cullan.  I figure if I've gotta suffer, then there's no reason not to make it hurt for him too.

I love the posters in the exam room showing the stages of pregnancy.  I'm 44, and as I stand "nude" changing into the extra-petite gown, and lookin' down at my physique, poochin' out my stomach; wondering what trimester I would be in if I weren't post-menopausal, I then thank God.  Why is it this stage of life has the word "pause" in it, and it doesn't mean everything is put on hold?  When can I say; so I can't get pregnant anymore, no longer have to stock-up on feminine accoutrements that I've been having to carry in a beach bag, and putting an end to those raging emotions I've been in denial about for, oh,... 30 years?  I'm just kiddin'.  Sweet, Dr. Cullan, with his sausage fingers said I would not have the pleasure of menopause for 8 years or so.  He always knows the right
things to say.   He always shakes my hand and says, Marsha, do you feel bloated?  I say, do you need new glasses, Doc?  He says, are you irritable?  I say, I'm here on Valentine's Day, aren't I?  Doc says, how are your periods?  I say, I can't wait for my next one.  He then talks about how busy he's getting and having to move some patients around and there's a new great Gyno in the building.  I say, see you next year, Doc.  Happy Valentines.  Tell, your wife hello.  Oh, and my daughter is selling Girl Scout cookies, as I whip out an order form. 

On a lighter note, I've seen many comments from Melissa's friends that have chittlins.  All children are wonderful but let's not fool ourselves into submission.  I have five.  Not all from my loins, but all of them now mine.  Greg and I married 10 years ago.  And when we did, my daughter, Mallory, was five.  Mallory started kindergarten at a Catholic school.  The pressure of a sinner like myself having wonderful kids in Catholic school is still insurmountable... but I'm fakin' it just fine.  When Mallory was in second grade and picking her up from school of an afternoon, I caught her in the hall.  Pretty as a plumb in her little plaid jumper, with the appropriate ankle-covering socks, I threw my arm around her small shoulders.  Sister Mary Catherine appeared out of nowhere.  Proudly, I stopped and asked Sister Catherine about an upcoming project that was due.  As Sister and I discussed it, Mallory was slung against my hip.  My Angel butt-in saying; "Mom, do we have a Bible at home?"  I said, "Mallory, you know we have a Bible at home," as I tucked her behind me, pinching Mal's arm and thanking Sister for her service to God, I hustled Mallory out to the car...nagging all the way.

Mallory is a Freshwoman now and picking on more than one Nun a day.  We should all pray for God to be with the Nuns that instruct the Potter kids.