Wig Shopping!

Hey Hey Hey!

That should sound exactly like Dwayne from What’s Happening!!  The only show deserving of two exclamation points in its title.

How are you? That’s awesome! Or, that sucks! Depending on your answer.

Me? Glad you asked. It’s been quite a month around here.

Let’s see…with school coming to an end I’m trying to soak up every last-minute of free time before my boys are home full-time, expecting to be constantly fed and entertained. I know this means that they will still start their he started it he pushed me he’s an idiot crap no later than 7:30 on any given morning, and that it will continue all day with grace periods just long enough to prevent me from trying to sell them on eBay. But it’s OK. I can no longer keep up with anything relating to school. After April, it’s all downhill. I’m burnt out. I forget to sign their nightly reading chart, I no longer have the necessary endurance to make my left-handed 8-year-old re-write his vocabulary sentences 27 times because it’s illegible. The nightly race of homework, dinner, practices and games, baths and wrestling them into bed. I’d give anything if they could pack their own lunches…ugh. It’s like the end of a marathon, where sometimes the runners actually shit their pants rather than stop. I’ve totally shit my pants, and I can’t wait to cross the finish line.

In addition to all of that usual rigmarole, I very recently had an irregular PAP smear. TMI? Sorry, it’s my blog, you knew what you signed up for. Anyway, it was the kind where the secretary calls to inform you that it showed potential for pre-cancerous cells and we’ll need you to come back in for a biopsy. Biopsy! Hooray! What a wonderfully cheerful word! So I did that on Friday, and now I have to wait until next week to get the results. Don’t project too much, people say. Excuse me? Did you say don’t project too much? It’s what I’m best at. It all works out, doesn’t it? Sure, unless you have cancer and die leaving your young sons motherless. I’ve already written and rewritten both scenarios in my head. Of course I’ve figured out my treatment plan, chemo and radiation, but if it becomes too much, I’ll just go straight to home hospice, in which case I’ll get great drugs.

But that’s what the mind does, at least mine. I have no control over it, my mind has a mind of its own. I’m hopeful that it will turn out to be nothing, but so was Deborah Winger in Terms of Endearment. I know, I’m an idiot, women have irregular PAP smears all the time, it’s just part of having lady parts. And why the fuck does it have to be called a PAP smear? That’s gross, it sounds like something a fat old man puts on a sandwich.

Besides that, everything really is great. My divorce was final on Wednesday, the day after my sons 8th birthday. New beginnings, right? Its been over for almost 2 years now, we’ve both moved on and have established a friendly relationship, and co-parent with the best interest of our boys always being paramount. But like anything in life, the finality of a chapter is not without reflection and emotion.

When one door closes, another one opens. Say a little prayer to the God of your understanding/misunderstanding or just cross your fingers for me, will you? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to online wig shopping.

wig-shop260

xo

25 replies

  1. I wanted to comment, but I didn’t want my comment to be an empty condolence, as I don’t know you and all. So I would like to say that you are a brilliant blogger. Also that that multicolored afro wig is incredibly sexy.

  2. A couple of things: 1. My sympathies on the imminent end of the school year. 2. Kids in elementary school shouldn’t have homework. I was always known as the “no homework” teacher. The shit I got from some parents was unbelievable. I was like, seriously? Get a workbook from the grocery store if you’re so desperate. 3. I would say don’t worry about the pap smear but that’s like saying, don’t look at the fat guy eating a huge ice cream…you can’t help it. Soooo, I will send good vibes your way for Friday’s results. Until then, live like you’re dying! (sorry…too soon?)

  3. Just heard on the news the other day that Pap smears have a very high rate of false positives. You’re fine. My gyno’s assistant called me after mine and no joke said on my voicemail “please call back as soon as possible; we have something sensitive to discuss, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving it on your voicemail.” It took me two hours to get back in touch while I was hyperventilating and when I finally did, she said “oh. You left your insurance card here.” I said “thanks why couldn’t you say that on my voicemail?” And she said it was “because of the personal nature.” WTF?!

    • Thanks homeslice. I’ve had this before, about 5 years ago, and had to have a conization (part of my cervix removed) so I’m really hoping this is nothing.

  4. Scruffy,

    I just got back to South Florida after the ride to Hatteras. It was a pretty cool trip…. Don’t get weirded out, but I kept thinking about you – high kicks and everything. I thought of dropping by to say hello……it’s like something was saying “see scruffy before she is a giant cue ball.”

    Nice knowin ya (almost),
    Scruffy

    • Scruffy,
      I love that my readers know me well enough to leave comments like these. They make me smile. Maybe I’ll come visit you, I’ll contact The Make A Wish Foundation and see if they can make it happen.
      Scruffy

  5. Scruf,

    Stop shitting your pants much? The last thing a RN needs is a visit from……

    Hold it, I’ll be a regular human being now and say (I can’t think of anything).

    You know though right?

    Scruffy

  6. I can only echo suburbanprincessteacher’s comment; it is great. From one of my all-time favorite movies:
    “The strangeness of this life cannot be measured. In trying to produce my death, I was elevated to the status of hero.” Fuck it! Like she said, “Until then, live like your dying!”

  7. I can’t choose between the rainbow ‘fro or the orange smoothie.

    I’ve been down this biopsy road, so I totally get the running all scenarios in your head thing. My daughter was 8 when I went through it.

    Sending good vibes your way.

  8. The test results will probably be negative, so try not to get too worked up about it. Distract yourself by imagining what you can do with the money if you do end up selling the kids on Ebay.

  9. Tracy,
    Waiting for test results sucks. Hope all is okay and it’s just the usual lady parts thingy. I don’t know how you women deal with vaginas. I mean, I know why you deal with them, because they’re fucking awesome. But just the regular maintenance and upkeep seems tiring. I hope this talk helped. Also, I think you could totally rock a bald head.

  10. I had a cake when my divorce was final that said “Fuck that Shit!” I suppose that would have made for weird birthday pictures for your 8 year old. My last irregular pap-smear I had the opportunity to go for my biopsy to a teaching hospital…. Umm. It was extra ouchy but I got to watch it on a big screen. So, that was a plus. FIngers crossed and knees wiiiide open for good news.

  11. Tracy, I missed this post – oi – I would be wishing you the best, but I just read a letter from your vagina and I like what I saw, I mean read. Free and clear! I’m glad you don’t have to wear a clown-wig…I don’t know if I can handle two clowns in my blog-life. I need therapy for just the one.

    On to shitting one’s self. I don’t understand any sport that would end in shitting one’s self – why would anyone do that or want that? Unless it was a fetish – but then it wouldn’t be in marathon form …or maybe it would… let me think on that and get back to you. Meanwhile – please explain marathon running to me b/c I cannot comprehend anything that makes me run an ungodly long time and then shit. On. Myself. In. Front. Of. Other. People. Running. Down. My. Legs. Why don’t they wear adult diapers?

  12. I’m glad I read this after the storm has passed.
    My wife is facing her own crisis and i hope her results are equally positive.
    You rock, Tracy Fulks.

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