doesn't
mind that she had three fabulous things to do yesterday, all
successful, but thinks that there was no need for all that beer and
garlic at her advanced age...
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sizing Up the Situation
I'm sorting through clothes, sized 12 months to 18, wondering how parents ever deal with the loss of a child when I'm so deeply mourning the little girl who wore the handknit sweater?
Two years. My god - TWO YEARS. I was such an infant, a child. I had no sense. I'm astonished that we did so well. And each month I think "Thank god she's so great" Everyone says it goes by so quick, and I feel myself grasping at days, at moments, and turning them over in the sun, not wanting to forget them because quick doesn't even explain it. They say it gets tougher, and that you need to enjoy it now because they grow to hate you later - and I think "How sad" How sad one day that this little girl will grow up and forget that she was the very light of my life for hours, and hours at a time, each day, every day.
I cried when she saw Santa for the first time, I cried when she sat on the potty for the first time today and I'm crying now folding the itty bittiest sweaters that she used to wear so bravely. Egads, the courage to walk. She was so little. And getting so big.
.
Two years. My god - TWO YEARS. I was such an infant, a child. I had no sense. I'm astonished that we did so well. And each month I think "Thank god she's so great" Everyone says it goes by so quick, and I feel myself grasping at days, at moments, and turning them over in the sun, not wanting to forget them because quick doesn't even explain it. They say it gets tougher, and that you need to enjoy it now because they grow to hate you later - and I think "How sad" How sad one day that this little girl will grow up and forget that she was the very light of my life for hours, and hours at a time, each day, every day.
I cried when she saw Santa for the first time, I cried when she sat on the potty for the first time today and I'm crying now folding the itty bittiest sweaters that she used to wear so bravely. Egads, the courage to walk. She was so little. And getting so big.
.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Sign Of The Times
What does it say about the Doller Tree's demographic that they sell pregnancy tests at the impulse section of the checkout?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Ok but what's the upside?
What's good today:
1. The baby beast is amazing.
2. My husband is great.
3. My toes are painted a bright shiny red and quite cheery
4. My closet is clean
5. A decision has been made about siding (yes) the deck (yes) the porch (pending repairs) the painting (yes) and the addition (no)
6. I have the complete Time Life music collection of all the 70's compilations.
7. I'm NOT joining the local Fitness Bootcamp
and that's it I guess. Besides the being grateful for feet when some men have no shoes or some such thing. I really MUST be in a funk. All I can think of to be grateful for is that Ellie is napping. Sigh. As my sister would say - too much free time to think. May as well go organize more.
1. The baby beast is amazing.
2. My husband is great.
3. My toes are painted a bright shiny red and quite cheery
4. My closet is clean
5. A decision has been made about siding (yes) the deck (yes) the porch (pending repairs) the painting (yes) and the addition (no)
6. I have the complete Time Life music collection of all the 70's compilations.
7. I'm NOT joining the local Fitness Bootcamp
and that's it I guess. Besides the being grateful for feet when some men have no shoes or some such thing. I really MUST be in a funk. All I can think of to be grateful for is that Ellie is napping. Sigh. As my sister would say - too much free time to think. May as well go organize more.
Won't you take me to, FUNKYtown
Yeh, I guess I am in a bit of a funk. No nothings wrong, in fact I had a nice weekend with excellent plans and good company. So I'm not terribly disenfranchised. Just...hmm... not feeling up. Not down, just not up.
I think there comes a time, like I said prior, where you are just trying to make the best of something vs seizing the best of something. And my husband and I are nothing if not practical. So we keep finding reasons, and explanations, to justify how we live day to day. But there part of my lately, and this is CLEARLY a theme in my life anyway, that wants to strike out and create something great - versus making do. Making do well mind you, but making do.
Listen - one of the ways in which we stay happy is by not "wanting". Neither of us generally wants fine cars, clothes, trips, presents, furnishings so seldom do we feel a longing discontent for those things. That's how we stay in a small house. With older cars. And no video games. Or tres fancy gadgets.
Could we tax ourselves, spend a bit more, yes. But then we'd have to sacrifice more, and at heart, I think we both don't like the value proposition. When we were talking about adding on a room, we analyzed the cost per square foot to build, the potential financial return, and then the estimated amount of hours we'd use the room. We are ...nice..but not very FUN people. On sale? Get two? No thanks. We don't need one. But it's free? Ah, nah, where will we put it. For crying out loud, I don't even take birthday favors home from the party. The key to being happy with what you have is wanting what you have. It's a mantra. Most days, it's a good way to live. That way you don't envy, you don't waste money trying to buy happiness. Trying to chase dreams.
But what do you do when one day all you have starts looking shabby and tatty. Worn out. Used up?
Yes, I'm talking about my body.
No no, just kidding.
It's here. After a winter indoors everything looks so ...grungy. Used. Threadbare. The furniture is chipped from baby toys ramming into it, the couches smell like 21 year old ass, or is it axe? The curtains bought at Target when we moved in showing their cheapness. Everything looks so...dead really.
I guess I have this mentality that you buy it, and use it. If it doesn't taste good, you eat it anyway. If it's not broken, you don't get a new one. We have Crate and Barrel dishes that DO NOT FIT in our dishwasher. So every night I handwash and dry our plates. EVERY night. Just buy a new set of plates for fucks sake, right? But no. I can't. "Because these are the ones I own, dammit." I was in HEAVEN when my Pfaltscraft glasses finally went. Every last one of them broke. Yippee. After 10 years I got new glassware.
What's my point? Meh. I have no idea.
I just spent an hour in the closet (literally, not metaphorically homosexually mind you) and pulled out the "summer" clothes. Honestly. It's shit that's so old I wouldn't donate it to disaster relief. It's too dated to give to a friend. Too scratchy, too ruffly, too young, too tight, too everything.
Yet I pulled it all out and hung it. For myself to wear. Because it's going to make me feel good? I think not.
And now, as I write this, I'm looking at a small pile to my left. Of clothes that the consignment shop is likely to reject. Yet I'm reluctant to bring them in.
Why?
Because it's an admission that they are never going to fit again, look good again? Maybe.
Or maybe it's because - secretly - I think "Maybe they still look good and I'm just blind to that fact. I'm going to give them away and they DEEPLY, darkly regret it. Forever."
I'm agonizing.
"Oh but they are new. Read: more then 4 years old. Oh but they are cute Read: yes they were, when I was thinner and hip length sweaters were in.
They are wearable and practical.
Never mind that I practically wear them.
I'm just blue I guess.
Pulling out summer clothes from 3 years ago, feeling blue that this is another year I'll look shitty and tatty, just like my rugs, just like my curtains.
wah wah wah.
I think there comes a time, like I said prior, where you are just trying to make the best of something vs seizing the best of something. And my husband and I are nothing if not practical. So we keep finding reasons, and explanations, to justify how we live day to day. But there part of my lately, and this is CLEARLY a theme in my life anyway, that wants to strike out and create something great - versus making do. Making do well mind you, but making do.
Listen - one of the ways in which we stay happy is by not "wanting". Neither of us generally wants fine cars, clothes, trips, presents, furnishings so seldom do we feel a longing discontent for those things. That's how we stay in a small house. With older cars. And no video games. Or tres fancy gadgets.
Could we tax ourselves, spend a bit more, yes. But then we'd have to sacrifice more, and at heart, I think we both don't like the value proposition. When we were talking about adding on a room, we analyzed the cost per square foot to build, the potential financial return, and then the estimated amount of hours we'd use the room. We are ...nice..but not very FUN people. On sale? Get two? No thanks. We don't need one. But it's free? Ah, nah, where will we put it. For crying out loud, I don't even take birthday favors home from the party. The key to being happy with what you have is wanting what you have. It's a mantra. Most days, it's a good way to live. That way you don't envy, you don't waste money trying to buy happiness. Trying to chase dreams.
But what do you do when one day all you have starts looking shabby and tatty. Worn out. Used up?
Yes, I'm talking about my body.
No no, just kidding.
It's here. After a winter indoors everything looks so ...grungy. Used. Threadbare. The furniture is chipped from baby toys ramming into it, the couches smell like 21 year old ass, or is it axe? The curtains bought at Target when we moved in showing their cheapness. Everything looks so...dead really.
I guess I have this mentality that you buy it, and use it. If it doesn't taste good, you eat it anyway. If it's not broken, you don't get a new one. We have Crate and Barrel dishes that DO NOT FIT in our dishwasher. So every night I handwash and dry our plates. EVERY night. Just buy a new set of plates for fucks sake, right? But no. I can't. "Because these are the ones I own, dammit." I was in HEAVEN when my Pfaltscraft glasses finally went. Every last one of them broke. Yippee. After 10 years I got new glassware.
What's my point? Meh. I have no idea.
I just spent an hour in the closet (literally, not metaphorically homosexually mind you) and pulled out the "summer" clothes. Honestly. It's shit that's so old I wouldn't donate it to disaster relief. It's too dated to give to a friend. Too scratchy, too ruffly, too young, too tight, too everything.
Yet I pulled it all out and hung it. For myself to wear. Because it's going to make me feel good? I think not.
And now, as I write this, I'm looking at a small pile to my left. Of clothes that the consignment shop is likely to reject. Yet I'm reluctant to bring them in.
Why?
Because it's an admission that they are never going to fit again, look good again? Maybe.
Or maybe it's because - secretly - I think "Maybe they still look good and I'm just blind to that fact. I'm going to give them away and they DEEPLY, darkly regret it. Forever."
I'm agonizing.
"Oh but they are new. Read: more then 4 years old. Oh but they are cute Read: yes they were, when I was thinner and hip length sweaters were in.
They are wearable and practical.
Never mind that I practically wear them.
I'm just blue I guess.
Pulling out summer clothes from 3 years ago, feeling blue that this is another year I'll look shitty and tatty, just like my rugs, just like my curtains.
wah wah wah.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
if youre gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right
You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when youre sittin at the table.
Therell be time enough for countin when the dealins done.
Now evry gambler knows that the secret to survivin
Is knowin what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
cause evry hands a winner and evry hands a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.
I'm ready.
To move on.
Almost 6 years ago I was ready to leave this town.
But I was busy at work, then busy with Mike, then busy being busy.
I started looking at condos, at houses. I looked all over, Everett, Jamaica Plain, the South End, East Boston, Fort Hill. I looked at good towns and at not o good towns. I looked EVERYWHERE. And I stayed here because I knew, at the time, that it was wiser - and safer - not to make such a drastic change. And I haven't regretted it really. But today I felt it again. The stirrings of wanting to leave. I don't know if it was the litter blowing onto lawns from the side of the railroad tracks, the disenfranchised blackhooded hoodlums stalking angrily down the street, the overall seedy neglect of some of the houses on my sidestrrets but today I was just...done.
I haven't "had it" I don't "hate it" I don't even "dislike" it. I'm just...not bored. that's not the right word. I've ...outgrown where we live. For me. I've been here since 1997. Twelve years later I've eaten at every restaurant, i've driven down every road. Surely there are things I love - the library, the lake, my playgroups, my neighbors.
But overall, when I project OUT ...I don't see me living here.
and it's ok.
Because I'm ready.
And we talked about moving - but shied away because we didn't want to spend the money to essentially make a lateral move. We live in this town surely but why spend $100,000, or $150000 MORE to live IN THE SAME TOWN??? With the same restaurants, schools, tailors, and gain nothing but more living space. bah. From here I can walk to the center. From a better neighborhood I couldn't. So I'd be throwing away some of the best things. For relatively little. So we decided to stay. Here. But only for another year. And yes, one year always means two - but it's not five.
"Oh but what about your friends? Your life?"
Yes. I know. But you can't cling to that. Friends move - their jobs change - they go back to work, they go off to school, they have second children, third children. Lives change. And clinging to a life, this life, just because it served you well once, is no way to live.
So I'm ready.
And I think, I daresay, I might just be looking forward to it.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
I know it's late, I know you're weary...
God how I miss "Tell it like it is Tuesdays"
Ok that never happened but it was a good idea of my sisters.
I had a good day. a great day. Yesterday was also a good day. Maybe a great day. Tomorrow promises to be a super excellent day. All around, the days are good. Things were - are - were moving forward. we tore off the deck, we're figuring out what to do next, the girl child is about to be two - and as delightful as I could want her to be. I got new pillows for the couch - yea lame but honestly, the old ones were grimy - and I have ideas for how to get things even more efficiently streamlined. (What's left you are wondering, right? Hey, the kid outgrows things.)
My relationship with my neighbors is excellent. Why does this matter? I live in a tiny residential area and our houses are less then 15 feet from each other. Ish. So yeah, it's great to be neighbors. We chat across fences, yell across yards. I'm lucky enough to have girlfriends, whether the relationships are real or imagined, and daily, there's something to do and someone to do it with.
So life, as I know it, is good. I've walked 4 miles each day the last two days and will again tomorrow and my weekly Wednesday playgroup has disbanded. Thank the good lord.
So - HONESTLY - things are good.
So don't mind me for bitching.
Maybe I'm confused. Maybe my glass is so full that I forgot what it was like when it was empty. maybe I'm living in an alternate reality - where I dont have a boss, a 9to5 job, a commute or any other thing to disenchant me so I live in tremendous la la land.
And I have ZERO right to judge anyone.
But were it Tell it like it is Tuesday today? Whooo boy. Duck and run for cover baby.
Because in the midst of my REALLY FUCKING GOOD DAY I wanted to say the following.
1. Get to the point please. Are you coming or not? Do you need a ride or not? I have 10 other people I'm interested in meeting up with. Your son is sniffling, I got it. I don't need a 13 minute dissertation on what his needs are, how he slept, what your hopes, dreams fears and aspirations are. Yes, I care if he is sick. I care if you are sick. I care about you. In the scope that if it were life threatening, I'd want you both to live. But he woke up sick? Um hmm. BFD. We are IN the car and going somewhere. Am I stopping this behemoth or what?
2. Really? You're son refuses to sleep without you? Um hmm. So you lay down next to him? Because why exactly? I'm just curious. I mean - won't he EVENTUALLY get tired? Eventually? Sooner or later he has to sleep right? So if you just keep him up till he drops like a tiny fly you can pop him in his crib right? oh he climbs out? Well, your house is big enough. Take all the shit out of his room, put a toddler bed in and put a screen door on the room. Eventually the little fucker will curl up in a corner. Must I know EVERYTHING?
3. So you wanted to, what did you say, oh that's right, LITERALLY shoot your boss today. Uh.. Ok. Because he, what's that, was mean to you? Oh. Did he call you a stupid fat whore? No. Oh. Did he say that your work sucked? Not that either. What happened now? Ohhhhh he SNAPPED at you because you were 1/2 hour late and missed a meeting with him. Bastard. Ahh. So he "dissed" you which I believe is the colloquial term for "Disrespected" you and know you are going on with the equivalent of wanting to "pop a cap in his ass" Charming.
4. Thank you mothers helper girl for calling me at 2:37 on the day you used to come every week to ask me if I "needed you today" Apparently the 3 conversations I've had with you and your mom about your calling me ONE DAY IN ADVANCE when you were available given your new busy schedule (my idea, you ARE really tired honey) has been misconstrued. I'm going to blame hormones.
5. Yes dear. Let's not discuss things.
Your parents are coming ostensibly to help our marriage because our porch was a splintering piece of shit and I was ready to scream you to death given that they took two years for them (professional housepainters) who promised to fix it (broken promises what?) so instead we ripped OFF the porch - and how much is a new deck going to cost again? Oh I'd say just a hair (thousands) more then if you guys had painted it and protected it when we discussed it WHILE I WAS PREGNANT. But sure, 2 1/2 years later it was rotted to shit so yeah, no need to fix it now. It's in a scrap pile now. But they are still coming? Why again? Oh, they still want to help? Ok. Um hmm, they wanted to know what else I needed? Well, Ellie's room they were going to paint while I was pregnant so can they do that? What? The end of April is too early in the season to paint? Oh. Really? So what the fuck did they do indoors a since Christmas? I'm sorry, was that rude? They are going to come back three weeks later? So two visits. Ah, ok. Yeah. Sure. Just like it took them almost a year and 3 months since their last visit. I'm sure they are going to come back in May to paint a bedroom. THANKS FOR THE HELP WITH OUR MARRIAGE. Honestly.
6. Her shoes? Yes. She got them from her cousin. Her cousin that gives her BAGS and BAGS of clothes you say? I'm sorry? What? oh, she's dressed nice because I get given things? Oh. um, ok. You have no one giving YOU things? Well, um, actually, I assume your youngest gets things from BOTH of her older sisters. So back off. But I'm really really sorry that I get handmedowns. I should be ashamed really.
But I didn't say any of that.
Because I'm generally happy.
Meanwhile - tomorrow I am calling both a painter for the bedrooms and the front hall as well as a separate contractor to fix the front porch. Then I'm going to schedule them and prepay. After that I'll be calling my inlaws to tell them I'm sorry but they can't come in April now because we are having work done. But that's' ok. Because they are coming three weeks later, isn't that right? no sir, just kidding! Please come. But no thanks on the painting. We're all set.
Ok that never happened but it was a good idea of my sisters.
I had a good day. a great day. Yesterday was also a good day. Maybe a great day. Tomorrow promises to be a super excellent day. All around, the days are good. Things were - are - were moving forward. we tore off the deck, we're figuring out what to do next, the girl child is about to be two - and as delightful as I could want her to be. I got new pillows for the couch - yea lame but honestly, the old ones were grimy - and I have ideas for how to get things even more efficiently streamlined. (What's left you are wondering, right? Hey, the kid outgrows things.)
My relationship with my neighbors is excellent. Why does this matter? I live in a tiny residential area and our houses are less then 15 feet from each other. Ish. So yeah, it's great to be neighbors. We chat across fences, yell across yards. I'm lucky enough to have girlfriends, whether the relationships are real or imagined, and daily, there's something to do and someone to do it with.
So life, as I know it, is good. I've walked 4 miles each day the last two days and will again tomorrow and my weekly Wednesday playgroup has disbanded. Thank the good lord.
So - HONESTLY - things are good.
So don't mind me for bitching.
Maybe I'm confused. Maybe my glass is so full that I forgot what it was like when it was empty. maybe I'm living in an alternate reality - where I dont have a boss, a 9to5 job, a commute or any other thing to disenchant me so I live in tremendous la la land.
And I have ZERO right to judge anyone.
But were it Tell it like it is Tuesday today? Whooo boy. Duck and run for cover baby.
Because in the midst of my REALLY FUCKING GOOD DAY I wanted to say the following.
1. Get to the point please. Are you coming or not? Do you need a ride or not? I have 10 other people I'm interested in meeting up with. Your son is sniffling, I got it. I don't need a 13 minute dissertation on what his needs are, how he slept, what your hopes, dreams fears and aspirations are. Yes, I care if he is sick. I care if you are sick. I care about you. In the scope that if it were life threatening, I'd want you both to live. But he woke up sick? Um hmm. BFD. We are IN the car and going somewhere. Am I stopping this behemoth or what?
2. Really? You're son refuses to sleep without you? Um hmm. So you lay down next to him? Because why exactly? I'm just curious. I mean - won't he EVENTUALLY get tired? Eventually? Sooner or later he has to sleep right? So if you just keep him up till he drops like a tiny fly you can pop him in his crib right? oh he climbs out? Well, your house is big enough. Take all the shit out of his room, put a toddler bed in and put a screen door on the room. Eventually the little fucker will curl up in a corner. Must I know EVERYTHING?
3. So you wanted to, what did you say, oh that's right, LITERALLY shoot your boss today. Uh.. Ok. Because he, what's that, was mean to you? Oh. Did he call you a stupid fat whore? No. Oh. Did he say that your work sucked? Not that either. What happened now? Ohhhhh he SNAPPED at you because you were 1/2 hour late and missed a meeting with him. Bastard. Ahh. So he "dissed" you which I believe is the colloquial term for "Disrespected" you and know you are going on with the equivalent of wanting to "pop a cap in his ass" Charming.
4. Thank you mothers helper girl for calling me at 2:37 on the day you used to come every week to ask me if I "needed you today" Apparently the 3 conversations I've had with you and your mom about your calling me ONE DAY IN ADVANCE when you were available given your new busy schedule (my idea, you ARE really tired honey) has been misconstrued. I'm going to blame hormones.
5. Yes dear. Let's not discuss things.
Your parents are coming ostensibly to help our marriage because our porch was a splintering piece of shit and I was ready to scream you to death given that they took two years for them (professional housepainters) who promised to fix it (broken promises what?) so instead we ripped OFF the porch - and how much is a new deck going to cost again? Oh I'd say just a hair (thousands) more then if you guys had painted it and protected it when we discussed it WHILE I WAS PREGNANT. But sure, 2 1/2 years later it was rotted to shit so yeah, no need to fix it now. It's in a scrap pile now. But they are still coming? Why again? Oh, they still want to help? Ok. Um hmm, they wanted to know what else I needed? Well, Ellie's room they were going to paint while I was pregnant so can they do that? What? The end of April is too early in the season to paint? Oh. Really? So what the fuck did they do indoors a since Christmas? I'm sorry, was that rude? They are going to come back three weeks later? So two visits. Ah, ok. Yeah. Sure. Just like it took them almost a year and 3 months since their last visit. I'm sure they are going to come back in May to paint a bedroom. THANKS FOR THE HELP WITH OUR MARRIAGE. Honestly.
6. Her shoes? Yes. She got them from her cousin. Her cousin that gives her BAGS and BAGS of clothes you say? I'm sorry? What? oh, she's dressed nice because I get given things? Oh. um, ok. You have no one giving YOU things? Well, um, actually, I assume your youngest gets things from BOTH of her older sisters. So back off. But I'm really really sorry that I get handmedowns. I should be ashamed really.
But I didn't say any of that.
Because I'm generally happy.
Meanwhile - tomorrow I am calling both a painter for the bedrooms and the front hall as well as a separate contractor to fix the front porch. Then I'm going to schedule them and prepay. After that I'll be calling my inlaws to tell them I'm sorry but they can't come in April now because we are having work done. But that's' ok. Because they are coming three weeks later, isn't that right? no sir, just kidding! Please come. But no thanks on the painting. We're all set.
Monday, April 13, 2009
You Know What They Say About Little Pitchers
Everyone always says it."Watch what you say"
"Once they start talking, you have to be careful"
This morning I was changing Ellie. Down she lay, sucking her bink, staring over my shoulder at the tv. Suck suck. She bobbed her head sideways as I obstructed the view.
Onesie snapped. Shirt over head. One leg in, then another. Then I pull her up by her arms, sockets be damned, and tug her jeans over her bum.
Her tiny little arms wrap around my neck and she leans her full weight onto me.
And I give her a big big hug. Because hugs are getting shorter in duration and morning hugs are some of the best. And as I leaned my face into her tiny torso, I breathed deep and focused on the fact that I love this little girl.
And as she hugged back, I heard it.
Her tiny little voice.
"I luff you Mwammey"
Wonder of wonders.
The first time.
Wherever did she hear that?
image
City Slickers
Friday my husband took the day off. He gets it as a floating holiday and we thought that it might be a good idea to take Ellie out - somewhere - if not for Easter then just for the day. Because we are a family that's going to start "doing things" damnit.
So off we went to a little community farm.
And like the city folk we were, parented the best we knew how in the face of clear and present danger.
The Chicken Dance
Space Invaders
So off we went to a little community farm.
And like the city folk we were, parented the best we knew how in the face of clear and present danger.
The Chicken Dance
Space Invaders
Right Here, Right Now...
The last several weeks have been tough. Not because my nephew is here, he's really no bother, just the incessant conversations, the amount of energy Ellie has, my being lackluster physically (I stopped doing Shred almost 3 weeks ago and sadly feel it)
Bad eating, bad sleeping, bad communication makes for evil days. The daylight is helping - the days being longer - and my nephew stayed with friends this weekend, so we had time to ourselves.
So the tide is shifting, and it's good. It's a good thing.
Plus the decision has been made to stay here so I'm starting to think, more seriously, or maybe I should say "rethink" how we use our office space and if there's a way to more efficiently live in the house. I know, really, it's never ending.
We haven't outgrown the space per se, it's the slow accumulation. Daily it seems we add. Little things. A sewing kit, patches, more yarn for knitting. Sippy cups as she outgrows the two handle ones, booster seats, different games. I keep the spending low, I yardsale, I buy "only what I need" bt there's always something small that needs to be stored. For example my hands are bleeding and cracking. So I bought soft gloves for moisturizig. $1 in the clearance bin at CVS, good quality. Surely a $1 well spent but where oh where do I keep them?
Whereforego the shoes at the back door? The hats? Diaper bags? All these small things that gather. And apparently multiply. The whole house is starting to feel crowded and it's anathema to me.
And that's been contributing to the stress as well. Everynight I wander like a dog chasing it's tail. Moving piles. Microorganizing. Wondering how other people seem to have time to watch a tv show, to facebook, to create and sustain hobbies and wondering why I can't manage NOT to have piles. And piles. And why I can't enjoy the nightime. So I ponder "what can I get rid of" This week it's some old (cheap) china my grandmother had. I kept what I truly valued but out out go the cups and saucers. And so be it. They don't make me love her more so why keep them?
So - and here we go AGAIN - starting the 15th (because I can't start anything on just "any' day) I'm going to start all over again. Streamlining. Dieting. Shredding. Managing. Organizing. Because although it's insane to keep trying to impose order, it's even more insane living without it.
This time, this time it's going to be different.
Bad eating, bad sleeping, bad communication makes for evil days. The daylight is helping - the days being longer - and my nephew stayed with friends this weekend, so we had time to ourselves.
So the tide is shifting, and it's good. It's a good thing.
Plus the decision has been made to stay here so I'm starting to think, more seriously, or maybe I should say "rethink" how we use our office space and if there's a way to more efficiently live in the house. I know, really, it's never ending.
We haven't outgrown the space per se, it's the slow accumulation. Daily it seems we add. Little things. A sewing kit, patches, more yarn for knitting. Sippy cups as she outgrows the two handle ones, booster seats, different games. I keep the spending low, I yardsale, I buy "only what I need" bt there's always something small that needs to be stored. For example my hands are bleeding and cracking. So I bought soft gloves for moisturizig. $1 in the clearance bin at CVS, good quality. Surely a $1 well spent but where oh where do I keep them?
Whereforego the shoes at the back door? The hats? Diaper bags? All these small things that gather. And apparently multiply. The whole house is starting to feel crowded and it's anathema to me.
And that's been contributing to the stress as well. Everynight I wander like a dog chasing it's tail. Moving piles. Microorganizing. Wondering how other people seem to have time to watch a tv show, to facebook, to create and sustain hobbies and wondering why I can't manage NOT to have piles. And piles. And why I can't enjoy the nightime. So I ponder "what can I get rid of" This week it's some old (cheap) china my grandmother had. I kept what I truly valued but out out go the cups and saucers. And so be it. They don't make me love her more so why keep them?
So - and here we go AGAIN - starting the 15th (because I can't start anything on just "any' day) I'm going to start all over again. Streamlining. Dieting. Shredding. Managing. Organizing. Because although it's insane to keep trying to impose order, it's even more insane living without it.
This time, this time it's going to be different.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Bi Between The Sheets
I can sleep on both sides of the bed. Near the wall? Great, I can snuggle in. Near the lamp? Terrific, I'll read. My husband cannot. It throws off his equilibrium.
Which amazes me because no matter where we sleep, he sleeps in the middle, with all the blankets. Roll left, pull tug turn. Roll back, pull tug turn. I wake up in the night with no covers, crowded and cranky. I sleep horribly because my husband sleeps horribly.
My husband considers it a personal affront if you come to bed dressed. Sleeping is a naked thing. Which I find uncomfortable. Not because I'm a prude, or worried about a fire or children seeing nudity. It's just not cozy. I like to be wrapped, swaddled if you will.
Which is tough with no covers. See paragraph above.
Which leads me to now.
5:30.
Up.
Tired.
It went something like this.
Deb. Right side. Unclothed. Cold. Crowded.
Sighs. Tries to get covers. Husband grunts. Deb takes pillows and creates cocoon. Tries to burrow. Moves foot. Ankle flares. Ouch.
Deb. Thinks it would be nice if window was open. Needs air to breathe. Room is stale. Sighs. Husband doesn't like window open. Wishes for covers.
Deb. Realizes she is tired. Hopes for sleep. looks at clock. NO NUMBERS! Deb worries about vision. Look again. NO NUMBERS! Deb going blind! Oh no! Deb frantic. Can't SEE Can't SEE. Deb realizes clock is angled so display is backlit. Whew.
4am. Too early to get up, too late for decent nights sleep.
Deb. Feels tiny itch. Scratches. Is that a bump? OMG. What was that. Is that a bump? Search again. Where was it? Knows she felt a bump. Panics. Worries about herpes, worries about warts. Minutes spent relocating bump. Panic ensues. Wide awake.
Restless.
Deb: Outloud into room: Are you asleep?
Husband: No
Deb: silent
Husband: Is something bothering you
Deb: Can't sleep
Husband: Are you thirsty?
Deb: rethinks dinner of french fries and wine? Yes
Husband: There's a glass over there
Deb: Up, out, gets glass, faucet, water, husband, water, bed
Nothing
Minutes
Husband: Do you need to sleep by the wall?
Deb: Maybe
No one moves
Restless movements. Minutes pass. Deb sighs.
Pillow hits head.
Husband moving.
Deb moves.
Now by wall. PILES OF COVERS.
An oeuvre of duvet.
Snuggles in.
Thinks sleep might happen.
Husband. Pulls entire network of blankets over shoulder, rolling sideways, leaving Deb with bottom right triangle only, cold, naked, next to HUGE chasm beside wall.
Deb. Noises of protest.
Husband. Grumpy. "You took all the covers"
Deb: LOUDLY indignant. "I did NOT take all the covers. You took all the covers. I never HAD any covers. If I had covers I'd be sleeping. I haven't had covers all night, you always take the covers."
Husband: Affectionately. "shut up"
Deb: "Fine. I hope you enjoy your ill begotten covers."
Newspaper hits front door.
Sigh.
Image
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Pride Comes Before A Fall
The responses were different then I expected. I wrote in pride yesterday. Thinking to myself that I say "No" and the result is that my daughter is exceptional. The perception was that I felt bad for saying "No." But I didn't at all. What I was thinking was "For all the reasons I say "No"" - my daughter is a pleasure.
We had company this weekend. Good company, appreciative, responsive, pleasant company. And my daughter did me proud. She sat up to the table by herself - no belt, no buckle, just her on a high chair - not "A Highchair" but a high chair - eating as directed. Saying please, saying thank you. Not yet two. We went to the park and she minded us. We walked for a ways and she behaved. She hugged and kissed on cue and she ultimately demonstrated what a well behaved little girl she was.
It was like that Chevy Chase movie where he pays the town to sell his house...
I think a part of me felt validated. I'm pretty firm with Ellie and I'm often loud, and direct. If I were to look assessingly at all the parents I know, I would have to say that I think I'm the toughest on my daughter. I'm actually a pain in the ass and kind of rigid. I'm also a LOUD parent. I'll scream her name hither and yon. And if I were to guess, if anyone was judging, I'm fairly certain what elements of my parenting and personality shit is said about. Or thought.
But then I go somewhere and - oh god will strike me for being proud - but my daughter is so good. She's so freakin good. She eats what's in front of her, she sits on command. I KNOW, I know, I sound like it's dog training. She doesn't hit, she doesn't take toys. She minds adults and she's quick to forgive. She shares. And she has a tender little heart. And I think, "Hey, maybe some of my tough parenting is paying off"
Meanwhile - she's 2. The real fact is she was hatched this way and we haven't yet ruined her.
But she is good. Good as gold. Not perfect. But good.
And lately I've been defensive. Well, for the last year. Since last summer actually. Because Ellie cries. But in secret - and now not do secret I think - listen, I see her crying and frankly, 75% of the time she cries, she's aggravated and she cries in retaliation. I can't tell you how many times a group of people look up to her crying - inevitably she's yelling "Mine. Mine" and I assume the thought is "oh, that child can't share." But I see her alone, and I know my daughter can sit for hours with the same 5 toys. So I'm inclined to think my daughter is playing with something and she doesn't WANT to share. Not that she took it, but that it was already hers. So instead of seeing the initial offense, all we see is my daughter retaliating. Crying. So I feel defensive. Because here I'm touting how good she is and I'm supposing that others are like "Yeh, not quite"
Now don't get me wrong - I'm not saying she doesn't pull and whine and cry for things, or get something and obsess. But more often then not, I don't see her walking up and grabbing shit. Just not her personality. Nor does she generally just cry in a vacuum. Usually - unless I'm ignoring her which is ALSO grounds for crying - it's because something or someone is bugging her.
And I also am defensive about how sharp we are with her.
To a degree, she's my husband. You have to call her name - LOUDLY - to get her attention. See, I know her. And she's focused, and intent. So I yell "Eleanor" not as a reprimand but because it short circuits her. She'll be heading forward in her fastest manner and I have to break her thought pattern quickly. I HAVE to yell her name because otherwise, she can't hear it. I love her, I love my husband but that apple from that tree is understood. And the thing about why I don't sit a rationalize with her in the moment. She's not hardwired that way. Of course I explain things to her. But in the EXACT moment often I, sharply and I mean sharply, bark NO. Because NO breaks through. But it kind of sucks lately. Because I feel like I'm publicly being a shrew and a harpy.
But then, when I compare her to other kids, I'm ok with her overall.
I like her.
In addition to loving her.
And now more so then ever, parenting styles are coming to the forfront. If I worked full time, parenting styles would be hidden. My child would only be with us, or in daycare. But because I'm home, there are myriad interactions weekly. And lately, proudly - arrogantly - I found myself thinking that some people really, and I mean really, need to be a little sharper with their own kids. I'm not blind to my daughters faults, I navigate them in my own way, but yes. I do pass judgement. And maybe to a degree I'm spoiled. Beacuse my closest two friends also are fairly disciplined with their kids. And I'm used to their equally vigilent Mommy style. So I'm struck when Im in a setting where I need to say WTF'nF?
Go ahead, put the fear of god in 'em. Who exactly, I'm curious now, is the parent here?
So yesterday I was all proud, and feeling superior. Not superior TO anyone, just superior in that I felt we were making the right choices. I felt smugly confident that my not yet 2 year old was capable of sitting unbuckled in her youth chair, using a metal fork, eating her strawberries from a bowl, not throwing, fussing, whining, crying or acting out - but sitting like a well behaved child noshing on her fruit.
I felt very...hmmm...positive about the fact that although I AM a hardass about small things, the very big privileges I have granted her are paying off. The freedoms allowed that develop her life skills.
I felt great about it.
Until she turned to point to her sippy cup that had fallen on the floor. And her sudden sharp movement launched the chair sideways, and over. Flinging her down, caught in the arm, twisted, with the chair breaking - BREAKING into chunks and shards of wood around her. Her face down of the floor, and uppercut to the chin, with the wood of the arm pressing into the soft tissue under her ribs.
And for two seconds I thought I had just lost my child. That she was going to have a broken neck. A broken back. That in my pride I had allowed her to be hurt.
And everything I've done right to this point fled my mind.
And now I'm back at zero.
Sad.
Because for all that I thought I was so great, I'm not that great at all.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Tears on my Pillow
I'm watching a friends daughter.
Who wouldn't take a nap.
"Nap for me, Dear" I said cajolingly.
Then "It's time. It's time your mother said"
"Really, what's the issue" as she screamed. In temper, not fear.
Then "Ok some books?"
and ok it was .
Minutes later temper again.
I offer hugs. Kisses. Logic.
But not egress or exit.
Spittle flies. Screams.
I looked at her closely. Maybe I'm wrong. Is she scared? Is it the house? Is it me?
I lean over eye to eye.
No tears.
Fury.
I sigh.
And catch her attention.
"No"
And now she is sitting in a crib in the dark with nothing but the soft flicker of Fraklin to keep her company.
Who wouldn't take a nap.
"Nap for me, Dear" I said cajolingly.
Then "It's time. It's time your mother said"
"Really, what's the issue" as she screamed. In temper, not fear.
Then "Ok some books?"
and ok it was .
Minutes later temper again.
I offer hugs. Kisses. Logic.
But not egress or exit.
Spittle flies. Screams.
I looked at her closely. Maybe I'm wrong. Is she scared? Is it the house? Is it me?
I lean over eye to eye.
No tears.
Fury.
I sigh.
And catch her attention.
"No"
And now she is sitting in a crib in the dark with nothing but the soft flicker of Fraklin to keep her company.
Because You're Mine, I Draw The Line
I'm sure anyone who knows me well enough knows that for the most part, I say yes. Then I think about it afterwards, and yes is usually - exactly - what I meant to say.
And if I'm don't say yes, right away, it means I want to say no. And I'm trying to figue out how to. Because never really is the polite no a "No". If you have a big enough need, and I can accommodate it without much effort, I can be swayed from a no to a yes. You don't even have to have a need. You might be inviting me somewhere and I'm just ambivalent. But if i think you really really want to do it, and it's not much of an effort for me, I'll bite.
But if I ever say "No" outright, I really, really - and I mean REALLY - mean no.
When it comes to parenting, I say no quite a bit. I say no to Playdough, no to crafts, no to small toys, no to toys with too many parts, no to cake, no to cupcakes, no to gifts, and no to the tiny goodie bags given out at birthdays, no to stuffed animals and new plastic toys. My reasons are: messy, clutter, clutter, messy, messy, messy, clutter, clutter, dirty and wasteful. In that exact order. Do I know that arts and crafts will develop her right brain, that the tactile sensation of fingerpainting will open her mind to all things creative? Yes. Do I care? No. If she's truly right brained, when she's older, she'll find a way around me. And if she's left brained, well, no point frittering time away from her natural inclinations with goo.
Having said that, there's a million things I say yes to. Yes you are allowed to climb and sit on big people chairs, yes you may eat with a real metal fork, yes I put bowls in front of you and trust you not to throw food on the floor. Yes, you have unlimited access to Mommy and Daddy meaning that you are allowed to climb up on us, yes, you are allowed to stir things on the stove - with the burners off. Yes you can stay up a little later, and yes, sitting on the coffee table is permitted (but not climbing on the couch). Yes you can use a real bat, real ball, real hockey puck and real telephone. Yes you can stand up at the sink, and you are allowed a real toothbrush. Yes, I allow you to use the hairdryer.
In a few years, I'll likely have even more rules. For example, right now, it's easy to keep you from the chemicals and the cabinets. In another year, you'll be smarter, faster, quicker and more curious. When that time comes, we'll need locks. But for ow? We're together 24/7 and you're ass is mine.
I don't believe in reprimanding with soft logic. By the time I patiently explain to you that you have the maturity and sense not to do that, your fingers are burnt. Nor am I going to intercept you and then explain painstakingly to you after what the issue is. The answer for me, as you draw near fire - is a staccato "No". And we move on. "NO" as if you were a dog and I was the trainer. Because the conversational "No, Mommy doesn't want you to" is beyond me. And frankly, beyond you. I'm not going to waste the words. For now, you accept me as law, and as you grow, I'll grow. And you'll get more reasoning. You are still a puppy and we aren't going to begin as if you are an equal. You aren't.
No.
No is no.
I don't have to give you a reason, nor do I have to worry about your fragile psyche. I said No. Enough said. My household is not a democracy. Nor will it ever be.
But I'll give you up to 25 years of respect, discipline, love and caretaking and the 50 after, you'll be all set for.
And if I'm don't say yes, right away, it means I want to say no. And I'm trying to figue out how to. Because never really is the polite no a "No". If you have a big enough need, and I can accommodate it without much effort, I can be swayed from a no to a yes. You don't even have to have a need. You might be inviting me somewhere and I'm just ambivalent. But if i think you really really want to do it, and it's not much of an effort for me, I'll bite.
But if I ever say "No" outright, I really, really - and I mean REALLY - mean no.
When it comes to parenting, I say no quite a bit. I say no to Playdough, no to crafts, no to small toys, no to toys with too many parts, no to cake, no to cupcakes, no to gifts, and no to the tiny goodie bags given out at birthdays, no to stuffed animals and new plastic toys. My reasons are: messy, clutter, clutter, messy, messy, messy, clutter, clutter, dirty and wasteful. In that exact order. Do I know that arts and crafts will develop her right brain, that the tactile sensation of fingerpainting will open her mind to all things creative? Yes. Do I care? No. If she's truly right brained, when she's older, she'll find a way around me. And if she's left brained, well, no point frittering time away from her natural inclinations with goo.
Having said that, there's a million things I say yes to. Yes you are allowed to climb and sit on big people chairs, yes you may eat with a real metal fork, yes I put bowls in front of you and trust you not to throw food on the floor. Yes, you have unlimited access to Mommy and Daddy meaning that you are allowed to climb up on us, yes, you are allowed to stir things on the stove - with the burners off. Yes you can stay up a little later, and yes, sitting on the coffee table is permitted (but not climbing on the couch). Yes you can use a real bat, real ball, real hockey puck and real telephone. Yes you can stand up at the sink, and you are allowed a real toothbrush. Yes, I allow you to use the hairdryer.
In a few years, I'll likely have even more rules. For example, right now, it's easy to keep you from the chemicals and the cabinets. In another year, you'll be smarter, faster, quicker and more curious. When that time comes, we'll need locks. But for ow? We're together 24/7 and you're ass is mine.
I don't believe in reprimanding with soft logic. By the time I patiently explain to you that you have the maturity and sense not to do that, your fingers are burnt. Nor am I going to intercept you and then explain painstakingly to you after what the issue is. The answer for me, as you draw near fire - is a staccato "No". And we move on. "NO" as if you were a dog and I was the trainer. Because the conversational "No, Mommy doesn't want you to" is beyond me. And frankly, beyond you. I'm not going to waste the words. For now, you accept me as law, and as you grow, I'll grow. And you'll get more reasoning. You are still a puppy and we aren't going to begin as if you are an equal. You aren't.
No.
No is no.
I don't have to give you a reason, nor do I have to worry about your fragile psyche. I said No. Enough said. My household is not a democracy. Nor will it ever be.
But I'll give you up to 25 years of respect, discipline, love and caretaking and the 50 after, you'll be all set for.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Status Update | Facebook
...is
starting to realize that her well organized house is not necessarily
the key to a well led life. Or more specifically, if I have to put one
more thing back in it's "right place" I may opt to just chuck it.
Friday, April 3, 2009
How Was Your Day, Dear?
Well, I'm sitting here at 10:41 with gas. Heinous, nauseating, like someone else was in the room and I'm now offending myself gas. And that's the best part of today.
Too personal?
Surely.
Oh god, I'm just tired.
I woke up and met with the siding guy. Got a quote and called my husband. Silence and "Explain to me again why we need siding ensues"
Not sure if I care. Yes the market is bad, yes jobs are bad, yes EVERYTHING out there is bad - so we aren't moving. Because it's risky. Which is what I have said all along but ok. Good. Because I didn't really want to. So the house should be sided. Why? because a) we can afford i b)it needs it and c)it's cheaper to do it now.
"I don't get it"
Really? ok, let me ask you this. When DO you side the house. What warning signals are we looking for? Rot? Wind blowing it off? Bigger holes? Is the fact that it's duotone important? Or the fact that the addition was put on in 1986 and THAT siding is different from the original house siding so all told the siding is at least 30 years old?
By now it's 9:30. My daughter is anxious - who was that man - and my nephew has stirred.
Oh look, a text message from his mom. His insurance was cancelled. For nonpayment.
Really? But we made 3 payments.
Online. Check Bill pay service. It's been paid. Hmm. Call insurance. call agent. Call Bill Pay. Get transferred. 3 calls later get Bill Pay again - correctly. Whoopsie. Problem with service. We are sorry. That's so rare. But these things happen. We'll credit your account.
Woman at the insurance agency says "I'll sign the form FOR you and fax it" We call back and other agent says "We can't do that." Much dialouge ensues. Nephew drives down with check and letter.
Oh wait. hang on. Can I go run an errand first. Let me pick up the babies Easter picture for grandma. Yes it's pouring. Yes, I called and you said the hours were from 10-6. i'm standing here at 1;30 locked out of your studio in the rain. Oh you didn't hear the bell? No worries. I'm fine. Just wet.
Let me take these pictures and go buy a frame. Wait in line at discount store. Oh, at the counter now. My wallet is the EXACT size of my phone. I thought my wallet was in my pocket. Be right back. Out into the rain. Back in. Frame for grandma.
Blow off afternoon playdate.
Lets make a copy of the picture for the easter card. The studio package doesn't allow for reprints - I wonder why? Nowhere on the paperwork. Oh well, no matter. i'll scan it at CVS and make cheap copies. They are throwaway fridge copies for the woman who work with Grandma at the food pantry.
In the rain. Park in tiny parking lot. Tramp UP store ramp through smokers. Wait. Photo girl on break. Wait. Machine needs to be rebooted. Wait. Machine broken. Try down the street.
Drive down street. Read disclaimers. Think it's ok as reprints are NOT offered at studio. Flat rate one time photo where SHE picks the shot. You don't get to see proofs, oder any others. She picks the shot and you get a call saying "Come get your tiny 5 print package" If it weren't for the live bunnies, I wouldn't do it at all. Read disclaimer again. Am safe. Scan photo. Print to rush. Need to wait 20 minutes. 18 in the clerk calls the manager. I get publically reprimanded for trying to steal copyprotected photos via nafarious reprinting ala the Walgreens manager.
Suitablly chastiused with my order discarded, tail between legs I go home.
To a messier house.
Really? Gone two hours and you called 3 times and it's messy? REALLY?
What do I want for dinner? Oh, you aren't hungry - big lunch? Great - so you can have your leftover Chinese then? No? Not in the mood? Um hmm. Ok.
Who called? Yes, I'll call her back.
Hi Stepmom. Your boss sucks? Umm hmm. He should have told you they were selling the business? Umm hmm. They owe you. Gotcha. You're angry. Righto. Nothing makes you happy. **pause briefly to wonder "Whenever did it"** You are just going to watch happy HGTV until everything goes your way. All Righty. You need to find a new job because your cut hours and your unemployment just aren't enough. Um hmm. Oh, and you won't be making brothers graduation because no new job will let you have the day off. I mention that you are't exactly sorting beads in China nor do you work for the Triangle shirt factory and she backs off. We hang up. I briefly contemplate my life as a adult daughter to three sets of parents. Married to a virtual only, with only a sister to support said parents. It's a crapshoot which one I end up with.
La la la
Call neighbor. Can you come over this weekend to discuss porch. Thanks
Other neighbor shows up at door. Discusses porch. Offeres suggestions. Neighborhood EXCITED about repairs. Thanks neighbors!
Sister in law emails. Discussion re: nephew. Um hmm. I'll email you back.
Baby cries. Hates Mommy and Daddy hugging or kissing. Yells "NO! MOMMY! MINE!" hits Daddy. Daddy fine. Mommy upset.
And it's not yet 6.
Oh I could go on. And I did. But why?
Too personal?
Surely.
Oh god, I'm just tired.
I woke up and met with the siding guy. Got a quote and called my husband. Silence and "Explain to me again why we need siding ensues"
Not sure if I care. Yes the market is bad, yes jobs are bad, yes EVERYTHING out there is bad - so we aren't moving. Because it's risky. Which is what I have said all along but ok. Good. Because I didn't really want to. So the house should be sided. Why? because a) we can afford i b)it needs it and c)it's cheaper to do it now.
"I don't get it"
Really? ok, let me ask you this. When DO you side the house. What warning signals are we looking for? Rot? Wind blowing it off? Bigger holes? Is the fact that it's duotone important? Or the fact that the addition was put on in 1986 and THAT siding is different from the original house siding so all told the siding is at least 30 years old?
By now it's 9:30. My daughter is anxious - who was that man - and my nephew has stirred.
Oh look, a text message from his mom. His insurance was cancelled. For nonpayment.
Really? But we made 3 payments.
Online. Check Bill pay service. It's been paid. Hmm. Call insurance. call agent. Call Bill Pay. Get transferred. 3 calls later get Bill Pay again - correctly. Whoopsie. Problem with service. We are sorry. That's so rare. But these things happen. We'll credit your account.
Woman at the insurance agency says "I'll sign the form FOR you and fax it" We call back and other agent says "We can't do that." Much dialouge ensues. Nephew drives down with check and letter.
Oh wait. hang on. Can I go run an errand first. Let me pick up the babies Easter picture for grandma. Yes it's pouring. Yes, I called and you said the hours were from 10-6. i'm standing here at 1;30 locked out of your studio in the rain. Oh you didn't hear the bell? No worries. I'm fine. Just wet.
Let me take these pictures and go buy a frame. Wait in line at discount store. Oh, at the counter now. My wallet is the EXACT size of my phone. I thought my wallet was in my pocket. Be right back. Out into the rain. Back in. Frame for grandma.
Blow off afternoon playdate.
Lets make a copy of the picture for the easter card. The studio package doesn't allow for reprints - I wonder why? Nowhere on the paperwork. Oh well, no matter. i'll scan it at CVS and make cheap copies. They are throwaway fridge copies for the woman who work with Grandma at the food pantry.
In the rain. Park in tiny parking lot. Tramp UP store ramp through smokers. Wait. Photo girl on break. Wait. Machine needs to be rebooted. Wait. Machine broken. Try down the street.
Drive down street. Read disclaimers. Think it's ok as reprints are NOT offered at studio. Flat rate one time photo where SHE picks the shot. You don't get to see proofs, oder any others. She picks the shot and you get a call saying "Come get your tiny 5 print package" If it weren't for the live bunnies, I wouldn't do it at all. Read disclaimer again. Am safe. Scan photo. Print to rush. Need to wait 20 minutes. 18 in the clerk calls the manager. I get publically reprimanded for trying to steal copyprotected photos via nafarious reprinting ala the Walgreens manager.
Suitablly chastiused with my order discarded, tail between legs I go home.
To a messier house.
Really? Gone two hours and you called 3 times and it's messy? REALLY?
What do I want for dinner? Oh, you aren't hungry - big lunch? Great - so you can have your leftover Chinese then? No? Not in the mood? Um hmm. Ok.
Who called? Yes, I'll call her back.
Hi Stepmom. Your boss sucks? Umm hmm. He should have told you they were selling the business? Umm hmm. They owe you. Gotcha. You're angry. Righto. Nothing makes you happy. **pause briefly to wonder "Whenever did it"** You are just going to watch happy HGTV until everything goes your way. All Righty. You need to find a new job because your cut hours and your unemployment just aren't enough. Um hmm. Oh, and you won't be making brothers graduation because no new job will let you have the day off. I mention that you are't exactly sorting beads in China nor do you work for the Triangle shirt factory and she backs off. We hang up. I briefly contemplate my life as a adult daughter to three sets of parents. Married to a virtual only, with only a sister to support said parents. It's a crapshoot which one I end up with.
La la la
Call neighbor. Can you come over this weekend to discuss porch. Thanks
Other neighbor shows up at door. Discusses porch. Offeres suggestions. Neighborhood EXCITED about repairs. Thanks neighbors!
Sister in law emails. Discussion re: nephew. Um hmm. I'll email you back.
Baby cries. Hates Mommy and Daddy hugging or kissing. Yells "NO! MOMMY! MINE!" hits Daddy. Daddy fine. Mommy upset.
And it's not yet 6.
Oh I could go on. And I did. But why?
Thursday, April 2, 2009
All Quiet on the Western Front
"Where ya been? Everything ok?"
Yes thank you. We weren't verbose this March. Is there a word for verbose that means the written word? I mean, we were verbose. As in we strung letters into words into sentences as if our lives depended on it, but not much was committed to print.
I talked a lot this month. 2400 plus minutes on the cell phone. Reserve 9 hours of the day for sleep, or just too damn late/early to call, and there you have 15. 31 days on the month, divised into the minutes used averaged across so many hours (or more specifically in excel "=(2400/31)/15" and you get upwards of 5 hours a day. On the phone. ON THE PHONE.
And not all me talking.
Oh sure, I went to Connecticut, West Connecticut if that's such a place, and into New York twice, so there was a good 16 hours of phone time, and Crazy Anna's HIV has developed into full blown AIDS so there was a number of phone calls to that party as well. I talked to moms: mine, his and my peer moms, I talked to friends: old, new and obligatory maintenance. I talked to my cousin, my nephew, my stepmother, the neighbor, the other neighbor, the neighbors daughter, her other daughter. I talked. I listened.
It was a long month.
I started coaching. A friend. Daily affirmations and tracking. A peer review of her goal meeting techniques. Messages at night and in the morning. It was the first month of Facebook - as in "Who the ^%#@# are you and how did you find me and yes, let's send each other a long chatty email about what we've done the last few, has it been 16 really, years" I started Shredding (Jillian Michaels 30 day program.) Did about 22 days, quit, started again last night. Along with Weight Watchers.
My nephew sleeps on the couch occasionally and my daughter is turning two. As in "Let's cut me some teeth and cry a bit and whine a bit more and lose our smile for a week at a time" And she's lovely, and wonderful, and willful. But I'm spending inordinate amounts of time reprimanding sharply "EL-eanor. Bums on chair. Eleanor, milk off the couch. Eleanor, do NOT hit Daddy." And on it goes.
We're looking at having the porch torn off - it's a piece of crap.
We need to find a jelly cabinet for shoes - the kitchen is becoming a jumble shoe sale.
Some things bugged me, a lot of things. Some things were wonderful. I think my husband disappointed me, which was really a first for us, so that sort of threw me, and then a few times I disappointed myself, and that threw me too.
So here it is in a nutshell. All the blogs I didn't blog about. Pertained to - in no particular order but, you know, the calendar:
MID TO LATE FEB
Our bed breaks (actually two years ago) and we finally take advantage of the warrenty and have said bed removed. Full refund. Still sleeping on smaller guest bed.
END OF FEB - THE WEDDING SHOWER-
I went to a wedding shower and:
- a. thought about the fact that we eloped vs had a traditional wedding
- b. said something so ackward that I cringe today thinking about it
and
- c. was thrown by a very casual comment from a friend loosely translated to: she was surprised that I hadn't erred in my behavior more.
EARLY MARCH
- I babysat a friends child and discover a dynamic heretofore undiscovered between the two. Her child and mine. It was, and remains, an interesting conundrum for me.
- I start peer coaching a friend.
- I start exercising.
- I visit NY and, while happy to see a good friend, regret some of the reminders of the things I've lost being a wife and mother.
- We discuss purchasing a new home. We discuss refinancing. We discuss the shitall nature of our broken down porch and why it isn't a priority for my husband.
MIDMARCH
- My child broke through about 4 teeth in a three week window. Arghhhhhh much?
- The porch becomes an issue and two weeks plus are spent fighting my husband about what type of homeowners ne people we really are ensues. I fix before it breaks, he fixes after. Meaning I am responsible for managing the fix after. See: disappointment in husband as referenced above.
- I contemplate sleeping on the couch but my nephew is there first.
- Waiting for inlaws to paint. See disappointment in inlaws as related to husband as referenced above.
- Make appt and show up for mamogram. Am told to leave. Cannot have one until period is due. No xrays if theres a chance you could be pregnant. Huh? "Well, did you HAVE unprotected sex???" Well, um, yeah, if you put it like that. I guess so....
MIDMARCH
- My nephew stays over with more frequency
- My couch begins to smell like nephew
- My husband increasingly ecomes very Darren Stevens as played by Dick Sargent and boorish and neanderthal in terms of being "the man". Expectations are increasingly ridiculous. Husband deserves bitch slap.
- Am increasingly busy with child related playdates, home visitors and babysitting here and there.
- Stepmothers hours get reduced. Endure her laments of dismay. Think to self: perhaps you could use the extra time and clean your house then.Keep mouth shut. Ignore calls.
- Mother also annoying. Compulsively overworking at not very important job. Start to ignore her calls.
- Become tired of people and their excuses.
- Husband chastises wife for being intolerant of "lazy excuse making people"
- Become disenfranchised with some people as a whole
- Start yardsaling again. Bright light shines. happy happy happy. Have good friend and love yardsaling with her. Light shines brightly. Forgive people for sucking.
Late March
- Take matters into own hands. Start calling contractors. Ignore husband. Pretend to listen. Sorry it's come to this. He still deserves a bitch slap.
- Enjoying America Idol less.
- Sort all clothes again. Baby growing like weed. No longer a baby. Sigh.
- inundated with things to do. Start scaling back. Home life is full of conversations daily. Nephew organizing life. Financial talks, credit talks, resolving issues, discussing issues. Am tired at home thus tired outside of home.
- Crying for no reason frequently. Old ladies alone in the grocery store cause tears. Crying at the sheep festival because the sky is so blue, crying because I like the song on the radio. Cry cry cry. Pregnant? No. PreMenopause? No thanks.
Later Still In March
_ Husband lucky wife loves him. Wife goes to bed when Kathy Bates in Dlores Claybourne phrases start popping into head. Husband annoyed.
- Friends friends friends. Social social social.
- Need sleep desperately.
April
- Child is better. Saw a real smile. Nose is one month running but hope is on the horizon.
- 1st week of ww - lost 3.lbs or so.
Presently
Getting icecream and flashlight. Icecream for a snack. Flashlight to read in bed.
Note to self: need nightlight.
Yes thank you. We weren't verbose this March. Is there a word for verbose that means the written word? I mean, we were verbose. As in we strung letters into words into sentences as if our lives depended on it, but not much was committed to print.
I talked a lot this month. 2400 plus minutes on the cell phone. Reserve 9 hours of the day for sleep, or just too damn late/early to call, and there you have 15. 31 days on the month, divised into the minutes used averaged across so many hours (or more specifically in excel "=(2400/31)/15" and you get upwards of 5 hours a day. On the phone. ON THE PHONE.
And not all me talking.
Oh sure, I went to Connecticut, West Connecticut if that's such a place, and into New York twice, so there was a good 16 hours of phone time, and Crazy Anna's HIV has developed into full blown AIDS so there was a number of phone calls to that party as well. I talked to moms: mine, his and my peer moms, I talked to friends: old, new and obligatory maintenance. I talked to my cousin, my nephew, my stepmother, the neighbor, the other neighbor, the neighbors daughter, her other daughter. I talked. I listened.
It was a long month.
I started coaching. A friend. Daily affirmations and tracking. A peer review of her goal meeting techniques. Messages at night and in the morning. It was the first month of Facebook - as in "Who the ^%#@# are you and how did you find me and yes, let's send each other a long chatty email about what we've done the last few, has it been 16 really, years" I started Shredding (Jillian Michaels 30 day program.) Did about 22 days, quit, started again last night. Along with Weight Watchers.
My nephew sleeps on the couch occasionally and my daughter is turning two. As in "Let's cut me some teeth and cry a bit and whine a bit more and lose our smile for a week at a time" And she's lovely, and wonderful, and willful. But I'm spending inordinate amounts of time reprimanding sharply "EL-eanor. Bums on chair. Eleanor, milk off the couch. Eleanor, do NOT hit Daddy." And on it goes.
We're looking at having the porch torn off - it's a piece of crap.
We need to find a jelly cabinet for shoes - the kitchen is becoming a jumble shoe sale.
Some things bugged me, a lot of things. Some things were wonderful. I think my husband disappointed me, which was really a first for us, so that sort of threw me, and then a few times I disappointed myself, and that threw me too.
So here it is in a nutshell. All the blogs I didn't blog about. Pertained to - in no particular order but, you know, the calendar:
MID TO LATE FEB
Our bed breaks (actually two years ago) and we finally take advantage of the warrenty and have said bed removed. Full refund. Still sleeping on smaller guest bed.
END OF FEB - THE WEDDING SHOWER-
I went to a wedding shower and:
- a. thought about the fact that we eloped vs had a traditional wedding
- b. said something so ackward that I cringe today thinking about it
and
- c. was thrown by a very casual comment from a friend loosely translated to: she was surprised that I hadn't erred in my behavior more.
EARLY MARCH
- I babysat a friends child and discover a dynamic heretofore undiscovered between the two. Her child and mine. It was, and remains, an interesting conundrum for me.
- I start peer coaching a friend.
- I start exercising.
- I visit NY and, while happy to see a good friend, regret some of the reminders of the things I've lost being a wife and mother.
- We discuss purchasing a new home. We discuss refinancing. We discuss the shitall nature of our broken down porch and why it isn't a priority for my husband.
MIDMARCH
- My child broke through about 4 teeth in a three week window. Arghhhhhh much?
- The porch becomes an issue and two weeks plus are spent fighting my husband about what type of homeowners ne people we really are ensues. I fix before it breaks, he fixes after. Meaning I am responsible for managing the fix after. See: disappointment in husband as referenced above.
- I contemplate sleeping on the couch but my nephew is there first.
- Waiting for inlaws to paint. See disappointment in inlaws as related to husband as referenced above.
- Make appt and show up for mamogram. Am told to leave. Cannot have one until period is due. No xrays if theres a chance you could be pregnant. Huh? "Well, did you HAVE unprotected sex???" Well, um, yeah, if you put it like that. I guess so....
MIDMARCH
- My nephew stays over with more frequency
- My couch begins to smell like nephew
- My husband increasingly ecomes very Darren Stevens as played by Dick Sargent and boorish and neanderthal in terms of being "the man". Expectations are increasingly ridiculous. Husband deserves bitch slap.
- Am increasingly busy with child related playdates, home visitors and babysitting here and there.
- Stepmothers hours get reduced. Endure her laments of dismay. Think to self: perhaps you could use the extra time and clean your house then.Keep mouth shut. Ignore calls.
- Mother also annoying. Compulsively overworking at not very important job. Start to ignore her calls.
- Become tired of people and their excuses.
- Husband chastises wife for being intolerant of "lazy excuse making people"
- Become disenfranchised with some people as a whole
- Start yardsaling again. Bright light shines. happy happy happy. Have good friend and love yardsaling with her. Light shines brightly. Forgive people for sucking.
Late March
- Take matters into own hands. Start calling contractors. Ignore husband. Pretend to listen. Sorry it's come to this. He still deserves a bitch slap.
- Enjoying America Idol less.
- Sort all clothes again. Baby growing like weed. No longer a baby. Sigh.
- inundated with things to do. Start scaling back. Home life is full of conversations daily. Nephew organizing life. Financial talks, credit talks, resolving issues, discussing issues. Am tired at home thus tired outside of home.
- Crying for no reason frequently. Old ladies alone in the grocery store cause tears. Crying at the sheep festival because the sky is so blue, crying because I like the song on the radio. Cry cry cry. Pregnant? No. PreMenopause? No thanks.
Later Still In March
_ Husband lucky wife loves him. Wife goes to bed when Kathy Bates in Dlores Claybourne phrases start popping into head. Husband annoyed.
- Friends friends friends. Social social social.
- Need sleep desperately.
April
- Child is better. Saw a real smile. Nose is one month running but hope is on the horizon.
- 1st week of ww - lost 3.lbs or so.
Presently
Getting icecream and flashlight. Icecream for a snack. Flashlight to read in bed.
Note to self: need nightlight.
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