My Perfect Life

I was told something yesterday that I found absolutely delightful, and a bit funny. I was told I have the perfect life. Now, obviously, I would never claim any such thing for myself. But, you know what, in a lot of ways, she was right. My blessings far outweigh the negatives in my life, and I am, overall, very content.

Thinking about it made me want to ask, and answer for myself, a question: in detail, what three ways is your (my) life perfect. And the flip side is, in what three ways does it lack.

So, if there's anyone who still reads after the whining I've done lately, consider yourselves tagged.

My three perfects:
1. My children. My children are my reason to get out of bed every morning. Yes, that's in large part to insure they don't burn down the house while I'm lying in bed, but still... LOL

They're all bright and creative, funny, independent, willful and curious. They love each other, even when they seem to be trying their level-best to kill each other, and they try to spend every waking moment together.

They love me, even when I'm "Mean Mom," and they forgive my impatience and lack of perfections. They make every triumph sweeter with their grace in cheering for me, and they make every failure easier with their hugs and unconditional, unquestioning love. Without them, I would not live and my existence would be dull, indeed.

2. My husband, confidant, lover, partner, best friend, soul mate and the reason I can face anything, pesimst. He is the foundation of my world. It takes my breath away, the frightening, enervating, inspiring, peaceful way I love him and he loves me.

I have never really believed in that whole story of "true love" before. I thought only the weak could lose themselves in the heart of another. And when I loved him, I lost my heart and found my soul. I never knew that giving myself completely to another person could give me so much freedom and power. When I suceed at anything, the extra gust of his joy helps me soar even higher, and when I screw up and flop, the tenderness and understanding, the unshakeable strength of his love gives me a safe place to land. The richness of having someone who freely shares life allows me to see the world through two pairs of eyes, and that makes so much room for discovery.

3. A real, true home. I have never known a home before. I am a wild gypsy at heart who has always just drifted around, home simply being the place my cat lived. But this place is home. And it's not just the house that I've spent so many hours personalizing. It's not our quiet corner of land with its broad terraces, protective trees and rickety old barn. It's the way I feel here, peaceful and centered and belonging. This place feeds my soul. It is safe and welcoming. It is home.

My three imperfects
1. My mess. I never have the time, drive or energy to keep the house and yard to the standards my mother tried to instill in me. I try to get organized, but I can always find something I'd rather do.

2. My lack of personal security. Until I finish college, my earning potential is very limited. Having three children, I MUST change that. If I should need to support them on my own, I must be able to do so. Having a husband who drives at night and has a job with a certain amount of risk who also rides a motorcycle in sometimes heavy traffic, it would be foolish to not have a plan b in place. This is my biggest worry and the thing I most desire to change.

3. Influences on my children over which I have no control. I cannot, in this forum, explain this very much. But there is a specific instance where this is a big problem. And I am helpless to do more than offer a safe haven from it at home and hope it all comes out in the wash.

Well, what do ya think?

The first pic, about 15 minutes after my appointment. Yes, I am every bit as high as I look. This time I remembered to take a pain pill BEFORE having any work done. Good thing, too. Not so much pain, and I really didn't notice what Uncle Dentist was doing to me. But, boy, did he give me some pretty toofers!

My hair wouldn't cooperate for pictures tonight. Oh well, ignore the hair. Check out those teeth!

They look a LOT like my teeth did after I got my braces off, only whiter and smoother and prettier. I am enchanted! I have had this weird tooth fetish for the last, oh, eight years or so. I stared at the mouth of anyone with nice teeth, feeling jealous and humiliated. I seem to still have that fascination, but now it's my own teeth I'm staring at. They're amazing, and I can't believe it's ME! I haven't smiled, like this, a real smile, in public for at least the last five years. I practiced in a mirror to learn to smile without showing my teeth. It always killed me, because, before all the dental problems, I ALWAYS had a smile on my face. I am starting to feel like ME again!

Okay, they're not really green. The only place I could get decent light and have a mirror to see where I was aiming the camera was in the bathroom where I just painted the walls a lovely bamboo-ish color. Good news: pretty bathroom. Bad news: not good for complexions or teeth.

I continue to be amazed by this. Unless you've been there, you can't imagine what ecstasy, what joy I feel right now. To get up yesterday morning feeling ugly, disgusting, scared and worn out with worry and, after about 15 short, not-too-horrible minutes, to walk out feeling like a real human being. To actually WANT people to look at me, at my teeth. How incredible!

I'm still not entirely certain how I feel about my dental nightmares for the past fourteen years. Sometimes I felt like I was living behind a one-way window, where everyone out there could see me, could judge me or be disgusted by me, but I could only see a reflection of myself with every flaw amplified at least ten times. There were people I knew didn't notice, because they were too busy looking past my teeth to see me. But I could never convince myself that they didn't SEE, because I saw it as if through their eyes. My entire opinion of myself was wrapped up in the condition of my ugly, horrible teeth.

When I was trying to lose weight after DC weaned, I had a hard time focusing on my health and overall fitness. It didn't matter to me that I was slimming down, getting healthy, feeling better. All I saw was that, no matter how thin I got, no matter how fit I became, I was still ugly because of those teeth. What man would ever want me with teeth like that? Who wants to kiss trailer-trash mouth? Even with so much evidence that pesimst loves me and adores me and thinks I am beautiful, good teeth, bad teeth or no teeth at all, I was always afraid he'd be turned off and turned away by my frightening teeth or fake smile. How healthy would I ever be, weight-be-damned, while I fought infection after infection in my mouth?

We still don't know exactly what caused all the problems. There are so many factors that play into it, and it could be one or all. The odd thing is that, although my teeth were SO BAD, the bone was and is still very healthy. That may (and probably will) change, now that I have all my top teeth out, but that is something I'm willing to deal with later.

I'm having a hard time coming to terms with myself with no teeth in. Tonight, while rinsing my plate after supper, I stared myself down in the mirror until, if not coming to peace, exactly, I at least began to accept that this is me. Yes, I do look like that. But, thanks to the marvel of modern materials and a highly-skilled denture sculptor, I don't HAVE to look like that. My mouth is no different than my eyes; without contacts or glasses, my eyes are worthless. Without my denture, my mouth is, well, it's just weird. But I have contacts and glasses to give me vision, and I have a denture to make my mouth normal.

Normal, something I never thought would sound so wonderful! Yes, I think my teeth are beautiful. Yes, I am thrilled beyond belief that they look so nice. Honestly, though, the part that I like the best, the part that has me grinning at everyone that walks past, is that I feel like they DON'T stand out. The carnival mirror is gone, and I am free to be just another smile in the crowd.

Drat and Blast!

Can a girl catch a break around here? Saturday, my beloved Sidekick pooped out on me. I don't know what happened, but it's not working. So I'm without my cell phone and my usual internet connection. Hopefully, I'll have my replacement by the end of the week, but I'm not holding my breath. For one thing, I'd turn blue and pass out...

Anyway, the next horrible dentist appointment is tomorrow. Urgh. I'm veryveryveryvery nervous about it. Not much longer, I hope.

And there's some truly fun and frolicsome legal nonsense happening in my world. I wish I could go into detail on here, but right now, I just can't. Suffice it to say that I'm not worried, just amused.

Well, I'm off to the store to fetch allergy medicine for DC, who came home sneezing and blowing with runny eyes and a tickling throat. She went on to school, as she had no fever, but she will need another dose in the morning, I'm sure. I think the allergy attack started while visiting her paternal grandparents, who live in the middle of an evergreen forest. Hey, it's fall in Oklahoma!

There were two other things that I HAD TO HAVE from the store, and now I can't remember what they were. Hmm, well, time to go check the cabinets and supplies and see if I can figure it out!

Hope you all have a great week, and I'll be back to check in when I can either sit up without falling over (time for more good pain meds), or internet surf lying down (when my new phone comes in). 'Bye!

Root Root Root?

Sometimes it can be embarrassing to be a Cubs' fan. Now, don't get me wrong; I'd never abandon them. I will never forsake them. But, damn! I'd really love to see them win a World Series!

100 years. That's how long it's been since we won. we've been since then, and, please don't make me talk about it. Suffice it to say, even my mother doesn't remember that one.

So this year, with this team, they have a chance. They're good. Really, really good. They're scrappers. They keep on fighting.

So days like today are even more painful by contrast. It's only the bottom of the fifth inning (in Chicago), and the score is (oh yay! Another run for the Cubs) 11-2. And to whom are we losing? The Cards. The freakin', suck-so-bad-this-year, our very worst enemy Cardinals.

Two wins. We're just two short wins away from the play-offs. Seriously. So close. Do I think it's all wrapped up? Am I certain that, with such a small magic number and over a week left, we're in? Am I positive, hopeful and excited about our chances for an appearance or win at the Series?

No. Because I am a Cubs' fan. They may be the best team in baseball (which is arguable, I grant). They may have fantastic pitching (well, obviously not today). Their batters may swing with power and precision (again, not today). But they're the Cubs. I have seen them lose a game in the bottom of the 9th after leading by 8 runs. I'm convinced of their ability to lose anything, at any time.

Now, before you jump on me for being pessimistic, you have to remember, I have been a Cub fan for a long, long time. I'm not negative, I'm just a realist.

(And, for emphasis, the Cards just made it 12-2. Do I have to watch the last three and a half innings?!?

the fascination starts so early

Tyrannosaurus has a new word. It's perhaps the clearest word in his vocabulary (well, it might be a toss-up with "BarackObama"). And, of course, it's one he likes to use at odd moments when we're out in public.

That word is "penis."

You see, I was changing his diaper one evening when he grabbed a handful of boy parts and announced "Bum!"

"No, honey," I said. "That's your penis."

"Penis!" he said.

"Yes, penis."

"Penis! Penis! Peeeeeee-nis!"

"Yes, dear. Indeed."

"Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-nis!"

Oh boy, I thought. Now I've done it.

Ever since that evening, during diaper changes and baths, or if he's feeling bored, or when he wants to show off, he slaps a hand to his crotch and says a carefully enunciated "pee-nis!"

I do hope he grows out of this one soon, but I'm not holding out too much hope. After all, the fascination starts so early and doesn't seem to fade just because a little time passes. What's a decade or nine to an obsession like that?

Frustration!

So I'm not going to school in the Spring, and, very likely, not going back at all. There just isn't money available for it. I can't work and go to school, since that would go against all my parenting philosophies. I'm not going back at 50, because I don't want to. So there's another little dream for the future gone. Well, time to make new plans.

Someone Save Me

from the overly passionate advances of a Siamese cat!

The cross-eyed little cat has been quite worried about me lately. He spent the better part of the last two days curled into my arms, sleeping with me. Right now, he's draped across my throat, making it hard to type with my thumbs, and even harder to breathe.

Love and dedication are all well and good, but does anyone have a shoehorn I can use to remove this cat?