It's me Crash, coming to you live from St. George. I've been very very busy here practicing my acceptance and/or concession speeches for the big announcement today.
My acceptance speech was going to be concise and to the point--something along the lines of:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! I'm rich and famous!
My concession speech is going to come from a more humble, tearful place:
I didn't win. It's not my turn to be rich and famous. And perpetually blissful. Maybe I can get rich and famous by being Grumpty Dumpty instead. Or maybe I'll try out for America's Next Top Model. Or Survivor. Or The Amazing Race. Or The Apprentice. Or The Mole. Or Dancing with the Almost Stars.
Am I disappointed? Yes! Do I feel like I have a big scarlet letter L on my forehead? Yes! Yes! Yes! But I take comfort in the fact that there are more losers out there then winners in this world, so at least I'm in good company. Which makes me more endearing to all the rest of you losers, right?
(Maybe I should have cheated!)
But anyway, I've still got my health. My perfect health. And my dog. My perfect dog.
Oh, and my kids. I've still got my kids.
And my traffic ticket. I've still got my traffic ticket.
I go to court on January 5th and I'll probably need to change my strategy from "DON'T MESS WITH ME! I'm RICH AND FAMOUS!" to "PLEASE, please, pretty please, don't make me pay that traffic ticket! And btw, do you have a payment plan?"
But fer reals, it's not all gloom and doom over here. Good things are happening too. I saw Thurl Bailey at Costco. When I bragged to my twins about it they said, "So! We see him all that time at basketball practice!"
"He touched me!" said my oldest twin.
"He zipped up my jacket for me," said the other.
"Oh."That's all I could muster. Just "Oh!"
Another good thing is that I'm learning new things. They say you're never too old to learn and it's true. During the drive to St. George my twins taught me that there are various uses for knitting needles. Not only can they make scarves and hats, they can also be used as light sabers, as well as pimple poppers.
My hub taught me that the rumor there are no dumb questions is a myth. There is one dumb question and my hub revealed it to me when he called me from his parents car and said.
"So, do you know how to use the windshield wipers?"
"Ummmmm." That's all I could muster. Just, "Ummmmm."
So anyways, it's all good. Over here. In my world. Yes, my eyeballs got sweaty. But I was just using SAM-e anyway. To get rich and famous. And to further my agenda to heal the world.
As my friend Dolly always says, "If not this, SOMETHING BETTER!"
There must be something better around the corner.
Which reminds me of a lesson I learned when my twins were born. It's was an extremely stressful, dangerous and emotionally draining birth. I'd been in the hospital for two weeks imitating a human incubator after my water broke at 27 weeks. The docs told me that every day I kept those babies in the womb was priceless to their future well being. They weren't fully developed and the risk of physical and mental disability was HUGE.
But NO PRESSURE!
My full time job was trying to grow some healthy babies so when one of them (my hemophiliac) slipped into the birth canal I kinda panicked. His head was too fragile to withstand the pressure and he was at risk to sustain some serious internal bleeding in his brain. The thought of it kinda freaked me out a little tiny bit.
So my hub put his hands on my belly and said a prayer, asking for divine intervention to prolong the pregnancy until our babies were out of danger.
I was instantly completely calm, cool and collected. I thought I knew why.
"It's okay," I told my hub. "They are not going to be born tonight."
Within 10 minutes they were prepping me for an emergency C-section and my twins made their grand entrance into this world. They spent 6 weeks in NICU and came home hooked to monitors and weighing less than 4 lbs each. They were sick every other week for 2 years and kept us up all night long on several occasions. They had breathing issues and more than once we rushed them to the hospital. On one occasion the hospital rushed to us. (Remember that Martha?)
But you know what? They are just fine. Completely fine. Perfectly healthy normal boys, with slim to none physical or mental issues from their early entrance.
We were so darn lucky. Or blessed. (Tomato/Tomahto.)
My point is, I misunderstood my complete calm as an answer to MY wishes--that the babies would be born according to my desired time frame for their own good--when actually it was just a comforting confirmation that everything was going according to plan. And I was entitled to a little extra help from the universe to get me through it.
Sometimes our prayers are answered, not as the answer we want, but as the extra help to deal with the answer we need.
You get me?
I felt that same complete calm throughout the whole second phase of the Good Mood Blogger race. I couldn't get myself to feel stressed about it if I tried. I told my hub, it either means I'm going to win. Or I'm going to lose.
And If I lose . . .
Well, let me just quote Katy Perry's Firwork song:
Maybe the reason why all the doors are closed
So you can open one that leads you to the perfect road
There's a perfect road for me. And for you, for that matter. I thought the SAM-e gig was my road, when actually it was just my door.
LY, peeps, for escorting me to my door!
Hugs and air kisses to all of you for your incredible support and encouragement during this whole ordeal. I'll not soon forget it.