We had a good Christmas. Not our best, but pretty good. The boys were sick, so we were all very tired and a little grumpy, but I am thankful we were able to celebrate together. I know holidays can be stressful and that we sometimes aren't able to celebrate the way we would want, but I hope everyone had some good times and made some good memories and got at least one gift that was pretty great (or that you got gift receipts or gift cards and can end up with something pretty great).
2011 was kind of a strange year. I'm not going to do a recap of it, nor am I going to outline all my hopes and dreams for 2012. I think I'll just try to leave it as it was and take the next it as it comes. It would be great if there were less war, less hate, less discord, less hunger, and less sadness and if there were more peace, more respect, more love, more generosity, more opportunity, and more compassion. For the most part, these seem to be pipe dreams, but I hope we will all do what we can to discourage the former things and contribute to the latter.
That said, I'll wish everyone a wonderful New Year's Eve with people you care about and a very happy and prosperous New Year!
Showing posts with label Nothingness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nothingness. Show all posts
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Confession Friday
If I can't figure out how to write some good posts, I may as well use my blog as a form of therapy. I guess confession is supposed to make a person feel better. I don't actually feel bad, but everyone can always stand to feel better, right?
My confession of the week is that I kick things under the couch. Before I had kids and even when my kids were still pretty small, I maintained that my kids would clean up each thing or group of things as they went. They would know that before getting out the toy tractors, all the Trio blocks must be picked up and put away. And then before they got out the trains, the tractors had to be cleaned up. Books and magazines say this is the best method. And it really sounds great, doesn't it?
Only I live in real life. I work full time. Three days a week I work from home. I also have meals to cook and laundry to do and sanity to maintain on the weekends when my husband is at work. It is absolutely remarkable the number of things two boys can find to drag out while I'm putting in a load of laundry. Or answering emails. Or on a conference call. Or blinking.
So I've adopted a more real-life approach. All the toys will be picked up before bedtime. Of course, ideally this would be the two people who made the mess cleaning it up by themselves and without being prompted. It would also mean all the toys all over the entire house would be picked up and put where they belong. Reality is more like... the two boys being helped by whichever parent is home to clean up all the toys visible in the main area of the house. If we get to tidying the playroom, great. If not, we just close the door. Of course, all the pick-up is usually done in a hurry as we race the clock to bedtime.
So... can you really blame me when the house is finally quiet and the kitchen tidied, that I really don't feel like picking up any more toys? Sure, the kids should have picked up that ball or cardboard-tube-turned-spyglass or flip flop. And yes, squatting down to pick it up and then walking to put it away would almost count as exercise. But, if I take a good look at it and sweep it under the couch with my foot, then the living room will look clean when I flop down on the couch to catch up on reading, facebooking, or the DVR. And I will know exactly where said item is when someone is whining for it three days from now. And that will make me a hero.
I'll take being a bad-housekeeper-yet-hero-mom over those burning those five extra calories any day.
My confession of the week is that I kick things under the couch. Before I had kids and even when my kids were still pretty small, I maintained that my kids would clean up each thing or group of things as they went. They would know that before getting out the toy tractors, all the Trio blocks must be picked up and put away. And then before they got out the trains, the tractors had to be cleaned up. Books and magazines say this is the best method. And it really sounds great, doesn't it?
Only I live in real life. I work full time. Three days a week I work from home. I also have meals to cook and laundry to do and sanity to maintain on the weekends when my husband is at work. It is absolutely remarkable the number of things two boys can find to drag out while I'm putting in a load of laundry. Or answering emails. Or on a conference call. Or blinking.
So I've adopted a more real-life approach. All the toys will be picked up before bedtime. Of course, ideally this would be the two people who made the mess cleaning it up by themselves and without being prompted. It would also mean all the toys all over the entire house would be picked up and put where they belong. Reality is more like... the two boys being helped by whichever parent is home to clean up all the toys visible in the main area of the house. If we get to tidying the playroom, great. If not, we just close the door. Of course, all the pick-up is usually done in a hurry as we race the clock to bedtime.
So... can you really blame me when the house is finally quiet and the kitchen tidied, that I really don't feel like picking up any more toys? Sure, the kids should have picked up that ball or cardboard-tube-turned-spyglass or flip flop. And yes, squatting down to pick it up and then walking to put it away would almost count as exercise. But, if I take a good look at it and sweep it under the couch with my foot, then the living room will look clean when I flop down on the couch to catch up on reading, facebooking, or the DVR. And I will know exactly where said item is when someone is whining for it three days from now. And that will make me a hero.
I'll take being a bad-housekeeper-yet-hero-mom over those burning those five extra calories any day.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Confession Time
I was just going to add a little blurb to my post tonight, confessing that I'm failing miserably at my "alternate day" writing, but then I figured I may as well do an entire confession post. Why not?
As I've already said, I failed at writing every day. There is just too much going on. Too many days when I feel beaten down by things at work or overwhelmed by things at home or I'm just too busy. I'm trying to be okay with it since I'm still posting on here with realitive consistancy, but I am a bit dissapointed in myself.
I cherish alone time. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband and my kids and the rest of my family and my friends. I appreciate the time I get to spend with the people I care about. But I also have to admit that I am kinda a loner. I like my commute when I can listen to NPR without interruption and the the nights when Ryan is at work and the boys are in bed and I am alone with my thoughts and can kinda do what I want (you know, like write run-on sentences or eat too much Boursin cheese). It may be weird, but it's me.
I am not nearly as conservative as many people assume I am. I grew up in a conservative family and I was homeschooled(!) and went to a midwestern Christian college where dancing and drinking were not allowed. I can understand (mostly) why people are staunchly conservative, and I think that if we lived in an ideal world where everyone had equal opportunity and upbringing and access, then MAYBE the conservative views would be accpetable in a lot of circumstances. But, in case you haven't looked around or watched the news or visited anywhere outside your upper-middle class subdivision... we don't live in an ideal world. So I think that issues and problems in this country and in this world need to be looked at individually and evaluated for the best way to make things work to the benefit of the people who really need it. And if that means giving someone free access to birth control or helping them buy groceries to feed their family, I'm okay with it.
I am addicted to Food Network. I think I may have mentioned something like this before, but I really think it might be an issue. If I have control of the TV and it is on, it is probably on Food Network. This is an issue for me since I am really not that good of a cook and watching it makes me hungry and then I eat food that isn't good for me. But whatever. It does sometimes inspire me to make things I'd never thought of trying before. I've actually made popovers. And my kids ate them. For the most part.
I am not a baby person. I know I have mentioned this before too, but it is true. I'm happy for other people if they have babies, but I'm totally fine with not having any more babies. This is why it doesn't make me sad that my kids are way past the baby stage. I can deal with kids, but babies are a real challenge for me. My kids can tell me what's up and help me with stuff. Babies cry and scream and screech and rob you of sleep. Do you see where I'm coming from?
I hate being cold. Not sure if it qualifies as a confession since I've never kept it a secret, but to me being cold equals physical pain. I reall hate it and I wish it could be warm all year. Why can't it?
This isn't a very good confession post, but it's Friday, at the end of a long week, and I'm tired. Yay.
As I've already said, I failed at writing every day. There is just too much going on. Too many days when I feel beaten down by things at work or overwhelmed by things at home or I'm just too busy. I'm trying to be okay with it since I'm still posting on here with realitive consistancy, but I am a bit dissapointed in myself.
I cherish alone time. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband and my kids and the rest of my family and my friends. I appreciate the time I get to spend with the people I care about. But I also have to admit that I am kinda a loner. I like my commute when I can listen to NPR without interruption and the the nights when Ryan is at work and the boys are in bed and I am alone with my thoughts and can kinda do what I want (you know, like write run-on sentences or eat too much Boursin cheese). It may be weird, but it's me.
I am not nearly as conservative as many people assume I am. I grew up in a conservative family and I was homeschooled(!) and went to a midwestern Christian college where dancing and drinking were not allowed. I can understand (mostly) why people are staunchly conservative, and I think that if we lived in an ideal world where everyone had equal opportunity and upbringing and access, then MAYBE the conservative views would be accpetable in a lot of circumstances. But, in case you haven't looked around or watched the news or visited anywhere outside your upper-middle class subdivision... we don't live in an ideal world. So I think that issues and problems in this country and in this world need to be looked at individually and evaluated for the best way to make things work to the benefit of the people who really need it. And if that means giving someone free access to birth control or helping them buy groceries to feed their family, I'm okay with it.
I am addicted to Food Network. I think I may have mentioned something like this before, but I really think it might be an issue. If I have control of the TV and it is on, it is probably on Food Network. This is an issue for me since I am really not that good of a cook and watching it makes me hungry and then I eat food that isn't good for me. But whatever. It does sometimes inspire me to make things I'd never thought of trying before. I've actually made popovers. And my kids ate them. For the most part.
I am not a baby person. I know I have mentioned this before too, but it is true. I'm happy for other people if they have babies, but I'm totally fine with not having any more babies. This is why it doesn't make me sad that my kids are way past the baby stage. I can deal with kids, but babies are a real challenge for me. My kids can tell me what's up and help me with stuff. Babies cry and scream and screech and rob you of sleep. Do you see where I'm coming from?
I hate being cold. Not sure if it qualifies as a confession since I've never kept it a secret, but to me being cold equals physical pain. I reall hate it and I wish it could be warm all year. Why can't it?
This isn't a very good confession post, but it's Friday, at the end of a long week, and I'm tired. Yay.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Un-Me
Today I did something completely un-'me'. I took an entire day for something I wanted to do.... all by myself. I have this thing where I am always thinking about other people. Believe me, I do not mean that in an I'm-completely-selfless-and-a-great-person kind of way. I screw up all the time. I let people down. Far too often, I fail to follow-up or follow-thru. What I mean by always thinking about other people is that there are few things I do, with the exception of the typical everyday minutiae, that do not involve giving consideration to at least one other person. This is certainly not a bad thing. Such is life when you are a wife/mother/daughter/sister/friend/employee.
What I did today was foreign to me that I actually had to make myself stick to it. I went to get my tattoo worked on without anyone else accompanying me. Every other time I've been tattooed, I've had at least one friend with me. It is so fun to make a whole day of it with a friend or some friends, to share that time and that experience, and to all come away with your own piece of permanent art. So being alone was a little weird at first, but I'm so glad I did it. I had almost three hours of time to just drive, listen to music, think, pray, and observe all the crazy drivers. I am friends with my tattoo artist, but he gets easily absorbed in his work so even my time at the shop left me with a lot of time inside my own head.
What I did today was foreign to me that I actually had to make myself stick to it. I went to get my tattoo worked on without anyone else accompanying me. Every other time I've been tattooed, I've had at least one friend with me. It is so fun to make a whole day of it with a friend or some friends, to share that time and that experience, and to all come away with your own piece of permanent art. So being alone was a little weird at first, but I'm so glad I did it. I had almost three hours of time to just drive, listen to music, think, pray, and observe all the crazy drivers. I am friends with my tattoo artist, but he gets easily absorbed in his work so even my time at the shop left me with a lot of time inside my own head.
My tattoo isn't finished yet and my arm is throbbing, but I feel strangely relaxed. I know this will not be a frequent occurrence in the future, but I need to try to make time to do something like this once or twice a year. To do something all alone, away from my house, to take some time to regroup. I love the times I get to spend going on a date with my husband sans kids and (most of) the times I spend with just my kids and the times I spend with friends. Yet I realized that somehow in all that planning of special times with other people, I was counting those times as my "me" time. Today I remembered that it is okay to take some "me" time for only me.
Friday, April 2, 2010
How can I reclaim it?
Foolish, how was I so careless
Pawning off my treasure, the envy of an heiress
Now my dollars are crumbled in my pocket
How can I reclaim it?
What if someone's got it?
- A Fine Frenzy
I'm pretty sure I have forgotten how to write. Lost my ability, pawned it off, had it stolen.... something. I've lost count of the number of time in the past month I sat down in front of a Blogger post box or with a pen in my head, wanting to write, and.... nothing.
I have lots of excuses. Winter. Coldness. Illness. Work. Stress. Only I've gone through more difficult times and haven't experienced writer's block at this level. No idea.
Pawning off my treasure, the envy of an heiress
Now my dollars are crumbled in my pocket
How can I reclaim it?
What if someone's got it?
- A Fine Frenzy
I'm pretty sure I have forgotten how to write. Lost my ability, pawned it off, had it stolen.... something. I've lost count of the number of time in the past month I sat down in front of a Blogger post box or with a pen in my head, wanting to write, and.... nothing.
I have lots of excuses. Winter. Coldness. Illness. Work. Stress. Only I've gone through more difficult times and haven't experienced writer's block at this level. No idea.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Love/Hate
I was hoping for some surge of inspiration to suddenly hit me today since it is the first day of April and I am supposed to have something to write for every day this month. Well... that didn't happen. So now I'm going to post this cheat post of things I love and things I hate and maybe tomorrow I will have something more worth reading.
I love when I wake up thinking I overslept only to realize it's the weekend and I don't have to get out of bed till the boys wake up.
I hate when the boys wake up super-early on the weekend when I could have slept in.
I love getting all warm and cozy under a blanket on the couch and watching a movie.
I hate when the movie is over and I have to get up and I'm even more cold than I was before.
I love when a public restroom has seat covers so I don't have to 'hover.'
I hate when those stupid self-flush toilets flush down the cover as soon as I put it on because the sensor is set wrong.
I love, love, love when we have the first Summertime day of the year and it is warm enough to open the windows and walk around barefoot at home without being even a little bit cold.
I hate when those days are just teasers and give way to cold, rainy springtime weather.
I love when I have something fascinating to write about and I sit down to write it and it all comes together.
I hate when something like this post is all I can come up with.
I love when I wake up thinking I overslept only to realize it's the weekend and I don't have to get out of bed till the boys wake up.
I hate when the boys wake up super-early on the weekend when I could have slept in.
I love getting all warm and cozy under a blanket on the couch and watching a movie.
I hate when the movie is over and I have to get up and I'm even more cold than I was before.
I love when a public restroom has seat covers so I don't have to 'hover.'
I hate when those stupid self-flush toilets flush down the cover as soon as I put it on because the sensor is set wrong.
I love, love, love when we have the first Summertime day of the year and it is warm enough to open the windows and walk around barefoot at home without being even a little bit cold.
I hate when those days are just teasers and give way to cold, rainy springtime weather.
I love when I have something fascinating to write about and I sit down to write it and it all comes together.
I hate when something like this post is all I can come up with.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
A Half Tattoo is Better Than Nothing
I realized something about myself this morning. When something is really bothering me, I tend to shy away from some of the things that might help me the most. Even though I know I shouldn't be that way, I guess I just feel that I don't have what it takes to force myself to expend the additional mental and emotional energy needed to do what I should. One of the things that helps me is my writing, but I just haven't been making myself do it. I have more thoughts on this, but I'm not ready to write them out quite yet. I will though. And I'm going to do another write-everyday-month next month. I need to get myself back on track.
Until then, here is a pic of my new tattoo! Kind of! The artist scheduled two of my friends and me for appointments that day, but then he got a pseudo-girlfriend and made plans with her for Saturday night and didn't have time to finish my tattoo. Now I have to drive all the way back up there next month to get the rest of my tattoo. I am completely annoyed by this, but good things come to those who wait, right? RIGHT??
Just imagine it looks like the picture of the flower from my previous post.
That's what I'm doing.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Just Give Me the Meds
I hate going to the doctor. Not that many people really enjoy it, but I really try to avoid ever going to the doctor (aside from my yearly appointment where I get the prescription that keeps me from having to go through another 40 weeks of torture commonly known as pregnancy).
Sadly, the result of my recent three-week cold was an extremely painful acute sinus infection. I can wait out a cold with the help of some aspirin and decongestant. I cannot wait out an infection that feels like someone pummeled me in the face. Ow. When this lovely sinus infection paid me a visit, I had to break down and go to the doctor.
The first doctor I had growing up was an enormous old German guy who had an office in a converted 1950s house. The waiting room had Formica everything and smelled like pills and rubbing alcohol. The long hallway back to the exam rooms were lined with shelves filled with glass jars of all sorts of pills, salves, tongue depressors, and cotton balls. Now that I think of it I have no idea if it is legal for a doctor to dispense meds directly from his office, but that was possibly before any laws regulating such things.
The two exam rooms were separated by a double doorway that had a curtain instead of doors. You had to walk through the first one to get to the other one. The first room had a large panoramic photograph on the wall of the doctor in younger days, standing with his five sons on the rim of the Grand Canyon. They were all wearing bell-bottom pants and had Dukes of Hazzard hair. I always wondered how the doctor evolved from the man in that picture into the large, frightening, million-year-old bald man in the doctor's coat who gave me shots. He barked rather than talked and I couldn't understand anything he said because his German accent was so thick. I distinctly remember many times sitting on that cold exam table, starting at that photo, and waiting for shots.
The only time I remember being in the other exam room was when I cut my forehead open running through the house and falling against a table leg. Blood was everywhere and my mom took me to the doctor to get butterfly stitches. It must have cost a lot to get them, because the other two times I busted my head open, my mom and my aunt did the butterfly stitches themselves. Yes, I still have scars.
The doctor I went to for my sinus infection is nothing like that doctor. He is young, probably only 8 or 10 years older than I am. He carries a laptop with him everywhere and types into it as you talk to him. Maybe he is typing what you tell him or maybe he is chatting on Facebook. I have no idea. Either way, his office seems very technologically advanced and he is not scary. I still hate going there. Something about putting my well-being at the mercy of another person who sees hundreds of people a week and often, if not directly inflicting pain on someone has to tell people to just deal with pain, gets to me. Being dependent on him to provide treatment that will actually help, makes me feel like a little girl sitting on an exam table in a converted house waiting for something I'm dreading.
Like I said, I still have scars.
Sadly, the result of my recent three-week cold was an extremely painful acute sinus infection. I can wait out a cold with the help of some aspirin and decongestant. I cannot wait out an infection that feels like someone pummeled me in the face. Ow. When this lovely sinus infection paid me a visit, I had to break down and go to the doctor.
The first doctor I had growing up was an enormous old German guy who had an office in a converted 1950s house. The waiting room had Formica everything and smelled like pills and rubbing alcohol. The long hallway back to the exam rooms were lined with shelves filled with glass jars of all sorts of pills, salves, tongue depressors, and cotton balls. Now that I think of it I have no idea if it is legal for a doctor to dispense meds directly from his office, but that was possibly before any laws regulating such things.
The two exam rooms were separated by a double doorway that had a curtain instead of doors. You had to walk through the first one to get to the other one. The first room had a large panoramic photograph on the wall of the doctor in younger days, standing with his five sons on the rim of the Grand Canyon. They were all wearing bell-bottom pants and had Dukes of Hazzard hair. I always wondered how the doctor evolved from the man in that picture into the large, frightening, million-year-old bald man in the doctor's coat who gave me shots. He barked rather than talked and I couldn't understand anything he said because his German accent was so thick. I distinctly remember many times sitting on that cold exam table, starting at that photo, and waiting for shots.
The only time I remember being in the other exam room was when I cut my forehead open running through the house and falling against a table leg. Blood was everywhere and my mom took me to the doctor to get butterfly stitches. It must have cost a lot to get them, because the other two times I busted my head open, my mom and my aunt did the butterfly stitches themselves. Yes, I still have scars.
The doctor I went to for my sinus infection is nothing like that doctor. He is young, probably only 8 or 10 years older than I am. He carries a laptop with him everywhere and types into it as you talk to him. Maybe he is typing what you tell him or maybe he is chatting on Facebook. I have no idea. Either way, his office seems very technologically advanced and he is not scary. I still hate going there. Something about putting my well-being at the mercy of another person who sees hundreds of people a week and often, if not directly inflicting pain on someone has to tell people to just deal with pain, gets to me. Being dependent on him to provide treatment that will actually help, makes me feel like a little girl sitting on an exam table in a converted house waiting for something I'm dreading.
Like I said, I still have scars.
Monday, February 1, 2010
I Did It!
It feels really weird to not have to post today. This isn't really a real post. More of a I-can't-believe-I-actually-did-it thing I'm posting on my blog. I've tried several times before and January 2010 was the first time I really finished a write-every-day month with a post for each day. And despite how much I hated January and hate winter in general, I just realized tonight that I'm pretty darn proud of myself for actually reaching my goal. Oh, and I can complain about winter again now since it's a different month.
So, next time I do it (a long, long time from now), I will go for quality as well as quantity. It would be nice if I could be proud of every post. But for now, I'm going to try to just be happy that I managed to write a little something each day, for 31 days in a row
So, next time I do it (a long, long time from now), I will go for quality as well as quantity. It would be nice if I could be proud of every post. But for now, I'm going to try to just be happy that I managed to write a little something each day, for 31 days in a row
Thursday, January 28, 2010
My To-Do List
I have a lot on my mind. Yes, I know everyone does, but I think all the stress at work and the being sick and the having sick kids has overwhelmed my brain. I'm having trouble keeping track of all the stuff I should be doing or even want to do. What better time for a to-do list post? Here are some things on my to-do list, in absolutely no particular order:
1. Have a good weekend. Last week, last weekend, and this week were terrible. This weekend MUST be a good one.
2. Find the motivation to finish that one thing at work I've been putting off because no one cares that it isn't finished.
3. Get another tattoo. I'm surprised that didn't make the #1 spot since I've been obsessing about it so much. But I did say no particular order.
4. Fold the laundry. Almost all of our clothes are clean, but they are piled in the laundry room in baskets. Somehow I have managed to find the time to continue washing and drying the laundry, but not the motivation to fold it.
5. Catch up on the boys photo albums. I don't do scrapbooking. I have neither the time, nor the creativity, to scrapbook. However, I have determined that I will put their photos chronologically in albums instead of stashing them in boxes like my mom did with photos of my sisters and me.
6. Finish reading those three books I've started. Yeah... I suck.
7. Figure out how to transfer my BC prescription from our old insurance prescription service to the new one.
8. Volunteer again at the Freestore Foodbank. Great organization and I think I should support them with my time and not just my money.
9. Get a pet otter. They are so cute! (Okay, so Ryan already told me I can't have one and I know this is completely unrealistic, but I still want one.)
10. Learn to speak Spanish. What list would be complete without learning a second language? Plus, I need to understand the locals a little when we go to Spain to visit my friend Maria.
11. Learn to play golf. My husband and my son are already into it and my youngest is interested. I own clubs. I need to learn to play so it can be a family activity.
12. Get the blue marker stain off the carpet in the living room. Ryan made an attempt at it today, but now it's just a big, blue smudge. I need to take care of it before we can have company again.
Okay. I think that's enough for now. I know the pet otter thing is ridiculous. But I've said I want an otter for years, so I have to put it on every list even though I know in reality that is crazy and I'm not getting one. For the remaining items.... good luck to me.
1. Have a good weekend. Last week, last weekend, and this week were terrible. This weekend MUST be a good one.
2. Find the motivation to finish that one thing at work I've been putting off because no one cares that it isn't finished.
3. Get another tattoo. I'm surprised that didn't make the #1 spot since I've been obsessing about it so much. But I did say no particular order.
4. Fold the laundry. Almost all of our clothes are clean, but they are piled in the laundry room in baskets. Somehow I have managed to find the time to continue washing and drying the laundry, but not the motivation to fold it.
5. Catch up on the boys photo albums. I don't do scrapbooking. I have neither the time, nor the creativity, to scrapbook. However, I have determined that I will put their photos chronologically in albums instead of stashing them in boxes like my mom did with photos of my sisters and me.
6. Finish reading those three books I've started. Yeah... I suck.
7. Figure out how to transfer my BC prescription from our old insurance prescription service to the new one.
8. Volunteer again at the Freestore Foodbank. Great organization and I think I should support them with my time and not just my money.
9. Get a pet otter. They are so cute! (Okay, so Ryan already told me I can't have one and I know this is completely unrealistic, but I still want one.)
10. Learn to speak Spanish. What list would be complete without learning a second language? Plus, I need to understand the locals a little when we go to Spain to visit my friend Maria.
11. Learn to play golf. My husband and my son are already into it and my youngest is interested. I own clubs. I need to learn to play so it can be a family activity.
12. Get the blue marker stain off the carpet in the living room. Ryan made an attempt at it today, but now it's just a big, blue smudge. I need to take care of it before we can have company again.
Okay. I think that's enough for now. I know the pet otter thing is ridiculous. But I've said I want an otter for years, so I have to put it on every list even though I know in reality that is crazy and I'm not getting one. For the remaining items.... good luck to me.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I Need Out
It is confirmed. I am a terrible mother. Okay, not really, but these last five days have been some of the longest of my life. I went to work on Tuesday, but stayed home the rest of the week due to illness. I have established once and for all that I could never, ever be a full-time mom. I am about to go out of my mind. Even though I was working at home Wednesday through Friday, I was still at home. With my kids. And Friday and Saturday it was only the three of us.
This isn't anything against full-time moms. This is completely personal. I have been thinking all day about what to write for today's post, but I have done nothing this week I can write about other than take care of, clean up, talk to, listen to, read to, play with, and comfort my kids. By the time the boys were in bed and actually asleep the last two days, I collapsed on the couch and watched Food Network Nighttime until I fell asleep.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kids. I do want to be there when they are sick or when they learn something new or when they need me. But I need a break from them. On a regular basis. With the exception of my horrific trip to the doctor yesterday, I have not left the house in those five days, and the only break I had from the boys was after they went to bed. I love them, but I need the chance to miss them.
So maybe this makes me a terrible mother. Or maybe it just makes me a realist. I love my boys and they love me. But they are boys and they will graduate from high school and they will go off into their lives and I will only hear from them when they need something or on holidays... if I'm lucky enough for them to remember to call me. They are independent little people who have their own lives, even though at this stage they still need me.
So at least now I know for sure. Any days in the future when I am sitting at my desk at work and the thought crosses my mind that maybe my kids would be better off with me at home, I can think back to this week. And I will remember that, for their sake and mine, it is better for me to work and to have have time away from them so that when I am with them we can really enjoy each other.
This isn't anything against full-time moms. This is completely personal. I have been thinking all day about what to write for today's post, but I have done nothing this week I can write about other than take care of, clean up, talk to, listen to, read to, play with, and comfort my kids. By the time the boys were in bed and actually asleep the last two days, I collapsed on the couch and watched Food Network Nighttime until I fell asleep.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kids. I do want to be there when they are sick or when they learn something new or when they need me. But I need a break from them. On a regular basis. With the exception of my horrific trip to the doctor yesterday, I have not left the house in those five days, and the only break I had from the boys was after they went to bed. I love them, but I need the chance to miss them.
So maybe this makes me a terrible mother. Or maybe it just makes me a realist. I love my boys and they love me. But they are boys and they will graduate from high school and they will go off into their lives and I will only hear from them when they need something or on holidays... if I'm lucky enough for them to remember to call me. They are independent little people who have their own lives, even though at this stage they still need me.
So at least now I know for sure. Any days in the future when I am sitting at my desk at work and the thought crosses my mind that maybe my kids would be better off with me at home, I can think back to this week. And I will remember that, for their sake and mine, it is better for me to work and to have have time away from them so that when I am with them we can really enjoy each other.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
I Have All the Fun
Ugh. Now I have a sick kid. I am tired. So, so tired. I am holding a sick kid and typing with one hand. I have no motivation and nothing to write about. Well, I have things I could write about, like how I've discovered that my youngest kid can cough until he gags and vomits or that his not-sick brother gets sick at the sight of him throwing up, but I'd rather not.
I have so many things to do and so many people to reply to in email or on Facebook. I just feel like I don't have the time nor the energy to do any of it. Maybe another day I will have time. Or motivation. Or won't be holding a sick kid. Time will tell, I guess. We'll see.
I have so many things to do and so many people to reply to in email or on Facebook. I just feel like I don't have the time nor the energy to do any of it. Maybe another day I will have time. Or motivation. Or won't be holding a sick kid. Time will tell, I guess. We'll see.
Is January Over Yet?
Surprisingly, tonight I am not wishing January away due to the weather. Tonight I am wishing it away because I'm not sure I'm going to make it all the way to the end of the month with a post for every day. I am really running out of ideas here. At the very least, I've hit a mid-month dry spell. So I am totally going to cheat and just post something about my kids. Here is a picture of one of the things I love about my boys. They are so creative in finding ways to entertain themselves. I really don't even know why we bother to buy them toys.
One very boring day, they were playing store with a few cans from our pantry. We often get comments on our pantry being well-stocked, but we don't live 2 seconds from a supermarket and I shop sales. If some canned good we use frequently is on sale, I stock-the-heck up. It won't go to waste and saves money. Why else would you even have a pantry if you didn't want a place to store food?
Anyway, one of the boys started lining up a few cans on the counter so I could 'buy' them and suddenly that turned into trying to line the entire island with cans. They did this entirely by themselves. Oh, to be so easily entertained and then so proud of yourself for accomplishing.... nothing!
So that is my cheat for the week. I will try to be back tomorrow with something that resembles an actual post.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
I Rest My Case
I know I have been a little harsh on Winter this month. I mean, he totally deserves it, but I thought maybe I should give some sort of explanation for my hatred. I've sorted through my long list of reasons, and decided the best explanation is that Winter combines two of my deepest hates into a terrible 5-6 month ordeal: being cold and dress pants. I know I addressed my hate for dress pants in this previous post and several of my other old posts address how much I hate being cold. I've also said how much I love summer and dresses way back here.
I work in an office where the attire is 'business casual.' I know there seems to be a lot of variation among what people consider business casual, but I take that to mean I should dress up more than my weekend attire of comfy jeans and a hoodie. For a non-fashionista such as myself, dresses are perfect for business casual. Dresses allow me to look put-together without any of the laboring over what shirt is the right color, cut, and style to go with what pants. Well, in winter, it is really too cold to wear dresses most of the time. Sometimes you get lucky with a not-too-frigid day and can wear a dress or skirt with tights and tall boots, but for the most part no. For the most part, a girl in a business casual workplace in the Midwest must wear the dreaded dress pants.
Dress pants are so terrible. Inexpensive ones pill up and stretch out to the point that you look like you're wearing knobby jockey pants, bagging all around your butt and hips. Nice ones are very expensive, but they stretch out a little too (not as much, but still!). I try to buy my dress pants on clearance at nicer stores, but they still set me back at least $35. That is a lot of money for an article of clothing I don't even like!
Then there is the problem of what size to purchase. I'm 5'3". That makes me too tall for petite sizes unless I am going to wear ballet flats. Did I mention I'm 5'3"? I don't own any ballet flats. But regular sizes are made for women who are at least 5'8". They are usually too long for me, even wearing my tallest heels. That means I either have to pay to have them altered (making them cost more money) or I have to try to hem them myself (which I have tried with varying degrees of success). Ugh.
So, I'm kinda screwed on the length. There's nothing I can really do about that. Size is something else. I put on the size that fits at the store and it looks okay. But I know that if I buy that size, by the third time I wear the pants, they will be trying to fall off my hips. However, if I buy the next-size-down, they are pretty tight. Tight enough that the first few times I wear them, I will be self-conscious about just how tight they are. Yet, I'm always concerned that I will buy the tighter pair and they won't stretch and I'll be stuck with tight pants that I feel weird wearing in public. See why I hate dress pants?
I think I've covered the being cold thing pretty well in my most recent winter posts. I do think it is physically painful to be cold and I hate it. And I have to wear dress pants to work in the winter to try to prevent myself from being that cold and feeling that pain. And the cycle continues. As I said before, there are a lot of other reasons why I hate winter, but dress pants and being cold were the two that won out for writing's sake. I will try not to complain any more about winter on my blog (this month). I think I've provided a good argument and offered some insight into my insanity. I rest my case.
I work in an office where the attire is 'business casual.' I know there seems to be a lot of variation among what people consider business casual, but I take that to mean I should dress up more than my weekend attire of comfy jeans and a hoodie. For a non-fashionista such as myself, dresses are perfect for business casual. Dresses allow me to look put-together without any of the laboring over what shirt is the right color, cut, and style to go with what pants. Well, in winter, it is really too cold to wear dresses most of the time. Sometimes you get lucky with a not-too-frigid day and can wear a dress or skirt with tights and tall boots, but for the most part no. For the most part, a girl in a business casual workplace in the Midwest must wear the dreaded dress pants.
Dress pants are so terrible. Inexpensive ones pill up and stretch out to the point that you look like you're wearing knobby jockey pants, bagging all around your butt and hips. Nice ones are very expensive, but they stretch out a little too (not as much, but still!). I try to buy my dress pants on clearance at nicer stores, but they still set me back at least $35. That is a lot of money for an article of clothing I don't even like!
Then there is the problem of what size to purchase. I'm 5'3". That makes me too tall for petite sizes unless I am going to wear ballet flats. Did I mention I'm 5'3"? I don't own any ballet flats. But regular sizes are made for women who are at least 5'8". They are usually too long for me, even wearing my tallest heels. That means I either have to pay to have them altered (making them cost more money) or I have to try to hem them myself (which I have tried with varying degrees of success). Ugh.
So, I'm kinda screwed on the length. There's nothing I can really do about that. Size is something else. I put on the size that fits at the store and it looks okay. But I know that if I buy that size, by the third time I wear the pants, they will be trying to fall off my hips. However, if I buy the next-size-down, they are pretty tight. Tight enough that the first few times I wear them, I will be self-conscious about just how tight they are. Yet, I'm always concerned that I will buy the tighter pair and they won't stretch and I'll be stuck with tight pants that I feel weird wearing in public. See why I hate dress pants?
I think I've covered the being cold thing pretty well in my most recent winter posts. I do think it is physically painful to be cold and I hate it. And I have to wear dress pants to work in the winter to try to prevent myself from being that cold and feeling that pain. And the cycle continues. As I said before, there are a lot of other reasons why I hate winter, but dress pants and being cold were the two that won out for writing's sake. I will try not to complain any more about winter on my blog (this month). I think I've provided a good argument and offered some insight into my insanity. I rest my case.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
More Craziness. Why Not?
I'm not sure if it is okay for me to have a very favorite blog post of all my blog posts, but if it is, this one right here is it. I don't know why, since it is basically just putting a tiny sliver of my insanity out there for everyone to see. I guess it's that I actually sat down and wrote it all out like that so that I could clearly see why it takes me so long to get ready for anything.
This craziness is not limited to going out, however. Even something as simple as getting and drinking a cup of coffee on a weekend morning is usually a huge production. I will pour the coffee and heat it up in the microwave so it will still be hot even after I add half-and-half. Since it is out of sight for 30 seconds, I start to do something else. The something else is often checking my email and then one of the boys sees that my attention is not on them so he will ask for something. I will get that and then the other boy will want it too so I have to fill that request. I'll notice the fire needs stoked so I'll add some wood to it. Then I'll see that our the stack of wood in our wood alcove is getting low, so, not wanting to have to be bringing wood in after dark, I'll put on my coat and gloves and carry in several loads of wood.
What was I doing? Oh... coffee... right. I will have to heat it back up for a few seconds, but this time I will stay by the microwave and get it out as soon as it is hot. I'll add half-and-half and start sipping (no, I didn't forget the sugar, I only drink my coffee with cream). I'll think about what I need to do next. Then I'll have to help the boys with something else. Then I'll remember I need to wash Ryan's CT scrubs so I'll go to the laundry room with my coffee and set it down on the counter in there. I'll switch over the wet laundry to the dryer and start the load of scrubs (hopefully remembering I'm not supposed to use fabric softener). The boys will start fighting over something since I'm out of sight, so I will intervene.
Once they are playing nice again, I'll start straightening up and then maybe try again to check my email. Then I'll remember the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and start working on that. Around this time I'll start to wonder why I'm getting a headache. Oh. It's because I haven't had more than a couple sips of coffee. Hmmm.... if I could only find my coffee mug.
This craziness is not limited to going out, however. Even something as simple as getting and drinking a cup of coffee on a weekend morning is usually a huge production. I will pour the coffee and heat it up in the microwave so it will still be hot even after I add half-and-half. Since it is out of sight for 30 seconds, I start to do something else. The something else is often checking my email and then one of the boys sees that my attention is not on them so he will ask for something. I will get that and then the other boy will want it too so I have to fill that request. I'll notice the fire needs stoked so I'll add some wood to it. Then I'll see that our the stack of wood in our wood alcove is getting low, so, not wanting to have to be bringing wood in after dark, I'll put on my coat and gloves and carry in several loads of wood.
What was I doing? Oh... coffee... right. I will have to heat it back up for a few seconds, but this time I will stay by the microwave and get it out as soon as it is hot. I'll add half-and-half and start sipping (no, I didn't forget the sugar, I only drink my coffee with cream). I'll think about what I need to do next. Then I'll have to help the boys with something else. Then I'll remember I need to wash Ryan's CT scrubs so I'll go to the laundry room with my coffee and set it down on the counter in there. I'll switch over the wet laundry to the dryer and start the load of scrubs (hopefully remembering I'm not supposed to use fabric softener). The boys will start fighting over something since I'm out of sight, so I will intervene.
Once they are playing nice again, I'll start straightening up and then maybe try again to check my email. Then I'll remember the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and start working on that. Around this time I'll start to wonder why I'm getting a headache. Oh. It's because I haven't had more than a couple sips of coffee. Hmmm.... if I could only find my coffee mug.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Crash and Burn
So.... here I am. Day 4. I've already realized that I am failing at my attempt. I just don't seem to have "it" any more. Not that I previously had these amazing things to write about every time I blogged, but I didn't usually obsess over how terrible I thought my work was for hours after I'd posted. I feel like I come up with an idea for a post and mull it over in my head, but when I go to write it, the whole theme just falls apart. Then I end up posting some jumbled nonsense that barely resembles the idea I had previously formed in my mind.
What to do, what to do? I don't want to throw in the towel already, but I also don't know what I'll do if I reach the end of the month and feel like I wasn't able to come up with at least a few decent posts. Grrrr..... stupid writer's block or writer's cramp or whatever this is called.
My friend Irena and I were talking about how much easier it was to write in college because, even if you weren't writing about a subject that interested you, you at least had lots of varying mental stimulation from all the different subjects you're studying at once. There is something about the daily routine of a job and a life where you do basically the same thing day after day that just crushes part of your creativity. And it's not like I do data entry for a living (no offense to any data entry people). I have a pretty interesting job where I get to work with people in all aspects of our company and delve into issues to determine what happened with things that I previously knew nothing about. It's not a mindless job, yet it's still like I can feel it sucking the creativity right out of me.
I guess I'll keep at it for now. Maybe I can find some things to read for inspiration. Maybe I can find a way to write in complete thoughts that go together and make sense. Maybe.
What to do, what to do? I don't want to throw in the towel already, but I also don't know what I'll do if I reach the end of the month and feel like I wasn't able to come up with at least a few decent posts. Grrrr..... stupid writer's block or writer's cramp or whatever this is called.
My friend Irena and I were talking about how much easier it was to write in college because, even if you weren't writing about a subject that interested you, you at least had lots of varying mental stimulation from all the different subjects you're studying at once. There is something about the daily routine of a job and a life where you do basically the same thing day after day that just crushes part of your creativity. And it's not like I do data entry for a living (no offense to any data entry people). I have a pretty interesting job where I get to work with people in all aspects of our company and delve into issues to determine what happened with things that I previously knew nothing about. It's not a mindless job, yet it's still like I can feel it sucking the creativity right out of me.
I guess I'll keep at it for now. Maybe I can find some things to read for inspiration. Maybe I can find a way to write in complete thoughts that go together and make sense. Maybe.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
How do you really feel?
I don't know if I am still (yes, one month later) mentally exhausted from my month of writing or if it is all the other stuff going on, but I have really been neglecting my blog. I suppose that is okay. Maybe I need this time to regroup and think, but it is a little frustrating. Last night I had time to write and I really felt like writing, but nothing started off right. This is all I have. Maybe next month I'll get back into more regular posting. I just want my brian to cooperate.
I don't know how this happened.
Not sure how I'm staring
at this blank page and
have nothing to write.
The words and the
thoughts and the
musings all
caught up somewhere,
uncooperating.
Damn you, Writer's Block.
I don't know how this happened.
Not sure how I'm staring
at this blank page and
have nothing to write.
The words and the
thoughts and the
musings all
caught up somewhere,
uncooperating.
Damn you, Writer's Block.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Book Worm
I was the kind of girl who felt true physical pain when asked to put down a book at the dinner table. I felt ravenous toward toward each book, like a vampire desperate to clamp my fangs into the foreign body until it was drained in its entirety, lifeless on the floor.
I was, in my tastes, completely indiscriminate... It was on the shelf and I could follow at least 35 percent of the action? I gave it a try. - Excerpted from Shelf Discovery by Lizzie Skurnick
I read this in Reader's Digest a few weeks ago and it was like Ms. Skurnick was writing about my childhood. I started doing odd jobs for my grandparents when I was 7 or 8 to earn money to save up and spend on books. When I didn't have a new book, I would scour the shelves at our house or my grandparents'house for anything that would hold my interest long enough to get through it. My grandmother had the boxe set of the Little House on the Prairie series, and I read through the all of it three times by the time I was twelve. I had to have something to read. Always.
I have maybe four memories of my childhood from before I could read. My mother, an elementary teacher, taught me to read when I was four. By the time I was seven, I was reading anything I could get my hands on. Despite that they were unbelievably strict and censoring of everything else in my life from music to clothes to friends, my parents paid little attention to what I read. I guess that to them, I reading and learning and that was good. I read the Reader's Digest cover-to-cover every month, some romance novels I found at my grandparents with content much too mature for my age, and anything about Holocaust survivors I could get my hands on.
Reading opened worlds and ideas to me that were not available anywhere else in my life. Reading also gave me something to do that was only mine, that no one really paid attention to, and that allowed me to escape from any number if situations I wanted to avoid. I distinctly remember reading when I was supposed to be cleaning my room, doing schoolwork, or many various other chores. I would sit or stand, poised as though I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, while reading the book in which I was currently engrossed. I had about 85% of my attention on the book, and about 15% keeping guard so that if my mother came by my room I could quickly stash the book and look as though I was toeing the line.
Reading also came in very handy for keeping up with adult conversations that were none of my business. Since many of my mother's friends had kids my sisters' age, much younger than me, I was usually able to get away with hanging out with the adults... Albeit in the corner with my nose buried in a book. I heard all kinds of gossip, as well as concerns about marriages, child-rearing, and life in general. Since I was a very fast reader, I could quickly read to the end of a page and then pause to listen to what was being said before continuing to the next page. The whole 'little pitchers have big ears' saying completely applied to me. I just happened to be a little big-eared pitcher with her nose in a book who appeared to not be paying attention.
I still love to read, but I have so much less time for it now. I have a stack of books by my bed, waiting for me to read them, but after I take care of the boys, tidy up, and then try to write, I am so exhausted I just fall into bed, asleep as my head hits the pillow. But I miss my old friend. When this month is over I intend to take some time to invest in whittling down my book pile, passing time in some other worlds that are only available to me in books.
Monday, August 17, 2009
It's Come to This
I have nothing. Nothing. No idea what to write about. I guess I'll just ramble a little bit about my day, which is not ideal, but that is how these things go. This is what happens when I insist on writing even when I have nothing to write about.
I'm off work this week because my company has so generously allowed us to keep our jobs in exchange for everyone taking one week off unpaid. While it is very nice to have extra time off work, I'm really not looking forward to that paycheck that is about one-third of what I am normally paid (since they take the same amount of deductions for taxes, insurance, and 401k, but they are taking it out of one week's pay.)
Luke had told me last night that he was going to sleep in late and then when he got up he would get some clothes and come in and snuggle with me in my bed for a while. This morning he got up very early and made a lot of noise getting his clothes, woke up his brother, and made us all get up extra early. Yay.
We have a list of things to do during my week off, which include baking a cake and topping it with sprinkles, playing putt-putt, going adventuring, and playing in the pool. Naturally, the first thing they wanted to do 
was the cake. It took all morning to do the cake since everything takes longer with a 2- and 4-year old helping. They helped make the batter and the icing and they decorated it. I guess I just wanted them to have as much sugar as possible since I would have them most of the day by myself.
was the cake. It took all morning to do the cake since everything takes longer with a 2- and 4-year old helping. They helped make the batter and the icing and they decorated it. I guess I just wanted them to have as much sugar as possible since I would have them most of the day by myself.I did get away for a little while, to get my hair cut and colored. I love going to the salon. It's so relaxing and I always feel like I'm splurging and indulging, even if I'm just getting my hair trimmed. Plus, I'm friends with my stylist so it's like a pampering session and friend gab session all in one. I went darker with my hair and I really like it. I felt like the lighter highlights (getting even lighter in the summer sun) were getting just a bit too perky and sunny, so they didn't really suit me.
Owen was especially difficult tonight, alternating between super-cute and super-terrible-two boy. He fought me on just about everything. He was disciplined several times. After I carried him to his room because he refused to walk by himself and I was explaining to him that it was bedtime whether or not he wanted it to be, he said "Don't talk to me, Mom. Talk to yourself." Ah... kids.
So, that's it. Now I've done a 'highlights of my day' post because I currently have nothing thought-provoking or poetic or literary. I should have considered that my furlough was this month before deciding to write every day in August, because I have very little time for being on the computer when Ryan and I are both off together and we have outings or projects planned. Oh well. It is what it is. And right now it's craziness and chaos and a daily summary.
Note: I chose to edit this post because someone has a saved blog seach out there and goes around commenting on any blogs that match with that search. It is nice that they are trying to inform people, but it totally creeps me out that they continue to check this post at least once a day.
Empty Ink Wells
I have a lot of things I want to write about, but I'm just having a lot of difficulty finding or creating the inspiration to form those things into anything readable. I did write this the other day and I'm just going to post it for today's post. It probably needs reworked in either version, but I need to post something today.
Trusted friend.
Valiant foe.
Frustration.
Release.
Wringing words
from nothing
when free-flowing verse
halts.
Smashing empty
ink wells
until they overflow.
(I had originally written it this way (below), but when I posted it I liked it better as written above. The above is the way I would normally write, but the version below was me trying to put myself in it. Which works better?)
My trusted friend.
My valiant foe.
My frustration.
My release.
Wringing words
from nothing
when free-flowing verse
halts.
I'm smashing empty
ink wells
until they overflow.
Trusted friend.
Valiant foe.
Frustration.
Release.
Wringing words
from nothing
when free-flowing verse
halts.
Smashing empty
ink wells
until they overflow.
(I had originally written it this way (below), but when I posted it I liked it better as written above. The above is the way I would normally write, but the version below was me trying to put myself in it. Which works better?)
My trusted friend.
My valiant foe.
My frustration.
My release.
Wringing words
from nothing
when free-flowing verse
halts.
I'm smashing empty
ink wells
until they overflow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)