i am sitting in my bathtub in a very hot bath when suddenly Batman comes floating by. this doesn't happen to me everyday. when i reached over to grab him, i noticed that he had something, or rather, someone attached to his cape. it was Velma from Scooby Do. i can understand her attraction to him. he is strong and silent. self-employed in a meaningful job. not the kind of guy who will come home and bore you to tears with stories about the "funniest thing that greg from the office did out at lunch today. what a scene keith caused at the thai place during lunch. what a backstabber that lisa is in accounting or how inappropriate debbi's outfit is."
of course, loving Batman does have some drawbacks. such as, he is not home as much as you would like. he can't keep regular hours so it is hard to make dinner for the guy. he can be moody and broods a lot. he tends to internalize a lot of things. has some trouble communicating.
Batman's attraction to Velma is equally obvious. she is dependable and reliable. always there when you need her. she has intelligence and a daredevil quality about her. she can make a guy feel safe. true, she can be a little annoying, like when she finishes the crossword puzzle before you have had a chance to look at the paper. and she is always pushing you to get more in touch with your feelings. but, she is there waiting for you when you come home after battling the forces of evil, drooling on your pillows and snoring ever so slightly and she has never seemed so beautiful to you.
can you belive that i find my self in tears in the bathtub. am i in desperate need of some romance....or simply a date? i'll take an evening with my beloved, snuggling under the covers.
1.27.2005
1.25.2005
are u there god?
i am sitting on a friend's couch, giggling like a girl. i am telling a story about how "chick shit" has ruined a lot of my so-called friendships. we both agree at the hassle of crap and drama that women force upon each other is the reason women can be so destructive. so we are in the midst of discussing "clitty litter" when my friend says to me:
"you talk just like a judy blume book!"
i think this fits me perfectly. i am so caught in a time when i was not just a girl, but some kind of odd hybrid of girl/boy. i spent my time in jeans, with holes in the knees, catching fireflies in empty miracle whip jars, boasting about my collection of toads from the cemetary, and riding my bike to the park that had the really big swings. the kind that go so high in the air you feel like you are taking flight. the trick was to tip back in your swing and let your hair drag in the dirt. the girl who could make the biggest dust cloud with her hair was dirt queen for the entire summer. i miss the life of scabbed knees and boys who wished they could pitch a baseball like i could. push-ups were 25 cents and you could ride your bike with the banana seat around your neighborhood without fear. i feel comforted when i think of those long summer evenings listening to the rat-tat-tat of cards in my bike spokes as i rode home before the street lights came on. it was a time when a girl knows she is a girl, and not a boy, but still dreads that time when she will have to let go of some of the boy-ness in her personality. it is that time right before the division of the sexes takes place. i really believe my best years were the summers between 8 and 13. things were easier, messier, and more fun.
the best part is that my friend and i both have girls and will get to experience that time all over again thru our girls. i don't mean that we are going to live thru our girls. we understand that we had our moment, but we look forward to the time where we can be silent observers. i see us pretending to make dinner in the kitchen, all the while we are eavesdropping on the girls in the yard comparing the size of their scabs and boasting about how high they can swing. we both realize how special this time will be for our girls..and how quickly it will pass.
"you talk just like a judy blume book!"
i think this fits me perfectly. i am so caught in a time when i was not just a girl, but some kind of odd hybrid of girl/boy. i spent my time in jeans, with holes in the knees, catching fireflies in empty miracle whip jars, boasting about my collection of toads from the cemetary, and riding my bike to the park that had the really big swings. the kind that go so high in the air you feel like you are taking flight. the trick was to tip back in your swing and let your hair drag in the dirt. the girl who could make the biggest dust cloud with her hair was dirt queen for the entire summer. i miss the life of scabbed knees and boys who wished they could pitch a baseball like i could. push-ups were 25 cents and you could ride your bike with the banana seat around your neighborhood without fear. i feel comforted when i think of those long summer evenings listening to the rat-tat-tat of cards in my bike spokes as i rode home before the street lights came on. it was a time when a girl knows she is a girl, and not a boy, but still dreads that time when she will have to let go of some of the boy-ness in her personality. it is that time right before the division of the sexes takes place. i really believe my best years were the summers between 8 and 13. things were easier, messier, and more fun.
the best part is that my friend and i both have girls and will get to experience that time all over again thru our girls. i don't mean that we are going to live thru our girls. we understand that we had our moment, but we look forward to the time where we can be silent observers. i see us pretending to make dinner in the kitchen, all the while we are eavesdropping on the girls in the yard comparing the size of their scabs and boasting about how high they can swing. we both realize how special this time will be for our girls..and how quickly it will pass.
1.24.2005
making a list
these are things i need to do:
buy paper towel
buy something for dinner
get emma to dance
feed nik and emma before dance
put clothes in washer in drier
fold clothes from drier and put away
empty out dishwasher
put dirty dishes in dishwasher
clean toilets
clean up my bedroom
dust blinds in living room
these are things that i am thinking about:
a small hand holding on to the back of my knee as i do dishes
small hands finger painting my face
the smell of sunshine in hair
finding a collection of rocks in a pair of jeans
discovering a headless barbie in my bed
smelling the top of a baby head while they sleep on my chest
days spent in pajama's
finding dried out playdough under dining room table
a collection of my toothbrushes in a pillowcase
giggling in the morning
the magic kiss on a band aid
playing princess and dragon
baby monster
playing in the sink
as i reach a particular place in my life i stop and take stock. by letting one thing go i will not lose these memories. they are mine forever and nothing can take that away from me. things may change, but some things remain the same always. who says you can't live on love alone?
buy paper towel
buy something for dinner
get emma to dance
feed nik and emma before dance
put clothes in washer in drier
fold clothes from drier and put away
empty out dishwasher
put dirty dishes in dishwasher
clean toilets
clean up my bedroom
dust blinds in living room
these are things that i am thinking about:
a small hand holding on to the back of my knee as i do dishes
small hands finger painting my face
the smell of sunshine in hair
finding a collection of rocks in a pair of jeans
discovering a headless barbie in my bed
smelling the top of a baby head while they sleep on my chest
days spent in pajama's
finding dried out playdough under dining room table
a collection of my toothbrushes in a pillowcase
giggling in the morning
the magic kiss on a band aid
playing princess and dragon
baby monster
playing in the sink
as i reach a particular place in my life i stop and take stock. by letting one thing go i will not lose these memories. they are mine forever and nothing can take that away from me. things may change, but some things remain the same always. who says you can't live on love alone?
1.22.2005
about a boy
there is such a dynamic within my son. he is both loving and.... what is the other word for this behavior?
on the weekend, nik and i were watching a trio of humphrey bogart movies. during the maltese falcon, emma asked why the lady was crying. i explained that mary astor had murdered someone and was going to jail. emma persisted in asking why did she have to go to jail. nik was so practical and explained:
"she killed miles. miles was his partner. sam isn't going down for her. she is going to down for killing miles. it is what a man has to do when is partner has been killed."
emma accepted this without question. someone kills your partner, pretty lady or not, you've got to send them over for it.
the last couple of days have been dark ones for me. and of course, my kids must bear the brunt of my mixed emotions. this morning was especially difficult for us. the whole process of getting the kids into the car and on their way to school can be exhausting for all of us. this morning was quite icky.
as a result, nik made a picture for me in school today. this is a picture of me saying, "i don't like you." and nik crying with a broken heart. this has left me with an indescribeable feeling in my soul. i have never uttered these words to either of my children. in fact, i make a point of saying their decisions make me upset and that there is nothing they can do that would ever make me not love them anymore. am i not making my point? obviously not.
apparently my dark moods are not mine alone. how does he know how sad i have been? how does he know i don't sleep? that i come home after dropping them at school and cry? children are very smart and nik is extremely sensitive. how can i explain that my feelings have nothing to do with him. the fact that he doesn't remember his backpack or takes 20 minutes to get dressed in the morning is not the reason i hate myself. my darkness is not mine alone. this is one of those things that you don't think of before you have a child. your own worries and demons are no longer just yours. my son is sometimes more aware that i am sad than i am. my face holds no secrets. and this makes me very sad.
after a heart-to-heart this evening, i tell nik that i am a mommy, but that i am not perfect. he likes and understands the idea that even mommies make mistakes. he offered me encouragement by saying, "even if you make a mistake, i will still love you." i assured him this went both ways. he has trouble understanding that he is not capable of losing my love. he believes that he will do something so horrible that i will just forget about him. this is something i don't understand, but i hate that he feels that way. to me, this is a failure on my part. how can i change this? i promised him we would take things one day at a time. this he understands. this is also something i can handle. the concept of child-rearing is just so big i can't get my brain around it. i can't even think about next year, not even this summer. i must take each day for what it brings. i can't put off improving my mothering skills until next week, next month. i will focus on tomorrow. i will wake up and stand tall. i will take all the little missteps on the chin and move forward.
i must also be able to let the bad go, as nik does. when saying goodnight tonight he gave me a hug and said, "let's not talk about that picture anymore." i assured him that i would grant this wish, even though i was desperate to tell him how important this picture is to me. the fact that he could illustrate his feelings, as well as, communicate his feelings makes me proud. i can't explain to him how important this picture is for me as a mother. instead i just can say, "sure thing boo" and leave it at that.
the thing about this boy is that he will leave it at that. if he does think about the picture again, he will remember our conversation, the hugs, the way his mom came clean about not being perfect, and he will be ok with that. here is where he and i differ. if i think about that picture again, i will remember his heart being broken...and i will not be able to forgive myself. when i grow up, i want to be like nik.
on the weekend, nik and i were watching a trio of humphrey bogart movies. during the maltese falcon, emma asked why the lady was crying. i explained that mary astor had murdered someone and was going to jail. emma persisted in asking why did she have to go to jail. nik was so practical and explained:
"she killed miles. miles was his partner. sam isn't going down for her. she is going to down for killing miles. it is what a man has to do when is partner has been killed."
emma accepted this without question. someone kills your partner, pretty lady or not, you've got to send them over for it.
the last couple of days have been dark ones for me. and of course, my kids must bear the brunt of my mixed emotions. this morning was especially difficult for us. the whole process of getting the kids into the car and on their way to school can be exhausting for all of us. this morning was quite icky.
as a result, nik made a picture for me in school today. this is a picture of me saying, "i don't like you." and nik crying with a broken heart. this has left me with an indescribeable feeling in my soul. i have never uttered these words to either of my children. in fact, i make a point of saying their decisions make me upset and that there is nothing they can do that would ever make me not love them anymore. am i not making my point? obviously not.
apparently my dark moods are not mine alone. how does he know how sad i have been? how does he know i don't sleep? that i come home after dropping them at school and cry? children are very smart and nik is extremely sensitive. how can i explain that my feelings have nothing to do with him. the fact that he doesn't remember his backpack or takes 20 minutes to get dressed in the morning is not the reason i hate myself. my darkness is not mine alone. this is one of those things that you don't think of before you have a child. your own worries and demons are no longer just yours. my son is sometimes more aware that i am sad than i am. my face holds no secrets. and this makes me very sad.
after a heart-to-heart this evening, i tell nik that i am a mommy, but that i am not perfect. he likes and understands the idea that even mommies make mistakes. he offered me encouragement by saying, "even if you make a mistake, i will still love you." i assured him this went both ways. he has trouble understanding that he is not capable of losing my love. he believes that he will do something so horrible that i will just forget about him. this is something i don't understand, but i hate that he feels that way. to me, this is a failure on my part. how can i change this? i promised him we would take things one day at a time. this he understands. this is also something i can handle. the concept of child-rearing is just so big i can't get my brain around it. i can't even think about next year, not even this summer. i must take each day for what it brings. i can't put off improving my mothering skills until next week, next month. i will focus on tomorrow. i will wake up and stand tall. i will take all the little missteps on the chin and move forward.
i must also be able to let the bad go, as nik does. when saying goodnight tonight he gave me a hug and said, "let's not talk about that picture anymore." i assured him that i would grant this wish, even though i was desperate to tell him how important this picture is to me. the fact that he could illustrate his feelings, as well as, communicate his feelings makes me proud. i can't explain to him how important this picture is for me as a mother. instead i just can say, "sure thing boo" and leave it at that.
the thing about this boy is that he will leave it at that. if he does think about the picture again, he will remember our conversation, the hugs, the way his mom came clean about not being perfect, and he will be ok with that. here is where he and i differ. if i think about that picture again, i will remember his heart being broken...and i will not be able to forgive myself. when i grow up, i want to be like nik.
1.06.2005
cat scratch fever
I have a fever. I must admit this because I am not sure if the events I am about to share are real or fever-induced.
Last weekend, Dan and I undertook the scary job of cleaning our room. That is not to say we have actually completed this task, but rather, we can see the floor. The angry piles of dirty laundry that were plotting a coup are now downstairs. And I have removed the 2 inches of dust off the fan blades, thus preventing any further damage to our nasal passages, since we insist on always running the ceiling fan even if it is 2 degrees outside. We also tend to keep our window open throughout the winter, this may add to the constant cold I seem to have. But I digress….
So right in the middle of the dusting, vacuuming, wrestling with the dirty clothes, I hear this sad and persistent meowing outside. There was no snow on the ground, the temperature was about 40 degrees, but there was a slight chill in the air. Out of nowhere this cat came to our front yard, sat in front of our bedroom window and began singing this sad song…..to me. It felt as if this cat sang this song just for me. I believe it was the tune, “I am a sad and hungry cat with no one to love me. I know you have a nice warm roasted chicken in your house. I know you are a soft touch when it comes to stray animals. I know you want to give me some of that chicken….NOW!”
As I looked out the window, these sad little eyes looked up at me….I was caught. Trapped in the lock of these little feline eyes. It was if he/she knew what kind of person they were dealing with. As if the cat had heard thru the grapevine that a sucker lived in my house. Dan sealed my fate with this cat when he said, “looks like Casey.”
Casey. Casey had been one of our cats when we first moved in together. This cat had to weigh about 65 pounds, mostly fur, really. He was so terrified to be leaving his nice roomy home in the suburbs to come and live in our tiny apartment among the drug addicts and male prostitutes. So upset by this transition that he wedged himself into the tiny space between a wall and our entertainment center. I spent hours coaching that fat cat out of that space, not realizing that he was actually stuck. I think Casey fell in love with me when I freed him from his trap and gave him tuna out of the can…the whole can. We quickly bonded and he began to sleep with me. When I say sleep with me, I mean he would crawl under the covers and sleep against my belly. Dan used to say he was surprised we didn’t scorch the sheets with our combined body heat. It was a sad, terrible day for me when Casey died. That is all I have to say about that.
So, now this cat shows up. In the middle of a Saturday afternoon, begging for love. What am I to do? Yes, I gave him chicken. Cooper our dog shot me the stink eye as I carried out some nice warm, carefully sliced chicken for this cat. But I didn’t care. Cat was happy. Cat purred and rubbed against my leg. Dan called out the window to me, “he had you at meow.” It was true.
I put cat out of my mind for the last few days. Out of sight, out of mind. Until……tonight. We are in the midst of a so-called winter storm. This means it will be a pain getting this kids to school. Our district hasn’t had a snow day since the blizzard of 1921. I have been battling a fever/cold/flu all day. I finally have lulled myself with cold tablets, diet Pepsi, and 2 hours of television featuring those goddamn Nazi’s when I hear it…..”meow…meow.” It is very faint, but it instantly wakes me up. I look out my window, but all I can see is snow. It is very cold outside. I open the front door and I can see little tracks in the snow. Oh, god. Cat! I can’t see cat anywhere. I whisper, but no reply.
Here is where things get a little fuzzy. This may or may not have happened, depending on what you hear. I may have then pulled on Dan’s boots and gone outside to look for cat. In my head, cat would be very cold and hungry. In my head, cat needed rescuing. Out in the snow, I follow tracks, little tiny paw prints, which lead me into my neighbor’s yards. I am greeted with great barks and growls of dogs being let out one last time for the night. After all, it is midnight. And what will I say if someone sees me in their yard? Just looking for cat? Standing in the middle of someone’s backyard, in my p.j.’s and Dan’s boots I come to my senses. FUCK THIS CAT! This is insane. I am out here, for what? This cat doesn’t belong to me. What do I care! I refuse to care. I refuse to worry about that damn cat. True, I once begged my parents to adopt a 3-legged, one-eyed dog from the humane society because I knew no one else would take him. And yes, during a rather dark period in my life I once went 2 days without sleep because I knew animals were starving on the streets, but no more. I have a steel heart now….sort of. This is what is pissing me off. My displaced agony over the condition of the world falls onto this cat.
Somehow I can rationalize staying awake at night, worrying about a cat. I can feed the cat. I can’t rationalize the rest of the world. Even my own babies. How can I keep them safe? How can a person like me even be a mother? The world is this big scary thing and we are all so small and completely defenseless. Sometimes our mere survival depends on the humanity of people around us. A hungry cat keeping me awake? No, it is not the cat. It is the world that surrounds that cat. But I get so scared; I can’t even allow myself to worry too much. If I really sit down and think about the world I have brought my children into I would never sleep again. I would keep watch over them day and night, never letting them out of my sight. But, who can live like that? I can’t. I can’t even think about it…that is why I am up in the middle of the night, looking for some cat. Does this make sense? Does anything about parenthood make sense?
My poor babies are at such a disadvantage having me as their mother. How can I be a source of strength and comfort when I am terrified? Last night Nik and I were talking about fear. I heard myself telling him to not let fear rule his life. There is a difference between being cautious and being afraid. Instead of always being scared that the abominable snowman is going to grab you and eat your bones, be cautious and brave. Be ready for him if he comes, but don’t waste your time sitting around waiting for him. Nik took this to heart and said, “yeah. If he wants me, he will have to come and find me. And I will have my light saber and that will take care of him.” I wonder if Nik would lend me his light saber.
Last weekend, Dan and I undertook the scary job of cleaning our room. That is not to say we have actually completed this task, but rather, we can see the floor. The angry piles of dirty laundry that were plotting a coup are now downstairs. And I have removed the 2 inches of dust off the fan blades, thus preventing any further damage to our nasal passages, since we insist on always running the ceiling fan even if it is 2 degrees outside. We also tend to keep our window open throughout the winter, this may add to the constant cold I seem to have. But I digress….
So right in the middle of the dusting, vacuuming, wrestling with the dirty clothes, I hear this sad and persistent meowing outside. There was no snow on the ground, the temperature was about 40 degrees, but there was a slight chill in the air. Out of nowhere this cat came to our front yard, sat in front of our bedroom window and began singing this sad song…..to me. It felt as if this cat sang this song just for me. I believe it was the tune, “I am a sad and hungry cat with no one to love me. I know you have a nice warm roasted chicken in your house. I know you are a soft touch when it comes to stray animals. I know you want to give me some of that chicken….NOW!”
As I looked out the window, these sad little eyes looked up at me….I was caught. Trapped in the lock of these little feline eyes. It was if he/she knew what kind of person they were dealing with. As if the cat had heard thru the grapevine that a sucker lived in my house. Dan sealed my fate with this cat when he said, “looks like Casey.”
Casey. Casey had been one of our cats when we first moved in together. This cat had to weigh about 65 pounds, mostly fur, really. He was so terrified to be leaving his nice roomy home in the suburbs to come and live in our tiny apartment among the drug addicts and male prostitutes. So upset by this transition that he wedged himself into the tiny space between a wall and our entertainment center. I spent hours coaching that fat cat out of that space, not realizing that he was actually stuck. I think Casey fell in love with me when I freed him from his trap and gave him tuna out of the can…the whole can. We quickly bonded and he began to sleep with me. When I say sleep with me, I mean he would crawl under the covers and sleep against my belly. Dan used to say he was surprised we didn’t scorch the sheets with our combined body heat. It was a sad, terrible day for me when Casey died. That is all I have to say about that.
So, now this cat shows up. In the middle of a Saturday afternoon, begging for love. What am I to do? Yes, I gave him chicken. Cooper our dog shot me the stink eye as I carried out some nice warm, carefully sliced chicken for this cat. But I didn’t care. Cat was happy. Cat purred and rubbed against my leg. Dan called out the window to me, “he had you at meow.” It was true.
I put cat out of my mind for the last few days. Out of sight, out of mind. Until……tonight. We are in the midst of a so-called winter storm. This means it will be a pain getting this kids to school. Our district hasn’t had a snow day since the blizzard of 1921. I have been battling a fever/cold/flu all day. I finally have lulled myself with cold tablets, diet Pepsi, and 2 hours of television featuring those goddamn Nazi’s when I hear it…..”meow…meow.” It is very faint, but it instantly wakes me up. I look out my window, but all I can see is snow. It is very cold outside. I open the front door and I can see little tracks in the snow. Oh, god. Cat! I can’t see cat anywhere. I whisper, but no reply.
Here is where things get a little fuzzy. This may or may not have happened, depending on what you hear. I may have then pulled on Dan’s boots and gone outside to look for cat. In my head, cat would be very cold and hungry. In my head, cat needed rescuing. Out in the snow, I follow tracks, little tiny paw prints, which lead me into my neighbor’s yards. I am greeted with great barks and growls of dogs being let out one last time for the night. After all, it is midnight. And what will I say if someone sees me in their yard? Just looking for cat? Standing in the middle of someone’s backyard, in my p.j.’s and Dan’s boots I come to my senses. FUCK THIS CAT! This is insane. I am out here, for what? This cat doesn’t belong to me. What do I care! I refuse to care. I refuse to worry about that damn cat. True, I once begged my parents to adopt a 3-legged, one-eyed dog from the humane society because I knew no one else would take him. And yes, during a rather dark period in my life I once went 2 days without sleep because I knew animals were starving on the streets, but no more. I have a steel heart now….sort of. This is what is pissing me off. My displaced agony over the condition of the world falls onto this cat.
Somehow I can rationalize staying awake at night, worrying about a cat. I can feed the cat. I can’t rationalize the rest of the world. Even my own babies. How can I keep them safe? How can a person like me even be a mother? The world is this big scary thing and we are all so small and completely defenseless. Sometimes our mere survival depends on the humanity of people around us. A hungry cat keeping me awake? No, it is not the cat. It is the world that surrounds that cat. But I get so scared; I can’t even allow myself to worry too much. If I really sit down and think about the world I have brought my children into I would never sleep again. I would keep watch over them day and night, never letting them out of my sight. But, who can live like that? I can’t. I can’t even think about it…that is why I am up in the middle of the night, looking for some cat. Does this make sense? Does anything about parenthood make sense?
My poor babies are at such a disadvantage having me as their mother. How can I be a source of strength and comfort when I am terrified? Last night Nik and I were talking about fear. I heard myself telling him to not let fear rule his life. There is a difference between being cautious and being afraid. Instead of always being scared that the abominable snowman is going to grab you and eat your bones, be cautious and brave. Be ready for him if he comes, but don’t waste your time sitting around waiting for him. Nik took this to heart and said, “yeah. If he wants me, he will have to come and find me. And I will have my light saber and that will take care of him.” I wonder if Nik would lend me his light saber.
1.01.2005
rockin' the suburbs
happy new year!
this will be a great year. and, fuck if i don't mean it. this year i did make resolutions. and no, i am not going to list every single one of them. but one worth mentioning is ATTITUDE. i am going to lose my negative attitude. you know, the one where i am full of rage and ugly feelings towards humanity in general.
i have reolved to reflect positively on what happens to me during the day. i believe that an improved outlook will go a long way. i am sure that this will completely change my personality, but i think it may be worth it. i am sick of myself for being such a petty person. ok, i am not really sick of myself. i am ashamed??? not really, but i should be. i should be kinder, less judgemental, even if the person i am complaining about totally sucks and deserves every mean thing i say, but...that was the old me. the new me will no longer make grand statements like,
"so-and-so is out of their fucking mind if they think...."
"what the fuck is so-and-so's problem?!"
"that is some bullshit right there, thinking such-and-such"
and yet, so much of this hate makes up my personality. don't get me wrong. i am full of self-loathing. i believe in spreading the hate all around. and the world is full of plenty of stupid people....ok, sorry. got carried away there. time for me to do my meditating.......
today is the first day of a new me. a kinder, gentler jen. i don't know how long i can keep this smile frozen on my face.....
this will be a great year. and, fuck if i don't mean it. this year i did make resolutions. and no, i am not going to list every single one of them. but one worth mentioning is ATTITUDE. i am going to lose my negative attitude. you know, the one where i am full of rage and ugly feelings towards humanity in general.
i have reolved to reflect positively on what happens to me during the day. i believe that an improved outlook will go a long way. i am sure that this will completely change my personality, but i think it may be worth it. i am sick of myself for being such a petty person. ok, i am not really sick of myself. i am ashamed??? not really, but i should be. i should be kinder, less judgemental, even if the person i am complaining about totally sucks and deserves every mean thing i say, but...that was the old me. the new me will no longer make grand statements like,
"so-and-so is out of their fucking mind if they think...."
"what the fuck is so-and-so's problem?!"
"that is some bullshit right there, thinking such-and-such"
and yet, so much of this hate makes up my personality. don't get me wrong. i am full of self-loathing. i believe in spreading the hate all around. and the world is full of plenty of stupid people....ok, sorry. got carried away there. time for me to do my meditating.......
today is the first day of a new me. a kinder, gentler jen. i don't know how long i can keep this smile frozen on my face.....
12.26.2004
Charlie's Angels
christmas eve mass never fails to bring a tear to my eye. i don't know if it is the decorations, the music, or the sheer joy i feel when i am with my little family. this year was no different. my babies were not thrilled about going to mass, but little evita was calmed down with the promise that she could wear "magic sparkily shoes" with her dress. the best part of mass was the dimissial when "hark the herald angels sing" was sung, and both of my kids yelled, "hey, it's the charlie brown music!" both babies sang at the top of their lungs, using their own lyrics.
it was a pleasant christmas, and i do intent to stretch the holiday spirit throughout the week the kids are home from school. i haven't seen much of nik. he has been busy burning his brain cells playing xbox nonstop. i am trying not to feel guilty about this. emma is in good spirits, playing barbie in peril constantly, and thankfully, not requiring the participation of dan or me.
sadly, the tree is dead. it looks nice proped up in the snow at the curb. next year i must resist the urge to buy the tree a month before christmas.
blessing and peace to the world.
it was a pleasant christmas, and i do intent to stretch the holiday spirit throughout the week the kids are home from school. i haven't seen much of nik. he has been busy burning his brain cells playing xbox nonstop. i am trying not to feel guilty about this. emma is in good spirits, playing barbie in peril constantly, and thankfully, not requiring the participation of dan or me.
sadly, the tree is dead. it looks nice proped up in the snow at the curb. next year i must resist the urge to buy the tree a month before christmas.
blessing and peace to the world.
12.20.2004
letting it go....
tis the season for just letting all the petty shit in your life go. simply drop it from your fingertips. let it fall from your hands, like a feather caught on a breeze. i am really trying to let it all go. let all my pent up frustrations just go. i am taking a broom and sweeping my brain clean. i refuse, I REFUSE, to get all caught up in all the same drama/bullshit that crowds my tiny mind most of the time.
my little evita is talking thru her nose. thank you christmas colds. i know that she is suffering. her head is hot, her nose is raw, but she is so damn cute. why is she so much more loving when she is sick. it is as if she thinks, "ok, i am sick. i better not pull any of my normal shit here. i need this crazy bitch to take care of me. the only way i can get a popsicle is to sweet talk her."
and so, little miss stuffy-head has me wrapped around her finger. "tanks omma" i love her.
when i am in the process of letting all the shit go, i really enjoy talking to people who are busy getting themselves all worked up. it reminds me of lenny bruce. back when he was being sued by just about everyone and shooting a nice cosy mixture of cocaine and heroin, he stopped doing regular stand up routines. instead he would just read out his court transcripts to the audience. he was confused as to why the audience didn't have the same response he did.
problems, or communication breakdowns occur when your world has become so small that only you and your deluded personality fit. it is times like this it is best to step outside yourself and look in. if the picture isn't as pretty as you thought it is time to make a change. it seems like the holiday season brings out the worst in people. as if we should stop and say, "oh my god! i can't believe how unfair the world is to you. poor baby!" suck it up and LET IT GO.
my babies always help me put things back into perspective. why the fuck should i care about some-stupid-such-and-such, when i have one baby with a cold and one baby who has just given birth to a reincarnation of mickey rooney. everything here is swell. and why shouldn't it be? just let it go.....
my little evita is talking thru her nose. thank you christmas colds. i know that she is suffering. her head is hot, her nose is raw, but she is so damn cute. why is she so much more loving when she is sick. it is as if she thinks, "ok, i am sick. i better not pull any of my normal shit here. i need this crazy bitch to take care of me. the only way i can get a popsicle is to sweet talk her."
and so, little miss stuffy-head has me wrapped around her finger. "tanks omma" i love her.
when i am in the process of letting all the shit go, i really enjoy talking to people who are busy getting themselves all worked up. it reminds me of lenny bruce. back when he was being sued by just about everyone and shooting a nice cosy mixture of cocaine and heroin, he stopped doing regular stand up routines. instead he would just read out his court transcripts to the audience. he was confused as to why the audience didn't have the same response he did.
problems, or communication breakdowns occur when your world has become so small that only you and your deluded personality fit. it is times like this it is best to step outside yourself and look in. if the picture isn't as pretty as you thought it is time to make a change. it seems like the holiday season brings out the worst in people. as if we should stop and say, "oh my god! i can't believe how unfair the world is to you. poor baby!" suck it up and LET IT GO.
my babies always help me put things back into perspective. why the fuck should i care about some-stupid-such-and-such, when i have one baby with a cold and one baby who has just given birth to a reincarnation of mickey rooney. everything here is swell. and why shouldn't it be? just let it go.....
12.17.2004
THE BLUE SLOTH
any one out there feeling a little empty inside? is there someone out there putting their kids to bed and then sneaking off for a good cry? anybody else sick of hearing, "parenthood is a process...there is no completion." is there another parent out there who is sick of being told, "nobody said raising kids would be easy." i am sure a frontal lobotomy isn't either.
please take a moment and read this particular entry of a great guy who has just about at the end of his rope. he is husband, father, artisit, and very very insightful on how it feels to be a parent.
the blue sloth
http://artweld.blogs.com
thank you phillip.....
please take a moment and read this particular entry of a great guy who has just about at the end of his rope. he is husband, father, artisit, and very very insightful on how it feels to be a parent.
the blue sloth
http://artweld.blogs.com
thank you phillip.....
12.16.2004
the randomness of every day things....
these are things that have made me say, "huh...."
rugby. can i say it? i love rugby.
what is nick rhodes obsession with being a space alien? is he not able to smile with all that lipstick?
why does jennifer lopez feel the need to make a video that replicates the movie flashdance?
is the manchester city team good enough to win this year?
why are the majority of my thoughts related to "all things english?"
how much is too much when pushing someone over the edge?
why does dan need to have a gameboy advanced?
if i don't eat anything during the day, why is my kitchen a mess?
is it bad to let your children go to bed at 6:30 PM?
what is the deal with all the reality tv? what happen to good old fashion primetime dramas?
why does the bbc america channel show nothing but english home improvement shows?
why must the office end?
why do people have to use the correct pronouncation when saying things like, provolne cheese or genoa salami?
did you know how inexpensive a trip to egypt is?
why did the black crowes break up?
what is with the new "elite" being rich, young and spoiled americans?
must it be so cold to have snow?
is sweden really covered in a blue haze this time of year?
how much kleenex can i use in one day?
why must emma play use the holy family to play her star wars games?
how did i ever get two children who are so beautiful......
that is a real mystery...
rugby. can i say it? i love rugby.
what is nick rhodes obsession with being a space alien? is he not able to smile with all that lipstick?
why does jennifer lopez feel the need to make a video that replicates the movie flashdance?
is the manchester city team good enough to win this year?
why are the majority of my thoughts related to "all things english?"
how much is too much when pushing someone over the edge?
why does dan need to have a gameboy advanced?
if i don't eat anything during the day, why is my kitchen a mess?
is it bad to let your children go to bed at 6:30 PM?
what is the deal with all the reality tv? what happen to good old fashion primetime dramas?
why does the bbc america channel show nothing but english home improvement shows?
why must the office end?
why do people have to use the correct pronouncation when saying things like, provolne cheese or genoa salami?
did you know how inexpensive a trip to egypt is?
why did the black crowes break up?
what is with the new "elite" being rich, young and spoiled americans?
must it be so cold to have snow?
is sweden really covered in a blue haze this time of year?
how much kleenex can i use in one day?
why must emma play use the holy family to play her star wars games?
how did i ever get two children who are so beautiful......
that is a real mystery...
12.06.2004
somebody up there really likes me....
my beloved sparky. today is my love's birthday. we don't make a big deal about birthday's or christmas, i say "we" as in dan and me. we have learned to make every day special. i know i may sound completely corny, but we truly view each day we have together as a gift. i can't put into words how much this man means to me. i know i have written a great deal about him and all that makes him wonderful, but i couldn't resist sharing one moment.....
quite a few years ago (before babies) dan and i had gone out for an evening. this meant both of us getting dressed up in fancy clothes, a fancy dinner and staying out past 1 am. it had been a lovely evening and we both enjoyed ourselves and the company of friends. upon returning home we both changed into our p.j.'s, i made a big bowl of popcorn and we watched an old bette davis movie on tv. during the commercial, dan leaned over to me and whispered, "this is the best part of the entire evening."
this is what i love best about dan. you can take all your fancy dinners, fancy clothes, entertaining people and stimulating conversation. dan would rather be alone with me. i don't know if this is a sickness on his part. i know i feel the same way. sure, there is a lot of very interesting things to do and see in the world, but what better place to be than snuggled up with the love of my life. i realize i gush, but can you tell me what is better than stretching your foot across the bed in the middle of the night and touch toes with your love? the man can still make me blush.
daniel, you are my love and my best friend. i am soooooo proud of you. you take such great care of me and your children. you have my admiration and my respect. for now and always. i love you to death, sparky!!!
quite a few years ago (before babies) dan and i had gone out for an evening. this meant both of us getting dressed up in fancy clothes, a fancy dinner and staying out past 1 am. it had been a lovely evening and we both enjoyed ourselves and the company of friends. upon returning home we both changed into our p.j.'s, i made a big bowl of popcorn and we watched an old bette davis movie on tv. during the commercial, dan leaned over to me and whispered, "this is the best part of the entire evening."
this is what i love best about dan. you can take all your fancy dinners, fancy clothes, entertaining people and stimulating conversation. dan would rather be alone with me. i don't know if this is a sickness on his part. i know i feel the same way. sure, there is a lot of very interesting things to do and see in the world, but what better place to be than snuggled up with the love of my life. i realize i gush, but can you tell me what is better than stretching your foot across the bed in the middle of the night and touch toes with your love? the man can still make me blush.
daniel, you are my love and my best friend. i am soooooo proud of you. you take such great care of me and your children. you have my admiration and my respect. for now and always. i love you to death, sparky!!!
12.03.2004
swimming in the deep river of denial
this is what i should be doing. i should be cleaning my house RIGHT NOW. the babysitter is coming early this afternoon so that dan and i can go out for the evening. this means i have about 3 hours to put my house in order. i am not moving. i am sitting here contemplating what needs to be done and where i should begin. really this is just procrastination, but i am pretending that i am forming a plan of action.
the boy's room. my son's room smells. smells bad. i don't know why or what is causing this smell. he has no food, no strange animals, no toxic chemicals and yet, his room has an odor. it is a combination of feet and pent-up energy. i asked dan this morning, "WHAT IS IT?" his reply, "boy." his room smells like boy, pure and simple and incredibly stinky.
evita's domain. picture a room in which you can't see the floor because of the 1,000's of hair clips, pretty ponies, polly pocket pieces, dental floss (all pulled out of the container) and my maxi pads (some opened, some not). i asked evita, "what is going on in here?" her reply, "i am working on something." ok. fine. WHAT IS IT AND WHY MUST ALL OF MY MAXI PADS BE INVOLVED?
the basement. oh fuck off. can't i just put caution tape across the stairs and deny entrance?
the kitchen. come on people, throw me a bone.
the living room. this i can handle. i simply will take an empty laundry basket, fill it with all the stuff from the living room, put this in the basement, and then run the vaccuum. there all done. that wasn't so bad. now that i am all done i can take a quick nap, put my feet up and eat some bon-bons. ahh, this is the life.
crap. ok, now i need to go and clean. don't ask me why i need to clean for the babysitter. if you are asking this question you simply are not insane enough to understand the inner workings of my twisted brain. don't you know that all babysitters secretly work for child protective services. they come to your house and once you leave they start their inspection. how clean is the house? are the children wearing clean clothes? do their rooms smell of feet? is there any decent food for these kids to eat?
true story: last time dan and i went out, upon returning home our babysitter greeted me with the following:
"yeah, um emma peed all over herself so i had to give her a bath." (shit, the tub is one place that i never clean before she comes. the bottom of the tub is full of empty shampoo bottles that nik must have and barbie heads that emma loves. there is hardly any room for kids at all.)
"and, um, i gave them a hot dog because i thought they should eat something besides cookies, chips and pop. hot dogs were the only things i could find." (fuck!!!!!! can someone please scrape me off the bottom of her shoe? am i the worst mother? obviously the answer is yes.)
"they were so hyper, probably from all the sugar, they totally crashed. and i couldn't find their pajama's."
i expect to hear from the authorities at any second. now do you see why i must participate in this charade that my house is always clean, as are the children and that i have provided healthy things for them to eat? now do you see? this is why i hate going out at all. what the fuck was dan thinking by making me go out on a friday night? why must i do this. cleaning and i must make myself presentable, as well. now do you see why i am just sitting here?
i am going to end it. i am going to go into nik's room and close the door. hopefully the fumes will do me in and i won't have to go tonight. farewell.......
the boy's room. my son's room smells. smells bad. i don't know why or what is causing this smell. he has no food, no strange animals, no toxic chemicals and yet, his room has an odor. it is a combination of feet and pent-up energy. i asked dan this morning, "WHAT IS IT?" his reply, "boy." his room smells like boy, pure and simple and incredibly stinky.
evita's domain. picture a room in which you can't see the floor because of the 1,000's of hair clips, pretty ponies, polly pocket pieces, dental floss (all pulled out of the container) and my maxi pads (some opened, some not). i asked evita, "what is going on in here?" her reply, "i am working on something." ok. fine. WHAT IS IT AND WHY MUST ALL OF MY MAXI PADS BE INVOLVED?
the basement. oh fuck off. can't i just put caution tape across the stairs and deny entrance?
the kitchen. come on people, throw me a bone.
the living room. this i can handle. i simply will take an empty laundry basket, fill it with all the stuff from the living room, put this in the basement, and then run the vaccuum. there all done. that wasn't so bad. now that i am all done i can take a quick nap, put my feet up and eat some bon-bons. ahh, this is the life.
crap. ok, now i need to go and clean. don't ask me why i need to clean for the babysitter. if you are asking this question you simply are not insane enough to understand the inner workings of my twisted brain. don't you know that all babysitters secretly work for child protective services. they come to your house and once you leave they start their inspection. how clean is the house? are the children wearing clean clothes? do their rooms smell of feet? is there any decent food for these kids to eat?
true story: last time dan and i went out, upon returning home our babysitter greeted me with the following:
"yeah, um emma peed all over herself so i had to give her a bath." (shit, the tub is one place that i never clean before she comes. the bottom of the tub is full of empty shampoo bottles that nik must have and barbie heads that emma loves. there is hardly any room for kids at all.)
"and, um, i gave them a hot dog because i thought they should eat something besides cookies, chips and pop. hot dogs were the only things i could find." (fuck!!!!!! can someone please scrape me off the bottom of her shoe? am i the worst mother? obviously the answer is yes.)
"they were so hyper, probably from all the sugar, they totally crashed. and i couldn't find their pajama's."
i expect to hear from the authorities at any second. now do you see why i must participate in this charade that my house is always clean, as are the children and that i have provided healthy things for them to eat? now do you see? this is why i hate going out at all. what the fuck was dan thinking by making me go out on a friday night? why must i do this. cleaning and i must make myself presentable, as well. now do you see why i am just sitting here?
i am going to end it. i am going to go into nik's room and close the door. hopefully the fumes will do me in and i won't have to go tonight. farewell.......
12.02.2004
take my husband, PLEASE
these are things about dan that cause me to dream about putting a steak knife in his neck and collecting the insurance money:
he spends 20 minutes in the shower EVERY SINGLE DAY. what the fuck is he doing in there? fuck if i know!
when i announce that the house is filthy and everyone must help me clean, dan decides this is a perfect time to start cleaning his office, or even better, the junk drawer. i nearly killed him before thanksgiving when i am scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees and he comes to me with the following: "hey, why the hell do we have 'icing that writes' in the house? do we really need this? there must be 3 packages of this crap in the drawer. and what about all those screws? what is up with that? are you saving them for some craft project with the kids. boy there sure is a lot of junk in that drawer!" no shit, it is a junk drawer.
at least 3 mornings every week dan will ask, "do i have any clean socks?" while looking in his sock drawer. as if i am the keeper of all clean socks. mine, they are all mine, hee hee hee! i am not sharing!
he insists, REALLY INSISTS that his nighttable be free of all "kid debris" no action figures, no hair clips, no "notes" no nothing! he must remove all items every night before he goes to sleep. why? there must be room for the laptop, cell phone, iPod, MacWorld magazine, dental floss and about 1,000 receipts from various purchases including a sub sandwhich, cd, socks (a silent protest against me) and various parts of computer equipment.
he puts my bras in the drier -- AFTER LIVING TOGETHER FOR 12 YEARS! DOES HE NOT KNOW THIS BY NOW!!!!
in the morning, when i am running around like a headless chicken, attempting to get the kids ready for school without killing them, he will stand in the middle of the hallway and ask: "what can i do?" capture the naked girl that just ran past you and put some underwear on her. or, take the toothpaste away from your son before he eats the entire tube.
he will come home from work and find me in a puddle of tears and ask, "what is the deal with dinner?"
this is how he saves himself from death:
toilet seat is always down.
trips to taco bell at 1:30 am.
new roll of toilet paper on holder.
brings home chai tea from starbucks -- venti-sized.
flowers for no reason.
diamond ring.
absolute devotion to his family.
folds clean laundry.
puts clean laundry away.
sings to me in the shower.
loves me UNCONDITIONALLY.
buys new sponges for kitchen sink.
puts kids to bed regularly.
reads to his kids, and likes it.
fills my gas tank, and wiper fluid.
tucks me into bed.
puts my clean pj's under my pillow.
ok, i guess i will keep him. i just needed to vent.....
he spends 20 minutes in the shower EVERY SINGLE DAY. what the fuck is he doing in there? fuck if i know!
when i announce that the house is filthy and everyone must help me clean, dan decides this is a perfect time to start cleaning his office, or even better, the junk drawer. i nearly killed him before thanksgiving when i am scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees and he comes to me with the following: "hey, why the hell do we have 'icing that writes' in the house? do we really need this? there must be 3 packages of this crap in the drawer. and what about all those screws? what is up with that? are you saving them for some craft project with the kids. boy there sure is a lot of junk in that drawer!" no shit, it is a junk drawer.
at least 3 mornings every week dan will ask, "do i have any clean socks?" while looking in his sock drawer. as if i am the keeper of all clean socks. mine, they are all mine, hee hee hee! i am not sharing!
he insists, REALLY INSISTS that his nighttable be free of all "kid debris" no action figures, no hair clips, no "notes" no nothing! he must remove all items every night before he goes to sleep. why? there must be room for the laptop, cell phone, iPod, MacWorld magazine, dental floss and about 1,000 receipts from various purchases including a sub sandwhich, cd, socks (a silent protest against me) and various parts of computer equipment.
he puts my bras in the drier -- AFTER LIVING TOGETHER FOR 12 YEARS! DOES HE NOT KNOW THIS BY NOW!!!!
in the morning, when i am running around like a headless chicken, attempting to get the kids ready for school without killing them, he will stand in the middle of the hallway and ask: "what can i do?" capture the naked girl that just ran past you and put some underwear on her. or, take the toothpaste away from your son before he eats the entire tube.
he will come home from work and find me in a puddle of tears and ask, "what is the deal with dinner?"
this is how he saves himself from death:
toilet seat is always down.
trips to taco bell at 1:30 am.
new roll of toilet paper on holder.
brings home chai tea from starbucks -- venti-sized.
flowers for no reason.
diamond ring.
absolute devotion to his family.
folds clean laundry.
puts clean laundry away.
sings to me in the shower.
loves me UNCONDITIONALLY.
buys new sponges for kitchen sink.
puts kids to bed regularly.
reads to his kids, and likes it.
fills my gas tank, and wiper fluid.
tucks me into bed.
puts my clean pj's under my pillow.
ok, i guess i will keep him. i just needed to vent.....
12.01.2004
wwjd?
let me start by saying i am a roman catholic. i want this to be very clear. i wasn't born a catholic. far from it. my parents, both raised catholic, decided that it was in their children's best interest to not inforce any set beliefs onto their kid's young minds. instead, my parents preached education and world travel. they expected my sister and i to go to college, get a degree, travel thru europe and then move out on our own. marriage and children were never mentioned. my mother's thought was, "why marry? go see italy before it falls into the ocean. children? i didn't even have you until i was 36. by then i had a job and a plan for my life. surely your plan involves something other than getting married?"
um, well, it did. my perfect sister did exactly what was expected of her. she did go away to school (4 years at UofM and didn't see a single football game, much to the old man's chagrin). after graduation, she did travel for 2 months thru europe, got a fashionable haircut and slept on a boat in Amsterdam that carried in hash, and drank her way thru germany. upon returning home, she promptly moved out of my folk's house into a house with her boyfriend. the same boyfriend that she later married some 10 years later, once she was 5 months pregnant. never once did religion play a role in her life. her husband is jewish, but never saw the inside of a synagoge. since her children have expressed an interest, she provides both a christmas tree and a menora. although, she says that christmas trees have nothing to do with "all that jesus crap."
all that jesus crap.
well, i was supposed to follow her example. however, when i was 6 my dad's mother came to live with us. at the time, she had terminal cancer and had decided that she did not want to die in a hospital. she had been a devout catholic her whole life, and i can imagine it was hard for her to see her oldest son did not share her passion for a religious life. my grandmother never spoke to me about religion, but her religion surrounded her. her home was full of religious statues, she attended mass daily, and when she was living with us she brought the aura of her religion with her. her faith was so much a part of her. it was not something she separated from herself. instead her faith was simply part of her genetic makeup. i would always check on her after i returned home from school and i would often find her quietly praying the rosary. when i would ask her what that necklace was, she simply replied, "oh, just some faith beads." the faith beads were quickly tucked away under her blanket. she respected that my parents did not want me undully influenced into any faith. there was always an air of respect between my deeply religious grandmother and my communist parents.
those were the days. the whole idea of respecting someone's opinion, EVEN IF IT DIFFERS FROM YOURS is non-existant now.
i did not undertake my coversion to catholicism easily. it took a total of 3 1/2 years for the entire process to end. and it is not really an ending, but rather a beginning of my religious life. i spent most of those 3 plus years learning about the church's views on various issues. i wanted to understand why the church felt the way it does. part of me was afraid that i would become a right-wing religious nut. i feared becoming one of those hated women who stand out in front of abortion clinics, holding up a poster of a fetus. or, i would start questioning the right of men to live with men and raise children. i actually lost sleep thinking i was going to completely change who i was as a person.
i did change. completely. but not the way i thought i would. i am catholic. in fact, i am the church's worst nightmare. i am pro-choice, believe in birth control, don't give a shit about gay people getting married or having children AND i understand the church's views on such social issues. i have actually read the catechism that shapes the church's teachings AND i respect their position. it just has not become my position. i really do pray twice daily. i spend that time thanking god for my blessings and asking for help. not to make me that catholic the church feels i should be, but help to make me more like my grandmother. i don't want my faith to be something separate from my daily life, but rather part of my daily life. i don't have to go around converting every one around me. if someone asks me, i have no problem saying i am a catholic. but, don't ask me to defend my beliefs or my church. my faith is mine and mine alone.
i didn't try this religion on for size. i have made a committment to this faith, for me and my family. religion has become such a touchy subject, mostly because people try and convince you that their faith is the best or the only path to god. i can't tell other people what to believe. i don't even like to tell people why i choose the path i did. all i can say is that it is between me and jesus.
and yes, i do have a personal relationship with the son of my savior. and why shouldn't i? he brings me great comfort. who else can comfort me when i am wallowing in self-pity, overwhelmed by parenthood, frustrated at being me? good old, JC! can i get a whoop whoop for the big guy? i find it annoying when i hear people say that jesus instructed them to do such and such. as if jesus has nothing better to do then tell miserable, petty people that they should openly pass judgement on the world around them. yeah, that's the message i hear in church every week: "be mean and petty. judge those around you. hold humanity in contempt. be vocal about your hate." wwjd? i shudder to think what he would make of the world today.
of course, the 3 plus years that i studied to become catholic were really hard on my parents, who feared what would become of me. well, i survived and so did they. no, i am not going to attempt to bring them back to the church, even if it would get me bonus points with god. just as they are happy without god in their lives, i am happy with god in my life. what i have become is less tolerant of those "religious" people who make a showcase of their religion at the expense of people around them. i ask to be more understanding and patient with humanity in general, but these people push my buttons.
what can i say, i am a work in progress. hey, even the world took a few days and we are still working out the kinks.
um, well, it did. my perfect sister did exactly what was expected of her. she did go away to school (4 years at UofM and didn't see a single football game, much to the old man's chagrin). after graduation, she did travel for 2 months thru europe, got a fashionable haircut and slept on a boat in Amsterdam that carried in hash, and drank her way thru germany. upon returning home, she promptly moved out of my folk's house into a house with her boyfriend. the same boyfriend that she later married some 10 years later, once she was 5 months pregnant. never once did religion play a role in her life. her husband is jewish, but never saw the inside of a synagoge. since her children have expressed an interest, she provides both a christmas tree and a menora. although, she says that christmas trees have nothing to do with "all that jesus crap."
all that jesus crap.
well, i was supposed to follow her example. however, when i was 6 my dad's mother came to live with us. at the time, she had terminal cancer and had decided that she did not want to die in a hospital. she had been a devout catholic her whole life, and i can imagine it was hard for her to see her oldest son did not share her passion for a religious life. my grandmother never spoke to me about religion, but her religion surrounded her. her home was full of religious statues, she attended mass daily, and when she was living with us she brought the aura of her religion with her. her faith was so much a part of her. it was not something she separated from herself. instead her faith was simply part of her genetic makeup. i would always check on her after i returned home from school and i would often find her quietly praying the rosary. when i would ask her what that necklace was, she simply replied, "oh, just some faith beads." the faith beads were quickly tucked away under her blanket. she respected that my parents did not want me undully influenced into any faith. there was always an air of respect between my deeply religious grandmother and my communist parents.
those were the days. the whole idea of respecting someone's opinion, EVEN IF IT DIFFERS FROM YOURS is non-existant now.
i did not undertake my coversion to catholicism easily. it took a total of 3 1/2 years for the entire process to end. and it is not really an ending, but rather a beginning of my religious life. i spent most of those 3 plus years learning about the church's views on various issues. i wanted to understand why the church felt the way it does. part of me was afraid that i would become a right-wing religious nut. i feared becoming one of those hated women who stand out in front of abortion clinics, holding up a poster of a fetus. or, i would start questioning the right of men to live with men and raise children. i actually lost sleep thinking i was going to completely change who i was as a person.
i did change. completely. but not the way i thought i would. i am catholic. in fact, i am the church's worst nightmare. i am pro-choice, believe in birth control, don't give a shit about gay people getting married or having children AND i understand the church's views on such social issues. i have actually read the catechism that shapes the church's teachings AND i respect their position. it just has not become my position. i really do pray twice daily. i spend that time thanking god for my blessings and asking for help. not to make me that catholic the church feels i should be, but help to make me more like my grandmother. i don't want my faith to be something separate from my daily life, but rather part of my daily life. i don't have to go around converting every one around me. if someone asks me, i have no problem saying i am a catholic. but, don't ask me to defend my beliefs or my church. my faith is mine and mine alone.
i didn't try this religion on for size. i have made a committment to this faith, for me and my family. religion has become such a touchy subject, mostly because people try and convince you that their faith is the best or the only path to god. i can't tell other people what to believe. i don't even like to tell people why i choose the path i did. all i can say is that it is between me and jesus.
and yes, i do have a personal relationship with the son of my savior. and why shouldn't i? he brings me great comfort. who else can comfort me when i am wallowing in self-pity, overwhelmed by parenthood, frustrated at being me? good old, JC! can i get a whoop whoop for the big guy? i find it annoying when i hear people say that jesus instructed them to do such and such. as if jesus has nothing better to do then tell miserable, petty people that they should openly pass judgement on the world around them. yeah, that's the message i hear in church every week: "be mean and petty. judge those around you. hold humanity in contempt. be vocal about your hate." wwjd? i shudder to think what he would make of the world today.
of course, the 3 plus years that i studied to become catholic were really hard on my parents, who feared what would become of me. well, i survived and so did they. no, i am not going to attempt to bring them back to the church, even if it would get me bonus points with god. just as they are happy without god in their lives, i am happy with god in my life. what i have become is less tolerant of those "religious" people who make a showcase of their religion at the expense of people around them. i ask to be more understanding and patient with humanity in general, but these people push my buttons.
what can i say, i am a work in progress. hey, even the world took a few days and we are still working out the kinks.
11.26.2004
me and the old man
it is early thanksgiving morning, and although i am hosting thanksgiving dinner at my house, my father has insisted that he be the one to prepare the bird. we aren't eating until 2, so dad is over at 9 am to get things going. i greet him at the door in my pajama's, looking like i have been on a bender. "you wanted to do this, remember?" is his way of saying hello. i quickly turn him over to my husband in the kitchen. dan will be responsible for informing dad where he can find a decent knife because he forgot to bring his own. he does bring his own carrots, onion and celery because i can't be trusted to have these things available. dan will also be there to open various cabinets and drawers, since i haven't choosen my kitchen knobs yet. "well, i would like to throw out this turkey bag without spilling the blood all over the floor, but i can't find the garbage" is dad's way of asking dan where we keep our garbage can. turkey blood is all over my floor anyway, but dan is there with the bleach to clean up behind my dad. i am hiding in the basement with the children pretending to be cleaning. when i do climb up from my safe spot i meet my father in the kitchen about to pour coffee into a measuring cup because he can't find any coffee mugs, if we even have such a thing. i quickly produce a cup for him without saying a word. i keep telling myself, let it go. this is my first holiday without zoloft in 3 years. let it go.
my dad is an extremely intelligent man. dan says, "wicked smart." that's no lie. dad tells me about a movie he and my mom saw recently. i understood this movie to be one of those, "man redeems himself before death" stories. not so. according to dad, this was an attack on modern society and that all the world's problems can be solved with a solid dose of capitalism. corruption rules! my dad said that this movie should be on rush limbau's must see list. his commentary on this movie runs for about 10 minutes. i have nothing to add to the discussion. not only have i not seen the movie, but i don't understand what my dad is even talking about. i continue to nod and drink my tea, my head swimming with possible comments. anything that won't make me sound like a complete fool. after all these years, i am still incredibly intimidated by my father. i so desperately want him to think i am smart. in the past, when my dad and i have attempted conversations like this, i end up making some stupid insepid little comment to which my father responds with a shaking of his head and a deep resigned sigh as if saying, "how is this my child?" i pray that he won't ask me any questions and my wish is granted. he is deep in thought, probably about the inadaquacy of my oven size or lack of proper tin foil.
"no parade today?" this innocent question holds so many hidden meanings you would need a complete labotomy if i attempted to give you the entire family history. no, we did not take the kids to the parade. i am too lazy. and yes, EVERY SINGLE YEAR my father took me to the parade. he was more reliable than a mailman. thru rain, snow, or sleet -- dad took me to the parade. i knew what was coming. the story about the year that he nearly caught pnemonia taking me to the parade in the freezing rain. the temperature was about 4, the roads were covered with ice from the freezing rain that continued to pour down during the entire parade. dad wore his down coat which became the cloak of death. luckily, he had found a spot for us right in front of a bar. halfway during the parade he tapped my leg and said, "stay here. i will be right back." where was i going to go? dad had put me on top of his homemade scaffolding. he went into the bar and asked the bartender for a cup of coffee. the bartender took pity on my father and also provided a shot of bourbon free of charge. on the ride home i asked my dad if he thought the parade was as good as i did. "sure" was his reply. it wasn't until i was an adult that i understood that adults, parents in particular, don't always have a good time at things like parks, parades or the circus. there is so much that children don't understand about being the grown up: the person who drives, has to find the parking spot, carries the ladders and the large sheet of plywood, finds a decent spot, creates the viewing area, puts the child on the scaffolding, and then proceeds to wait thru the parade in the cold and freezing rain. not once did he try and convince me to go home early, or even discourage me from going at all. not once did he complain about being cold or bored. the resentment was there, but it was quiet and restrained. it was the kind of tension that kept me from bothering him. it was understood that i was to simply enjoy myself, by myself.
my old man. now i am an adult, married with a family of my own. yet, i am still that little 7 year old girl. i understand my job is to be quiet around him. to find a decent bowl to hold the potatos, supply coffee, have extra cans of chicken broth available -- this is my role this thanksgiving. all of a sudden my dad turns to me and says, "you know that bar we were in from of that one parade...the one where i nearly died?" he proceeds to share a story with me about he and his friend sitting in that bar looking out on jefferson avenue. all of a sudden a man passed the front window. my father turned to his friend and said, "did you see who that was?" his friend nodded and answered, "that was dick williams." dick had been my father's best friend and had died suddenly 5 years earlier. it was an extremely difficult death for my dad, one from which he has never recovered. dick is remembered fondly by my dad, but ony rarely and not for very long. it remains too painful for him. my dad says to me, "can you believe it. dick williams right there on jefferson avenue. dead for 5 years. didn't even stop in for a drink." he turns away from me, but i can see the tears.
all i can do is smile. to reach out and touch him would make him feel awkward and uncomfortable. that is something that we don't do in our family. sudden bursts of emotion are not met with comfort and hugs. instead we prefer conversations involving food or driving directions. "dad, do you think i have enough chicken broth?" this was his reponse:
"jesus, why do you buy these big cans. just buy the little cans. if you buy these big cans, then you have to use the whole can at once. don't tell me you can save it. it loses all the flavor if left in the fridge. where is your funnel? what do you mean you don't have a funnel. well, i will make do, but if this dinner doesn't turn out right i will just have to tell everyone that you didn't have the funnel."
ok dad. by the way, the dinner was delicious. and i made sure he took all the credit.
my dad is an extremely intelligent man. dan says, "wicked smart." that's no lie. dad tells me about a movie he and my mom saw recently. i understood this movie to be one of those, "man redeems himself before death" stories. not so. according to dad, this was an attack on modern society and that all the world's problems can be solved with a solid dose of capitalism. corruption rules! my dad said that this movie should be on rush limbau's must see list. his commentary on this movie runs for about 10 minutes. i have nothing to add to the discussion. not only have i not seen the movie, but i don't understand what my dad is even talking about. i continue to nod and drink my tea, my head swimming with possible comments. anything that won't make me sound like a complete fool. after all these years, i am still incredibly intimidated by my father. i so desperately want him to think i am smart. in the past, when my dad and i have attempted conversations like this, i end up making some stupid insepid little comment to which my father responds with a shaking of his head and a deep resigned sigh as if saying, "how is this my child?" i pray that he won't ask me any questions and my wish is granted. he is deep in thought, probably about the inadaquacy of my oven size or lack of proper tin foil.
"no parade today?" this innocent question holds so many hidden meanings you would need a complete labotomy if i attempted to give you the entire family history. no, we did not take the kids to the parade. i am too lazy. and yes, EVERY SINGLE YEAR my father took me to the parade. he was more reliable than a mailman. thru rain, snow, or sleet -- dad took me to the parade. i knew what was coming. the story about the year that he nearly caught pnemonia taking me to the parade in the freezing rain. the temperature was about 4, the roads were covered with ice from the freezing rain that continued to pour down during the entire parade. dad wore his down coat which became the cloak of death. luckily, he had found a spot for us right in front of a bar. halfway during the parade he tapped my leg and said, "stay here. i will be right back." where was i going to go? dad had put me on top of his homemade scaffolding. he went into the bar and asked the bartender for a cup of coffee. the bartender took pity on my father and also provided a shot of bourbon free of charge. on the ride home i asked my dad if he thought the parade was as good as i did. "sure" was his reply. it wasn't until i was an adult that i understood that adults, parents in particular, don't always have a good time at things like parks, parades or the circus. there is so much that children don't understand about being the grown up: the person who drives, has to find the parking spot, carries the ladders and the large sheet of plywood, finds a decent spot, creates the viewing area, puts the child on the scaffolding, and then proceeds to wait thru the parade in the cold and freezing rain. not once did he try and convince me to go home early, or even discourage me from going at all. not once did he complain about being cold or bored. the resentment was there, but it was quiet and restrained. it was the kind of tension that kept me from bothering him. it was understood that i was to simply enjoy myself, by myself.
my old man. now i am an adult, married with a family of my own. yet, i am still that little 7 year old girl. i understand my job is to be quiet around him. to find a decent bowl to hold the potatos, supply coffee, have extra cans of chicken broth available -- this is my role this thanksgiving. all of a sudden my dad turns to me and says, "you know that bar we were in from of that one parade...the one where i nearly died?" he proceeds to share a story with me about he and his friend sitting in that bar looking out on jefferson avenue. all of a sudden a man passed the front window. my father turned to his friend and said, "did you see who that was?" his friend nodded and answered, "that was dick williams." dick had been my father's best friend and had died suddenly 5 years earlier. it was an extremely difficult death for my dad, one from which he has never recovered. dick is remembered fondly by my dad, but ony rarely and not for very long. it remains too painful for him. my dad says to me, "can you believe it. dick williams right there on jefferson avenue. dead for 5 years. didn't even stop in for a drink." he turns away from me, but i can see the tears.
all i can do is smile. to reach out and touch him would make him feel awkward and uncomfortable. that is something that we don't do in our family. sudden bursts of emotion are not met with comfort and hugs. instead we prefer conversations involving food or driving directions. "dad, do you think i have enough chicken broth?" this was his reponse:
"jesus, why do you buy these big cans. just buy the little cans. if you buy these big cans, then you have to use the whole can at once. don't tell me you can save it. it loses all the flavor if left in the fridge. where is your funnel? what do you mean you don't have a funnel. well, i will make do, but if this dinner doesn't turn out right i will just have to tell everyone that you didn't have the funnel."
ok dad. by the way, the dinner was delicious. and i made sure he took all the credit.
11.22.2004
yo mama no love you no mo
it is official. my mother does not love me anymore. i knew this would happen. in fact, i have just been waiting for it to happen. and now it has....
i was at my breaking point on sunday morning. it had been a loooooong week riddled with extra "harvest feast" stress with a deadly combo of drama thrown in. by friday evening i was in tears, ready to put on my p.j.'s and stay in them for the next 2 weeks. on sunday dan expected me to attend a reunion luncheon with a friend of his that he hadn't spoken to in 13 years. now we were to have lunch with he and his wonderful wife. why did i have to go? i didn't know this person. i didn't go to the wedding. why the fuck should i have to shower, shave (like they would be checking my armpits, no i didn't shave my legs--my own personal protest), wear make-up, attempt a "do" with my hair, AND FIND DECENT CLOTHES THAT WOULD BOTH COVER MY ASS AND BE CLEAN.
come on, i love my dan, but he was asking for trouble by making me do this. my mother calls to check in with me, "well, everything ok, hon?" NO! i am not fine for fuck's sake. i am angry. i am just so done with doing things for other people. look, i know how awful i sound, but fuck that. i am sick of getting shit together to put in my car and drive it somewhere else. fucking harvest feasts. i am done driving in rush hour traffic to my parents house with 2 high-strung nutcases to pick up a turkey, only to be told when i arrive that my kids are acting "kind of wild" and that i didn't need to pick up the bird after all. FUCK THAT GIMME THE TURKEY FOR FUCK'S SAKE.
are you getting the impression i am just a little fed up with all of humanity? well, i am. so now i have got to dress-up and showcase myself as "dan's wife." oh, fuck me. just what i want to do. smile, make small talk with strangers and hope my fancy face isn't melting. i am explaining to my mother --- this is the woman who gave birth to me --- that i want to stay home in my sweatpants. the stress of this event is too much, i am not up to being charming with strangers. my mom --- keep in mind this is my mother, the woman who is supposed to love me --- then says the following.
picture yourself on the other end of the phone, mouth open in schock, too stunned to reply which makes her fire-off these little nibbles of advice with such force that i am left completely speechless.....
"YOU ARE IN A FAT PHASE NOW"
"JOIN THE Y AND GET SOME EXERCISE"
"I KNOW YOU DON'T EAT WELL"
"DID YOU THROW OUT ALL THAT HALLOWEEN CANDY, YET"
"IF YOU ARE NEGATIVE, YOU WILL LOOK NEGATIVE TO PEOPLE AROUND YOU"
"I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU ARE SO HARD ON YOURSELF"
"TAKE A HOT SHOWER AND PUT ON SOME LIPSTICK"
"DO YOU EVEN HAVE LIPSTICK ANYMORE"
"MAYBE YOU NEED TO BUY CLOTHES THAT WILL FIT YOU"
"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE SO MUCH LAUNDRY"
"YOU WEAR THE SAME THING ALL THE TIME, WHY DON'T YOU HAVE ANY CLEAN CLOTHES"
"IF YOU DIDN'T SPEND SO MUCH TIME AT THE SCHOOL, THEN YOU COULD GET YOUR CHORES DONE AROUND THE HOUSE"
"YOU SHOULD GET OUT AND MEET SOME PEOPLE"
"DON'T BE SO SHY"
"TRY TO SMILE, IT WILL LIGHTEN YOUR FACE" (note: i don't know what this means)
"YOU DON'T HAVE ANY REAL PROBLEMS"
"WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU"
"DANIEL DOESN'T ASK MUCH OF YOU, DO THIS FOR HIM"
"YOU ARE SO LUCKY TO BE MARRIED TO A MAN LIKE DAN"
"WHY CAN'T YOU HELP HIM OUT, REMEMBER HE IS UNDER TREMENDOUS PRESSURE RIGHT NOW"
"DAN IS SO WONDERFUL, THINK OF HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO BE MARRIED TO HIM"
"I AM SURE DAN WOULD DO THIS FOR YOU"
"GET SOME EXERCISE, YOU WILL FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF"
"WHY ARE YOU SO DOWN ON YOURSELF"
why indeed? i knew that when dan's parent's completely rejected him that my parents would step right in and become his parents. in fact, they refer to dan as their son, not a son-in-law, but as their son. i have always considered myself lucky that my parents love dan. i just didn't think that their love of me would be the price i pay.
fine....deep breath. i can do this. i will not let this get me down. i am going to be ok. i have parent teacher conferences tonight. it will be fine. nik is a beautiful, charming, intelligent boy (true story: my mother after describing how wonderful nik is actually said, "JUST LIKE HIS WONDERFUL FATHER"). deep breath. calm calm calm. i so want to climb into bed and wrap my fat around me like a little love cocoon. just me and my cellulite. a match made in heaven.
that's ok, cooper thinks i rock. and he could care less how full my saddle bags are. and, his attitude is much better than my mother's. why shower, shave and put on lipstick. let's just climb onto the couch, eat an entire bag of mini carrots and fall asleep while watching british parliment on c-span.
i was at my breaking point on sunday morning. it had been a loooooong week riddled with extra "harvest feast" stress with a deadly combo of drama thrown in. by friday evening i was in tears, ready to put on my p.j.'s and stay in them for the next 2 weeks. on sunday dan expected me to attend a reunion luncheon with a friend of his that he hadn't spoken to in 13 years. now we were to have lunch with he and his wonderful wife. why did i have to go? i didn't know this person. i didn't go to the wedding. why the fuck should i have to shower, shave (like they would be checking my armpits, no i didn't shave my legs--my own personal protest), wear make-up, attempt a "do" with my hair, AND FIND DECENT CLOTHES THAT WOULD BOTH COVER MY ASS AND BE CLEAN.
come on, i love my dan, but he was asking for trouble by making me do this. my mother calls to check in with me, "well, everything ok, hon?" NO! i am not fine for fuck's sake. i am angry. i am just so done with doing things for other people. look, i know how awful i sound, but fuck that. i am sick of getting shit together to put in my car and drive it somewhere else. fucking harvest feasts. i am done driving in rush hour traffic to my parents house with 2 high-strung nutcases to pick up a turkey, only to be told when i arrive that my kids are acting "kind of wild" and that i didn't need to pick up the bird after all. FUCK THAT GIMME THE TURKEY FOR FUCK'S SAKE.
are you getting the impression i am just a little fed up with all of humanity? well, i am. so now i have got to dress-up and showcase myself as "dan's wife." oh, fuck me. just what i want to do. smile, make small talk with strangers and hope my fancy face isn't melting. i am explaining to my mother --- this is the woman who gave birth to me --- that i want to stay home in my sweatpants. the stress of this event is too much, i am not up to being charming with strangers. my mom --- keep in mind this is my mother, the woman who is supposed to love me --- then says the following.
picture yourself on the other end of the phone, mouth open in schock, too stunned to reply which makes her fire-off these little nibbles of advice with such force that i am left completely speechless.....
"YOU ARE IN A FAT PHASE NOW"
"JOIN THE Y AND GET SOME EXERCISE"
"I KNOW YOU DON'T EAT WELL"
"DID YOU THROW OUT ALL THAT HALLOWEEN CANDY, YET"
"IF YOU ARE NEGATIVE, YOU WILL LOOK NEGATIVE TO PEOPLE AROUND YOU"
"I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU ARE SO HARD ON YOURSELF"
"TAKE A HOT SHOWER AND PUT ON SOME LIPSTICK"
"DO YOU EVEN HAVE LIPSTICK ANYMORE"
"MAYBE YOU NEED TO BUY CLOTHES THAT WILL FIT YOU"
"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE SO MUCH LAUNDRY"
"YOU WEAR THE SAME THING ALL THE TIME, WHY DON'T YOU HAVE ANY CLEAN CLOTHES"
"IF YOU DIDN'T SPEND SO MUCH TIME AT THE SCHOOL, THEN YOU COULD GET YOUR CHORES DONE AROUND THE HOUSE"
"YOU SHOULD GET OUT AND MEET SOME PEOPLE"
"DON'T BE SO SHY"
"TRY TO SMILE, IT WILL LIGHTEN YOUR FACE" (note: i don't know what this means)
"YOU DON'T HAVE ANY REAL PROBLEMS"
"WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU"
"DANIEL DOESN'T ASK MUCH OF YOU, DO THIS FOR HIM"
"YOU ARE SO LUCKY TO BE MARRIED TO A MAN LIKE DAN"
"WHY CAN'T YOU HELP HIM OUT, REMEMBER HE IS UNDER TREMENDOUS PRESSURE RIGHT NOW"
"DAN IS SO WONDERFUL, THINK OF HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO BE MARRIED TO HIM"
"I AM SURE DAN WOULD DO THIS FOR YOU"
"GET SOME EXERCISE, YOU WILL FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF"
"WHY ARE YOU SO DOWN ON YOURSELF"
why indeed? i knew that when dan's parent's completely rejected him that my parents would step right in and become his parents. in fact, they refer to dan as their son, not a son-in-law, but as their son. i have always considered myself lucky that my parents love dan. i just didn't think that their love of me would be the price i pay.
fine....deep breath. i can do this. i will not let this get me down. i am going to be ok. i have parent teacher conferences tonight. it will be fine. nik is a beautiful, charming, intelligent boy (true story: my mother after describing how wonderful nik is actually said, "JUST LIKE HIS WONDERFUL FATHER"). deep breath. calm calm calm. i so want to climb into bed and wrap my fat around me like a little love cocoon. just me and my cellulite. a match made in heaven.
that's ok, cooper thinks i rock. and he could care less how full my saddle bags are. and, his attitude is much better than my mother's. why shower, shave and put on lipstick. let's just climb onto the couch, eat an entire bag of mini carrots and fall asleep while watching british parliment on c-span.
11.14.2004
don't eat the paint, baby
all art projects in my house involve someone attempting (sometimes successfully) to consume paint, glue, or playdough. it is very common to hear me say, "hey, that paint looks better on your picture than on your teeth." or, "don't eat the glue, your stomach will close up and you won't be able to eat candy ever again." these empty threats are met with a smirk.
emma survived her birthday party, although i feel as if i am now harboring a tapeworm. she seemed really surprised that people brought her gifts, "why did my friends give me all these pretty things? did you see all the pretty hair things?" yes, i did see all the pretty hair things. after saturday i believe the total amount of hairclips emma has now reaches into the thousands. my feet hurt just looking at them. i can hardly wait to pry these little weapons of mass destruction out from the heels of my feet. the party has made emma love her friends even more, and has brought out a generous side of her. "i am going to make kate this pretty picture because she gave me the dora doll at my party." is this my child? her good mood has lasted all day and has even extended itself to her brother. "nik, come play with my new dolls, do you want to play in my new tent, why don't we get you a new tent, too." dan and i stood frozen in the hallway. did she just ask her brother to play? is that emma?
aren't we awful. instead of celebrating this step of maturity in our daughter, we doubt. we are suspicious. if you knew evita the way we do, you too would be skeptical.
i have made a decision....thanksgiving is my new favorite holiday, replacing halloween. i just like the name. and any holiday that the main focus is food is perfect for me and my big fat ass. the candy of halloween is always nice, but there is just something so warm and fuzzy about a holiday that carries over to the next day and involves me eating cold stuffing in my p.j.'s. and what other holiday allows you to eat green bean cassarole for 3 days (p.j.'s now replaced with sweatpants.)?
thanksgiving also has a peanuts special. thanksgiving, you are the shit!
emma survived her birthday party, although i feel as if i am now harboring a tapeworm. she seemed really surprised that people brought her gifts, "why did my friends give me all these pretty things? did you see all the pretty hair things?" yes, i did see all the pretty hair things. after saturday i believe the total amount of hairclips emma has now reaches into the thousands. my feet hurt just looking at them. i can hardly wait to pry these little weapons of mass destruction out from the heels of my feet. the party has made emma love her friends even more, and has brought out a generous side of her. "i am going to make kate this pretty picture because she gave me the dora doll at my party." is this my child? her good mood has lasted all day and has even extended itself to her brother. "nik, come play with my new dolls, do you want to play in my new tent, why don't we get you a new tent, too." dan and i stood frozen in the hallway. did she just ask her brother to play? is that emma?
aren't we awful. instead of celebrating this step of maturity in our daughter, we doubt. we are suspicious. if you knew evita the way we do, you too would be skeptical.
i have made a decision....thanksgiving is my new favorite holiday, replacing halloween. i just like the name. and any holiday that the main focus is food is perfect for me and my big fat ass. the candy of halloween is always nice, but there is just something so warm and fuzzy about a holiday that carries over to the next day and involves me eating cold stuffing in my p.j.'s. and what other holiday allows you to eat green bean cassarole for 3 days (p.j.'s now replaced with sweatpants.)?
thanksgiving also has a peanuts special. thanksgiving, you are the shit!
11.10.2004
anybody seen my anxiety?
dan says that he can tell when i am in a very deep state of denial because i engage in "unusual behavior involving our pets." let me explain, emma will be turning 4 this saturday and will be having her first real birthday party. i know some mothers would consider me unfit for not having thrown her both a disney princess birthday and an american girl birthday party already. call protective services! so now we are having 5 of her loudest, cutest, wildest girlfriends over for 2 hours of "scream-a-palooza" fueled by an intense sugar-buzz. and of course, like a fool, i have also included siblings. so really i am looking at having about 15 kids, aged 3 - 13 in my house on saturday afternoon.
i am fully aware that there are things i need to be doing to prepare for this epic event, but somehow i haven't given it much thought. i can see all the piles of laundry to be put away, the vaccuming that needs to be done, the filth in the bathroom screaming at me, and yet....i do nothing. or rather, i do other things......
dan found me in the bathroom giving cooper, our beloved dog a haircut and a bath. his response was, "oh god, you are really depressed."
what? i am not depressed. i feebly attempted to defend myself until he reminded me about the time that i was throwing a world cup party (that would be starting in the wee hours of the morning) and he found me giving our cats a bath. (may they rest in peace, and no it was not because of the bath. i did not pull a silkwood on them, despite what dan says.) needless to say, the world cup party was a huge success, so much so that i took a nap in the middle of the event.
for those of you unaware of the world cup, what can i tell you? you are really missing something.
i am sure emma's party will not be as stressful as predicted and i will survive, and not take a nap during the party. i am not stressed. i feel no tension. i am dreading this event. really......i am not.....it will be fine.....don't worry about me. now, if you will excuse me, cooper needs a blow out.
i am fully aware that there are things i need to be doing to prepare for this epic event, but somehow i haven't given it much thought. i can see all the piles of laundry to be put away, the vaccuming that needs to be done, the filth in the bathroom screaming at me, and yet....i do nothing. or rather, i do other things......
dan found me in the bathroom giving cooper, our beloved dog a haircut and a bath. his response was, "oh god, you are really depressed."
what? i am not depressed. i feebly attempted to defend myself until he reminded me about the time that i was throwing a world cup party (that would be starting in the wee hours of the morning) and he found me giving our cats a bath. (may they rest in peace, and no it was not because of the bath. i did not pull a silkwood on them, despite what dan says.) needless to say, the world cup party was a huge success, so much so that i took a nap in the middle of the event.
for those of you unaware of the world cup, what can i tell you? you are really missing something.
i am sure emma's party will not be as stressful as predicted and i will survive, and not take a nap during the party. i am not stressed. i feel no tension. i am dreading this event. really......i am not.....it will be fine.....don't worry about me. now, if you will excuse me, cooper needs a blow out.
11.06.2004
into this life a little rain must fall
being let down is a way of life. the love of my life is honestly surprised when he is faced with disappointment. he convinces himself something is always going to be as good as expected. and then he is heartsick when things aren't as good as he had hoped. this can be anything from the election to trying a taco pizza. he is so stunned when things don't turn out the way he had hoped.
i on the other hand am quite accustomed to being let down and disappointed. it starts every morning when i wake up. i think, ok--new beginning. a fresh start. a new day. things will be different today. then i realize we are out of bread and milk and this will be the day that i go to the supermarket. things don't really change. upon returning home from the grocery store i run for the bathroom, bladder about to explode, only to realize we are also out of toilet paper. funny how i didn't know this before i went to the store. things remain the same.
i make plans, try to be hopeful, but always am confronted with the ugly side of humanity. it amazes me how with one word, one inference a person can reduce me to tears. have i not learned by lesson? beware those who claim to be your friends...these people often do the most damage.
why is it that i am not surprised that this daily grind is my life, but i am truly shocked when someone hurts my feelings. do i expect more from people? these are the things i think about when cleaning my toilets, doing the laundry, cooking dinner (that no one but my husband will eat). what is it about some people who always fail you? i try to be positive and give people the benefit of the doubt, i make excuses for people, rationalize their bad behavior...and for what? to be left feeling angry? fuck that.
someone once told me: "people are stupid and it is always something." this shoe sure does fit. i will continue to try and be positive, but come on, let's get real here. misery loves company. i just don't want to be that companion anymore.
i on the other hand am quite accustomed to being let down and disappointed. it starts every morning when i wake up. i think, ok--new beginning. a fresh start. a new day. things will be different today. then i realize we are out of bread and milk and this will be the day that i go to the supermarket. things don't really change. upon returning home from the grocery store i run for the bathroom, bladder about to explode, only to realize we are also out of toilet paper. funny how i didn't know this before i went to the store. things remain the same.
i make plans, try to be hopeful, but always am confronted with the ugly side of humanity. it amazes me how with one word, one inference a person can reduce me to tears. have i not learned by lesson? beware those who claim to be your friends...these people often do the most damage.
why is it that i am not surprised that this daily grind is my life, but i am truly shocked when someone hurts my feelings. do i expect more from people? these are the things i think about when cleaning my toilets, doing the laundry, cooking dinner (that no one but my husband will eat). what is it about some people who always fail you? i try to be positive and give people the benefit of the doubt, i make excuses for people, rationalize their bad behavior...and for what? to be left feeling angry? fuck that.
someone once told me: "people are stupid and it is always something." this shoe sure does fit. i will continue to try and be positive, but come on, let's get real here. misery loves company. i just don't want to be that companion anymore.
11.02.2004
THE RETURN OF THE HERMIT CRABS
ahh yes, election day. this is the day that we wake up our children so that they can be part of the election process. and let me tell you there is nothing that puts a 3 year old in a bad mood quicker than waking her up at 6:30, getting her dressed, skipping her breakfast and making her wait in line (in the rain). what fun!
to kill time (and yes, we had plenty of it, since it took almost an hour to vote) i talked and talked to my babies about how important this day is, this is not a right, but an obligation to vote. i reminded them that this is the proudest moment you can have as an american by taking a small part in the giant political machine. one man, one vote. when the children would get restless (weren't we all restless--what is it about waiting in line that triggers my bladder) i would remind them that men and women faught wars and died so that we could exercise our duty by voting. there i am, caught up in the moment, reminding them that there was a time that not everyone could vote. i made serious eye contact with emma, as if to use mental telepathy, so that she (as a woman) would understand that voting is a relatively new thing for us chicks.
nik, being nik asked: "hey mom..did the FOUR FATHERS have to wait in line back then to vote?"
not about to be stumped, i replied (in a high-pitched ranting voice): "YES! it is a long tradition that we wait in a long and confusing line only to be yelled at by the hermit crabs and then finally get our ballot and cast our vote. my parents always brought me and now i intend to inflict this cruel tradition on to you and your sister!"
nik: "mom, (long pause) i am not sure if i want to ask you, but are you ok?"
me: "yes, i am just so proud to be an american."
with that, emma threw her bag of cheez-its into the air. as the cheez-its rained down on me one of the hermit crabs said, "maybe next time you will leave your children at home." i want you to know that i did not say the following in reply:
NEXT TIME, YOU'LL BE DEAD
hey, i did not say it, but i could of. i swear to god, if kerry doesn't win this election i am personally going to go to boston and knock his teeth out. nik is also hoping that kerry wins. i asked him why he likes kerry.
nik: "i like the hair."
hey, people have used lesser reasoning when picking a president. it is still a free country....
to kill time (and yes, we had plenty of it, since it took almost an hour to vote) i talked and talked to my babies about how important this day is, this is not a right, but an obligation to vote. i reminded them that this is the proudest moment you can have as an american by taking a small part in the giant political machine. one man, one vote. when the children would get restless (weren't we all restless--what is it about waiting in line that triggers my bladder) i would remind them that men and women faught wars and died so that we could exercise our duty by voting. there i am, caught up in the moment, reminding them that there was a time that not everyone could vote. i made serious eye contact with emma, as if to use mental telepathy, so that she (as a woman) would understand that voting is a relatively new thing for us chicks.
nik, being nik asked: "hey mom..did the FOUR FATHERS have to wait in line back then to vote?"
not about to be stumped, i replied (in a high-pitched ranting voice): "YES! it is a long tradition that we wait in a long and confusing line only to be yelled at by the hermit crabs and then finally get our ballot and cast our vote. my parents always brought me and now i intend to inflict this cruel tradition on to you and your sister!"
nik: "mom, (long pause) i am not sure if i want to ask you, but are you ok?"
me: "yes, i am just so proud to be an american."
with that, emma threw her bag of cheez-its into the air. as the cheez-its rained down on me one of the hermit crabs said, "maybe next time you will leave your children at home." i want you to know that i did not say the following in reply:
NEXT TIME, YOU'LL BE DEAD
hey, i did not say it, but i could of. i swear to god, if kerry doesn't win this election i am personally going to go to boston and knock his teeth out. nik is also hoping that kerry wins. i asked him why he likes kerry.
nik: "i like the hair."
hey, people have used lesser reasoning when picking a president. it is still a free country....
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