I seriously think that I am losing control of myself. There are moments, like this morning, when it is very difficult to imagine moving or really just being awake in genral- tiredness takes over. Then there are moments, like right now- when I have succeeded in accomplishing many tasks and feel like I can do it all. Then there are moments, like on my way to the grocery store when I had Bruno in the front seat (trust me- this is a little ridiculous) and Hunter in the back and I managed to get Bruno to the groomers without anyone getting hurt... all this was a great feat- but boy was I super grumpy/cranky carrying it out. NO real reason. Then the property director asks me if I can run an estimate on energy efficient lighting for the first floor and I say- sure! Because I have nothing else on my plate....
At this very current second I do not feel overwhelmed by everything. In about 25 seconds I will most likely be so overwhelmed as to be paralyzed by it. What the heck is wrong with me? I'm either pregnant or PMSing- and quite frankly, I'm a little annoyed by both. I had a random thought on the way to the grocery store- it was kind of along the lines of Jason's blog "Pooping Out my Brain" when he talks about a series of stream-of-conscious thought that run through his head. I thought about hormones and PMS and all those things that add up to make a woman feel crazy. Then I thought- wow- back in the "old days" women didn't have birth control pills or whatever to help simmer some of this down- being a woman really is sometimes medically the equivalent of being crazy. How is this fair? It's not. So maybe the curse on Eve was not painful childbirth- but rather all the freaky hormones that go into the process of getting or not getting pregnant. Childbirth is the easy part- it's the before and after that sucks.
As you may be able to tell from my post- I am all over the place these days. Heard a girl on the radio station that sounded eerily like a girl from our church. She was being exploited- sort of a special needs person with social issues- and here they are using her awkwardness to entertain the thousands. I couldn't listen to it anymore. My skin is getting thinner by the minute and I can't even imagine what happens to me when someone makes fun of Hunter for the first time or I hear bad things through the grapevine about Jason. SO- in case you were thinking about it- you should probably keep your insensitive remarks about me and my family to yourself until I get a handle on this. ; )
Processing Grandmother's move- it isn't going all that well. All that I've come up with is that my life is going to look different and she is going to be gone and I'm going to need a project when she leaves. I talked about this with Jason- and while he is very helpful and wonderful as a husband- he tends to be solutions oriented. So when I decided I should use this new time to work on a writing project- maybe centered around my findings from Grandmother's collection of letters and ptotos- I could tell Jason felt like this was the answer to my issues. Maybe not the answer- but good enough. But it's not. Not good enough.
I have always wanted to write, and always wanted to actually have something worth writing- so this feels good to me... but there is still a missing piece. There is still this sense of unfulfilled calling. I don't know what it is or where it is. Saying that I'm going to write a book about Grandmother doesn't seem to cut it for me. Reorganizing my house- not enough. Raising Hunter- not the only call I have. Having another baby (if and when that happens)- still not enough.
Guess I'll steal a line from U2- I still haven't found what I'm looking for... and I'll add a line- I still don't know what the hell I'm looking for.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Yea...
I have my great great grandmother's skirt in my truck right now. That's awesome.
that's my post.
that's my post.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Painting and sticks
Apparently when I do a "work day" with Grandmother I forget to post on my blog. Oh well. I had a lovely time painting tonight with a friend of mine- the color was fabulous and the company super fun.
Unfortunately, I came home and kind of got grumpy- one mis-laid comment, a sideways glance at my diplomas hanging awkwardly on the wall and an email from my uncle about whether or not to bring his porsche to my Grandmother's move.... and now I'm just grumpy. I'm getting a little tired and feeling like I'm rushing toward this Grandmother move to Florida so fast that I'm about to be in a tailspin of emotion and not know what hit me. I thought I was processing the whole Grandmother move- but glancing at the diplomas gave me a weird feeling that sort of surprised me: Bitterness. I looked at my degrees and felt them almost laughing at me- like- what are you doing with all that junk? All that junk? In your trunk? no- not that - they were asking me what I was doing with my education my superior masters knowledge, my fabulous ability to do a whole lot of nothing. I am so "accomplished" by cleaning out Grandmother's stuff, helping organize all sorts of things- but it dawned on me- nobody really gives a shit. I mean- to an extent they do- but ultimately- it's just not that big a deal. Soon Grandmother will move. My Mom will take over in my stead, and I will be done, retired, finished with that "job." I will start nannying the cutest little baby (Lily!) and yet I will feel like a failure- again. Because this is what I do to myself.
When Grandmother leaves, I will no longer be doing anything that only I can do. I poured my heart into helping my Grandmother out- and I still missed some cues, but that's ok. What I'm having a hard time with is the fact that there doesn't seem to be anything else only I can do. Sure I can mother my child- but I can't be so consumed with Hunter that he's the only investment I have. It'll smother him and it won't work for me.
Maybe part of the conversation I had with my friend Kelly tonight opened the window in my brain to this calling issue I have- I like to shut it down, but I guess we left it cracked open. So when I came home and Jason mentioned something about work and I didn't react well- it all kind of spiraled from there. And now it's 1145 and I am tired and need to go to bed.
grr. grr. grr.
Unfortunately, I came home and kind of got grumpy- one mis-laid comment, a sideways glance at my diplomas hanging awkwardly on the wall and an email from my uncle about whether or not to bring his porsche to my Grandmother's move.... and now I'm just grumpy. I'm getting a little tired and feeling like I'm rushing toward this Grandmother move to Florida so fast that I'm about to be in a tailspin of emotion and not know what hit me. I thought I was processing the whole Grandmother move- but glancing at the diplomas gave me a weird feeling that sort of surprised me: Bitterness. I looked at my degrees and felt them almost laughing at me- like- what are you doing with all that junk? All that junk? In your trunk? no- not that - they were asking me what I was doing with my education my superior masters knowledge, my fabulous ability to do a whole lot of nothing. I am so "accomplished" by cleaning out Grandmother's stuff, helping organize all sorts of things- but it dawned on me- nobody really gives a shit. I mean- to an extent they do- but ultimately- it's just not that big a deal. Soon Grandmother will move. My Mom will take over in my stead, and I will be done, retired, finished with that "job." I will start nannying the cutest little baby (Lily!) and yet I will feel like a failure- again. Because this is what I do to myself.
When Grandmother leaves, I will no longer be doing anything that only I can do. I poured my heart into helping my Grandmother out- and I still missed some cues, but that's ok. What I'm having a hard time with is the fact that there doesn't seem to be anything else only I can do. Sure I can mother my child- but I can't be so consumed with Hunter that he's the only investment I have. It'll smother him and it won't work for me.
Maybe part of the conversation I had with my friend Kelly tonight opened the window in my brain to this calling issue I have- I like to shut it down, but I guess we left it cracked open. So when I came home and Jason mentioned something about work and I didn't react well- it all kind of spiraled from there. And now it's 1145 and I am tired and need to go to bed.
grr. grr. grr.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Movies with Mama
I really thought I posted yeterday- oops. Right now Hunter is napping, Jason is doing a funeral and I'm blogging. I may have the best deal.
Today I did a very "Stay at home mom" thing and saw all the other SAHM's and realized that it's kind of a lonely and weird group. That's not really what I want to talk about- but it just sort of presented itself to me. There's this event that is sort of maybe or maybe not going to continue since the movie theatre changed companies- but they do Mothers at the Movies once a month - where they show a current movie and make sure the lights aren't totally out and the sound isn't totally blaring. And the kids just run around. It's not advertised - but people just find out about it. Today the movie was Killers- which was a little violent for my almost 2 year old- but I was assuming there would be other 2 year olds to distract him. Instead it was mostly infants with a couple of cute tiny 1 yr old girls who don't run. SO- it was cool- but a little weird. Not heavily attended which made it feel like a best-kept secret, but also really just made it more like me taking Hunter to go see a movie and not having to worry when he said "Truck! Cars! Copter! Uh-oh!" and a variety of other appropriate comments for a romantic-comedy shoot-em-up movie. The movie itself was cute- worth renting maybe, not hugely in depth or anything but entertaining. Hunter was cuter with his excitement during the car chases and just general sweet behavior...
But the stay at home mom thing. Basically it was a bunch of moms and infants each sitting with perhaps one other person- or alone with their child, and attempting to view a movie if their child let them. This I get- babies rule- there isn't really any way around it- but it just kind of reminded me of that, how we as mothers learn to just let whatever it is that we're doing (eating, whatever) go and do what the baby needs. This often results in walking away and going someplace quiet or at least abandoned. On the one hand- it's nice to get some quiet places- and in that stage of motherhood- necessary for both the mom and baby. On the other hand, we get really used to giving up everything, tending to baby and being by ourselves in the process. That sucks after a while- but some moms get used to it... maybe this is the path that leads to the mom that lives vicariously through her child and cannot really do or talk about anything else.
Then there's the flip of that coin- the moms who cannot be bothered or focus so hard on being still "woman" that they give up time or ignore needs of the child.
I want a happy medium where I can be myself, enjoy myself- but also enjoy my child and know that without him my life really would look completely different - and that's a good thing!
I'm kind of rambling. Got a lot of junk in my head that's not clear enough to write yet, and so I find myself writing about random stuff like the happy medium between career mom and career working woman...
I'm not sure what is really trying to percolate in my head (I love the word percolate)... I'm sure it's still the words in letters from generations before me, my Grandmother grinning as a 7 year old and my keen awareness of our humanity as I watch how people treat each other. I've become sensitive in my old age. Or something. Jason and I watched a little Sarah Silverman the other day and her shtick is that she's this precious looking sweet face who spouts things that are just SO wrong. I think she is funny, but something is keeping me from laughing now- like- I can't handle some of it anymore because I'm knee deep in human stories.
There is one more thing - I still haven't gotten the appraiser's report... and it's starting to feel like the next Harry Potter movie... I really don't know how much longer I can wait.
Today I did a very "Stay at home mom" thing and saw all the other SAHM's and realized that it's kind of a lonely and weird group. That's not really what I want to talk about- but it just sort of presented itself to me. There's this event that is sort of maybe or maybe not going to continue since the movie theatre changed companies- but they do Mothers at the Movies once a month - where they show a current movie and make sure the lights aren't totally out and the sound isn't totally blaring. And the kids just run around. It's not advertised - but people just find out about it. Today the movie was Killers- which was a little violent for my almost 2 year old- but I was assuming there would be other 2 year olds to distract him. Instead it was mostly infants with a couple of cute tiny 1 yr old girls who don't run. SO- it was cool- but a little weird. Not heavily attended which made it feel like a best-kept secret, but also really just made it more like me taking Hunter to go see a movie and not having to worry when he said "Truck! Cars! Copter! Uh-oh!" and a variety of other appropriate comments for a romantic-comedy shoot-em-up movie. The movie itself was cute- worth renting maybe, not hugely in depth or anything but entertaining. Hunter was cuter with his excitement during the car chases and just general sweet behavior...
But the stay at home mom thing. Basically it was a bunch of moms and infants each sitting with perhaps one other person- or alone with their child, and attempting to view a movie if their child let them. This I get- babies rule- there isn't really any way around it- but it just kind of reminded me of that, how we as mothers learn to just let whatever it is that we're doing (eating, whatever) go and do what the baby needs. This often results in walking away and going someplace quiet or at least abandoned. On the one hand- it's nice to get some quiet places- and in that stage of motherhood- necessary for both the mom and baby. On the other hand, we get really used to giving up everything, tending to baby and being by ourselves in the process. That sucks after a while- but some moms get used to it... maybe this is the path that leads to the mom that lives vicariously through her child and cannot really do or talk about anything else.
Then there's the flip of that coin- the moms who cannot be bothered or focus so hard on being still "woman" that they give up time or ignore needs of the child.
I want a happy medium where I can be myself, enjoy myself- but also enjoy my child and know that without him my life really would look completely different - and that's a good thing!
I'm kind of rambling. Got a lot of junk in my head that's not clear enough to write yet, and so I find myself writing about random stuff like the happy medium between career mom and career working woman...
I'm not sure what is really trying to percolate in my head (I love the word percolate)... I'm sure it's still the words in letters from generations before me, my Grandmother grinning as a 7 year old and my keen awareness of our humanity as I watch how people treat each other. I've become sensitive in my old age. Or something. Jason and I watched a little Sarah Silverman the other day and her shtick is that she's this precious looking sweet face who spouts things that are just SO wrong. I think she is funny, but something is keeping me from laughing now- like- I can't handle some of it anymore because I'm knee deep in human stories.
There is one more thing - I still haven't gotten the appraiser's report... and it's starting to feel like the next Harry Potter movie... I really don't know how much longer I can wait.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Some kind of Crazy
Have you ever had that distinct experience of slowly discovering that someone is insane? I won't spare too any details for fear that Big Brother is reading this...
Let's just say I met this new person and my thought process went a little like this:
"oh this person is so friendly, how easy it is to talk with them."
... 2 minutes later...
"A little eccentric, but I love me some eccentric people- bring it on!"
....2 minutes later...
"wow, I feel like I know a little too much right now and I'm getting a little uncomfortable, but that's just the introvert in me.."
...2 minutes later....
"hmmm, this person hasn't taken much time to breathe between sentences."
... 2 minutes later...
"I don't think it's me, I think it might be him/her!"
...2 minutes later...
"Oh my gosh this person is freaking insane!"
...2 minutes later....
"Somebody help me! Rescue me! I need out of this conversation!"
That was the gist of it. Internally anyway. Has anyone had this experience? It was sort of innocense to dawning of the epiphany of this person's insanity- all within about 15 minutes. I like crazy people, but this kind of crazy took a lot of energy out of me.
Let's just say I met this new person and my thought process went a little like this:
"oh this person is so friendly, how easy it is to talk with them."
... 2 minutes later...
"A little eccentric, but I love me some eccentric people- bring it on!"
....2 minutes later...
"wow, I feel like I know a little too much right now and I'm getting a little uncomfortable, but that's just the introvert in me.."
...2 minutes later....
"hmmm, this person hasn't taken much time to breathe between sentences."
... 2 minutes later...
"I don't think it's me, I think it might be him/her!"
...2 minutes later...
"Oh my gosh this person is freaking insane!"
...2 minutes later....
"Somebody help me! Rescue me! I need out of this conversation!"
That was the gist of it. Internally anyway. Has anyone had this experience? It was sort of innocense to dawning of the epiphany of this person's insanity- all within about 15 minutes. I like crazy people, but this kind of crazy took a lot of energy out of me.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Emotional Overload
I think that I have either witnessed too much or something- but I feel like I am full on human emotion. Like I can't hold any more. This isn't a despair feeling or anything like that- it is literally like I just have filled my little teapot of humanity to the brim today, and I might be spilling a little all over the place.
This doesn't make sense, I know. I'm going to try a different approach and give you some images and thoughts that have been running through my mind these last few weeks. I have been to two funerals, my husband has preached 3 and has another on the way. It was father's day (which I did very little to merit being a good wife or mother or daughter). It was my brother and sister-in-law's (Kelly and JR) wedding anniversary- totally missed that. My niece's birthday- went to the party but didn't call on her birthday. We're her God-parents too and we still haven't done the cool gift idea we thought of (her baptism was a year ago). My best friend from seminary is moving today- and I believe her miracle daughter is turning two today (haven't been able to get in touch with her). My little sister broke up with her boyfriend and now she's a little under the weather but maybe she's better- who knows because I haven't actually talked to her in a week or two. My older sister probably still hates me for calling her out on the blog for pestering me about her daughter's picture. My in-laws were here this past weekend because Jason and I can't find a weekend long enough to make the trip to them. My Grandmother is moving in a few weeks and we're cleaning out her stuff and she keeps saying how she'll miss me and how she wishes I could go with her. I keep remembering little things about Memaush and wishing she was one more person on my cell phone that I could call on the trafficky way home from Grandmother's- not to fill the time, but to fill the void she has left in my heart. I have had a babysitter for Hunter for when I help clean-out with Grandmother and he seems happy but I feel weirdly guilty. Hunter prefers "Dada" to "Mama" so obviously that it's beginning to feel a little rejecting. Jason has not been getting up in the morning to exercise and neither have I and I feel responsible for both of us- like if I could get my act together he would be together and we would be healthy.
I've spent Friday and today almost entirely looking through photo albums with Grandmother. This has endeared me to generations of family members I never had the privelege to meet- but now that I've heard their stories, read their letters and come to love them- I feel like I miss them. I'm mourning the relationship I never had with them. I'm filled to the brim with their presence in my blood. I read a telegram today from 1962 that read simply: Papa died this morning. It brought tears to my eyes because I had been reading sweet and loving letters from Papa August- my Grandfather's father- and I had been looking over pictures of him studying at his desk and smoking his pipe. I read the letters of his daughter and wife about their grief and shock over his death.
It's like I need time to grieve for all the losses in my life- but none of them are real. They are all intangible guilt for not doing what I should have or wanted to, fear for the future that lay uncertainly ahead, and sadness for the missed opportunity to commune with some of the most wonderful people I have ever read about. I have been sitting with these pictures for so long that they don't look old to me or outdated. I recognize my Grandmother's mother as a child in old photos because somehow I know her now.
My heart is full and so everything makes or breaks it. I need to release it somehow but other than writing it down- I don't know what to do with this feeling of heavy-ness.
I feel silly and ridiculous too.
SO- the span of human emotion. Guilt, fear, joy, sadness, love, community... it's all sitting on top of my lungs.
It's hard to breathe too deeply without some of it slipping out.
This doesn't make sense, I know. I'm going to try a different approach and give you some images and thoughts that have been running through my mind these last few weeks. I have been to two funerals, my husband has preached 3 and has another on the way. It was father's day (which I did very little to merit being a good wife or mother or daughter). It was my brother and sister-in-law's (Kelly and JR) wedding anniversary- totally missed that. My niece's birthday- went to the party but didn't call on her birthday. We're her God-parents too and we still haven't done the cool gift idea we thought of (her baptism was a year ago). My best friend from seminary is moving today- and I believe her miracle daughter is turning two today (haven't been able to get in touch with her). My little sister broke up with her boyfriend and now she's a little under the weather but maybe she's better- who knows because I haven't actually talked to her in a week or two. My older sister probably still hates me for calling her out on the blog for pestering me about her daughter's picture. My in-laws were here this past weekend because Jason and I can't find a weekend long enough to make the trip to them. My Grandmother is moving in a few weeks and we're cleaning out her stuff and she keeps saying how she'll miss me and how she wishes I could go with her. I keep remembering little things about Memaush and wishing she was one more person on my cell phone that I could call on the trafficky way home from Grandmother's- not to fill the time, but to fill the void she has left in my heart. I have had a babysitter for Hunter for when I help clean-out with Grandmother and he seems happy but I feel weirdly guilty. Hunter prefers "Dada" to "Mama" so obviously that it's beginning to feel a little rejecting. Jason has not been getting up in the morning to exercise and neither have I and I feel responsible for both of us- like if I could get my act together he would be together and we would be healthy.
I've spent Friday and today almost entirely looking through photo albums with Grandmother. This has endeared me to generations of family members I never had the privelege to meet- but now that I've heard their stories, read their letters and come to love them- I feel like I miss them. I'm mourning the relationship I never had with them. I'm filled to the brim with their presence in my blood. I read a telegram today from 1962 that read simply: Papa died this morning. It brought tears to my eyes because I had been reading sweet and loving letters from Papa August- my Grandfather's father- and I had been looking over pictures of him studying at his desk and smoking his pipe. I read the letters of his daughter and wife about their grief and shock over his death.
It's like I need time to grieve for all the losses in my life- but none of them are real. They are all intangible guilt for not doing what I should have or wanted to, fear for the future that lay uncertainly ahead, and sadness for the missed opportunity to commune with some of the most wonderful people I have ever read about. I have been sitting with these pictures for so long that they don't look old to me or outdated. I recognize my Grandmother's mother as a child in old photos because somehow I know her now.
My heart is full and so everything makes or breaks it. I need to release it somehow but other than writing it down- I don't know what to do with this feeling of heavy-ness.
I feel silly and ridiculous too.
SO- the span of human emotion. Guilt, fear, joy, sadness, love, community... it's all sitting on top of my lungs.
It's hard to breathe too deeply without some of it slipping out.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Intro-verted
I just got proof today that I am indeed an introvert. Jason's folks were here this weekend and it was nice becaue we hadn't seen them in a while or gotten to give them good Hunter time- so it was nice to hang. Jason preached all 4 services today- so yesterday I thought we should do something fun to sort of celebrate Father's Day. We went to the mall and let Hunter play in this kid's area and ate ice cream. That is maybe the normal perspective of what we did. My perspective: we went to kiddie hell where there were hundreds of children screaming and running and jumping and skipping across, barely missing each other as they ran full speed... and then we escaped to the opposite end of the food court to eat ice cream in still deafening noise.
It was like my crank-o-meter got turned way up and my patience well ran dry and my noise tolerance credit card was maxed out. Un-be-lievable. I h a t e the mall. Always did. Always will. The mall plus screaming children- not fun. The mall plus a gazillion people and screaming childre: hell. SO I endured hell for my husband. He and his parents are not introverts or quite so sensitive to excessive sensory input. They had a blast- and when they were chatting after our ice cream break about what to do next- IN the mall- I did some crazy math that made it imperative for us to go home to cook dinner in the next 30 minutes.
The mall is like acid on my brain. I hate it that much. I really can't go too much into it except to say it is like the opposite of all the things I hope for. It is a sorority and fraternity of people trying to be cool by means of consumerism and cunning use of walking cooly in crowds and talking loudly. It's he worse parts of us as humans coming out. Other than that the mall can be fun.
I took a nap today and am still exhausted- I just can't handle that many people.
Ok- one more thing: why don't preachers preach on the fiery furnace with shadrach meshack and abednego ever? I read that stoyry with my 5th graders this morning- and it is a kick-ass story. Just fyi.
:)
It was like my crank-o-meter got turned way up and my patience well ran dry and my noise tolerance credit card was maxed out. Un-be-lievable. I h a t e the mall. Always did. Always will. The mall plus screaming children- not fun. The mall plus a gazillion people and screaming childre: hell. SO I endured hell for my husband. He and his parents are not introverts or quite so sensitive to excessive sensory input. They had a blast- and when they were chatting after our ice cream break about what to do next- IN the mall- I did some crazy math that made it imperative for us to go home to cook dinner in the next 30 minutes.
The mall is like acid on my brain. I hate it that much. I really can't go too much into it except to say it is like the opposite of all the things I hope for. It is a sorority and fraternity of people trying to be cool by means of consumerism and cunning use of walking cooly in crowds and talking loudly. It's he worse parts of us as humans coming out. Other than that the mall can be fun.
I took a nap today and am still exhausted- I just can't handle that many people.
Ok- one more thing: why don't preachers preach on the fiery furnace with shadrach meshack and abednego ever? I read that stoyry with my 5th graders this morning- and it is a kick-ass story. Just fyi.
:)
Saturday, June 19, 2010
The case of the missing Pregnancy Test
So- this is random- but I once again am finding myself late at night, tired and needing to go to bed. Busy but fun day.
So I'm going to write briefly on the missing pee stick. A couple of months ago I was in the good ol' CVS getting my Grandmother her Aricept and I walked down the pregnancy aisle to get to the pharmacy in the back. There were the tests- and I thought- well it'll be that time soon, I should buy a test now so I don't have to run out and buy it when I think I'm pregnant- rather- it would be nice just to have it on hand. So I purchased it.
It went in my bathroom on the little shelf where it sat and reminded me to have sex.
The other day I noticed it was no longer there. I was looking for my vitamins, which Jason moved to the shelf where the pregnancy test was- and I thought- that's weird- the test is gone.
I have looked everywhere for it- not because it is impossible to replace, but because I really can't figure this mystery out. In my opinion- there are only 3 options: 1) I'm crazy and moved it to some undisclosed location and forgot about it; 2) One of the teenager babysitters felt the need to borrow it; or 3) Hunter threw the whole box in the trash without me noticing. None of these options are comforting or make sense. All of the teen babysitters are smart and capable of purchasing their own tests if they so needed, Hunter is usually not that clever with his relocation of items and I surely can't be so far gone that I imagined something in one location for weeks when it is somewhere else.
I'll let you know if I ever find it. I guess I'll have to buy another one- which annoys me- because I am one of few women who trust the pregancy test the first time around- if it is positive. Both my sister and sister in law must have taken a dozen tests between them when they got a positive reading- just to make sure it was right. I learned this was actually pretty normal- a lot of friends and random people have mentioned that they did the same. With Hunter I took one test- looked at it and told Jason I was pregnant and made an appointment with an OB/Gyn. I am also for some cocky reason certain I will get pregnant right away- not because I think I am oh so fertile- but more because I am positive that I ca't survive another "normal" period. We'll see.
ok- so all you sleuths- solve this mystery- was it me, the kid, the teenager, or the housecleaners (one who is so precious and I couldn't picture stealing a penny, and the other who is done having babies- and also nice)?
So I'm going to write briefly on the missing pee stick. A couple of months ago I was in the good ol' CVS getting my Grandmother her Aricept and I walked down the pregnancy aisle to get to the pharmacy in the back. There were the tests- and I thought- well it'll be that time soon, I should buy a test now so I don't have to run out and buy it when I think I'm pregnant- rather- it would be nice just to have it on hand. So I purchased it.
It went in my bathroom on the little shelf where it sat and reminded me to have sex.
The other day I noticed it was no longer there. I was looking for my vitamins, which Jason moved to the shelf where the pregnancy test was- and I thought- that's weird- the test is gone.
I have looked everywhere for it- not because it is impossible to replace, but because I really can't figure this mystery out. In my opinion- there are only 3 options: 1) I'm crazy and moved it to some undisclosed location and forgot about it; 2) One of the teenager babysitters felt the need to borrow it; or 3) Hunter threw the whole box in the trash without me noticing. None of these options are comforting or make sense. All of the teen babysitters are smart and capable of purchasing their own tests if they so needed, Hunter is usually not that clever with his relocation of items and I surely can't be so far gone that I imagined something in one location for weeks when it is somewhere else.
I'll let you know if I ever find it. I guess I'll have to buy another one- which annoys me- because I am one of few women who trust the pregancy test the first time around- if it is positive. Both my sister and sister in law must have taken a dozen tests between them when they got a positive reading- just to make sure it was right. I learned this was actually pretty normal- a lot of friends and random people have mentioned that they did the same. With Hunter I took one test- looked at it and told Jason I was pregnant and made an appointment with an OB/Gyn. I am also for some cocky reason certain I will get pregnant right away- not because I think I am oh so fertile- but more because I am positive that I ca't survive another "normal" period. We'll see.
ok- so all you sleuths- solve this mystery- was it me, the kid, the teenager, or the housecleaners (one who is so precious and I couldn't picture stealing a penny, and the other who is done having babies- and also nice)?
Friday, June 18, 2010
It's Friday Night
And the moon is bright, gonna have some fun, show you how it's done TGIF! Remember those days? Yeaaa....
It's 11pm and I'm exhausted. I'm old and cranky. My husband is working out on the bike tonight and I'm proud of him but I can't work out late or early- which means I'm pretty much screwed.... got to work on that.
I had a fabulous time at Grandmother's today- we were going through one of her more exciting closets. Among the finds: transcripts from the Nurenburg Trials, a letter from 1885, and of course a birth certifcate or two in German.
I wish I had more energy to expound, but I don't.
You'll notice the new picture I have of my niece Lucy- it is there because I stole it from my sister's blog because she kept pestering me about having a picture- of which are all in camera, of which I dont know how to put in my computer because my computer has a heart attack when anything new happens to it.... so- because Kelly kept picking at me like picking at a scab- even through Jessa she picked at me- SO- here's Lucy- she is beautiful and precious and the picture is not mine or connected to Hunter because he pushes her over and I can't get the computer to talk to the camera. But in the meantime- hopefully Kelly is satisfied so that my blog no longer has a comment every other entry that ends with "you need a picture of Lucy."
The power of persistence. If at first you don't succeed, then try twenty million times again.
It's 11pm and I'm exhausted. I'm old and cranky. My husband is working out on the bike tonight and I'm proud of him but I can't work out late or early- which means I'm pretty much screwed.... got to work on that.
I had a fabulous time at Grandmother's today- we were going through one of her more exciting closets. Among the finds: transcripts from the Nurenburg Trials, a letter from 1885, and of course a birth certifcate or two in German.
I wish I had more energy to expound, but I don't.
You'll notice the new picture I have of my niece Lucy- it is there because I stole it from my sister's blog because she kept pestering me about having a picture- of which are all in camera, of which I dont know how to put in my computer because my computer has a heart attack when anything new happens to it.... so- because Kelly kept picking at me like picking at a scab- even through Jessa she picked at me- SO- here's Lucy- she is beautiful and precious and the picture is not mine or connected to Hunter because he pushes her over and I can't get the computer to talk to the camera. But in the meantime- hopefully Kelly is satisfied so that my blog no longer has a comment every other entry that ends with "you need a picture of Lucy."
The power of persistence. If at first you don't succeed, then try twenty million times again.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
hmm
Not feeling up for deep tonight. It's ok- some days you got it- and some days you don't. Here's a fun fact from today- I have a large manilla like envelope full of letters from my Opa (Grandfather) to my Grandmother (the one I care for) and they are kick-ass. Like- scratch all the romance and war movies you've seen and come over and read these letters dating from 1943-1946. I am going to have to quote a few in the coming weeks as I sort through them.... it's almost too sacred to share and too sacred not to share- you know what I mean?
Which leads me to the question- what happened to those guys? I thought the movies and such were all full of shit- but guess what- my Opa knocks the socks of those pansies!
Here is my theory (this is as deep as I'm going tonight)... men in "those days" had a few things going for them. I may be wrong- but it seems that the sense of "proper" things actually made the vulnerability and intimacy they had with their lovers an especially special and unique thing. I'm all about intimacy and vulnerability all around- but I wonder if maybe the fact that some things were not kosher to talk about meant that it was especially important and nice that you had that one special someone that you could talk unkosher with. It's something to ponder. Then the other part of my theory that I weigh most heavily on is this: writing. Men had to write. There isn't the luxury of phones, texts, skype, or any of those things- but simply letters. Even my generation wrote emails in love before the cell phone became so prevalant that we didnt need them. Now it's instant gratification of communication- and maybe we kinda suck at the instantaneous stuff. Think about it- letters written on a typewriter or even by hand take time, allow for drafts, require at least a pause of thought. Speaking doesn't. Kissing even more so doesn't. So here are these men in boot camp and at war with nothing to satisfy their love-torn hearts than a pen and paper. That's when the magic starts.
I have asked my husband to write me a love letter- and I think he has a little performance anxiety about it. Of course he does- he doesn't have a habit of letter-writing, doesn't have a habit of serenading, and now that I've specifically requested it- it puts him on the spot. So, I won't ask for it any more- at least not in the near-future... but man- Opa's letters are awesome! I don't want to trade the absence of my husband for a letter, I don't want to trade the society back to hushing the word pregnant- but I wish we could get our letter-writing back on. It's only a recent phenomenon that we're losing it.
Now that I have seen that my dear stubborn German Grandfather was a respectful, funny, passionate man for my Grandmother- I want to know- was he special- or was that the norm for men? I mean- who doesn't want to read a letter addressed to "Darling" and with words like "I could never love anyone like I love you." These are just trite words in letters chock full of L O V E.
Do your men write you L O V E letters?
Which leads me to the question- what happened to those guys? I thought the movies and such were all full of shit- but guess what- my Opa knocks the socks of those pansies!
Here is my theory (this is as deep as I'm going tonight)... men in "those days" had a few things going for them. I may be wrong- but it seems that the sense of "proper" things actually made the vulnerability and intimacy they had with their lovers an especially special and unique thing. I'm all about intimacy and vulnerability all around- but I wonder if maybe the fact that some things were not kosher to talk about meant that it was especially important and nice that you had that one special someone that you could talk unkosher with. It's something to ponder. Then the other part of my theory that I weigh most heavily on is this: writing. Men had to write. There isn't the luxury of phones, texts, skype, or any of those things- but simply letters. Even my generation wrote emails in love before the cell phone became so prevalant that we didnt need them. Now it's instant gratification of communication- and maybe we kinda suck at the instantaneous stuff. Think about it- letters written on a typewriter or even by hand take time, allow for drafts, require at least a pause of thought. Speaking doesn't. Kissing even more so doesn't. So here are these men in boot camp and at war with nothing to satisfy their love-torn hearts than a pen and paper. That's when the magic starts.
I have asked my husband to write me a love letter- and I think he has a little performance anxiety about it. Of course he does- he doesn't have a habit of letter-writing, doesn't have a habit of serenading, and now that I've specifically requested it- it puts him on the spot. So, I won't ask for it any more- at least not in the near-future... but man- Opa's letters are awesome! I don't want to trade the absence of my husband for a letter, I don't want to trade the society back to hushing the word pregnant- but I wish we could get our letter-writing back on. It's only a recent phenomenon that we're losing it.
Now that I have seen that my dear stubborn German Grandfather was a respectful, funny, passionate man for my Grandmother- I want to know- was he special- or was that the norm for men? I mean- who doesn't want to read a letter addressed to "Darling" and with words like "I could never love anyone like I love you." These are just trite words in letters chock full of L O V E.
Do your men write you L O V E letters?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Let's go lighter...
Maybe death was a little too heavy to start on. Right now Hunter is working on not taking a nap again- but I have faith he will indeed sleep. I'm going with the bet that he's going to poop in the next 10 minutes, then I can change him, calm him and hopefully convince him to really go to sleep. We're expecting scattered strong storms here today- I'm hoping for them- love me some good thunderstorms. I am disturbed by the recent upswing in flash-flooding. To be honest- I never understood how people drowned in floods because I thought that rain was slow. This year I am learning how so very uninformed I was.
But that's not what I want to talk about because, well it's not light enough after my death escapade. I can't really focus much now bc Hunter is crying and I need to pee- ok- hold tight, we're going to take care of business and then write light.
Hunter is asleep- I peed a long time ago and then I gmail-chatted with a good friend. So now I may need to just do a normal random post and look at what else I should do in the mysterious number of minutes I have left before the child wakes up.
Hmmm. I will randomly write about the domino effect of good tasks. If I do one thing and it goes well- I do more things and do them well- then it becomes like a waterfall of productivity and good feelings. The problem is that it is REALLY HARD to do the first thing- and imperative to succeed. Take yesterday- I got so aggravated with the general state of things that I told my exhausted husband that we needed to clean even if just for 30 minutes. 1 hour later and my kitchen is nearly reorganized courtesy of the domino effect. This doesn't always happen- but when it does it is a beautiful thing. And here's another funny fact- now that my kitchen is clean- I feel like my house is significantly cleaner. What took me 1 hour to accomplish made me feel like 5 hours of dreaded work were off my shoulders. Jason and I went on a date last night at the last minute because we found a sitter and I felt good about what we had accomplished! When I got home I felt satisfied rather than the- ugh- look what a mess feeling. I felt good knowing the babysitter wasn't sitting in a pile of papers and toys. And it took 1 hr.
Why do we get ourselves so worked up about stuff when it really isn't that big a deal? Why don't I just DO it? What is this evil procrastination and why is it so easy to follow when it always lets me down? So now- I'm going to go "do" it- sew something, file something - whatever I can do until Hunter wakes up- and I'm going to feel good about it, dammit.
But that's not what I want to talk about because, well it's not light enough after my death escapade. I can't really focus much now bc Hunter is crying and I need to pee- ok- hold tight, we're going to take care of business and then write light.
Hunter is asleep- I peed a long time ago and then I gmail-chatted with a good friend. So now I may need to just do a normal random post and look at what else I should do in the mysterious number of minutes I have left before the child wakes up.
Hmmm. I will randomly write about the domino effect of good tasks. If I do one thing and it goes well- I do more things and do them well- then it becomes like a waterfall of productivity and good feelings. The problem is that it is REALLY HARD to do the first thing- and imperative to succeed. Take yesterday- I got so aggravated with the general state of things that I told my exhausted husband that we needed to clean even if just for 30 minutes. 1 hour later and my kitchen is nearly reorganized courtesy of the domino effect. This doesn't always happen- but when it does it is a beautiful thing. And here's another funny fact- now that my kitchen is clean- I feel like my house is significantly cleaner. What took me 1 hour to accomplish made me feel like 5 hours of dreaded work were off my shoulders. Jason and I went on a date last night at the last minute because we found a sitter and I felt good about what we had accomplished! When I got home I felt satisfied rather than the- ugh- look what a mess feeling. I felt good knowing the babysitter wasn't sitting in a pile of papers and toys. And it took 1 hr.
Why do we get ourselves so worked up about stuff when it really isn't that big a deal? Why don't I just DO it? What is this evil procrastination and why is it so easy to follow when it always lets me down? So now- I'm going to go "do" it- sew something, file something - whatever I can do until Hunter wakes up- and I'm going to feel good about it, dammit.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Death
Why not tackle a big one, eh? Hunter just went down for his nap without a fuss- so I'm feeling brave. Of course I have a list of things that I should be doing, but it's raining, Hunter is sleeping and I have a cup of coffee that needs to be finished.
Death is on my mind for various reasons. The most obvious one being that I went to a funeral today. Death is so incredibly weird. It is ridiculously final and has no second chance. Death is rare and plentiful at the same time. Many people die but everyone only gets 1 shot at it. I don't think it would be fair to say I have come to terms with my own mortality- but I am coming to terms with the reality of death in general. People die - unfortunately without much control or influence from me on timing. My Grandfather (Opa) died in December of 2001 when the world was still reeling from 9/11. His graveside service was held in Arlington National Cemetary, in the shadows of the pentagon's damage. We literally stood on a hill overlooking the great dent of the pentagon while hearing the taps for Opa. Papaush- my other grandfather- died the week before bike week in Daytona Beach, FL. So when I drove to attend his funeral- I fought traffic and was flashed the bird everytime I dared to change lanes between biker groups. Memaush died the Friday before Thanksgiving, making Thanksgiving last year a strange and beautiful family reunion.
Death is not a person or a thing, not a tool or a calling- it is actually so "nothing" as to be the most far from intimate that you can get. Dying is different from death- but I'll talk about that later after a few rainbow posts. Death is final and it feels so very impersonal...so nonchalant to the things we care about. I can't watch movies that are too violent or horror scary movies because I just don't sit well with gobs of death. Call me a wuss or whatever- but I don't have it in me. Death is the opposite of life, the antithesis of a person, and it leaves no farewell letter, no post script, just nothingness. And we have no idea what happens after we die.
We have ideas maybe- but we don't KNOW what happens. We hear about ghosts, we read about the presence of people with us, we learn about saints and demons, we think about angels and we pray about heaven. I don't know about all those things, but my faith and my relationship with God tells me that there is a heaven. Heaven to me is simply home. One of the bible verses read in the funeral service today was Jesus talking to his disciples about going to prepare a place for them- do not let your hearts me troubled, do not fear- he basically says to them- I will come and get you and take you home.
That is beautiful to me. Jesus- and I don't mean the icky scary bloody judgy Jesus that some people have been introduced to- no I mean Jesus- our friend and companion- will come get us when we're done- I don't know how- but I'm going with it, going with Jesus when I see him. Then we get to go home. Home may be more a feeling than a space... We will be home. We will feel love in the air like the humdity in July. We will drink joy and breathe belonging. Home- like we long for here on earth- and heaven is on earth you know- there are these twinkling moments when we catch a glimpse of what God is working on, planning for, believing in.
I don't believe in hell. There you go. I may be so wrong it's ridiculous- and I am fine with that- but for right now- with the mind I have and the God I have gotten to know- I can't believe in a lake of firey torment. If I have feelings of mercy for people- than I believe my God can outdo me in mercy. What about justice? What about crazy evil people like the token Hitler? I wonder if maybe this home doesn't feel heavenly at first for some people. Maybe a mass-murderer has to face the people whose lives he snuffed every day for eternity until finally he allows God to clean his heart and soul. I don't know. It's hard to think in terms of Hitler, even the lowly normal generally not perfect people like myself- Maybe when we are home with God- we see the truth and it hurts and frees us all at the same time. Maybe we all experience some forms of hell, heaven and purgatory when we're Home. I don't know. Maybe this life is all we have- I can't think in those terms right now because it seems too precious, too tiny to make sense... maybe heaven is our way of giving ourselves more time to learn. I don't know. I haven't worked out the details mainly because I haven't had to. My faith and my heart tells me that the only thing I neeed to know is that I am with God- today and tomorrow and forever. If I can trust that- then I can wait for Jesus to come and get me, I can go home to the place prepared for me and I can go from there- if it hurts, I trust God to get me to the redemption. I feel like that's where God is going most of the time anyway.
Selfishly, I need heaven. Death is so final and impersonal that I need my God to have the last, personal word. That's what all of this talk is from Jesus about his own death and resurrection- death no longer has its sting, victory no longer goes to the silent black hole. I need that, crave that, and put my faith in that. Death cannot be the last line. What does life after death look like? Beats me- I just hope it's home with God and after that- we'll figure it out.
So death- it sucks and it's normal. But with all my heart I believe the last words are not done, nothing, void- but rather life, fullness, love, truth, freedom, home.
Death is on my mind for various reasons. The most obvious one being that I went to a funeral today. Death is so incredibly weird. It is ridiculously final and has no second chance. Death is rare and plentiful at the same time. Many people die but everyone only gets 1 shot at it. I don't think it would be fair to say I have come to terms with my own mortality- but I am coming to terms with the reality of death in general. People die - unfortunately without much control or influence from me on timing. My Grandfather (Opa) died in December of 2001 when the world was still reeling from 9/11. His graveside service was held in Arlington National Cemetary, in the shadows of the pentagon's damage. We literally stood on a hill overlooking the great dent of the pentagon while hearing the taps for Opa. Papaush- my other grandfather- died the week before bike week in Daytona Beach, FL. So when I drove to attend his funeral- I fought traffic and was flashed the bird everytime I dared to change lanes between biker groups. Memaush died the Friday before Thanksgiving, making Thanksgiving last year a strange and beautiful family reunion.
Death is not a person or a thing, not a tool or a calling- it is actually so "nothing" as to be the most far from intimate that you can get. Dying is different from death- but I'll talk about that later after a few rainbow posts. Death is final and it feels so very impersonal...so nonchalant to the things we care about. I can't watch movies that are too violent or horror scary movies because I just don't sit well with gobs of death. Call me a wuss or whatever- but I don't have it in me. Death is the opposite of life, the antithesis of a person, and it leaves no farewell letter, no post script, just nothingness. And we have no idea what happens after we die.
We have ideas maybe- but we don't KNOW what happens. We hear about ghosts, we read about the presence of people with us, we learn about saints and demons, we think about angels and we pray about heaven. I don't know about all those things, but my faith and my relationship with God tells me that there is a heaven. Heaven to me is simply home. One of the bible verses read in the funeral service today was Jesus talking to his disciples about going to prepare a place for them- do not let your hearts me troubled, do not fear- he basically says to them- I will come and get you and take you home.
That is beautiful to me. Jesus- and I don't mean the icky scary bloody judgy Jesus that some people have been introduced to- no I mean Jesus- our friend and companion- will come get us when we're done- I don't know how- but I'm going with it, going with Jesus when I see him. Then we get to go home. Home may be more a feeling than a space... We will be home. We will feel love in the air like the humdity in July. We will drink joy and breathe belonging. Home- like we long for here on earth- and heaven is on earth you know- there are these twinkling moments when we catch a glimpse of what God is working on, planning for, believing in.
I don't believe in hell. There you go. I may be so wrong it's ridiculous- and I am fine with that- but for right now- with the mind I have and the God I have gotten to know- I can't believe in a lake of firey torment. If I have feelings of mercy for people- than I believe my God can outdo me in mercy. What about justice? What about crazy evil people like the token Hitler? I wonder if maybe this home doesn't feel heavenly at first for some people. Maybe a mass-murderer has to face the people whose lives he snuffed every day for eternity until finally he allows God to clean his heart and soul. I don't know. It's hard to think in terms of Hitler, even the lowly normal generally not perfect people like myself- Maybe when we are home with God- we see the truth and it hurts and frees us all at the same time. Maybe we all experience some forms of hell, heaven and purgatory when we're Home. I don't know. Maybe this life is all we have- I can't think in those terms right now because it seems too precious, too tiny to make sense... maybe heaven is our way of giving ourselves more time to learn. I don't know. I haven't worked out the details mainly because I haven't had to. My faith and my heart tells me that the only thing I neeed to know is that I am with God- today and tomorrow and forever. If I can trust that- then I can wait for Jesus to come and get me, I can go home to the place prepared for me and I can go from there- if it hurts, I trust God to get me to the redemption. I feel like that's where God is going most of the time anyway.
Selfishly, I need heaven. Death is so final and impersonal that I need my God to have the last, personal word. That's what all of this talk is from Jesus about his own death and resurrection- death no longer has its sting, victory no longer goes to the silent black hole. I need that, crave that, and put my faith in that. Death cannot be the last line. What does life after death look like? Beats me- I just hope it's home with God and after that- we'll figure it out.
So death- it sucks and it's normal. But with all my heart I believe the last words are not done, nothing, void- but rather life, fullness, love, truth, freedom, home.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Life's Mysteries
Tonight I had a fabulous dinner with a fabulous new friend (don't you love those new friendships where you can't get enough conversation into each breath?)...and she is struggling with the life questions that the rest of the world struggles with whether they have the audacity to sit and face it or not. She is facing them head on and feels bad about talking to me about it. Are you kidding me? I love to talk about this stuff!! Questions like: Why the hell am I here? What should I be doing if things don't work out as I planned? Is there A Plan? How do I get to be a part of a community? How do I follow God's call if I don't know what it is and am fairly convinced God has become mute? These are the questions that we don't ask enough while staring at our face in the mirror- and even less often enough in a community.
I loved my friend Kelly's insight when she basically put together the idea of a community with her search for direction- or calling- whatever you might call it. She recognized that she needed people around her to encourage her, to help her and to support her in her search and struggle. It felt like the right question. I think (I'm getting all Jesus freak people now) that Jesus was less about the right answers and more about the right questions. There are so many instances in the bible when Jesus responds to a question with a question- which I'm sure was super annoying... but I think he was trying to reframe the situation. The question: "what is my purpose?" may not be as appropriate as "Who do I travel with?" Or maybe "Whose am I?"
So this conversation with Kelly really inspired me to dig out those life mystery questions and think out loud, on paper about them. So we'll see how long this lasts- but this is what I can get excited about. It's not my own answers to the questions that I love- but the questions I discover hidden beneath the big questions. On this blog I'll express my opinion, but I hope that the compelling part will be that I thought about something, named it, circled it and swam through it. I hope the inspiring part will be that I came up with something that I can call my own and that it will be valid- not because it is "right"- but because I am a child of God and what I think and feel and believe are valid experiences through my relationship with God. No one may agree with me and everyone may agree with me... the exciting part will be- are we still asking?
One of my favorite tag-lines about God comes from the United Church of Christ's ad campaign that "God is still speaking." I freakin love this idea. God is still speaking. The bible is not a dead fish, my brain is not a library for resources, people are not voids to fill with information- God is still speaking-creating-loving-relating-being with us. That should rock my world. Kelly inspired me to let it again.
This is what she was getting to about community- people can inspire you or be the catalyst for something greater that you wouldn't have done on your own. That's why Jesus kept rambling about this body of christ community mumbo-jumbo. It's like- one of the best ideas ever. Marriage, friendship, book clubs, ladies night and festivals- these are all snapshots big and small of what God is going for in the church, and man does the church suck at it lots of times- but when the church rises to the occasion of being The Church- it is one of the most inspiring and beautiful things. Kind of like that kick-ass rainbow Kelly and I saw outside that seriously made a full arch- we could see the leprachaun and pot of gold.
I love me some good Jesus chatting. So here we go- hopefully I'll write a little each day about what I think (it's all about me in this blog apparently) about life's mysteries.... community, church, calling, jesus, the whole crucifixion thing, etc. Prepare to ask questions with me.
I loved my friend Kelly's insight when she basically put together the idea of a community with her search for direction- or calling- whatever you might call it. She recognized that she needed people around her to encourage her, to help her and to support her in her search and struggle. It felt like the right question. I think (I'm getting all Jesus freak people now) that Jesus was less about the right answers and more about the right questions. There are so many instances in the bible when Jesus responds to a question with a question- which I'm sure was super annoying... but I think he was trying to reframe the situation. The question: "what is my purpose?" may not be as appropriate as "Who do I travel with?" Or maybe "Whose am I?"
So this conversation with Kelly really inspired me to dig out those life mystery questions and think out loud, on paper about them. So we'll see how long this lasts- but this is what I can get excited about. It's not my own answers to the questions that I love- but the questions I discover hidden beneath the big questions. On this blog I'll express my opinion, but I hope that the compelling part will be that I thought about something, named it, circled it and swam through it. I hope the inspiring part will be that I came up with something that I can call my own and that it will be valid- not because it is "right"- but because I am a child of God and what I think and feel and believe are valid experiences through my relationship with God. No one may agree with me and everyone may agree with me... the exciting part will be- are we still asking?
One of my favorite tag-lines about God comes from the United Church of Christ's ad campaign that "God is still speaking." I freakin love this idea. God is still speaking. The bible is not a dead fish, my brain is not a library for resources, people are not voids to fill with information- God is still speaking-creating-loving-relating-being with us. That should rock my world. Kelly inspired me to let it again.
This is what she was getting to about community- people can inspire you or be the catalyst for something greater that you wouldn't have done on your own. That's why Jesus kept rambling about this body of christ community mumbo-jumbo. It's like- one of the best ideas ever. Marriage, friendship, book clubs, ladies night and festivals- these are all snapshots big and small of what God is going for in the church, and man does the church suck at it lots of times- but when the church rises to the occasion of being The Church- it is one of the most inspiring and beautiful things. Kind of like that kick-ass rainbow Kelly and I saw outside that seriously made a full arch- we could see the leprachaun and pot of gold.
I love me some good Jesus chatting. So here we go- hopefully I'll write a little each day about what I think (it's all about me in this blog apparently) about life's mysteries.... community, church, calling, jesus, the whole crucifixion thing, etc. Prepare to ask questions with me.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Going to bed
Jason is at annual conference (church world)- and so instead of making the trip with him- I decided to keep Hunter home so we could keep going on the "let's be normal" sleeping patterns... I invited a good friend to come spend the night and be my ears and she so willingly obliged- it was relly nice. I realized a few things: A- it's nice that I need to ask for help every now and again, it gives me opportunities to connect with people and keeps me more open to inviting people into my world of crazy... B- there are a lot of people who understand crazy and think they are alone, it's nice to support each other.... C- I never get anything officially done when Jason goes out of town. :)
I'm tired- so going to bed. Good night all! Hopefully Hunter sleeps late enough that my guest ears doesn't have to get up too early!
I'm tired- so going to bed. Good night all! Hopefully Hunter sleeps late enough that my guest ears doesn't have to get up too early!
Saturday, June 12, 2010
TAKE A NAP!
it is unbelievable how much my day is affected by whether Hunter naps or not. I feel like if he knew he would at least fake it for me. When he is literally resting his head on the side of the crib- it's kinda hard for me not to want to scream upstairs TAKE A NAP! Like- seriously? I have patience for most things- really don't lose my cool much- except when he does these numbers. It's just short of maddening to me.
I need to get my cool on though, turn the monitor volume down and stop obsessing about why he's not taking a nap or whether he may have pooped or not or if I should have just sat in the car with the ac on and let him sleep through lunch, in 90 degree weather. hard to do...
Today I went to the fabric store and got fun things that I'm not going to have time to do bc Hunter is not napping. hmm- not helping... um- Jason is doing a wedding today which is fun for him ... but I can't do anything.... ok- I guess I'm just going to have to embrace this sour mood and plow through it.
I am grumpy because right now i feel like my child is absolutely positively the most ridiculous person for being so freaking tired but whining his head off because for some reason it seems like a nap is the dumbest idea to him... in the meantime I'm in limbo land and can't do jacksquat because I have this weird idea that if i make a peep or actually do something than somehow i've jinxed my chances of him sleeping and so i just sit and be anxious. then i go get him and although he has physically been out of my sight he has been mentally with me the whole time and so i never really get a break and i end up resenting him- which doesnt couple well with his exhuastion and crankiness that result from a non-nap.
That didn't help as much as it should. but oh well- i should go pick up cranky pants now and let him be fussy until 8 when he goes to bed. super duper excited.
good lord my blog is like a roller coaster! I'm just annoyed right now. I'll get over this- and overall other than the missed nap- today is a good day.
ok. perspective.
wait... is it possible? don't hold your breath- but after nearly an hour of on and off fussing, standing, sitting, leaning- he is laying down and not recently crying. Just kidding- laying down and whining. i pay for every victory.
I'm done blogging about this. sorry to all for the frustrating roller coaster!
I need to get my cool on though, turn the monitor volume down and stop obsessing about why he's not taking a nap or whether he may have pooped or not or if I should have just sat in the car with the ac on and let him sleep through lunch, in 90 degree weather. hard to do...
Today I went to the fabric store and got fun things that I'm not going to have time to do bc Hunter is not napping. hmm- not helping... um- Jason is doing a wedding today which is fun for him ... but I can't do anything.... ok- I guess I'm just going to have to embrace this sour mood and plow through it.
I am grumpy because right now i feel like my child is absolutely positively the most ridiculous person for being so freaking tired but whining his head off because for some reason it seems like a nap is the dumbest idea to him... in the meantime I'm in limbo land and can't do jacksquat because I have this weird idea that if i make a peep or actually do something than somehow i've jinxed my chances of him sleeping and so i just sit and be anxious. then i go get him and although he has physically been out of my sight he has been mentally with me the whole time and so i never really get a break and i end up resenting him- which doesnt couple well with his exhuastion and crankiness that result from a non-nap.
That didn't help as much as it should. but oh well- i should go pick up cranky pants now and let him be fussy until 8 when he goes to bed. super duper excited.
good lord my blog is like a roller coaster! I'm just annoyed right now. I'll get over this- and overall other than the missed nap- today is a good day.
ok. perspective.
wait... is it possible? don't hold your breath- but after nearly an hour of on and off fussing, standing, sitting, leaning- he is laying down and not recently crying. Just kidding- laying down and whining. i pay for every victory.
I'm done blogging about this. sorry to all for the frustrating roller coaster!
Friday, June 11, 2010
...and we're back!
My google email does this when my internet goes on the fritz and then it comes back on- like a little welcome message to me. I heart gmail. But that's not what this post is about. This post is about me- back in bis-nass. Here are the following thing that made today much better than yesterday: although I did NOT go to bed early last not OR wake up early to exercise this morning (we're going to tonight when I'm done telling you about my day)- I DID get up and shower without Ms Grumpnass in my head. That's milady Period leaving the building- with all her aftershock hormones too. I mean wow- I really physically felt like a different person today- I never knew PMS was real. Anyway. Then- I took my darling son who was not as upset about leaving his Daddy (he SO prefers him to me) today- and we travelled to Grandmother's/GiGi's. I may have stopped by Chick fil a to get a large coffee (and a breakfast sandwich and hashbrowns). We made it to Grandmother's in time only to find her a little flustered (of course Hunter ran to greet her in the bedroom before I had a chance to get the key out of the front door)- because she had just woken up not long before. I was a little annoyed because we hired people to get her up and do meals with her- so obviously they slacked a little today. But again- my day wasn't devastated- so my hormones are back on track.
THEN we waited for.... drum roll please.... the appraiser. Totally. geeked. out. So pumped to meet this master of old junk and treasures. She arrives perfectly outfitted and personality fit for the job title. Sort of reserved, a little snooty on the intellectual side but warmed enough by the love of a good story in items that she just felt nice and interested. SO- she's expensive (of course she is) and I kind of made the executive decision to go for it. And she photo'd, measured, noted, and such for a while. Hunter played well- we went to lunch which was surprisingly successful considering Hunter was about to fall asleep in his watermelon. We went back to the apartment, Hunter went down for a nap.... hold it- this Hunter who has been in a ridiculous crying phase about sleeping, cried only 10 minutes and then took a TWO HOUR nap. Glorious. The Appraiser made little comments here and there (not many- she was fairly reserved)- and they all made me feel good and proud- I wish Grandmother could have appreciated it. She would say things like: this china is in very good condition, or- I've never seen anything like this before. Grandmother does not realize that this is like- expert on antiques- saying these things. That's like the british nanny lady saying your kids are well-behaved. Cesar Milan saying your dog is calm and submissive. It's exciting and Grandmother is like- yea whatever. But I am eating it up. Trying so hard NOT to pester the lady with 768 questions that have nothing to do with the current task and everything to do with my fantasies involving antique roadshow. Two things I got excited about: my Grandmother has this hair wreath (yea- you read that right) that consists of locks of hair woven and braided. These hair locks are from Grandmother's Mother's family. Cool for Mom and me- weird for other people. I am secretly hoping that The Appraiser also finds it cool. She does. She really does. She even says- and I quote: "this might belong in the smithsonian! What a unique piece of American history." This is also the thing she's never seen before- so there is a chance she looks it up and finds out it's the equivalent of the special ash trays in a trailer park in the Southwest. But I REALLY hope it's Smithsonian material. Why? I don't know- that's just freakin cool. Thing #2- I randomly found two really cool handmade in France purses in Grandmother's "fancy purse" pile (didn't know she had one) last week. One purse had a matching 1920-40s style hat inside that was also handmade and sequinned/beaded for style. Super adorable, and guess what? The Appraiser thought so too. She enjoyed them very much- said they might be valuable (again we may not be talking big bucks- but how cool that I just happened upon them recently?). I feel like I just read all the way to the climax of a super intense novel and I've misplaced it. I CAN NOT WAIT until she turns in her report to me. Cannot. Pu-umped.
So Hunter woke up, The Appraiser finished- Grandmother wrote a check for half and kinda freaked out. (right- she's expensive and Grandmother thinks she's the cleaning lady) I call home- talk to most members of my family until finally I get in touch with my Dad. I'm nervous because he gave me a figure to tell The Appraiser to stay within and I um, doubled it. Yea. So my Dad rocks because he made me feel so good about it and got excited about stuff and said it might be the most well-spent money yet. How's that for making you feel better!?!
OK- so we go home, I'm all excited about The Appraiser. Jason is at a wedding rehearsal and I'm actually fine with it- because I'm still on Antique high. I look at the mail- and there on the table is a letter from this pharmacy that has been so persistent in calling and mailing that I had them mail everything to me instead of Grandmother. They mailed me bills for the medicine that was administered to Grandmother during her stay at the rehab facility. I called them and did the equivalent of gentle yelling to let them know that she had not 1, 2, but 3 forms of medical insurance. Bill them- not me. SO- I got this letter and after 6 months of the same bill- I expect the same thing. Inside is Christmas. An itemized list of all her medications and their charge, as well as all charges deleted and a balance of ZERO, 0. I'm framing it.
Now- I need to end this so I can exercise. We went out to eat- I had a salad (go me), Hunter fell asleep at 830pm (which was what I wanted) after crying only 5 minutes. and now we're going to exercise. AND- lately I've been... well- happier in many ways. ; ) So we're doing good.
A good day. A gooood day. Thank you God.
THEN we waited for.... drum roll please.... the appraiser. Totally. geeked. out. So pumped to meet this master of old junk and treasures. She arrives perfectly outfitted and personality fit for the job title. Sort of reserved, a little snooty on the intellectual side but warmed enough by the love of a good story in items that she just felt nice and interested. SO- she's expensive (of course she is) and I kind of made the executive decision to go for it. And she photo'd, measured, noted, and such for a while. Hunter played well- we went to lunch which was surprisingly successful considering Hunter was about to fall asleep in his watermelon. We went back to the apartment, Hunter went down for a nap.... hold it- this Hunter who has been in a ridiculous crying phase about sleeping, cried only 10 minutes and then took a TWO HOUR nap. Glorious. The Appraiser made little comments here and there (not many- she was fairly reserved)- and they all made me feel good and proud- I wish Grandmother could have appreciated it. She would say things like: this china is in very good condition, or- I've never seen anything like this before. Grandmother does not realize that this is like- expert on antiques- saying these things. That's like the british nanny lady saying your kids are well-behaved. Cesar Milan saying your dog is calm and submissive. It's exciting and Grandmother is like- yea whatever. But I am eating it up. Trying so hard NOT to pester the lady with 768 questions that have nothing to do with the current task and everything to do with my fantasies involving antique roadshow. Two things I got excited about: my Grandmother has this hair wreath (yea- you read that right) that consists of locks of hair woven and braided. These hair locks are from Grandmother's Mother's family. Cool for Mom and me- weird for other people. I am secretly hoping that The Appraiser also finds it cool. She does. She really does. She even says- and I quote: "this might belong in the smithsonian! What a unique piece of American history." This is also the thing she's never seen before- so there is a chance she looks it up and finds out it's the equivalent of the special ash trays in a trailer park in the Southwest. But I REALLY hope it's Smithsonian material. Why? I don't know- that's just freakin cool. Thing #2- I randomly found two really cool handmade in France purses in Grandmother's "fancy purse" pile (didn't know she had one) last week. One purse had a matching 1920-40s style hat inside that was also handmade and sequinned/beaded for style. Super adorable, and guess what? The Appraiser thought so too. She enjoyed them very much- said they might be valuable (again we may not be talking big bucks- but how cool that I just happened upon them recently?). I feel like I just read all the way to the climax of a super intense novel and I've misplaced it. I CAN NOT WAIT until she turns in her report to me. Cannot. Pu-umped.
So Hunter woke up, The Appraiser finished- Grandmother wrote a check for half and kinda freaked out. (right- she's expensive and Grandmother thinks she's the cleaning lady) I call home- talk to most members of my family until finally I get in touch with my Dad. I'm nervous because he gave me a figure to tell The Appraiser to stay within and I um, doubled it. Yea. So my Dad rocks because he made me feel so good about it and got excited about stuff and said it might be the most well-spent money yet. How's that for making you feel better!?!
OK- so we go home, I'm all excited about The Appraiser. Jason is at a wedding rehearsal and I'm actually fine with it- because I'm still on Antique high. I look at the mail- and there on the table is a letter from this pharmacy that has been so persistent in calling and mailing that I had them mail everything to me instead of Grandmother. They mailed me bills for the medicine that was administered to Grandmother during her stay at the rehab facility. I called them and did the equivalent of gentle yelling to let them know that she had not 1, 2, but 3 forms of medical insurance. Bill them- not me. SO- I got this letter and after 6 months of the same bill- I expect the same thing. Inside is Christmas. An itemized list of all her medications and their charge, as well as all charges deleted and a balance of ZERO, 0. I'm framing it.
Now- I need to end this so I can exercise. We went out to eat- I had a salad (go me), Hunter fell asleep at 830pm (which was what I wanted) after crying only 5 minutes. and now we're going to exercise. AND- lately I've been... well- happier in many ways. ; ) So we're doing good.
A good day. A gooood day. Thank you God.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
long day, looong day
It's been a long day. One of those days that now that I'm at the end of it, I may not have the energy to recount it. But I'll try for you 4 people.
This morning I started out with a nice fight with the hubby, typical communication fiasco that took all day to work out (mostly because we weren't in the same room alone until about 930 at night. That was a good starter. Then I drove in traffic (already late bc of argument- and without coffee) until I got to my Grandmother's house in time to take her to her first of 2 appointments. Then we went to lunch (where hubby and baby joined us)- finding lunch was difficult, but Jason talked me to the location when my GPS didn't help. Jason also told me about someone very special from the church who had died. After I hung up my cell phone, relieved I found the place, Grandmother looks at me and says "I guess if I wanted to talk to you I should get my phone and call you." Wow. This is the sweetest, most polite woman in the world- and she just made the snarkiest comment ever. I have been angry with her maybe 2 or 3 times in my entire life- today was definitely one of them. I said clearly to her that Jason was coming to lunch and was just helping me find my way. She didn't seem to register that until later. I've thought about that comment, and my explanation is that her alzheimer's has lowered her filter- and so yea.
Then there's the second appointment- we go to the geriatric specialist and the basic gist is that Grandmother is 82 lbs and her blood pressure is low and her heartbeat can sometimes be irregular. She's always been tiny, etc- but I couldn't help but feel like a failure- like somehow I was responsible. And of course it confronted me with the fact that she's aging, her body is slowly dying. She's not actively dying- but she's not running anywhere. It was sort of sobering. She doesn't recognize it- doesn't understand why she needs to rest when she walks. The doctors don't ever say it- but basically all these are symptoms of end-of-life age. It doesn't mean she'll die in a year or that she'll live to 95 like her mother- but Grandmother is old. I think I actually realized that today. She'll be 88 in August. She's doing so well for her age that I think I forget that she's not 65. So does she.
Ugh. So then to fast-forward, go home- eat dinner with Amanda and family (which was awesome bc her Mom cooked for us and that was kind of what I needed), go home to put Hunter to bed who cries for 15 minutes again, finish argument with hubby in a finally productive way, and stay up way too late to write this blog so that I can get up at 6am and exercise.
Can I get a day that is long on peace and short on heartache?
This morning I started out with a nice fight with the hubby, typical communication fiasco that took all day to work out (mostly because we weren't in the same room alone until about 930 at night. That was a good starter. Then I drove in traffic (already late bc of argument- and without coffee) until I got to my Grandmother's house in time to take her to her first of 2 appointments. Then we went to lunch (where hubby and baby joined us)- finding lunch was difficult, but Jason talked me to the location when my GPS didn't help. Jason also told me about someone very special from the church who had died. After I hung up my cell phone, relieved I found the place, Grandmother looks at me and says "I guess if I wanted to talk to you I should get my phone and call you." Wow. This is the sweetest, most polite woman in the world- and she just made the snarkiest comment ever. I have been angry with her maybe 2 or 3 times in my entire life- today was definitely one of them. I said clearly to her that Jason was coming to lunch and was just helping me find my way. She didn't seem to register that until later. I've thought about that comment, and my explanation is that her alzheimer's has lowered her filter- and so yea.
Then there's the second appointment- we go to the geriatric specialist and the basic gist is that Grandmother is 82 lbs and her blood pressure is low and her heartbeat can sometimes be irregular. She's always been tiny, etc- but I couldn't help but feel like a failure- like somehow I was responsible. And of course it confronted me with the fact that she's aging, her body is slowly dying. She's not actively dying- but she's not running anywhere. It was sort of sobering. She doesn't recognize it- doesn't understand why she needs to rest when she walks. The doctors don't ever say it- but basically all these are symptoms of end-of-life age. It doesn't mean she'll die in a year or that she'll live to 95 like her mother- but Grandmother is old. I think I actually realized that today. She'll be 88 in August. She's doing so well for her age that I think I forget that she's not 65. So does she.
Ugh. So then to fast-forward, go home- eat dinner with Amanda and family (which was awesome bc her Mom cooked for us and that was kind of what I needed), go home to put Hunter to bed who cries for 15 minutes again, finish argument with hubby in a finally productive way, and stay up way too late to write this blog so that I can get up at 6am and exercise.
Can I get a day that is long on peace and short on heartache?
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Productive Again
It's all about the nap. Hunter sleeps- I get stuff done. I'm feeling much better today- running slower than usual, but faster than yesterday is a step in the right direction! I'm sorting through Grandmother things today- calling her doctors, calling an appraiser, calling the moving company, calling the .... I don't know who I'm calling- but we're getting places. I'm not-so-secretly super pumped about the appraiser. I am a geek about antiques and values. I love antique roadshow when they find out the values of things found in their homes. I know Grandmother has several items that are valuable- some more sentimental or by the story of where they came from- but valuable nonetheless. I can't wait to see her things through the eyes of an expert. Totally geeking out on this. Friday at 10am- here we come!
Meanwhile, I'm trying to do good things one step at a time. I have this "almost there" feeling about everything in my life. I'm almost organized, almost fit, almost pregnant, almost done. I know there isn't a true "done" when it comes to living life- but there are things that I have been working towards that are closer than they've ever been. These things are exciting and the closeness is either encouraging or defeating depending on the day and my mood. Obviously yesterday was a defeated day- but luckily today we're moving forward.
This is the kind of day where I have to resist the temptation to spend an hour making a new list and instead I must do the things on my old list, cross them out (what's the point of doing something if you can't cross it out?), and then....then I get to make THE list. You know the list. The mother list. The one that outlines every living thing in your head that creeps out at about 11:03pm when you are trying to go to sleep. Things like- move the files we use frequently upstairs for easy access, paint toy chest blue, mail fabric to persistent sister, put pictures from camera into computer and then post them on the blog for same persistent sister. Those kind of things.
So. I have to go. And do. And call. And list. Oh the mother list is calling me...
Meanwhile, I'm trying to do good things one step at a time. I have this "almost there" feeling about everything in my life. I'm almost organized, almost fit, almost pregnant, almost done. I know there isn't a true "done" when it comes to living life- but there are things that I have been working towards that are closer than they've ever been. These things are exciting and the closeness is either encouraging or defeating depending on the day and my mood. Obviously yesterday was a defeated day- but luckily today we're moving forward.
This is the kind of day where I have to resist the temptation to spend an hour making a new list and instead I must do the things on my old list, cross them out (what's the point of doing something if you can't cross it out?), and then....then I get to make THE list. You know the list. The mother list. The one that outlines every living thing in your head that creeps out at about 11:03pm when you are trying to go to sleep. Things like- move the files we use frequently upstairs for easy access, paint toy chest blue, mail fabric to persistent sister, put pictures from camera into computer and then post them on the blog for same persistent sister. Those kind of things.
So. I have to go. And do. And call. And list. Oh the mother list is calling me...
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Migraine
Migraine, stolen nap, messy house, bills, and delivery for dinner. That about sums up my day. I can't really do much by way of blogging other than to whine about the fact that as soon as I feel productive - I seem to be hit by a day like today. Discouraging. On the bright side- Hunter took a rare cuddle nap with me when Jason had a meeting and I snuggled with him downstairs- he hadn't had his nap today so when he got all snuggly with me in front of a movie- it was only minutes before he fell asleep. Sweet nap time for me. : )
Monday, June 7, 2010
Nap-time post
Ladies and gentlemen (or me and my sisters and few good friends that read this)- I am posting early. I decided NOT to get things done during Hunter's nap (like laundry, dishes, phone call making, etc) at least not until I posted on my blog. Not sure why- just sheer selfish choice.
Today I have been feeling pretty good emotionally- bouncing back from my PMS and working through my "WTH is this period." (funny random story- my sister and I were driving home from college three decades ago and saw a license plate that read WTH 911- or at least that's what I remember- and we decided it was a quote "what the hell! 911!" and thought it was really really really funny... that's what 8 straight hours of interstate will do for you... it also makes wipers funny).
Hunter is taking his nap now...sooo nice. Meanwhile, I've been pretty useful lately- I assisted in childbirth, advised in mothering, taught 5th grade Sunday School, helped two sisters through two separate dramas (one was immersed in other people's drama, the other had drama in her own life), went to see a niece for her birthday party, the list goes on and on.. I also helped my husband get up this morning. We physically got out of bed to exercise around 630am (the goal was 6) and we did it! I cheered him on as I did the exercise bike (he did wii-fit and eActive). Way to go me. Way to go Jason! Our goal is to exercise at least 5 days a week. That's my goal. And to stop feeling like a fat-ass.
In other news- today is Bruno's 4th birthday. Poor mutt- we never did anything for his birthday. I always just randomly remembered and was sure to give him extra treats. He is happily chewing on his bone- and I did say happy birthday, but he was more concerned with the fact that I stopped petting him when I said it. SO- I think I'm going to give him his heartworm prevention medicine today- then I'll remember when I did it, and they are kind of like treats to him.
Another useful thing I did today- I let my ancient computer update everything it keeps asking me to update. I can already tell she's happier. I guess it's like getting a hip replaced- hurts to do it, but it's got to get done. I took 30 precious minutes of Hunter nap time to do this- so let's just say Merry Christmas to Computer.
I would like to get other things done today- but after reading all the things I have accomplished- I feel that I have filled my quota and anything after this will be just good will.
Ok- so this possibly is the most random post I have ever posted.
Today I have been feeling pretty good emotionally- bouncing back from my PMS and working through my "WTH is this period." (funny random story- my sister and I were driving home from college three decades ago and saw a license plate that read WTH 911- or at least that's what I remember- and we decided it was a quote "what the hell! 911!" and thought it was really really really funny... that's what 8 straight hours of interstate will do for you... it also makes wipers funny).
Hunter is taking his nap now...sooo nice. Meanwhile, I've been pretty useful lately- I assisted in childbirth, advised in mothering, taught 5th grade Sunday School, helped two sisters through two separate dramas (one was immersed in other people's drama, the other had drama in her own life), went to see a niece for her birthday party, the list goes on and on.. I also helped my husband get up this morning. We physically got out of bed to exercise around 630am (the goal was 6) and we did it! I cheered him on as I did the exercise bike (he did wii-fit and eActive). Way to go me. Way to go Jason! Our goal is to exercise at least 5 days a week. That's my goal. And to stop feeling like a fat-ass.
In other news- today is Bruno's 4th birthday. Poor mutt- we never did anything for his birthday. I always just randomly remembered and was sure to give him extra treats. He is happily chewing on his bone- and I did say happy birthday, but he was more concerned with the fact that I stopped petting him when I said it. SO- I think I'm going to give him his heartworm prevention medicine today- then I'll remember when I did it, and they are kind of like treats to him.
Another useful thing I did today- I let my ancient computer update everything it keeps asking me to update. I can already tell she's happier. I guess it's like getting a hip replaced- hurts to do it, but it's got to get done. I took 30 precious minutes of Hunter nap time to do this- so let's just say Merry Christmas to Computer.
I would like to get other things done today- but after reading all the things I have accomplished- I feel that I have filled my quota and anything after this will be just good will.
Ok- so this possibly is the most random post I have ever posted.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
I like Dark Chocolate
This was one of the topics I told my sister Jessa that I should post on should I be too exhausted to write much and just need to state facts about myself. I do like dark chocolate. For me- milk chocolate is a joke when you have the option of dark chocolate.
I am exhausted- and it is "that time" and apparently when you've had a baby- you get the "time" really awesomely. Basically I never had pms, cramps or any of that junk. I got it all this time. Seriously? I had to grow up and have a baby to feel like a teenager going through puberty? It feels a little backwards.
So I need to get off my ass and write about dark chocolate even when it's that time... Oh- and my husband and I are starting our new exercise routine tomorrow- because I am an amazing wife and know he will do it if I do it. The only problem is that this routine consists of getting up at 6am. Whew. That is a LOT of love. My husband better be giving me foot rubs every night. We're going to get skinny and feel awesome- because of me. I give the gift of life freely. But it does suck that it costs me precious sleep time. SO- all those weird words to say- I'm tired, and I'm about to volunteer to be more tired- and it's all for love- and I am going to say goodnight now so that the love doesn't run out.
(wow- did anyone understand this post?)
I am exhausted- and it is "that time" and apparently when you've had a baby- you get the "time" really awesomely. Basically I never had pms, cramps or any of that junk. I got it all this time. Seriously? I had to grow up and have a baby to feel like a teenager going through puberty? It feels a little backwards.
So I need to get off my ass and write about dark chocolate even when it's that time... Oh- and my husband and I are starting our new exercise routine tomorrow- because I am an amazing wife and know he will do it if I do it. The only problem is that this routine consists of getting up at 6am. Whew. That is a LOT of love. My husband better be giving me foot rubs every night. We're going to get skinny and feel awesome- because of me. I give the gift of life freely. But it does suck that it costs me precious sleep time. SO- all those weird words to say- I'm tired, and I'm about to volunteer to be more tired- and it's all for love- and I am going to say goodnight now so that the love doesn't run out.
(wow- did anyone understand this post?)
Thursday, June 3, 2010
still exhausted
So- I think it must be getting close to "that time of the month" for me- because I'm a little snarky and tiiiiired. Right now there are several things I should do/could do. Anddd I don't want to do any of it. The only thing stopping me from crawling into bed is the fact that it's 8:30pm and the sheets aren't on the bed. I should work on my Sunday School lesson. I should do laundry. I should write a longer blog. I should go through Grandmother stuff. I should email about Grandmother updates to my Dad and uncle. But nope. I just want to lie in bed. The problem is that if I actually got the sheets on, got ready for bed, etc... I would probably lie awake thinking. So instead I will probably do something stupid like surf around on the internet for ceiling fans to go in the sunroom, better lighting for the basement, and a fan for the guest bedroom downstairs... oh wait- I already did that. Hmmm, then I will most likely wallow in facebook boredom until Jason comes home from his meeting and asks me why I'm crazy.
Maybe witnessing childbirth is rocking my brain and body. I got to hold her today by the way. Amanda and Jeremy's baby Lily- she's 6 lbs, 7 oz and precious. Tiny. I really thought she would float out of my arms she's so light compared to lugging my precious 35 lb (give or take) bowling ball of a child. I'm praying for Amanda as she navigates the first 6 months of mom-hood. No one can prepare you for the steeeeep learning curve, the crazy-ass emotions and the vapor of fuzzy in and around your head until that first week of some-what normal sleep. It's awesome and sucky all at the same time. And weirdly- I kinda can't wait to do it again. : )
Maybe witnessing childbirth is rocking my brain and body. I got to hold her today by the way. Amanda and Jeremy's baby Lily- she's 6 lbs, 7 oz and precious. Tiny. I really thought she would float out of my arms she's so light compared to lugging my precious 35 lb (give or take) bowling ball of a child. I'm praying for Amanda as she navigates the first 6 months of mom-hood. No one can prepare you for the steeeeep learning curve, the crazy-ass emotions and the vapor of fuzzy in and around your head until that first week of some-what normal sleep. It's awesome and sucky all at the same time. And weirdly- I kinda can't wait to do it again. : )
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Childbirth
I witnessed it. Saw a baby girl spend her first few seconds in the world. Amazing. Astounding. I am exhausted (I know, I know- I didn't give birth). I will post on this later- but am too tired right now! : )
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
HOV!
Um. I had an exhilirating experience in the HOV lane on 395, 495, and 95. Let me describe it for you real simple here now: speed. I was driving back from an unproductive appointment (for/with my Grandmother) and managed to put the wheels on the road at OH-5:30. THE rush hour. As we lurched to and fro in the traffic and my GPS kept changing directions to "get us out of traffic" (if Grandmother hadn't been in the car, I would be screaming at it: "THERE IS NO OUT OF TRAFFIC DUMNBASS!")... uh- oh yea- as we did the stop and go thing- I saw a sign. The sign said- exit left for HOV lane. I thought- hmmm- I've never done the whole get stuck in the middle HOV lane before because I didn't know where it went or how you got off. Do you go around 395 in an eternal circle of traffic hell? I looked right to the stopped cars, looked ahead to the stupid changing GPS and took a gamble. I went left.
We merged onto what must be called the highway for the elite. Select cars that are given permission to fly past the lesser people in those "regular" lanes to the right. FLY we did. We were going 65-75 mph- no pausing, no stop and go. The best part was Grandmother's innate sense of weird sympathy (it happens when she's most glad NOT to be "them")- she says in near delight: "Oh look at those poor cars all just sitting there- they must wonder if they'll ever get home!"
I too am wondering- because this flight out of DC seems to be too good to be true- surely there's a bridge that's out or something! I try to think ahead as my GPS is still trying to figure out which exit I should take to avoid the traffic that I must be flying over somehow- and I think- ooh- I have to get on 495 to get to 95. Then I see another sign. 495/95 south HOV exit- 1 mile. Again- can it be? Is it that easy? I follow the signs, things start looking familiar- and suddenly we're on 95 south heading straight for Grandma's house. At this point Grandmother is delirious with her pity on the poor lesser people- I am thinking of myself as a little less than angels and the hallelujah chorus is streaming from the clouds... Then it occurs to me- I have to exit to go to Grandmother's house. I'm figuring I've saved us 7 hours at this point (honestly- I really saved us upwards toward 45 minutes) and even if we have to join the lesser people- it's ok. Then I see the sign: Ft. Belvoir- left exit- 3/4 mile. I take it- and it wraps me up and around and over the lessers. I then cruise a good 3/4 a mile before finally merging onto "regular" 95, only about a mile from my exit.
I would pay someone to hang out in DC all day and ride home with me just so I could do HOV. WHY do so few people carpool?!?
I have a new respect for Northern Virginia's HOV system. I enjoyed spending some high class time with the select.
We merged onto what must be called the highway for the elite. Select cars that are given permission to fly past the lesser people in those "regular" lanes to the right. FLY we did. We were going 65-75 mph- no pausing, no stop and go. The best part was Grandmother's innate sense of weird sympathy (it happens when she's most glad NOT to be "them")- she says in near delight: "Oh look at those poor cars all just sitting there- they must wonder if they'll ever get home!"
I too am wondering- because this flight out of DC seems to be too good to be true- surely there's a bridge that's out or something! I try to think ahead as my GPS is still trying to figure out which exit I should take to avoid the traffic that I must be flying over somehow- and I think- ooh- I have to get on 495 to get to 95. Then I see another sign. 495/95 south HOV exit- 1 mile. Again- can it be? Is it that easy? I follow the signs, things start looking familiar- and suddenly we're on 95 south heading straight for Grandma's house. At this point Grandmother is delirious with her pity on the poor lesser people- I am thinking of myself as a little less than angels and the hallelujah chorus is streaming from the clouds... Then it occurs to me- I have to exit to go to Grandmother's house. I'm figuring I've saved us 7 hours at this point (honestly- I really saved us upwards toward 45 minutes) and even if we have to join the lesser people- it's ok. Then I see the sign: Ft. Belvoir- left exit- 3/4 mile. I take it- and it wraps me up and around and over the lessers. I then cruise a good 3/4 a mile before finally merging onto "regular" 95, only about a mile from my exit.
I would pay someone to hang out in DC all day and ride home with me just so I could do HOV. WHY do so few people carpool?!?
I have a new respect for Northern Virginia's HOV system. I enjoyed spending some high class time with the select.
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