Wednesday, Bread, & Alphabets

Joining "A Year With Myself"

2012-01-25T19:47:00.001-08:00

This is the 1st step.

Not really, of course, dramatic narrative aside. I have been on this path, or a path, for a very long time now, years of steps bringing me to this place. So it is Another Step, the Next Step, but maybe not just <i>any step</i>. Because this year I want to point myself toward that proverbial cliff, shut my eyes, and start running for the edge.

Just me and the sky and a wholly uncertain faith.

While my hands have been busy lately with a cross-stitch project or finger knitting or clicking away on Pinterest, my mind has been watching a vision dance about, some sort of journal or scrapbook about my journey with mental illness. Just imaging myself creatively embracing the very thing I have spent so much time and energy hiding makes my heart pound and my stomach churn. Even those words, 'mental illness' are something I instinctively want to deny.

So I'm thumbing through my piles of self-help/self-discovery books, digging through the Internet to find all the treasures floating about, and signing up to receive an email every week from <a href='http://ayearwithmyself.com/' target='_self'>A Year With Myself</a>. A few weeks late. Of course. It may end up being a few years with myself...

And after letting another week pass before finally reading through the Week One material, I find these questions from <a href='http://www.37days.com/' target='_self'>Ms. Digh</a>...

"What spaces are you standing between? Now, and then? Here, and there? Whole, and broken?"

In a few weeks I will turn 40 - now, and then. Less then 6 months ago I moved from the Southwest to the Northwest - here, and there. Just over a year ago a got a new diagnosis, and with it, treatment that might finally be working - whole, and broken.

I don't think we were meant to take the assignment so literally, but I always was kiss ass.

But the <a href='http://ayearwithmyself.com/instigators/' target='_self'>Instigators</a> weren't done messing with me yet.

<a href='http://jenniferlouden.com/blog/' target='_self'>Jennifer Louden</a> asks, "What gifts do the parts of me I don't like have to offer me? What gifts could the parts of me I'm afraid of have to offer me?"

I fear <i>exposure</i>. The shining of a bright and unblinking light on all the dark and musty places, the hidden spaces. Making myself available for snarky comments and petty (or not so petty) criticisms, or worse - indifference.

Because I am still broken.

And I am already whole.

No Flights Out of Yuma

2012-01-15T09:57:00.000-08:00

I thoroughly enjoyed our holiday in Arizona. We left Portland really early and had a long lay-over in LA, so we were pretty tired when got to Yuma Christmas Eve. But my mother-in-law took the boys to church, and Monkey Man and I managed to get all our presents wrapped before falling asleep amid the ribbons.

Now for a little bragging... I scored this Johnathon Adler book, this amazing journaling book which I've barely dipped into, three (!) of these fabulous scarves, and this manicure kit which I'm hoping to try out today (because we woke up to snow, and coffee and a manicure is my idea of a perfect way to spend a snow day). I also made over a dozen of these headbands for one of my nieces, and frankly, almost an entire day spent absorbed in craft project with no interruption from children is a little slice of heaven.

Maybe all that Christmas goodness should have been a warning...

Monkey Man had intended to take the boys to the sand dunes, but my step mother-in-law got sick (and is still not well, good thoughts are greatly appreciated) so the usual New Year's trip fell through. Monkey Man is not so good with the sitting around and being lazy thing. He got bored, called the airline, and switched our tickets so we could leave a day early.

Maybe I should have told him not to break his mother's heart...

It was getting late when got to the Yuma airport that Friday night; we wouldn't land in Portland until after midnight. We hoped the boys would sleep most of the way and hoped we might actually get some sleep since Monkey Man got us upgraded to first class. But when we tried to check in, the attendant told us the flight from Yuma was delayed 1.5 hours - we probably wouldn't make our connection in LA. I laughed a little at Monkey Man. All the drama of getting ready to leave a day early was all for naught. We rescheduled back to our original plans.

Maybe I shouldn't have laughed...

It was late again Saturday night - same flight, different day. My mother-in-law had put noise makers and shiny party hats in my backpack so we could celebrate the New Year even if we were 30,000 feet in the air. Yuma, perhaps it goes without saying, is a small airport. They don't put you through security until they're almost ready to load the plane. We got through security, bought a couple of waters from the vending machine, and made faces at my mother-in-law through the glass because she was waiting until the last moment to leave. And thank goodness she did because just as the bags were being loaded into the belly of the plane, the flight was canceled.

And there were no available seats to leave Yuma until Monday.

At this point it was already feeling like a Stephen King miniseries. But it wasn't over yet.

Because when we got to the airport on Monday morning, that flight was canceled too.

And there were no more available seats to leave Yuma until... Thursday.

I know I've read too many horror novels because I couldn't help thinking, "This is how it starts."

We did manage to leave Yuma on Monday, but it required my aunt-in-law borrowing my mother-in-law's truck to take us to San Diego where we all spent the night in a hotel so we could catch an early morning flight from there, and from San Diego we flew to Denver before finally getting back to Portland.

I can't remember ever being so happy to finally be home...

A January Muddle

2012-01-10T11:37:00.000-08:00

Ack! Once again, things are happening like crazy, and I disappear from around here. I think it's all the ADD/Scanner thing - I can't prioritize the massive amount of stuff in my head and my life. In the last 9 days, I have written drafts for 6 posts (and I mean for realz, not just in my head!). But editing and cleaning up and actually posting? Not so much. Obviously.

So...maybe a little summary will smooth things over.

1. I am considering going "public" with this blog. This fills me with anxiety because I dread being judged harshly, bullied child that I was. And also because I've said some snarky things about people I love, which means I will need to clean up and possibly delete some posts (oh, look! more to-dos requiring prioritization!).

2. I signed up to take Cathy Zielske's Big Picture Scrapbooking class, Move More Eat Well 2012. I have managed to watch the first video and read the materials. And...yeah, that's it. The process is apparently requiring much internal work that I would rather - oh, look! Pinterest!

3. Over the holidays we got stuck in Yuma. If that sounds like a Stephen King novel just begging for a miniseries, it's because it was. It's a funny story, and I'd really like to share it with you.

4. I may or may not have given up on choosing a Word of the Year. Have no clue what I'm talking about? Then you obviously don't read as many blogs as I do! Check out the concept with Susannah Conway, Ali Edwards, or Christine Kane. Just imagine me - who can't pick a topic for a blog post, picking a single word to help shape an entire year, and I think you'll understand what the problem is.

5. I'm turning back the clock to 1996 and revisiting the very first self-help book I bought, The 10 Natural Laws of Successful Time and Life Management, on the recommendation of my very first therapist. Oh yes, I was a Franklin Groupie - have planner, will travel (those were the days before it was FranklinCovey). Those of you familiar with this sort of thing may have been tipped off by my use of the word 'prioritize' in today's 2nd sentence.

So all of that's been burbling around in my head while also dealing with maintenance appointments, massive amounts of laundry, a sick and/or bored 4 year old, Monkey Man going off to China 4 days after we got back from our holiday in Arizona, and the pillows worth of dog hair that's piling up in every corner of the house. And let's not forget taking down the Christmas decorations, trying to finish my craft project, Pinterest, and oh-my-gods-I-totally-need-a-nap-before-I-have-a-panic-attack!

How's your January going?

Really, It Worked

2011-12-22T10:55:00.000-08:00

So we're doing Christmas tomorrow morning. We'll be heading to Arizona early on Saturday so we put in a request that Santa come a few days early. He doesn't mind - it shaves a few nanoseconds off his Big Night. But it means I need to be ready to roll tonight. And of course I'm not.

Because I've been busy on Pinterest, damn it!

To be fair I've also been really busy on a new craft project. The idea for which I got at 3:30 yesterday morning and almost had to get out of bed then to start because I was so super excited about it. So I guess that whole sitting quietly with myself and trusting in the process actually worked?

Maybe my word for 2012 should be Believe.

Because 'No Really, Shut Up and Trust It's Gonna Work' is really not in the spirit of picking one word.

A Folding Inward

2011-12-17T12:03:00.000-08:00

I have been paying too much attention to my own floundering moods. Disappointment, resentment, fear, and regret playing a symphony of judgement along my neurons. Depression never allows me "just" a bad day (or more honestly lately, a bad week).

Each day that lurches forward with fatigue or snappishness or just a general sense of blah, needs to be examined for deeper problems. Was it just the late night? Or maybe only holiday stress? Is my blood sugar low? Is it PMS? Do I just need to go for a walk to clear my head? Or take a nap?

Or is it something more serious? Am I in denial about it being more serious? Am I creating something more serious by obsessing?

I have an intuitive sense that this is a resting point, a settling in. And it's my fear of the stillness that's making me a little crazy. In the past I've lamented the warm, sunny days that come with this time of year in the desert because they were in such discord with my own need to fold inward. Now I have my cold, dark days and suddenly fear I will never unfurl again.

So a nap, a cup of something hot, and sitting down with my fear instead of sparring with it.

An Unexpected Plunge

2011-12-10T18:54:00.001-08:00

Thanks go out again to Susannah Conway for pointing out Chris Guillebeau's latest manifesto, The Tower.

After stumbling across Mr. Guillebeau's A Brief Guide to World Domination a few years ago (tell me you're not surprised I was attracted to a site called "The Art of Non-Conformity"), I have flirted with the idea of legacy. Also not surprising? It's just too overwhelming for me.

I'm a scanner. I have ADD. I can rarely decide which short-term project to tackle, much less even think about a legacy. And I rarely finish the projects I do tackle. I mean really, I took a two year "break" from this very blog. My project list never gets shorter, just rearranged. And longer.

Maybe my legacy is some sort of lesson in how not to get things done.

Oh, the irony. I wrote the above last Saturday then logged on this morning to tell you all about how tired I am because I stayed up until midnight playing sudoku. And if you look here, you'll see that wasting time playing with puzzles is the very first thing I ever blogged about!

I guess that's not really irony so much as exactly-what-I-should-expect-of-myself-based-on-past-experience.

On the side of synchronicity or serendipity or I-have-the-attention-span-of-a-goldfish-oh-look-shiny, I cracked open my copy of Refuse to Choose to a random spot yesterday and started reading all about the Sybil cyclical scanners - lots of long-term interests, never finish anything, often restarting the same things. Oh, oh, that's me!

It's such a relief to be recognized.

Look, I know all the blah-de-blah-blah about being an individual and refusing to fit into neat little categories. It's charming and lovely when people surprise us with the complexity of who they are. But I suspect that's only true when just a few things don't quite fit because too much complexity can be disorienting and alienating. My experience of never fitting into any category has been less than charming and rarely lovely. It's been lonely and confusing and often soul-crushing.

That was a tangent I had not expected to take, but there it is.

So, yeah. The book did give me some ideas for how to arrange my projects and my time, and I had every intention of doing some work on that. But then, you know...sudoku. Because...

Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid none of it will work. That I'll once again get all excited only to find myself back in this same place next year, wondering if I'll ever make progress on anything. And I'm afraid it will work. That I'll have time to work on all of my projects, stop wasting time trying to figure out where I left off, only to find that I'm not any good at any of it.

The Crafty Wonderland

2011-12-10T16:28:00.001-08:00

Warning: Rainbows and unicorns ahead...

Ok, it's more like fog and kitschy deer because, well, it's Portland. But you get the idea.

I had the best day.

I managed to sleep until 8:30, a good thing since I didn't go to bed until almost 1am. We went out to breakfast, and I ordered French toast made from cinnamon rolls. After that we went a few blocks to the little downtown/historical part of West Linn to watch the Christmas parade. It was the perfect small town parade - almost as many people in the parade as watching and a good 10 pieces of candy for every kid.

Then after discussing the possibility of buying a new couch tomorrow, I drove up to Portland to spend the afternoon at the Crafty Wonderland. And it was a wonderland.

Over 200 vendors selling every kind of crafty goodness and quirky, crafty Portlanders as far as the eye could see.

Speaking of seeing...I have never seen so many vintage frames! It's just too bad most of the wearers seemed to have just slapped on the first pair they found instead of waiting to find ones that actually look good on them.

Here's a quick list of the loot I got (as well as a shout-out to the vendors):

1. This crewel embroidery kit (in the green, pink, and turquoise) from Tako Fibers
2. A gorgeous chartreuse leather bracelet (for a steal!) from Sweet Rhubarb
3. An adorable onsie with an appliqued tie from Pearly Grey to give my newest nephew for Christmas
4. Happy pill magnets from Bishop Art (because I think it's obvious I need all the happy pills I can get)

I wish I had endless money to spend because so many more of the artists and crafters blew me away. Please check out the vendor list on the Crafty Wonderland site for lots of lovely shopping!

I Joined Pinterest

2011-12-07T09:57:00.001-08:00

Have you heard about Pinterest? It's my new crack.

As you know, I read way too many blogs. What you may not know is that I also regularly comb through shopping sites. I'm always saving photos and project directions to be looked at later, and it eats up my computer memory. Plus I usually forget where I got the information so I end up not being able to link back or find important details later. Now if I were smarter, I would have thought maybe other people had the same issue and created a super cool website that would do all that stuff for us.

Well someone was smart enough to figure all that out, and now Pinterest has swept through the blogosphere and made addicts of so many of us. Yippee!

Here's a link to my Pinterest page. It's not very comprehensive. Yet. You can check back later using the link on the right.

You might also notice that I've added two options for subscribing to this blog. You can subscribe to a feed that will update you with new posts, or you can choose to have new posts sent to your email. All about the options...

Catching Up with the Naughty Monkey

2011-12-05T15:07:00.001-08:00

I've been behind in my blog reading since the Thanksgiving trip to Texas to visit my family. My parents don't have Wifi, and I try to keep up with just shy of a zillion blogs - like you care. And like I need an excuse because let's face it, I'm always behind for some reason. But that's why I just read this post over at Emily Nagoski's Sex Nerd blog (yes, "sex nerd", and it's totally worth your time to poke about a bit in her blog because it's ah-mazing) about treating the body part of your not-really-two-separate-entities-but-just-go-with-it mind/body like it's your pet monkey.

I think I'll call mine George.

Do I really need to tell you that I spent the rest of the evening scolding my naughty little monkey (inside my head) and cracking myself up so much that my husband asked me what I was laughing at? I just let him think I was crazy, as usual, because even I realized that if I told him this, he would think I wiped out the wine fridge. Which is why I'm sharing it with you.

Then I remembered that my mind can also act like a monkey, a concept I was introduced to while reading this book during a writing workshop way back in my early college days. During which, I might add, I showed some promise as a writer. Explaining why I then promptly gave up writing. Turns out my monkeys would rather throw poo.

Which all leads to the obvious question - if the body can be a monkey and the mind can be a monkey, then who the frack* is in charge around here?

* Yes, I have been watching Battlestar Galactica, obsessively. Yes, I am late to the party. Yes, it still rocks.

The One Where I Might Become A Grown Up

2011-12-01T13:44:00.001-08:00

So get this - I helped with Thanksgiving dinner this year. No, really! I made the coconut cream pie filling (and not just the pudding-in-a-box kind), I peeled and sliced sweet and regular potatoes, I stirred and whipped and put in and pulled out every single thing that needed a stint in the oven. It sure beat my contribution last year. Which I thought I blogged about. But apparently didn't. Let's just say I was inordinately proud of myself for not killing someone when I got yelled at for putting the ice in the cups the wrong way. Yes, I said, "Ice. Cups. WRONG." That's the price one pays for having a smarty-pants daughter who's too big for her britches - a 38 year old woman who didn't even know there was a right way to put ice in the cups.

Apparently I've gotten a bit more useful in the past year.

Of course it's only because my mom has a frozen shoulder and is in lots of pain and was therefore physically unable to do the work I was assigned to. And I'm pretty sure I wasn't her first choice for pinch hitter. But she was forced to work with what she had because there was no one else. Which kind of makes this like getting 1st place in some school contest because no one else signed up to compete.

If you think that makes this step into adulthood feel like a hollow victory... you're wrong. It still feels awesome!

Got a text from a friend yesterday morning asking if I wanted to have lunch while Cha Cha was at preschool. We met an adorable Moroccan restaurant, and OMGHAVEIMENTIONEDHOWMUCHILOVELIVINGHERE!

Holy crappola. At this rate I might start blogging about rainbows and unicorns.

Something New Sunday

2011-11-20T14:39:00.001-08:00

I like how that sounds! It sort of implies that I usually post in some consistent way. Which we all know isn't true.

I just wanted to give you all a peek into what caught my eye this week on the Internet. Wait, wait! Don't leave yet! I promise not to share the really weird stuff...

I know everyone has probably already seen this video, but since I watched it multiple times, I decided you might like to watch it again too. (Originally found via Susannah Conway)

If you love a good makeover as much as I do, be sure to dig through all the gorgeous ones on Lindsey's blog, Better After. My favorites from this week are both dressers - a painted one with peek-a-boo wood grain and one for a comic book fiend.

Why does everyone look at me after reading this? (Originally found via Atypical Type A)

Angry Birds, irl - and if you know what those things are, you'll probably love just about everything on Geek Crafts.

This post about homemade chocolate-coconut peanut butter is a few weeks old (I'm behind in my reading. Like that's a surprise.), but I couldn't resist sharing it. I've already started having fantasies about this stuff.

I'm taking the dogs to the kennel as soon as I'm done here, and then it's a whole lotta hurry up and wait until we pack up the family to head to the airport for our red-eye flight to Texas. I hope everyone has a great holiday! Maybe if you're lucky, you'll see me back here before Christmas...

Cold Feet and Snotty Noses

2011-11-16T09:03:00.001-08:00

Things on my mind today...

Is 38 and raining too cold for clogs with no socks?

Will I fail to put on socks anyway?

Am I in denial?

How much snot can one human produce?

Is "busy blowing my nose" a legitimate excuse for why the floor is a few inches deep in toys?

What if the time I wasn't blowing my nose was spent coughing up loogies?

I'm actually pretty impressed that we're having "real" rain today. Before now I've laughed when anyone here said it was raining. If you can stand outside for an hour and still be barely wet, it's not rain. Today feels perfect for curling up with a good book and a hot drink. Too bad I can't lock the boys outside so I can enjoy that scene!

Cha-Cha and I have both been struggling with our first Oregon illnesses. It feels like a sort of rite of passage. I admit I had a completely irrational hope that we would somehow be immune to Oregon germs. My denial knows no bounds.

Preschool Sent Me On A Bender

2011-09-25T08:55:00.000-07:00

First, an apology to any readers who, like me, are completely annoyed by my inability to stick with a single font. Posting from my iPad means more posts but less options. I'm working on it. Well, OK, I'm thinking about it which is kinda like working on it. And that's as good as it gets around here...

Oy, it's depressing to read my last few posts. I did stop chewing my cuticles, and I've even been eating better (a move further prompted by the DMV lady asking me when the next baby was due because apparently the DMV isn't bad enough), but I've just found new ways to distract myself.

I've been on a sudoku bender. It's a sweet, horrible shame to be so geeky.

Cha-Cha went to his 1st day of preschool last Monday. It's actually an after-care program for a local preschool so it's all playing and crafting (no academics) but the child is just super excited to get to do anything different than hanging out at home with his momma. Which is ironic (life in general is ironic when you're a Gen-Xer) because Cha-Cha has always been a momma's boy. For the 1st two weeks of his life, he even refused to go to Monkey Man. So of course I gave him a hug and a kiss, and he went off with the teacher. And when I waved at him through the window, he waved back, but the look he gave me clearly said, "What are you still doing here?"

It was so surreal because Quake never hesitated to go with other people. He never had a shy stage, and I often worried that he'd start chatting with a stranger and be carried off. Perhaps you'd like a reminder of how well his 1st few days of preschool went...

After a few years, you start to think the kids are just messing with your head.

Anyway, Cha-Cha can't wait to go back. He spent most of the week disappointed it wasn't another school day for him (he's only going once a week). And of course Quake has started asking again to be home schooled. I'm pretty sure in his mind being "home schooled" means getting to play lots more video games.

Forget Math, Impulse Control Is Hard!

2011-09-16T11:45:00.001-07:00

Sorry to disagree with Barbie, but even when I thought I was bad at math (turns out that many math teachers just suck), it was still easier than saying no to a pile of sugar. Preferably one mixed with butter and baked to delicious golden-ness.

I was planning a post this morning about trying to impose a little self control by making some small changes to my diet. Like maybe cutting out all the sugar. Some of the sugar. Any of the sugar. Then I ate a handful of Indian corn and candy pumpkins for breakfast. So...that's going well.

ADD (or the more modern ADHD if you're nasty...or, you know, you're hyper) is often characterized as an 'attention' problem- it's in the name! And despite thinking the people who named it would know what they were doing, it's usually more helpful to see ADD as a failure in the brain's executive functions, things like impulse control and long term planning. Can you already see where this is going? Unless you're some freak of nature with impulsive salad eating and the ability to literally see food you eat instantly turn into fat, you're going to need these skills to make healthy changes.

It's become really popular to blame one's problems on ADD. "It's not my fault I ate all the cookies! My brain doesn't work well!" It smacks of not taking responsibility for one's actions. And wouldn't that indicate that your 'executive' functions are working really well? Badda-bing!

But there is an upside to blaming ADD for my dietary failures. Until now I've blamed my poor character and generally being a terrible excuse for a human being. It is soooooo much easier to get treatment for ADD than for being pathetic!

Starting Over - Edition 28,062

2011-09-15T08:01:00.001-07:00

Today is a new day. Obviously.

Things have been going swimmingly here in the land of the-soon-to-be-constantly-gloomy-or-so-I'm-told-anyway. Quake started at his new school and loves it. I've had the chance to hang out with old friends, which has felt like we never spent the last 8 years sharing too few phone calls. Every single box has been unpacked. Wait, let me repeat that - every single box has been unpacked! We've gotten a few new pieces of furniture that fit the space better, and we finally have everything arranged comfortably.

So of course I've got to do something to keep myself unhappy. I mean, really, what will I talk about in therapy?

Oh, it's nothing dire, just your average self-sabotaging behavior. You know - eating a pint of ice cream in one evening, nibbling my cuticles to bloody little shreds, doing absolutely nothing on my to-do list for over a week, letting the the super critical bitch voice in head take up way too much of my time. The usual.

Yesterday afternoon I slapped myself upside the head -metaphorically speaking- and cleaned the bottom floor of the house. Not just picking up all the clutter and moving it somewhere else. There were three different vacuum cleaners involved. Which totally begs the question, why do I have three different vacuum cleaners?

And that brings us to today. The boys and I all slept a bit late this morning (Monkey Man is in Finland) so it's been a bit of a madhouse, but after I drop off Quake at school I'm gonna keep the groove going. On the agenda - some exercise, more cleaning, studying for my Oregon driver's license test, and quite possibly taking a shower.

Watch out world - I'm making my comeback!

Lions and Tigers and BEAR!

2011-08-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

So I mentioned in passing last time that there may have been a bear encounter on our RV trip from Arizona to Oregon. I say 'may' because someone has theorized that since we didn't actually see the bear, it may have been raccoons. Raccoons the size of bears, but raccoons, nonetheless.

I didn't do any driving of the RV. I could make up some great reasons for that, but basically Monkey Man doesn't trust me. I'm not saying I haven't given him reason. It wouldn't usually be a big deal, but navigating a narrow strip of pavement through dozens of blind curves the first day left Monkey Man exhausted. He crawled into the upper bed with one child, the other child falling asleep in the back.

And I stayed awake to gorge myself on a novel I'd recently downloaded until long after sunset when I crawled into the back bed as well. I can't tell you what time I woke up because I never thought to look at a clock, but I can tell you it was LOUD.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

~~Someone~~ Something was in a serious tussle with one of the camp trashcans. I heard Monkey Man stir, and asked him - all stage whispery - is that what I think it is? Because apparently if you don't say bear, it can't be a bear. I was trying to figure out how to shine some sort of light outside without just illuminating ourselves so I could see the thing when Monkey Man asked a question that would change my life forever.

"Did you close the door?"

We'd left the windows open, but of course I'd remembered to close the door before I went to bed. Hadn't I? I was still brave in that moment. I got up and went to check. I felt my way over to the screen door, opened the slider just enough to let a finger through, and felt cold, night air suddenly filled with all my shattered illusions. Let me remind you that throughout this few moments we are still being serenaded by...

BANG BANG BANG!

I stood there, mostly because I forgot how to move, trying to decide what to do. I didn't know how the latch holding the door open worked. I would need light. I would also need to be someone else. The dogs were...what were the dogs doing? Sleeping? They were certainly silent in their kennel at my feet. If I let them out of their kennel and opened the door, would the bear be distracted enough by eating them first, that I'd have time to figure out how to close the door?

"Passing, go back to sleep." That was Monkey Man, trying desperately to talk me out of my state of frozen terror. But really, sleep? How could he even think I could go back to sleep when I'm about to sacrifice my dogs to save my children? "Passing, you need to move so I can close the door." Oh, he just wants me to move so he can sacrifice himself!

It still took me a few moments to convince my legs to work.

Monkey Man turned on a light, threw his upper body out the door, and slammed the door closed. For a few long moments the only sound was the two of us trying not to breathe. I asked Monkey Man if he'd seen it. He laughed and said he hadn't looked and then, "Maybe it was just raccoons!". Somehow we both managed to go back to sleep, our babies and our dogs all safe.

This is what we found the next morning*. What you can't see in this photo is that the trash can was dragged from across the road. Metal against asphalt...very loud.

*please note that photo may have been altered for dramatic effect

T Plus 2 Weeks (Plus 3 Days)

2011-08-18T09:20:00.000-07:00

Just a quick overview of the RV trip from Tucson to Portland:

Departure time delayed by 6 hours. Feeling nothing but relief when the door is finally closed on the house we've lived in for the last 5.5 years. Falling in love with actually being able to sleep while my honey drives. Not falling in love with wiggle jiggle of my flesh in the bouncy back of the RV. Mosquitoes at Sequoia National Monument...monumental. Also monumental...a bear. Not so monumental...I forgot to close the door to the RV before I went to bed. In awe of Mt. Shasta. Love, love, love me some WiFi access at a campground. Teaching my boys to eat wild berries near Crater Lake. My husband's terror at realizing I'm letting the boys eat wild berries. Meeting a friendly Texan who helps us navigate Crater Lake. Forgetting Mt. Shasta because Crater Lake just upped the ante on awesome. Arriving in Portland an hour before our leasing agent can meet us. Meeting 3 of our neighbors in that 1st hour (which is 3 more than I knew in the 1st 3 years I lived in our house in Tucson).

I guess I left out the parts about spoiled little boys with electronic games and gifts from friends and iPads who were bored, bored, bored. But you probably already knew that part.

And now I suppose I should fill you in on all the horrible (but horribly funny!) things that have happened since we got here, but...well...it's actually been completely lovely. It's gone so smoothly in fact that I've voiced - very quietly, just in case Fate is listening - my fear that something epic is about to befall us (apparently Fate can't read). A few friends, each of them worlds wiser than me, have told me it's just a sign that all of this is meant to be. A view that I am attempting to embrace completely.

T Minus 1 Week

2011-07-18T14:06:00.001-07:00

I woke up this morning composing yet another blog post about all my anxiety and how I'm not getting anything done, with a little oh-my-gods-I-can't-believe-I'm-seriously-leaving-Tucson-in-one-week drama. But then Megan Matthieson read my mind (again) with this amazing blog post, and I felt myself letting go.

This entire move is a turn in a new direction for me, and I am terrified. As usual I seem to believe that if I can control things, I can conquer my fears. Or at least lessen their impact. But it's never worked before, and I seriously doubt it will work now. And not just because my track record of actually being in control is, well...non-existent?

I am so afraid of forgetting things, losings things. As if there were some magical way for me to avoid it. Maybe what I'm really afraid of is losing myself, the one thing I always carry with me. The irony is that once upon a time I wanted to move because I wanted desperately to forget myself. So do I get to claim progress? Because if so... Awesome!

For those interested in actually move details -

Monkey Man is seeing a ton of properties this week, any of which I would be very happy with. If the moving company verifies today that they can take our Saturn on move day, we will be renting an RV for the trip, reinterpreting 'move' to mean 'time for a family vacation'. I am super excited about this possibility, proving once again that I have no common sense. And that I'm a complete dork.

T Minus 3 Weeks

2011-07-05T08:32:00.001-07:00

A little math for the day after the holiday:

If degree of denial (D) is proportional to level of freaked-out-ness (F), and D can be extrapolated from the total number of sudoku games completed (Su), then the value of F is?

DEFCON 4, baby!

On the upside, I get to claim that I got lots of things done that weren't even on my to-do list. On the downside, even I can't find a way to make sudoku relevant to our move. And of course there's the problem of not getting stuff for the actual move done. Everyone is soooo demanding!

I do keep recalculating one bit of math in my head day after day - high temperature of the day in Tucson minus the high temperature of the day in Portland? A blissful 30 degrees...

The Portland Move: Day 1

2011-06-28T22:34:00.001-07:00

Yes, I have named this day 1 of the move in a completely arbitrary, self-serving manner. But I figure that's true no matter what day I pick, right?

This move parallels the move my parents made in 1974, leaving behind all their family in Texas, the only life they'd ever known, to start over again in Colorado. My brother and I were a year younger than our boys are now, and we don't feel their opportunities are smaller here than they would be in another place. But I can't help but feel a certain link to my Mother's experience of daring to turn away from what is known and move forward into something so uncertain. Of course I have the Internet. Which sort of makes my comparison seem trivial at best. She might as well have moved to the moon, and I'm moving somewhere with a moon mural on the wall.

It's amazing how a little perspective can change your mood from overwhelmed and grumpy, to deeply grateful. Grateful for all the privileges and advantages of modern conveniences, and grateful for a mother who was and is so much braver and stronger than me.

Because Apparently I Need More Stress...

2011-06-22T09:34:00.000-07:00

Get ready, lovely readers*, because this blog is about to get a whole new look! I'll soon be publishing from the funky fine city of Portland in the lovely state of Oregon!

Of course by the "blog" getting a "whole new look" I really just mean me getting a whole new look because I don't own enough clothes to keep me warm in Portland. I would like to write about the process of leaving Tucson and moving to Portland though. If I manage to post new content regularly, that counts as a new look, right?

In the meantime, please excuse me while I daydream about sweaters and tights and boots and hats and jackets and long pants.

*look, I know there's only 1 of you, but I like my fantasy so just let me have it

I Survived Sonoma

2011-06-13T15:50:00.000-07:00

Wine country went better than expected. Of course I drank more in one day than I've probably had in the entire last year. I am so lucky to be a happy drunk.

I was less delighted when a few unexpected hours in San Francisco had to be spent at Fisherman's Wharf. I LOVE the city to a completely irrational degree, but that smelly tourist trap is good for one thing only - letting all the other out-of-town visitors congregate away from the places I like to go. There was also much noise made about going to Union Square to go shopping in a long list of stores that can only be found in... pretty much every city in America. At least the noisy streets disguised the sound of my grinding teeth.

Monkey-Man was super duper impressed that I managed to not strangle anyone. And I swear I only made faces when everyone's back was turned.

Growing Up at Age: Too Old

2011-06-02T13:45:00.001-07:00

My parents came for a visit recently. It went really well. Which I'm assuming means the world actually did end on May 21st, and I am now in Hell. The demons disguised as my parents are just messing with my head.

Or... Adderall turns me into an adult?

I'm going with the Apocalypse Theory.

The temperature here certainly supports the idea that I'm in Hell. My spring fatigue seems to finally be lifting. My husband swears I have reverse SAD - instead of getting depressed when the days grow shorter, I get depressed when the heat starts. Will this be the year I finally get to test that theory by leaving the desert? A girl (at least without medication) can always dream.

I'm currently avoiding packing. The whole family is going to Phoenix tonight. The boys will be staying there with a cousin while Monkey-Man and I go to Sonoma for the weekend. My mother-in-law wanted to celebrate her birthday this year with her sons, away from home. The combination of my crappy self-esteem, Ms. Perfect, and my other sister-in-law who just bought herself a brand new body last summer, makes me so happy there will be copious amounts of alcohol involved. Haven't mixed my new and improved adult self with alcohol yet...

Cranky Web Surfing

2011-05-11T13:08:00.000-07:00

Wow. Two years and just over 2 weeks since I last posted here. I wonder if that's some sort of blog record. Wouldn't most people just delete this and start over? Not me. I am the Queen of Unfinished Things, and I like to keep all of the unfinished things around because one never knows when inspiration may strike. At least my little rantings don't take up any real space - at the house I may soon have to claim the title of Queen of Extra Storage Space.

I am having a crappy day. I feel crappy and spent some time this morning trying to convince myself that a lingering cough and fatigue didn't have to translate to a bad day. I lost that argument. I'm sure you've heard all those "experts" rattle on about how working out and eating healthy gives you more energy and puts you in a better mood. Fuck them.

So today I give you a tour of the Internet via my cranky self. Because reading blogs is my favorite way to pretend I'm spending time with my Cha-Cha.

I started out reading email (as I suspect many wasted days begin). An email from Houzz led me to Nuestra Vida Dulce. And here are a list of some of the prettiest places they recommended:

House of Turquoise - my favorite color! Wish I'd been smart enough to guess other people might like it as much as me.

Made By Girl led me to the next pretty...

Huset, because I super-heart Scandinavian design.

And finally, Desert Domicile is written by someone here in Tucson. Wait, Tucson? I need cool friends in Tucson - I may have to start my stalking career...

Love in the Time of Dirty Fridges

2009-04-22T19:35:00.000-07:00

I already started a whole entry about all the insane fun I had this weekend with my friend CC in Phoenix. But Quake has been sick so I didn't finish it. Then life threw me a curve ball today. A small curve ball, but enough to completely disrupt the evening.

I dropped my cell phone today while getting something out of the fridge for one of the boys. The key protector popped off, and the actual little slip with the keys on it, disappeared. Under the fridge. Two letter magnets and huge case of "ewwwws" later, I realized that my tiny paintbrush handle was not going to be long enough to find my key pad.

It's not a huge deal. So I miss a few text messages. Oh, and all those calls from Quake's friends because that's the number I used as the RSVP for his birthday party this weekend. Fuck.

I convinced Monkey Man to help me out when he got home. He moved the fridge out. No key pad. We did hear a loud crack that so far doesn't seem to be related to anything functional (cross your fingers). I then convinced Monkey Man we could see better if we pulled off the front grill on the bottom of the fridge. There are no words to describe the grossness we found. Yeah, I heard once you were supposed to clean that stuff out once a year. That hasn't happened around here. Obviously.

So then we spent 20 minutes clearing a huge wad of gross out of the vacuum hose.

Monkey Man checked the floor in the pantry. I checked under the stove. Monkey Man checked under the crisper drawer when I told him the fridge door had been open. We grabbed more wads of gross out from under the fridge and then vacuumed what was left. Monkey Man tried to tilt the fridge to no avail.

Then I opened the freezer.

Just to check.

Because maybe the freezer had been open too.

Oh look, a key pad. Not only did Monkey Man not kill me, he didn't even scream at me! Now that's love.

Unfortunately my phone still doesn't work.

Silly Things Make Me Happy

2009-04-18T10:03:00.000-07:00

This new bottle of soap I bought at Target is making me ridiculously happy. After I snapped this photo I also replaced the pathetic diffuser. Now my bathroom smells like mango.

This little bottle represents more than just a cute new soap pump though. Gretchen Rubin over at The Happiness Project has a commandment called "Spend Out". Basically she has a bad habit of buying new things to replace old things and then continuing to use the old things while "saving" the new ones.

I have a similar problem in that I never even bother to replace the old things so I don't even have new, pretty underwear.

I am trying to change.

The old soap pump in the bathroom hasn't worked in months. I looked for a replacement but never found one I really liked. Which of course is code for saying I never found one I liked that didn't cost $25. Haven't I mentioned that I'm cheap? You'd think the $10 pump that broke quite quickly would be a hint that it might be worth a little splurge. Anyway.

I spotted this in the soap aisle at Target. Not something I'd usually pick up because it was a few more dollars than the store brand. And remember that bit about me being cheap? But Ms. Rubin's meditations on spending out made me toss the bottle in my cart before I could think about it too much.

And every time I notice this pretty little bottle? I grin. And every time I use it instead of reaching for a grungy bar of soap perched on my sink (which has since been removed)? I grin.

Worth.every.penny.

Meet The Perfects

2009-04-13T16:28:00.000-07:00

We spent Saturday evening in Phoenix at a little Easter Eve shindig that brother #3 put together. Basically he put slate tiles on his patio and needed an excuse to show off.

You may remember my earlier rants about my in-laws from these two entries: The Fat Sister-In-Law and I Wish I Had That Kind of Time. I've decided on a new nickname for brother #3 and sister-in-law #3 - The Perfects. As in Mr. and Ms. Perfect. As in I would weep with envy if you weren't so fucking smug about it all.

One of Ms. Perfect's sisters was there. She weighs about 90 pounds, soaking wet. Which would be totally normal if she were 4'5". But she's not. She spent a good 15 minutes when she first got there, getting confirmation that her new pants didn't make her look fat, i.e. wasting our time. You cannot imagine how tempted I was to tell her they did make her look a little chunky.

Oh, honey, just stand next to me all night. Actually, gain 30 pounds, stand next to me, and still have people think you're anorexic. I think the lack of food in her diet may have affected her creative problem solving skills.

A bit later someone make the mistake of admiring a picture of Ms. Perfect. Who responded with, "Oh, that was taken in my skinny days." To which I responded, "Fuck you." And then I snapped her skinny little neck in my bare hands.

Well maybe only in my head.

Things I've Learned This Week

2009-04-10T15:20:00.000-07:00

Williams-Sonoma Meyer Lemon hand soap and hand lotion is totally worth the price.

Williams-Sonoma Meyer Lemon hand soap will not, however, remove the smell of vomit from a 4 year old's favorite teddy bear.

Being in a funk and being in a funky groove are nowhere near the same thing.

More exercise, better food, and fresh air will not cure my funk.

Long, funny conversations with a wonderful friend that make me late for picking up my son, will bring on a funky groove.

In the retail world, Easter is already over.

Sometimes, a cigarette really does help.

Shopping for little girls is wading into a swamp of gender stereotype issues. Thank goodness I have boys.
Toddlers will eat an entire strawberry, green parts included, if given an entire strawberry. At least mine will...

That Karma...She's a Bitch

2009-04-03T11:12:00.000-07:00

Monkey Man called early in the day yesterday to invite me down to the University Main Gate. Our babysitter and her younger brother were going to be playing in a jazz band at 6:30 so he figured we could meet there, have a bite to eat, let the boys listen to the music. One more night I could avoid cooking dinner - great plan!

I'd been having a completely bipolar day with the boys. One minute I'm getting kisses and thinking about how I'm the luckiest woman in the whole world. The next minute I'm contemplating abandoning them at Target. I'm not terribly cruel - they'd have lots to do and plenty to eat. I was looking forward to sitting down for a few minutes and letting Monkey Man chase Quake's conversations and just literally chase Cha-Cha.

There's a small brew pub across the street from where the jazz band was playing, and Monkey Man had left work a little early to catch a beer with our babysitter's dad (with whom he works). I fight through terrible post-work, pre-party traffic, get the car parked, get the stroller and the kids together, and then contemplate how I'm going to get the whole shebang to the second floor of the brew pub where the grown-up boys are... Ah, look! There's an elevator!

Quake loves elevators. He pushes the buttons for me. We go to the second floor...

Nothing happens.

The elevator goes back to the first floor. I laugh, tell Quake someone else must have pushed the button making the elevator go down before the doors had a chance to open. We arrive on the first floor...

Nothing happens.

Quake pushes #2 again. We go up. We stop...

Nothing happens.

I tell Quake to push the "open doors" button. You guessed it...

Nothing happens.

I calmly peruse the elevator button panel looking for the call button when my phone rings. Cell service in an elevator? Now that's a miracle. It's Monkey Man, wondering where we are. I tell him we're on the elevator, that I think we might be stuck. He thinks I mean the elevator is just really slow. He pushes the button for the elevator, and...

Nothing happens!

You know it's not broke until a man can't get it to work.

I got to spend 20 minutes in an elevator with two small children I wasn't particularly fond of at the given moment. One of whom was a bit frightened, the other one starving. And me without fish crackers - bad mommy!

And then, they didn't even offer us free beers. Bastards.

Soccer is Hell

2009-03-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

Oh, thank goodness the evil-that-is-soccer is over. Your kids love soccer? You love taking them to soccer? You love hanging out at the games and cheering on your little tyke? Good for you! Now I no longer have to pretend that I'm just like you. So far Quake has shown no interest in continuing with this experiment. Although he has been wearing his medal around the house. And to the grocery store.

I'm thinking about getting a whole batch of those suckers made up. I could give him one for every week of the summer during which I don't consider locking him out of the house. Now there's a competition I could get behind! Go team!

More Critter Love

2009-03-25T14:09:00.000-07:00

We have a pack rat (aka woodrat). Correction - we had a pack rat. He/she/it has not come back after we destroyed the lovely abode you see here. This was in the corner on our house and the fence.

I get the weeds and the lint. And although you can't really see it in this photo, there were also lots of little cholla balls (little pieces of spine enrusted cacti). Makes perfect sense. But where the hell did it get that corn cob?

Also? We have a dog, a pretty large dog. A dog who likes to poop a few feet from this very spot. She, who almost removed my arm once when she spotted a rabbit during a walk, she apparently never noticed this.

Preschooler and Their Pets

2009-03-23T12:44:00.000-07:00

In case you can't quite make it out, that is a plastic spider. I found it making a home for itself in the phone pocket of my purse. Do I need to point out that I almost jumped out of my skin the first time I saw it there? Do I also need to explain why, after the skin jumping incident, it remained in my purse for a good two months? If I could figure that one out I'm sure my life would make a lot more sense to me too.

Go, Team!

2009-03-22T14:01:00.001-07:00

Yes, well, getting back into the swing of things around here has proved just a teensy bit more difficult than I had originally imagined. I've been moping through my days feeling sorry for myself because Monkey Man was so busy at work, and I'm tired, damn it!

Plus I'd been dreading the soccer-day-from-hell that had been planned for me yesterday. Quake had pictures at 10:30, then a game at noon and a game at 1pm. Two hours of soccer for a 4 year old? That's about 90 minutes more than he's interested in playing. Then Monkey Man told me he had band practice at 1. Then the nice man on the news told me it was going to be 90 degrees. Then I dissolved in a puddle of god-I-hate-being-a-soccer-mom-itis.

It was almost as bad I thought it was going to be. Monkey Man's cousin drove down from Phoenix to see Quake play so at least I had an extra hand to help with Cha-Cha (2 hours of soccer in which he is not allowed to participate is just about 120 minutes more than he's interested in watching). But the weather? Even if Quake wanted to play again, I'd tell him there was no more soccer until next November. And then I'd tell him all the parks were closed until then too. I guess it's a blessing that all he really wanted was the uniform.

Welcome to the House of Ick

2009-03-15T17:02:00.000-07:00

The icky house of sick, that is.

Monkey Man had the flu all week and even canceled the trip he was supposed to take to Asia this week. I was the bad-ass momma Monday and Tuesday, keeping everything and everyone together and taken care of. Wednesday I started to slip. By Thursday I was sick as well. At least I only have a cold, a nasty cold, but just a cold.

Hopefully everyone (including me) will be back in the game tomorrow...

Look Before You Sit

2009-03-11T19:45:00.000-07:00

I had nightmares as a child that a snake or crocodile would come up through the toilet and bite my ass. Actually I'm pretty sure I was still afraid of that as a young adult. At least when I was drunk. These days we should all probably be afraid of tiny little cameras, but that's a topic for another day.

Apparently I should have been afraid of plastic fish and octopus combs. Thank you Cha-Cha, but this is not just a small bathtub. At least he didn't try to flush them. And I found them before the 3am-in-the-dark piss.

My Daily Plans - An Update

2009-03-10T19:12:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago I wrote about the list of 11 daily habits I was trying to integrate into my life. I held no hope that doing this would actually change anything. I own at least 50 self-help books (not to mention a long history with the library), and let's just say I know my way around this neighborhood.

Well color me shocked and amazed! Not only have I been filling out my little sheet, I've also noticed which items have a made a difference in my mood and which haven't. Morning pages keep me sane; meditation is overrated. It's like I'm a grown up or something. Please don't tell my mother.

Of course previous lists have included things like, "Do cardio for 60 minutes every day while eating sub-subsistence levels of food." Then I'd beat myself up for not being able to stick to my goals for even 1 day. Now that's just a little slice of heaven for a self-flagellating depressive, I tell you!

Favorite addition to my current list? Flossing. Little bitty baby steps.

In Which I Actually Read a Novel

2009-03-08T18:33:00.000-07:00

Last week I HAD to get away from the family for a few hours. After dinner I headed out for Boookman's, a local, used bookstore that is fabulous. I even printed out a list of books from my ever-growing excel sheet of books-I-might-like-to-read. I've been feeling overwhelmed by this enormous list lately, but I haven't been able to tackle it at the library. Turns out that once your fines get over $10, you can't reserve books on-line anymore. Yes, I know, I just need to pay the fine, blah, blah, blah.

Because time is an increasingly precious commodity to me, I elected to just print the fiction books on my list. I'm more likely to read non-fiction these days, but I couldn't bear the thought trying to figure out in which category each book might be shelved. And then checking for the same book in multiple places because who knows if I got it wrong or if they just don't have a copy. I'm tired just thinking about it.

There is a point. Kind of.

I bought three novels, and I finished the first one yesterday. It was Little Children by Tom Perrotta. I LOVED it! I may have to try Joe College and Election. Because the 460 books that I already have on my list might get lonely...

How To Know If Your Toddler* Will Make You Gray

2009-03-03T17:47:00.000-08:00

The boys were taking a bath tonight (I like them to get clean a few times a season). Cha-Cha starts crawling out of the tub, which is usually Cha-Cha-speak for "I'm done!" I sit an arms length from the tub because Cha-Cha? He likes to splash. Big splashes. The splashing? Not so good for whatever book or magazine I'm reading at the moment. So as I reach over to help the baby, who is not adverse to flinging himself onto the bathroom rug, he slips and rolls into the water.

Just a note here. Unlike many parents I know, like, let's say a certain father who may or may not live in this house, I do not panic at these moments. Contrary to popular myth, the child will not drown in the 3 seconds it takes me to fish him out of the water. Do not email me to tell me what a terrible mother I am. I read while my kids take a bath - I already know I'm a bad mother.

Before I can get my arm in the tub, Cha-Cha's head pops up. Is he coughing? Is he desperately struggling to get air into his water filled lungs? Is he crying? No, no, no, no, no. My dear, sort-of-sweet, devil of a child is laughing. Gleefully.

And he's also not done.

He spends the next 10 minutes putting a foot up on the edge of the tub and then "pretending" to fall back into the water. A few times he actually does slip, and I watch him roll into the water. And then I watch him pop up laughing. Every time, laughing. The game only ended when Cha-Cha decided it could be made infinitely better by actually getting out of the tub and then back in. Even I'm not lazy enough to let him do that.

Cha-Cha will probably never be an easy child, but he's always fun.

*I am so not ready for Cha-Cha to be a toddler. Since he has decided to not talk, I've decided he's still a baby. And will be at least until he starts to drive. Or goes to college. Or turns 30.

Once Again Proving My Lazy Status

2009-03-02T16:14:00.001-08:00

Yesterday we resorted to using swim diapers. Because driving the 4 miles to Walmart? Too.fucking.hard.

Just so you know, swim diapers will not hold an entire nights' worth of pee. In case you were curious. Or as lazy as me.

In Which I Stomp My Feet And Pout

2009-02-26T08:34:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-24T15:28:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-02-23T16:48:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-11T14:58:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-07T15:21:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-06T19:35:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-05T14:03:00.001-08:00

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.

In A Valley

2009-01-29T12:23:00.000-08:00

I am in a foul mood today. I thought it was because I was dragged out of bed at 4:45 by Cha-Cha who then went on to cry for an hour because he was in a foul mood too. But then after dropping Quake off at school, Cha-Cha and I both got a great nap. I woke up feeling fantastic. But I'm back to crappy.

I'd just like to say to that hyper-critical voice inside my head that keeps telling me that I'm fat and lazy and basically a joke for a human being..."Shut the Fuck Up!"

I switched meds about 6 weeks ago. Good-bye Zoloft, hello Effexor. It was going really great until this week. Now I'm suddenly feeling dangerously close to that evil edge of despair. Are the drugs not working? Or am I just falling into "comfortable" thought patterns, the way of existing that I'm most familiar with?

Monkey Man has been in California for a trade show this week. Maybe the stress is just getting to me. My mother-in-law was here the last 2 days too. It was nice to have some help, and I really love her, but I have noticed that my self-loathing seems to get worse when I'm around her.

Maybe I just need a long, hot bath and a good cry.

Running on Unleaded

2008-12-04T03:59:00.000-08:00

Why? Why, why, why, why, why? Am I up at 4am? For the second day in a row?

Meet my amazing baby, Cha-Cha, who doesn't need to sleep.

Which of course goes a long way in explaining why I've been so tired lately. But it turns out there's another reason...

I measured out the coffee grounds this morning, debating whether I should stick with a smaller pot (Monkey Man's currently in Japan) or go with a full one today. As I'm putting the lid back on the can, I glance down, and for some bizarre-ly random reason the word "Decaffeinated" catches my eye. WTF?! I've been drinking decaf for the last few weeks?!

My recent headaches? That I thought were related to the increase in my zoloft meds? Maybe something else entirely!

Why did I notice it now? I've made coffee a number of times since I bought the new can. And of course I bought it. And apparently I completely ignored the green markings on the can, universal symbol for unleaded.

On the upside...withdrawal not as bad as I would have imagined. And that new bag of candy cane kisses I got yesterday will comfot me nicely. OK, two bags. Who's counting?

I'm Like a Weeble!

2008-10-19T18:59:00.001-07:00

We spent the weekend in Phoenix helping Monkey Man's cousin celebrate her 30th birthday. Her house is always a big hit with the 4 year old because she has a Wii. And really? What could be more wonderful to a preschooler already addicted to video games and obsessed with sports?

And she lets him drink Coke. It's kiddie heaven.

So she got the Wii Fit thingie for her birthday and much fun was had laughing at the adults who were often much worse at the activities than Quake. For those of you who haven't seen it in action, when you first get started it measures your "Wii age" based on some combination of your height, weight and balance ability on a quick succession of tests. Everyone else got ages 20 and 30 years above their real age. I managed to get a 37, only 1 year, actually 6 months, more than I currently am.

Losers! I may be fat, but I'm agile, damn it!

My mother will be so proud to know that all that money she spent on dance lessons finally paid off...

Did I Forget Something?

2008-10-16T15:04:00.000-07:00

Today was parent-teacher conferences at Quake's new preschool. I admit that I was on my knees crying, "Why, God, Why?" when I found out that he wouldn't be going to school for two days, but then my babysitter called and said she had the week off too. See? God really does answer prayers.

Anyway, I left Quake at home. Yes, alone. He's already 4 for crying out loud. Oh right, I already mentioned the babysitter. Nevermind. But I took Cha Cha with me because Cha Cha? No so big on the whole being left with strangers thing. A category which includes his own father. To be fair, I sometimes like to pretend Monkey Man is a stranger too...

Was I in the middle of telling a story?

I'm listening to David Sedaris in the car (Books on CD from the library are my salvation. Amen.) so I'm snorting and wiping tears away when I pull up to the school. I manage to pull myself together by the time I get to Quake's classroom where I stop. Thinking. Something. Something. Something is missing...

Oh, right! The baby! Cha Cha was still snoozing peacefully when I got back to the car. And I'm officially a dumb-ass.

Stupid Baby Tricks

2008-10-15T09:25:00.000-07:00

I discovered a new way to soothe a cranky baby last night.

Bacon.

Hoes Are Garden Tools...

2008-10-12T15:49:00.001-07:00

Holy crapola! How did it get to be October?

Have you tried Pandora? It's this great internet radio site where you create your own station by telling the system which artists and songs you like. I've discovered that my musical tastes are just as schizoid as my choice in magazines. I've had to create a number of stations because it just can't seem to figure out any underlying theme to the songs I like. (note to Pandora developers: it's the lyrics, and yes, I know I'm strange)

The best part for me, because I'm admittedly not much of a music person (no one in my household owns an MP3 player or even sees the need for one), is getting to listen to really different music. Bust has great music reviews, and I've managed to find quite a few of the artists on the site. WooHoo, broadening my horizons!

So I'm enjoying some... sex-positive lyrics from Khia, when Monkey Man mentions that I might want to change the station. I turn down the volume to ask why (gonna give him a piece of my mind for not liking my new music) and realize that Quake is singing a line from the chorus. Pretty sure that language isn't acceptable at preschool...

Well I guess everyone is getting broadened horizons today!

Not So Good With The Chores...

2008-06-19T21:10:00.001-07:00

Quake, my 4 year old, put on a pair of boxer shorts to wear as underwear yesterday. He usually wears them as pjs (just add a t-shirt too small to wear in public and you too can have cheap kid's pjs!), but it's not completely bizarre to see him dig out a pair for day-wear. So today I finally started the laundry from our trip to San Diego. Because we've been back for a week now. And I suppose that's long enough.

My child had no. clean. underwear. Bad Mommy! Bad!

Bad news: I'm a bad mommy and my son doesn't want to tell me I'm slackin'.
Good news: My 4 year old is a creative problem solver!

Do you think when he's older I can convince him that I taught by example and not by desperate need?

Glossy Obsessed

2008-06-18T17:22:00.000-07:00

I have a wee bit of an obsession with magazines. I'm an avid reader in general, and I just can't resist the snack-sized tidbits in a monthly (or less, I'm not that picky) publication. I also love eye candy. I can go a little crazy at the bookstore, especially when I'm stressed out. This weekend I managed to leave Borders with this pile and $30 less in my pocket.

Does this selection make me look a bit schizoid?

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Why doesn't that crazy woman buy a couple of subscriptions and stop wasting her money at the bookstore?" Or maybe you were thinking about chocolate. Like me. I actually do have a few subscriptions, but I don't always buy the same magazines every month. Not that I do this every month. Not usually.

Having noted that though, I must admit that a few of these titles have been coming home with me on a pretty regular basis. I should fill out those annoying little subscription cards for those. That will free up some precious bookstore time to look for new favorites.

Do you read magazines? Which are your favorites? Are there some you like for a few months and then get bored with? Are there defunct magazines you still miss (I have a gift, a gift, for finding fabulous, new magazines that then go under)? Do you have subscriptions or do you buy at the store? Do you think your choices say anything about your personality (I never buy fashion magazines...)? How long do you keep a magazine? Do you store your favorites, throw all issues away, tear out or mark ideas and stories and pictures you like?

And to think, I haven't even started on the joys of a local resale bookstore that sells used magazines for cheap! A good $30 in there would get me a stack too heavy to carry. My husband would probably make me keep them in the garage.

It's All The Same To Me

2008-06-05T08:07:00.000-07:00

I did it! While I was away I carved out time in my schedule to start writing and devoting myself more often to craft projects. I'm also training for a marathon and applying to grad school. And of course we won the lottery too.

Ok, maybe not.

Actually I've spent the last month singing the same refrain as my last post, barely getting through many of my days. But the family has had some milestones. Quake took his first round of swimming lessons and did...swimmingly. He also finished his first year of preschool. Cha Cha started crawling (now I have another reason to get nothing done) and eating solids. My parents drove all the way across Texas and New Mexico to visit us for 3 days, spending more days travelling than visiting but they're weird like that.

I also managed to make doctor's appointments, get the boys' vaccinations up to date (now that was fun!), and start an exercise plan. Which does not include running a marathon just in case you thought I had actually gone off the deep end completely. And I've almost finished the first layout for that scrapbook class I'm taking! Of course today is the start of week 6...

Did I mention here yet that I'm attempting to get through the summer without using my oven? Ok, I've already failed since we had frozen pizza for dinner last night. So I'm trying to get through the summer using my oven very infrequently. I asked my mom for her no-bake cookie recipe because exercise or no, I'll be damned if I'm giving up cookies just because I don't want to turn on the oven. I started to stir them up this morning (when you get up at 4:30 - damn that sweet little Cha Cha - you have all sorts of time to do weird things) but they didn't look like I remembered. Then I tasted them, and I was 7 years old again. Does your mouth have a better memory than your eyes?

Time Is Not On My Side

2008-05-07T10:14:00.000-07:00

I am feeling so completely overwhelmed these last few weeks. Nothing new really.

I started this class, Becoming More, over at Big Picture Scrapbooking. The first week has been all about defining my values, yadda, yadda, yadda. It's not like this is a new concept for me; my very first therapist had me read The 10 Natural Laws of Successful Time and Life Management. It's probably unbearably corny, but it actually helped. I bought myself a fancy planner, filled out all the worksheets, and got focused. That year I got re-involved in theater, planned a wedding long distance, and lost 30 pounds. Damn, now that I think about it, maybe I should dig that planner out of storage.

Anyway. Of course I'm realizing that how I'm behaving is not in-line with my values. Because that would make too much sense. If I was happy-warm-and-fuzzy, I probably wouldn't have been drawn to taking this class, now would I? The parenting thing is great. Yes, I need to be "present" more often, but that's a little tweak. The problem is the gaping hole in my life where all my creative pursuits should go.

I want to write, here and in other areas. I want to get some pictures scrapbooked. Oh, oh, oh, and actually, I don't know, edit and order some photos. I'm only 5 months behind. Taking photos would be great too. I also have this stack of craft projects I'd like to try just because I like trying new things. I also have a few canvases that I've been wanting to play with.

On the other hand, I haven't paid the bills (that was supposed to happen last Friday). I seriously need to get some exercise, not only because I'm turning into a cow, but because I feel like crap. And the dog is being seriously neglected. I have doctor's appointments to go to, groceries to buy, cards to send, laundry to wash...sigh. How do I take care of my family and take care of myself?

Annoying Myself for Fun

2008-04-23T10:36:00.000-07:00

I'm just having one of those moments in my life, the one where I decide that I hate everything about my life. It happens about every 18 months so I'm due. I hate Tucson, hate the house, hate my parenting, hate being a stay-at-home mom, hate our furniture, hate our summer plans. All of which invariably leads to I.Hate.Me. I'm indulging in all sorts of fantasies revolving around living somewhere else, doing something else, being someone else.

Random annoyance - I've had to look up the spelling on a bizarre numer of words the last few days. Not difficult words or strange words, just regular words that I use all the time.

Up until quite recently Arizona license plates have had the pattern 111-AAA. I have far too much fun coming up with words to fit those last two letters. One of the parents at Quake's school has "MYT". Could be "mighty" or, since it's a Toyota, it could be "my T(oyota)". See? Way too much fun. I once saw "LRG" on a...Hummer. But just last week I saw the plate I should have been issued - WTF. My current life refrain.

The Preschool Pressure

2008-04-22T20:41:00.000-07:00

I've been shopping around for a new preschool. What a freakin' nightmare. I'm pretty sure preschool used to be the place you sent your kids to learn not to hit or bite other kids. Now your choice of preschool determines whether or not your child gets into college. Perhaps it's just another symptom of my lazy parenting, but I have some serious doubts about preschool being my child's defining educational moment.

Why not just stay where we are? It's sort of a perfect storm scenario. I really love the theories behind Waldorf - the gentle environment, the focus on natural learning, fostering a love of learning. But frankly, Quake is bored and he doesn't seem to be enjoying himself. The school is also moving to a new, larger facility...that's much further away. Have you seen the gas prices lately? So off I go in search of another school.

Does this process get harder as the kids get older? Because I'm pretty sure I won't be able to handle it. One school was all right, nothing special, but we were a little leary of the Bible stories (neither Monkey Man or me being terribly religious). The director of the next school kept saying they really pushed academics. "We're focused on academics." "It's all about the academics." What the fuck does that mean for a four year old? Lectures? Independent research projects? I'm not claiming to be a genius, but if you can't explain your preschool program to me, maybe you should go back to school.

We both had very high hopes for the third school on the list. It's a full immersion foreign language program, and two of Quake's friends go there. Too bad their director could star in the video, "How NOT to Win Friends and Influence People." I felt the need to defend my decision to send Q to Waldorf, and he insinuated that Q would need to be in a younger class because he'd be behind kids already in the program. He all but sneered at the other schools I told him we were visiting, going so far as to claim that his was one of only three quality programs in town (the other two weren't on my list). But what really annoyed me was how my friends who already send their children there told me lots of things that were different than what he had told me. Apparently I have trust issues.

So I've signed the boy up for the last school we considered. I'd first heard of it 10 years ago when a woman I worked with sent her child there - smart woman, smart child. It was also recommended by a local 1st grade teacher I know. After meeting Quake, the pre-K teacher was confident that he would do just fine in her class even though he hasn't had any academics yet. And even while telling me they didn't believe their program was right for every child, they made Quake and I both feel welcome.

Does it make me a bad parent that I've not based this decision on his preschool being the "best" academically? Am I terrible if I don't care that Quake's not going to be doing calculus or reading in French by this time next year? Will Quake spend years in therapy weeping in rage about how I ruined his future because I didn't send him to the "right" preschool? I'm not usually a gambling sort, but I'll take that bet.

Sushi and Birthday Cake

2008-04-19T14:36:00.000-07:00

I'm supposed to be asleep. My mother-in-law took Quake to the store with her so Cha Cha and I could go down for a nap. Cha Cha...not so much into the nap.

Tomorrow Monkey Man and I will be married for 6 years. He's currently packed into a high tech metal tube hurtling itself around the globe and won't even be on the ground again until tomorrow has come and gone. Next year we'll be able to aruge over whether we're married 6 or 7 years.

My mother-in-law came to town Friday evening so Monkey Man and I could get drunk on grain alcohol and eat obscene amounts of raw fish to celebrate. It's a party! I told him during dinner that I still wanted to be a writer (something I've claimed and then abandoned too many times to count). Do you think that means anything? Anything other than I'm obnoxiously long-winded when I'm drunk? As oppossed to when I'm not drunk, and I'm just almost obnoxiously long-winded. Shut up, it's my fantasy.

Cha Cha, the sweet baby, the wonderful, happy baby, decided last night that he doesn't want to take a bottle anymore. So my mother-in-law, she who can "handle any baby, had three of my own, helped raise a few more, was a labor and delivery nurse for over 20 years", was completely worn out by the time we got back last night. I feel bad. But only because I feel just the tiniest bit gleeful at her trauma. Oh, my world has become small and petty, but I'm getting pleasure where I can.

It's a really good thing she's here though. Otherwise I'd be ordering pizza delivery and picking up a generic cake tomorrow morning for Quake's birthday party. And then being glad I had enough paper towels for the pizza since my dishes are all dirty.

Fifi's Breakfast

2008-04-16T15:27:00.000-07:00

My favorite breakfast - granola, Greek yogurt, fruit, and milky coffee. This particular morning I had strawberries (frozen and thawed slightly in the microwave), but I really love fresh mango and bananas or cantaloupe.

I fell in love with this breakfast while honeymooning in Mexico. Of course my love affair has gotten even more intense since I discovered Greek yogurt. You know it's love when my cheap ass is willing to spend the extra cash.

And let me guess...you couldn't give a rat's ass about my breakfast. I swear before I turned the computer on I had a dozen things to write about. Well at least I thought it was a pretty photo.

Just go check out this post over at Go Fug Yourself. I want to be Mad Auntie Fifi! Please, please, please! Yeah, I know there are lots of evil things about getting old, but frankly I'm looking forward to getting a free pass on being a touch crazy. Let them all whisper behind my back about how I'm going senile; I'll be having a blast.

Ms Big Deal

2008-04-13T08:55:00.000-07:00

We got an invitation in the mail this weekend to the college graduation of one of Monkey Man's cousins. It was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Monkey Man and Family. Where do I start with how many ways this offends me?

If this had come from someone of an older generation or from someone who didn't really know me, I would have just rolled my eyes and moved on. But this particular young woman is 10 years younger than me, and I was a bridesmaid in her wedding.

First, those of you who know me personally will know that I did not legally take the name Man, prefering to keep my own. But I don't mind all the mail I get addressed to Passing Man. I understand that some people don't get the whole idea of a woman keeping her last name (I mean really, the audacity of these women - it's a miracle they manage to find someone to marry them at all!). I've gotten used to the looks of utter confusion when I explain to someone that my legal name is different and usually just tell people I was too lazy to do the paperwork. I realize it hurts the cause, but I'm just too tired to explain it some days.

And I'm far from crazy about the title "Mrs." Yes, yes, yes, this is from family and of course they know we're married so being addressed in a marital-status-neutral way isn't important, blah, blah, blah. But don't you think, just maybe, a woman who chooses to keep her last name might prefer being addressed as "Ms"?

But of course it's not just the "Mrs" and the "Man". Rather it's the combination of those two plus not even getting the courtesy of my own damn first name. Go ahead, lump me into a category of crazy, angry feminist. Laugh and roll your eyes and dismiss my consternation as just being too uptight. Then start addressing all the men in your life as "Mr. Wife Wife-Surname". The first time, most of them will think it's sort of cute and funny. Keep doing it. Great fun for all of us angry, ugly feminists! Apparently it's only-a-little-thing-not-really-important to people who are only-a-little-thing-not-really-important.

Oh, but the story gets better. The return address label? It was her first name (with her married name). Now why the hell does she get to be Wife Married-Name while I'm Mrs. Husband Married-Name? Arg! At least if her address label had her listed as Mrs. Husband Married-Name I could grumble about her just needing to join the 21st century.

While I know this might come as a terrible shock, it turns out that this issue isn't just about me. The first woman I heard voice a desire to be addressed by her own name was my mother. A woman who came of age before second wave feminism and who was too busy raising a family to participate. A woman who cooked and cleaned and sewed and always baked birthday cakes from scratch. But also a woman who made her own money and demanded that her daughter get an education and be able to take care of herself. The only thing she asked in return was the luxury of being addressed by her own name.

So I think of her when I look at this envelope. You're right, it's just an envelope. Just one invitation. Just a few silly words dictated by tradition. No big deal.

Well it is a big deal to a woman who deserves so much more than such a little thing, and so it's a big deal to me.

Losing My Mind

2008-04-11T07:50:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have one of those days where you are certain you are losing your mind? I have them every hour or so. But usually it's just a sort of passing feeling of being overwhelmed; the other day I seriously, for real, thought I might be losing my mind.

I dropped Quake off at preschool and then headed east to stop off at Petsmart and Trader Joe's before my appointment at another preschool. After driving a bit, it occurs to me that I must not have been paying attention and driven past the shopping center. My inner bitch snickers at me, "Loser."

I turn around. After driving far enough west to pass Quake's school without seeing the shopping center, I realize that I've either developed a very serious case of ADD, or I'm really going crazy. I even start to wonder if I'm on the right road. I drive further west just to assure myself that the shopping center I want really is east of the school. Because at this point I'm starting to question reality in general. I turn around again.

Now hyper aware, I feel a dribble from my coffee cup. I look down to see if any of the dribble made it onto my shirt only to be greeted by a huge, wet coffee stain on my chest. My cup's been leaking for quite a while. And I didn't notice. Oh look! There's Petsmart and Trader Joe's, just 2 miles further east than I drove the first time.

There is no longer enough time to visit both stores before heading to my appointment so I pick up cat food since the cats are truly out of food, and I'm sure we can survive another day or two without yogurt. A few hours later, I get to listen to Quake cry all the way home because I didn't buy any blueberry yogurt. Sorry, Sweetheart, Mommy was busy losing her mind.

The Weather At This Very Moment

2008-04-09T16:08:00.000-07:00

So, yeah, I suck. But while sitting in my car with nothing to do while Cha Cha napped this morning, I wrote the rough drafts for eight blog entries. One can always hope that I might actually use them. Oh, and this isn't one of them so now I have nine!

I took the above pictures on Monday while taking the boys for a walk. I had really intended to get shots of these gorgeous purple flowers that were everywhere. Turns out the spring bloom is a tiny, precious, little spot of time, and I missed them. That group of pink flowers was the only one left that we found, and even most of the orange ones were looking shabby. Would you like to know the names of these flowers-I-will-pretend-are-wildflowers-even-though-they're-probably-weeds? Yeah, me too.

I was also planning on waxing poetic about the lovely spring weather. Then it hit just shy of 90, and I decided I needed to spend some serious time figuring out how to get myself out of this godforsaken hell before another summer burns away what little sanity I have left. Today I put on shorts (I hate wearing shorts - just another satorial quirk of mine, which gives me an idea for another post...), and then saw on the weather channel that the high would be 71. WTF? Not that I'm complaining, but really, wtf?

And just because I feel I must keep rambling on to, in some lame way, make up for not posting for so long, I must point out the folly of the weather channel's city page. The first big, huge thing it shows you? The weather at this very moment. Holy cripes! I could have just walked outside to know what the weather is at this very moment. Here's an idea - make the first thing I see something useful.

Sir Manners

2008-03-26T06:22:00.000-07:00

Quake proved himself quite the little gentleman yesterday. We took a quick trip to a local preschool to check it out and get some information. After I introduced myself to the director and shook her hand, Q puts out his hand and says, "I'm Quake." As if he's always shaking hands with strangers and introducing himself. It made me look like I'm actually making an effort to teach him manners. I love that kid!

Then in the afternoon I was sitting on my bed, talking to a friend on the phone, and Quake walks in with his wooden sword and his shield (which is really the lid to our dirty clothes hamper but I doubt I'll get it back until Q's in high school). He kneels at the foot of the bed and says, "Your Highness." It's about time someone noticed. Now go bring me bon-bons.

Clean Closet

2008-03-24T18:42:00.000-07:00

Spring has arrived in the desert. Gorgeous flowers are blooming everywhere, and air conditioners can be heard rumbling to life all over town. Allergy sufferers are adding their own music to the sounds of the season. Here at my house, I've been cleaning out my closet.

Of course it took me the better part of a week. I had to do it in 5 to 10 minute intervals. This picture was taken just over a year ago; the top of my dresser is one of my favorite places in the house. Is that strange?

I stuffed three thrash bags with clothes and jewelry to go to Goodwill and probably threw away an entire other bag. Monkey Man told me I needed to go shopping because the closet looked so empty!

Things that didn't get to stay: my high school letter jacket (cut out the letter and saved), a fleece robe I forgot I owned (because those are so useful here), a pair of pants that I wore all winter and then suddenly decided I hated, three pair of tights I haven't worn since I got pregnant with my four-year old, all the maternity clothes.

Things that got to stay: a shirt that belonged to my first husband (I'll be ready to let go of it soon, I think), a pair of black lace panties I've worn exactly once, all my dance shoes and clothes (I'm sure none of this will ever fit again), a velvet robe with ostrich feather cuffs, a pair of socks with taxis and a road that I got as a gift in junior high (yes, I still remember who gave them to me).

As someone who tends toward hoarding, I can't believe how liberating it feels to get rid of things. Things, stuff, crap. My life is overflowing with too much of it all. Is it really a surprise that I can't get anything done when I waste so much time digging through so much clutter? I've already started clearing out my craft area. Then I have my desk, bookcases, and underneath my bed to tackle. Gotta have something to do during the coming long, hot afternoons.

Trader Joe's Shoppers

2008-03-13T08:38:00.000-07:00

Why do so many assholes shop at Trader Joe's?

I've shopped at Trader Joe's in numerous states, and it's always the same. People park their carts in the middle of the tiny aisles until there are 6 people on each end sighing and rolling their eyes. Others will stop that cart right in front of what you're looking at while they look over every egg in the dairy case. And then they cut you off in line. It makes you wonder if all that healthy, organic food makes people grumpy. Wouldn't that be ironic - you live longer but everyone around you wishes you'd just die already.

I'd give up if I hadn't already committed myself to this corn syrup thing. That shit is in everything. You start reading labels, and suddenly the crazies that claim it's all a big government/agra-business conspiracy, don't sound so crazy.

And now my preschooler is taking his golf clubs into the bathroom to wash them. I think that might require my supervision...

Suburban Perfume Vixen

2008-03-12T16:21:00.000-07:00

I went to Phx this weekend for a visit with my artist friend. It was a much needed reprieve from my “normal” life. I must admit a teeny amount of cognitive dissonance on Friday. I spent most of my day hanging out with my suburban mommy friends, and then spent the evening (and a few wine fueled hours into the next morning – woohoo!) surrounded by a downtown art crowd. It was weird.

Weirder is that I love and cherish both of those roles in my life. I don’t think I could give up either one, but I’m definitely not getting enough of the creative crowd. I was inspired by so much that I saw this weekend. I hope I can use that inspiration to propel me forward on some projects I have spinning in my head. You know, instead of just giving up and dragging down until I force myself to get away again for the weekend in a year or two.

To help me remember the journey, I bought a necklace for myself on Saturday. It’s one of those necklaces with multiple charms that often have a message with a different word written on each charm. I love those! Every time I’ve seen one, I’ve wondered what message would be perfect for me. Then I snap back into reality and tell myself that I certainly don’t need that sort of indulgence. Really, have you seen the gas prices?

The stars must be aligned because I bought the damn necklace. Mine says “Be You.” It seems like the perfect way to remind myself that I am Suburban Mom and Wannabe Arty Type, and I don’t have to choose. On the other hand, it’s a little frightening that at 36, I feel the need to be reminded, constantly, that I am who I am and who I am is ok. Or it’s pathetic. But I’m trying to be kinder. At least to myself.

And then it was like some cosmic force had been unleashed. On Monday I bought myself perfume. I rarely wear perfume. Of course that may have something to do with the fact that all the perfume I own was given to me by other people. I bought the perfume at Anthropologie. Words cannot express how much I love that store. Want to move in, and live in that store. I never buy anything there because a) I don’t have that kind of cash, b) I haven't been able to fit into their clothes since before Quake was born, and c) did I mention I don't have that kind of cash? I feel like a giggly, guilty schoolgirl. It’s so not like the Suburban Mom me, but Wannabe Artist me just got on her motorcycle for a cross-country ride with the wrong man. Metaphorically speaking.

A Monday

2008-03-04T08:29:00.001-08:00

Wake at 5am to the feel of warm pee. Change baby's diaper and clothes. Talk to baby for 30 minutes. Nurse baby to sleep. Doze. Get up at 6:30. Dress baby. Rinse hair and dry. Get dressed, make oatmeal for everyone. Feed baby. Eat. Pack preschooler's lunch. Put on makeup. Load car with library books, lunch, and diaper bag. Load kids in car. Drive to preschool.

Push preschooler on swings before bell rings. Help preschooler change shoes. Load baby back in car. Drive to chiropractor. Ahhhhh. Buy Easter candy, printer ink, and shampoo at Target. Eat Cadbury Egg in car. Ahhhhhh. Stop at lingerie shop; ask if they carry nursing bras. Get fitted for bra that is too big, but may return for it anyway. Drop off books at library. Avoid petitioners outside library. Feed baby in car. Write up this week's to-do list, include things I've already done. Contemplate stopping at bookstore. Go to Petsmart instead. Buy cat food.

Arrive at preschool early. Call hospital to make appointment for baby's hearing test, first available time is in one month. Get transferred so I can preregister. Wrong number, get transferred again. Wrong number. Preregister anyway because woman feels sorry for me getting transferred. Eat another Cadbury Egg. Read a few pages of a novel. Greet preschooler. Give him his lunch, and drive home.

Feed baby. Eat leftover pizza while rocking baby to sleep. Apologize to preschooler for eating "his" pizza, and offer him what I haven't eaten yet. Put baby in bed. Log on to library website. Reserve St Patrick's Day books (only a few left) and Easter books (beat the rush on that one) while promising preschooler to come play a game in a minute. Pick up crying baby. Sit at counter to play game with baby on lap. Realize damp spot on baby's side is most likely poop. Change baby's diaper and clothes while singing Stinky McStinky Pants. Gag (garlic and babies don't mix). Remind preschooler we were going to rearrange his toy room today. Abandon game.

Rock baby back to sleep. Pull in wagon load of toys from garage where they have been since being taken away weeks ago for poor preschooler behavior. Start going through toys. Secretly stash toys to throw away into an empty bag. Decide we need more storage space. Go back to garage. Find new homes for a few boxes. Bring in a small shelving unit. Continue to pick through toys. Got get screaming baby. Realize it's 4pm. Start dinner.

Start browning sausage and onion. Direct prescooler to put away the game. Dole out snacks. Talk to mom on phone while putting together lasagne. Allow prescooler to watch Power Rangers while I finish with toy room. Feed baby. Feed preschooler yogurt and granola bar for dinner. Start bath. Put last of baby wash in water. Talk to preschooler and play with baby until lasagne is done. Take lasagne out of oven. Remember to turn off oven. Put baby in bath. Get all mushy inside when preschooler holds baby in the bath. Get baby out of bath. Greet husband. Dry off and lotion up baby. Diaper and dress baby. Hand off baby to husband. Help preschooler out of bath. Get preschooler dressed for bed.

Show preschooler new books from library. Agree to read all 5 before bed. In middle of 3rd book, husband turns on TV. Give him dirty look. He turns off TV. Start 4th book. Trade places with husband to feed baby. Promise preschooler to come to his room as soon as baby is done eating. Give baby to husband. Sit next to preschooler's bed and sing a lullaby. Sit quietly by preschooler's bed wondering if it's possible that he's already asleep. Risk trying to leave room. Success!

Dish out some almost cold lasagne. Drink glass of wine with dinner. Have adult conversation with husband. Start watching a recorded show, realize it's a rerun. Read a few pages. Feed baby. Give sleeping baby to husband. Take back crying baby from husband. Contemplate going to bed at 8:30. Give sleeping baby back to husband. Ignore crying and get ready for bed. Take baby back from husband. Go to bed at 9pm.

The Pricklies

2008-03-02T18:58:00.000-08:00

Quake and I did this a few weeks ago after watching some kids plant cactus on TV. I think it turned it out really well, and so far nothing has died. Or even looks sickly. I know, I know, succulents are "impossible" to kill. I am quite skilled at the impossible.

I am soaking up the joy now that Monkey Man is back from Singapore. Or I'm spending my time getting annoyed that he's underfoot and constantly undermining all the work I did this week getting the boys in some sort of routine. I'm always forgeting which it is.

I'm currently reading a book about parenting, the topic of which I will go into at a later date because it seems to demand its own entry, and I'm starting to think the methodology might go a long way in husband training. It's certainly helping with Quake. I'll get back to you.

I haven't posted much about my quest to Figure Out What I Want To Do With My Life. It's not that I've forgotten - and, as this issue plays itself over and over and over in my head constantly, I'd have to cut off my head to forget it - but I haven't made much progress. Oh wait! I marked one thing off the list. Yeah, me! And I'm only writing about it now because while I was taking a shower tonight, I was beating myself up about it. That's my favorite thing to do, ever! Well you'd think it was.

I was thinking (between the "good god, you are never going to get a grip are you"s) about advice I've received from two people in my life about this issue. Both of their suggestions make me sad. Hmmm, thing that's a pretty good indication that I should mark off both of those items as well? I'm trying so hard to listen to my intuition, but all the accumulated years of thinking too much for my own good, has left me a bit tone deaf to that voice.

Note to self: a response of sadness to a suggestion might mean it's not the right path for you (baby steps).

Self-Portrait with Mountains

2008-03-01T08:11:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago we took the boys back up to the White Mountains for another romp in the snow. I didn't want to go. But I did. Because I'm a good wife and mother.

For those of you unfamiliar with the landscape in this part of Arizona, it is truly, amazingly beautiful. It had been rainy and cloudy all morning, and as we were climbing out of the Salt River Valley, the sun was starting to break through. It was lovely. One would wonder why I didn't just ask Monkey Man to pull over at one of the many pullouts so I could try to get a good picture. But those are people who've never had to listen to their beloved make snide remarks about how much faster we'd be there if only someone hadn't needed an extra stop for no good reason. I mean, Monkey Man's already irritated that he has to slow down to under 80 for the hairpin turns because his wife is screaming in fear. Actually stopping? Don't I realize we have places to be?

My Week So Far

2008-02-29T05:54:00.000-08:00

This morning I am abdicating my parenting responsibilities to Noggin.

I've survived 5 days alone with the boys, and I think it's gone rather well. Only two more days to go! Here's what I managed to get done this week -

got everyone (me included) dressed, fed, and out the door in time to be early for school;
have kept dishes washed;
put out the trash and brought the bins back in before the next day;
gave the dog a desperately needed bath;
went without TV for three days;
got my car serviced;
got groceries bought - Safeway and Trader Joe's;
got everyone, including me, bathed every day;
cut back on coffee (ummm, until this morning);
attacked my much backlogged email;
kept the house relatively picked up (that's a damn miracle itself);
started a new bedtime routine that got Quake asleep without me in bed with him.

And just for a counterpoint, here's what I haven't gotten done this week -

watching the Oscars (damn it!);
cooking anything beyond eggs and grilled cheese (oh, we did make a chocolate cake);
exercise.

(Thought) Experiments in Parenting

2008-02-25T19:11:00.000-08:00

Let's say, just theoretically, that you had to lock your three year old in his room yesterday until he cried himself to sleep because even after taking away two days of TV privileges and denying him access to his toy room until further notice, he continued to think hitting and kicking you was a good idea. And then let's say, theoretically again, that you had to lock that same three year old in his room again today because he wouldn't stay in time out after you told him to stop, for the love of god, whining and crying to turn on the TV. And then, theoretically, let's also throw in a restless, non-sleeping infant because hey, that'll make this really fun!

Then after all the crying and whining and fussies are over, let's imagine that you're playing some made up game with your three year old involving the giant, green plastic beads from a necklace your mom gave you that she wore in the 60's. You know these games, the kind in which you have no idea what the objective is, much less the rules, but you just do what you're told and cheer when you're told and say, "Tarter Sauce!" when you're told. And then, just for a fun twist to this thought experiment, let's say the infant, watching his older brother, suddenly starts laughing in that strange, hiccup-y baby way. Then the three year old starts trying to make the baby laugh more, and he does, and suddenly through your own laughter you realize you are having the time of your life.

Does that make up for all the rest? Theoretically speaking?

More Early Morning Moaning

2008-02-24T05:11:00.000-08:00

OK, seriously? Monkey Man left the house so early this morning I actually consider it a late night, so he could make a 5:30am flight to Singapore. I wake up to a rooting infant sometime after that, finding myself wedged between Cha Cha and Quake. Then of course one of my cats seizes this opportunity to plop his fat, furry butt up on the pillows too. After eating, Cha Cha has no desire to go back to sleep. I finally give up at 5:30 and get out of bed with him. 5:30!? Arg!

I did manage to steal some time for myself yesterday to catch up on my favorite blogs. Here's what caught my eye...

If I can wrangle the remote away from Quake, I'll be watching the Oscars tonight. Not that I've actually seen any of the films, but I can't resist the clothes! Anyway, Bluelines has a post up giving cocktail recipes to go with your favorite Oscar picks. If you've seen them.

The always hilarious dooce, pointed out this bit of visual fun for parents. At least now I know what I'm doing wrong.

This makes me miss snow. Kinda.

I love this guest spot over at Shapely Prose.

Holly from decor8 pointed out this amazing photograph. I'm sure my cats would have hissed and basically thrown a fit completely ruining things.

It's back to being a single parent for the day. And for the next seven days. Oh, how I love my husband's traveling schedule...

Time Is NOT On My Side

2008-02-21T04:58:00.000-08:00

OK, so the talk you were supposed to have with baby Cha-Cha DIDN'T WORK. I am once again awake before the butt crack of dawn listening to his adorable little babbling while I desperately try not to beat my head against a wall. This is the place where I swear I will have no more babies because I need the sleep, damn it, and based on past performance I'm not likely to get a late sleeper now. And then if I do end up pregnant again, you will all chuckle. But quietly, in the safety of your own homes, because I have super mom hearing, and I will throw something at you.

Monkey Man's been off work the last two days. We had originally planned to spend more time playing in the snow, but all the boarders were tired and Quake was running a fever. Oh yeah, and I hadn't wanted to go in the first place. So the last two days were supposed to be like a late birthday present with Monkey Man keeping Quake busy so I could have some time to do what I wanted to do.

It only helped a little bit. See, it turns out that caring for an infant leaves precious little time for anything else. I know! Who knew? What a crazy world.

I started to do lots of things. Didn't finish any of them. Did get to take a few hours at Barnes and Noble to catch up on my magazine reading. Am I the only person who thinks the local big box bookstore is really there just so I can drink a latte and read their magazines? It was relaxing. Well, the part when Cha-Cha wasn't screaming. But once he fell asleep, it was heavenly.

Quake had an exciting day yesterday - he got to see Tiger Woods golf, live and in person! Of course since he's three and doesn't have much experience with these things, he didn't think it was terribly impressive. He sees Tiger on TV all the time, what's the big deal? I'll laugh at him when he's older.

Early Morning Nutritional Rant

2008-02-20T05:14:00.000-08:00

Could somebody please explain to my infant that 5 am is not an acceptable time to get up in the morning unless there's a plane to catch? Because he is not listening to me.

Went grocery shopping yesterday, which is not something I would usually deem exciting enough to share with you here. This trip was different because I spent an unusual amount of time reading labels. I've been hearing for awhile now that high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) is evil. Of course my child started a Waldorf preschool and I started going to a chiropractor in the last year so perhaps my experience is a little different...

Anyway, I decided that I'd like to try cutting out of our diets as much HFCS as possible this year. Yesterday's trip to the store was the first time I decided to read labels and try to buy alternatives. This turned out to be not so easy.

Jelly and yogurt? I get this. These are sweet things. Although I was a bit annoyed that there were few alternatives at this particular store, meaning I'll have to make regular trips to Trader Joe's from now on (not that I don't love TJs, but it's not conveniently located). But bread? And tomato soup? And salad dressing? I picked up a salad dressing that listed HFCS as the first ingredient. I'll make my own dressing from now on.

HFCS isn't just a health issue. It's also a big agra-business and big government issue; HFCS is a product whose existence depends on tariffs and subsidies. It's also an issue of "real" food; production depends on multiple chemical modifications, some of which require genetically modified enzymes. For those of you interested, here is the Wikipedia entry on HFCS.

Other articles of interest:
HFCS linked to diabetes from Science Daily
Some insight into the business of HFCS from the Gristmill
Michael Pollan talks to the Sierra Club about HFCS

Where Did I Go?

2008-02-19T07:33:00.001-08:00

Sorry I've been missing! I got sick last week, which super sucks because it was my birthday. I'm sure some people don't mind being sick on their birthday because they hate the idea of getting older anyway, but I love birthdays. Another birthday, another year survived!

I always claimed to be older when I was a kid. Yeah, I know, duh. Don't all kids want to be older? I skipped a grade and often was teased for being younger so I just told people I was a year or two older. My favorite thing was when people, doubtful of my age claim, would ask me what year I was born. Because apparently a 10 year old is too stupid to subtract a year or two from her birth year when protecting her lie.

Then of course I went through the phase where I told people I was younger than I was. Um, actually I never did that. Does anyone do that? In my 20s I still wanted to be older mostly because I wanted to be taken more seriously.

And now, coming full circle, or half circle - whatever - I'm tempted to start lying about my age again. If I tell people I'm 40 (I'm 36) then I can hear how great I look! That's the theory anyway. Maybe people will think I look lousy for 40, and then I'll feel really shitty.

Believe it or not I had no intention of posting about my age or how often I might or might not lie about it. I was going to post about how I was sick so I didn't get around to posting. And just when I was feeling better, we took off for the White Mountains to spend a few more days in the snow. So I wasn't here. So I didn't post. I'm back!

I Wish I Had That Kind of Time

2008-02-07T09:35:00.000-08:00

I hate to keep harping on my sisters-in-law. They are both really nice people, and I feel quite lucky to have married into a family I enjoy spending time with. I suppose that I'm just so different from them that it often leads to funny stories. Some of you may be thinking that that's pretty much true for everyone in my life...

The point being, I'm going to continue to tell these stories, but I will feel a tiny twinge of guilt about it. Just so you know.

I have a cleaning lady. She comes every 2 weeks. We really can't afford it, but I'm a terrible housekeeper, and it keeps Monkey Man and me from killing each other over that fact. It's probably cheaper than couple's therapy. While we were visiting at Christmas, sister-in-law#2 was complaining about her cleaning lady. The cleaning lady always moves things around so sil#2 spends all this time moving things back where she wants them. Wtf?

Seriously, I told her that she obviously has too much time on her hands and needs to get a hobby. Personally I'm so happy to have someone else scrub my toilets and vacuum my floors that I wouldn't care if she stacked all the furniture in the corners before she left. Or put it all outside. Getting upset about the cleaning lady moving tchotchkes and crap around? Life is too fucking short.

Of course I am talking about a woman who has napkins on her dining room table that can't be used (she yelled at Monkey Man when he grabbed one). Yeah. I suppose that's why her house looks like a cross between a Pier One store and a Pottery Barn catalog, and my house looks like...well, neither of those things. More time to do the things I love to do or cleaning up after the cleaning lady leaves? I know what trade I'm willing to make.

Stupid Studies

2008-02-02T15:23:00.000-08:00

A dear friend in the Bay Area sent me a link to this hilarious article in the San Francisco Chronicle. That was funny enough, but then I started poking around in Mr. Morford's archives, and now I might be up half the night laughing at all his witty words. And suddenly remembering why I loved San Francisco so much.

Paint Chip Pathos

2008-01-30T14:53:00.001-08:00

So I've developed a bit of an obsession. It all started when I won this book by the wonderful women over at this blog. The first chapter in the book is all about finding colors that you feel express certain people or qualities. I starting digging through my already sizeable collection of paint chips but quickly became overwhelmed by the sheer volume of options and the utter lack of organization. I mean, raspberry pudding looks like the perfect dark pink, but how do I know if I can't compare it to fuschia kiss?

So I decided to create my own color guides. Because the blisters I gave myself punching holes in all my paint chips (and the blade I destroyed on my paper cutter) are nothing compared to the $375 it costs to buy the Pantone set. Paint chips are free! Even if I did have to make multiple trips to Home Depot because I was too embarrassed to walk out with 10 pounds of paint chips tucked in my purse.

It started out as this quirky little project, but now I've become a bit of a color freak. I guess we all need a hobby. Check out the obsessions of some other people at the Overlooked blog's Subject Two.

Now I've created a tag with the colors in each of our rooms to carry with me when I go shopping. No more buying the perfect pillows only to get them home and realize they're the perfectly wrong color! And whenever I come across a color combo I like, in a magazine spread say, I create another tag (on a different ring) that I keep for inspiration in decorating, scrapbooking, etc. It keeps me busy.

Jackass Overpopulation

2008-01-29T08:20:00.001-08:00

Not that anyone is surprised, but I'm already behind on my to-dos for this year. I'm trying to focus on the positive. Yes, last week was pretty much a wash, but I'm already getting back on track this week.

The truth is that fighting the spiral into full blown depression has really put a crimp in my schedule. Two weeks ago it occurred to me that rage might not be an appropriate response to a typically defiant three year old, and I've been having regular crying jags ever since. On the top of my to-do list at the moment is calling my physician so we can talk about upping my meds. I'm blogging instead. If you recall this incident, you may understand why I haven't gotten around to calling yet. But I'll be out of magic little pills altogether soon so I suppose it can't be avoided. Yes, yes, I should just find another doctor. Do you have any idea how much energy that will require? More than I have at the moment. I'll just lie to the jackass about breastfeeding, and I'm sure he won't even hesitate.

It's possible that I'm just finally feeling the effects of serious sleep deprivation. I asked Monkey Man on Saturday to take the first feeding of the night so I could sleep 5 or 6 hours straight. The idiot changed Cha-Cha's diaper before feeding him so the baby was screaming pissed off and then, because he didn't want to make him more angry, brought him to me. And then he didn't understand why my face was puffy Sunday morning when he got up at 7. Could have been the weeping I did from 5 until 7. And he didn't understand why I was so angry all day, or why waking me up from a nap to ask if he should make a bottle made me cry again.

All these jackasses in my life, no wonder I'm depressed.

Friendship Wasted

2008-01-17T06:59:00.001-08:00

Don't worry, I won't bore you with the details, but I have to share a dream I had the other night. It was all about an old friend of mine, someone I haven't had contact with in probably 10 years. In the dream we were running around together, just being silly, just being friends. I woke up with mixed emotions; the dream had been great fun, but it made me sad to think about how much I missed this woman.

I spent at least the first few hours of my day absorbed in that sadness. I thought about the last time I had seen her, some of the times we shared, the way that our lives had been intertwined for a period. I even spent an hour or so last year "googling" her to see if I could find out anything that had happened to her recently.

I think it's telling that I describe someone I have had no contact with for a decade as a "friend". This woman cut off most contact with me after I ended a romantic relationship, apparently agreeing with the rest of "our" friends that the only reason she was my friend is because I was dating that certain boy. The little contact we had after that was always initiated by me, and it was always disappointing and frustrating contact for me.

I can't help but wonder why I continued to consider her a friend then. And it certainly makes no sense that I would still consider her a friend now, after all these years. Of course she's not the only person I've felt this way about. I think of anyone I've ever let into my heart as a friend no matter how horribly they've gone on to treat me. In fact, I often secretly wonder what I could have done differently to salvage the relationship.

What a waste.

My life is filled with wonderful people who truly care about me, and I'm spending my precious time fretting about the jerks who used me or discarded me or just generally didn't like me. I'll be 36 next month, and I think it's time to put an end to this wasteful and painful (self inflicted pain - I love that!) bad habit. I'm a little slow, but I seem to be finally catching on.

A Little Privacy, Please

2008-01-15T10:32:00.000-08:00

So the other day, in a wild attempt to get just a few moments to myself, I dared to lock the bathroom door. A whole potty break without a preschooler turning the lights on and off? A little slice of heaven.

Of course I was afraid I'd have to exchange the flickering lights for the preschooler beating the shit out of the door. He threw his whole body at the bathroom door and wailed like his puppy just died when my mother locked the door while she took a shower a few weeks ago. But he only yelled at me that the door was locked and then went away to find something else to do. Like light the kitchen on fire. But I don't care! Because I got to poop. alone. finally.

Could the "shitty threes" finally be coming to an end? More likely he's plotting something hugely evil and just being sweet to throw me off my game...

The Fat Sister-In-Law

2008-01-09T09:19:00.000-08:00

Christmas with my husband’s family can sometimes be a bit of tug-of-war since his parents are divorced and both of my sisters-in-law have family here too. So my mother-in-law planned a nice dinner a few days before Christmas where she could be with her three sons and their families without the pressure of one or more of them rushing off to another house.

So picture, if you will, three women (my mother-in-law, Sister-in-law#3*, and myself) getting ready to leave my mother-in-law’s house to travel to Brother#2’s house for dinner. The brothers had been out at the sand dunes so my husband called to ask me to bring his bathing suit since Brother#2 has a hot tub. I grabbed my suit too; it was chilly and a hot tub sounded divine. SIL#3 tells me she’s not packing her suit because she can’t face wearing it at the moment.

SIL#3 who is tall, thin, leggy and gorgeous. SIL#3 who is 10 years younger than me, weighs less than me, and is a good 4 inches taller than me.

I look at her, dumbfounded, and say, “If the fat sister-in-law who just had a baby 6 weeks ago can put on a bathing suit, then I think you can manage it.” She tried to make some lame excuse about being bloated, to which I pretty much responded, “What the fuck?” Then she went and got her bathing suit, and I told everyone how I shamed her into bringing it.

Maybe I’m crazy, but I just think life is too short to being worrying about whether or not my husband’s family thinks I’m too fat to wear a bathing suit.

*I’ve taken the liberty of numbering us according to the brothers’ birth order, making me SIL#1 and Monkey Man Brother#1.

Shapely Prose Writing Tips

2008-01-06T14:58:00.000-08:00

As noted earlier, I recently discovered the fantastic blog, Shapely Prose. It’s helped me remember a part of myself that I find too easy to forget. When I first read this entry of Kate’s writing tips, I sort of skimmed over it. After all, I was there to read bitingly funny commentary on our fat-phobic culture. But her words wouldn’t leave my head, and I realized hours later that they were exactly what I needed to read.

I’ve been having problems with this little blog lately. I’d been thinking that perhaps I didn’t like writing nearly as much as I thought I might since I couldn’t seem to, you know, write anything. But Kate’s words made me realize that I’ve been deep in the fantasy of “writing for everyone” while pretending I was only “writing for myself”. I need to focus on an audience. And get over myself.

Why am I writing here at all? I tell everyone that it’s to keep all my far flung friends up to date on what’s happening in my life. And that’s true. But I also wanted a place to share what was going on in my head (frankly being alone with my thoughts is kinda scary most days). And I was hoping that the act of writing regularly, for an audience, would help me develop my own “voice”.

I’ve been censoring myself too much, trying too hard to fit my writing topics and styles into the topics and styles that I admire in other blogs. It’s time to stretch beyond what feels safe (which isn’t much most days), and discover myself by revealing myself to you.

New Links for a New Year

2008-01-03T14:08:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since I've updated my links, and I've certainly found many more blogs worthy of your precious time. Or at least my precious time. Anyway...

To tie in nicely with my previous post about figuring out what I want to do with my life, I present:

inside a black apple - the look, the art, the creativity! It's all in one fabulous package. For my birthday I may just have to buy myself something. Does anyone think I'm too old for knee socks yet?
shimelle - can I help it if it inspires me to see other women find their calling through a not-so-straight path? When I pop over I'm always impressed by her creativity. And I usually leave with burning desire to make cupcakes.

And I've found a few other sites that I love to read:

suburban bliss - Melissa never fails to make me laugh. Or to wish I could have a drink (or 5) with her so we could discuss our perfect husbands.

dooce - Heather knows the truth of living with a preschooler, and she ain't afraid to tell it. With biting wit, naturally. And it's nice to know that someone out there has a stranger dog than me.

shapely prose - Kate and her cohorts are smart, funny, and feminist. They write about fat acceptance, the evils of diets, and why thin isn't always healthy. All with more cuss words than I usually use!

Hope you enjoy!

Be Bold

2008-01-01T14:39:00.000-08:00

I made a New Year’s Resolution for the first time in years.

Be Bold

I’ve been living much smaller than I want to, and I think it’s time to change that. Of course being bold isn’t exactly something that’s easy to measure, and we all know from reading too many self-help books (or maybe that’s just me) that goals must be specific and measurable. So I’ve actually got a whole list of goals for the year, not one of which is “lose weight”. Thank you, Shapely Prose, for reminding me that The Fantasy of Being Thin is a crock of shit. It’s time to get on with my life.

I haven’t made any resolutions in years (except for my private “lose weight” resolution that I was ashamed to voice), but I’ve been busy this past week scribbling notes at random times about what I’d like to change this year. It all started during the massage I got the day after Christmas (a gift from my two sons). As I was letting my mind drift with the soft music before the massage got started, the thought “this is the year I figure out what I want to do with my life” popped, fully formed, into my head.

I believe the whole “I Don’t Know What I Want to Be When I Grow Up” thing is just another version of the being thin fantasy. Not knowing what I want to do is great way to avoid doing anything. And of course I can’t figure out what I want to do with my life if the house is a mess and the kids still need me around and the bills need to be paid and I can’t even figure out what I want for dinner. Right?

So I started a list of all the jobs and careers that I fantasize about or think I might want to pursue. I’m going to do that overly analytical thing of comparing and contrasting all the pros and cons of each one in an attempt to distract my head long enough to give my gut a chance to offer an opinion. But I’d also like opinions from any of you. What do you think I should do? What do you think my talents are?

Beautifully Put

2007-12-18T13:48:00.000-08:00

Oh my god! Two posts in one day! Is there a babysitter involved?

No, I'm just skipping my nap to enjoy the blessed silence of a house filled with sleeping children. And using my time to chop up vegetables and put pretzels into individual serving size packages. Or I'm surfing the net, reading all the blogs that I love and pretending that one day I will be as talented as these other writers.

And in doing that I found myself in awe over what Ms. Heather Armstrong of dooce had to say about getting mentally healthy. Please go here to read her take on this topic. It's what I would have written...if I was as smart and funny as she is.

Supermom...Or Not

2007-12-18T13:11:00.000-08:00

Honestly, I've been feeling a bit like Supermom the last few weeks. Granted it's Supermom by my standards that are, let's face it, not terribly high. But Quake is getting to preschool mostly on time. I'm almost done Christmas shopping. I take a shower almost every day. And despite some moments of panic at 7pm, no one in the house has had to wear dirty clothes in the morning because Mommy didn't get the laundry done.

There's a huge list of things that aren't getting done, but I'm focusing on the positive. The positive says I'm a Supermom!

Then Thursday afternoon Cha-Cha started to get fussy. He napped fitfully. By the time I got dinner on the table, he was screaming non-stop. Monkey Man and I took turns pacing with him for about 30 minutes before Monkey Man asked if he could make up a bottle of formula. I agreed, convinced the child wouldn't take the bottle because he wouldn't take the breast, ergo he must not be hungry.

Or...I could be running on empty.

Cha-Cha sucked down 4 ounces of formula in about 2 minutes and then drifted off into an exhausted sleep. I was devestated. Once I got the hang of the breastfeeding thing with Quake, I could have fed a village. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't be producing enough milk for Cha-Cha.

Clamping down tears, I asked my mil what could possibly be wrong. She looked me straight in the eye and said, "You're doing too much." From a woman who generally seems to think I'm a lazy bum, that's a kicker. So I'm hanging up my cape and declaring an end to my Supermom days. I'm busy feeding my baby...

My New Identity

2007-12-09T11:30:00.001-08:00

When it comes to my preschooler, I've turned into Snappy McBitchy. Every time I hear his voice ringing through the house with, "Momma?" it's like fingernails on a chalkboard.

I've spent some time feeling very gulity about not giving him enough attention, but then I realized that he's getting more attention than usual. Monkey Man and I both are going out of our way to spend alone time with Quake, but he's suddenly turned into a bottomless pit of need. I know it's because of the baby. I know it's because he feels threatened and wants us all to himself. Knowing that makes it no less annoying.

And using my very best whine, "It's hard to be this tired and be nice too!" Yeah, yeah, life's hard; suck it up.

At least he's growing up in a house that will be supportive of his therapy.

Of Pop-Tarts and Potty Breaks

2007-12-07T07:03:00.000-08:00

On hearing the news about the birth of my second son, one of my friends responded by saying, "Two boys!? You're going to be so thin!" Leaving aside the feeling that my weight has suddenly dropped to one of the last priorities in my life, I see her point. Chasing two high energy boys around is sure to blast through amazing amounts of calories.

But I'm guessing it won't do me any good unless I manage to eat something besides Pop-Tarts and McDonald's.

What I really love are all those articles on healthy eating that recommend prepping healthy snacks ahead of time so they're just as easy to grab as, say, that 5th Pop-Tart and 2nd soda of the day. Not that I actually eat like that. Not every day.

One tiny prolem with this method. It assumes that you lack time as you're running out the door (or as your newborn is screaming to be nursed, etc.), but that you can fit this activity into your schedule at some other time. I know things will not always be this crunched, but right now I don't have extra time...ever.

And even if I do manage to find myself with 45 minutes alone on Sunday afternoon, I will not be in the kitchen chopping veggies and dividing pretzels into individual serving size portions. I will be filling those precious moments with all the excitement of napping, or cutting my nails, or maybe even going to the bathroom...by myself! Just thinking about that is enough to get me through the next 15 minutes.

Crazy? Probably

2007-11-26T17:08:00.000-08:00

Am I the only person who thinks breastfed newborn poop smells vaguely of buttered popcorn?

I'm Back

2007-11-24T16:05:00.000-08:00

Apparently all I needed to do was write a post detailing all my self-pitying feelings - I went into labor early on the morning of November 8th. Cha-Cha came into the world at 8:21 pm, Thursday, November 8th. He weighed 8 lbs 9 oz and was 21 inches long. And much to my delighted surprise, he managed to enter the world in the usual way instead of requiring surgery on my part.

I've attempted to sit down and blog at least a dozen times, and the only reason I'm managing now is because I've resigned myself to typing with 1 hand. I'd love to share more details of my successful VBAC, but that is too long a story for one handed typing. All of which is starting to sound much more sexual than intended...

I will say that recovery from vaginal birth is hundreds of times easier than recovery from being sectioned. I know there are strong opinions on the many sides of this issue, and I will refrain from getting involved in that discussion for now, but I do know for sure that there is no comparison between the recoveries.

Also, being drugged for depression before being post partum? Highly recommended for those who need it. Moments of hopelessness - usually revolving around Cha-Cha nursing for what feels like hours - but no yawning abyss of despair. Perhaps not being full of morphine and vicodin helps as well?

I even started walking again yesterday! Not too long or fast, but it's a start. One I probably could have started a week ago. And speaking of those moments of hopelessness, I always forget how healing fresh air, sunshine, and exercise can be. Especially cool, crisp, autumn (finally dammit) air.

No, Not Yet

2007-11-07T07:19:00.000-08:00

It occurred to me that some of you might think I've had this baby since I haven't been updating. But alas, no. I also haven't weighed myself or measured my belly mostly because I'm in denial about this huge thing I have growing and growing and growing inside me. I'm also completely exhausted.

But just to give you an idea of how large I've gotten...

1. The nurses and midwives cannot hide their shock and always offer lots of sympathy.
2. A man at McDonald's last week turned abruptly and almost collided with the belly. "Whoa!" he said, in utter shock. "Sorry, I didn't see that." Other complete strangers that witnessed this couldn't help but laugh.
3. A new cashier at the grocery store asked me when I was due...while checking his watch.

I actually had a vaginal yesterday. My cervix is soft (the midwife could feel Cha-Cha's head!) but it hasn't dropped enough to even consider stripping my membranes. I have been taking black cohosh, which I might add is nasty, and I started evening primrose oil yesterday as well. Needless to say I'm a little depressed about my lack of progress since I'm having very frequent contractions that have been strong enough to wake me up some nights.

Now Monkey Man and I are starting to have serious conversations about when to schedule a c-section. They'll only let me try to labor until the 20th, and I'm not sure I want to spend Thanksgiving in the hospital. Meaning I need to schedule a c-section for a few days before that, meaning I won't get my full time to try going into labor, meaning I may never get my chance at the vaginal birth that I want.

I've been fighting a lot of resistance to having a VBAC in the first place, and now I feel as if it may have all been for nothing. Can't imagine why I'm feeling down...

On the plus side, Monkey Man has been taking Quake to school this week and picking him up and working from home in the afternoons. It's been fabulous to get a little extra sleep and generally just not have to do anything in the mornings. I have to enjoy it now because no matter what, it will all be over in a week or so.

Tummy Tuesday - 37 Weeks

2007-10-23T16:26:00.000-07:00

3 weeks to go!

Weight gain: 24 pounds
Tummy girth: 47.5 inches (right at belly button)

Apparently eating a diet rich in chocolate is exactly what I needed to put a stop to gaining weight. And now I know why my stomach muscles - what's left of them anyway - hurt so much. I don't even like the feel of my shirts' fabric rubbing against me. But it's not likely I'll be walking around with the ginormous belly hanging out either with all my stretch mark glory.

But I've made it! I am officially a full-term pregnancy now. If things don't start moving in the next week I'll start trying some of those folk remedies. Mostly I'm concerned about not getting a trial of labor; I'll be forced into a c-section at 41 weeks. The frequent contractions come and go, but today they started getting more intense...

I think I may have mentioned here before that my dog, bless her lovely little heart, is a bit strange. When we went to get her more food on Sunday, Monkey Man and I decided to shop for a new pillow to go inside her kennel. The old one had shrunk to half the size of the kennel, and I felt bad that she only had a blanket on the other half.

*Quick aside - who the hell makes a dog bed that's not supposed to be washed? It states clearly on the label to not wash it, which would explain the shrinkage. But really? A dog bed? That can't be washed?*

So we found a large, cheap pillow with a removable and washable cover that's even the right color to fit into our living area. I was so excited. The dog was...less excited. We almost had to carry her into the kennel Sunday night. Monday morning I had to use a leash to force her inside. This morning when I was trying to leave she was still eyeing the thing like it might suddenly jump up and bite her. Because that's happened at least, well, never.

Procrastination

2007-10-21T16:14:00.000-07:00

10 Things You've Been Putting Off (from 10 on Tuesday, archived from Sept 2007)

1. Grocery shopping
2. Showering
3. Getting ready for baby
4. Dinner
5. Getting passports for myself and Quake
6. Buying stamps
7. Making a Christmas list
8. Getting more dog food
9. Ordering photos
10. Finding a dentist and a dermatologist

It's about 4:15, and I've done exactly 2 things on my to-do list. I'd blame preschooler interference except that Quake is visiting family in another town at the moment. I did manage to watch some DVR recorded shows this morning. And take a nice long nap this afternoon. I should be thankful to have hours to fill with nothing, but of course I'm too busy being anxious about all the things I'll have to squeeze in tomorrow to make up for it. I'm such a dork.

Dreams of the Dead

2007-10-18T08:28:00.001-07:00

The other night I had a dream about my Uncle Billy who has been gone for many years. And for many years prior to that he was confined to a wheelchair and bed, a result of strokes and heart attacks. Turns out eating too much good Southern food, smoking like a chimney, and drinking far too much alcohol on a daily basis isn't all that good for you health. I don't often dream of the dead, and I tend to treasure those few dreams.

My Uncle Billy, aka Fat Man, was a larger than life character to me. He threw his vices around like they were virtues. He cursed freely - then always apologized for doing so but you knew he didn't really mean it. He made big promises I knew he wouldn't keep, but the words themselves made me feel better (he promised me my own white Stetson when I became enamoured of his; he gave me his card and promised to pick me up at the airport in Dallas if I ever need to escape from my parents). My dad's family has produced more than its share of storytellers - a tendency I've inherited but perhaps without the talent - and Billy was the loudest, most outrageous of them all.

In my dream he was talking to my dad, his "baby brother". And when I approached them, he hugged me, told me he'd missed me and loved me. He suggested that we needed to spend more time together. He was himself but perhaps toned down a bit from my childhood memories of him. It was such a little thing, not some big production, but it made me feel happy when I woke up, like maybe, just maybe Uncle Billy is watching out for me. Even if it's only from a perch in my own memory.

Illness update: Took Quake to the doctor Tuesday morning - he has strep throat!

Pregnancy Issues: Coffee suddenly tastes better than my beloved tea. Wtf?

Tummy Tuesday - 36 Weeks

2007-10-16T07:01:00.000-07:00

4 weeks to go!

Weight gain: 24 pounds
Tummy girth: 46 inches (right at belly button)

Still packing on the pounds - I give up. I think for breakfast I'll skip the oatmeal and just eat half a pan of the spiced pumpkin chocolate chip bars I made last night (what's not to love about a dessert recipe that includes the justification of "it has vegetables in it!"). Although the constipation theory wasn't all wrong last week - I did spend an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom last Tuesday. Monkey Man would also like to add that I did not include the 1/2-inch of my actual belly button sticking out in my tummy measurement. Perhaps he needs a laxative with his coffee this morning?

I had my prenatal class last night and even the midwives and nurses couldn't contain their comments about my ginormous belly. My fundal height (that's how big my uterus is getting) is measuring exactly on time so it's not that the baby is outrageously huge. Apparently I just carry my pregnancy all out in front. Like a 24 pound medicine ball glued to my tummy that I have waddle around.

The baby has dropped further into my pelvis. That and my intense and frequent contractions has one of the midwives guessing that I'll go early. From her mouth to the gods' ears. Not that I'm complaining. I'm letting go. I'm breathing into the moment.

Kept Quake home from school yesterday to see if a little rest would help him feel better. Right. It's a good theory for a child like I was. When I was home sick I would happily stay on the couch all day drinking fluids, watching TV, and reading. But three and a half years is apparently not enough time for me to figure out that this child is nothing like I was. He was so excited to watch TV. For about 6 minutes. Then he was off looking for trouble. But it was obvious by late yesterday afternoon that he was developing pink eye so it's a good thing I did keep him home. Now I have to call him in sick to school again today and hope that I can get him in to see his doctor. And of course stop by the pharmacy to pick up a packet of Airborne in a desperate attempt to not catch any of his sickness myself. Because that, that would really piss me off.

Snotty Noses and Contractions

2007-10-15T07:38:00.000-07:00

Woke up at an ungodly hour again last night. Quake was tossing around and then said in the world's quietest whisper, "Need to blow my nose." Seriously, during the night he says things that I swear are just above the audible threshold. The rest of the time he keeps his voice at just below shrieking. He belongs to me and Monkey Man afterall.

So my mommy duty done, I snuggled under the covers to try to get back to sleep. Even the ever hot, sweaty pregnant woman needs at least a sheet at 70. Then the contractions started. Four of them in about 10 minutes. Uh-oh. I had to get up and walk around, drink a glass of water, generally hope something would help. Not that I wouldn't mind this baby coming a bit early, but I'd like to wait at least a week so I'd be considered full term. Once things settled down I fell asleep on the couch again.

Dreamy Thoughts

2007-10-14T10:53:00.000-07:00

I couldn't sleep last night despite being exhausted. I had a terrible headache and every time I went into a prone position I would throw up a little bit in my mouth. So I popped half a Unisom, sat on the couch in the dark until it took hold, and then spent the night there on the couch. I actually like sleeping on our couch; it's way more comfortable than our needs-to-be-replaced mattress, and there is no preschooler smothering me. I dreamt of coyotes yipping and howling in the night. Of course the windows were open last night so that may not have been a dream at all.

I'm trying not to complain about the indigestion and headache and exhaustion even though complaining is something I do so very well. I'm trying to just accept what's happening to my body in these last few weeks of pregnancy. Many years ago, while still living in the Silicon Valley, I had the opportunity to take a self-actualization class with this amazing woman. The two most important things I took away from her class were 1)trust your instincts, and 2)an introduction to Tao.

The instinct thing...I'm still pretty terrible at it and forget to do a gut check pretty much all the time.

But Tao is something that keeps coming up in my life over and over again. So much so that even I, she who forgets she has an instinct and overthinks everything instead, has had to take notice. It's popped up again recently, and I suddenly feel that I need to try to be in the moment instead of fighting so hard. I spend too much energy wishing this baby would come early, feeling miserable and beaten for being in pain, beating myself up for not being that perfect, blissful image of mom and pregnant woman that I carry around in my head. God, she's a bitch.

Right now I have an almost overwhelming urge to curl up on the couch and disconnect from so much of life. I want to cocoon - flip through magazines, try to read (I suddenly can't concentrate even on my guilty pleasure books), nap, snack, maybe watch a movie, maybe journal a bit. I don't want to run errands or cook dinner or do laundry. I don't want to be distracted from the last bit of time I'll have with this child that is just him and me.

Of course that's not realistic. Things still need to get done. I still have another child and a husband who both need attention and can't carry the household load alone. I still have obligations. Here I smile to myself and think of a line from Illusions by Richard Bach - the best way to avoid obligation is to say I have obligations.

So I'm taking a deep breath (hey, that's not so easy with a baby pushing into your lungs), and just going with the moment. Today I need to get snacks for tomorrow's prenatal class. Today I need to do one load of laundry. I do not need to worry about volunteering at the school tomorrow, if I'll have the energy to meet friends on Wednesday, or even if I'll sleep well tonight. The time will come for those things and the time comes for all things.