As evidenced by yesterday's list, I'm in go-go-go mode. I feel some better from my nasty coldy-virusy thing, and I only have a couple of days to get things into a self-maintaining mode. Tuesday morning, I'm having the first of three very unpleasant dental adventures which will all leave me pretty much incapacitated for the month. I am glad to be having it all done, but I am NOT looking forward to this in any way, shape or form. Gurgh.
As I mentioned yesterday, school just isn't I the cards for pesimst right now, and he is veryvery down. So down, in fact, that, for the first time since we met, he is really and truly depressed. And he's off work today and being very much an energy suck.
So I have a question: does anybody know a way to wedge a pessimistic pesimst from the livingroom couch? I've offered food, beverages, and even turned the television to obnoxious children's programming to try to budge him. But he's unbudgeable (how's that for making up fun to say words on the fly!). Urgh.
I just have a feeling this is going to be a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong month.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
Today: a list
(NOT IN ORDER)
1. nine loads of laundry (if you don't count the one still in the dryer, waiting to be folded)
2. Two loads of dishes (and even the hand-wash only like the iron skillets and the tray for the highchair)
3. Vacuum the carpet
4. Scrub the counters
5. Sweep the kitchen
6. Accept the big dissappointment of pesimst not being able to go to school (finances. Blah)
7. Write two checks to the school so I don't have to pack lunches today.
8. Change 5 diapes, two of them really icky
9. Check the time for The Dog Whisperer. I have a date with a DC
10. Finish typing this list so I can get my youngest two kids and curl up on the couch for our (every other) Friday Night Date!
1. nine loads of laundry (if you don't count the one still in the dryer, waiting to be folded)
2. Two loads of dishes (and even the hand-wash only like the iron skillets and the tray for the highchair)
3. Vacuum the carpet
4. Scrub the counters
5. Sweep the kitchen
6. Accept the big dissappointment of pesimst not being able to go to school (finances. Blah)
7. Write two checks to the school so I don't have to pack lunches today.
8. Change 5 diapes, two of them really icky
9. Check the time for The Dog Whisperer. I have a date with a DC
10. Finish typing this list so I can get my youngest two kids and curl up on the couch for our (every other) Friday Night Date!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
the weekness in me
In the days and weeks following the birth of my youngest son, I was invincible. My astonishment at the power of birthing that beautiful creature, my way, made me feel mighty, sexy, dazzling. I did that. I rode the waves of labor. I grunted him into the world. My memories weren't clouded by drugs or fear or orders I didn't want to follow or procedures and medications I wasn't allowed to refuse or even discuss. My body was mine, and I had learned to trust it fully.
Now, I hate this body. It failed. It lied, it was broken, and I don't know what any feeling means, anymore. Am I thirsty? Hungry? Tired? Sick? I don't know. Is it any surprise I have had three viruses in two months?
Will it always be this way? Will I ever trust myself again? Will I wake up one day and own this flesh and no longer feel like I'm just wearing a Pixie-shaped suit? That plays into my hunger for another baby, I'm sure. Can I ever get past this without giving birth ever again?
Now, I hate this body. It failed. It lied, it was broken, and I don't know what any feeling means, anymore. Am I thirsty? Hungry? Tired? Sick? I don't know. Is it any surprise I have had three viruses in two months?
Will it always be this way? Will I ever trust myself again? Will I wake up one day and own this flesh and no longer feel like I'm just wearing a Pixie-shaped suit? That plays into my hunger for another baby, I'm sure. Can I ever get past this without giving birth ever again?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
bumma!
No dentist appointments today. DC and I are both rather sick. She threw up breakfast, and I can't breathe and have no voice. Ew.
So I am giving up and going back to bed while I have a pesimst here to watch the baby. Good night
So I am giving up and going back to bed while I have a pesimst here to watch the baby. Good night
Friday, August 29, 2008
GROUCHY!
I am in a bad mood. Everything I was hoping to accomplish today did not happen. Things that looked like might work out did not, and none of my fondest dreams are going to come true. I don't feel like being optimistic tonight. I'm tired and discouraged and very much feeling like the most unimportant person in the world. I can't do anything right or get anything I want. I hate the world, and I don't like my life.
Or maybe I just have a broken heart and pms...
Or maybe I just have a broken heart and pms...
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
hope at last?
Sometimes it seems impossible to have hope. The world as it is becomes too discouraging, too overwhelming, too stuck in its own, gloomy rut. But hope is something in which I have always believed.
Growing up as a pastor's daughter, I was taught that there is a hope for a better place for believers. But I always rather took issue with that concept. You see, I find the world a dazzling place, full of wonder and possibility. The turning of the seasons, the growth of a single seed, the might of a crashing thunderstorm are as magical as any deed done by a bespeckled boy wizard and his kind. I never needed a musty-seeming story read by a fat lady in a bad dress at Sunday School to tell me miracles existed. Ever witness the birth of a kitten? Ta-da! New life! Magic!
Lately, my belief in the future and my desire to believe the best will happen has been sorely tried. I have been surrounded by sadness and death, by defeat and grief. My husband, who is not noted for sharing my optimism (hence the name pesimst), has even noticed the downturn. If any would have expected it, you'd think it would've been him. But not so much.
His job has been horrible. Really, really horrible. There is no stability left there, and there doesn't seem to be any place left to go with it. He was facing a future of simply marking time for a couple more decades and then retiring to a few decades of boredom. And this was the best-case scenario, provided he didn't get canned for circumstances beyond his control!
But lately, things are starting to look up a bit. You see, he might be able to find a way to go to school in January to go into a profession he would be passionate about where the sky's the limit on advancement and opportunity. All this for only big heaps of debt and several years of hard work!
There are a couple of big pluses for me in all of this. One is that he would be finishing about the time I want to go polish up my degree. It'd be nice to be able to afford some help instead of doing it all myself while going to school. Two is that he would gain an understanding of what I was facing by going back. Last time, he had no idea and didn't realize there was slack to be picked up. Three is the possibility of having a happy, fulfilled husband, instead of the grouchy, nervous facsimile that his current job sends home to me each night. And, lastly, is the likelihood that this could make some of my fantasies (those that would have remained forever beyond my financial means, or outside my capabilities as a housewife) actually become possible.
The only dark spot on my horizen is that, should all this work, it puts another baby forever out of reach. That is something I am struggling to accept. Life is all about choices, and sometimes there so much harder than we ever thought they could be.
Nonetheless, I have hope. I can see a way to dream again. I can see a future.
Growing up as a pastor's daughter, I was taught that there is a hope for a better place for believers. But I always rather took issue with that concept. You see, I find the world a dazzling place, full of wonder and possibility. The turning of the seasons, the growth of a single seed, the might of a crashing thunderstorm are as magical as any deed done by a bespeckled boy wizard and his kind. I never needed a musty-seeming story read by a fat lady in a bad dress at Sunday School to tell me miracles existed. Ever witness the birth of a kitten? Ta-da! New life! Magic!
Lately, my belief in the future and my desire to believe the best will happen has been sorely tried. I have been surrounded by sadness and death, by defeat and grief. My husband, who is not noted for sharing my optimism (hence the name pesimst), has even noticed the downturn. If any would have expected it, you'd think it would've been him. But not so much.
His job has been horrible. Really, really horrible. There is no stability left there, and there doesn't seem to be any place left to go with it. He was facing a future of simply marking time for a couple more decades and then retiring to a few decades of boredom. And this was the best-case scenario, provided he didn't get canned for circumstances beyond his control!
But lately, things are starting to look up a bit. You see, he might be able to find a way to go to school in January to go into a profession he would be passionate about where the sky's the limit on advancement and opportunity. All this for only big heaps of debt and several years of hard work!
There are a couple of big pluses for me in all of this. One is that he would be finishing about the time I want to go polish up my degree. It'd be nice to be able to afford some help instead of doing it all myself while going to school. Two is that he would gain an understanding of what I was facing by going back. Last time, he had no idea and didn't realize there was slack to be picked up. Three is the possibility of having a happy, fulfilled husband, instead of the grouchy, nervous facsimile that his current job sends home to me each night. And, lastly, is the likelihood that this could make some of my fantasies (those that would have remained forever beyond my financial means, or outside my capabilities as a housewife) actually become possible.
The only dark spot on my horizen is that, should all this work, it puts another baby forever out of reach. That is something I am struggling to accept. Life is all about choices, and sometimes there so much harder than we ever thought they could be.
Nonetheless, I have hope. I can see a way to dream again. I can see a future.
Monday, August 25, 2008
a day in the life of a pixie
Or "welcome to hell, here's your accordion"
No, seriously, my life's not that bad. Sure, it starts about three hours earlier than I'd like with my phone singing Flogging Molly's peppy tunes and vibrating around my nightstand so much that I usually just get up so it won't fall and break. And, sure, the mad scramble to get lunches in bags and backpacks on backs before the big yellow bus pulls up can get the pulse racing and tempers flaring. And the mad shrieks of an angry Tyrannosaurus can cause temporary deafness and make the dog pee on the floor. But it's not TOO bad...
At least, it's nothing I'd trade for money, power or fame. Because, you see, it's me that gets to make those lunches, rather than trusting to the processed garbage the school likes to pretend is healthy. And I am the one who gets to play goalie when the baby is throwing his little round cereal bites and laughing like a hyena. When my kids have a program during the day, I get to go and take pictures certain to embarrass them in years to come.
Now, that's not to say that there aren't times I don't want to chuck it all and have my own work schedule for other people to work around. There is always a mess in my livingroom floor from having cats and a dog and a baby playing there all day long. And there are always dishes and laundry and the grocery store and bathrooms to clean and meals to cook, and if I get bored, I can strip beds to wash sheets, or go hunting for that missing library book. And, being the only stay-at-home parent out of five parents (including exes and steps), I get all the fun of appointments and practices and meetings with teachers. I like to say that the only present I want for any gift-giving occasion is one day OFF.
But my afternoons, when the baby takes a nap, in the few minutes before my husband and big kids get home, I have a second to catch my breath, put off thinking about supper, ignore the lunch dishes in the sink and just enjoy it: it's busy and messy and loud and runs entirely on the loosest, most fluid schedule. But it's my life, and I wouldn't give it up for anything.
No, seriously, my life's not that bad. Sure, it starts about three hours earlier than I'd like with my phone singing Flogging Molly's peppy tunes and vibrating around my nightstand so much that I usually just get up so it won't fall and break. And, sure, the mad scramble to get lunches in bags and backpacks on backs before the big yellow bus pulls up can get the pulse racing and tempers flaring. And the mad shrieks of an angry Tyrannosaurus can cause temporary deafness and make the dog pee on the floor. But it's not TOO bad...
At least, it's nothing I'd trade for money, power or fame. Because, you see, it's me that gets to make those lunches, rather than trusting to the processed garbage the school likes to pretend is healthy. And I am the one who gets to play goalie when the baby is throwing his little round cereal bites and laughing like a hyena. When my kids have a program during the day, I get to go and take pictures certain to embarrass them in years to come.
Now, that's not to say that there aren't times I don't want to chuck it all and have my own work schedule for other people to work around. There is always a mess in my livingroom floor from having cats and a dog and a baby playing there all day long. And there are always dishes and laundry and the grocery store and bathrooms to clean and meals to cook, and if I get bored, I can strip beds to wash sheets, or go hunting for that missing library book. And, being the only stay-at-home parent out of five parents (including exes and steps), I get all the fun of appointments and practices and meetings with teachers. I like to say that the only present I want for any gift-giving occasion is one day OFF.
But my afternoons, when the baby takes a nap, in the few minutes before my husband and big kids get home, I have a second to catch my breath, put off thinking about supper, ignore the lunch dishes in the sink and just enjoy it: it's busy and messy and loud and runs entirely on the loosest, most fluid schedule. But it's my life, and I wouldn't give it up for anything.
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