Who made this mess?

For the past few years, I've been attending weekly meetings of a group for recovering control freaks, fixers and people pleasers. It's been a slow but steady path and from time to time I can look at a situation and see how much I've changed (and sometimes how far I still have to go).

Earlier this week, I made plans to go straight from work to the meeting. I arranged a ride home from school for Charlie and told Mike he would have to pick Robbie up from school. Annie had rehearsal and would be driving herself home. That's it. Easy peasy. Until...

We had a Thanksgiving pitch-in at lunch. Seriously some of the best southern cooking I've ever had (My contribution? Apples & caramel dip.) and there was plenty leftover, including home made mac and cheese. I knew the boys would love to be on the receiving end of those leftovers...and, if I'm really honest with myself, I didn't want Mike to order pizza for dinner because we are on a tight budget until payday.

So I told Mike that I would meet him at Robbie's school to hand off dinner. Then I would go on to my meeting. Only, when I got to the school, Mike wasn't there. He was still a good 15 minutes away. I went in, picked up Robbie and called Mike.

"I've got Rob. I'll just meet you at St. Luke's on 86th Street and then I'll go on to the meeting." He agreed.

Robbie and I arrived at the St. Luke's parking lot at 5:48pm. I had 12 minutes to get to the meeting on time, which was kind of important because I was supposed to lead the discussion.

5:50pm. No Mike.

5:51pm. My phone died so I could no longer track where my husband was using the "Find my iPhone" app.

I could feel my blood pressure rising and my jaw setting itself in "angry" mode. I took a deep breath and thought to myself "I cannot change this situation. There is no point in getting upset." I was pretty proud of myself for that.

Mike arrived somewhere around 5:56pm, although I don't know exactly what time it was because I'd given up staring down the clock. He took Robbie and the dinner and I sat in the parking lot trying to decide if it was worth showing up late to the meeting.

As I considered the option of arriving late, not totally happy with Mike for making me late, I heard a friend's voice in my head (not really, Mom), asking what was my part in this situation.

So I asked myself that. "What was my part in this debacle of a plan?"

It didn't take long to recognize that it was really all my part. There had been a plan in place that would have taken me directly from work to the meeting without having to stop for anything. Who changed that plan? Me.

Mike is completely capable of picking up Robbie and making dinner for himself and the boys. We could have eaten the yummy leftovers for dinner the next day. But I was both trying to be nice (hello, people pleasing fixer) and to control the situation (control freak!) by devising the leftover drop off/kid exchange plan. Mike teases that I am addicted to chaos. Looking at this situation, he might not be wrong.

I smiled to myself, even laughed a little, as I came to the realization that this mess was all my fault. So, I may not have come far enough to not create the situation in the first place, but I have grown enough to recognize how my actions led to the outcome. That gives me hope.

(And yes, I still went to the meeting and it was worth it.)

Somebody stop me!

We do NOT need a dog. I do NOT want a dog.

Then why do I keep thinking about dogs?! Is this what a midlife crisis feels like? Could almost-39 be my midlife? (Don't answer that.)

I took Charlie to the Humane Society today to meet Chyna. Sweet greyhound mix Chyna. Seven-year-old, who's gonna adopt her Chyna? She was very sweet. Built like a greyhound, though smaller and not quite as skinny.

We took her out into the fenced area. She was quite happy to leave her kennel. But once we got into the play area outside, she didn't want to have much to do with us. Charlie was disappointed that she didn't want to play ball. Instead, she tried to hide between my legs. She didn't even want a treat. Sadly (and thankfully), Chyna is not meant to be in our house. If I lived alone, Chyna would be perfect. But I live with three kids (4 if you count Mike) who want a dog that will play with them.

We went back inside where Charlie was immediately taken by Ellie, who I was not enamored by at all. Ellie looks like she would chew your face off. As soon as we walked up to the kennel she was jumping up. I could just see myself spending the next 10 years trying to wrestle the dog into submission every time the doorbell rings. Besides, Ellie's info said "I'm sweet, but I need to work on my manners." Yeah, sorry Ellie. Better luck next time.

There was another dog who caught my eye, Beto. He looked a little like Benji and was an older dog as well. But lucky for me, Beto was just fixed yesterday, so I couldn't do anything more than coo to him through the kennel fence.

So we left, blessedly dog-less, and I felt pretty good about my level of personal restraint. Until I got home and found a Facebook message from my friend Kris whovolunteers for the Humane Society and who started this whole dog talk by posting a link on her own Facebook page.

"Check out this dog in the small dog room on he HSI website. VERY cool dog, and sturdy enough for your family, I think......I had him outside and he seemed like a perfect family dog. His name is Ricky."

Ricky is an Icelandic Sheepdog mix and is two years old:

As I said earlier, somebody stop me!

To show that I'm not anti-dog, just trying to maintain sanity (or the semblance of sanity) at home, I'll encourage you dog-minded folks to help Kris in her quest to get her Brutus crowned 2010 Mutt Strutt Poster Pooch. Vote for as little as $1.

Who could say no to this face:

To read more Kris's affectionate canine, and to cast your vote for Brutus, click here.

Chaos?

Wow! What a crazy day I've had. I'm surprised I'm still awake to even write this. But amazingly, I am. The day went a bit like this:

7:30-11:00am Work from home, shower, get the kids ready for swim practice.

11:10am -- Take kids to swim practice and wait for Mike to arrive.

11:45am -- Take Annie with me to lunch (Chipotle), to the Humane Society to check out a dog (They were closed, probably a sign we do not need a dog.) and to my office.

12:45pm -- 3:15pm Work at the office.

3:30pm -- Drop Annie off at the swim meet, head to the emergency room

3:45pm - 4:50pm -- Hang out in the ER, get the all clear and head to the swim meet

5:00pm -10:00pm -- Get to the meet in time to watch Robbie's first race, watch several other races, then get drafted to be a ribbon writer. Write 100+ ribbons. Stay late for last home meet pizza party.

10:15pm -- Arrive home, put everyone to bed and watch the news about Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.

What? You need some clarification about some of that? Well, the dog. We absolutely do NOT need a dog. But I saw this greyhound mix on the Humane Society website (I blame my friend Kris who posted the link on her Facebook page!) and I can't stop thinking about her. Her name is Chyna and she's 7 years old. Isn't she cute:

As I said, we do not need a dog. Of course that's what I said about a cat, too. Mike says that I am addicted to chaos. Hmmm...I'll have to think about that.

The ER trip was a $100 charge for peace of mind. I woke up this morning with a deep pain in my upper calf. Not excruciating, but noticeable. It didn't go away and seemed to be getting a little worse as the day went on. I tried rubbing it, stretching it. Nothing seemed to help.

Most ordinary people would just shrug it off. However, I am not only addicted to chaos, but six years ago I had a pulmonary embolism (blood clot in my lung). About 1/2 the people who have PEs don't live to blog about them. So, around 2:30pm, I called my doctor just to let them know and see if they had any suggestions about what to do. They told me they couldn't fit me in, but they considered the situation urgent and suggested I go to the urgent care or ER to have it checked.

So then I called my friend Beth to ask her opinion (she's a dietitian -- but that's medical enough in my book). Then I called my mom to ask her opinion. Beth called her sister-in-law who works as a physician assistant at a doc's office with a walk-in clinic. The SIL said go to the ER, that an urent care wouldn't be able to diagnose it.

Having gotten the same answer about 4 times, I reluctantly drove myself to the ER. They got me in right away (thankfully they weren't busy) and within 30 minutes or so had an ultrasound tech doing a scan of my leg. I think I apologized to the doc, the nurse and the u/s tech for coming to the ER for this, but they all assured me that with my history, I did the right thing. Whatever. Fortunately, no blood clot. A couple of random enlarged lymph nodes, but nothing to worry about. And soon I was off to the swim meet!

My leg still hurts, but at least I know it won't kill me in my sleep.

So after all that craziness (chaos?! Maybe Mike is right?), I'm hoping for a nice quiet day tomorrow.