In Which I Stomp My Feet And Pout

It's Rodeo time here in wonderful, oh-my-god-is-really-90-in-Feb Tucson. Schools are shut down, which caused momentary panic, but Monkey Man has the time off too. Yeah! I don't have to lock the boys in a closet to keep myself from going insane! Monkey Man actually had to take the time off as his company tries to save money so they won't have to have a layoff, but I'm focusing on the positive. I get help with the kids, and he still has a job. Everybody wins!

We took a walk/bike ride/scooter ride as a family this morning. Family time? Not spent in front of a TV? Crazy. It was so much fun, I was grinning like a fool the entire time. Seems like this is something we should do more often. But in some sort of bizarre, upside-down way, it's often difficult to make ourselves do the things that bring us more joy. I'm working on that.

I've been spending some of my copious amounts of free time reading the archives over at The Happiness Project. Ms. Rubin's ideas about feeling good, feeling bad, and feeling right really resonate with me. Just like most depressives, I spend a lot of time and energy avoiding feeling bad (which sounds counterintuitive; that's why they call it crazy) and end up never feeling right.

This manifests in my daily life when I avoid doing all those little tasks that would greatly increase my satisfaction with life. Taking the dog for a walk, washing my face before I go to bed, blogging. I won't even start the discussion about exercising and eating better. Because (cue 3 yr old whiny voice), "I'm too tired... I deserve this treat... I DON'T WANT TO!" Yes it's true, being depressed often feels like having a very bad tempered 3 year old in your head all.the.time. And when she and the uber-critical Super Bitch start fighting...well it's really no wonder that getting out of bed just seems impossible some days.

So I created a list of 11 things I'd like to do on a daily basis that will increase my sense of feeling right, and I'm tracking them. I hope that developing these better habits will not only give me more satisfaction but also lead to further development of good habits. Even when I.don't.want.to! Habits like taking a family walk?

In Which I Decide to Be...Fine

Do you ever not know how you're doing? It used to be an easy question for me. Mostly I did crappy. Not that I ever shared that. My answer was usually, good. Or fine. Or some other not-helpful word that generally means, "Thank you for pretending to care by asking me how I'm doing but I'll be damned if I'm exposing my feelings to you."

And how are you doing today?

I had the double whammy of psychiatrist and psychologist sessions this afternoon. I'd been fretting since yesterday that when they asked how I was, I wouldn't know how to answer. Because they're really not keen on that whole "fine" thing. Geez, do I have to do all the work around here?. To be fair, I pay them to force me to be honest. Hmmm, that's sort of f'ed up when you think about it that way. So I decided to depend on their professional opinions.

Turns out I'm doing pretty good. Meds are doing what they're supposed to be doing. I seem to have fewer side effects than with the Zoloft. Although withrawal is much worse. Not that I did it on purpose. I'm just forgetful. You would think the spinning rooms and massive headaches would be a good reminder. Turns out I'm not nearly as bright as I like to think I am.

Anyhoo. My 20 year high school reunion is in June. And I've got way too much emotional baggage being dumped in my psyche for me to believe that, as I like to claim, I just don't give a rat's ass. And when I realized that, I started beating myself up for not getting on with my life. 20 years? It's time to move on, damn it.

Why Are You Crying, Mommy?

Last week, while the boys were in the bathtub, Quake holds up the baby shampoo/soap* and says, "Mommy, can Cha-Cha use this soap?"


"Sure. Wait, why?"


"Because I want to wash his hair."


So I helped him wet Cha-Cha's hair, and he went to washing the baby's hair. He's on his knees, massaging the shampoo on Cha-Cha's head, saying, "Does that feel good, Cha?" I only cried a little bit.


*method baby squeaky green hair + body wash in rice milk + mallow - love it! You know I'm cheap so this must be fabulous if I'm willing to pay for it. It doesn't have that cloying baby powder smell, and the lid is a cup

Okapi Dreams

Last night I dreamt of okapis. Seriously. A whole herd of them going through my backyard at dusk. I'd love to tell you that I had recently being reading about this strange creature, but I haven't. No, my mind managed to dredge up this bizarre little tidbit all by itself.

In the West it was once believed that okapis were a mythological creature. Or at least extinct.

So as far as dream interpretation goes, either something once hidden will be revealed, or I'm moving to central Africa.

They're Getting More Than My Blue Eyes

Earlier this week Cha-Cha ran off in the general direction of his brother at the school playground, and I lost sight of him. It's an entirely enclosed area, but Cha-Cha has a bad habit of wandering into any open door and joining the class in progress. I asked Quake where Cha-Cha went. The response? Not what I was expecting.

"He got in the car and drove away."

Yeah, go ahead, laugh it up. I did. It's hilarious. My own smart mouth has come back to bite my own smart ass.

Quake has since made several attempts at repeating the performance with little success. Until last night. When asked, "Hey, Quake, do you know where the remote control's at?" he barely pretends to acknowledge our existence, he says, "Cha-Cha put it in the toilet."

I'm so proud. Is that wrong?

Officially a Cliche

Life as I once knew it has come to an end. I am a...

Soccer mom!

Quake had his first practice Wednesday night and his games start next week. Oy. He's playing with the 5 and 6 year olds even though he doesn't turn 5 until April. He's still one of the three tallest on his team, but he's no longer the fastest. Athletics come quite easily to him - he totally gets that from me. Well, me in a previous life maybe. Shut up! It's my dream. The competition will be good for him. If it doesn't utterly destroy him. Just saying.

High waisted jeans, here I come...woohoo!

Closer to Home

Yesterday the bad news about the economy came knocking on our door. Monkey Man will be taking a 7% decrease in pay for at least the next 6 months. I am so grateful that he still has a job. And I can stop beating myself up about not feeling like we can afford to put Quake into private school next year...because there's no question about it now!

It's amazing how having kids has changed my view of the little things. Like recessions. I can no longer listen to or watch any news reports that talk about the economy. It just sends me into a tailspin. So now I can't watch TV or movies that use the abuse or neglect of kids as a narrative device, and I can't watch the news.

Cool. More time to persue my own personal growth as a human being who is not only a parent. Or more SpongeBob. Whatever.