My weekend was awesome. (Well, minus the Patriots' loss, although I had fun watching the game with friends and eating Thai takout.)
While lots of fun things happened over the weekend, Saturday was the crown jewel in the weekend's events. A few of my amazing friends (none of whom blog, alas) had told me to arrange for babysitting for the twins (at their expense, but my choice of who) from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. They had planned a belated birthday celebration. That's all I knew.
I dropped the twins off at their daycare with their beloved R, was picked up by my friend S1, and we rended-voused with S2 and E at E's house. I was presented with one of these to wear, and then we were off to Pyara Spa and Salon for massages. MMM. I had done something painful to my lower back on Friday, so a massage could not have come at a better time. I love Aveda products, so between the back work and the glorious scents, I was in heaven.
There was plenty of time left until 4:00 p.m., and knowing my friends as I do, I figured lunch must be part of the plan. But where? They managed to totally surprise me by taking me to the Langham Hotel downtown for the Deluxe Chocolate Bar. Chocolate soup (aka hot chocolate), crepes, ice cream, donuts, mousse, cake, bread pudding, cotton candy, cookies, tarts, truffles, sauces, you name it, all chocolate, all the time. It was so good. So good. We lingered there for two hours, and must have taken five trips through the buffet. I thought I would feel disgusting after eating nothing but chocolate for lunch, but I'm happy to report that I felt just fine. Great, in fact. I've actually been having recurring lusty fantasies involving large amounts of the chocolate bread pudding. Wow. That stuff was just . . . wow.
It was a great, great day.
I have a lot of good friends, both IRL and in the computer. I feel a little bad sometimes because I used to be the person who did things for people. I'm having a hard time being the person for whom things are done.
People have been bending over backwards doing things for me since we found out that John was sick, which was three and a half years ago now. There's a part of me that feels guilty about all the taking that I do, and that part of me shares space with the part that wishes I did more for people. I know that people aren't expecting me to give, give, give all the time, but the way I see it, I have two choices: (1) make peace with the fact that this is my time to take, and my time to give will return someday, or (2) find a way to give more.
At its heart, this is just another example of how expectations mess with your mind. I expected that after 3.5 years of taking, I'd have things more under control and be ready to do more giving. Or if not more giving, at least less taking! But I'm not there yet, and because that's not what I expected, I don't have a lot of peace around this.
Expectations are a bitch.