The Larvae Are Meditating

My plot to addict everyone to Hamilton has been a success.  There girls resisted me at first, as they are wont to do.  Happily, Lin-Manuel overcame them with his genius, first Emily with the opening song, then Sasha with the Schulyer Sisters.  My mom likes good music and didn't take any convincing at all, obviously.  She just needed an introduction.  Steven clearly doesn't count as a person so his opinion is irrelevant.

Steven is learning the ways of the force, ever...so...sloooooooooowly.  At least it's progress I guess.  We are processing zucchinis and pears lately.  We got a jump on pear season so we're not having to tackle 12 boxes at once like last year.  Being able to process just a couple boxes at a time means I'm able to use the freeze dryer for more pear sauce and sorbet which Sasha is thrilled about.  It's always good to have more food.

School.  I thought school would be at least a little easier this year since the girls are doing a little better, but so far less panic doesn't translate to easier schoolwork.  There was one history lesson Emily didn't fight me too much on, but that is the only improvement I've noticed so far.  Less panic over managing migraine is helpful overall, and help with food is certainly helpful, but I don't know what it's going to take beside real, huge, amazing migraine improvement to translate to real, actual, school improvement.  Exhaustion still reigns in our lives.  Gah.

Speaking of exhaustion, RANT WARNING: There are those who say, "Just ask me and I'll come over and help you" but then when we do ask, we have to literally be worked around their golf schedules.  I call bullshit.  We're over here fighting for our lives, being as proactive as possible, homeschooling, making our SCRATCH from scratch, meditating, going to therapy, icing, massaging, driving to the neurologist, the GP, the chiropractor, the eye doctor, keeping meticulous records, keeping our blood work in order, manufuckingfacturing pills...and competing for a golf schedule is just a mockery I don't need or want.  I think golf can be worked around us, or we just don't need to put in the effort for that kind of "help".

Effort is kind of the whole problem here.  Friends, if you know someone who is chronically ill who needs help, you have to volunteer specifics.  "Can I come over on Tuesday and fold your laundry?" is a great way to start a sentence.  "Are there things falling apart in your house I can come fix on Saturday?" is another great thing to say.  Illness doesn't care about vacations or schedules or "church", all it wants is to suck the life out of your bones at 3 in the morning.  Loudly and painfully and repeatedly.  END RANT.

Night shift approaches.  The larvae are meditating and it's past their bedtime.  I hope to God we all get sleep tonight.  I hope to God that Sasha doesn't lose pears.  The very thought makes me physically ill.  On the bright side, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is going very well.  Peace out.