One of those days. I need that hour back. I've always hated daylight savings time, it really screws with my mind. On NPR I was listening to something about how this is a terrible time of year for people who have seasonal adjustment disorder, this isn't the first time I've wondered if I have a bit of this. (which I refuse to acronym-inate, the way they do. SAD? Come on. that just makes me MAD). It seems more than my seasonal adjustments being disorderly. I've hit every red light all day. Except the light I got to when S dropped her monkey and was screaming, but I couldn't turn around to get it off the floor. No, that light was green. Tantrum at the store, at the post office, at H's school picking her up. Where there was no parking spot, and I had to circle around twice. I am wearing bad tantrum pants, the kind where when I have to bend down to get S off the ground and try to cushion her blows to her head, the world sees my ass and knows the color of my underwear.
I came home to find I'd forgotten to lock the trash, and there were coffee grounds and salmon skin all over the floor. I have recently switched dog food containers since my old one allowed the dogs to self feed after they chewed through the top. Ruby is supposed to be on a diet so I can face the vet. And of course for her health. She's not supposed to look like a swollen tick. Well, they've chewed through the top to this one, too. I'm willing to bet it was she, not they, as in Ruby, not Tamayo- I haven't installed the surveillance cameras yet, so they're both guilty. Theres no democracy in this house.
Everything needs doing in this house- laundry, dishes, theres a deck of cards all over the floor. Trash needs to be taken out, Dinner figured out. Dogs let out. Bills paid, accounting updated. Clutter uncluttered, lists made for H's birthday party this weekend. Calls made. Tylenol taken.
I can't think straight, S is screaming in her bed as she's under the impression she doesn't need a nap- which she really, really, does. I don't know where to start, but I'm not going to get very far sitting here writing about it all.
Better go play 52 pick up.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Stop the ho factory
What is with the constant ho-ification of our children?
Why does a 5 year old need an itsy bitsy teeny weeney yellow polka dot bikini? If your does, I know where to get one. What I can't find is a modest 2 piece bathing suit. (For convenience. That's why. I am so over the bathroom one piece swim suit thing.) I don't even care if the belly shows, but strings? Triangle tops to cover non existent breasts?
Then there are the clothes- form fitting. They sell low rise underwear in size 4. WHY is there a need for low rise underwear in size 4?!
Why does a 5 year old need an itsy bitsy teeny weeney yellow polka dot bikini? If your does, I know where to get one. What I can't find is a modest 2 piece bathing suit. (For convenience. That's why. I am so over the bathroom one piece swim suit thing.) I don't even care if the belly shows, but strings? Triangle tops to cover non existent breasts?
Then there are the clothes- form fitting. They sell low rise underwear in size 4. WHY is there a need for low rise underwear in size 4?!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Trying to try new things
Earlier I was eager to sit down and write about something I did today, yet another action I can't believe came out of the me I think I am.
But before I get into that, I have to delve into an entirely different first. I have just come down from getting the girls to bed- its bath night- all the usual trials tribulations, until. Whats that floating in the bath tub? The hippo habitat at the zoo flashes in my mind as I realize that is a load of crap floating around amongst the ducks in H and S's bath. H was out of the bath like she heard 'fire' at a movie theater, but S wanted to stay in the bath a play amongst the poop. Luckily tonight was not a bubble bath, I forgot to put the bubbles in causing much whining and head slapping among the bathers earlier. Finding the crap in a bubble bath is not the needle and the haystack scenario I was up for tonight. It turns out the easiest way to get the crap out is to pick it up with your bare hands. My hands are still flinching even thought they've been washed, scoured repeatedly. Perhaps I am lucky that this, approaching my 5th year with kids, was my first time with crap in the tub. Hopefully the last.
Back to some more interesting, or at least less repulsive firsts.
Part of the reason I started going to Meeting, and have continued to go, is because my family goes. I love seeing them weekly, and like that when we sit together in silence there are four generations represented. However. As much as I love my family, they are a bunch of social freaks. I come by it honestly. They push people out of the way so they don't have to stand around "sharing their journey" or whatever people happen to be chatting about after meeting. They all make decisions based on what they think someone else wants to do- which is a monumental thing I'm having a hard time getting myself to stop doing. I feel so much better now that I've started stopping.
Once a month, after meeting, is women's gathering. Last week, they announced woman's gathering this month, today, would be on the topic of creativity. One of the women who comes to meeting, who is a painter, told me last week that she was going to bring her knitting to women's gathering as she finds it mediational, and we had talked about knitting before. I have always found spirituality in working, and have often thought of my art as my religion, so I thought I might be able to say something to this. Plus, I felt she was daring me to stay.
I have been actively trying to win the war on my social anxiety. I am trying to open myself, to learn more, to be less cynical, less jaded. More hopeful. It is not easy. Especially with this inner voice I have. I think I have brought the inner voice to my side though, and now instead of yelling how pointless it all is, the voice yells as me to just get on with it. I have been trying to visualize myself opening up, relaxing, and I have this drill sergeant in my head, "Oopeen...IT, OOPEEEN IT!"
As the days led up to this today, I had the hardest time. I felt bad trying to figure out what to do with the girls. I didn't like that we'd have to take 2 cars. I wasn't sure if they bring pot luck lunch, or if you bring your own. I was nervous. I was anxious. I didn't want to go. I told myself I was stupid for wanting to go. I told myself I didn't want to go and felt obligated, so I shouldn't go. Today, finally, my inner drill sergeant woke up and told the rest of me to shut the fuck up. I called my mom to ask of she could take H with her to lunch and then home, told J he had S for the afternoon, ran to the store, last minute, to pick up some hummus and pita which I figured could double as potluck or my own lunch. Feeling like I'm inside myself kicking the boundaries, I made myself stay.
It was a little strange at times- a little drum circle-y. Although there were no drums. There was "a circle" where you all hold hands and then squeeze at the end. While we were doing this my head was jumping from one thought to the next: is this weird? What if I don't know when we're supposed to stop holding? My hands are on top- should they be on the bottom? Does it mean something that they're on top? Can they hear me breathing? Am I breathing weird? How long do we stand here? Why do you have to think about everything? None of these people are thinking this, they're all just peaceful, having a circle, why are you so nuts?
Drill sargent:" JESUS CHRIST! SHUTUP! You'll know when its over because it will be over and the rest DOESN'T MATTER"
We ate lunch- it was pot luck, my hummus was right on. Girl food, J calls it- bread, cheese, salad, and chocolate cake. One woman brought asparagus. I loved it. We talked- about Lucretia Mott, a Quaker reformer who was anti-slavery and fought for womens rights, about labrynhts and primal forests. About each of our individual strengths and creativity. I showed them my work. I told people I didn't know things about myself that I don't part with freely, not because they mean anything but because I am forever holding my cards to my chest. I got to know some really interesting woman that I may have just kept as acquaintances.
My understanding is that you have a circle at the beginning an the again at the end of the gathering. During the second 'circle' I was much more relaxed, and it actually felt a little spiritual. Like something was happening there. Which might be insane, but I was happy to have opened my mind a little. Even if it did take a crow bar.
I am trying to understand the part of me thats fighting this. The voice thats saying 'this isn't you' I know, even with out my drill sergeant, that it doesn't matter. I'm not redefining myself or trying to be anything I'm not (except maybe to be well adjusted and not a social anxious freak show) to do what I want, when I want. Why does part of me not like that? Why can't we all get along in this head of mine?
But before I get into that, I have to delve into an entirely different first. I have just come down from getting the girls to bed- its bath night- all the usual trials tribulations, until. Whats that floating in the bath tub? The hippo habitat at the zoo flashes in my mind as I realize that is a load of crap floating around amongst the ducks in H and S's bath. H was out of the bath like she heard 'fire' at a movie theater, but S wanted to stay in the bath a play amongst the poop. Luckily tonight was not a bubble bath, I forgot to put the bubbles in causing much whining and head slapping among the bathers earlier. Finding the crap in a bubble bath is not the needle and the haystack scenario I was up for tonight. It turns out the easiest way to get the crap out is to pick it up with your bare hands. My hands are still flinching even thought they've been washed, scoured repeatedly. Perhaps I am lucky that this, approaching my 5th year with kids, was my first time with crap in the tub. Hopefully the last.
Back to some more interesting, or at least less repulsive firsts.
Part of the reason I started going to Meeting, and have continued to go, is because my family goes. I love seeing them weekly, and like that when we sit together in silence there are four generations represented. However. As much as I love my family, they are a bunch of social freaks. I come by it honestly. They push people out of the way so they don't have to stand around "sharing their journey" or whatever people happen to be chatting about after meeting. They all make decisions based on what they think someone else wants to do- which is a monumental thing I'm having a hard time getting myself to stop doing. I feel so much better now that I've started stopping.
Once a month, after meeting, is women's gathering. Last week, they announced woman's gathering this month, today, would be on the topic of creativity. One of the women who comes to meeting, who is a painter, told me last week that she was going to bring her knitting to women's gathering as she finds it mediational, and we had talked about knitting before. I have always found spirituality in working, and have often thought of my art as my religion, so I thought I might be able to say something to this. Plus, I felt she was daring me to stay.
I have been actively trying to win the war on my social anxiety. I am trying to open myself, to learn more, to be less cynical, less jaded. More hopeful. It is not easy. Especially with this inner voice I have. I think I have brought the inner voice to my side though, and now instead of yelling how pointless it all is, the voice yells as me to just get on with it. I have been trying to visualize myself opening up, relaxing, and I have this drill sergeant in my head, "Oopeen...IT, OOPEEEN IT!"
As the days led up to this today, I had the hardest time. I felt bad trying to figure out what to do with the girls. I didn't like that we'd have to take 2 cars. I wasn't sure if they bring pot luck lunch, or if you bring your own. I was nervous. I was anxious. I didn't want to go. I told myself I was stupid for wanting to go. I told myself I didn't want to go and felt obligated, so I shouldn't go. Today, finally, my inner drill sergeant woke up and told the rest of me to shut the fuck up. I called my mom to ask of she could take H with her to lunch and then home, told J he had S for the afternoon, ran to the store, last minute, to pick up some hummus and pita which I figured could double as potluck or my own lunch. Feeling like I'm inside myself kicking the boundaries, I made myself stay.
It was a little strange at times- a little drum circle-y. Although there were no drums. There was "a circle" where you all hold hands and then squeeze at the end. While we were doing this my head was jumping from one thought to the next: is this weird? What if I don't know when we're supposed to stop holding? My hands are on top- should they be on the bottom? Does it mean something that they're on top? Can they hear me breathing? Am I breathing weird? How long do we stand here? Why do you have to think about everything? None of these people are thinking this, they're all just peaceful, having a circle, why are you so nuts?
Drill sargent:" JESUS CHRIST! SHUTUP! You'll know when its over because it will be over and the rest DOESN'T MATTER"
We ate lunch- it was pot luck, my hummus was right on. Girl food, J calls it- bread, cheese, salad, and chocolate cake. One woman brought asparagus. I loved it. We talked- about Lucretia Mott, a Quaker reformer who was anti-slavery and fought for womens rights, about labrynhts and primal forests. About each of our individual strengths and creativity. I showed them my work. I told people I didn't know things about myself that I don't part with freely, not because they mean anything but because I am forever holding my cards to my chest. I got to know some really interesting woman that I may have just kept as acquaintances.
My understanding is that you have a circle at the beginning an the again at the end of the gathering. During the second 'circle' I was much more relaxed, and it actually felt a little spiritual. Like something was happening there. Which might be insane, but I was happy to have opened my mind a little. Even if it did take a crow bar.
I am trying to understand the part of me thats fighting this. The voice thats saying 'this isn't you' I know, even with out my drill sergeant, that it doesn't matter. I'm not redefining myself or trying to be anything I'm not (except maybe to be well adjusted and not a social anxious freak show) to do what I want, when I want. Why does part of me not like that? Why can't we all get along in this head of mine?
Friday, March 6, 2009
In pieces
S has turned out to be a great disassembler. I should have known, when she was about 4 months old she went through a phase of taking all the buttons off her clothes. It would get really quiet, and all of a sudden her jacket wouldn't close. Thankfully shes not one to put things in her mouth that aren't food. I keep finding ball point pens, the clicker ones, that don't work anymore because their parts have been removed.
S took apart one of H's small plastic figures the other day- one that has a brown pony tail AND purple pants. She was very popular with H, and in high rotation. J and I both tried to reassemble her tiny parts, under cover of darkness- I tried first and could put her back together, but she wouldn't stay. J couldn't resist the challenge and took his stab at reassembly while I stood there nay saying his every move. Again, she wouldn't keep her arms and legs from falling off. I couldn't bring myself to throw away the figure's body parts, (I need to have meetings and interventions with myself to throw away anything) inevitably H found her girl in pieces. Much wailing ensued. "Why didn't you TELL me?!" Indeed. I should have. She insisted I try and put her back together. I explained that Daddy and I had both tried and she wouldn't stay together. I tried to explain how glue is the enemy of movable parts. She gave me a long hard look, her eyes wide and full of tears, then pleaded, "Can't we use tape?" Ah, a girl after my own heart. We taped her. She looks like shes wearing a lifting belt to support her back. Her body taped shut holds in her head and extremities. She can still do a split. Brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?
S took apart one of H's small plastic figures the other day- one that has a brown pony tail AND purple pants. She was very popular with H, and in high rotation. J and I both tried to reassemble her tiny parts, under cover of darkness- I tried first and could put her back together, but she wouldn't stay. J couldn't resist the challenge and took his stab at reassembly while I stood there nay saying his every move. Again, she wouldn't keep her arms and legs from falling off. I couldn't bring myself to throw away the figure's body parts, (I need to have meetings and interventions with myself to throw away anything) inevitably H found her girl in pieces. Much wailing ensued. "Why didn't you TELL me?!" Indeed. I should have. She insisted I try and put her back together. I explained that Daddy and I had both tried and she wouldn't stay together. I tried to explain how glue is the enemy of movable parts. She gave me a long hard look, her eyes wide and full of tears, then pleaded, "Can't we use tape?" Ah, a girl after my own heart. We taped her. She looks like shes wearing a lifting belt to support her back. Her body taped shut holds in her head and extremities. She can still do a split. Brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Decision/Indecision
Today, in the car, (which together with the shower is most thought provoking place for me these days), I had a sudden jolting thought that caused me to gasp out loud: I've never made a decision. Actually, my exact thought was I think I've never made a decision. Case in point.
By decision I mean Decision, not all the little ones, like what to have for breakfast, although those can be hard too.
Decision. As in I'm behind the wheel of this life of mine, but I haven't been the one driving.
This could be why I tell myself I'm a believer in fate and superstition.
I've always been irritated by my indecisiveness, but (I think) it has been really screwing with me. My fear of failure and fear of success has me in this ridiculous tango where I always go for the lowest common denominator and then am disgruntled for existing below my potential. Resulting in constant angst.
No decision is a decision and this is what is makes things complicated.
I need to start actively deciding.
I think.
By decision I mean Decision, not all the little ones, like what to have for breakfast, although those can be hard too.
Decision. As in I'm behind the wheel of this life of mine, but I haven't been the one driving.
This could be why I tell myself I'm a believer in fate and superstition.
I've always been irritated by my indecisiveness, but (I think) it has been really screwing with me. My fear of failure and fear of success has me in this ridiculous tango where I always go for the lowest common denominator and then am disgruntled for existing below my potential. Resulting in constant angst.
No decision is a decision and this is what is makes things complicated.
I need to start actively deciding.
I think.
Stop judging
This is why I'm not going to the Y.
I still feel like crap. I think I'm turning into a mole. Or a vampire. Having major light sensitivity issues.
S feels like crap. I think. And even if she doesn't she has snot coming down her face at an alarming rate.
I just rushed all around the grocery store which took everything I had out of me. Despite my list I forgot to get a lot of stuff. S wouldn't sit in the cart, kept eating my list, and was generally being an anarchist. Then had a dirty diaper which means she will not sit down at all. Which is understandable, but still. Not convenient.
My gym clothes are dirty, I think- I'm not even sure where they are.
I'm hungry. So is S.
I have to ration my energy. I'm going to the flower show with my mom tonight to enjoy fake spring in a box, and we will need to look at every bud on every flower. And discuss. Its a tradition. It requires serious stamina.
I still feel guilty about leaving S to sit in a chair for an whole hour in the child care room at the Y and god damn it I would have pushed through if it weren't for the last one.
I still feel like crap. I think I'm turning into a mole. Or a vampire. Having major light sensitivity issues.
S feels like crap. I think. And even if she doesn't she has snot coming down her face at an alarming rate.
I just rushed all around the grocery store which took everything I had out of me. Despite my list I forgot to get a lot of stuff. S wouldn't sit in the cart, kept eating my list, and was generally being an anarchist. Then had a dirty diaper which means she will not sit down at all. Which is understandable, but still. Not convenient.
My gym clothes are dirty, I think- I'm not even sure where they are.
I'm hungry. So is S.
I have to ration my energy. I'm going to the flower show with my mom tonight to enjoy fake spring in a box, and we will need to look at every bud on every flower. And discuss. Its a tradition. It requires serious stamina.
I still feel guilty about leaving S to sit in a chair for an whole hour in the child care room at the Y and god damn it I would have pushed through if it weren't for the last one.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Head like a rock
I am the kind of sick where I feel like ass, but am still able to go about the necessities of the day. Which I guess is mom sick. I don't know that I could just sit around and be sick anyway- unless I am so sick the choice is made for me. Which fortunately I rarely am.
I feel crappy enough to want to stomp my feet and yell "no fair!" about a handful of things already and its only 7 am. S woke up at 6:15 in the mood to not take no for an answer. Which is always her mood- but she wanted to come downstairs NOW and she was going to go down stairs. Now. Her impatience is driving me mad. For instance, I agreed to come down stairs, now, with her, as I realized staying in bed peacefully was not an option. She had a tantrum anyway because of the time it took me to put on pants. I want to say to her "Really? you're freaking out because I'm taking 2 seconds to put on pants? Do you have any idea how patient I am with you the majority of the time?" Instead, I try to protect her little melon head from her thrashing while putting pants on with one hand in the dark. While feeling like someone stuffed the inside of my head, behind my eyes in particular, with that foam stuff used to seal cracks in houses. And sand papered my throat. I am one big renovation project.
I feel crappy enough to want to stomp my feet and yell "no fair!" about a handful of things already and its only 7 am. S woke up at 6:15 in the mood to not take no for an answer. Which is always her mood- but she wanted to come downstairs NOW and she was going to go down stairs. Now. Her impatience is driving me mad. For instance, I agreed to come down stairs, now, with her, as I realized staying in bed peacefully was not an option. She had a tantrum anyway because of the time it took me to put on pants. I want to say to her "Really? you're freaking out because I'm taking 2 seconds to put on pants? Do you have any idea how patient I am with you the majority of the time?" Instead, I try to protect her little melon head from her thrashing while putting pants on with one hand in the dark. While feeling like someone stuffed the inside of my head, behind my eyes in particular, with that foam stuff used to seal cracks in houses. And sand papered my throat. I am one big renovation project.
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