I only wish I could turn back the hands of time and give myself another 5 years, 10 years of knowing what I know now - and actually using the knowledge.
My sister works for a dance studio. A popular one that turns a modest profit, very modest in fact because there's no money in it but it's well run and leaves a legacy of love and love for dance in it's wake. Last year I put together a program guide for it's recital, partially out of affection for my sister who(m?) I didn't want taking it on herself, partially because I knew it would be expensive to outsource and partially because...well... it's something I know how to do with little effort. Takes time though, but not a ton of effort. I did it, they loved it, and I charged her a token $150. Not because I needed the money but because it's always a good practice not to work for free.
And given I built the template, I figured I'd offer this year. Again not for the money, but for the fact that it's an easy cut and paste. Although I have less time. No time. ZERO time.
People ask me why. Why do you do things for free, for other people. Is it the need to be loved? Admired? Liked? Glorified?
To which I always say no. Honestly.
And myriad years of therapy of soul searching or life experience have taught me this.
I truly believe that if you can, you do.
If you have, you give.
And that if you teach a man to fish., he'll be set for life.
Or so I thought.
Because after swapping emails with the studio owner, I further realized that she's complicated. And that she's going to complicate my life over it. And that it's not going to be a simple cut and paste, it's going to be work.
So I'm about to tell her that I think she needs to turn it over to someone else. With my blessings. And this is the beginning of a new, unhappy dawn for me.
The truth is: she doesn't need me to do it. It would make her life easier, I'd be cheaper...but she can get it done without me.
The fact is: I need to stop because I can no longer judge correctly.
Recently I paid the insurance ill for my crazy HIV shutin. It was$65? $70? She didn't ask - I offered and I paid it with nostrings. Because I see her struggling and I know that money is something I have. And although there were no strings what I am starting to realize is that there are strings, that I am placing - in jugement. Because last week she let me know that she picked up 3 cartons of cigarettes at the store because quitting was just too hard. 3 cartons. Equaling roughly the amount of an insurance payment.
See I thought when people asked for help that they too intended to work towards making their life better. I though we were paddling the canoe.
But it appears they were looking for a break from paddling. Which is cool, for fucks sake I get that everyone needs a break, but honestly? I have twin fucking children and a three year old and a husband that gets home at 7. We are BUSTING our asses to stay current with our own obligations. I freely give time to anyone that needs it, because I hear you say "I'm desperate, I've tried everything, I'm scared, I need help" But when help arrives? The human condition throws up their collective hands and breathes a sigh of relief. AND STOPS WORKING.
Wow. And that's fair to me.... how?
I had a friend confide in me recently that she was concerned about money troubles. She wants to sell some things, edit out somethings, consolidate some bills. She's not far off track and can and will turn it around. So we talked we strategized. We solved for x by deciding on y. Or Y Not. As in Why don't we do this, this, and that. I offered to help. I'll write ads, I'll post with her etc. All she needs to do is gather and inventory her things by such and such date and time.
Which she didn't.
Because she was busy.
So my point is this, if YOU are too busy to do it, why am I staying up past midnight to meet an obligation to you? I am offering up my time - which retails for about $35 an hour, or $90 if I was a contractor for my old company. Maybe $60 given the economy. I have expertise, passion know how and I'm effective.
But I'm not LOOKING for work.
If you are down, in the gutter, on the ground, saying you need a hand up - shit, I'm not going to walk by you.
But let me say this:
Don't tell me you are broke, and then text me from your iphone.
Don't tell me you need my help getting organized, then let me see you crafting.
Don't tell me you have no time to pick up a bag at my house, but you have time to post on facebook.
Don't tell me you have nowhere else to go, to turn to, no way to get it done, no hope for yourself, your project, your lot in life - but you have time to sleep.
Because I don't.
So don't ask for help - or take my help - and fuck MY family in the process, so you can watch your reality shows.
Just don't.
Because I'm on to you
And you're pissing me off.
.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Saturday, February 5, 2011
jolly jumper
here's the thing about having a child that takes an oral steroid for 4 months...
they don't sleep.
Hardly ever.
so at 12, at 2, at 3;30 then at 5, you are up. Then up at 6. Then 7. Life's a constant mission to harness the energy and deal with the irritability.
Your husband sleeps in one room with one baby on the bed. One baby that has something wrong, tongue or GI, undiagnosed because he is still gaining, but something that makes him unable to eat food at 6 months. So you feed him by bottle every two hours. Every day. Almost since birth. Regardless of the clock. That son sleeps with Daddy.
The other child, Sumo, Chubby, The Big One, Tubby, sleeps with you. loosely. the sleeping part. so you find yourself up. All night. For 6 months. Plus the several before when you were so pregnant with twins that sleep was impossible. I would wager that I have been up - sporadically - virtually round the clock since last April.
It effects my speech, my decision process, my metabolism. It effects every choice, every reaction.
Forget tired.
Forget the fact that I have aged so much, so so much in these last months.
Forget all that.
What's impossible is functioning while awake.
Yet today was the same.
Up ungodly early, make lunch for Girl, dress all three for preschool dropoff (by 9 thank you), cross town for craigslist stroller purchase, home to deice driveway, feed boys, out to shovel again, dress boys in afternoon clothes (morning vomit and pee buildup on prior outfits) ALL to bowling alley for Girl to have some physical activity, home then for more feedings. Nothing cleaned, nothing sorted, all alive. Phone calls today to tenants - who are renting our house come July 1, to Early Intervention to reschedule because their visit conflicts with the boys surgery date, to 3 sets of parents to arrange childcare/visits and update medical status, phone call to crazy HIV positive godmother to help arrange Section 8 certification paperwork. Snacks, dinner, bottles and dishes. I never left the 13x13 comfort of the kitchen save for my car.
I know this is parenting. I get it. I get that everyone has things they do.
But I always thought I'd have babies and that's it. Id work at it. I didn't think that having them, 6 months in, would consume everything else in it's path.
Managing.
Existing.
Not wishing time away, but wishing for the hemangioma to shrink so we can get baby off the steroids, for the system to mature, for the baby to stop throwing up, for the tongue to grow, for baby to eat...wishing for the next few weeks to pass so their tiny surgeries pass and another milestone can be reached. Wishing for snow to melt (slowly dear god slowly please because the water, much like Richard Gere in Officer and a Gentlemen, has no place left to go) so I can walk outside. Wishing for a lot of things but wishing more then anything for her children to sleep. Because with sleep, anything is possible.
Instead I stand at a crowded kitchen counter.
Listening to the sound of springs and rattles.
And Tiny Teddy bouncing in his jumper at 3:30 am.
Because I need to tire that son of a gun out.
bounce m'fcker bounce
they don't sleep.
Hardly ever.
so at 12, at 2, at 3;30 then at 5, you are up. Then up at 6. Then 7. Life's a constant mission to harness the energy and deal with the irritability.
Your husband sleeps in one room with one baby on the bed. One baby that has something wrong, tongue or GI, undiagnosed because he is still gaining, but something that makes him unable to eat food at 6 months. So you feed him by bottle every two hours. Every day. Almost since birth. Regardless of the clock. That son sleeps with Daddy.
The other child, Sumo, Chubby, The Big One, Tubby, sleeps with you. loosely. the sleeping part. so you find yourself up. All night. For 6 months. Plus the several before when you were so pregnant with twins that sleep was impossible. I would wager that I have been up - sporadically - virtually round the clock since last April.
It effects my speech, my decision process, my metabolism. It effects every choice, every reaction.
Forget tired.
Forget the fact that I have aged so much, so so much in these last months.
Forget all that.
What's impossible is functioning while awake.
Yet today was the same.
Up ungodly early, make lunch for Girl, dress all three for preschool dropoff (by 9 thank you), cross town for craigslist stroller purchase, home to deice driveway, feed boys, out to shovel again, dress boys in afternoon clothes (morning vomit and pee buildup on prior outfits) ALL to bowling alley for Girl to have some physical activity, home then for more feedings. Nothing cleaned, nothing sorted, all alive. Phone calls today to tenants - who are renting our house come July 1, to Early Intervention to reschedule because their visit conflicts with the boys surgery date, to 3 sets of parents to arrange childcare/visits and update medical status, phone call to crazy HIV positive godmother to help arrange Section 8 certification paperwork. Snacks, dinner, bottles and dishes. I never left the 13x13 comfort of the kitchen save for my car.
I know this is parenting. I get it. I get that everyone has things they do.
But I always thought I'd have babies and that's it. Id work at it. I didn't think that having them, 6 months in, would consume everything else in it's path.
Managing.
Existing.
Not wishing time away, but wishing for the hemangioma to shrink so we can get baby off the steroids, for the system to mature, for the baby to stop throwing up, for the tongue to grow, for baby to eat...wishing for the next few weeks to pass so their tiny surgeries pass and another milestone can be reached. Wishing for snow to melt (slowly dear god slowly please because the water, much like Richard Gere in Officer and a Gentlemen, has no place left to go) so I can walk outside. Wishing for a lot of things but wishing more then anything for her children to sleep. Because with sleep, anything is possible.
Instead I stand at a crowded kitchen counter.
Listening to the sound of springs and rattles.
And Tiny Teddy bouncing in his jumper at 3:30 am.
Because I need to tire that son of a gun out.
bounce m'fcker bounce
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
soup
wtf I do all day...
There's nothing fancy about either of these - in fact they are practically the same soup - but so so simple. They are good "throw them on the stove" soups served with tomato & mozerella salad & crusty bread..
There's nothing fancy about either of these - in fact they are practically the same soup - but so so simple. They are good "throw them on the stove" soups served with tomato & mozerella salad & crusty bread..
Football Season Sausage Soup
1.5 lbs hot ground sausage
1.5 lbs of sweet ground sausage
1.5 lbs hot ground sausage
1.5 lbs of sweet ground sausage
(or weight hot/sweet to taste)1 lg can of crushed tomatoes
1 large white onion diced
2 cloves of garlic minced
1 lg green pepper diced
32oz of beef broth
1.5 cups of red wine (may add more if wanted)
1.5 tsp of italian seasonings (oragano, parsley, basil mix)
pinch or salt and pepper
1 large white onion diced
2 cloves of garlic minced
1 lg green pepper diced
32oz of beef broth
1.5 cups of red wine (may add more if wanted)
1.5 tsp of italian seasonings (oragano, parsley, basil mix)
pinch or salt and pepper
dash hot pepper flakes
One box of Dilatini Pasta
Brown sausage and break it into small pieces with a fork while browning.
Saute onion, pepper and garlic in a large pot with EVOO
Add all remaining ingredients including sausage to the pot.
Simmer 2 hrs
Cook pasta separately and add to each bowl when serving. - Mel
One box of Dilatini Pasta
Brown sausage and break it into small pieces with a fork while browning.
Saute onion, pepper and garlic in a large pot with EVOO
Add all remaining ingredients including sausage to the pot.
Simmer 2 hrs
Cook pasta separately and add to each bowl when serving. - Mel
Football Season Chicken Soup
1. You will need 1 or 2 chicken breasts, cooked. I usually just salt and pepper it..and baked it in the oven while I prepare the soup. you could even just use a store bought rottissuire chicken for the meat...however you get the chicken...you just need it cooked and shredded once the soup is prepared.
2. The soup- In a large heavy sauce pan on medium heat
-cover bottom of pan with olive oil and add 2 minced fresh garlic cloves...saute for a minute or two
-add 1 or 2 medium yellow onion, 1 summer squash (yellow), 1 zuccini, and 1 cup of fresh green beans. Saute for 2 minutes. All veggies should be chopped to bite size pieces. Add a pinch of salt and pepper to veggies. ***Deb's note: I added CannelliniCannellini beans and omitted 1 squash
-Add a LARGE can of Beef broth...or 3 small cans ...whatever you have is fine!
-Add one large can Hunts Tomatoe Sauce (28oz)
-Add italian Seasonings i.e. sweet basil, oregano, etc..salt pepper to taste
-Add 2 tbls of Sugar.
-Add 2 tbls Parmesan Cheese
- Let soup Simmer for a min. of 1 hour..the longer it simmers the better. Add the chicken shredded anytime after the first hour.
Lastly, prepare bowtie pasta...I do not recommend adding your pasta directly to the pot, it absorbs most of the broth. I usually add the pasta to individual servings. THat way I can save the leftovers.
for tomorrow!!! PS. You can use whatever pasta you like...but I recommend a sturdy pasta that can handle sitting in all the liquid. The kids love the mini or reg bowties! ALSO....Add more of the cheese to taste!!! Enjoy! Sha-
Crafty
actual email written to friends today...
So Ellie and I have been rocking the handmade, homemade birthday gifts this year. Starting with Ciara, every child is getting a tshirt in a bold color with a reverseout of their names and various appliques. It's very "Old Navy" and UBER cute. Involves painstakingly picking out letters, peeling and sticking, a true labor of love. I dont mind ruining the surprise for all of you when I say your kid IS getting one of these tshirts this year. Sorry! So Ellie's is cute, Ciara's is A-Mazing and i have Andrew's, Owens, Tommy's and Emily's in que. All prepurchased and ready to go.
So tonight we sit down and do Andrews and Tommy's. Red shirt? CHECK. Curlique type letters? Check check. Bottle of bleach? Yup. Full wash basin, yepper. Peel stick...PEEL stick, make dinner, babies cry, peel stick. and viola! They are ready to roll. Off I go to the basement, rubber gloves, utility sink, SPRAY bleach. And squirt. Squit, mist, spray... And peel again, careful not to drip bleach. Rinse after 1 minute, wait, wash alone, wait and gently pull OUT of the washbasin.
Imagine my surprise.
When the COOLEST rockin Red Shirt Ever was revealed in all it's glory.
Because as any fool knows, when you bleach a red shirt.....
Megan, April, ...I'm sorry.
And I know it's not pc but...
your kids getting the GAYEST pink shirt ever.
Looking forward to seeing it at the playground.
Love, Ellie's Mom.
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