I've been a bit out of the loop here at The Argonne Chronicles. First there was Mardi Gras, which is not an occasion for everything to stop anywhere else, but here in New Orleans it certainly is!
Then there was travel and sickness which sort of went hand-in-hand. I managed to get away for business while becoming sick and using every ounce of my reserves to keep from falling apart while I was there. But as soon as I got home, I had to succumb to the creeping crud.
With tongue slightly in cheek, I have to admit to spending some of this week mourning the loss of my first crush. Yes, I was deeply in love with Davy Jones some 40 years ago and I have felt a touch of sadness at his sudden passing.
And finally, it was my birthday! But it was also RockStar's birthday. Yes, indeed, we do share the same birthday. (Same day, different years.) It's fun and it's cool to have the same birthday, but it's also a bit not-so-cool, too.
You see, I don't have my own day.
I wanted to start the day with a little bit of extra sleep while RockStar got the boy up. It was my birthday after all. But it was his, too.
Who do you think ended up getting up at 5:30am?
I read Pamela Hutchins' blog post over at A Mom's View of ADHD recently, and couldn't help thinking about it as I grumbled my way through the morning. In it, she talks about her teenage son and his first romance. While her son's girlfriend seems to be very accepting of his quirks as a somewhat forgetful, largely self-focused teenage boy, Hutchins wonders about his romantic future. She relates to her own marriage with her son's father, which ended in divorce.
Since Dylan's diagnosis it's been painfully obvious to me that RockStar suffers from the same disorder. But I had never thought about the romantic implications until I read Hutchins post. It's hard to be in love with someone who has a hard time looking past their own sphere of interest. Who hyperfocuses on their own interests, sometimes to the exclusion of others (as well as to the exclusion of the more mundane but necessary aspects of life, like financially sustaining work).
Yes, RockStar was as deserving of sleeping in on Friday morning as I was. But a girl can't help hoping that chivalry is not dead! In my 8-year old dreams, I'm sure Davy Jones would have let me sleep in on my birthday (and, of course, he would have sung me awake, too!).
My not-so-humble grumbling was noticed and RockStar is currently spending the afternoon with Dylan so I can have some much-deserved "me time." But I don't think this is the last time I'll be fighting against a situation like this. Just like our efforts with Dylan seem to cycle around and around, so, too, do my adventures with an undiagnosed victim of ADHD.