Disoriented

My husband and I still feel disoriented by all the disappointments of the weekend. We've talked about it, cried about it, raged about it, agreed that we can do nothing about it. We cannot wave a magic wand and suddenly our older son's bar exam score is higher and good enough. We cannot chant some magic incantation and suddenly our younger son's marriage is healed. All we can do is wait. They also serve who only stand and wait. Yeah, right. Tell that to distressed parents.

Neither of us seems capable of getting "real work" done. We've both piddled, watched tv, read, tried to keep busy with various activities. But it feels like the house should be quiet, solemn, silent, like someone has died. My stomach hurts nonstop, and the default setting for my brain is worry mode.

Damn it. Just about the time it seems like everything is going smoothly, all hell breaks loose. I know. It could be worse. We could be dealing with major illness or injury. I'm glad that both of my sons are healthy physically. Except I keep feeling like I'd enjoy turning them both over my knee and spanking them. It's not fair for me to be angry at them, but I am. I am just so frustrated! Who gets these perfect kids who grow up and do nothing but succeed beyond everyone's wildest dreams and never give their parents one moment's worry? I know. There really are no such children, no such lucky parents. People just say all these positive things about how perfect their kids are. Right? [On tv right now, Jimmy Kimmel is interviewing Michael Phelps. Somebody please tell me that Michael screwed up somewhere along the line, that he wasn't totally perfect all the way up to winning all those gold medals.]

I honestly am dreading the week. My department chair is sitting in my 9:30 a.m. class on Thursday as part of her evaluation of my work. What a week to have this scheduled!