Listening to anything from the Nine Inch Nails Pretty Hate Machine album is really dangerous for me while driving.
We drove to Alamosa today to meet my mom to pick up the kids and bring them home. My husband drove there (happily bopping along in his new car of which I am totally jealous as it has a plug in for my iPod Touch) and I drove home. We put the music on shuffle, the kids went to sleep and I just drove. And when NIN came on, I drove entirely too fast. I got flashed by a county sheriff outside of Alamosa actually. So then I slowed down. A little.
But while we were driving there, I got totally absorbed in the clouds and landscape. Southwestern Colorado can be a bit on the drab side. Which is why I have mostly ignored it on the many, many car trips we’ve taken through there on the way to my parents house in New Mexico. But today I just really looked and it’s actually really beautiful. Granted, it’s spring, so everything is super green and starting to bloom. But the rocks and mountains and plains desert is just really gorgeous. Also the sky was amazing today with layers upon layers of fluffy white clouds.
I almost always drive everywhere we go (chalk it up to a major control issue what with my mom losing half her leg as a passenger in her own car), so I hardly ever get to just watch the scenery go by. And it was a lovely opportunity to do that today. It almost felt like a luxury. To just disengage and let my eyes slide over the landscape taking in the colors and textures. Or take voyeuristic peeks inside of the farm and ranch houses as we passed through small towns. Instead of planning how to accomplish my ridiculously long and complicated to-do list. Or obsessing about our finances. Or thinking about my overall lack of patience when it comes to things like waiting for the job people to call me back.
All in all, it was a perfect way to end an extraordinarily busy week. Good music. Beauty. Driving. Perfect.
5/31/09
5/30/09
Deflation
I don’t know what to write about today. I’m drawing a complete blank.
We bought my husband a new car. Well, new to us. His old car was pretty high in miles and just about to be in need of close to $2000 in work. So we decided to look for a newer one with fewer miles instead of putting a bunch of money into a car that would most likely drink it up and then ask for more before too long. And we found him a great replacement. With the help of a great salesman. Although it was incredibly time consuming, it was a great car shopping and purchasing experience.
Until we went in today to follow up with a couple of things (like the fact that we discovered that we couldn’t get the driver side door to lock) and learned that they were having a hard time getting us financing. Apparently even if you have a high credit score (which we do) banks are turning down requests for credit left and right for just about anything they can find. In our case they say our revolving debt is too high. Which I actually agree with. It is too high. But it’s nowhere near as high as it was 6 months ago. We’re making progress. And because of that progress, because of how hard I’ve been working to get our debt down, it just pisses me off that it’s not enough. It pisses me off that this otherwise exciting and fun experience just got the joy sucked out of it so fast it took my breath away.
It will work out, either way, it will work out some way or another. It always does.
But on my last day sans kids, it’s put me in a bit of a sour mood. Disappointed, defeated and frustrated. It just drives home for me why I need this job. Takes the shine off of it and reminds me that not only will this opportunity be fun and exciting, but will also help us tremendously financially.
So my fingers are staying crossed tighter than ever and hopefully when I wake up, I’ll have pulled out of the pout.
We bought my husband a new car. Well, new to us. His old car was pretty high in miles and just about to be in need of close to $2000 in work. So we decided to look for a newer one with fewer miles instead of putting a bunch of money into a car that would most likely drink it up and then ask for more before too long. And we found him a great replacement. With the help of a great salesman. Although it was incredibly time consuming, it was a great car shopping and purchasing experience.
Until we went in today to follow up with a couple of things (like the fact that we discovered that we couldn’t get the driver side door to lock) and learned that they were having a hard time getting us financing. Apparently even if you have a high credit score (which we do) banks are turning down requests for credit left and right for just about anything they can find. In our case they say our revolving debt is too high. Which I actually agree with. It is too high. But it’s nowhere near as high as it was 6 months ago. We’re making progress. And because of that progress, because of how hard I’ve been working to get our debt down, it just pisses me off that it’s not enough. It pisses me off that this otherwise exciting and fun experience just got the joy sucked out of it so fast it took my breath away.
It will work out, either way, it will work out some way or another. It always does.
But on my last day sans kids, it’s put me in a bit of a sour mood. Disappointed, defeated and frustrated. It just drives home for me why I need this job. Takes the shine off of it and reminds me that not only will this opportunity be fun and exciting, but will also help us tremendously financially.
So my fingers are staying crossed tighter than ever and hopefully when I wake up, I’ll have pulled out of the pout.
5/29/09
Lovely Tired
Holy crap am I tired. It’s been a very busy week. And I’ve been kid free, so really, I have nothing to complain about. Except that usually when my parents take the kiddos, it’s a huge break for me and other than hanging out with some friends that I don’t get to see as often as I’d like, I usually just hang out and do nothing. But this week has been really busy!
Between getting ready for my interview, being nervous about my interview, finding clothes for my interview, being nervous about my interview, finding shoes and a new bra for my interview, being nervous about my interview, seeing friends, hanging with my husband, being nervous about my interview and car shopping for my husband, it’s been an extraordinarily busy week. And now, I am really tired. Like the kind of tired when you’re eyes are stinging just because they’re open.
But I went out with some of my most favorite women tonight for dinner. And one of them announced that she was pregnant again and I almost cried I was so happy for her. This will be their third baby and while it’s been a long time coming, it’s been hard for them to make the decision to have another baby as well. Her second pregnancy was really hard and traumatic, so she’s been afraid of having to go through that again. And with good reason. But I just know that this pregnancy will be awesome and healthy and at the end of it they will have a fat, healthy, happy baby to show for it. I’m really just thrilled for them. And jealous. So at least I now have one more person through whom I can live vicariously, because man are my baby hankerings getting out of hand.
And I got to take another friend out for a pedicure this afternoon. She’s pregnant with her fifth and she could (should!) go into labor at any time, so I decided she needed some pampering. And it was lovely to be able to just hang out with her without any kiddos biting at our ankles.
It’s been a lovely week, but man am I tired.
Between getting ready for my interview, being nervous about my interview, finding clothes for my interview, being nervous about my interview, finding shoes and a new bra for my interview, being nervous about my interview, seeing friends, hanging with my husband, being nervous about my interview and car shopping for my husband, it’s been an extraordinarily busy week. And now, I am really tired. Like the kind of tired when you’re eyes are stinging just because they’re open.
But I went out with some of my most favorite women tonight for dinner. And one of them announced that she was pregnant again and I almost cried I was so happy for her. This will be their third baby and while it’s been a long time coming, it’s been hard for them to make the decision to have another baby as well. Her second pregnancy was really hard and traumatic, so she’s been afraid of having to go through that again. And with good reason. But I just know that this pregnancy will be awesome and healthy and at the end of it they will have a fat, healthy, happy baby to show for it. I’m really just thrilled for them. And jealous. So at least I now have one more person through whom I can live vicariously, because man are my baby hankerings getting out of hand.
And I got to take another friend out for a pedicure this afternoon. She’s pregnant with her fifth and she could (should!) go into labor at any time, so I decided she needed some pampering. And it was lovely to be able to just hang out with her without any kiddos biting at our ankles.
It’s been a lovely week, but man am I tired.
5/28/09
Kickin' Ass and Takin' Names
I had the biggest interview of my life thus far today.
I have interviewed with panels of people ranging in numbers from 1 or 2 all the way up to about 15. Huge panels of highly accomplished and immensely educated people. I have fielded questions from people twice my age and thrice my IQ. I have navigated through academic, human services, public health and grassroots vernacular. I have already held the highest post in the nonprofit realm; and before I was 30 years old.
All of that, in the context of today, was nothing. Not because I interviewed with 20 people or because they were all Nobel Laureates.
Today was so huge because this job, this particular position, is such a tremendous opportunity and would be so much fun that I’m not entirely sure something like this will come along more than once. This job would give me the opportunity to build a position from the ground up. To grow a department with an incredibly important (not to mention one that has given The Boy countless hours of joy) piece of city government.
After asking the interview committee what their vision was for this brand spanking new position, I sat and listened to them tell me all about an incredibly amorphous vision that wasn’t really a vision at all, but more like an outline for something they didn’t really know anything about but was incredibly important to them. And the fact that it is so important to them, that they are willing to take a risk and think outside the box in an effort to find new solutions to very, very old problems, really got my blood pumping.
And I gotta say that I kicked some serious ass in the interview. I answered all of their questions. I asked questions that got them thinking. I was upbeat and inventive. I was funny and smart. I kicked some serious ass. I walked out of there feeling great (other than the fact that my feet were killing me after walking the 6+ blocks from my finally found parking spot to the interview in new shoes).
Now it’s up to the fates, but I kicked some serious ass.
I have interviewed with panels of people ranging in numbers from 1 or 2 all the way up to about 15. Huge panels of highly accomplished and immensely educated people. I have fielded questions from people twice my age and thrice my IQ. I have navigated through academic, human services, public health and grassroots vernacular. I have already held the highest post in the nonprofit realm; and before I was 30 years old.
All of that, in the context of today, was nothing. Not because I interviewed with 20 people or because they were all Nobel Laureates.
Today was so huge because this job, this particular position, is such a tremendous opportunity and would be so much fun that I’m not entirely sure something like this will come along more than once. This job would give me the opportunity to build a position from the ground up. To grow a department with an incredibly important (not to mention one that has given The Boy countless hours of joy) piece of city government.
After asking the interview committee what their vision was for this brand spanking new position, I sat and listened to them tell me all about an incredibly amorphous vision that wasn’t really a vision at all, but more like an outline for something they didn’t really know anything about but was incredibly important to them. And the fact that it is so important to them, that they are willing to take a risk and think outside the box in an effort to find new solutions to very, very old problems, really got my blood pumping.
And I gotta say that I kicked some serious ass in the interview. I answered all of their questions. I asked questions that got them thinking. I was upbeat and inventive. I was funny and smart. I kicked some serious ass. I walked out of there feeling great (other than the fact that my feet were killing me after walking the 6+ blocks from my finally found parking spot to the interview in new shoes).
Now it’s up to the fates, but I kicked some serious ass.
5/27/09
Impulse vs. Presence
Here’s a question that popped into my head today – where is the line between being present in every moment and being impulsive?
I’ve spent the last year really focusing on learning how to be present in every moment and then to summon the courage to be authentic in that moment, for better or worse. And I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I am really present in just about every moment, and I’ve been able to raise my awareness enough that even when my head wanders out of the present moment, I can recognize it and reel it back in. I can catch myself when I’m dipping my toes into the past or future when the fear or anger descends with no other provocation other than my brain getting away with itself.
But yesterday and today I’ve been wondering about how and if that presence of mind could easily translate into impulsive acts. Like today when I nonchalantly handed over my credit card for Webkinz for the kids and bras for me. Or several sake bombs and enough sushi to gorge a very, very large cat. Or shoes (I’m still searching for sassy sandals, please let me know if you find any).
To be fair, I almost never spend money on myself. I’ll spend money on the kids or other people in a heartbeat. But hardly ever on myself. The kids are gone and I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to go shopping. And I’m pretty sure I spent entirely too much money on things I didn’t necessarily need (although, also to be fair? I only have the one bra, so it’s not too much of a splurge to have a rotation of three).
So I guess the answer to my question is that if I were to chalk up the impulse shopping to being in the moment and following my whimsy regardless of right or wrong, that’s pretty much bullshit. But knowing that I made the choice to splurge and buy myself something pretty the day before the biggest interview of my life and then to roll with the consequences is the kind of being in the moment I’m proud of.
I’ve spent the last year really focusing on learning how to be present in every moment and then to summon the courage to be authentic in that moment, for better or worse. And I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I am really present in just about every moment, and I’ve been able to raise my awareness enough that even when my head wanders out of the present moment, I can recognize it and reel it back in. I can catch myself when I’m dipping my toes into the past or future when the fear or anger descends with no other provocation other than my brain getting away with itself.
But yesterday and today I’ve been wondering about how and if that presence of mind could easily translate into impulsive acts. Like today when I nonchalantly handed over my credit card for Webkinz for the kids and bras for me. Or several sake bombs and enough sushi to gorge a very, very large cat. Or shoes (I’m still searching for sassy sandals, please let me know if you find any).
To be fair, I almost never spend money on myself. I’ll spend money on the kids or other people in a heartbeat. But hardly ever on myself. The kids are gone and I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to go shopping. And I’m pretty sure I spent entirely too much money on things I didn’t necessarily need (although, also to be fair? I only have the one bra, so it’s not too much of a splurge to have a rotation of three).
So I guess the answer to my question is that if I were to chalk up the impulse shopping to being in the moment and following my whimsy regardless of right or wrong, that’s pretty much bullshit. But knowing that I made the choice to splurge and buy myself something pretty the day before the biggest interview of my life and then to roll with the consequences is the kind of being in the moment I’m proud of.
5/26/09
I am a Writer
I am a writer.
As I believe I’ve mentioned before, I taught myself how to read when I was four. I started writing short stories in kindergarten. I don’t remember illustrating those stories; I’ve never been much of an artist. But I have been a writer. For as long as I can remember. It’s not really something I do per say. It’s just an integral piece of who I am. Who I’ve always been.
When I am sad, ecstatic, frustrated, irate or just about anything else, the first thing I do is write. I constantly have pieces of stories and dialogue running through my head. I am constantly figuring out how to put into words anything I may be experiencing at any given moment. Not being able to stop long enough to transcribe those parts and pieces of stories begging to be written is why I started this blog. But I’m finding, lately especially, that there is less story writing and more journaling happening here.
Which is fine I suppose, although I cannot imagine that it’s all that interesting to read. Not to mention, I’m sure that I’ve given you whiplash the last couple of months. What with the not so very subtle glow swinging to the utmost defeat of motherhood and the bubbling joy of discovery to feeling like I’m having my feet pulled out from under me by sickness or bad days or whatever. I know I’ve been feeling whiplashed, so I can’t even imagine how your head must be swimming.
But even though I am so relatively sure that my posts for the past 4-6 weeks don’t make a lick of sense, I’m still a writer. Even though I think the majority of my posts for most of the time I’ve been engaged in this project have been silly and self indulgent, I’m still a writer. Even though I have the tiniest handful of readers, very few of which are moved to leave comments on my daily blathering, I am still a writer.
Through the up, down, good, bad and in between there will always be a piece of me that knows exactly who and what I am.
I am a writer.
As I believe I’ve mentioned before, I taught myself how to read when I was four. I started writing short stories in kindergarten. I don’t remember illustrating those stories; I’ve never been much of an artist. But I have been a writer. For as long as I can remember. It’s not really something I do per say. It’s just an integral piece of who I am. Who I’ve always been.
When I am sad, ecstatic, frustrated, irate or just about anything else, the first thing I do is write. I constantly have pieces of stories and dialogue running through my head. I am constantly figuring out how to put into words anything I may be experiencing at any given moment. Not being able to stop long enough to transcribe those parts and pieces of stories begging to be written is why I started this blog. But I’m finding, lately especially, that there is less story writing and more journaling happening here.
Which is fine I suppose, although I cannot imagine that it’s all that interesting to read. Not to mention, I’m sure that I’ve given you whiplash the last couple of months. What with the not so very subtle glow swinging to the utmost defeat of motherhood and the bubbling joy of discovery to feeling like I’m having my feet pulled out from under me by sickness or bad days or whatever. I know I’ve been feeling whiplashed, so I can’t even imagine how your head must be swimming.
But even though I am so relatively sure that my posts for the past 4-6 weeks don’t make a lick of sense, I’m still a writer. Even though I think the majority of my posts for most of the time I’ve been engaged in this project have been silly and self indulgent, I’m still a writer. Even though I have the tiniest handful of readers, very few of which are moved to leave comments on my daily blathering, I am still a writer.
Through the up, down, good, bad and in between there will always be a piece of me that knows exactly who and what I am.
I am a writer.
5/25/09
Technological Impatience
My laptop died a couple of days ago. I shut it down before I went to bed and when I turned it on the next morning it was broken beyond repair. It was totally healthy when I shut it down and then with no provocation, it just gave it up and died. So my husband has spent the last two days trying everything he could think of to get it working again without having to totally re-install everything. I managed to get all the most important stuff off and onto a jump drive before it died completely, but he still ended up having to re-install the entire operating system and start from scratch. This laptop is about two years old, so maybe if this were the first time we’ve had to do this I would have been a wee bit more patience with it. But this is the FOURTH time we’ve had to either re-install the operating system or restore the whole fucking thing to factory condition. FOURTH!!! That’s just ridiculous. I mean there are all sorts of conditions that would have given me more tolerance for a hiccup here and there. But this sucker was new when I bought it so one would think that I’d get a bit more mileage out of it. Let’s just say that the Mac vs. PC commercials now have a whole new meaning for me.
I have a hard time summoning patience with technology is most cases anyway. I just (naively I suppose) expect it to work. So when there are glitches in my DVD player, or the TV or my iPod or my computer it just really pisses me off. It. Should. Just. Work. All. The. Time. Period.
And when it doesn’t, my husband just shakes his head and laughs (quietly) at my irritation and tries to fix it as quickly as possible so that he doesn’t have to listen to me bitch endlessly about how stupid some electronic device is or isn’t. So I’m glad for his tolerance of my lack of patience.
But I swear to all that is holy that if my computer fucks up again, I am throwing the sucker through the window.
I have a hard time summoning patience with technology is most cases anyway. I just (naively I suppose) expect it to work. So when there are glitches in my DVD player, or the TV or my iPod or my computer it just really pisses me off. It. Should. Just. Work. All. The. Time. Period.
And when it doesn’t, my husband just shakes his head and laughs (quietly) at my irritation and tries to fix it as quickly as possible so that he doesn’t have to listen to me bitch endlessly about how stupid some electronic device is or isn’t. So I’m glad for his tolerance of my lack of patience.
But I swear to all that is holy that if my computer fucks up again, I am throwing the sucker through the window.
5/24/09
Movie Day
My mom drove away with the kids today. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that they spend a week at the beginning of the summer and then another week at the end of the summer at Nana and Papa’s house. It gives me a break after school ends or right before it begins and it gives them some all-out playtime. My mom does her very best to spoil them rotten and they just really, really love it down there.
So we decided to have a movie day today. So we went to see Terminator: Salvation first and it was pretty incredible. I was a little wary of the director seeing as that his crowning glory was the Charlie’s Angels movies, but I have to admit that it was really pretty good. It was different that I expected it to be. The first three movies were by their nature almost completely John Connor centric. Save his mother, save him etc. And this one really gives more storyline to the machines. Which is interesting and a part of the story that we’ve not yet seen much of.
Then we decided to go have a drink and some munchies and chatted for a bit before going to see Star Trek. I saw it alone the weekend it came out, but have been wanting to see it again. And it was just as brilliant the second time around. Except for the very small baby the people sitting next to us decided to bring along and then get all huffy with when she wouldn’t sit still and be quiet. I mean she was probably 3 or 4 months old max. So that was irritating. Mostly because I just wanted to take her from them and go outside and play with her. Stupid people bringing babies to movies!
Now I have an entire child free week in front of me. And, admittedly, most of it is already planned. But it’s always nice to be able to set my own pace and schedule for the day. And it’s nice to have some peace and quiet. And by the end of the week, I’ll be hankering to smother my babies in kisses again.
So we decided to have a movie day today. So we went to see Terminator: Salvation first and it was pretty incredible. I was a little wary of the director seeing as that his crowning glory was the Charlie’s Angels movies, but I have to admit that it was really pretty good. It was different that I expected it to be. The first three movies were by their nature almost completely John Connor centric. Save his mother, save him etc. And this one really gives more storyline to the machines. Which is interesting and a part of the story that we’ve not yet seen much of.
Then we decided to go have a drink and some munchies and chatted for a bit before going to see Star Trek. I saw it alone the weekend it came out, but have been wanting to see it again. And it was just as brilliant the second time around. Except for the very small baby the people sitting next to us decided to bring along and then get all huffy with when she wouldn’t sit still and be quiet. I mean she was probably 3 or 4 months old max. So that was irritating. Mostly because I just wanted to take her from them and go outside and play with her. Stupid people bringing babies to movies!
Now I have an entire child free week in front of me. And, admittedly, most of it is already planned. But it’s always nice to be able to set my own pace and schedule for the day. And it’s nice to have some peace and quiet. And by the end of the week, I’ll be hankering to smother my babies in kisses again.
5/23/09 - It's a Tinkerbell/Soccer Party!
**In a haze of 3 year-old birthday party adrenaline and the ensuing sugar rush, I forgot to post this last night. Sorry!!**
Today is The Girl’s birthday party. In true reflection of who she is, it’s a Tinkerbell/soccer party. She picked out all Tinkerbell decorations, invitations, thank you notes and cake but desperately wanted to be able to play soccer with all of her friends. Oooooookkkkkkaaaaayyyyy.
So I ordered the Tinkerbell cake. And I found a new little place here that does soccer classes and parties starting at age 2. I was a little nervous since it was new and I didn’t really know what to expect. But I gotta tell you, it was amazing. The kids had an AWESOME time playing all the games and actually learning some fundamental motor skills for learning to eventually play soccer. And the coach? The coach was just about the coolest guy I’ve ever come into contact with as far as someone who chooses to interact with kids on this level. He let them chase him and beat him silly with Styrofoam noodles and he was able to keep them completely engaged and moving for the entire 90 minutes. It was truly amazing. The Girl and all of her friends (and a couple of The Boy’s friends as well) had a blast.
The cake was super yummy and the presents she got were so completely perfect for her. Her Nana R and Papa T got her first American Girl doll and matching dresses for her and her baby. The Girl named her Tasha and immediately put on her matching dress and almost needed to sleep in it. She got an assortment of Tinkerbell toys and a wonderful sticker/coloring book with fairies and Tinkerbell. And she absolutely loved the dress up chest that her Dad and I got her.
She just had a really good birthday. My mom was able to come for the party and it’s always a good thing when Nana comes to town.
Watching her turn 3 and have so much fun just leaves me smiling. It just thrills me to see her so happy and to have the chance to watch her embrace the celebration.
Today is The Girl’s birthday party. In true reflection of who she is, it’s a Tinkerbell/soccer party. She picked out all Tinkerbell decorations, invitations, thank you notes and cake but desperately wanted to be able to play soccer with all of her friends. Oooooookkkkkkaaaaayyyyy.
So I ordered the Tinkerbell cake. And I found a new little place here that does soccer classes and parties starting at age 2. I was a little nervous since it was new and I didn’t really know what to expect. But I gotta tell you, it was amazing. The kids had an AWESOME time playing all the games and actually learning some fundamental motor skills for learning to eventually play soccer. And the coach? The coach was just about the coolest guy I’ve ever come into contact with as far as someone who chooses to interact with kids on this level. He let them chase him and beat him silly with Styrofoam noodles and he was able to keep them completely engaged and moving for the entire 90 minutes. It was truly amazing. The Girl and all of her friends (and a couple of The Boy’s friends as well) had a blast.
The cake was super yummy and the presents she got were so completely perfect for her. Her Nana R and Papa T got her first American Girl doll and matching dresses for her and her baby. The Girl named her Tasha and immediately put on her matching dress and almost needed to sleep in it. She got an assortment of Tinkerbell toys and a wonderful sticker/coloring book with fairies and Tinkerbell. And she absolutely loved the dress up chest that her Dad and I got her.
She just had a really good birthday. My mom was able to come for the party and it’s always a good thing when Nana comes to town.
Watching her turn 3 and have so much fun just leaves me smiling. It just thrills me to see her so happy and to have the chance to watch her embrace the celebration.
5/22/09
Birthday Girl!!
“Please don’t shoot at your sister. It’s her birthday.”
“But I’m shooting birthday stuff at her. And I think she likes it.”
This little exchange took place between me and The Boy this morning as I was making French toast to start off The Girl’s birthday day extravaganza. I thought it was sort of sweet, and really, really funny.
I always make a huge deal out of the kids’ birthdays. We spend the whole day of their birthdays doing all of their most favorite stuff. We got to Toys R US (aka The Big Toy Store) where they get their birthday announced on the loud speaker and they get to pick out a toy. We go to our favorite local toy store (aka The Pizza Toy Store) and they get to pick out something little after we’re done eating the best pizza in town. And they get to pick a fun activity for the afternoon, which for the past couple of years has been Chuck E. Cheese for both of them. They love it there because they get to play games and run to their hearts content. I don’t mind it because it’s totally empty in the middle of a week day and they get to run to their hearts content without me having to follow them all over the place. Plus the salad bar is pretty good.
Then there is the birthday party. But the biggest birthday celebration always happens on their actual birthdays and it’s usually just me and them. Which I actually kind of like. I’m pretty sure that as The Boy gets older he’s not going to want it to just be me, but for now, it’s actually really nice to just have a whole day of frivolity to just spoil them rotten and play.
I love birthdays. I love to spoil my friends and my mom and my husband. I love to make a big deal out of them. I love to throw surprise parties. I just love them.
And today My Girl turns 3. She’s huge and brilliant and funny and beautiful and free-spirited and creative. And I, quite simply, adore her. Happy Third Birthday my amazing girl!
“But I’m shooting birthday stuff at her. And I think she likes it.”
This little exchange took place between me and The Boy this morning as I was making French toast to start off The Girl’s birthday day extravaganza. I thought it was sort of sweet, and really, really funny.
I always make a huge deal out of the kids’ birthdays. We spend the whole day of their birthdays doing all of their most favorite stuff. We got to Toys R US (aka The Big Toy Store) where they get their birthday announced on the loud speaker and they get to pick out a toy. We go to our favorite local toy store (aka The Pizza Toy Store) and they get to pick out something little after we’re done eating the best pizza in town. And they get to pick a fun activity for the afternoon, which for the past couple of years has been Chuck E. Cheese for both of them. They love it there because they get to play games and run to their hearts content. I don’t mind it because it’s totally empty in the middle of a week day and they get to run to their hearts content without me having to follow them all over the place. Plus the salad bar is pretty good.
Then there is the birthday party. But the biggest birthday celebration always happens on their actual birthdays and it’s usually just me and them. Which I actually kind of like. I’m pretty sure that as The Boy gets older he’s not going to want it to just be me, but for now, it’s actually really nice to just have a whole day of frivolity to just spoil them rotten and play.
I love birthdays. I love to spoil my friends and my mom and my husband. I love to make a big deal out of them. I love to throw surprise parties. I just love them.
And today My Girl turns 3. She’s huge and brilliant and funny and beautiful and free-spirited and creative. And I, quite simply, adore her. Happy Third Birthday my amazing girl!
5/21/09
Graduation Day
The Boy graduated from kindergarten today. Yes. I said graduated. It’s a milestone, in my opinion, to go from kindergarten to first grade. From pretend school to elementary school. Because even though the advent of serious competency testing has moved kindergarten from all frills and finger paint to something a bit more serious, let’s face it, it is still mostly arts and crafts with a good dose of reading thrown in for good measure.
This year has been a wakeup call for him in a big way. And for us, as his parents, in a lot of ways as well. His eyes have been opened to the fact that not everything in life is about play and fun. That there are times that you just have to buckle down and work if you want to move forward. You have to commit yourself to learning new things or you get left behind. And he’s starting to learn that the world does not revolve around him every moment of the day.
For us, for me especially, we’ve learned that we may need to hold his hand a bit more. To provide some additional guidance on how to prioritize. On how to make choices. On how to take his blinders off. I think I’ve been thinking (most likely because he’s my first born and therefore can do little wrong in the greater scheme of things) that he’d just get it. Life would just arrive at his door step and he would greet it with the gorgeous manners with which we’ve equipped him and run gaily into the sunset of ultimate success. Watching him struggle so completely with learning how to read has shattered that day dream and brought us all down to earth. In a good way.
I have no intentions of lowering my expectations for him. I have however, learned how to look at progress towards meeting (and exceeding) those expectations in the grandest spectrum of color instead of just black and white. And that in and of itself is a tremendous gift.
I am so thoroughly proud of my boy. I am so thrilled to see what is next on this road of adventure for him.
This year has been a wakeup call for him in a big way. And for us, as his parents, in a lot of ways as well. His eyes have been opened to the fact that not everything in life is about play and fun. That there are times that you just have to buckle down and work if you want to move forward. You have to commit yourself to learning new things or you get left behind. And he’s starting to learn that the world does not revolve around him every moment of the day.
For us, for me especially, we’ve learned that we may need to hold his hand a bit more. To provide some additional guidance on how to prioritize. On how to make choices. On how to take his blinders off. I think I’ve been thinking (most likely because he’s my first born and therefore can do little wrong in the greater scheme of things) that he’d just get it. Life would just arrive at his door step and he would greet it with the gorgeous manners with which we’ve equipped him and run gaily into the sunset of ultimate success. Watching him struggle so completely with learning how to read has shattered that day dream and brought us all down to earth. In a good way.
I have no intentions of lowering my expectations for him. I have however, learned how to look at progress towards meeting (and exceeding) those expectations in the grandest spectrum of color instead of just black and white. And that in and of itself is a tremendous gift.
I am so thoroughly proud of my boy. I am so thrilled to see what is next on this road of adventure for him.
5/20/09
Website Pondering
Ok. I just saw a commercial for a website called onlinebootycall.com. There are so many things wrong with this I am not at all sure where to start.
Let’s start with the fact that the actual name of the website brings more questions to my mind than clarity. Is it a cyber sex site? Is it a dating site? Is it a place to find people with whom to only have booty calls? Are said booty calls online only or do you actually meet in person? Maybe I’m a little out of touch, but I just need a little more description than that.
Also, the commercial? Featured this cavemanesque looking man proclaiming to be the founder and CEO of said website. He goes on to say how this site was about looking outside the box. Forget the flowers! Forget the candle light dinners! Forget the wooing and chivalry! The last frame of the commercial is of some skank throwing a bouquet of flowers at a man in a button up shirt laying sadly on the ground and then parading out of the shot on the arm of the original cavemanesque gentleman.
There’s also a website out there whose sole purpose is to hook up married people who want to cheat. I’m actually a wee bit intrigued by that one. Not because I want to cheat but because I want to see how it works. Is it all dark and steamy or is it all guilt ridden and hesitant?
I also wonder if these websites are successful in any way. I mean the cutting edge commercials surely point to the magnitude of their success, but I would really love to see some numbers on these suckers. I mean seriously, what kind of advertising revenue do they see? What does their customer base look like? I love to just steal a look at their books.
And call me old fashioned and crazy if you want, but I’m never going to throw a bouquet of flowers at anyone. I love flowers. What I don’t love? Scary steroid men in polyester shirts and fake tans whose own personal heroes died in the 70’s of some horrible brain eating STD.
Let’s start with the fact that the actual name of the website brings more questions to my mind than clarity. Is it a cyber sex site? Is it a dating site? Is it a place to find people with whom to only have booty calls? Are said booty calls online only or do you actually meet in person? Maybe I’m a little out of touch, but I just need a little more description than that.
Also, the commercial? Featured this cavemanesque looking man proclaiming to be the founder and CEO of said website. He goes on to say how this site was about looking outside the box. Forget the flowers! Forget the candle light dinners! Forget the wooing and chivalry! The last frame of the commercial is of some skank throwing a bouquet of flowers at a man in a button up shirt laying sadly on the ground and then parading out of the shot on the arm of the original cavemanesque gentleman.
There’s also a website out there whose sole purpose is to hook up married people who want to cheat. I’m actually a wee bit intrigued by that one. Not because I want to cheat but because I want to see how it works. Is it all dark and steamy or is it all guilt ridden and hesitant?
I also wonder if these websites are successful in any way. I mean the cutting edge commercials surely point to the magnitude of their success, but I would really love to see some numbers on these suckers. I mean seriously, what kind of advertising revenue do they see? What does their customer base look like? I love to just steal a look at their books.
And call me old fashioned and crazy if you want, but I’m never going to throw a bouquet of flowers at anyone. I love flowers. What I don’t love? Scary steroid men in polyester shirts and fake tans whose own personal heroes died in the 70’s of some horrible brain eating STD.
5/19/09
The Boy vs. The Choice
The antibiotics are in my system now. And they’re working hard. I do feel a bit better today. I’m still exhausted and hacking mercilessly, but I’m no longer actively begging to be taken out back and put out of my misery. And my fever finally broke. So I think we’re heading in the right direction.
But because I still feel pretty crappy, I have zero patience. The Boy has become relentless is his “I’m bored!” “I’m hungry!” “I want to do something fun!” His incessant baying for me to entertain him constantly has been wearing on my nerves quite a bit lately, but now that I’m sick I have lost even the smallest mote of tolerance I once had. He is one of the smartest and most creative boys his age I’ve ever known and this unending dependence upon me to give him things to do has been intact since his birth for the most part. The only real change has been in the complexity of what keeps him entertained for any given amount of time. It used to only take breastfeeding or dangling keys in front of his face to quiet him down. Now it takes some complicated obstacle course of activity to garner his attention for more than 30 seconds.
And it’s not that he can’t focus. He has an intent, and at times intense, ability to focus. When he wants to. And that right there is the key – when he wants to. Which is true for all of us to some extent I suppose, but the only other person whose entire existence is so completely dependent on choice that I’ve ever seen is my husband. The Boy has to choose to focus, to engage, to pay attention, to be entertained. Once that choice is made he’s good to go and can play or work or whatever for hours. But without that choice being made, it’s an endless volley of irritating questions that pushes me to the very edge of sanity.
Perhaps instead of trying to put him off or redirect him to something else, I should focus more on getting him to make choices. Maybe that will save both of our sanity.
But because I still feel pretty crappy, I have zero patience. The Boy has become relentless is his “I’m bored!” “I’m hungry!” “I want to do something fun!” His incessant baying for me to entertain him constantly has been wearing on my nerves quite a bit lately, but now that I’m sick I have lost even the smallest mote of tolerance I once had. He is one of the smartest and most creative boys his age I’ve ever known and this unending dependence upon me to give him things to do has been intact since his birth for the most part. The only real change has been in the complexity of what keeps him entertained for any given amount of time. It used to only take breastfeeding or dangling keys in front of his face to quiet him down. Now it takes some complicated obstacle course of activity to garner his attention for more than 30 seconds.
And it’s not that he can’t focus. He has an intent, and at times intense, ability to focus. When he wants to. And that right there is the key – when he wants to. Which is true for all of us to some extent I suppose, but the only other person whose entire existence is so completely dependent on choice that I’ve ever seen is my husband. The Boy has to choose to focus, to engage, to pay attention, to be entertained. Once that choice is made he’s good to go and can play or work or whatever for hours. But without that choice being made, it’s an endless volley of irritating questions that pushes me to the very edge of sanity.
Perhaps instead of trying to put him off or redirect him to something else, I should focus more on getting him to make choices. Maybe that will save both of our sanity.
5/18/09
Pitifully Sick
I am sicker than I’ve been in a very, very long time. What I thought was just a cold has turned me into a sniffling, hacking, weeping ball of sadness. I’ve had a low grade fever going up and down for the last three days and my cough has gone from a moderately productive, raspy, every so often annoyance straight to a socked into my chest, horrible barking, entire body wracking and unceasing complete pain in my ass. And pretty much everywhere else.
It’s become so bad in fact that I called my sweet friend L this morning in tears to beg her to have her husband (who is a doctor) talk to me and make it better. And I felt awful about it because I was pretty sure today was his day off. And I know when you have a day off it’s usually packed full before the day’s even begun. And the last thing you want to be doing is working. Especially when some crazy friend of your wife’s calls pitifully and begs you to make her better.
He listened to me cough and asked me a few questions and given that had just increased his to-do list for the day, was very sweet. So he called in an antibiotic prescription and hopefully by this time tomorrow I will be feeling much better. I hope that I will be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight and by tomorrow the coughing will have quieted a bit and reverted back to being productive. By this time tomorrow my fever will have broken and I will once again gain joy from hearing my children’s voices instead of their delightful questions and tinkling giggles making me want to jump in front of a bus.
Mostly I’m just tired of being a pathetic lump on the couch (although I am now completely caught up on all my DVR’d shows and I got to scratch my The West Wing itch). I’m tired of my own personal to-do list looming in front of me. I’m tired of being incapacitated by something out of my control. I’m so ready to have my entire house and everyone in it healthy!
It’s become so bad in fact that I called my sweet friend L this morning in tears to beg her to have her husband (who is a doctor) talk to me and make it better. And I felt awful about it because I was pretty sure today was his day off. And I know when you have a day off it’s usually packed full before the day’s even begun. And the last thing you want to be doing is working. Especially when some crazy friend of your wife’s calls pitifully and begs you to make her better.
He listened to me cough and asked me a few questions and given that had just increased his to-do list for the day, was very sweet. So he called in an antibiotic prescription and hopefully by this time tomorrow I will be feeling much better. I hope that I will be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight and by tomorrow the coughing will have quieted a bit and reverted back to being productive. By this time tomorrow my fever will have broken and I will once again gain joy from hearing my children’s voices instead of their delightful questions and tinkling giggles making me want to jump in front of a bus.
Mostly I’m just tired of being a pathetic lump on the couch (although I am now completely caught up on all my DVR’d shows and I got to scratch my The West Wing itch). I’m tired of my own personal to-do list looming in front of me. I’m tired of being incapacitated by something out of my control. I’m so ready to have my entire house and everyone in it healthy!
5/17/09
Thrill to Read
Every time I pick up one of these books – the kind that suck you in and become an obsession – I’m reminded of why I love these escapist stories. Of course I admire the years of research that go into writing such an amazing tale and the author’s craft of writing is also a thrill. Ultimately what sucks me in the most is the fleeting chance to pretend I’m someone else for 400 pages. Whether that be a brilliant symbologist in search of the Holy Grail, an artist with an ability to paint an alternate reality, Christ’s bodyguard or many others it’s the chance to live through another character’s eyes, to walk in someone else’s shoes.
Ten years ago my path was laid out before me, ripe for the taking. I was going to be a constitutional scholar after getting a PhD in Political Philosophy and a JD in Constitutional Law. I had great dreams of bringing the glory of the constitution back, renewing its relevance to everyday life. I had dreams of being an expert in something that mattered. Not realizing that has made me second guess myself for years now. Falling by accident into a 9-year long career of nonprofit fundraising and grant writing made me an expert in that field and has been rewarding and failure-ridden.
There is still a part of me that longs to be an expert in something that is thought of so highly. Perhaps that’s my ulterior motive for writing. Because, especially while writing on a blog, there is no counterpoint. I get to be the one and only expert on whatever topic I’m babbling on about at any given time.
I think mostly though what really reels me into these stories is the adventure of it all. Not that I’m hungering to be chased by the police or assassins, but the thrill of discovery through thought and detection totally gets my blood pumping. I’m such a research dork at heart. That’s why grant writing was so attractive to me, it’s just writing research papers that you get paid for.
But even the most high pressure federal grant applications don’t get my heart rate racing like a good book.
Ten years ago my path was laid out before me, ripe for the taking. I was going to be a constitutional scholar after getting a PhD in Political Philosophy and a JD in Constitutional Law. I had great dreams of bringing the glory of the constitution back, renewing its relevance to everyday life. I had dreams of being an expert in something that mattered. Not realizing that has made me second guess myself for years now. Falling by accident into a 9-year long career of nonprofit fundraising and grant writing made me an expert in that field and has been rewarding and failure-ridden.
There is still a part of me that longs to be an expert in something that is thought of so highly. Perhaps that’s my ulterior motive for writing. Because, especially while writing on a blog, there is no counterpoint. I get to be the one and only expert on whatever topic I’m babbling on about at any given time.
I think mostly though what really reels me into these stories is the adventure of it all. Not that I’m hungering to be chased by the police or assassins, but the thrill of discovery through thought and detection totally gets my blood pumping. I’m such a research dork at heart. That’s why grant writing was so attractive to me, it’s just writing research papers that you get paid for.
But even the most high pressure federal grant applications don’t get my heart rate racing like a good book.
5/16/09
In Search of Sassy Sandals
So here’s the thing about my Mojo Boots. I can’t wear them in the summer. Ack!!! I’ve been finding myself wishing for rainy or chilly days so that I can still wear them. But we are in full swing spring here, so their days are limited.
One would think that this would be just the excuse I need to go shoe shopping. But there are two problems with that. The first is that while I typically love to go shoe shopping, I really detest shopping for sandals. Like so much else about my body that has changed since having babies, my feet have widened. So it’s almost impossible for me to find cute, sassy, strappy sandals that are even remotely comfortable. And even though I’m willing to wear shoes for a short time that aren’t Birkenstock level of comfort, I do need to be able to actually stand up and walk in them without crying.
The second problem is that I’m actually pretty sure that I won’t be able to find any sandals that will measure up to the Mojo Boots. Because sandals just carry a different kind of attitude with them. An open, sexier kind of feel. And that’s not necessarily something I’m entirely comfortable with as of yet.
The Mojo Boots make me feel powerful and badass. Sandals tend to make me feel a bit more exposed. And I guess that if I can find that perfect pair of sandals that they too will rise to the level of appreciation and acclaim that the Mojo Boots have. I have to give sandals a chance I suppose.
Mostly what this all boils down to is embracing summer. And I’ve always rebelled against summer. Because of the heat and the change in wardrobe and, well, the heat.
Summer means the baring of suntanned skin, the trickle of sweat running down my back. The tank tops and the shorter skirts and capris. Running through the sprinklers or playing in the pool with the kiddos. Embracing summer is a bit of a risk for me. Because it means embracing my own inner sexiness. And it’s time I suppose. Now I just have to find those Sassy Sandals.
One would think that this would be just the excuse I need to go shoe shopping. But there are two problems with that. The first is that while I typically love to go shoe shopping, I really detest shopping for sandals. Like so much else about my body that has changed since having babies, my feet have widened. So it’s almost impossible for me to find cute, sassy, strappy sandals that are even remotely comfortable. And even though I’m willing to wear shoes for a short time that aren’t Birkenstock level of comfort, I do need to be able to actually stand up and walk in them without crying.
The second problem is that I’m actually pretty sure that I won’t be able to find any sandals that will measure up to the Mojo Boots. Because sandals just carry a different kind of attitude with them. An open, sexier kind of feel. And that’s not necessarily something I’m entirely comfortable with as of yet.
The Mojo Boots make me feel powerful and badass. Sandals tend to make me feel a bit more exposed. And I guess that if I can find that perfect pair of sandals that they too will rise to the level of appreciation and acclaim that the Mojo Boots have. I have to give sandals a chance I suppose.
Mostly what this all boils down to is embracing summer. And I’ve always rebelled against summer. Because of the heat and the change in wardrobe and, well, the heat.
Summer means the baring of suntanned skin, the trickle of sweat running down my back. The tank tops and the shorter skirts and capris. Running through the sprinklers or playing in the pool with the kiddos. Embracing summer is a bit of a risk for me. Because it means embracing my own inner sexiness. And it’s time I suppose. Now I just have to find those Sassy Sandals.
5/15/09 - The Girl's Moving on Up
**Sickness took over my brain last night and I flat forgot to post this. Sorry!!! **
The Girl’s last day of school is today. This was her first year of preschool (well half year I suppose since she didn’t start until January). And there is part of me that cannot believe how big she is. In two short years, she will be in Kindergarten. That is amazed to look at the growth chart in her classroom and see how much she has grown in five months. And she’s continuing to take on her father’s body type by getting so much taller but actually weighing less than she did in January. Although some of that may have to do with the whole pneumonia thing.
Her preschool is doing a big end of year celebration party tonight with dinner and an art show. The Boy went to this school for three years, so I’m pretty accustomed to the end of year routine. They’ve done an art show at year’s end ever since he started going there. So we’ll now have a piece of art from The Girl to add to the collection. And she’ll get to be called up to the front of the room and have her teacher (whom she adores and insists on giving hugs and kisses before she leaves) give her a certificate of completion for this year. And she will beam as she runs up there amid all the other parents clapping for her and me catching as many pictures as I can.
Some people think this routine is a little crazy for a two or three year old. That having a graduation or a celebration for anything but high school or college is just silly. But after seeing the smiles that light up the faces of my children and after seeing the pride they have in their accomplishment, I am no longer one of those people. I understand the danger of over-praising kids for doing things that they should be doing anyway. But moving up through the levels of education with pride and success and a growing love of learning is always something to be celebrated in my world.
I will snap entirely too many pictures. And I will clap and tear up. I am her proud mama.
The Girl’s last day of school is today. This was her first year of preschool (well half year I suppose since she didn’t start until January). And there is part of me that cannot believe how big she is. In two short years, she will be in Kindergarten. That is amazed to look at the growth chart in her classroom and see how much she has grown in five months. And she’s continuing to take on her father’s body type by getting so much taller but actually weighing less than she did in January. Although some of that may have to do with the whole pneumonia thing.
Her preschool is doing a big end of year celebration party tonight with dinner and an art show. The Boy went to this school for three years, so I’m pretty accustomed to the end of year routine. They’ve done an art show at year’s end ever since he started going there. So we’ll now have a piece of art from The Girl to add to the collection. And she’ll get to be called up to the front of the room and have her teacher (whom she adores and insists on giving hugs and kisses before she leaves) give her a certificate of completion for this year. And she will beam as she runs up there amid all the other parents clapping for her and me catching as many pictures as I can.
Some people think this routine is a little crazy for a two or three year old. That having a graduation or a celebration for anything but high school or college is just silly. But after seeing the smiles that light up the faces of my children and after seeing the pride they have in their accomplishment, I am no longer one of those people. I understand the danger of over-praising kids for doing things that they should be doing anyway. But moving up through the levels of education with pride and success and a growing love of learning is always something to be celebrated in my world.
I will snap entirely too many pictures. And I will clap and tear up. I am her proud mama.
5/14/09
mur, mur, mur, blah, blah, blah
I don’t want to write today!! I don’t want to write today!! I don’t want to write today!! I don’t want to write today!!
I’m tired of straining for a creativity that is just not there at the moment. I’m tired of trying to come with new and interesting things to say. Especially on days like today where I am so entirely immersed in daily grind and to-do list bullshit that writing some provocative and/or interesting is just really far away from my capacity.
I’m whiny and irritated that I have this fucking cold and I’m tired because the children aren’t sleeping worth a damn and I’m busy with a bunch of stuff that in a week simply won’t matter and all of this is keeping me from doing what I really want to be doing. I want to get back into the pro bono projects I’m working on and dropped when the whole seizure/pneumonia thing happened. I want to be manifesting getting a job so I can stop stressing about our finances. I want to be getting excited about summer and everything that goes with it. I want to be drinking cocktails with my girlfriends!!
Granted a lot of this I am the only one keeping myself from achieving progress. I’m whiny and unbalanced and flailing. And that’s a choice I suppose. A choice made either consciously or subconsciously as a response to everything with The Girl and life in general right now.
And it’s a strange place to be because even though I’m all scattered and willy nilly, I haven’t really lost any of the confidence I’ve cultivated over the last year. I haven’t really lost much of the direction or conviction. I haven’t really lost much of the progress I’ve made. I’m just confidently scattered I suppose. And it’s a goofy place to be.
But here I am. So I’m trying to continue to just be with everyday and take it as it comes. Keep my head up, my shoulders back and my eyes on the prize. Keep breathing and keep on keeping on so to speak. I mean I’m bound to figure out which way is up sooner or later right?
I’m tired of straining for a creativity that is just not there at the moment. I’m tired of trying to come with new and interesting things to say. Especially on days like today where I am so entirely immersed in daily grind and to-do list bullshit that writing some provocative and/or interesting is just really far away from my capacity.
I’m whiny and irritated that I have this fucking cold and I’m tired because the children aren’t sleeping worth a damn and I’m busy with a bunch of stuff that in a week simply won’t matter and all of this is keeping me from doing what I really want to be doing. I want to get back into the pro bono projects I’m working on and dropped when the whole seizure/pneumonia thing happened. I want to be manifesting getting a job so I can stop stressing about our finances. I want to be getting excited about summer and everything that goes with it. I want to be drinking cocktails with my girlfriends!!
Granted a lot of this I am the only one keeping myself from achieving progress. I’m whiny and unbalanced and flailing. And that’s a choice I suppose. A choice made either consciously or subconsciously as a response to everything with The Girl and life in general right now.
And it’s a strange place to be because even though I’m all scattered and willy nilly, I haven’t really lost any of the confidence I’ve cultivated over the last year. I haven’t really lost much of the direction or conviction. I haven’t really lost much of the progress I’ve made. I’m just confidently scattered I suppose. And it’s a goofy place to be.
But here I am. So I’m trying to continue to just be with everyday and take it as it comes. Keep my head up, my shoulders back and my eyes on the prize. Keep breathing and keep on keeping on so to speak. I mean I’m bound to figure out which way is up sooner or later right?
5/13/09
LOST
I have documented the extent of my TV addiction on here before. It’s my brain candy time. It’s my fantasy, fun time. But what I’ve never really said (that I can remember anyway, things are starting to fall through the cracks of my memory) is that there are only really a few shows that I get so into that I look forward to them every week. That I get emotionally involved with the characters. That end up becoming more than just brain candy and wind up becoming leading members in my own personal pop culture.
LOST is one of those shows. And jiminy fucking Christmas did they do the cliff hanger to end all cliff hangers on the season finale tonight! Truth be told, I almost gave up on LOST last season. It got boring and there no longer seemed to be any point to the mythology. The questions were getting asked simply for the sake of asking them not because there was ever going to be any answers of consequence. Well this season it really kicked back into gear and it’s been ohmygod good. And now the season finale that had me cheering and crying and laughing and crying. And I have to wait until next YEAR (yes that says year, as in 2010) to find out what’s going to happen. Which will, in and of itself, be bittersweet. Because next season will be the last season. They announced two years ago that the series would be finite, with a very foreseeable end in sight. And to be honest, I haven’t really cared that much about the series ending until tonight.
Tonight’s episode was a perfect example of why I got so hooked on this show to begin with. I even found myself not cussing out Kate every other thought. I actually found myself sort of rooting for Jack. It was just a brilliant episode. Totally kept my brain engaged and my butt on the edge of its seat. This was an episode that made me want to jump into the crazy LOST fan sites and research and nurture theories to post on those crazy fan sites.
Oh yeah, it’s just that damn good.
LOST is one of those shows. And jiminy fucking Christmas did they do the cliff hanger to end all cliff hangers on the season finale tonight! Truth be told, I almost gave up on LOST last season. It got boring and there no longer seemed to be any point to the mythology. The questions were getting asked simply for the sake of asking them not because there was ever going to be any answers of consequence. Well this season it really kicked back into gear and it’s been ohmygod good. And now the season finale that had me cheering and crying and laughing and crying. And I have to wait until next YEAR (yes that says year, as in 2010) to find out what’s going to happen. Which will, in and of itself, be bittersweet. Because next season will be the last season. They announced two years ago that the series would be finite, with a very foreseeable end in sight. And to be honest, I haven’t really cared that much about the series ending until tonight.
Tonight’s episode was a perfect example of why I got so hooked on this show to begin with. I even found myself not cussing out Kate every other thought. I actually found myself sort of rooting for Jack. It was just a brilliant episode. Totally kept my brain engaged and my butt on the edge of its seat. This was an episode that made me want to jump into the crazy LOST fan sites and research and nurture theories to post on those crazy fan sites.
Oh yeah, it’s just that damn good.
5/12/09
Sick Again, Sick Again Jiggedy Jig
Ok, so I am sick. Again. And I’m fucking pissed off about it. It’s spring. We’re having more 80 degree days than not. There are flowers being planted. There are lawns being mowed. There are vegetables already poking their little green heads above the gardens in which they are planted. My children are having field days for Christ’s sake. Head colds are supposed to be completely outlawed once all of that starts happening. I woke up yesterday with that my nose is itching but I’ve got that yucky sickly feeling in the back of my throat. I spent the majority of the day trying to talk myself into it just being allergies and/or a super dry throat. Or maybe all of the above. I realized that I had failed miserably when I was laying on the couch last night with chills, feeling like crap and uber crabby about the whole thing. I woke up this morning feeling even worse. And spent all day trying not to rip my children’s heads off every time they asked me anything. Or moved. Or breathed.
And really, I’m not all that sick. I’ve certainly been sicker than this. Recently even. But I am just like at my boiling point with sickness and not feeling centered. I’m tired of sickness in this house. I’m tired of my sweet friends having to deal with sickness. I’m tired of feeling so totally strung out and crazy.
How do you get over whiplash? I mean seriously. The Girl is fine and healthy. The Boy is fine and healthy. My husband is fine and healthy. Why can’t I get my feet back under me with all of this? It’s starting to feel pretty ridiculous. I mean seriously. Get over it already.
Maybe I should just go to H’s house and let him get me resoundingly drunk again. Clear the slate. Start from ground zero. He’s been hinting at wanting to throw some wood in the chiminea, throw a bunch of darts at or near the man-shed and drink many, many beers and/or any other tasty beverages he happens to have on hand. Hmmmmm…tasty beverages and darts…
There just might be hope for me yet.
And really, I’m not all that sick. I’ve certainly been sicker than this. Recently even. But I am just like at my boiling point with sickness and not feeling centered. I’m tired of sickness in this house. I’m tired of my sweet friends having to deal with sickness. I’m tired of feeling so totally strung out and crazy.
How do you get over whiplash? I mean seriously. The Girl is fine and healthy. The Boy is fine and healthy. My husband is fine and healthy. Why can’t I get my feet back under me with all of this? It’s starting to feel pretty ridiculous. I mean seriously. Get over it already.
Maybe I should just go to H’s house and let him get me resoundingly drunk again. Clear the slate. Start from ground zero. He’s been hinting at wanting to throw some wood in the chiminea, throw a bunch of darts at or near the man-shed and drink many, many beers and/or any other tasty beverages he happens to have on hand. Hmmmmm…tasty beverages and darts…
There just might be hope for me yet.
5/11/09
Where Does God Live?
The Boy: “Where does God live?”.
Me: “I don’t know where he lives. Some people think he lives in the sky, some people think he lives in the stars, some people think he lives in the trees and the oceans and the earth, some people think he lives in the moon and some people think he lives in your heart. Where do you think he lives?”
The Boy: “I think he lives in the stars. That’s where I would want to live.”
I have absolutely no idea where this question came from today. We are not a religious family. I’ve never been baptized and neither have either of our children. I mean I went to Catholic school for first through fifth grades, and I went to youth group in high school (solely for the friends, not the church) and was one class away from a religion minor in college (solely from an academic point of view, I loved studying the mythology behind religion), but that is the full extent of my religious involvement. I have always had a hard time with religion. I’ve grilled many friends into the ground about their faith and beliefs, many to the point where they just ended up yelling at me to leave them alone. I’ve read and researched and studied. I’ve tried to do religion. Because I would love to be a part of the community inherent in religion. And I would love to have the certainty that faith gives you; the trust. But it has always been a struggle for me.
The Boy went to a Jewish preschool for three years, but that is the full extent of his religious exposure. And this is the first time that he’s ever asked me about God or anything else religious for that matter. He started singing the Jewish children’s songs from the age of 2 and would re-tell me the stories he heard (particularly the ones with his name in them). But that was about it.
I find myself both grateful for and scared of this question. Scared that I will provide wrong answers. Grateful that I get another crack at understanding this level of faith through my son’s eyes.
Me: “I don’t know where he lives. Some people think he lives in the sky, some people think he lives in the stars, some people think he lives in the trees and the oceans and the earth, some people think he lives in the moon and some people think he lives in your heart. Where do you think he lives?”
The Boy: “I think he lives in the stars. That’s where I would want to live.”
I have absolutely no idea where this question came from today. We are not a religious family. I’ve never been baptized and neither have either of our children. I mean I went to Catholic school for first through fifth grades, and I went to youth group in high school (solely for the friends, not the church) and was one class away from a religion minor in college (solely from an academic point of view, I loved studying the mythology behind religion), but that is the full extent of my religious involvement. I have always had a hard time with religion. I’ve grilled many friends into the ground about their faith and beliefs, many to the point where they just ended up yelling at me to leave them alone. I’ve read and researched and studied. I’ve tried to do religion. Because I would love to be a part of the community inherent in religion. And I would love to have the certainty that faith gives you; the trust. But it has always been a struggle for me.
The Boy went to a Jewish preschool for three years, but that is the full extent of his religious exposure. And this is the first time that he’s ever asked me about God or anything else religious for that matter. He started singing the Jewish children’s songs from the age of 2 and would re-tell me the stories he heard (particularly the ones with his name in them). But that was about it.
I find myself both grateful for and scared of this question. Scared that I will provide wrong answers. Grateful that I get another crack at understanding this level of faith through my son’s eyes.
5/10/09
Mother's Day
“When I was younger I was so full of expectations for myself, and was utterly unafraid to demand that those expectations be met. While I am still unabashed in my expectations of others and when it comes to responsibility and being a mother, myself as well, I find that I no longer expect myself to be happy, beautiful or excited about any of it. There was a time when I expected myself to not only succeed in everything I did to the highest extent, but to do it with style. Now I just try to get my teeth brushed every day.
When did the ideas of mother and beautiful become mutually exclusive in my mind? Why can’t I celebrate my happiness in being a mother on Mother’s Day instead of only that which I’ve sacrificed? Mother’s Day has almost turned into a day to glorify the martyrs of motherhood instead of a day to celebrate the being of mother.
I want to celebrate my ability to grow, carry and birth a new life. I want to celebrate my ability to soothe with song and breast in the middle of the night. I want to celebrate my ability to guide with strong voice and body. I want to celebrate the gift of my children and what they’ve given me.
I want to look in the mirror on Mother’s Day and think, celebrate yourself you beautiful mama. And then I want to believe it.”
I wrote this two years ago on Mother’s Day. And I spent today mostly on the couch watching movies and playing with the kids as they ambled in and out of the family room. They spent most of the day outside with their Dad working in the yard and riding bikes. And I’ve been thinking about this piece of writing from two years ago. Wondering how and if I’m different now.
I’ve been working on re-building the bridge between my own brand of beauty and my identity as a mother. It spent about 18 months in the planning stages, but was put on an accelerated construction plan and it’s almost done. The bolts are being tightened and the belief is coming into focus.
When did the ideas of mother and beautiful become mutually exclusive in my mind? Why can’t I celebrate my happiness in being a mother on Mother’s Day instead of only that which I’ve sacrificed? Mother’s Day has almost turned into a day to glorify the martyrs of motherhood instead of a day to celebrate the being of mother.
I want to celebrate my ability to grow, carry and birth a new life. I want to celebrate my ability to soothe with song and breast in the middle of the night. I want to celebrate my ability to guide with strong voice and body. I want to celebrate the gift of my children and what they’ve given me.
I want to look in the mirror on Mother’s Day and think, celebrate yourself you beautiful mama. And then I want to believe it.”
I wrote this two years ago on Mother’s Day. And I spent today mostly on the couch watching movies and playing with the kids as they ambled in and out of the family room. They spent most of the day outside with their Dad working in the yard and riding bikes. And I’ve been thinking about this piece of writing from two years ago. Wondering how and if I’m different now.
I’ve been working on re-building the bridge between my own brand of beauty and my identity as a mother. It spent about 18 months in the planning stages, but was put on an accelerated construction plan and it’s almost done. The bolts are being tightened and the belief is coming into focus.
5/9/09
Mi CASA
I was a CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocate) for a little more than two years. I saw the ad for the volunteer position in the New Mexico small town newspaper where I was living at the time and immediately had mixed feelings. It came at a time when I was trying to decide if I wanted to go into the direct service or administrative field of social services. I knew that this would give me valuable training for direct service, but I also knew it would be extremely hard on me emotionally and most likely take an immense amount of time even if it was just a volunteer position.
But I jumped in with both feet and really just threw myself into it. Most CASA’s work on several cases over the course of a year. I had the same case for the entire time I was involved with the organization. It was a family of four children who was being raised by their grandparents. Their mother was a serious addict and every single child had a different father. The kids were taken away from their grandparents because they were found to be keeping these children in cages and keeping them so drugged that the oldest (he was 7 at the time) had started noticeably drooling in school. And it came out later that the grandfather had sexually molested the little girl and that he had severely beaten all four children.
I came onto the case about three days after the children had been removed from the home. And I stayed with them for more than two years. I celebrated birthdays. I worked with the treatment team to try to figure out new ways to work with the oldest when he started showing signs of developing a sociopathic nature due to the level of abuse he had endured. I became good friends with the foster family.
I still think about these children and wonder where they are today. I wonder if they ever found a family to adopt them. I wonder if they were able to find happiness. I wonder if those two years that I will never forget, made any difference to anyone except me.
But I jumped in with both feet and really just threw myself into it. Most CASA’s work on several cases over the course of a year. I had the same case for the entire time I was involved with the organization. It was a family of four children who was being raised by their grandparents. Their mother was a serious addict and every single child had a different father. The kids were taken away from their grandparents because they were found to be keeping these children in cages and keeping them so drugged that the oldest (he was 7 at the time) had started noticeably drooling in school. And it came out later that the grandfather had sexually molested the little girl and that he had severely beaten all four children.
I came onto the case about three days after the children had been removed from the home. And I stayed with them for more than two years. I celebrated birthdays. I worked with the treatment team to try to figure out new ways to work with the oldest when he started showing signs of developing a sociopathic nature due to the level of abuse he had endured. I became good friends with the foster family.
I still think about these children and wonder where they are today. I wonder if they ever found a family to adopt them. I wonder if they were able to find happiness. I wonder if those two years that I will never forget, made any difference to anyone except me.
5/8/09
Assignment to Violence
I just watched a story on the news where a school district close to here had a teacher who gave an assignment to students to conceptualize and illustrate an act of terror on the US. The teacher claims that the original assignment was lost in translation and takes full responsibility for not describing what he was actually after well enough. Imagine if you will, students bringing this assignment home and then trying to explain to their parents why they were drawing pictures of strange people with lots of guns and bombs aimed at the White House. The parents then went immediately to the district to complain and the district then came down on the teacher for giving an assignment that was in direct conflict with the district’s zero tolerance policy for violence. The Superintendent was interviewed on the news saying “Here we are giving these kids an assignment that could potentially get them expelled for doing the assignment.” The assignment was cancelled and any and all completed assignments were “destroyed.”
Now don’t get me wrong. If The Boy were to come home with this sort of assignment it would most definitely take me off guard and probably my gut, reflexive response would be one of anger as well. Anger that a teacher was asking my son to think up a new way to be violent and then figure out how to perpetrate that violence. That’s just really something for which I personally have zero tolerance.
But it makes me extremely curious to see what the initial, and mistranslated, concept for the assignment was. I want to know what the point of it was; what the teacher was trying to convey. Because I tend to want to give the teacher the benefit of the doubt. I tend to want to think that he was trying to broaden horizons and encourage critical thinking.
The news didn’t give any information on what the original intent was for the assignment of course. They just focused on the drama and scandal behind the whole thing. But it makes me wonder if we’ll ever be able to look at things like terrorism with rational and critical thought instead of just reflexive emotion.
Now don’t get me wrong. If The Boy were to come home with this sort of assignment it would most definitely take me off guard and probably my gut, reflexive response would be one of anger as well. Anger that a teacher was asking my son to think up a new way to be violent and then figure out how to perpetrate that violence. That’s just really something for which I personally have zero tolerance.
But it makes me extremely curious to see what the initial, and mistranslated, concept for the assignment was. I want to know what the point of it was; what the teacher was trying to convey. Because I tend to want to give the teacher the benefit of the doubt. I tend to want to think that he was trying to broaden horizons and encourage critical thinking.
The news didn’t give any information on what the original intent was for the assignment of course. They just focused on the drama and scandal behind the whole thing. But it makes me wonder if we’ll ever be able to look at things like terrorism with rational and critical thought instead of just reflexive emotion.
5/7/09
Summer is on its Way
It’s the second week of May and I have a sun burn. How crazy is that?!? After almost a week of rain and/or snow depending on the random whimsy of the weather gods, the sun is shining and it’s bloody hot. I’ve been so happy to see the sun, that I’ve been unabashedly sitting in it. Yesterday on the deck while catching up with my mom and then watching The Boy’s last soccer game. Today when I met up with a couple of friends for a play date. We took the kids to the park to let them run off all the pent up energy and I sat and chatted with girlfriends. And it was lovely. But now here I am sitting on the couch and my back is very, very hot and the headache that I’ve had for the past four days is pounding with a newly revived and heat induced fervor and I am officially sunburned for the first time for 2009.
And even though I’ve actually enjoyed being slowly baked the past couple of days, I’m so not ready for this kind of heat every day. I’m not ready for air conditioning. I’m not ready to sit on the edge of my bed every morning staring blankly at my closet cursing summer clothes under my breath. I’m not ready to exist with a constant, and unattractive, sheen gleaming from every inch of exposed skin due to constant sweating. I’m not ready for summer!
This is a yearly thing for me. And it usually coexists with either my first sunburn or my first heat related migraine. This year it happens to follow on the heels of both. I love the surge of heat after the cold and rain and snow of winter and early spring. But after, say, oh two or three days? I’m totally over it. And I would willingly retreat back into rain and cold and snow. For, oh, say, two or three months. Then I’d take a couple of days of heat and then right back to the cold. Perfect.
But instead, summer is coming. We’ll put the pool back up soon. And I’ll buy this summer’s bottle of sunscreen.
And even though I’ve actually enjoyed being slowly baked the past couple of days, I’m so not ready for this kind of heat every day. I’m not ready for air conditioning. I’m not ready to sit on the edge of my bed every morning staring blankly at my closet cursing summer clothes under my breath. I’m not ready to exist with a constant, and unattractive, sheen gleaming from every inch of exposed skin due to constant sweating. I’m not ready for summer!
This is a yearly thing for me. And it usually coexists with either my first sunburn or my first heat related migraine. This year it happens to follow on the heels of both. I love the surge of heat after the cold and rain and snow of winter and early spring. But after, say, oh two or three days? I’m totally over it. And I would willingly retreat back into rain and cold and snow. For, oh, say, two or three months. Then I’d take a couple of days of heat and then right back to the cold. Perfect.
But instead, summer is coming. We’ll put the pool back up soon. And I’ll buy this summer’s bottle of sunscreen.
5/6/09
Whiplash
I have been feeling really weird and out of it lately. And as I was trying to explain the whole thing to my mom this morning, something dawned on me. I think that mother guilt is almost easier to deal with than the simple not knowing when or if something will strike.
I’ve had several instances that should definitely be nominated for the “Worst Mother of the Year” award. Like when me opening The Boy’s door to his room caused his first tooth to be knocked out. Or when I let The Girl swallow a quarter last year which then got stuck in her esophagus and had to be surgically removed. Or when I let The Boy fall down an entire flight of stairs when he was just starting to crawl.
But this whole seizure thing with The Girl came out of nowhere and I didn’t do anything wrong, nor should I have done anything different. So there really is not any guilt surrounding it for me. At least when there’s guilt then I can learn from my fuck up and do something different in the future. With this, I just have to wait and see. She may have another seizure tomorrow or she may never have another one again.
And this not knowing; this inability to change anything in my mothering to prevent this, in addition to the suddenness of it all has caused some fairly severe whiplash. I was plugging along really well. Applying for jobs, kicking ass on the pro bono projects I had taken on, starting to build on the late night idea for a pretty cool foundation, remembering all the stuff I needed to do for both kids’ schools. All the everyday sort of stuff as well as the ongoing work needed for this journey was coming along pretty well. I was focused and alert and completely in the moment. It was good.
Now? Now I’m all achy and weirded out and fuzzy. And I feel like I’m floundering trying to find my bearings again. It is a very strange feeling to know that you did everything right and still ended up smacking into that brick wall going 80 mph.
I’ve had several instances that should definitely be nominated for the “Worst Mother of the Year” award. Like when me opening The Boy’s door to his room caused his first tooth to be knocked out. Or when I let The Girl swallow a quarter last year which then got stuck in her esophagus and had to be surgically removed. Or when I let The Boy fall down an entire flight of stairs when he was just starting to crawl.
But this whole seizure thing with The Girl came out of nowhere and I didn’t do anything wrong, nor should I have done anything different. So there really is not any guilt surrounding it for me. At least when there’s guilt then I can learn from my fuck up and do something different in the future. With this, I just have to wait and see. She may have another seizure tomorrow or she may never have another one again.
And this not knowing; this inability to change anything in my mothering to prevent this, in addition to the suddenness of it all has caused some fairly severe whiplash. I was plugging along really well. Applying for jobs, kicking ass on the pro bono projects I had taken on, starting to build on the late night idea for a pretty cool foundation, remembering all the stuff I needed to do for both kids’ schools. All the everyday sort of stuff as well as the ongoing work needed for this journey was coming along pretty well. I was focused and alert and completely in the moment. It was good.
Now? Now I’m all achy and weirded out and fuzzy. And I feel like I’m floundering trying to find my bearings again. It is a very strange feeling to know that you did everything right and still ended up smacking into that brick wall going 80 mph.
5/5/09
Eavesdropping
“I’m all about babysitters these days.”
“Well that’s because you’ll have another one soon, demanding all of your attention and demanding boob access.”
“Not these boobs. Bottles only thank you.”
This was a conversation between two other mothers on our way out of preschool. As you can guess, one of them is very pregnant and due at the end of the month. They are both wonderfully sweet women. But I gotta tell you, this comment really took me off guard. And since it’s occupying most of my brain right now, I thought I’d write about it to try to get it out of my head so I can focus on other things. Like the migraine hangover I have. And everything that needs to be done.
I’m just completely flabbergasted. I guess I’m naïve enough to think that every woman would want to breastfeed their babies the moment they emerged from the womb. I have to say that before Elijah was born I sort of took it for granted that it would just be something that I’d be able to do with little to no problem. Until I read a breastfeeding book. And even though it was a really liberal, really fun book, it still scared the shit out of me. Because it broke my illusion and told me that nursing was work.
And it was work. But worth every minute of it. And I chose to let my children self-wean when they were ready. This meant that The Boy nursed until he was 22 months and The Girl nursed until she was 30 months. Now I can fully understand not every woman wanting to take on that sort of time commitment. I was lucky that I had the space and support to do it. But I simply CANNOT imagine choosing not to nurse at all. Not only is it totally confusing, but it makes me very, very sad.
Nursing my children was such a gift and such an avenue for soul level bonding for us. Not to say that it’s the only way to bond. But because I had the choice to nurse my children, I couldn’t imagine ever choosing a bottle over that opportunity.
“Well that’s because you’ll have another one soon, demanding all of your attention and demanding boob access.”
“Not these boobs. Bottles only thank you.”
This was a conversation between two other mothers on our way out of preschool. As you can guess, one of them is very pregnant and due at the end of the month. They are both wonderfully sweet women. But I gotta tell you, this comment really took me off guard. And since it’s occupying most of my brain right now, I thought I’d write about it to try to get it out of my head so I can focus on other things. Like the migraine hangover I have. And everything that needs to be done.
I’m just completely flabbergasted. I guess I’m naïve enough to think that every woman would want to breastfeed their babies the moment they emerged from the womb. I have to say that before Elijah was born I sort of took it for granted that it would just be something that I’d be able to do with little to no problem. Until I read a breastfeeding book. And even though it was a really liberal, really fun book, it still scared the shit out of me. Because it broke my illusion and told me that nursing was work.
And it was work. But worth every minute of it. And I chose to let my children self-wean when they were ready. This meant that The Boy nursed until he was 22 months and The Girl nursed until she was 30 months. Now I can fully understand not every woman wanting to take on that sort of time commitment. I was lucky that I had the space and support to do it. But I simply CANNOT imagine choosing not to nurse at all. Not only is it totally confusing, but it makes me very, very sad.
Nursing my children was such a gift and such an avenue for soul level bonding for us. Not to say that it’s the only way to bond. But because I had the choice to nurse my children, I couldn’t imagine ever choosing a bottle over that opportunity.
5/4/09
Coin Toss
Ok so I wrote a bit the other day about some of the things that make me a good mom. Let’s flip the coin and expose the underbelly of my current guilt about the things that make me a bad mom. Won’t this be fun?
The biggest thing right now is how unabashedly I put my children in front of the TV. I essentially lost two weeks with the whole The Girl’s having a seizure and also has pneumonia thing. So I’m totally behind on everything. My husband flipped his housewife switch yesterday to get us caught up on laundry, but it’s probably not all that sanitary to walk around my house barefoot right now. And we have an upperclassman worthy science experiment going in our master bathroom. And I’ve totally slacked on the pro bono projects I’m working on for friends and have totally put the foundation idea down and backed away. So we come into the house, I turn on the TV, pick up my laptop and commence ignoring of the children.
The other thing is that they both love to ask me the same question over and over. And usually by the third time I’m yelling the answer. It makes me crazy that they can’t listen enough the first time.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my own mental to-do list what with school ending for both kids in a couple of weeks, The Girl’s 3rd birthday approaching rapidly and trying to arrange summer activities that their pleas to go outside in the moments of sunshine to play have been ignored. I put them off on something else so I can get back to what I was concentrating on.
They eat pieced together meals or too much fast food as of late because I find myself almost always forgetting to take something out of the freezer and/or lacking the inspiration to do actually cook. Ketchup and ranch dressing are official food groups in this house.
Mostly I just feel so totally strung out that I’m missing these days of my children’s lives. Everything just whizzes past and I have no energy to stop it. It’s a good thing we have a DVR.
The biggest thing right now is how unabashedly I put my children in front of the TV. I essentially lost two weeks with the whole The Girl’s having a seizure and also has pneumonia thing. So I’m totally behind on everything. My husband flipped his housewife switch yesterday to get us caught up on laundry, but it’s probably not all that sanitary to walk around my house barefoot right now. And we have an upperclassman worthy science experiment going in our master bathroom. And I’ve totally slacked on the pro bono projects I’m working on for friends and have totally put the foundation idea down and backed away. So we come into the house, I turn on the TV, pick up my laptop and commence ignoring of the children.
The other thing is that they both love to ask me the same question over and over. And usually by the third time I’m yelling the answer. It makes me crazy that they can’t listen enough the first time.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my own mental to-do list what with school ending for both kids in a couple of weeks, The Girl’s 3rd birthday approaching rapidly and trying to arrange summer activities that their pleas to go outside in the moments of sunshine to play have been ignored. I put them off on something else so I can get back to what I was concentrating on.
They eat pieced together meals or too much fast food as of late because I find myself almost always forgetting to take something out of the freezer and/or lacking the inspiration to do actually cook. Ketchup and ranch dressing are official food groups in this house.
Mostly I just feel so totally strung out that I’m missing these days of my children’s lives. Everything just whizzes past and I have no energy to stop it. It’s a good thing we have a DVR.
5/3/09
Crazy Spring
Spring is such an up and down kind of time. We have 70 degree weather one day and then a string of rain and clouds. Gorgeous sunshine for a week and then a vicious snow storm out of the blue.
All of the erratic weather tends to do a real number on people’s moods. Mine included. I have a love/hate relationship with the weather generally. I love the sweet kiss of sunshine on my shoulders, but I hate being hot more than anything else in the world. I adore the way walking in the rain feels, but too much of it gives me serious cabin fever. I even sort of love the dastardly and abrupt spring snowstorms merely because they keep me guessing.
But I do have to admit that the crazy weather occasionally does a number on my mood. Less because the rain makes me depressed per say as that when it does rain and all I want to do is curl up on the couch with a movie, I have two children riddled with spring fever bouncing off the walls and whatever part of me they can wrap their hands around. So I find myself wishing for sunshine so I can kick us all outside.
I look forward to the bounty the summer holds (minus the heat). I love making a weekly tradition of going to the farmer’s market. I love going to the People’s Fair and The Renaissance Festival around my birthday. I love watching the children help my husband in the garden. I love having all the windows open at night so there is a fresh breeze that blows over my face while I’m falling asleep. I love planning meals around whatever happens to be in season and smelling gorgeous that week. I love watching the kids play in the sprinklers or the fountains. If it weren’t for the bloody heat, I’d want it to be summer all year long.
So I guess in a way that bearing through spring and its ups and downs is the price we pay for the splendor of summer and everything it offers. And it’s worth every up and every down. Except for the heat.
All of the erratic weather tends to do a real number on people’s moods. Mine included. I have a love/hate relationship with the weather generally. I love the sweet kiss of sunshine on my shoulders, but I hate being hot more than anything else in the world. I adore the way walking in the rain feels, but too much of it gives me serious cabin fever. I even sort of love the dastardly and abrupt spring snowstorms merely because they keep me guessing.
But I do have to admit that the crazy weather occasionally does a number on my mood. Less because the rain makes me depressed per say as that when it does rain and all I want to do is curl up on the couch with a movie, I have two children riddled with spring fever bouncing off the walls and whatever part of me they can wrap their hands around. So I find myself wishing for sunshine so I can kick us all outside.
I look forward to the bounty the summer holds (minus the heat). I love making a weekly tradition of going to the farmer’s market. I love going to the People’s Fair and The Renaissance Festival around my birthday. I love watching the children help my husband in the garden. I love having all the windows open at night so there is a fresh breeze that blows over my face while I’m falling asleep. I love planning meals around whatever happens to be in season and smelling gorgeous that week. I love watching the kids play in the sprinklers or the fountains. If it weren’t for the bloody heat, I’d want it to be summer all year long.
So I guess in a way that bearing through spring and its ups and downs is the price we pay for the splendor of summer and everything it offers. And it’s worth every up and every down. Except for the heat.
5/2/09
Sigh...
I have a ridiculously large crush on Hugh Jackman. I just adore everything about him. He’s just about one of the most charismatic actors ever. And he’s almost hurt your eyes gorgeous. To top it all off, he’s just over the top talented. He sings. He dances. He can play everything from Wolverine and Van Helsing to Curly and Leopold. Every single interview I’ve ever seen with him shows him to be just the most down to earth, kind and funny man. Seriously. It’s ridiculous the amount of twitterpation this guy stirs up in me.
My husband and I went to see his new movie, Wolverine today. The critics pretty much hated it across the board. Which means that they’ve hated his last two movies (they also raked Australia over the coals, which I loved because not only can Hugh Jackman do no wrong in my eyes, but neither can the director, Baz Luhrman), which is just not very nice. I always get worried when the reviews come back badly for a movie I really want to see. Which doesn’t really make any sense as I always go see the movies regardless of what the silly critics say about it.
Now granted, I’ve only been learning about comic books and the characters therein for a relatively limited time, so I don’t have the serious fan criteria that some do when a movie like this comes out. But I gotta say that I just loved it. The only thing I didn’t like about it was that it was too damn short. But other than that, I thought it was awesome. The effects were great. The action scenes were gasp inducing. Most of the characters were really well developed and nicely played. Liev Schrieber as Sabertooth was just flat amazing. I wish they had given Ryan Reynolds more to do as I’ve loved him since he was Berg on Two Guys, A Girl and A Pizza Place.
I had to come home and watch the first of the X-Men movies. So not only did I get a double dose of superheroes today, but also of Hugh Jackman. Now that’s a lovely way to spend a Saturday evening.
My husband and I went to see his new movie, Wolverine today. The critics pretty much hated it across the board. Which means that they’ve hated his last two movies (they also raked Australia over the coals, which I loved because not only can Hugh Jackman do no wrong in my eyes, but neither can the director, Baz Luhrman), which is just not very nice. I always get worried when the reviews come back badly for a movie I really want to see. Which doesn’t really make any sense as I always go see the movies regardless of what the silly critics say about it.
Now granted, I’ve only been learning about comic books and the characters therein for a relatively limited time, so I don’t have the serious fan criteria that some do when a movie like this comes out. But I gotta say that I just loved it. The only thing I didn’t like about it was that it was too damn short. But other than that, I thought it was awesome. The effects were great. The action scenes were gasp inducing. Most of the characters were really well developed and nicely played. Liev Schrieber as Sabertooth was just flat amazing. I wish they had given Ryan Reynolds more to do as I’ve loved him since he was Berg on Two Guys, A Girl and A Pizza Place.
I had to come home and watch the first of the X-Men movies. So not only did I get a double dose of superheroes today, but also of Hugh Jackman. Now that’s a lovely way to spend a Saturday evening.
5/1/09
Warm Fuzzy Theft
Would you like to know the fastest way to drive a mother who is already having a crappy day straight over the edge? Be a checkout clerk at the grocery store she has been going to for the past 7 years and make her feel like a horrible mother for letting her kids have those stupid “Paid” stickers they keep at the register. And then if you’re really feeling cruel (and/or stupid depending on how you look at it) make the kids feel bad about it too.
My children have been taking those stickers ever since they started carrying them. I don’t even notice it anymore it’s been so long. They only take one per kid, so it’s just not a big deal. But today, this woman saw them each take one, came around the counter and snatched them out of my kids’ hands with a rueful look in my direction and said, “I’m sorry, but these are all I have left so could you please control your children?” Seriously. Seriously?!?!?
And I was so completely taken off guard that I didn’t take her to task for it. And I should have. I should have had her call her manager over and put into perspective for each of them that they were just stickers for fuck’s sake and how they go about treating their loyal customers. Not to mention how wrong it is to snatch things out of children’s hands.
Instead I walked out of the store with tears in my eyes. Because not two minutes before all of this a really nice woman had let me cut in front of her in line. Because she could see I was at my wit’s end and just needed someone to give me a break. So I was all full of warm fuzzies from her kindness and then this stupid bitch of a check out woman not only snatched stickers from my children, but snatched that warm fuzzy from me too.
So now? Now I’d really like to drive back there and give her a piece of my mind. But instead I’ll just bash her here. She was mean. And not pretty. And she had stinky breath.
My children have been taking those stickers ever since they started carrying them. I don’t even notice it anymore it’s been so long. They only take one per kid, so it’s just not a big deal. But today, this woman saw them each take one, came around the counter and snatched them out of my kids’ hands with a rueful look in my direction and said, “I’m sorry, but these are all I have left so could you please control your children?” Seriously. Seriously?!?!?
And I was so completely taken off guard that I didn’t take her to task for it. And I should have. I should have had her call her manager over and put into perspective for each of them that they were just stickers for fuck’s sake and how they go about treating their loyal customers. Not to mention how wrong it is to snatch things out of children’s hands.
Instead I walked out of the store with tears in my eyes. Because not two minutes before all of this a really nice woman had let me cut in front of her in line. Because she could see I was at my wit’s end and just needed someone to give me a break. So I was all full of warm fuzzies from her kindness and then this stupid bitch of a check out woman not only snatched stickers from my children, but snatched that warm fuzzy from me too.
So now? Now I’d really like to drive back there and give her a piece of my mind. But instead I’ll just bash her here. She was mean. And not pretty. And she had stinky breath.
4/30/09
Stress
The Boy and I have been bouncing off each other like pinballs the past couple of days. I don’t know what’s going on. Other than we each have a fair amount of stress rattling around in our respective heads.
Kindergarten is almost over for him. And his reading was retested today. The good news is that he jumped a huge amount in the testing – he’s pretty much evened the score with the rest of his class. So that is great news for the prospect of first grade. The bad news is that his ability to deal with stress is limited. Mostly because he’s only 5 ½ and also because he is just about the most sensitive boy his age I’ve ever met. So the classroom rules have been tightened as of late to prepare the students for entry into first grade. The expectations have risen. He was in his first school play today (and it was so totally adorable!) and he had a hard time staying focused, so was constantly being redirected. And he’s playing soccer, which he loves but is just one more thing on his plate. And he’s still trying to figure out his own social life I think. We just discovered that one of his classmates lives directly across the street from us, so he’s been utterly obsessed with playing with this boy Every. Single. Day. Which is hard for everyone.
Add to that the inherent stress of everything that just happened with The Girl, my ongoing fears about our financial situation and the stress of trying to plan summer activities with an extremely limited budget and we start bouncing.
I have to remind myself that even though he’s smart and creative and funny and often times wise beyond his years that his plate is still in proportion with his age. His plate is only 5 ½ years old just like the rest of him. And his little arms can only balance and carry so much on that plate.
What I have yet to figure out however, is how to teach him to not let that stress define him. That’s a lesson we could both get a lot of mileage out of.
Kindergarten is almost over for him. And his reading was retested today. The good news is that he jumped a huge amount in the testing – he’s pretty much evened the score with the rest of his class. So that is great news for the prospect of first grade. The bad news is that his ability to deal with stress is limited. Mostly because he’s only 5 ½ and also because he is just about the most sensitive boy his age I’ve ever met. So the classroom rules have been tightened as of late to prepare the students for entry into first grade. The expectations have risen. He was in his first school play today (and it was so totally adorable!) and he had a hard time staying focused, so was constantly being redirected. And he’s playing soccer, which he loves but is just one more thing on his plate. And he’s still trying to figure out his own social life I think. We just discovered that one of his classmates lives directly across the street from us, so he’s been utterly obsessed with playing with this boy Every. Single. Day. Which is hard for everyone.
Add to that the inherent stress of everything that just happened with The Girl, my ongoing fears about our financial situation and the stress of trying to plan summer activities with an extremely limited budget and we start bouncing.
I have to remind myself that even though he’s smart and creative and funny and often times wise beyond his years that his plate is still in proportion with his age. His plate is only 5 ½ years old just like the rest of him. And his little arms can only balance and carry so much on that plate.
What I have yet to figure out however, is how to teach him to not let that stress define him. That’s a lesson we could both get a lot of mileage out of.
4/29/09
Baby Love
One of my girlfriends from college is having a baby shower this weekend. It’s her first baby and aside from it making my uterus hurt, she’s being so friggin’ cute I can hardly stand it. She lives in another state so she’s been sending out pictures of her burgeoning baby bump and ultra sound pictures from her burgeoning baby. It just thrills me that she is involving me and all our other girlfriends in this journey of hers.
I went to get her shower present the other day and I walked through Babies R Us with this sort of dazed half smile on my face the entire time. Thinking back to what my must-haves were when I was just bringing my babies home for the first time. And smiling even bigger when I thought about what I thought my must- haves were before the baby was born and what they were after. Looking at all the teeny tiny baby clothes and all the new schtuff they have for the wee ones these days. Not quite being able to remember what it felt like to not be a parent. And in the grand scheme of things, I’ve not been a mom for all that long. The Boy will only (!) be six in September.
I get so over the moon excited for my friends when they have babies. Whether it’s their first or their last, it’s just an event that makes me happy. I gush and I go overboard with presents and offer to help or lend advice or share birth stories. I stare at pictures for a wee bit longer than is probably natural. But the whole thing just makes me so dang happy!
And I think at the end of the day, maybe that’s what makes me such a good mom (most of the time). The fact that I just relish in this job. Even when it’s hard and both children are whining at me and I’m throwing threats at them like my sanity depended on it (which it often times does). I just love this and everything that goes with it. So forgive me R, if you’re reading this, I’ve only just begun…
I went to get her shower present the other day and I walked through Babies R Us with this sort of dazed half smile on my face the entire time. Thinking back to what my must-haves were when I was just bringing my babies home for the first time. And smiling even bigger when I thought about what I thought my must- haves were before the baby was born and what they were after. Looking at all the teeny tiny baby clothes and all the new schtuff they have for the wee ones these days. Not quite being able to remember what it felt like to not be a parent. And in the grand scheme of things, I’ve not been a mom for all that long. The Boy will only (!) be six in September.
I get so over the moon excited for my friends when they have babies. Whether it’s their first or their last, it’s just an event that makes me happy. I gush and I go overboard with presents and offer to help or lend advice or share birth stories. I stare at pictures for a wee bit longer than is probably natural. But the whole thing just makes me so dang happy!
And I think at the end of the day, maybe that’s what makes me such a good mom (most of the time). The fact that I just relish in this job. Even when it’s hard and both children are whining at me and I’m throwing threats at them like my sanity depended on it (which it often times does). I just love this and everything that goes with it. So forgive me R, if you’re reading this, I’ve only just begun…
4/28/09
Mur Mur
Wow I’m having a hard time writing lately. I’ve lost the rhythm I think. It’s just not there. So those of you who have kept reading, thank you! As I’m well aware that the writing has been shit and more than a little boring as of late. I think I’m just all blah. With everything with The Girl and crazy up and down weather and just some basic blah-ness overall, the writing mojo has left me momentarily.
So here’s some stream of consciousness based on the news I’m watching now. First? Glowing Beagles. Who the fuck thought that was a good idea? I mean seriously?!? These scientists actually got funded to spend time and money specifically breeding dogs that would glow red (yes red) in the dark. Not because the ability to glow red will mean that the dogs can talk or cure cancer or drive the scientists to work, but because they wanted to make them glow. Seriously. I’m tempted to take this opportunity to jump up on one of my favorite soap boxes, but I just don’t have the energy. They say the whole point was that if they were able to implant a specific gene into these animals then that would allow them to be successful implanting other genes. And I know that science works in baby steps. But seriously. Glowing red dogs. Funded. Maybe the first thing they’ll implant in further (funded) studies will be an anti-stupid gene. Now that would be a scientific breakthrough.
Also today, I finally got an interview. Yea!! Downside? They told me that the position only pays $30,000/year (for a full-time experienced and successful grant writer) and they were totally unwilling to work with me as far as scheduling goes. So the organization that I originally had thought was really progressive and very possibly on the cutting edge of community development turns out to be not quite as cool as I had hoped. So I turned down the interview. But at least I finally got one right? (Just nod and agree with me.)
So yeah. I think that’s about it for tonight. I’m tired and I go right back to the daily grind tomorrow. Good night!
So here’s some stream of consciousness based on the news I’m watching now. First? Glowing Beagles. Who the fuck thought that was a good idea? I mean seriously?!? These scientists actually got funded to spend time and money specifically breeding dogs that would glow red (yes red) in the dark. Not because the ability to glow red will mean that the dogs can talk or cure cancer or drive the scientists to work, but because they wanted to make them glow. Seriously. I’m tempted to take this opportunity to jump up on one of my favorite soap boxes, but I just don’t have the energy. They say the whole point was that if they were able to implant a specific gene into these animals then that would allow them to be successful implanting other genes. And I know that science works in baby steps. But seriously. Glowing red dogs. Funded. Maybe the first thing they’ll implant in further (funded) studies will be an anti-stupid gene. Now that would be a scientific breakthrough.
Also today, I finally got an interview. Yea!! Downside? They told me that the position only pays $30,000/year (for a full-time experienced and successful grant writer) and they were totally unwilling to work with me as far as scheduling goes. So the organization that I originally had thought was really progressive and very possibly on the cutting edge of community development turns out to be not quite as cool as I had hoped. So I turned down the interview. But at least I finally got one right? (Just nod and agree with me.)
So yeah. I think that’s about it for tonight. I’m tired and I go right back to the daily grind tomorrow. Good night!
4/27/09
Interview Questions
I have the tiniest nibble on a job. I applied for a Grant Writing position (which I’ve been doing for 9 years) with a very young, but also very cool and successful organization. They are doing a lot of the community development/empowerment work that is so near and dear to my heart but with a green/technological focus, which is also very cool. The only problem is that I’m really pretty much a newbie when it comes to the green marketplace. I mean it’s a priority in my life to be sure and I’m trying to learn more all the time, but I just haven’t had the time to really research the whole wind/solar/nuclear/biofuel debates or how those debates are affecting our economy as a nation. I’m much more on the ground level with all of this. Figuring out first what we can do as a family to leave less of a foot print than I am well-versed in it as a social action issue.
So there is part of me saying I’ve no business pursuing this job. Then the other part of me, that knows how good I am and how quickly I learn, tells me to leave that bullshit thought process at the curb and just be who I am.
They sent me a first interview via an email questionnaire they’d like for me to fill out this morning. So that’s what I’ve been working on. And I’m taking a break because I’m stuck. Stuck on the first question – Please, tell us a bit about yourself. I hate that fucking question. I mean seriously, how am I supposed to answer it?! Do I tell them about myself on a personal level? Professional level only? A bit of both? How I came to be where I am today? My goals and aspirations? At least in a face to face interview I can clarify with them what they’re looking for before I open my big mouth, but with this I just have to take a swing for the fences and hope that they aren’t going to roll their eyes when they read it.
I think I’ll start with the last question and work my way up.
So there is part of me saying I’ve no business pursuing this job. Then the other part of me, that knows how good I am and how quickly I learn, tells me to leave that bullshit thought process at the curb and just be who I am.
They sent me a first interview via an email questionnaire they’d like for me to fill out this morning. So that’s what I’ve been working on. And I’m taking a break because I’m stuck. Stuck on the first question – Please, tell us a bit about yourself. I hate that fucking question. I mean seriously, how am I supposed to answer it?! Do I tell them about myself on a personal level? Professional level only? A bit of both? How I came to be where I am today? My goals and aspirations? At least in a face to face interview I can clarify with them what they’re looking for before I open my big mouth, but with this I just have to take a swing for the fences and hope that they aren’t going to roll their eyes when they read it.
I think I’ll start with the last question and work my way up.
4/26/09
Just a Flirty Girl
I have always been a bit of a flirt. For better or for worse, it’s always just been a piece of my personality. Much like that 7 year old on the playground I suppose. If I’m flirting, it’s because I’m interested in you in one way or another, and jibing with word-play and body language is usually my way of conveying that.
Whether it’s me playing the tough girl and issuing challenges for who can out drink the other or win some sort of metaphorical arm wrestling match. Or me playing the smart girl engaging in a duel of words. Or me trying to invite you to take a look at the world through my eyes by asking for advice or shyly being curious about your everyday interests, “So what kind of music is in your car right now?”
I know, it all sounds a wee bit childish doesn’t it? I could plead only child syndrome. It explains just about everything. My lack of experience connecting with people in day to day situations. My awkwardness in social situations. My lack of finesse in navigating interpersonal relationships. Although I know other only children who don’t suffer from the same ineptitude. But ultimately I think it’s just how I figured out how to share myself with people.
It’s also a way for me to let go a bit. To free that playful side of me that I usually keep tethered. When I let myself off the leash though, I wake up the next morning and dissect everything that I said and did. Inevitably I find something that was just a bit too daring and end up burying my head in my pillow willing my remembrance to be wrong. I didn’t really make that big an ass of myself. Did I?
Whether I did or not isn’t up to me of course. It’s all about perception. And regardless of how much work I do or how much confidence I gain, my perspective will always be off when it comes to evaluating my own actions. My biggest hope is that there will come a day when I can just shrug it off and flirt my way through another day.
Whether it’s me playing the tough girl and issuing challenges for who can out drink the other or win some sort of metaphorical arm wrestling match. Or me playing the smart girl engaging in a duel of words. Or me trying to invite you to take a look at the world through my eyes by asking for advice or shyly being curious about your everyday interests, “So what kind of music is in your car right now?”
I know, it all sounds a wee bit childish doesn’t it? I could plead only child syndrome. It explains just about everything. My lack of experience connecting with people in day to day situations. My awkwardness in social situations. My lack of finesse in navigating interpersonal relationships. Although I know other only children who don’t suffer from the same ineptitude. But ultimately I think it’s just how I figured out how to share myself with people.
It’s also a way for me to let go a bit. To free that playful side of me that I usually keep tethered. When I let myself off the leash though, I wake up the next morning and dissect everything that I said and did. Inevitably I find something that was just a bit too daring and end up burying my head in my pillow willing my remembrance to be wrong. I didn’t really make that big an ass of myself. Did I?
Whether I did or not isn’t up to me of course. It’s all about perception. And regardless of how much work I do or how much confidence I gain, my perspective will always be off when it comes to evaluating my own actions. My biggest hope is that there will come a day when I can just shrug it off and flirt my way through another day.
4/25/09
Diva-tude
“Coyotes way freak me out.” – The Girl
She said this tonight while we were watching The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for a bit. She said this in reference to the assassin wolves that are set out to find Peter, Edmund, Susan and Lucy. And I totally get that. That they’d freak her out. They freak me out. Mostly because they’re talking. And we switched the channel after that declaration.
The things that come out of that girl’s mouth will never cease to amaze me. And the attitude with which she says those things serve to amaze me further. I kind of always thought those moms of 3 to 6 or 7 year olds were sort of exaggerating when they said things like “Oh yes, she’s 5 going on 12” with a roll of the eyes and exhausted smile. But now I get it. I really, really get it.
The Girl is a full on diva in the making. She loves to have her nails painted. She has very specific treasures that she knows exactly where they are at all times. She almost always has a purse with her full of select treasures. She adorns herself with thrift store necklaces and bracelets at all times. We usually have to bribe her in some way to get them off of her when she goes to bed as I have lovely visions of her strangling herself to death by Mardi Gras beads in the middle of the night.
And the strangest thing about all of this diva-tude is that it came out of nowhere. This time last year she was running around dirty and with skinned knees. She did everything in her power to keep up with her brother and to play all of his games at his pace.
I am so NOT a day-to-day diva that I’ve little to no idea what to do with her at this point. Do I get her a princess dress for her birthday or summer soccer camp (she seems to be innately talented with soccer)? I don’t know. And maybe I never will. I just hope her girl power comes from a place of strength as well as beauty.
She said this tonight while we were watching The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for a bit. She said this in reference to the assassin wolves that are set out to find Peter, Edmund, Susan and Lucy. And I totally get that. That they’d freak her out. They freak me out. Mostly because they’re talking. And we switched the channel after that declaration.
The things that come out of that girl’s mouth will never cease to amaze me. And the attitude with which she says those things serve to amaze me further. I kind of always thought those moms of 3 to 6 or 7 year olds were sort of exaggerating when they said things like “Oh yes, she’s 5 going on 12” with a roll of the eyes and exhausted smile. But now I get it. I really, really get it.
The Girl is a full on diva in the making. She loves to have her nails painted. She has very specific treasures that she knows exactly where they are at all times. She almost always has a purse with her full of select treasures. She adorns herself with thrift store necklaces and bracelets at all times. We usually have to bribe her in some way to get them off of her when she goes to bed as I have lovely visions of her strangling herself to death by Mardi Gras beads in the middle of the night.
And the strangest thing about all of this diva-tude is that it came out of nowhere. This time last year she was running around dirty and with skinned knees. She did everything in her power to keep up with her brother and to play all of his games at his pace.
I am so NOT a day-to-day diva that I’ve little to no idea what to do with her at this point. Do I get her a princess dress for her birthday or summer soccer camp (she seems to be innately talented with soccer)? I don’t know. And maybe I never will. I just hope her girl power comes from a place of strength as well as beauty.
4/24/09
Foodie
I am a foodie at heart. I just flat love really good food. I love to cook for the people I love. I love to eat it. I love to research it. I love to look at recipes. I love to read restaurant reviews. I love to watch the food channel. I love to take copious mental notes of all the places I want to eat at in all the different cities I want to go.
I was supposed to be in Las Vegas tonight, most likely eating at Michael Mina’s SeaBlue restaurant. They do everything a Mediterranean twist. They have an entire section of the menu devoted to tajine cooking. They mostly use a grill to cook the seafood. And in my research I found that it was just gorgeous inside – like eating in the ocean. I was looking forward to that dinner.
And then tomorrow I was going to go have sushi (solo while my mom was in her conference) at Masaharu Morimoto’s Sushi Roku. I have been watching Morimoto on Iron Chef for years. Ever since The Food Network first debuted the original Japanese version of the show, I’ve wanted to eat this man’s food. He’s just so gloriously creative within the bounds of traditional Japanese cuisine. I was really looking forward to that lunch.
Sunday morning we were going to go the Sunday champagne brunch at The Bellagio. I’ve seen this brunch buffet featured on The Food Channel, in Gourmet Magazine and referred to all over the place. The spread they lay out at this sucker probably would have rendered me not only speechless but unable to eat anything else the rest of the day. But we would have made room to have dinner at Rick Moonen’s RM Seafood Restaurant. Rick Moonen is not only a brilliant chef but also completely committed to only working with sustainable, impeccably fresh and in season ingredients.
All of this food is what I was most looking forward to about this trip. But it will all still be there for the next time I can swing a Vegas getaway. And probably by then I’ll have a few more must eats to add to the list.
I was supposed to be in Las Vegas tonight, most likely eating at Michael Mina’s SeaBlue restaurant. They do everything a Mediterranean twist. They have an entire section of the menu devoted to tajine cooking. They mostly use a grill to cook the seafood. And in my research I found that it was just gorgeous inside – like eating in the ocean. I was looking forward to that dinner.
And then tomorrow I was going to go have sushi (solo while my mom was in her conference) at Masaharu Morimoto’s Sushi Roku. I have been watching Morimoto on Iron Chef for years. Ever since The Food Network first debuted the original Japanese version of the show, I’ve wanted to eat this man’s food. He’s just so gloriously creative within the bounds of traditional Japanese cuisine. I was really looking forward to that lunch.
Sunday morning we were going to go the Sunday champagne brunch at The Bellagio. I’ve seen this brunch buffet featured on The Food Channel, in Gourmet Magazine and referred to all over the place. The spread they lay out at this sucker probably would have rendered me not only speechless but unable to eat anything else the rest of the day. But we would have made room to have dinner at Rick Moonen’s RM Seafood Restaurant. Rick Moonen is not only a brilliant chef but also completely committed to only working with sustainable, impeccably fresh and in season ingredients.
All of this food is what I was most looking forward to about this trip. But it will all still be there for the next time I can swing a Vegas getaway. And probably by then I’ll have a few more must eats to add to the list.
4/23/09
Trauma
Here’s the strange thing about trauma. The after effects of it sneak up on you and jump on your back in the strangest of ways and when you least expect it.
One of the strangest things about this whole thing with The Girl is for the first time as a mother when something horrible happened to one of my children I actually don’t blame myself. Which in and of itself is strange. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t allow her to hurt herself. It wasn’t that I wasn’t paying close enough attention or not watching her closely enough. This thing came out of nowhere. There was no way to prevent or foretell a febrile seizure. I followed my instincts and called 911 the minute I thought something was wrong. I stayed with her the entire time at the hospital (except for about 2 hours when I went home to get clean clothes). I asked so many questions of the doctors and nurses I thought they might gag me. I did everything right. And I have complete confidence in that, so there is no guilt.
But there is definitely fear. And some sort of post traumatic stress or something. Because the first time I walked back into our family room I panicked. I started sobbing when I looked at the place on the floor where I laid her when she was seizing. Every time I don’t have my eyes on her I have to fight the urge to find her immediately and make sure she’s ok. Even when she is in my direct eye line I have these waves of panic come over me out of nowhere.
Going back to the hospital today to get her follow up chest x-ray to check up on the pneumonia was a bit on the terrifying side for me. Having the x-ray tech ask me what had been happening and having me rattle off like a practiced pro “She had a Simple Tonic Clonic Febrile Seizure most likely caused by severe pneumonia,” was just surreal.
But as the doctor and I agreed today, as soon as I can get over the trauma, we can get everything back to normal.
One of the strangest things about this whole thing with The Girl is for the first time as a mother when something horrible happened to one of my children I actually don’t blame myself. Which in and of itself is strange. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t allow her to hurt herself. It wasn’t that I wasn’t paying close enough attention or not watching her closely enough. This thing came out of nowhere. There was no way to prevent or foretell a febrile seizure. I followed my instincts and called 911 the minute I thought something was wrong. I stayed with her the entire time at the hospital (except for about 2 hours when I went home to get clean clothes). I asked so many questions of the doctors and nurses I thought they might gag me. I did everything right. And I have complete confidence in that, so there is no guilt.
But there is definitely fear. And some sort of post traumatic stress or something. Because the first time I walked back into our family room I panicked. I started sobbing when I looked at the place on the floor where I laid her when she was seizing. Every time I don’t have my eyes on her I have to fight the urge to find her immediately and make sure she’s ok. Even when she is in my direct eye line I have these waves of panic come over me out of nowhere.
Going back to the hospital today to get her follow up chest x-ray to check up on the pneumonia was a bit on the terrifying side for me. Having the x-ray tech ask me what had been happening and having me rattle off like a practiced pro “She had a Simple Tonic Clonic Febrile Seizure most likely caused by severe pneumonia,” was just surreal.
But as the doctor and I agreed today, as soon as I can get over the trauma, we can get everything back to normal.
4/22/09
The Wall
I hit a wall of sorts yesterday. Through most of this ordeal with The Girl, I’ve been relatively focused, calm and undramatic. But yesterday it all just sort of sunk in. And the hysteria I worked so hard to keep at bay and bury started to rear its ugly head. I started to have this overwhelming sense of panic come at me from all directions and with no notice. Panic at the thought of leaving her, even just to leave the room. Panic at the thought of waking up one morning and finding her blue and lifeless in her bed after having another seizure in the middle of night where no one could hear her.
And I know that I always am exactly where I am supposed to be. Even when, especially when, it’s hard to be there. But this kind of fear is unlike anything I’ve ever tackled before. The quality of this fear makes it hard to breathe and function. It makes me want to put The Girl and me in a bubble and just stay there. It makes me not trust anyone else to take care of her but me. It makes me not trust her little body to sustain her.
I cannot get her fever to break. She’s had this fever, to varying degrees since Saturday around lunch and I cannot get it to break. And that in and of itself is nerve wracking and terrifying.
I was starting to carve a new path for myself. Working on starting a new foundation, working on going back to work so that I can help sustain my family and my sanity, working on being more true to who I am.
And now I feel paralyzed again. By fear and uncertainty and by the fact that anytime I try to do anything that would even remotely take me away from my children, the universe pulls the rug out from underneath me and puts me right back into full on mommy mode. And I cannot even begin to describe the guilt that comes even having these thoughts. My daughter just had a seizure and I’m whining about not being able to get a job?! Seriously…
And I know that I always am exactly where I am supposed to be. Even when, especially when, it’s hard to be there. But this kind of fear is unlike anything I’ve ever tackled before. The quality of this fear makes it hard to breathe and function. It makes me want to put The Girl and me in a bubble and just stay there. It makes me not trust anyone else to take care of her but me. It makes me not trust her little body to sustain her.
I cannot get her fever to break. She’s had this fever, to varying degrees since Saturday around lunch and I cannot get it to break. And that in and of itself is nerve wracking and terrifying.
I was starting to carve a new path for myself. Working on starting a new foundation, working on going back to work so that I can help sustain my family and my sanity, working on being more true to who I am.
And now I feel paralyzed again. By fear and uncertainty and by the fact that anytime I try to do anything that would even remotely take me away from my children, the universe pulls the rug out from underneath me and puts me right back into full on mommy mode. And I cannot even begin to describe the guilt that comes even having these thoughts. My daughter just had a seizure and I’m whining about not being able to get a job?! Seriously…
4/20/09 - The Hospital
I did not sleep at all last night. I alternated rolling around in this folded flat sorry excuse for a recliner and pacing the halls of the pediatric floor. I read for a bit. Nurses kept walking past me asking me if there was anything they could get me. A dear friend took a few minutes away from his party all night indulgence to text back and forth with me and get my mind off my surroundings. But I did not sleep. And the nurses woke up The Girl very, very early to take her vitals and mess with her IV.
We spent most of yesterday in the ER doing tests and then waiting for the corresponding results. Almost none of which were helpful. Which is always a double edged sword. I mean I would never want anything to be wrong with my daughter, but I’d love to know what the hell happened in her little body to bring on the trauma of yesterday. Then we were admitted for observation and more tests.
The Girl, for her part, has been so sweet, patient and wonderful that she has made all the nurses and doctors fall completely in love with her.
She had a chest x-ray this morning and the x-ray tech gave her this sweet little gardening apron as her reward for being so good. She hasn’t taken it off yet and it looks just adorable on top of her little hospital gown.
Here’s what we know thus far: she had what’s called a Simple Tonic Clonic Febrile Seizure and has a pretty bad case of pneumonia. It’s termed a “simple” seizure purely because it was her first seizure and it lasted for less than 15 minutes. And it was caused by a sharp and fast rise in her body temperature. She should outgrow these kinds of seizures by the time she’s 6-7 and it does not necessarily predispose her to full-blown epilepsy. For all we know, she may never have another seizure again.
But the next 3 or so years will hold an extra level of fever vigilance for us. And me trying to relearn how to trust her body to sustain her life.
We spent most of yesterday in the ER doing tests and then waiting for the corresponding results. Almost none of which were helpful. Which is always a double edged sword. I mean I would never want anything to be wrong with my daughter, but I’d love to know what the hell happened in her little body to bring on the trauma of yesterday. Then we were admitted for observation and more tests.
The Girl, for her part, has been so sweet, patient and wonderful that she has made all the nurses and doctors fall completely in love with her.
She had a chest x-ray this morning and the x-ray tech gave her this sweet little gardening apron as her reward for being so good. She hasn’t taken it off yet and it looks just adorable on top of her little hospital gown.
Here’s what we know thus far: she had what’s called a Simple Tonic Clonic Febrile Seizure and has a pretty bad case of pneumonia. It’s termed a “simple” seizure purely because it was her first seizure and it lasted for less than 15 minutes. And it was caused by a sharp and fast rise in her body temperature. She should outgrow these kinds of seizures by the time she’s 6-7 and it does not necessarily predispose her to full-blown epilepsy. For all we know, she may never have another seizure again.
But the next 3 or so years will hold an extra level of fever vigilance for us. And me trying to relearn how to trust her body to sustain her life.
4/19/09 - Scariest Day of my Life
“She’s gone. Oh my god, my baby is gone. How is this happening?!? Why is this happening? Stuff like this just doesn’t happen to me, why is this happening?”
These were the predominant thoughts in my head this afternoon as I watched The Girl wake up from a totally normal nap a screaming banshee with a temp of 103.6. Then as I watched her start acting like she was drunk. And then as I watched her try to talk to me but failing. As I watched her head jerk all the way to the right and her eyes slowly move as far right as possible. As her entire little body went rigid in my arms. As I watched my daughter simply disappear. As I frantically tried to get her to look at me or talk to me while I was trying to tell the 911 dispatcher what was wrong. As I watched her stiff body suddenly collapse with her no longer being able to hold up her head and then as she started to convulse. As the 911 dispatcher told me to lay her on the floor on her side so that she didn’t choke and/or hurt herself while she was seizing.
For about 12 minutes I laid on the floor next to her, stroking her sweaty head, my voice wracked with sobs that I could not stop. Waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Waiting for my baby girl to find her way back to me. Part of me surrendering to the fear and succumbing to hysterics, begging for help. The other part of surrendering to peace and wanting her to know that if she needed to go that it was ok and she was loved.
She finally stopped convulsing and then just slipped into unconsciousness. The paramedics were able to rouse her a bit with oxygen and she threw up all over both of us as I was carrying her to the ambulance. Then she was out again. She came back after we’d been at the hospital for almost an hour. She called me mama again as I crawled into the hospital bed next to her and waited for someone to tell me what happened.
These were the predominant thoughts in my head this afternoon as I watched The Girl wake up from a totally normal nap a screaming banshee with a temp of 103.6. Then as I watched her start acting like she was drunk. And then as I watched her try to talk to me but failing. As I watched her head jerk all the way to the right and her eyes slowly move as far right as possible. As her entire little body went rigid in my arms. As I watched my daughter simply disappear. As I frantically tried to get her to look at me or talk to me while I was trying to tell the 911 dispatcher what was wrong. As I watched her stiff body suddenly collapse with her no longer being able to hold up her head and then as she started to convulse. As the 911 dispatcher told me to lay her on the floor on her side so that she didn’t choke and/or hurt herself while she was seizing.
For about 12 minutes I laid on the floor next to her, stroking her sweaty head, my voice wracked with sobs that I could not stop. Waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Waiting for my baby girl to find her way back to me. Part of me surrendering to the fear and succumbing to hysterics, begging for help. The other part of surrendering to peace and wanting her to know that if she needed to go that it was ok and she was loved.
She finally stopped convulsing and then just slipped into unconsciousness. The paramedics were able to rouse her a bit with oxygen and she threw up all over both of us as I was carrying her to the ambulance. Then she was out again. She came back after we’d been at the hospital for almost an hour. She called me mama again as I crawled into the hospital bed next to her and waited for someone to tell me what happened.
4/21/09
Breezy
I always kind of thought that should one of my children ever have some major health issue that required constant monitoring and/or vigilance, that I would be one of the breezy, cool moms who was able to maintain the required level of vigilance without restraining their free will. But after watching The Girl have a 12-minute long Tonic Clonic seizure on Saturday, I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever be able to be breezy about her and fevers again.
It was a febrile seizure, which apparently are caused by an incredibly fast rise in body temperature. She went down for a nap totally normal then she woke up 90 minutes later with a relatively high fever and within 20 minutes of waking up was seizing and I was calling 911.
I’ve been writing quite a bit in my head over the last few days, in the ambulance, in the hospital pacing the pediatric floor at 2am, watching the nurses and doctors fuss over and poke at The Girl much to her dismay. So I’ll fill in the last few days throughout today and tomorrow most likely as I’m able to sift through all of that writing and try to pull out the coherent thoughts and separate it from the absolute hysteria and terror.
The last couple of weeks have just totally fucked my track record with this blog. Between all the travelling, bumpy re-entry from that travelling and now trauma with The Girl, April has not been a good month for following through with this project. But hopefully I’ll be able to get back into a routine of sorts and get back to writing and posting every day.
Because of everything going on with The Girl, I will obviously not be going to Vegas with my mom this weekend (sadness!!! No Masaharu Morimoto sushi for me…). So that will at least remove one speed bump to keeping up with this project. Vegas will still be there when she is better and we aren’t staring down the impending barrel of gigantic medical bills. Maybe I’ll just go to my favorite local sushi place. It won’t be the same, but hopefully I’ll be able to muster a breezy attitude.
It was a febrile seizure, which apparently are caused by an incredibly fast rise in body temperature. She went down for a nap totally normal then she woke up 90 minutes later with a relatively high fever and within 20 minutes of waking up was seizing and I was calling 911.
I’ve been writing quite a bit in my head over the last few days, in the ambulance, in the hospital pacing the pediatric floor at 2am, watching the nurses and doctors fuss over and poke at The Girl much to her dismay. So I’ll fill in the last few days throughout today and tomorrow most likely as I’m able to sift through all of that writing and try to pull out the coherent thoughts and separate it from the absolute hysteria and terror.
The last couple of weeks have just totally fucked my track record with this blog. Between all the travelling, bumpy re-entry from that travelling and now trauma with The Girl, April has not been a good month for following through with this project. But hopefully I’ll be able to get back into a routine of sorts and get back to writing and posting every day.
Because of everything going on with The Girl, I will obviously not be going to Vegas with my mom this weekend (sadness!!! No Masaharu Morimoto sushi for me…). So that will at least remove one speed bump to keeping up with this project. Vegas will still be there when she is better and we aren’t staring down the impending barrel of gigantic medical bills. Maybe I’ll just go to my favorite local sushi place. It won’t be the same, but hopefully I’ll be able to muster a breezy attitude.
4/18/09
Sugar High
Sugar is evil. Easter was last weekend so we, of course, are totally overrun with candy. And we made the mistake of leaving the Easter Baskets out where the children could find them when they woke up at o’dark thirty. I think we just honestly didn’t think that they would sneak downstairs and quietly gorge themselves on chocolate and jelly beans before the sun was up. Oh what naïve parents we are! Because that is exactly what they did. For about four days before we caught on.
I have spent all week wondering that hell is wrong with my children. I mean I knew that The Girl was almost three and since three is just about the worst thing I’ve experienced thus far, I wasn’t too shocked when all she did all week was whine and cry and throw temper tantrums and be bossy and obstinate. But The Boy? I’ve been totally bowled over by his behavior the last week or so. Outright not listening, making really bad choices and just in general being a pain in my ass. I’ve just been at a complete and total loss with his behavior. But now that I know about the pre-dawn candy raids, it all makes sense.
They have both totally been sugar high all week. Of course they couldn’t concentrate or listen or make rational choices. I mean aside from the face that they are almost 3 and 5 ½, they are usually really very good at thinking before they act. They are sweet and considerate and smart, so much so in fact that I often forget that they are really still just babies. But even putting down my heightened expectations, this week was just above and beyond the bounds of my tolerance.
But now that we’ve caught on, hopefully the overdose of sugar will get purged from their system and things will go back to normal (if that’s possible) in no time. Because I really love and enjoy my kiddos. So it’s not such a fun thing to spend an entire week contemplating how to box them up and sneak them onto a FedEx truck without getting caught and/or reported for child abuse and/or neglect.
I have spent all week wondering that hell is wrong with my children. I mean I knew that The Girl was almost three and since three is just about the worst thing I’ve experienced thus far, I wasn’t too shocked when all she did all week was whine and cry and throw temper tantrums and be bossy and obstinate. But The Boy? I’ve been totally bowled over by his behavior the last week or so. Outright not listening, making really bad choices and just in general being a pain in my ass. I’ve just been at a complete and total loss with his behavior. But now that I know about the pre-dawn candy raids, it all makes sense.
They have both totally been sugar high all week. Of course they couldn’t concentrate or listen or make rational choices. I mean aside from the face that they are almost 3 and 5 ½, they are usually really very good at thinking before they act. They are sweet and considerate and smart, so much so in fact that I often forget that they are really still just babies. But even putting down my heightened expectations, this week was just above and beyond the bounds of my tolerance.
But now that we’ve caught on, hopefully the overdose of sugar will get purged from their system and things will go back to normal (if that’s possible) in no time. Because I really love and enjoy my kiddos. So it’s not such a fun thing to spend an entire week contemplating how to box them up and sneak them onto a FedEx truck without getting caught and/or reported for child abuse and/or neglect.
4/17/09 - Vegas Baby
***I actually wrote this yesterday and then plum forgot to post it, sorry!!!***
My life of leisure is continuing. My mom has a conference in Las Vegas next weekend and she’s demanded that I join her. I said, twist my arm, hell yes I’m going. So I spent all day doing research. We’re going to stay an extra night after the conference, so I had find a hotel room in a fun place but for a reasonable amount of money since the only thing hotel rooms are used for in Vegas is sleeping (especially when you’re there with your mother). We ended up choosing the MGM Grand because the last time I was there I remembered thinking that I wanted to stay there the next time I came. And because it’s right smack dab in the middle of the strip. The room rates were reasonable and if for some reason we decided we didn’t want to leave the hotel there would be so much to do there we wouldn’t really miss the light of day.
And I spent some time researching shows, seeing what was going on and who was playing while we were going to be there. I immediately checked The House of Blues as we totally scored the last time and got to see Tommy Lee. And this time, Reverend Horton Heat will be playing which I would totally be into, but my mom not so much. Bon Jovi is playing the Hard Rock Hotel while we’re there as well, and as much as my inner tween would love to see him, I’m just not ready to spent money on those concert tickets.
So in the end we decided to allot the majority of our fun money to food. Making reservations at Masaharu Morimoto’s Sushi Roku, Rick Moonen’s RM Seafood Restaurant, Michael Mina’s SeaBlue and Hubert Keller’s Fleur de Lys. My mouth is watering just typing all of that. I spent much of the afternoon pouring over lists of restaurants and restaurant reviews to find the ones that I absolutely could not leave without trying. The only one really missing from the list is Joel Robuchon, but that is entirely outside of my budget.
It’s a good thing there will be a treadmill close at hand.
My life of leisure is continuing. My mom has a conference in Las Vegas next weekend and she’s demanded that I join her. I said, twist my arm, hell yes I’m going. So I spent all day doing research. We’re going to stay an extra night after the conference, so I had find a hotel room in a fun place but for a reasonable amount of money since the only thing hotel rooms are used for in Vegas is sleeping (especially when you’re there with your mother). We ended up choosing the MGM Grand because the last time I was there I remembered thinking that I wanted to stay there the next time I came. And because it’s right smack dab in the middle of the strip. The room rates were reasonable and if for some reason we decided we didn’t want to leave the hotel there would be so much to do there we wouldn’t really miss the light of day.
And I spent some time researching shows, seeing what was going on and who was playing while we were going to be there. I immediately checked The House of Blues as we totally scored the last time and got to see Tommy Lee. And this time, Reverend Horton Heat will be playing which I would totally be into, but my mom not so much. Bon Jovi is playing the Hard Rock Hotel while we’re there as well, and as much as my inner tween would love to see him, I’m just not ready to spent money on those concert tickets.
So in the end we decided to allot the majority of our fun money to food. Making reservations at Masaharu Morimoto’s Sushi Roku, Rick Moonen’s RM Seafood Restaurant, Michael Mina’s SeaBlue and Hubert Keller’s Fleur de Lys. My mouth is watering just typing all of that. I spent much of the afternoon pouring over lists of restaurants and restaurant reviews to find the ones that I absolutely could not leave without trying. The only one really missing from the list is Joel Robuchon, but that is entirely outside of my budget.
It’s a good thing there will be a treadmill close at hand.
4/16/09
Status Update
Sorry to be posting so late in the day, but this has been an up and down, crazy kind of week. Full of visits from my mom (whom I didn’t want to leave), migraines that ate up two days, trying to work while bouncing off of my goofy kids, trying to brainstorm and name this foundation, feeling utterly and completely daunted at the thought of starting this foundation by myself, reconnecting with old friends who know and love me still after all these years and trying to squeeze in some soul searching and growth into the cracks.
The Girl is almost three. Man do I hate three. Three gets under my skin like nothing else. It’s all whiny and amorphous. Full of temper tantrums and a sudden swinging from loving superheroes and trucks to all things princess and pink. What am I supposed to do with pink?!? I’ve no idea what to do with a girly girl. So this little girl that has been like my heart walking around outside my body for the past almost three years is now a bit of a stranger and that is hard to take. It happened to me with The Boy too, but it’s still taken me a wee bit off guard. And I know it won’t be the last time for either of them. Namely when puberty hits, I know they’ll be body snatched. Hopefully I’ll be more prepared by then. Have a contingency plan or an emergency kit or something in place. Or maybe just a really stiff martini.
And I’m finding myself in a general dearth of day dreaming. My best writing seems to come from those moments when everything just turns off and I find myself somewhere else, writing furiously fast in my head. And there has been none of that this past week. I think I’ve let the pendulum swing too far the other way. Going from being totally immersed in some fairytale to trying to just be present, I’ve gone all the way to stripping the fun, texture and glee from the moments. So once again, I am struggling for balance. To be present and authentic in every moment. Wish me luck.
The Girl is almost three. Man do I hate three. Three gets under my skin like nothing else. It’s all whiny and amorphous. Full of temper tantrums and a sudden swinging from loving superheroes and trucks to all things princess and pink. What am I supposed to do with pink?!? I’ve no idea what to do with a girly girl. So this little girl that has been like my heart walking around outside my body for the past almost three years is now a bit of a stranger and that is hard to take. It happened to me with The Boy too, but it’s still taken me a wee bit off guard. And I know it won’t be the last time for either of them. Namely when puberty hits, I know they’ll be body snatched. Hopefully I’ll be more prepared by then. Have a contingency plan or an emergency kit or something in place. Or maybe just a really stiff martini.
And I’m finding myself in a general dearth of day dreaming. My best writing seems to come from those moments when everything just turns off and I find myself somewhere else, writing furiously fast in my head. And there has been none of that this past week. I think I’ve let the pendulum swing too far the other way. Going from being totally immersed in some fairytale to trying to just be present, I’ve gone all the way to stripping the fun, texture and glee from the moments. So once again, I am struggling for balance. To be present and authentic in every moment. Wish me luck.
4/15/09
Keeping it in the Family
Some of my earliest memories about my grandfather are of him pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the house I grew up in. It was ritual for him whenever he had a migraine. Which was often enough to make those pacing moments integral in my childhood memory of him. He would just pace the migraines out. Engaged in an all out battle of wills against his migraines; resolutely pacing until they gave up and ran for cover.
Apparently, migraines are genetic. Some of my earliest childhood memories involve me fighting with a migraine. Telling my mom I had a “headick” and her not believing me because “kids don’t get headaches.” So I spent much of my childhood thinking there was something wrong with me because my head hurt all the time, but I didn’t know why. There were several tried and true triggers for my headaches and migraines. The biggest one of all was heat. If I spent even one moment too long in the sun or got just the tiniest bit too hot, I was down for the count with a blinding migraine, throwing my guts up and essentially praying for death. The other big one was stress, which more than picked up the slack when heat was not an issue. I’ve had migraines for as long as I can remember.
And about this time last year, The Boy was diagnosed with migraines as well. We did all sorts of tests to rule out the scary stuff and eventually just came back to the idea that they were just migraines. He was four and a half when he was diagnosed. And his were definitely triggered by stress.
Now I am wondering if The Girl has decided to pick up the familial migraine baton as well. Over the past several weeks, I’ve noticed her starting to tell me her head hurts and her behavior changes radically when this happens. She’s not yet three years old.
I would rather have had my children inherit something else from me than stress induced migraines. They got my blue eyes, button nose and ability to internalize stress to the point where they can’t see straight. Perfect.
Apparently, migraines are genetic. Some of my earliest childhood memories involve me fighting with a migraine. Telling my mom I had a “headick” and her not believing me because “kids don’t get headaches.” So I spent much of my childhood thinking there was something wrong with me because my head hurt all the time, but I didn’t know why. There were several tried and true triggers for my headaches and migraines. The biggest one of all was heat. If I spent even one moment too long in the sun or got just the tiniest bit too hot, I was down for the count with a blinding migraine, throwing my guts up and essentially praying for death. The other big one was stress, which more than picked up the slack when heat was not an issue. I’ve had migraines for as long as I can remember.
And about this time last year, The Boy was diagnosed with migraines as well. We did all sorts of tests to rule out the scary stuff and eventually just came back to the idea that they were just migraines. He was four and a half when he was diagnosed. And his were definitely triggered by stress.
Now I am wondering if The Girl has decided to pick up the familial migraine baton as well. Over the past several weeks, I’ve noticed her starting to tell me her head hurts and her behavior changes radically when this happens. She’s not yet three years old.
I would rather have had my children inherit something else from me than stress induced migraines. They got my blue eyes, button nose and ability to internalize stress to the point where they can’t see straight. Perfect.
4/14/09
Flailing in Place
I’m trying to come up with a name for this project I’m working on. That seems a fair place to start when taking on a task like starting a foundation from scratch at the same time as staying home with both children, figuring out each moment as it comes hurtling at me and doing several pro bono projects for people I love and want to see succeed.
I’m feeling rather overwhelmed right now. Overwhelmed because I can’t quite seem to get things to line up the way I’d like so that I can start making substantial plans. So that I can start making strides forward instead of feeling like my feet are staked to the ground while the rest of me is flailing about trying to keep some semblance of balance. Where’s the stake remover when you need one?
At the same time however, I’m feeling really very exhilarated at the chance to be helping out these people that I adore and have such deep respect for the work they take on so selflessly. I feel really honored that they would trust me with helping them in this transitional and vulnerable stage with their work. And I feel blessed that I have the knowledge I have so that I can truly be of assistance to them. And this foundation idea is really going in my head, blooming and taking on a life of its own to some extent.
I think one of my problems right now is that I really am a behind the scenes kind of girl. I have a hard time being in the spotlight. I have a hard time commanding attention. I have a problem with being timid when I should be thoroughly empowered and asking for what I want and need. And I’m not altogether sure how to make that timidity fade into the background so that I can step through it and be who I am in a way that gets things done with the big power broker muckety mucks that are often the gate keepers.
I’m just going to cross my fingers that simply being who I am in every moment will get me where I want to be.
I’m feeling rather overwhelmed right now. Overwhelmed because I can’t quite seem to get things to line up the way I’d like so that I can start making substantial plans. So that I can start making strides forward instead of feeling like my feet are staked to the ground while the rest of me is flailing about trying to keep some semblance of balance. Where’s the stake remover when you need one?
At the same time however, I’m feeling really very exhilarated at the chance to be helping out these people that I adore and have such deep respect for the work they take on so selflessly. I feel really honored that they would trust me with helping them in this transitional and vulnerable stage with their work. And I feel blessed that I have the knowledge I have so that I can truly be of assistance to them. And this foundation idea is really going in my head, blooming and taking on a life of its own to some extent.
I think one of my problems right now is that I really am a behind the scenes kind of girl. I have a hard time being in the spotlight. I have a hard time commanding attention. I have a problem with being timid when I should be thoroughly empowered and asking for what I want and need. And I’m not altogether sure how to make that timidity fade into the background so that I can step through it and be who I am in a way that gets things done with the big power broker muckety mucks that are often the gate keepers.
I’m just going to cross my fingers that simply being who I am in every moment will get me where I want to be.
4/13/09
Sorry and Nana Love
Oh dear readers. I’m sorry. It finally happened. I didn’t write, nor did I post yesterday. As I was finally fading into sleep last night at almost midnight, the thought intruded upon the in between space of nearly asleep but still conscious and I almost sat bolt upright in bed, went downstairs and wrote. But instead I stayed in bed and allowed myself to succumb to the sleep that was rolling towards me. But I am sorry. And I do feel guilty. Seriously.
So here I am trying to decide if I should write just for today or yesterday too. And I’m watching my mom play catch in our family room with The Girl. And they are both just giggling and so completely enjoying the activity of learning from each other. I am almost having a hard time writing as I keep getting sucked into just watching them.
And now The Girl is jumping and jumping and jumping. She’s a jumping fiend. And she desperately wants her Nana to jump with her and my mom is trying to explain to an almost 3 year old how jumping isn’t really an option for her anymore, what with missing a leg and all. It’s a double-edged sword for my kids to have their Nana be an amputee. They’ve grown up with her and thus have zero fear of wheelchairs and the disabled in general, which is wonderful for their world view. They know their Nana is different, but don’t see her as lacking in any way. Her wheelchair has always been a toy and source of great fun for them both. But they also get truly disappointed when she can’t do things like jump up and down with them, because they just do not understand that only having one full leg holds her back from activities like that.
My mom is so wonderful with them. And they just flat adore her. She is such a grounding and playful force in their lives. She has to leave tomorrow, to go home, back to her busy, busy life. And that is so hard, for all of us. She doesn’t want to leave and we wish she could stay forever.
So here I am trying to decide if I should write just for today or yesterday too. And I’m watching my mom play catch in our family room with The Girl. And they are both just giggling and so completely enjoying the activity of learning from each other. I am almost having a hard time writing as I keep getting sucked into just watching them.
And now The Girl is jumping and jumping and jumping. She’s a jumping fiend. And she desperately wants her Nana to jump with her and my mom is trying to explain to an almost 3 year old how jumping isn’t really an option for her anymore, what with missing a leg and all. It’s a double-edged sword for my kids to have their Nana be an amputee. They’ve grown up with her and thus have zero fear of wheelchairs and the disabled in general, which is wonderful for their world view. They know their Nana is different, but don’t see her as lacking in any way. Her wheelchair has always been a toy and source of great fun for them both. But they also get truly disappointed when she can’t do things like jump up and down with them, because they just do not understand that only having one full leg holds her back from activities like that.
My mom is so wonderful with them. And they just flat adore her. She is such a grounding and playful force in their lives. She has to leave tomorrow, to go home, back to her busy, busy life. And that is so hard, for all of us. She doesn’t want to leave and we wish she could stay forever.
4/11/09
Belligerence and Table Manners
“Peanut.”
Picks up the bag and looks at it, “No. Peanut. But-ter.”
“Fuck you.”
Apparently I’m not the only one who is rife with belligerence as of late. The above exchange just took place between my husband and my mom. They are sitting on the floor filling Easter eggs for The Boy and The Girl for tomorrow morning’s ass crack of dawn egg hunt. They, like most children, intuitively know when it’s a holiday and so thus get up at least an extra hour earlier. It’s really very lovely. And so much appreciated.
Maybe it’s the full moon. Maybe it’s all the wind. Maybe it’s the up and down temperatures happening here with the weather. I don’t know, but I’m sort of glad to see that I’m not the only one oozing belligerence around here. Gives me the freedom to really let it rip when the mood strikes. And allows me to not feel quite so guilty when I tell my husband (or total strangers in my head) to fuck off. It’s amazing what hearing your mom say it for you will do for a girl.
The Boy has been utterly belligerent today in the way that only a going on 6 years old kid can be. We splurged and went out to dinner tonight and he sat on the dinner table. In the restaurant. During dinner. I was aghast. That is something you just don’t do in my world. I’m sort of a stickler for table manners. One of my biggest rewards as a kid was to get to go out to dinner with my parents. So I figured out early on that the only way to keep getting to go out to eat was to be really, really good during dinner. So when The Boy uses his crayons as missiles, I tend to get a wee bit tense.
My mom is filling plastic eggs with jelly beans; alternating eating them and then putting some in the eggs. When she found a particular flavor she really liked, she immediately turned to her son-in-law, opened her mouth and asked what color it was. At least now I know where The Boy gets his table manners.
Picks up the bag and looks at it, “No. Peanut. But-ter.”
“Fuck you.”
Apparently I’m not the only one who is rife with belligerence as of late. The above exchange just took place between my husband and my mom. They are sitting on the floor filling Easter eggs for The Boy and The Girl for tomorrow morning’s ass crack of dawn egg hunt. They, like most children, intuitively know when it’s a holiday and so thus get up at least an extra hour earlier. It’s really very lovely. And so much appreciated.
Maybe it’s the full moon. Maybe it’s all the wind. Maybe it’s the up and down temperatures happening here with the weather. I don’t know, but I’m sort of glad to see that I’m not the only one oozing belligerence around here. Gives me the freedom to really let it rip when the mood strikes. And allows me to not feel quite so guilty when I tell my husband (or total strangers in my head) to fuck off. It’s amazing what hearing your mom say it for you will do for a girl.
The Boy has been utterly belligerent today in the way that only a going on 6 years old kid can be. We splurged and went out to dinner tonight and he sat on the dinner table. In the restaurant. During dinner. I was aghast. That is something you just don’t do in my world. I’m sort of a stickler for table manners. One of my biggest rewards as a kid was to get to go out to dinner with my parents. So I figured out early on that the only way to keep getting to go out to eat was to be really, really good during dinner. So when The Boy uses his crayons as missiles, I tend to get a wee bit tense.
My mom is filling plastic eggs with jelly beans; alternating eating them and then putting some in the eggs. When she found a particular flavor she really liked, she immediately turned to her son-in-law, opened her mouth and asked what color it was. At least now I know where The Boy gets his table manners.
4/10/09
A Healthy Dose of Belligerence
FUCK!!! Fucketty, fuck, fuck, fuck!!!
I’ve got some pent up belligerence boiling I think. Because every time I try to retreat to the peace of my own inner thoughts, all I’m finding is me screaming FUCK at the top of my lungs. Ever since the silent retreat, I’ve been doing everything I can to be a picture of peace, joy, patience and awareness. And for the most part I’ve been successful. I can catch myself when I’m manufacturing drama. I can catch myself when I’m getting entrenched in fear. I can catch myself when I’m projecting or hiding behind some silly mind story or feeding an unhealthy coping mechanism. I’ve been doing pretty damn well actually.
But today? Today I woke up crabby, belligerent and not wanting to do much of anything. I want to smoke and cuss, eat junk food and drink cocktails, ignore my children and my responsibilities. I want to tell the Buddha and Joseph Goldstein to take a big ol’ hike on the highway to go fuck yourself. I want to get in my car, drive away and not look back. I want to dye my hair purple and hot pink even though I might get an interview any day. I want to write awful emails to all of the places that I’ve applied to for a job that I am more than qualified for and point out how much my resume fucking rocks and they must be absolute idiots for missing that fact. I want to encase myself in a Plexiglas box so that my children CANNOT be in constant contact with me. I want to tell my husband to get off his fucking high horse and try walking a mile in my shoes for a couple of days. I want to strangle the office manager at The Girl’s preschool for the complete lack of accounting competence. I want to throw my scale out the window and embrace a feminist fuck it attitude when it comes to what I look like. I want to beat the shit out of the creator of Dora.
And I want to do it all while gorging on barbeque potato chips thank you very much.
I’ve got some pent up belligerence boiling I think. Because every time I try to retreat to the peace of my own inner thoughts, all I’m finding is me screaming FUCK at the top of my lungs. Ever since the silent retreat, I’ve been doing everything I can to be a picture of peace, joy, patience and awareness. And for the most part I’ve been successful. I can catch myself when I’m manufacturing drama. I can catch myself when I’m getting entrenched in fear. I can catch myself when I’m projecting or hiding behind some silly mind story or feeding an unhealthy coping mechanism. I’ve been doing pretty damn well actually.
But today? Today I woke up crabby, belligerent and not wanting to do much of anything. I want to smoke and cuss, eat junk food and drink cocktails, ignore my children and my responsibilities. I want to tell the Buddha and Joseph Goldstein to take a big ol’ hike on the highway to go fuck yourself. I want to get in my car, drive away and not look back. I want to dye my hair purple and hot pink even though I might get an interview any day. I want to write awful emails to all of the places that I’ve applied to for a job that I am more than qualified for and point out how much my resume fucking rocks and they must be absolute idiots for missing that fact. I want to encase myself in a Plexiglas box so that my children CANNOT be in constant contact with me. I want to tell my husband to get off his fucking high horse and try walking a mile in my shoes for a couple of days. I want to strangle the office manager at The Girl’s preschool for the complete lack of accounting competence. I want to throw my scale out the window and embrace a feminist fuck it attitude when it comes to what I look like. I want to beat the shit out of the creator of Dora.
And I want to do it all while gorging on barbeque potato chips thank you very much.