If there is anything I have learned from a 15 year yoga practice is to wait. Just wait. Wait and something will change. Maybe you are prepared for the result. Maybe not.
In my last post, I spoke about a change that was going on, a reawakening of sorts. That was the honeymoon phase of what has proved to be a long, drawn out, uncertain time. When I would think about it I would ask myself "Well? What the hell are you waiting on? Get changed and move on already" But if life were that simple I would be thinner and have a better garden.
All in due time, self.
The moments that catch you unawares seem to be the most poignant. For some back story, G Dub and I left our church congregation which isolated us from many that we had high emotional attachment to but gave us the space to concentrate on us and our immediate family. We still can't describe why we needed that as a church family should hold you together, support you. But we have been visiting another congregation, in the meantime, to keep us and the Little Monsters within the faith and not lose sight of this journey. But I noticed I have been holding back.
This church has music, which is a new component of our worship. If anyone knows me, music can make me crazy, like when I listen to Metallica while driving; it makes me think nostalgically of past loves or funerals. Or most importantly, music will drive me to tears. And tears are not something that I share easily or, God forbid, someone know that I have them. I have been moved to hidden tears for weeks. I can't let them fall for fear that they may never stop. I can't respond to an alter call for fear that they may never stop. I can't speak about it for fear they may never stop.
Looking into the face of an emotional breakdown and letting go of attachments is proving to be a little much for me. It's a loss of control over where I'm going. I can liken this to a hermit crab that grows too big for his shell and is in search of a bigger home to grow and develop. Letting go of a perfectly good shell only to occupy a space to which you have to fill with meaning and value is a hard concept. Maybe not for a hermit crab because I'm sure he feels better but it is for me. So there is why I wait. Where is my bigger shell?
Going back to yoga. My body has changed since having the Little Monsters and I need yoga. It's not like when I started and I could just do whatever I wanted with my body and not worry about the mindfulness of my practice; no, I need it to keep me strong and now to bring acuity and strength to my mind. I'm not there to socialize. I have to talk enough. I'm not there to meet people. I know enough already. I'm not there for anyone other than this little body that I have been given. I walk in, do my yoga and leave. I leave happy. I leave recharged.
I have switched disciplines of yoga too. Gone are the days of precision with Iyengar. Give me a vinyasa that opens my heart, that doesn't matter if my pinky toe is pointed correctly, that lets me feel joy at just being able to show up. Because you know my Monsters will find a way to thwart the best laid plans. Like today - we were late and I missed the exit on the interstate so I missed the basic class. Today was my first real Ashtanga class. This was not coincidence.
I was in pain but not like I thought. I was more open than I thought. I was sweating more than I thought. And in Savasana the tears that rolled into my ears told me that all was well.
And the tears stopped just like I thought.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Monday, September 23, 2013
Not Even Explainable
Well, hello there. My name is Fastlass, how are you?
I feel like I have to reintroduce myself. And I'm resurfacing as a newer, if older, woman. Still greatly depended on, still ADD, still the same ol' me but with intelligible thoughts. :)
A reawakening is going on here and it's long overdue. So looooong. While raising the Little Monsters (so coined by PawPaw and said with devotion) I have forgotten about my marriage and about me. And that's fine. The most important job took my time and I kept hearing this benign statement of "You have to make time for yourself". It is physically impossible for my eyes to roll large enough to show how moronic I think these words are. If you know a mother or a mother that works outside of the home, go hug her. And hug her with genuine gratitude. You should be doing this anyway but if it's been a while do it. Now.
This weekend was a total recapture of psyche. G Dub and I are feeling just a nip of guilt at the level of selfishness going on here but also a defiance that screams " WE JUST WANT TO BE TOGETHER AND DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR RULES!" We didn't care about popular convention anyway but well intended and copious unsolicited advice about family has made us bust out like depraved convicts into our happy zones of yesteryear. We giggle at the pics of us as 25 year old children. Blush at the gushy notes and letters. We've had a lull but grown together again with a greater purpose and sense of responsibility. We feel young and in love not roommates reacting to needs. Ahhhh. No explaining where we have been; just moving forward.
I'm going to go ahead and mention the inspiration for this entry. We spent last night listening to Lucinda Williams and sat with a couple that were just the nicest folks to be with. We were in the media section, having used my skill at getting to the front of the line and pissing off opponents sans regret, heehee, and met Alicia and Jim. It was cathartic for us! We immediately had topics to speak about and a general sense of good feelings - and they say that don't get out much either due to children so how ......shall I say serendipitous?
So much so that we were exchanging contact info within 10 minutes of sitting down!? Someone would be interested in reading my blog? Really? Holy Lord, someone wants to know about us and the people we ultimately are? What?? We are not just the Monster's parents, we are still ourselves and it feels amazing to share this with, essentially, the best of strangers.
We've pinky sworn that this will continue. I will continue with my letters to my children so when they are in therapy they will know exactly where to place the blame, continue with date nights where Bobbie's Dairy Dip is the grand finale, plan my next tattoo. Smile more.
G Dub, you are the neutron to my proton. We are the Helium of the universe.
I feel like I have to reintroduce myself. And I'm resurfacing as a newer, if older, woman. Still greatly depended on, still ADD, still the same ol' me but with intelligible thoughts. :)
A reawakening is going on here and it's long overdue. So looooong. While raising the Little Monsters (so coined by PawPaw and said with devotion) I have forgotten about my marriage and about me. And that's fine. The most important job took my time and I kept hearing this benign statement of "You have to make time for yourself". It is physically impossible for my eyes to roll large enough to show how moronic I think these words are. If you know a mother or a mother that works outside of the home, go hug her. And hug her with genuine gratitude. You should be doing this anyway but if it's been a while do it. Now.
This weekend was a total recapture of psyche. G Dub and I are feeling just a nip of guilt at the level of selfishness going on here but also a defiance that screams " WE JUST WANT TO BE TOGETHER AND DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR RULES!" We didn't care about popular convention anyway but well intended and copious unsolicited advice about family has made us bust out like depraved convicts into our happy zones of yesteryear. We giggle at the pics of us as 25 year old children. Blush at the gushy notes and letters. We've had a lull but grown together again with a greater purpose and sense of responsibility. We feel young and in love not roommates reacting to needs. Ahhhh. No explaining where we have been; just moving forward.
I'm going to go ahead and mention the inspiration for this entry. We spent last night listening to Lucinda Williams and sat with a couple that were just the nicest folks to be with. We were in the media section, having used my skill at getting to the front of the line and pissing off opponents sans regret, heehee, and met Alicia and Jim. It was cathartic for us! We immediately had topics to speak about and a general sense of good feelings - and they say that don't get out much either due to children so how ......shall I say serendipitous?
So much so that we were exchanging contact info within 10 minutes of sitting down!? Someone would be interested in reading my blog? Really? Holy Lord, someone wants to know about us and the people we ultimately are? What?? We are not just the Monster's parents, we are still ourselves and it feels amazing to share this with, essentially, the best of strangers.
We've pinky sworn that this will continue. I will continue with my letters to my children so when they are in therapy they will know exactly where to place the blame, continue with date nights where Bobbie's Dairy Dip is the grand finale, plan my next tattoo. Smile more.
G Dub, you are the neutron to my proton. We are the Helium of the universe.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Whole lotta Shakin' goin' on!
Serenity NOW! That was the battle cry for our 10 anniversary. And for the first time, G Dub pulled off a surprise.
I got a card on my wedding anniversary with a confirmation letter in it. I had a choice whether to open it or not and since I am the gal that wears a new pair of shoes out of the store after purchase I was stunned that I didn't rip it right open. Way back in the Dark Ages when pictures were developed I was also the gal that tore into a newly developed pack of pictures before I made it out the door. I'm just that impatient and cannot wait through morsels of information to get to the finish.
I still didn't open it. Whew, that was tough.
I wanted the element of anticipation. And I wanted to give G Dub the warm and fuzzies that come with pulling off a surprise. It worked and Friday evening we pulled up into Shakertown Village in Kentucky. He kept telling me that we were going to violate my parole by going across state lines ( eye roll). I haven't even come close to breaking the law in 4 years - aside from speeding, of course.
I think he found the quietest location on Earth.
Some comparison stats: The Steele's v. The Average Shakertown Visitor
1. We were the youngest couple lodging there by 25 years. That ain't a joke.
2. The party drug was Cialis. We were not tempted and avoided the pushers.
3. We could walk quickly.
4. We could hear all presentations.
5. We didn't look lost all the time. There were only 10 buildings, come on!?
6. A large tour bus did not drive us there.
7. Instead of being tempted by the Cialis gang, I was more tempted to pick all the produce out of their awesome garden in the middle of the night and make baby food out of it.
All joking aside it was phenomenal. A little back story. G couldn't find a place to go that wasn't hustle and bustle. Big cities are pretty cool but for a day and a half you have to fly there, run to get bags, get transportation, lodge, find a pace to park, transport to entertainment, try to park again, be entertained, get back to lodging, park again, get on the airplane and go home. WoooWee. We do that crap everyday and with little humans attached to us so, no, no crazy big city needed.
Our friend, Rod, had taken G there a few years ago and it made an impression.
Now to talk about the Shakers. I see their point. Maybe not the point that the founder, Ann Lee, was seen as the Second Coming ( although she never claimed it herself) but the redemptive quality of shaking off your sins. That you were not truly cleansed unless you had danced until you had nothing left to give God. Strange as it may have looked I bet it felt good. Like the endorphins after a workout - that feels pretty freeing and now claim that the Spirit moved you and you have a full on religion!
They really did seem like sweet people and man, they could make some cool stuff. I like that they viewed their work as worship. I'm not going to go in tomorrow singing "Peace in the Valley" but it put a nice perspective that I really should do my work to the best of my ability and to appreciate it as a blessing.
All we heard were birds, bugs and some live music Saturday night. Very refreshing, very renewing.
Then BAM! Monday happened and Max has pink eye, Hank is defiant as ever and it's the end of the fiscal year for our lab funds.
Awesome!
I got a card on my wedding anniversary with a confirmation letter in it. I had a choice whether to open it or not and since I am the gal that wears a new pair of shoes out of the store after purchase I was stunned that I didn't rip it right open. Way back in the Dark Ages when pictures were developed I was also the gal that tore into a newly developed pack of pictures before I made it out the door. I'm just that impatient and cannot wait through morsels of information to get to the finish.
I still didn't open it. Whew, that was tough.
I wanted the element of anticipation. And I wanted to give G Dub the warm and fuzzies that come with pulling off a surprise. It worked and Friday evening we pulled up into Shakertown Village in Kentucky. He kept telling me that we were going to violate my parole by going across state lines ( eye roll). I haven't even come close to breaking the law in 4 years - aside from speeding, of course.
I think he found the quietest location on Earth.
Some comparison stats: The Steele's v. The Average Shakertown Visitor
1. We were the youngest couple lodging there by 25 years. That ain't a joke.
2. The party drug was Cialis. We were not tempted and avoided the pushers.
3. We could walk quickly.
4. We could hear all presentations.
5. We didn't look lost all the time. There were only 10 buildings, come on!?
6. A large tour bus did not drive us there.
7. Instead of being tempted by the Cialis gang, I was more tempted to pick all the produce out of their awesome garden in the middle of the night and make baby food out of it.
All joking aside it was phenomenal. A little back story. G couldn't find a place to go that wasn't hustle and bustle. Big cities are pretty cool but for a day and a half you have to fly there, run to get bags, get transportation, lodge, find a pace to park, transport to entertainment, try to park again, be entertained, get back to lodging, park again, get on the airplane and go home. WoooWee. We do that crap everyday and with little humans attached to us so, no, no crazy big city needed.
Our friend, Rod, had taken G there a few years ago and it made an impression.
Now to talk about the Shakers. I see their point. Maybe not the point that the founder, Ann Lee, was seen as the Second Coming ( although she never claimed it herself) but the redemptive quality of shaking off your sins. That you were not truly cleansed unless you had danced until you had nothing left to give God. Strange as it may have looked I bet it felt good. Like the endorphins after a workout - that feels pretty freeing and now claim that the Spirit moved you and you have a full on religion!
They really did seem like sweet people and man, they could make some cool stuff. I like that they viewed their work as worship. I'm not going to go in tomorrow singing "Peace in the Valley" but it put a nice perspective that I really should do my work to the best of my ability and to appreciate it as a blessing.
All we heard were birds, bugs and some live music Saturday night. Very refreshing, very renewing.
Then BAM! Monday happened and Max has pink eye, Hank is defiant as ever and it's the end of the fiscal year for our lab funds.
Awesome!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Forgiveness Patience and Scratching My Eyes Out
:D
What is the indication that it's been too long since I've blogged? I've had to reset my password. My oh my how crazy does it have to be for me to not write. As always, I do most of my writing in my head so technically I've been forming thoughts just not ones for the blogosphere.
I need to continue with my letters to my children but, honestly, there are no words to put in perspective the joy and madness that makes our family unit. Hank is 3 and Max is 8 months. Momma and Dadda feel 80 and have the grey hair to back it up.
Since I last wrote Hank has been potty trained (YEAH!! YEAH YEAH!), has learned the Pledge of Allegiance, knows sign language, started preschool and hates me for it, and can say NO with amazing skill and defiance. Max is 20 pounds of lovin. He's crawling to get away from Hank, got 2 teeth, deftly opening kitchen drawers, sustaining bruises from exploring and making sure the everything is thoroughly tasted.
Momma and Dadda are consistently trying to find more hours in the day, nagging each other about how few hours there are to work with in a day, and kissing as much as possible to not miss the joy of life. It's like you go back to courting sometimes where you derive as much sensuality from a long drawn out kiss as you did before you got all jiggy wid it.
Joy. Now there is something to write about. It comes and goes but I'm control freak enough to want it all the time!
I going to come right out and say that I feel self absorbed right now only because I think in a totally different way than before kids. I don't relate to others in the lighthearted way I used to and now catch myself staying in the realm of doing stuff not in the enjoying stuff. Must work on that because time is passing by and I better see it in all it's glory.
Work. Now that's a topic that gives me more peace then I ever thought I'd get from employment. I go to work to RELAX! I work and deal with semi rational humans. No one is screaming. No one is kicking or if they do it's on the sly because I don't see it. These adults ask me for things too but I can get a certain amount of enjoyment from accomplishing something more than household monotony. And I have boundaries at work to help my poor brain let loose for a few hours. I've noticed that people or things do not get me upset like before kids. I just can't care too much that the copier is out of paper. It's only paper and I deal with keeping youngun's alive...seriously, lets get some perspective here puleez.
Hank is heading full into manhood, so he thinks, and dealing with guiding him to be a civil man is proving to be beyond what G and I thought we were up for. Being nice doesn't work and being corporal doesn't work. Momma is trying hard not to damage his psyche this early but life has to happen. All we can do it shrug our shoulders, be there lovingly when we can and teach as we go. My friend Lee Ann said it best " You don't need patience, you need ENDURANCE!" Oh yes, sista you got that right.
Actually, G and I are struggling. Not with our relationship but seeing the good in our lives. We have everything we could ever want, beautiful healthy kids, jobs, cars but aside from all that we have individual expectations and needs that are not getting met. And that happening over a long period of time is like a time bomb. Someone will explode and a house don't run well with guts all in it.
We've tried calendars, schedules, email alerts, free for all schedules where no one knows what the hell is going on, flying family in to help with kiddos, dates, and still there is not system that seems to work for us. Lots of patience and lots of forgiveness is about all that does work and that's good. That means we are till connected on a level separate from the surface. I get joy from that.
We are so blessed and this time is fleeting. So off I go to enjoy this day and the great people that are in it!
What is the indication that it's been too long since I've blogged? I've had to reset my password. My oh my how crazy does it have to be for me to not write. As always, I do most of my writing in my head so technically I've been forming thoughts just not ones for the blogosphere.
I need to continue with my letters to my children but, honestly, there are no words to put in perspective the joy and madness that makes our family unit. Hank is 3 and Max is 8 months. Momma and Dadda feel 80 and have the grey hair to back it up.
Since I last wrote Hank has been potty trained (YEAH!! YEAH YEAH!), has learned the Pledge of Allegiance, knows sign language, started preschool and hates me for it, and can say NO with amazing skill and defiance. Max is 20 pounds of lovin. He's crawling to get away from Hank, got 2 teeth, deftly opening kitchen drawers, sustaining bruises from exploring and making sure the everything is thoroughly tasted.
Momma and Dadda are consistently trying to find more hours in the day, nagging each other about how few hours there are to work with in a day, and kissing as much as possible to not miss the joy of life. It's like you go back to courting sometimes where you derive as much sensuality from a long drawn out kiss as you did before you got all jiggy wid it.
Joy. Now there is something to write about. It comes and goes but I'm control freak enough to want it all the time!
I going to come right out and say that I feel self absorbed right now only because I think in a totally different way than before kids. I don't relate to others in the lighthearted way I used to and now catch myself staying in the realm of doing stuff not in the enjoying stuff. Must work on that because time is passing by and I better see it in all it's glory.
Work. Now that's a topic that gives me more peace then I ever thought I'd get from employment. I go to work to RELAX! I work and deal with semi rational humans. No one is screaming. No one is kicking or if they do it's on the sly because I don't see it. These adults ask me for things too but I can get a certain amount of enjoyment from accomplishing something more than household monotony. And I have boundaries at work to help my poor brain let loose for a few hours. I've noticed that people or things do not get me upset like before kids. I just can't care too much that the copier is out of paper. It's only paper and I deal with keeping youngun's alive...seriously, lets get some perspective here puleez.
Hank is heading full into manhood, so he thinks, and dealing with guiding him to be a civil man is proving to be beyond what G and I thought we were up for. Being nice doesn't work and being corporal doesn't work. Momma is trying hard not to damage his psyche this early but life has to happen. All we can do it shrug our shoulders, be there lovingly when we can and teach as we go. My friend Lee Ann said it best " You don't need patience, you need ENDURANCE!" Oh yes, sista you got that right.
Actually, G and I are struggling. Not with our relationship but seeing the good in our lives. We have everything we could ever want, beautiful healthy kids, jobs, cars but aside from all that we have individual expectations and needs that are not getting met. And that happening over a long period of time is like a time bomb. Someone will explode and a house don't run well with guts all in it.
We've tried calendars, schedules, email alerts, free for all schedules where no one knows what the hell is going on, flying family in to help with kiddos, dates, and still there is not system that seems to work for us. Lots of patience and lots of forgiveness is about all that does work and that's good. That means we are till connected on a level separate from the surface. I get joy from that.
We are so blessed and this time is fleeting. So off I go to enjoy this day and the great people that are in it!
Monday, February 20, 2012
Multiple Personalities
How can I say this nicely.... TODDLERS ARE INFURIATING!
I kinda feel bad even writing that but I have to just admit and get it out of my system. I shouldn't feel guilty because I feel this way. God knows, I am not the Alpha or Omega on this topic so I'll just join the club.
And please do not get me wrong, I'm am deeply devoted to all the penises in my house. I love these boys but they are such...such...BOYS! UGH! I am greatly outnumbered but will not be outpowered.
This weekend it was cold. Cold enough to keep us inside and although we just added on a substantial amount of square footage to our house, toddler feels the need to be up our hind ends all day. This is annoying. Like a wedgie is annoying. Seriously, he's so mad at me for multiplying again that he pushes me away when I have time to cultivate our relationship and engage with him only to latch on to me and scream for me when I literally have my hands full of infant. Usually it's infant's poop or bath time or something where I need a little more than scant attention and I have to push him away. It's like push pull grab around here!
Hank has a quick switch face like one of those blocks with a happy face on side and a mad face on the other only his is Happy Sugar Face on one side and Linda Blair Exorcist Face. Sugar Face/Exorcist/Sugar Face/Exorcist/Sugar Face/ Exorcist/Sugar Face/Exorcist/Exorcist/Exorcist/Sugar Face.
I never know which will appear but I try to kiss kiss the Sugar face and exorcise the green demon head. Poor guy is just really mad at me or the world or whomever is right next to him. And this is considered normal. Normal to whom??
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO......When will the answer be yes?
And I have kicked myself too through all this personality confusion. I'll miss read signals and get ticked when he's trying to "help". "Help" to a toddler isn't really help at all but it means a lot to him so shame on me for not recognizing it right off. You can see it one their face when it dawns on them that you might have boundaries and they feel genuinely bad for crossing it. Thank god, kids are forgiving little souls. Otherwise, I'm screwed.
G Dub's support has been so on target but if I hear "He's only 2" one more time I'm gonna start justifying all my immature mouth spouts or tantrums with " Well, I'm only 38. Come on"
All we can do it love them through it. So when Happy Sugar Face appears I try to drop what I'm doing and give him my full attention even if it's just for a few minutes. Hank is a robust character that fully lives up to his Taurus birth sign. At night, I feel like I've been run over by a bull so there ya go.
Have I even mentioned Max?? Um, no. That's because he is a dream boat. He's soft and squishy and cuddley. Max just goes with the flow happily smiling and laughing at Hank's antics. Have I taken pics of Max? No. Not near as many as I took of Hank at this age! But, oh my, Max warms me with that little spark I need to get it all together and keep it together.
And that's life over here in Crazyville!
I kinda feel bad even writing that but I have to just admit and get it out of my system. I shouldn't feel guilty because I feel this way. God knows, I am not the Alpha or Omega on this topic so I'll just join the club.
And please do not get me wrong, I'm am deeply devoted to all the penises in my house. I love these boys but they are such...such...BOYS! UGH! I am greatly outnumbered but will not be outpowered.
This weekend it was cold. Cold enough to keep us inside and although we just added on a substantial amount of square footage to our house, toddler feels the need to be up our hind ends all day. This is annoying. Like a wedgie is annoying. Seriously, he's so mad at me for multiplying again that he pushes me away when I have time to cultivate our relationship and engage with him only to latch on to me and scream for me when I literally have my hands full of infant. Usually it's infant's poop or bath time or something where I need a little more than scant attention and I have to push him away. It's like push pull grab around here!
Hank has a quick switch face like one of those blocks with a happy face on side and a mad face on the other only his is Happy Sugar Face on one side and Linda Blair Exorcist Face. Sugar Face/Exorcist/Sugar Face/Exorcist/Sugar Face/ Exorcist/Sugar Face/Exorcist/Exorcist/Exorcist/Sugar Face.
I never know which will appear but I try to kiss kiss the Sugar face and exorcise the green demon head. Poor guy is just really mad at me or the world or whomever is right next to him. And this is considered normal. Normal to whom??
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO......When will the answer be yes?
And I have kicked myself too through all this personality confusion. I'll miss read signals and get ticked when he's trying to "help". "Help" to a toddler isn't really help at all but it means a lot to him so shame on me for not recognizing it right off. You can see it one their face when it dawns on them that you might have boundaries and they feel genuinely bad for crossing it. Thank god, kids are forgiving little souls. Otherwise, I'm screwed.
G Dub's support has been so on target but if I hear "He's only 2" one more time I'm gonna start justifying all my immature mouth spouts or tantrums with " Well, I'm only 38. Come on"
All we can do it love them through it. So when Happy Sugar Face appears I try to drop what I'm doing and give him my full attention even if it's just for a few minutes. Hank is a robust character that fully lives up to his Taurus birth sign. At night, I feel like I've been run over by a bull so there ya go.
Have I even mentioned Max?? Um, no. That's because he is a dream boat. He's soft and squishy and cuddley. Max just goes with the flow happily smiling and laughing at Hank's antics. Have I taken pics of Max? No. Not near as many as I took of Hank at this age! But, oh my, Max warms me with that little spark I need to get it all together and keep it together.
And that's life over here in Crazyville!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
"It's not you, it's me"
Yes, it's been a while and I just can't help it. Oh well.
I have two kids and I won't offer up any apologies for crazy language or outright honesty. " I used to care but now I take a pill for that"
Max's birth was my last effort at a natural birth and it was an epic fail - other than having a beautiful baby boy that holds my heart in his bright little eyes. There were drugs that I could not exercise my right to say no to, there were uncontrollable circumstances that were so stressful that all I could do was pray and lay there hoping for it pass quickly, and nurses that got smart mouthed with a pregnant woman at her birth time. Metaphorically, she pulled back a bloody lip. I haven't come to terms with his birth so I can't write it now, even 4 months out.
BUT, I AM continuing my minds eye picture of myself - post-apocalyptic Mom. Think Mad Max meets June Cleaver. Necessities hanging from carabiners on my purse filled with everything that a demanding kid/boss/husband could want. I walk clanging to the car with only a moments notice to whip out the coveted item before some sort of meltdown occurs. Avoidance is the name of the game here. Avoid the meltdown and it's just easier that way. BTW I have a cool twisty John Wayne in an A line skirt walk too.
Avoidance may be the name of the game but the mental energy that it takes to anticipate any and all demands of kids/boss/husband makes my neurons stretch to their limit. Imagine several overstretched rubber bands breaking and snapping back to the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody. That's why I'm in therapy.
Therapy isn't really the right word for what I'm doing. Well, ok, yes it is. I prefer a more descriptive title like "Work/Life Balance Class". That sounds more like a frivolous night class at a community college rather than the "Jesus H. Christ, I can't take it anymore!" session that is actually happening. But, it is what it is and if I need to change then I need to find the tools to do so. Fast.
"It's not you, it's me". And sometimes it really IS just me. Leave it to me to feel like I have to fix everything to everyone's satisfaction. Productive? No. Unnecessary? Yup. And where the hell does this compulsion come from?? Not only does this impossible task wear me out just trying to find it's source is mind numbing - how did I become a fixer?!
In the meantime, I'm trying to enjoy the moments that are passing me by at warp speed. Hank is growing up and I have little Max who is the embodiment of joy. I've said it numerous times but I really do see how parents tune out noise and I've expanded that to tuning out BS. The only way I can handle life is a jumbo sized filter for frivolous BS which is unnatural for me given my last paragraph. Again, hence the "Balance Class".
An unintended consequence of this it that I've had folks think that I have turned on them. Helping them understand the necessity of this is proving to be difficult when it's family - but it is temporary! Other than the presence of G Dub and my kids ( and can I just say now that having the words kid be plural is still so weird!) I can firmly say that NOTHING is constant anymore. I'll be back just give me some room for crying out loud!
My mind keeps reminding me that I am a person unto myself by thinking of how I want to improve or coming up with new things that I want to do. G Dub reminds me too that I overextend, over-analyze and overdo. But there is just so much cool stuff to do and be part of! This is how I can jump the chasm of lamenting about being overstressed to spearheading efforts to create a program for teen moms at a local ministry.
I waffle back and forth daily....shoot, sometimes hourly! I'm tiring to watch. Or to read :D
I'll get back to writing letters to my boys soon. Hank is still a challenge and having Max just added to the happiness we already had in abundance. He's a happy baby and I'm a happy Momma!
I have two kids and I won't offer up any apologies for crazy language or outright honesty. " I used to care but now I take a pill for that"
Max's birth was my last effort at a natural birth and it was an epic fail - other than having a beautiful baby boy that holds my heart in his bright little eyes. There were drugs that I could not exercise my right to say no to, there were uncontrollable circumstances that were so stressful that all I could do was pray and lay there hoping for it pass quickly, and nurses that got smart mouthed with a pregnant woman at her birth time. Metaphorically, she pulled back a bloody lip. I haven't come to terms with his birth so I can't write it now, even 4 months out.
BUT, I AM continuing my minds eye picture of myself - post-apocalyptic Mom. Think Mad Max meets June Cleaver. Necessities hanging from carabiners on my purse filled with everything that a demanding kid/boss/husband could want. I walk clanging to the car with only a moments notice to whip out the coveted item before some sort of meltdown occurs. Avoidance is the name of the game here. Avoid the meltdown and it's just easier that way. BTW I have a cool twisty John Wayne in an A line skirt walk too.
Avoidance may be the name of the game but the mental energy that it takes to anticipate any and all demands of kids/boss/husband makes my neurons stretch to their limit. Imagine several overstretched rubber bands breaking and snapping back to the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody. That's why I'm in therapy.
Therapy isn't really the right word for what I'm doing. Well, ok, yes it is. I prefer a more descriptive title like "Work/Life Balance Class". That sounds more like a frivolous night class at a community college rather than the "Jesus H. Christ, I can't take it anymore!" session that is actually happening. But, it is what it is and if I need to change then I need to find the tools to do so. Fast.
"It's not you, it's me". And sometimes it really IS just me. Leave it to me to feel like I have to fix everything to everyone's satisfaction. Productive? No. Unnecessary? Yup. And where the hell does this compulsion come from?? Not only does this impossible task wear me out just trying to find it's source is mind numbing - how did I become a fixer?!
In the meantime, I'm trying to enjoy the moments that are passing me by at warp speed. Hank is growing up and I have little Max who is the embodiment of joy. I've said it numerous times but I really do see how parents tune out noise and I've expanded that to tuning out BS. The only way I can handle life is a jumbo sized filter for frivolous BS which is unnatural for me given my last paragraph. Again, hence the "Balance Class".
An unintended consequence of this it that I've had folks think that I have turned on them. Helping them understand the necessity of this is proving to be difficult when it's family - but it is temporary! Other than the presence of G Dub and my kids ( and can I just say now that having the words kid be plural is still so weird!) I can firmly say that NOTHING is constant anymore. I'll be back just give me some room for crying out loud!
My mind keeps reminding me that I am a person unto myself by thinking of how I want to improve or coming up with new things that I want to do. G Dub reminds me too that I overextend, over-analyze and overdo. But there is just so much cool stuff to do and be part of! This is how I can jump the chasm of lamenting about being overstressed to spearheading efforts to create a program for teen moms at a local ministry.
I waffle back and forth daily....shoot, sometimes hourly! I'm tiring to watch. Or to read :D
I'll get back to writing letters to my boys soon. Hank is still a challenge and having Max just added to the happiness we already had in abundance. He's a happy baby and I'm a happy Momma!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Getting bigger and it's hot out
Holy cow, something I never planned on was having children much less having them in the fall. That means a long hot summer. Hotter than the average hell in TN. In this version of hell your thighs rub together, your clothes are consistently sweaty under the dunlaps and you feel about 10 heavier than you are.
Oh so gone this time are the funny stories about gelatinous bellies while shopping and luxuriously lounging around wondering what's growing in there and names and advice books. I'm chasing a toddler and I don't mean that in a figurative way - it's so literal it hurts! I had friends over the other day and instead of a nice visit I ran from room to room saying stuff like "no hands in the toilet", "keep your clothes on please", "yes, those are Mommy's boots clomp clomp clomp" ," Sorry Caillou's gone night night" , " yes, that's toilet paper", " bye bye poop". I mean, really, it was non stop from room to room with an occasional exasperated inquiry if my guests wanted something to drink or if they were doing ok in there.
I wouldn't say their visit was a dismal failure on my part though; she is older than me ( omg, is that possible?!) and is pregnant with her first child. Just call it a peering into the future kind of visit. No sugar coating going on here. Why shouldn't I give an accurate representation of life at a toddler's house? That's just wrong.
Like the 8 limbs of yoga, a pregnant mother of a toddler has to have the capacity of 8 hands worth of multitasking. Hold the 30 pound toddler with all his blankies and cars, and a supply bag, and my bag with phone and essential electronics. Probably a stuffed animal strangling in a side belt loop. Yep, I have reached pack mule status and I envision me doing this up the Grand Canyon but really I'm just climbing the stairs to get into my house. Criminy, it's no wonder I'm thinner this time. Excerise? Who needs THAT crap?
No matter how much smaller I am there is no escaping the heat and the potential for it draining the life right out of a gal. Or stuffing it all in her feet. My God, I had to go get clunky Dansko clogs to accommodate these babies and I don't even care if I look like one of those books where you match the bottom half with the top half and get weird combos. Add dutch clogs to any outfit and it looks bad so who cares at this point. Now make them wooden and that would just complete the freak transformation.
It's time to sleep and tomorrow is another day. At least we'll be inside. Potty training has begun and saying the word potty 251 times an hour is on the agenda. And so are many sopping towels of pee pee. He likes wearing underwear and that may be my ticket to the nut house. Wish me luck but I bet I'll need more than that!
Oh so gone this time are the funny stories about gelatinous bellies while shopping and luxuriously lounging around wondering what's growing in there and names and advice books. I'm chasing a toddler and I don't mean that in a figurative way - it's so literal it hurts! I had friends over the other day and instead of a nice visit I ran from room to room saying stuff like "no hands in the toilet", "keep your clothes on please", "yes, those are Mommy's boots clomp clomp clomp" ," Sorry Caillou's gone night night" , " yes, that's toilet paper", " bye bye poop". I mean, really, it was non stop from room to room with an occasional exasperated inquiry if my guests wanted something to drink or if they were doing ok in there.
I wouldn't say their visit was a dismal failure on my part though; she is older than me ( omg, is that possible?!) and is pregnant with her first child. Just call it a peering into the future kind of visit. No sugar coating going on here. Why shouldn't I give an accurate representation of life at a toddler's house? That's just wrong.
Like the 8 limbs of yoga, a pregnant mother of a toddler has to have the capacity of 8 hands worth of multitasking. Hold the 30 pound toddler with all his blankies and cars, and a supply bag, and my bag with phone and essential electronics. Probably a stuffed animal strangling in a side belt loop. Yep, I have reached pack mule status and I envision me doing this up the Grand Canyon but really I'm just climbing the stairs to get into my house. Criminy, it's no wonder I'm thinner this time. Excerise? Who needs THAT crap?
No matter how much smaller I am there is no escaping the heat and the potential for it draining the life right out of a gal. Or stuffing it all in her feet. My God, I had to go get clunky Dansko clogs to accommodate these babies and I don't even care if I look like one of those books where you match the bottom half with the top half and get weird combos. Add dutch clogs to any outfit and it looks bad so who cares at this point. Now make them wooden and that would just complete the freak transformation.
It's time to sleep and tomorrow is another day. At least we'll be inside. Potty training has begun and saying the word potty 251 times an hour is on the agenda. And so are many sopping towels of pee pee. He likes wearing underwear and that may be my ticket to the nut house. Wish me luck but I bet I'll need more than that!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
I'm sorry but this might sting a little
Discipline.
Not only is it necessary to our kids it's inevitable. But what I'm finding out is that it's more heartbreaking for me than for Hank.
Our war of choice has been biting. It started a year ago and has not let up. I'm not talking nibbles here, I'm talking full on retaliation chomps that hurt and are on purpose because he is being asked to change his course or give up something from his hands. He is a head strong boy on a mission.
Momma is also finding out that she is the main target of these bold chomps. And she has hit the top rung of patience allowed for such acts. Actually, I've been grasping for another rung for a few weeks thinking that surely if I keep reaching another will appear so I can get through this stage without mortally wounding someone. I have to dig deeeeep for patience to keep from lashing out at the one person that I love with all my heart. These wars are, I guess, what makes us a better parent but right now I feel pretty crappy.
I've literally tried everything to no avail. The advice I seem to always hear is to bite back. And most moms have done it. They say it with such calm, self righteous assurance that this was the best way to handle a problem. Like just do it and get it over with. I never wanted to take that route because my logic is that it shows Hank that adults deal with situations the same way a toddler does and it really condones the behavior. And too, it doesn't take much to hurt a child and I cannot forgive myself if anger is what pushes me to what I consider the end of my rope.
Until today.....
My shoulder became a teether for the last time. It was the second time today that I became a target so with the bite marks to prove it I bit. I can tell you here is no satisfaction. There is no feeling of doing something for his own good. There is no calm assurance that I did the right thing. I'm left feeling like surely I could have found a better way. So with us both sobbing I vowed to always try to find that better way even if it means...even if it means....hell, I don't know what that means.
No that I've poured this out i'm crying and laughing at myself for being such a sappy parent. Maybe it will make an impression on him that Momma don't play around. Or now he will start to realize that other people have limits to what they can handle. he may have gotten this because as I sobbed he got real quiet and watched my face. He knew I hurt and he knew it wasn't good. Kids this age are self centered and they are supposed to be but the harsh reality of learning otherwise is also inevitable.
Thankfully, I pray every night for wisdom on how to take care of this young man. I'll get it one day....
Not only is it necessary to our kids it's inevitable. But what I'm finding out is that it's more heartbreaking for me than for Hank.
Our war of choice has been biting. It started a year ago and has not let up. I'm not talking nibbles here, I'm talking full on retaliation chomps that hurt and are on purpose because he is being asked to change his course or give up something from his hands. He is a head strong boy on a mission.
Momma is also finding out that she is the main target of these bold chomps. And she has hit the top rung of patience allowed for such acts. Actually, I've been grasping for another rung for a few weeks thinking that surely if I keep reaching another will appear so I can get through this stage without mortally wounding someone. I have to dig deeeeep for patience to keep from lashing out at the one person that I love with all my heart. These wars are, I guess, what makes us a better parent but right now I feel pretty crappy.
I've literally tried everything to no avail. The advice I seem to always hear is to bite back. And most moms have done it. They say it with such calm, self righteous assurance that this was the best way to handle a problem. Like just do it and get it over with. I never wanted to take that route because my logic is that it shows Hank that adults deal with situations the same way a toddler does and it really condones the behavior. And too, it doesn't take much to hurt a child and I cannot forgive myself if anger is what pushes me to what I consider the end of my rope.
Until today.....
My shoulder became a teether for the last time. It was the second time today that I became a target so with the bite marks to prove it I bit. I can tell you here is no satisfaction. There is no feeling of doing something for his own good. There is no calm assurance that I did the right thing. I'm left feeling like surely I could have found a better way. So with us both sobbing I vowed to always try to find that better way even if it means...even if it means....hell, I don't know what that means.
No that I've poured this out i'm crying and laughing at myself for being such a sappy parent. Maybe it will make an impression on him that Momma don't play around. Or now he will start to realize that other people have limits to what they can handle. he may have gotten this because as I sobbed he got real quiet and watched my face. He knew I hurt and he knew it wasn't good. Kids this age are self centered and they are supposed to be but the harsh reality of learning otherwise is also inevitable.
Thankfully, I pray every night for wisdom on how to take care of this young man. I'll get it one day....
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Life is hard. Wear a helmet.
It's not that I do not have much to inspire me these days it's just that I don't have the brain capacity to sit and think about it like I used to. I'll let it slide that I ended that sentence with a preposition because I really don't care as long as I get to say something that isn't in 3 word sentences or doesn't have anything to do with Caillou. I'll just be wrong.
I have quite a commute and I still listen to Bob Edwards as soon as i drop off Hank at daycare. It's like a link to the outside world. He interviews authors, teachers, political analyzers, comedians. These keep me up to date as opposed to the daily news of war, bad weather and crime. I can't hear about that shit anymore. It hurts my brain with it's slant and contradictory nature.
This is another reason that I still listen to Catholic radio. Not because I'm ever going to be Catholic but it's something to learn about something to care about and my brain smiles. The messages aren't even always positive but the whole message is and that's what fuels me during the day. That positive fuel that can keep a natural born cynic out of the icky depths.
Speaking of depths. Talking on the phone to someone who always has problems or is consistantly negative can keep you there. I've got one of those. I can empathize. I can be compassionate. But then I have to move on because I cannot fix what's wrong and the mental burden weighs heavy if I let it. I can be a listener but the internalization has to be blocked so I don't get bogged down too. My best friend gave her son, now 16, the best advice when he was young and she still uses it. "Life is hard. Wear a helmet." Short. Sweet. To the point. And harsh to some people but it's true. And the truth hurts sometimes. She may not have always made the best decisions but there is some wisdom for ya.
And life isn't always hard. It's mundane. It's elating. And it's a blessing. I'm sitting on my back porch listening to these retarded cicadas breeding everywhere. Today is warm and sunny; just beautiful. I'm pregnant and by myself for 2 whole hours while my boyz get a haircut. I'm surrounded by toys, a sandbox, stranded kid shoes and the little feet imprint in the sand made my Hank this morning as he played. I may get annoyed sometimes but even those kid shoes make me happy when I think of whose feet were in them.
Back to the Bob Edwards show. I know I know (eye roll). I listened to a sweet interview yesterday with George Carlin's girlfriend and it made me think of how wonderfully complex people are inside. He has been on my mind lately because I found it mildly ironic that he does the reading for the Thomas the Tank Engine kids series. HUH? George Carlin? Really? Yeah and Alec Baldwin does too so go figure. He doesn't strike me as the kid loving type given his history. Surely, he doesn't need money...
She painted an honest and unapologetic picture of someone coined as a real indecent ass to some. They never married but were hopelessly in love and he was a sap. A real honest to God teenager love sap! He wrote to her everyday and they talked into the night for years about everything - they were so connected and he never stopped courting her. That's what people wish for and here is a man known for tirades giving it so whole heartedly to her. What made her interview amazing was how described his comedy act - he didn't necessarily believe in his heart all the he spouted off but he was a performer and a show off just laying it out there for people to think about. Those words were what came to him but they were not his inner core beliefs. I found that fascinating because this applies to all of us. We are many people inside rising to the occasion of what is going on around us at the time. We need that. It's who we are as a species and is that 1% genetic separation between us and apes.
Uh oh, I just heard a car door close. The hurricane is home so I need to run an batten down the hatches!
I have quite a commute and I still listen to Bob Edwards as soon as i drop off Hank at daycare. It's like a link to the outside world. He interviews authors, teachers, political analyzers, comedians. These keep me up to date as opposed to the daily news of war, bad weather and crime. I can't hear about that shit anymore. It hurts my brain with it's slant and contradictory nature.
This is another reason that I still listen to Catholic radio. Not because I'm ever going to be Catholic but it's something to learn about something to care about and my brain smiles. The messages aren't even always positive but the whole message is and that's what fuels me during the day. That positive fuel that can keep a natural born cynic out of the icky depths.
Speaking of depths. Talking on the phone to someone who always has problems or is consistantly negative can keep you there. I've got one of those. I can empathize. I can be compassionate. But then I have to move on because I cannot fix what's wrong and the mental burden weighs heavy if I let it. I can be a listener but the internalization has to be blocked so I don't get bogged down too. My best friend gave her son, now 16, the best advice when he was young and she still uses it. "Life is hard. Wear a helmet." Short. Sweet. To the point. And harsh to some people but it's true. And the truth hurts sometimes. She may not have always made the best decisions but there is some wisdom for ya.
And life isn't always hard. It's mundane. It's elating. And it's a blessing. I'm sitting on my back porch listening to these retarded cicadas breeding everywhere. Today is warm and sunny; just beautiful. I'm pregnant and by myself for 2 whole hours while my boyz get a haircut. I'm surrounded by toys, a sandbox, stranded kid shoes and the little feet imprint in the sand made my Hank this morning as he played. I may get annoyed sometimes but even those kid shoes make me happy when I think of whose feet were in them.
Back to the Bob Edwards show. I know I know (eye roll). I listened to a sweet interview yesterday with George Carlin's girlfriend and it made me think of how wonderfully complex people are inside. He has been on my mind lately because I found it mildly ironic that he does the reading for the Thomas the Tank Engine kids series. HUH? George Carlin? Really? Yeah and Alec Baldwin does too so go figure. He doesn't strike me as the kid loving type given his history. Surely, he doesn't need money...
She painted an honest and unapologetic picture of someone coined as a real indecent ass to some. They never married but were hopelessly in love and he was a sap. A real honest to God teenager love sap! He wrote to her everyday and they talked into the night for years about everything - they were so connected and he never stopped courting her. That's what people wish for and here is a man known for tirades giving it so whole heartedly to her. What made her interview amazing was how described his comedy act - he didn't necessarily believe in his heart all the he spouted off but he was a performer and a show off just laying it out there for people to think about. Those words were what came to him but they were not his inner core beliefs. I found that fascinating because this applies to all of us. We are many people inside rising to the occasion of what is going on around us at the time. We need that. It's who we are as a species and is that 1% genetic separation between us and apes.
Uh oh, I just heard a car door close. The hurricane is home so I need to run an batten down the hatches!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Letter to Hank # 14- It's always something!
And it's something new everyday! I've talked exhausively about how fast time with you goes and it's wonderful. Even on the most challenging days, like right now!, you make me smile with your cheeky little face and long eye lashes. I can't write everything down that just cracks me up but here are a few examples of how your personality shines bright on rainy days:
The cicadas are out and you love carrying them saying "bu bu" since you haven't quite gotten the letter G yet. When they make a noise you yell " bu bite!". Even our dog when it gets a little annoyed with you and growls you say " dog bite boy!" and come running to me like i will protect you from the old fart of a dog and wouldn't hurt anyone
Another example of your language is my mom tried to get you to call her Grammie. You called her Mammie and put a stop to any preference training.
You have a cheeky walk when you are all full of yourself- you move your elbows very emphatically like "Here I come so look out"
Anything that hurts is a boo boo and fixable with booboo tape (scotch tape)
You refer to yourself as Baby or boy. Babies are also blankies or bugs. You tell them Bye when you walk past.
Any water is a bath and Mommy has the laundry to prove it
You spot bird poop and point it out to me
When you are bright and refreshed you make me bright and refreshed
Hank, you have joy in your eyes
You have no idea that you will have some serious competiton in 4 months. You point to my belly but don't really know...
You gave your first kiss to a neighbor girl and dang if it didn't look like something off the Young and the Restless!
Collectively, your daddy and I have been on this earth for nearly 80 years. You've been here for 2 and wear us out! A really hard part of all this is not having a lot of family in town. I have to be honest and say that the ones that are here see you about as often as Grammie from Raleigh. While that's sad what do you do? I'm not going to beg, they can make their own decisions, so I buck up to the fact that nights off are rare and you goes everywhere with me/us. Oh well, what do you do? You have cool babysitters! MIss Amber will be going away to college and while we celebrate her graduation it's still hard to see her go.
She loves you and we love her!
You are having a rough night tonight. Night night is not coming easy for whatever reason. But you'll get there eventually and be at peace. And so will I. Eventually.
The cicadas are out and you love carrying them saying "bu bu" since you haven't quite gotten the letter G yet. When they make a noise you yell " bu bite!". Even our dog when it gets a little annoyed with you and growls you say " dog bite boy!" and come running to me like i will protect you from the old fart of a dog and wouldn't hurt anyone
Another example of your language is my mom tried to get you to call her Grammie. You called her Mammie and put a stop to any preference training.
You have a cheeky walk when you are all full of yourself- you move your elbows very emphatically like "Here I come so look out"
Anything that hurts is a boo boo and fixable with booboo tape (scotch tape)
You refer to yourself as Baby or boy. Babies are also blankies or bugs. You tell them Bye when you walk past.
Any water is a bath and Mommy has the laundry to prove it
You spot bird poop and point it out to me
When you are bright and refreshed you make me bright and refreshed
Hank, you have joy in your eyes
You have no idea that you will have some serious competiton in 4 months. You point to my belly but don't really know...
You gave your first kiss to a neighbor girl and dang if it didn't look like something off the Young and the Restless!
Collectively, your daddy and I have been on this earth for nearly 80 years. You've been here for 2 and wear us out! A really hard part of all this is not having a lot of family in town. I have to be honest and say that the ones that are here see you about as often as Grammie from Raleigh. While that's sad what do you do? I'm not going to beg, they can make their own decisions, so I buck up to the fact that nights off are rare and you goes everywhere with me/us. Oh well, what do you do? You have cool babysitters! MIss Amber will be going away to college and while we celebrate her graduation it's still hard to see her go.
She loves you and we love her!
You are having a rough night tonight. Night night is not coming easy for whatever reason. But you'll get there eventually and be at peace. And so will I. Eventually.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Drag Racing Through TIme
It's pretty obvious that I have most of my life tied up in songs. Yeah, I know I say it a lot. But sound is powerful just like smells can bring on memories, a light touch can trigger them, and don't mention seeing someone that can just bring it all back. It's a surreal moment when suddenly you are 22 with nothing really to lose.
Now that I'm sitting here writing I can't remember what inspired this. I can write the best blogs and silly songs in my head while I'm driving. If I don't immediately scribble it down all this pseudo profundity is gone and is irrecoverable.
I think I was pondering the younger generation after a rare afternoon out shopping sans Hank. Well, when I say shopping I mean going to Kroger and zoning out in the magazine aisle or in the seasonal dept. Just looking at all the stuff puts me in neural overdrive. But this time I was thinking about youngin's and it dawned on me that a kid born in 1980 was 30 YEARS OLD!
Then the images start of being in the early 80's and what my life revolved around then.
The first image is me diligently sitting in front of my one speaker tape recorder playing Casey Kasem's American Top 40 taping songs since I couldn't afford to feed my addiction - every Sunday I did this. And every Sunday it was a new tape because invariably I either could not stop the tape in time and got way too much of a song someone old like my mom liked by Joe Jackson or I missed the intro to Rock of Ages. God Forbid! Every song had the familiar squeal of the stop and start of the previous and following song. But I dealt with it to get the meat of the madness no matter where it fell on the countdown. It was actually exciting to hear the number 1 song in America! I waited for it and waited passionately. We talked about it at school even - that's big news when you're 10.
I'll never ever forget, as long as I live, visiting my Great Grandma in Missouri. I only came in to town once a year so she gave me a gift or something while I was there. She gave me $10. $10 in 1983. That was a lot to her too. OMG she had no idea that she gave me the mother lode!! The front door went whooshing open as I sped out dying to get to the car waving my new bill. I thought I would be sick if my Grandma, her daughter, didn't drive me to the nearest Record Bar (yeah, remember that?!) so I could buy Duran Duran's Rio. Her response was " Don't you want to save that for another time" and I swear I was going to throw up if I did not have that album in my hands in 15 minutes. I begged, I admit it. Little did she know that I would still have that album at 37 and always know that G Grandma Hastings helped me buy it. It was an investment of sorts.
When I got see Prince's Purple Rain Tour as my first concert I was just a tiny bit cooler than the lower than average cool kids that I hung out with. I laugh at myself now because I sang over and over and over "masturbating with a magazine" and had no idea on this planet what the hell I was saying! Parental Control ANYWHERE?? I wouldn't have mattered, I'd have gotten it anyway and sang my naive little heart out.
I miss the record stores. Record Bar, Camelot Music, Cats Records, Tower. Out with the old and in the new. No wonder the RIAA is trying to find a way to charge royalties for bands playing covers in bars. Good luck with that.
Now that I'm sitting here writing I can't remember what inspired this. I can write the best blogs and silly songs in my head while I'm driving. If I don't immediately scribble it down all this pseudo profundity is gone and is irrecoverable.
I think I was pondering the younger generation after a rare afternoon out shopping sans Hank. Well, when I say shopping I mean going to Kroger and zoning out in the magazine aisle or in the seasonal dept. Just looking at all the stuff puts me in neural overdrive. But this time I was thinking about youngin's and it dawned on me that a kid born in 1980 was 30 YEARS OLD!
Then the images start of being in the early 80's and what my life revolved around then.
The first image is me diligently sitting in front of my one speaker tape recorder playing Casey Kasem's American Top 40 taping songs since I couldn't afford to feed my addiction - every Sunday I did this. And every Sunday it was a new tape because invariably I either could not stop the tape in time and got way too much of a song someone old like my mom liked by Joe Jackson or I missed the intro to Rock of Ages. God Forbid! Every song had the familiar squeal of the stop and start of the previous and following song. But I dealt with it to get the meat of the madness no matter where it fell on the countdown. It was actually exciting to hear the number 1 song in America! I waited for it and waited passionately. We talked about it at school even - that's big news when you're 10.
I'll never ever forget, as long as I live, visiting my Great Grandma in Missouri. I only came in to town once a year so she gave me a gift or something while I was there. She gave me $10. $10 in 1983. That was a lot to her too. OMG she had no idea that she gave me the mother lode!! The front door went whooshing open as I sped out dying to get to the car waving my new bill. I thought I would be sick if my Grandma, her daughter, didn't drive me to the nearest Record Bar (yeah, remember that?!) so I could buy Duran Duran's Rio. Her response was " Don't you want to save that for another time" and I swear I was going to throw up if I did not have that album in my hands in 15 minutes. I begged, I admit it. Little did she know that I would still have that album at 37 and always know that G Grandma Hastings helped me buy it. It was an investment of sorts.
When I got see Prince's Purple Rain Tour as my first concert I was just a tiny bit cooler than the lower than average cool kids that I hung out with. I laugh at myself now because I sang over and over and over "masturbating with a magazine" and had no idea on this planet what the hell I was saying! Parental Control ANYWHERE?? I wouldn't have mattered, I'd have gotten it anyway and sang my naive little heart out.
I miss the record stores. Record Bar, Camelot Music, Cats Records, Tower. Out with the old and in the new. No wonder the RIAA is trying to find a way to charge royalties for bands playing covers in bars. Good luck with that.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
RIP Gerry
Music is poetry, after all. I like to think that singers are troubadours - not that the literal meaning is necessarily true but it sounds more thoughtful than just calling someone a singer. That sounds so generic. Especially when lyrics are deep, meaningful or down right anguish producing.
The music world lost a troubadour this week. Gerry Rafferty. I was 4 when his mega hit album came out but his songs are actually etched in my mind. How could they not be - Baker Street has been on the radio ever since I can remember and everyone knows it, just by the sax riff. But could anyone name who sings it? Probably not. Does anyone mention the rest of the album? No. That's what's sad. The rest of the songs are amazing and I never play Baker Street. There's no need to.
And cover art. Wow, how I miss real cover art. City to City is quintessential for the time period. I seriously think I'll devote a room in my house to framed album cover art. Yes, Pink Floyd, Queen, Grateful Dead, The Doors - I've got them and as beat up as some of them are the deep appreciation and memories tied up in just seeing them makes my heart all warm and fuzzy.
Going back to the poetry aspect of music. It's hard to take the timing out if you've heard it sung but reading it gives a new perspective. Here are the lyrics to my favorite Gerry Rafferty song. I put it on repeat often.
Wakin’ up here on a rainy day
I swore last time that I would stay away
I came down here to talk to you
I said this time I might get through.
I heard us speak but all the words were dead
We talked all night and left it all unsaid
So we agree to disagree
At least we got our memory.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah)
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
Yeah, night and day, night and day.
You’ve got your secrets yeah and I’ve got mine
We’ve played this game now for a long long time
You don’t lean on anyone
You never had no place to run.
You never wanted me to get too close
We love and hate the ones we need the most
I tried to find a way to you
One thing I could say to you.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah)
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
Yeah, night and day, night and day.
Maybe I’ve always set my sights too high
You take the easy way and still get by
I know there ain’t no special way
We all get there anyway.
I heard us speak but all the words were dead
Talked all night and left it all unsaid
So we agree to disagree
At least we got our memory.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah)
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
Yeah, night and day, night and day.
While he lived in obscurity I hope he knew in his heart that there are people that listened to more than what is on the radio. He had so much more to say and I hope he didn't leave anything unsaid.
The music world lost a troubadour this week. Gerry Rafferty. I was 4 when his mega hit album came out but his songs are actually etched in my mind. How could they not be - Baker Street has been on the radio ever since I can remember and everyone knows it, just by the sax riff. But could anyone name who sings it? Probably not. Does anyone mention the rest of the album? No. That's what's sad. The rest of the songs are amazing and I never play Baker Street. There's no need to.
And cover art. Wow, how I miss real cover art. City to City is quintessential for the time period. I seriously think I'll devote a room in my house to framed album cover art. Yes, Pink Floyd, Queen, Grateful Dead, The Doors - I've got them and as beat up as some of them are the deep appreciation and memories tied up in just seeing them makes my heart all warm and fuzzy.
Going back to the poetry aspect of music. It's hard to take the timing out if you've heard it sung but reading it gives a new perspective. Here are the lyrics to my favorite Gerry Rafferty song. I put it on repeat often.
Wakin’ up here on a rainy day
I swore last time that I would stay away
I came down here to talk to you
I said this time I might get through.
I heard us speak but all the words were dead
We talked all night and left it all unsaid
So we agree to disagree
At least we got our memory.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah)
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
Yeah, night and day, night and day.
You’ve got your secrets yeah and I’ve got mine
We’ve played this game now for a long long time
You don’t lean on anyone
You never had no place to run.
You never wanted me to get too close
We love and hate the ones we need the most
I tried to find a way to you
One thing I could say to you.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah)
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
Yeah, night and day, night and day.
Maybe I’ve always set my sights too high
You take the easy way and still get by
I know there ain’t no special way
We all get there anyway.
I heard us speak but all the words were dead
Talked all night and left it all unsaid
So we agree to disagree
At least we got our memory.
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
You’ll find a way to say it all someday (yeah)
Whatever’s written in your heart, that’s all that matters
Yeah, night and day, night and day.
While he lived in obscurity I hope he knew in his heart that there are people that listened to more than what is on the radio. He had so much more to say and I hope he didn't leave anything unsaid.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Letter to Hank #13 - A Season of Rediscovery
Hankey Spankey you are 19 months old and in a phase that can only be called...creative!
It's Christmas and while you freaked out at Santa we got through it. I found this to be hilarious and would gladly pay for therapy later if I could have plopped you down on that lap to hear you scream again! Priceless photo op.
You got so many gifts that you continuously run from each one to another all day till you just fall over tired and I haven't even given them all to you. Our garage still has unopened boxes, not out of disrespect for the giver but out of pure Christmas saturation, that will be opened periodically throughout the winter to maintain a level of sanity to a cooped up toddler.
I try to focus not on the gifts that keep multiplying with each family visit but on the small wonderful things you are doing, saying or seeing for the first time. This is a big time for you and I can see it in your eyes. As you discover your world I am rediscovering my world. I want to show you everything but, as adults do, I have become jaded to what's around me. Sights that have become mundane and tired are seen now as sights of wonder and opportunity. Like looking at the moon. Look outside and wonder at the heavens. Or a fun ball. Bounce a ball and celebrate gravity and inertia. Listen to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon and just try to pretend it's the first time you've heard such genius.
The combinations of what you put on make me laugh a free kind of laugh that I hardly get to practice. You'll have one of my tennis shoes on ( just one), a big yellow hat from Cancun, a tote bag from Toys'R Us and a Kiss T-shirt toddling around the house like you're really going somewhere! Really you are tripping over that too big of a shoe you have on. It's like you are a bag man just gathering up things as you see them and sticking them on your person. Gawd, it's funny!
Hank, you do not have the baggage of life. Every single movement or instinct is pure, unguarded, bright and full of possibility. I'm not a strict parent when it comes to seeing the potential in what you are doing. I don't wipe off your finger smears on the mirrors because you are feeling the smooth surface. I can't clean the windows of your hands that have made designs in the frost because you are finding out about cold. The jelly smears on my shirt are a testament to your curiosity about cleanliness and the lack of it. I let you splash in the bath till I'm practically swimming in the floor. I want you to feel like you can always try something out and we'll clean up the mess later.
The gravity of that last sentence is recognized and I hope we can make that our family motto as there will be times that we need it.
As I type, I see a little blue bird in the tree outside the window with your smears and I see both as a sign of beauty. When you held out your hand to feel the snow and smiled, I smiled with you simply due to the reminder that our world is glorious. Even if I complain about the cold I won't tell you that so you can make up your own mind about it. Some people like it and that's just crazy but people are free to judge for themselves.
As I wrote in my very first letter to you, I think, you are teaching me so much more than you will ever consciencely know. I have the privilege of rediscovery as you become acquainted with what is around you. I get to exercise my parental responsibility and show you, as you are ready, what the world has in store for you and hopefully prepare you for what you have to find out on your own. It's both the most exciting thing I've ever done and by far the more terrifying.
It's Christmas and while you freaked out at Santa we got through it. I found this to be hilarious and would gladly pay for therapy later if I could have plopped you down on that lap to hear you scream again! Priceless photo op.
You got so many gifts that you continuously run from each one to another all day till you just fall over tired and I haven't even given them all to you. Our garage still has unopened boxes, not out of disrespect for the giver but out of pure Christmas saturation, that will be opened periodically throughout the winter to maintain a level of sanity to a cooped up toddler.
I try to focus not on the gifts that keep multiplying with each family visit but on the small wonderful things you are doing, saying or seeing for the first time. This is a big time for you and I can see it in your eyes. As you discover your world I am rediscovering my world. I want to show you everything but, as adults do, I have become jaded to what's around me. Sights that have become mundane and tired are seen now as sights of wonder and opportunity. Like looking at the moon. Look outside and wonder at the heavens. Or a fun ball. Bounce a ball and celebrate gravity and inertia. Listen to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon and just try to pretend it's the first time you've heard such genius.
The combinations of what you put on make me laugh a free kind of laugh that I hardly get to practice. You'll have one of my tennis shoes on ( just one), a big yellow hat from Cancun, a tote bag from Toys'R Us and a Kiss T-shirt toddling around the house like you're really going somewhere! Really you are tripping over that too big of a shoe you have on. It's like you are a bag man just gathering up things as you see them and sticking them on your person. Gawd, it's funny!
Hank, you do not have the baggage of life. Every single movement or instinct is pure, unguarded, bright and full of possibility. I'm not a strict parent when it comes to seeing the potential in what you are doing. I don't wipe off your finger smears on the mirrors because you are feeling the smooth surface. I can't clean the windows of your hands that have made designs in the frost because you are finding out about cold. The jelly smears on my shirt are a testament to your curiosity about cleanliness and the lack of it. I let you splash in the bath till I'm practically swimming in the floor. I want you to feel like you can always try something out and we'll clean up the mess later.
The gravity of that last sentence is recognized and I hope we can make that our family motto as there will be times that we need it.
As I type, I see a little blue bird in the tree outside the window with your smears and I see both as a sign of beauty. When you held out your hand to feel the snow and smiled, I smiled with you simply due to the reminder that our world is glorious. Even if I complain about the cold I won't tell you that so you can make up your own mind about it. Some people like it and that's just crazy but people are free to judge for themselves.
As I wrote in my very first letter to you, I think, you are teaching me so much more than you will ever consciencely know. I have the privilege of rediscovery as you become acquainted with what is around you. I get to exercise my parental responsibility and show you, as you are ready, what the world has in store for you and hopefully prepare you for what you have to find out on your own. It's both the most exciting thing I've ever done and by far the more terrifying.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Those Funny Catholics
I have a pretty good bit of mileage to get Hank to daycare and get myself to work so I’m either blathering on the phone or listening to XM talk radio. I can’t believe I like talk radio but with a condition – no call in shows. People that call in usually say the exact statement the host just said in a long winded, round about, too many uhh’s kind of way. Wastes my time because they never get to a point.
I’ve found some channels that really get my imagination stirred up, like I needed that anyway. I’ve wrote before that Hank will know who Bob Edwards is before he can talk and now I’ve got another personality that will give his subconscious something to gnaw on – Lino Rulli from the Catholic Channel!
I heard about this through an ad on another channel I listen to. This channel is serious then it’s serious fun. Sometimes I’ll catch the Saint of the Day, which tells me about one of the seemingly 1000’s of saints. It’s Christmas so there is a lot of information about Advent, which I knew nothing about and wondered what an Advent calendar was other then a sweet way to count down to the 25th. I get in my car and there are these shows that are like Bob and Tom morning shows but with Catholics all yukking it up talking about funny everyday Catholic things. And they are really pretty funny. The jokes can be funny in a literal sense but what really makes it a hoot is the imagery invoked by the snarky comments. Or even the serious ones.
My best example of this came up the other day. Lino Rulli, “The Catholic Guy” or I’ve heard him a called Lino UN-Rulli, was having a spelling bee between someone that called in and some Father David. I’m assuming the Father guy would blow anyone out of the water since all the words were Catholic related but he didn’t and they were cracking up! Spell sepulcher. Spell Pope John Paul’s original last name – Wojtyla – he got that one. Spell the little hat with a ball on top that clergy wear – biretta. Spell Ecclesiastes. Thessalonica. Ok ok that’s all fine and good but when the call in person won they won a prize. Like Wink Martindale Lino shouts out that they have won a prayer card blessed by the Pope! THAT’s what made me crack up! How much of the day does the Pope set aside to bless things that are sold in the thousands of Catholic related stores around the world? I can see him with stacks of cards blessing them like so many tiny little sneezes. I know it’s important to them as the caller was really excited to get it but I thought it was funny imagining the Pope waving his hands over stuff or whatever he does.
The Busted Halo is another show. The opening line goes something like “We can’t live a perfect life, but at least we try” This one sounded like a really clean Howard Stern show- I feel it’s sacrilegious to even compare the two but there you go. It’s just that it was annoying hearing everyone talking and laughing at the same time. I guess they get to a good topic at some point.
There is the Catholics Next Door show. Of course, they have a slew of kids and they talk about all the trials that go along with that and familial blessings.
So there seems to be something for every good Catholic and it’s got me thinking and researching. I like that.
I’ve found some channels that really get my imagination stirred up, like I needed that anyway. I’ve wrote before that Hank will know who Bob Edwards is before he can talk and now I’ve got another personality that will give his subconscious something to gnaw on – Lino Rulli from the Catholic Channel!
I heard about this through an ad on another channel I listen to. This channel is serious then it’s serious fun. Sometimes I’ll catch the Saint of the Day, which tells me about one of the seemingly 1000’s of saints. It’s Christmas so there is a lot of information about Advent, which I knew nothing about and wondered what an Advent calendar was other then a sweet way to count down to the 25th. I get in my car and there are these shows that are like Bob and Tom morning shows but with Catholics all yukking it up talking about funny everyday Catholic things. And they are really pretty funny. The jokes can be funny in a literal sense but what really makes it a hoot is the imagery invoked by the snarky comments. Or even the serious ones.
My best example of this came up the other day. Lino Rulli, “The Catholic Guy” or I’ve heard him a called Lino UN-Rulli, was having a spelling bee between someone that called in and some Father David. I’m assuming the Father guy would blow anyone out of the water since all the words were Catholic related but he didn’t and they were cracking up! Spell sepulcher. Spell Pope John Paul’s original last name – Wojtyla – he got that one. Spell the little hat with a ball on top that clergy wear – biretta. Spell Ecclesiastes. Thessalonica. Ok ok that’s all fine and good but when the call in person won they won a prize. Like Wink Martindale Lino shouts out that they have won a prayer card blessed by the Pope! THAT’s what made me crack up! How much of the day does the Pope set aside to bless things that are sold in the thousands of Catholic related stores around the world? I can see him with stacks of cards blessing them like so many tiny little sneezes. I know it’s important to them as the caller was really excited to get it but I thought it was funny imagining the Pope waving his hands over stuff or whatever he does.
The Busted Halo is another show. The opening line goes something like “We can’t live a perfect life, but at least we try” This one sounded like a really clean Howard Stern show- I feel it’s sacrilegious to even compare the two but there you go. It’s just that it was annoying hearing everyone talking and laughing at the same time. I guess they get to a good topic at some point.
There is the Catholics Next Door show. Of course, they have a slew of kids and they talk about all the trials that go along with that and familial blessings.
So there seems to be something for every good Catholic and it’s got me thinking and researching. I like that.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Fake Hair Fixes a Multitude of Sins
Women talk about the changes in their bodies after they have their first baby - some have bigger feet, some have jelly belly, big veins, hemorrhoids you name it. It all happens and we make peace with it because we have to. That's fine and all unless....
it's your hair.
My perspective is that changes in your hair are different because of what you can do with it that you can't do with more permanent body parts. Look at what women put their poor hair through and can you even believe that we have any left?!
My hair makes me just...UGH! In the morning, I feel like a teenager gawky and insecure. The curls that I've tamed since middle school are gone so now what?
BUT
I shuffled into Sally's Beauty Supply. Sally's and I have an ancient, tumultuous relationship. Sally's sold the dye that gave me fuchsia pink hair at my college graduation. Sally's also sold the cuticle stripping concoction that finally got it out. Nail stuff, cholesterol conditioners and some hair thingy with placenta, exactly who's I'd like to know, in it welcome me with the stench of a salon. Breathe in....ahhhhhh.
I was looking for something to do with my disrespectful mane. I looked at curlers, straighteners. No, no, no these won't do as I rarely "do" my hair. That's why I loved my curls! I kept walking until and a big blond Paris Hilton was looking back at me. I wasn't hypnotized by the celeb face but by the sales woman reaching for the package with a plastic Hilton pseudo-sexy glare on it. She said I'd look good in it - so silky for synthetic hair. OMG Paris Hilton is hocking fake hair!
Yes, I put it on my head. Yes, I looked ridiculous. Did I leave the store wishing I could shave my head? Yes. For one thing, I'm not buying anything with Hilton's face on it with a slogan on it like "That's hot". No I wasn't hot and I knew it but thanks. And shame on that seemingly helpful saleswoman for spreading a fake sense of beauty salvation! Can't blame a girl for trying.
it's your hair.
My perspective is that changes in your hair are different because of what you can do with it that you can't do with more permanent body parts. Look at what women put their poor hair through and can you even believe that we have any left?!
My hair makes me just...UGH! In the morning, I feel like a teenager gawky and insecure. The curls that I've tamed since middle school are gone so now what?
BUT
I shuffled into Sally's Beauty Supply. Sally's and I have an ancient, tumultuous relationship. Sally's sold the dye that gave me fuchsia pink hair at my college graduation. Sally's also sold the cuticle stripping concoction that finally got it out. Nail stuff, cholesterol conditioners and some hair thingy with placenta, exactly who's I'd like to know, in it welcome me with the stench of a salon. Breathe in....ahhhhhh.
I was looking for something to do with my disrespectful mane. I looked at curlers, straighteners. No, no, no these won't do as I rarely "do" my hair. That's why I loved my curls! I kept walking until and a big blond Paris Hilton was looking back at me. I wasn't hypnotized by the celeb face but by the sales woman reaching for the package with a plastic Hilton pseudo-sexy glare on it. She said I'd look good in it - so silky for synthetic hair. OMG Paris Hilton is hocking fake hair!
Yes, I put it on my head. Yes, I looked ridiculous. Did I leave the store wishing I could shave my head? Yes. For one thing, I'm not buying anything with Hilton's face on it with a slogan on it like "That's hot". No I wasn't hot and I knew it but thanks. And shame on that seemingly helpful saleswoman for spreading a fake sense of beauty salvation! Can't blame a girl for trying.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Letter to Hank #12 - A Mess Inside and Out
You are a mess. And you make some incredible messes too! Good for you honey because I wanted a boy so that I was socially off the hook when it came to keeping you clean. Boys get dirty just like they're inherent nature intends for them to and I love it!
Hank, you are becoming very creative; both in how you figure out the world and how you react to it. The verbal protests are very predictable and music to my ears although you don't say a lot of real words yet. I hear a lot of Gaggle Aggle Aggle and Dah Dah Dah. Dah is dog and you are obsessed with them. Seeing them, touching them or just pointing them out. Every animal is a DAH! We read books about them, play with the one next door and overall just think they are the bomb!
You are figuring out the world one time out at a time. Holy cow, I didn't think that I'd be doing time outs so soon, but child 'o mine, you need them. I quickly found out that corporal punishment means nothing to you. You have a very high pain tolerance and will take the hit if it means ultimately getting to do what you wanted. I've got your number. Not that I have inflicted pain on you by any means; I did try to just flick your lip when you bit and say no so that you knew exactly what action I was disapproving- you didn't care. In fact, you hung on like a dog and bit harder! Momma finally figured out that you are a social boy and being taken out of the action for even 1 minute was just HORRIBLE! Just horrible! So thus began the time out phase of our relationship. You'll love me for it someday.
Everything is a phone. You wear my shoes around the house. You swiffer the floor. You press every single button looking for a reaction. And mine too.
Your laugh makes my day! A sense of humor is not lost on you - what you find funny usually makes kids cringe. Like getting sprayed with the garden hose. You just cracked up! Going down a slide that was clearly too big for you, smacking the back of your head on the way down and belly laughing at the end. I have the best pictures of the anticipatory sit at the top, the "oh crap" look in the middle and the "I conquered" grin in the landing mulch. Hank, I laugh every day at you, for you and with you. This is the fun side.
Stairs are still a bane to your walking experience. We've taught you to go down on your belly and even at smallest step requires that your turn around and scootch till your little foot can feel pavement - when you do this for cracks in the pavement I can't help but giggle. Even today you bent down to get on your belly a good 12 inches before the step even started! God help the knees of your pants, son.
You motto is now "I'm busy." Independence. Clearly you can't be bothered with a stinky butt and the 30 seconds I take to clean it.
Hank you really are the cutest thing as you struggle to be big. 18 months going on 30.
Hank, you are becoming very creative; both in how you figure out the world and how you react to it. The verbal protests are very predictable and music to my ears although you don't say a lot of real words yet. I hear a lot of Gaggle Aggle Aggle and Dah Dah Dah. Dah is dog and you are obsessed with them. Seeing them, touching them or just pointing them out. Every animal is a DAH! We read books about them, play with the one next door and overall just think they are the bomb!
You are figuring out the world one time out at a time. Holy cow, I didn't think that I'd be doing time outs so soon, but child 'o mine, you need them. I quickly found out that corporal punishment means nothing to you. You have a very high pain tolerance and will take the hit if it means ultimately getting to do what you wanted. I've got your number. Not that I have inflicted pain on you by any means; I did try to just flick your lip when you bit and say no so that you knew exactly what action I was disapproving- you didn't care. In fact, you hung on like a dog and bit harder! Momma finally figured out that you are a social boy and being taken out of the action for even 1 minute was just HORRIBLE! Just horrible! So thus began the time out phase of our relationship. You'll love me for it someday.
Everything is a phone. You wear my shoes around the house. You swiffer the floor. You press every single button looking for a reaction. And mine too.
Your laugh makes my day! A sense of humor is not lost on you - what you find funny usually makes kids cringe. Like getting sprayed with the garden hose. You just cracked up! Going down a slide that was clearly too big for you, smacking the back of your head on the way down and belly laughing at the end. I have the best pictures of the anticipatory sit at the top, the "oh crap" look in the middle and the "I conquered" grin in the landing mulch. Hank, I laugh every day at you, for you and with you. This is the fun side.
Stairs are still a bane to your walking experience. We've taught you to go down on your belly and even at smallest step requires that your turn around and scootch till your little foot can feel pavement - when you do this for cracks in the pavement I can't help but giggle. Even today you bent down to get on your belly a good 12 inches before the step even started! God help the knees of your pants, son.
You motto is now "I'm busy." Independence. Clearly you can't be bothered with a stinky butt and the 30 seconds I take to clean it.
Hank you really are the cutest thing as you struggle to be big. 18 months going on 30.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Updates and stuff
WOW. I do not even want to go into details of hoe hectic things have gotten around here. The simplest of requests threatens on burying me alive. Hiding the temsion is getting harder as each day has a new set of stuff to deal with in some manner, namely a positive one. Must-stay-positive. Must-stay -positive. Negativity is energy zapping but I am starting to rattlesnake strick back at those whose mission it is to give grief. Your problems are not mine and I refuse to be a doormat. Whan I explicitly ask for room, give it to me.
Are you liking all these typos?? i thought it looked like a Mad Lib.
Through it all keeping a sense fo humor, howver demented, is required for sanity! And who better to make me laugh than Hankey McCrankey. He's got some teeth coming in so the crankiness is amplified right now....pick me up! Put me down! I want a cracker! Ewwww, crackers! This toy sucks! Let's eat paint! I mean, really, nothing is making him happy and it's cracking me up.
I can't help but laugh at how ridiculously cute he is when he's having a passionate fit. I laugh on the inside...sometimes. Because sometimes I just cant' help it and I try to cover my face when I get the "So whats wrong with YOU" look.
He's toddling around with his diapered hiney in jeans that make him look like a tiny 40 year old. He could be screaming his lungs out and i'm laughing becuase I know that he's got a belly underneath that shirt that is perfect for fake fart noises.
Halloween was fun. Hank was a skelton - a set of PJs with glow in the dark bones on them. I think he'll wear these till next summer as far as I'm concerned. Love 'em!
Now if I can just keep him form terrorizing other kids on the playground we'll be ok. He bites and doesn't care who you are.
I can tolerate him so mich more than high maintenance adults. Hank can be unhappy for hours and I can still be sane - tired but sane. G Dub can be unhappy for hours and I tell him to go for a drive somewhere and get outta my hair.
To top all this off, there are days that I wished we had just moved instead od adding on. A move is over within maybe like a month or so. An addition is 6 months of playing referree between G Dub and contractor and keeping expectations in balance.
I'm over it but I can't be since it isnt DONE YET! Sigh. I've never really had a choice about little things anywhere I've ever livedso picking out EVERYTHING in a house is ovewhelming and now I don't care what's in it. But it will be great in the end. But it will be great in the end, But ir will be great in the end.
I just got major chill bumps listening to Feeling Good by Nina Simone. Music is one of my escapes and the one I enjoy the most.
My Morning Jacket and Broken Bells are others that I can listen to and just let my mind wander. Lately my wanderings have been stuff like the so called death of conservatism. You know, light thinking topics.
SO there is an update! Good night
Are you liking all these typos?? i thought it looked like a Mad Lib.
Through it all keeping a sense fo humor, howver demented, is required for sanity! And who better to make me laugh than Hankey McCrankey. He's got some teeth coming in so the crankiness is amplified right now....pick me up! Put me down! I want a cracker! Ewwww, crackers! This toy sucks! Let's eat paint! I mean, really, nothing is making him happy and it's cracking me up.
I can't help but laugh at how ridiculously cute he is when he's having a passionate fit. I laugh on the inside...sometimes. Because sometimes I just cant' help it and I try to cover my face when I get the "So whats wrong with YOU" look.
He's toddling around with his diapered hiney in jeans that make him look like a tiny 40 year old. He could be screaming his lungs out and i'm laughing becuase I know that he's got a belly underneath that shirt that is perfect for fake fart noises.
Halloween was fun. Hank was a skelton - a set of PJs with glow in the dark bones on them. I think he'll wear these till next summer as far as I'm concerned. Love 'em!
Now if I can just keep him form terrorizing other kids on the playground we'll be ok. He bites and doesn't care who you are.
I can tolerate him so mich more than high maintenance adults. Hank can be unhappy for hours and I can still be sane - tired but sane. G Dub can be unhappy for hours and I tell him to go for a drive somewhere and get outta my hair.
To top all this off, there are days that I wished we had just moved instead od adding on. A move is over within maybe like a month or so. An addition is 6 months of playing referree between G Dub and contractor and keeping expectations in balance.
I'm over it but I can't be since it isnt DONE YET! Sigh. I've never really had a choice about little things anywhere I've ever livedso picking out EVERYTHING in a house is ovewhelming and now I don't care what's in it. But it will be great in the end. But it will be great in the end, But ir will be great in the end.
I just got major chill bumps listening to Feeling Good by Nina Simone. Music is one of my escapes and the one I enjoy the most.
My Morning Jacket and Broken Bells are others that I can listen to and just let my mind wander. Lately my wanderings have been stuff like the so called death of conservatism. You know, light thinking topics.
SO there is an update! Good night
Monday, September 13, 2010
Eatin' It
I’m keenly aware of humanity today as I walk from my car into work. It’s almost a mile walk so I have time. Looking around you can tell what kind of day people are having so far by the looks on their face or their body language. Some are nonchalantly smoking by the VA hosp. They need a break already today. Many are walking swiftly in to work with appointments and deadlines already on their minds, cell phones in hand. These folks are oblivious to the beautiful foliage or the smell of an early fall in the air. I feel bad for them. That Blackberry provides no sensual stimulation; contradicting what the name implies.
I’m also keenly aware of the dread I feel in my stomach. That dread of when you know something is up and the foreseen outcome is unsavory. Instinct tells me to run, retreat to the safe place. The definition of safe place is somewhere on a mountain top where I can bang my head on the side of the cave and daydream without fear of judgement. Oh yeah, and not shave. But when the “benefits” of being there are needed for living it’s not like one can just deny the spoon feeding of shit. Or can you?
It’s a double edged sword. Be autonomous and you are rebellious or aren’t a team player. Be a suck up yes man and you have no dignity. Of course, there are those that are happy. Content with the ebb and flow that are comparable only to marriage. Who are these people and why can’t I consistently be one? My expectations are not high, as always, but can you find a bright spot when you have no autonomy? And it can always be worse. It’s not a sweatshop.
But when it’s over, it’s over. When the last drop of satisfaction is crushed out of the ambient environment, it’s time to move on and not look back. Which I never do anyway.
I’m also keenly aware of the dread I feel in my stomach. That dread of when you know something is up and the foreseen outcome is unsavory. Instinct tells me to run, retreat to the safe place. The definition of safe place is somewhere on a mountain top where I can bang my head on the side of the cave and daydream without fear of judgement. Oh yeah, and not shave. But when the “benefits” of being there are needed for living it’s not like one can just deny the spoon feeding of shit. Or can you?
It’s a double edged sword. Be autonomous and you are rebellious or aren’t a team player. Be a suck up yes man and you have no dignity. Of course, there are those that are happy. Content with the ebb and flow that are comparable only to marriage. Who are these people and why can’t I consistently be one? My expectations are not high, as always, but can you find a bright spot when you have no autonomy? And it can always be worse. It’s not a sweatshop.
But when it’s over, it’s over. When the last drop of satisfaction is crushed out of the ambient environment, it’s time to move on and not look back. Which I never do anyway.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
A little less soul
My house has a little less soul tonight. I have tearfully passed my kitties on to their new home. The guilt will pass but I still have a bazillion memories to keep them with me. It sure is quiet around here tonight.
Of course, I have to start with Atticus. What a journey he's had in 13 years! He's been with me since Spring 1998 after I basically took him from my Grandpa's house. My grandparents were aging and did not need the cat named Pretty Face bestowed upon them by my well meaning aunt. I don't even know how old he was but he was grown and from the Springfield Missouri shelter. I still have his original tag and collar. From the beginning, he was my shadow. When I brought him back to TN with me, I was in student housing at TN Tech so no animals of any kind but we were about to graduate in a few months; all we had to do was keep him out of the window. I remember the rumors of people hiding their pet cats and occasionally spotted a silhouette in a window.
Then came the divorce. We graduated collage and rode to Illinois for a few months while my EX started grad school. Then we packed up again for Nashville. I love the memory of he and I riding in this clapped out U Haul with my measly belongings. I had a carrier but I let him out; he rode on top of the carrier looking down into passing cars. The faces of the other drivers was funny! Most were shocked and had a good laugh. I did too. We made it to Nashville, found a place to live and he settled into the basement apartment window. I'm sure to him it was just another window but it was he and I all the way. We were young and resilient. I called him " the only man for me" since human men were eluding me.
If Atticus were a human I always pictured him as a Tibetan monk with major attachment issues. What an oxymoron. He has a gentle soul. Is it weird to say that your cat is more spiritually complete than you are? He accepts dogs, other cats that hate him, kittens, people of every kind and welcomes them into his life. You cannot make him bite or scratch and to my embarrassment I've tried. All I got was a look of "why are you doing this?". Nothing like being humbled and shamed by your cat. When you are sick or pregnant, he recognizes that he can do nothing more than just be with you. And so he sits by you just in case rubbing his back will somehow make you feel better.
NIcknames were plenty. Atti, Atti-man, Catticus, Atticus McFatticus, son of a bitch, or other colorful expletives when one is awoken numerous times at 2:30am and a cat is irrationally persistent. While I do have all these wonderful things to say about him, it has been, at times, a tumultuous relationship. His persistence is legendary, needs are limitless and he will not be ignored. For any reason. He would rather trip you and brave your angry torrents then have an empty food bowl. Negative attention is some attention. He is chatty. Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow until you think you just might have to put him outside even without his front claws. He gets what he needs and that's where our relationship goes toxic. I made the monster and now can't handle it.
I have yet to mention Gladys. She is a cat. A cat's cat. And I love her just the same. Gary picked her out of a litter when she was 3 weeks old and brought her home when she was ready to help Atticus with some of his attachment problems. He let that kitten, tiny as she was, catch his tail, wrestle with his back legs, ambush him, it was hilarious to watch! She is our beauty and she is stupid. Dingy, not really stupid. My favorite nickname for her is Ding Dong. But her needs have limits and when she's done she jumps back up to her throne and naps casually. Her journey is small; she was with us for 7 years and never been out of the house except to go to the vet. I like her. But it didn't help Atticus.
Gladys has left her impression in our furniture. She was the scaredy cat that scratched gouges into my formal dining room table top and mahogany end tables when she got the rips at night - you know, the time of night that cats start tearing around the house with that crazy look in their eye for no apparent reason. Since I am an inherent animal lover she got to live but, wow, I was pissed at the time. She hates plastic grocery bags, paper, yelling and now Hank. He's never touched her and I've seen her leap in the air like a deer to pass him in a door way!
These little creatures are like the wallpaper of my heart. I loved them when they were first picked out and for years after that but time and life have changed the love to a faded, brittle version. Ugly. It's not fair to all parties especially the cats. I held out all this time for a home that can give Atticus what he needs. I love him enough to want him to get what his soul desperately requires.
Having Hank tipped the scales for me as I can only be needed by so much at one time. I cannot be 100% needed by more than one being at a time so the kid wins over a needy cat. Also, this is where i have to get selfish and claim my autonomy. Right now I don't feel very good about that autonomy but it is a good decision in the long run. I feel terrible actually.
Of course, I have to start with Atticus. What a journey he's had in 13 years! He's been with me since Spring 1998 after I basically took him from my Grandpa's house. My grandparents were aging and did not need the cat named Pretty Face bestowed upon them by my well meaning aunt. I don't even know how old he was but he was grown and from the Springfield Missouri shelter. I still have his original tag and collar. From the beginning, he was my shadow. When I brought him back to TN with me, I was in student housing at TN Tech so no animals of any kind but we were about to graduate in a few months; all we had to do was keep him out of the window. I remember the rumors of people hiding their pet cats and occasionally spotted a silhouette in a window.
Then came the divorce. We graduated collage and rode to Illinois for a few months while my EX started grad school. Then we packed up again for Nashville. I love the memory of he and I riding in this clapped out U Haul with my measly belongings. I had a carrier but I let him out; he rode on top of the carrier looking down into passing cars. The faces of the other drivers was funny! Most were shocked and had a good laugh. I did too. We made it to Nashville, found a place to live and he settled into the basement apartment window. I'm sure to him it was just another window but it was he and I all the way. We were young and resilient. I called him " the only man for me" since human men were eluding me.
If Atticus were a human I always pictured him as a Tibetan monk with major attachment issues. What an oxymoron. He has a gentle soul. Is it weird to say that your cat is more spiritually complete than you are? He accepts dogs, other cats that hate him, kittens, people of every kind and welcomes them into his life. You cannot make him bite or scratch and to my embarrassment I've tried. All I got was a look of "why are you doing this?". Nothing like being humbled and shamed by your cat. When you are sick or pregnant, he recognizes that he can do nothing more than just be with you. And so he sits by you just in case rubbing his back will somehow make you feel better.
NIcknames were plenty. Atti, Atti-man, Catticus, Atticus McFatticus, son of a bitch, or other colorful expletives when one is awoken numerous times at 2:30am and a cat is irrationally persistent. While I do have all these wonderful things to say about him, it has been, at times, a tumultuous relationship. His persistence is legendary, needs are limitless and he will not be ignored. For any reason. He would rather trip you and brave your angry torrents then have an empty food bowl. Negative attention is some attention. He is chatty. Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow until you think you just might have to put him outside even without his front claws. He gets what he needs and that's where our relationship goes toxic. I made the monster and now can't handle it.
I have yet to mention Gladys. She is a cat. A cat's cat. And I love her just the same. Gary picked her out of a litter when she was 3 weeks old and brought her home when she was ready to help Atticus with some of his attachment problems. He let that kitten, tiny as she was, catch his tail, wrestle with his back legs, ambush him, it was hilarious to watch! She is our beauty and she is stupid. Dingy, not really stupid. My favorite nickname for her is Ding Dong. But her needs have limits and when she's done she jumps back up to her throne and naps casually. Her journey is small; she was with us for 7 years and never been out of the house except to go to the vet. I like her. But it didn't help Atticus.
Gladys has left her impression in our furniture. She was the scaredy cat that scratched gouges into my formal dining room table top and mahogany end tables when she got the rips at night - you know, the time of night that cats start tearing around the house with that crazy look in their eye for no apparent reason. Since I am an inherent animal lover she got to live but, wow, I was pissed at the time. She hates plastic grocery bags, paper, yelling and now Hank. He's never touched her and I've seen her leap in the air like a deer to pass him in a door way!
These little creatures are like the wallpaper of my heart. I loved them when they were first picked out and for years after that but time and life have changed the love to a faded, brittle version. Ugly. It's not fair to all parties especially the cats. I held out all this time for a home that can give Atticus what he needs. I love him enough to want him to get what his soul desperately requires.
Having Hank tipped the scales for me as I can only be needed by so much at one time. I cannot be 100% needed by more than one being at a time so the kid wins over a needy cat. Also, this is where i have to get selfish and claim my autonomy. Right now I don't feel very good about that autonomy but it is a good decision in the long run. I feel terrible actually.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Google Schmoogle
I'm sick and tired of all inclusive everythings. It took me so damn long to log in to this account that by now I don't give a crap about writing and am now going to bed. Damn Google - the Sam's of cyberspace. Grrrrr.
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