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It Rolls Downhill

December 1, 2010

I found out via facebook that a friend’s mom has been diagnosed with Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. I knew what this was immediately — reading the medical press will do that to a girl — but if you don’t know, it’s spongiform encephalopathy, also known as mad cow disease, only when it strikes people it’s not called mad cow disease, it’s called Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, or, if you are member of the Fore tribe of New Guinea, it’s called Kuru. No matter what it’s called, it’s a bad one.

Of course, this brings up a plethora of my own bad feelings. I’ve been in a crappy mood all day. I overslept on purpose, and then I was so unreasonably bitchy over coffee with some friends this morning that one of them put me in the time out chair for a couple of minutes. Then I freaked out over a small errand that had a big context. I started crying inexplicably in the car. I hate that. It doesn’t happen very often.

The day got a little better when I decided to come home and do the following job off of my to-do list: spread 160 lbs of composted manure all over my front yard. The plan is that it will slowly work its way down into the sandy rock (or is it rocky sand?) pretending to be dirt under most of the new grass I’ve planted in front of my house, help fertilize the roots of my new lawn, and help hold in moisture.

When you are in a bad mood, nothing beats spreading a little manure around. I was over halfway through when I identified what was bugging me: just a general mad at the world over the unfairness of my friend’s mom getting such a rotten break. I’m sensitive to stuff like that.

Figuring out what was gnawing at my craw was a good thing. I’m on the alert not to let myself snap at my kids over doing normal kid stuff.

My kids are great, and I know my time with them is limited. That’s a kind of rotten knowledge to have learned the hard way, but I hope if I work through it I can turn it into some sort of motherhood-fertilizer rather than just a pile of crap.

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