I just read something on a blogger's site, Brass Tack Thinking, titled "I've Missed Blogging" and the writer mentions a quote that sums up why I've dusted off this blog o' mine (although the frequency of my posts is still a hit or miss)...
From Joan Didion, "I write to discover what I think."Right now in my life, I need to reevaluate, rediscover and / or redefine what I think, I guess... Yeah.
So, our super smartie daughter is now a sassy six year old - - and I'm trying to wrap my head around it... how the time has flown by so fast. Cliche, I know, but SOOOO freakin' true!
The boy-O will be 17 this summer... Our Juli-bean, aka Sweet Potato, she's now 6, and our little Nacho baby will be 3 years old in a couple months. I'm 40 years old. And my honey-man, he's HALF A CENTURY OLD now (snickering, as I love to tease him) = he's 50 years old!?!
I'm not where I thought I'd be at 40. Yeah, I know, deal with it - and I am, I'm trying to deal with it.
A couple months ago I found a graphic online, probably via Facebook. It's essentially a diagram that asks, "Are You Happy?" - - if yes, an arrow points around the way to "Keep doing what you're doing," and if not, "Change something."
Something has gotta change.
I'm concerned that I'm teaching my kids how to worry, how to obsess, how to be overly concerned, how to not take care of your physical and emotional well being, how to be impatient, how to let a bad day at work ruin my night, how to let a bad day ruin my week; I'm teaching them how to let a poor attitude shroud everything good. Okay, maybe some exaggeration there, but I do know this... as they grow older and they move more out of my grasp of influence, the voice they'll often hear when faced with a challenge, it will still be my voice in their heads. And that voice will either tell them that they can't handle it, or that they can. I want -I need- my voice to be a can-do voice of self-empowerment!
And so I've gotta own my choices, past, present and future, and take on an attitude of self-empowerment, in order for me to impart such an attitude for my children. Time to step up my game. Amen.
Last December, 2014, as my own Christmas gift to our Juli-Bean, I took her to see her first production of the Nutcracker ballet. We were meeting a couple of my moms-group friends, who were bringing their own little girls, as we had bought all our tickets together as a group. Juli-Bean wore her official Christmas dress for the season, donning a pair of glittery black, hot pink, lime green and teal blue Skechers light-up 'Twinkle Toes' sneakers. No joke. She had forgotten to gather her tights and her quilted, shiny metallic gold, dress-up mary janes before we had gone first to grandfather's for the Annual Johnson Family Christmas Candy Making day. She pulled off those Twinkle Toes though as if the choice had been deliberate, despite the initial moment of panicked realization she'd left her gold shoes at home.
We'd left candy making all too soon, to head to the theater. We had to park nearly a block away and we ran to the Peery Egyptian Theater with one of the moms and her one daughter, who we had met at a crosswalk. We were talking as we ran, and upon entering the theater, we found our other friend and her two girls immediately.
I have no recollection as to any specifics of what any of us were talking about... As we came through those main entry doors of the Egyptian and into the lit and busy theater lobby, a potpourri of fragrance hit my nose - old, aged theater smells of dust, lemony cleaners, and musty vanilla with hints of pine. As we gave hugs of greetings to our friends, and I handed out everyone's tickets, I gave Juli-Bean our two tickets, telling her she could offer them to the usher at the entry door to the inside of the theater itself for the usher to help us determine where our assigned seats were. It was meant as a deliberate teaching moment; We ask for help from the get go, to know where to go.
I had a hand held to her back, at the spot between her neck and shoulder, guiding her along, while looking down at her to see her wide-eyed, darling face full of awestruck anticipation. She had her two hands held together at her chest, holding and protecting our two tickets. The first pangs hit me, "I'm at that time in my life, finally," I thought. Tears welled up in my eyes as if on cue, but I looked upward to spread the tears and thereby prevent their falling. I couldn't be crying already.
"I'm finally at that time in my life..."
Juli-Bean was already familiar with the theater, although she hadn't remembered the place until we entered the interior of the theater, walking down the right-side aisle... We had been there on a mommy-daughter date in February 2014 for the Weber State University-sponsored Storytelling Festival, which she had soooo loved. She squealed with LOUD delight and cast her eyes upward, nearly coming to a halt in the center of the aisle -she wanted to confirm whether the twinkling star lights set in the theater's ceiling were on.
As we came to our seats, everyone taking their turn to find their spot, shed their coat, and get themselves situated, Juli-Bean almost forgot we were there for the ballet, and not for our friends alone. Without much of a wait, the lights of the theater were dimmed, and the orchestra pit -yes, a live group of musicians- sprang to life, deftly tuning their instruments for a brief swell, followed by silence and a cough in the theater audience. The first applause began. The conductor came out, gave a quick yet strong bow to introduce himself, followed with a sweeping gesture towards his troupe of musicians, who all stood and promptly sat back down. He then turned toward the stage and raised his arms, held for only a second or two, and then brought them down... and the sparkling, twinkling beginnings of the magic of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Prelude began to be play...
I didn't even make it four full measures before my eyes were utterly filled with fat tears, and an ache of pure emotion swelled in my chest. When the flute first began to play, the tears were already rolling down my cheeks, dripping from my chin, and by the time the triangle began to chime away, my mascara was destroyed. I was so happy.
One of my oldest first memories I have of my own mum is of going to Ballet West's production of The Nutcracker in Salt Lake City. I remember sitting on the first row of the mezzanine, left of the stage. I remember clutching my mother's hand, my left arm outstretched behind me as I nearly leaned clear out of my seat, gazing down at the stage, absolutely rapt with wonder and fascination. I'm sure, not unlike Juli-Bean's first time, there were moments when I, too, wasn't entirely captivated, but once the themed dances began, my Juli-bean, just like I had been at her exact age, didn't miss a moment on that stage.
Another happy childhood Nutcracker memory of mine, it's also one of the few memories I have of my mother having long hair that does not come from a photograph... We were on a the mezzanine again, maybe my second or third time seeing the Nutcracker, I don't know. I looked at her over my left shoulder, she wasn't looking at me -she was watching the stage with a soft smile on her face and a look of serene peace, looking pleased. Her face was lit in a golden glow of light reflecting from the stage below. And I felt such love for her swell inside me -such happiness- and then I turned to see the Sugar Plum Fairies take their turn on the stage. This memory hit me as I watched the Sugar Plum fairies take the stage that Saturday with Juli-Bean... And I cried some more.
At intermission, it was every girl for herself in our group. Juli-Bean and I, we made a beeline for the bathrooms to get that out of the way, pronto. Thereafter, we wandered about the lobby looking at the displays and the Nutcracker boutique. Without having to convince me, Juli-Bean chose a nutcracker doll for us to purchase -I had always wanted one. We took some pictures of her posed in front of a life-size Nutcracker and took pictures of one of our friends with her own daughter... And this friend of mine, who had taken her daughter to see the Nutcracker the year before, for her daugther's first Nutcracker production, she said something to me that I will never forget: We've reached that time in our lives in which we get to do the things we've imagined doing with our children.
Nearly 4 years ago, when Juli-Bean was nearly a year old, it was then that I realized that if I wanted to recreate for my own daughter some of the pure joys of my own childhood, we had to leave Las Vegas.
We've been in Ogden for 2 years now. I'm hoping that for 2015, I'll get past the things that have held me back over the last 3 or 4 years, that have held me in anxiety and worry, with a panicked sense of no direction.
I reeeeally need to learn how to embrace my daily decisions that effect TODAY, and I need to live my life as it is, and stop waiting for when this or that comes into place. Some of it may never come into place, and I will have squandered away what I do have right now, right in front of me. That's what the Nutcracker taught me, with my 5 year old beside me, squeezing my hand in the dark of the theater.
Subject Line: With alllll your abundant freetime, I want you to take this test
Text: http://test.personality-project.org/
It's funny how as I get older, from one year to the next, from month to month even, I realize more and more how little I know, yet we all THINK we know. SO much of my life is a total unknown. I can try -pretend- I know what we're going to be doing or planning and what's gunna happen -what the outcome will be- but I have almost ZERO control over my future.
There are so many variables I ignore, variables that define my life and my limits. And then there are the limits I create for myself, in my mind's eye, painting myself into a box, failing to look beyond what I think has to be this way or that. I'm babbling, kinda --
Anyhow, I've been trying to STOP pretending I know so much about where we've been and where we're going. I can hope and strive and make goals and make plans, but so little of it is in my control. I'm trying to be more aware of all that I'm afraid of and let go of those things that I have no control over.
Preventative measures have been my forte for years, but I'm discovering more and more that I waste so much time preparing for what might happen, trying to control what might happen. Too much time, too many resources, far too much focus and WAY TOO MUCH OF MY ENERGY is spent thinking about what could happen, with my trying to control those outcomes.
I'm rambling a bit here, I know.
I guess I needed to get it out there, that I'm trying to let go, to enjoy and to live more in the here and now, to accept those things that will happen that I can or cannot plan for, to accept there's so much I cannot control. I can't fret my life away anymore. And I cannot focus so much upon all that's wrong with the world - -because there's a great deal of good going on as well, and I'm a part of the good stuff going on. No, I'm not curing cancer, but I'm doing good.
All my screw-ups to date, they've made me who I am. In no way am I perfect and there's a TON of room for improvements, yes, but generally speaking, I'm a happy person and I do like myself (most of the time). As my honey-man told me just last night, each day is a chance to do my best, despite yesterday.
The past couple months have been a blur. And although we have a number of different things going on, I see two things most prominently in my mind reviewing this year to date - my aunt's face, heartbroken and conflicted, and my two-year old daughter, wide-eyed and smiling with pure and earnest interest spread across her darling full and rosey cheeked face. And these two things in my mind's eye are in juxtaposition to one another, and they remind me of the on-going duality of life which is this in my book:
Life sucks - - It's ugly and excruciatingly painful, brutally cruel and violently atrocious, totally unfair and unforgiving, unfeeling and wholly dismissive. And yet, Life can offer the most beautiful and pure moments, and the most splendid and blissfully simple joys.
It's complicated (nodding my head).
Before leaving for work this morning, while scrambling around the house to get us all out the door for work on time and the sweet potato's timely delivery to preschool, I had a lovely lil' brief texting convo with the angel boy-O's mommie, Wendy - - she has her hands full right now with life-changing events underway, as do we, and we were exchanging comments on the details of our latest news, and she wrote: "Oh wow. I don't know whether to say yay or boo," to which I responded, "lol exactly!" And then she wrote: "Well, I do believe that things will work out in the best way possible."
And then she wrote, "Ask [insert my honey-man's name] to tell you the 'How do you know this is a bad thing?' story from Japan." "Still something I kind of live by."
I wrote back to her: "omg LOL I have heard that story sOooooOOooooo many times!"
Wendy's reply: "HA! Glad to hear it's still out there."
Me: "oh yes, like alllll the time."
Wendy: "I have to say, I remind myself of that story when I feel like I'm getting screwed and it really puts things into perspective. We are living proof of the truth of that philosophy right now..."
Me: "Totally, amen sister wife"
Okay, so I just googled this: "Chinese Taoist farmer story about how do you know it's good or bad" -No, really, that's what I typed, really! Anyhow, I found several versions of the Taoist/Chinese farmer story, although the central message is the same across them all. I've included further below the most prominent four versions I found, the first being the closest to my honey-man's version, although my honey-man does note Mongolian nomads and Mongolian invaders specifically, and his version has a herd of horses returning to the village with the first horse, and the villagers tell the farmer he and his family will be rich. Furthermore, as with the first version here, the farmer in my honey-man's version always counters the assumption something is either good or bad, which is exactly what my honey-man often does whenever I'm facing something and attempting to determine it to be either 'good' or 'bad' - - which can sometimes be infuriating when in the moment (lol), as it can either totally dampen a happy celebration, or take away from one's need to complain/be mad, but yet, more often than not --grudgingly at times-- I have to admit he's been right to challenge the assumption!
Version 1:
This farmer had only one horse, and one day the horse ran away. The neighbors came to console him over his terrible loss. The farmer said, "What makes you think it is so terrible?"
A month later, the horse came home--this time bringing with her two beautiful wild horses. The neighbors became excited at the farmer's good fortune. Such lovely strong horses! The farmer said, "What makes you think this is good fortune?"
The farmer's son was thrown from one of the wild horses and broke his leg. All the neighbors were very distressed. Such bad luck! The farmer said, "What makes you think it is bad?"
A war came, and every able-bodied man was conscripted and sent into battle. Only the farmer's son, because he had a broken leg, remained. The neighbors congratulated the farmer. "What makes you think this is good?" said the farmer.
As told by Executive editor, Elise Hancock, in the Johns Hopkins Magazine, November 1993, page 2, in section entitled Editor's Note.
Version 2:
A man named Sei Weng owned a beautiful mare which was praised far and wide. One day this beautiful horse disappeared. The people of his village offered sympathy to Sei Weng for his great misfortune. Sei Weng said simply, "That's the way it is."
A few days later the lost mare returned, followed by a beautiful wild stallion. The village congratulated Sei Weng for his good fortune. He said, "That's the way it is."
Some time later, Sei Weng's only son, while riding the stallion, fell off and broke his leg. The village people once again expressed their sympathy at Sei Weng's misfortune. Sei Weng again said, "That's the way it is."
Soon thereafter, war broke out and all the young men of the village except Sei Weng's lame son were drafted and were killed in battle. The village people were amazed as Sei Weng's good luck. His son was the only young man left alive in the village. But Sei Weng kept his same attitude: despite all the turmoil, gains and losses, he gave the same reply, "That's the way it is."
As told by Chin-Ning Chu, in "The Asian Mind Game: unlocking the hidden agenda of the Asian business culture -- a westerner's survival manual," New York:Macmillan Publishing Company, page 182. (1991)
Version 3:
A man who lived on the northern frontier of China was skilled in interpreting events. One day, for no reason, his horse ran away to the nomads across the border. Everyone tried to console him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a blessing?" Some months later his horse returned, bringing a splendid nomad stallion. Everyone congratulated him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a disaster?" Their household was richer by a fine horse, which his son loved to ride. One day he fell and broke his hip. Everyone tried to console him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a blessing?"
A year later the nomads came in force across the border, and every able-bodied man took his bow and went into battle. The Chinese frontiersmen lost nine of every ten men. Only because the son was lame did the father and son survive to take care of each other. Truly, blessing turns to disaster, and disaster to blessing: the changes have no end, nor can the mystery be fathomed.
The Lost Horse,
Chinese Folktale.
As told by Ellen J. Langer, in" The Power of Mindful Learning," Reading, Mass: Addison-Wesley, page 99-100. (1997).
近塞上之人有善術者，馬無故亡而入胡，人皆弔之。其父曰：「此何遽不為福乎！」居數月，其馬將胡駿馬而歸，人皆賀之。其父曰：「此何遽不能為禍乎！」家富 良馬，其子好騎，墮而折其髀，人皆弔之。其父曰：「此何遽不為福乎！」居一年，胡人大入塞，丁壯者引弦而戰，近塞之人，死者十九，此獨以跛之故，父子相 保。故福之為禍，禍之為福，化不可極，深不可測也。
Translation (see above link for annotations and comment):
Among the people who lived close to the border, there was a man who led a righteous life. Without reason, his horse escaped, and fled into barbarian territory. Everyone pitied him, but the old man said : "what makes you think this is not a good thing?"
Several months later, his horse returned, accompanied by a superb barbarian stallion. Everyone congratulated him. But the old man said: "what makes you think this is cannot be a bad thing?"
The family was richer from a good horse, his son enjoyed riding it. He fell and broke his hip. Everyone pitied him, but the old man said: "what makes you think this is not a good thing!"
One year later, a large party of barbarians entered the border. All the valid men drew their bows and went to battle. From the people living around the border, nine out of ten died. But just because he was lame, the old man and his son were both spared.
Whenever I find myself in a brooding, uber contemplative, semi-moody, self-examining mood -not exactly in the dumps and not at all climbing high- I almost always crave me some Ray LaMontagne, and he helps me slowly, gently rise out of it and on, onto better things.
Inner Thoughts for Next Time: "Ah, yes... Step back and recognize what's going on here - I know this feeling. Yes, my button is being pushed. Yup, you're pushing my buttons. Okay, now don't engage; just feel your response, but don't act on it. Just feel it and think about it, let it wash over you. Examine the push n' pull at play in this moment and the history involved. See it for what it is and then let it goooo."
Someday I'll get used to this - - I'll stop expecting to be given anything other than a contrary "No" response.
Today's my furlough day for the month of March - - and it's the day before my daughter's FIRST BIRTHDAY!?!? - - I just cannot believe she's gunna be a year old tomorrow!? Holy Hannah!!! - - how the heck did that happen so freakin' fast, someone please tell me??!?
My honey-man has said this to me several times before, but this past year, it's really taken on greater meaning for me: One's concept of time completely changes once you have children.
Before I had my lil' sweet potato, a single day could drag on and on - - a week could feel like an eternity. I have been able to distinguish how time is, indeed, altered whenever we have the angel boy-O with us, here in Vegas and before, when I'd see him in California - - Here and gone is always how it feels, even during the summers when we have him for a few solid weeks. The time just flies by. And now? It's every day! Every week! Every month! Here and gone! It's just absolutely unbelievable to me that an entire year has flown by since our girlie came out and into the world!
And man, can I say I had NO IDEA how absolutely freakin' fantastic she'd be? - - She totally rocks my world, my baby girl, oh yes, she does!!! She is the coolest lil' thing ~ And the last couple of weeks have been phenomenal! She's just flying past developmental milestones, and each and every day, she does something new, and she's always showing us what a smart lil' cookie she is. And she's a total stinker too! Boy, she sure likes to test things out, particularly mommie's patience! I love it though - - I totally love the gleam in her eye as she watches my growing frown as she chooses which food item she will next hold over the edge of her highchair tray, to release it and let it fall to the floor... she doesn't even watch any of it fall --she watches ME and my face to see how I'll respond! I love bein' her mommie and although it's been kicking mah butt, man, my life is forever changed. I knew this would be the case, intellectually I knew, but wow, boy did I underestimate the transformation.
I'm making cupcakes right now to bring to her classmates and teachers tomorrow. Honestly, I don't think I could possibly be any happier right now in this very moment (unless I were 10 lbs lighter) - - yeah, I'm home on a furlough day, no less, and the economy really sucks, and there's LOADS of uncertainty ahead for all of us, and yeah, there are horrendous things happening this very minute all over the world; there's a gazillion valid complaints worth mentioning as part of this world and the reality that is life, but I'm way, way, waaaay too delighted with the 'cherry chip' cupcakes I'm baking to simply honor my baby's arrival into this world 364 days ago, to celebrate her and her first birthday. I'm all vehclempted.
What characterizes most immature people is that they sit around complaining that life doesn't meet their demands.
Listed in no particular order of importance:
1. I look down and see baby cereal smudges on my pants that I missed from the time I wore them last, and they make me smile and chuckle...and then I make zero attempt to clean them off.
2. If I don't have a tissue handy, I'll use the inside of my shirt hem to wipe my baby daughter's snotty nose... anything to keep her lil' darling mug clear of grodie baby boogies!
3. During mah baby's dinnertime, I pause just long enough to lick the baby puree off the back of my fingers before I gotta swipe my bangs outta my eyes.
4. I encourage splashing at bathtime and EVERYTHING gets wet and I do not care one iota.
5. I gave my baby daughter a dip-package of fry sauce to gnaw on the other day to keep her entertained while we were having lunch on the way home from Utah, and when ithe fry sauce inevitably exploded open all over the two of us, I almost laughed so hard that I cried.
6. Whenever my baby's Grammy and her auntie Riann feed her cake frosting and ice cream and chocolate syrup and the like, I just grin and watch.
7. I figured out recently that my baby daughter really enjoys my crazy bedhead in the mornings, so I quit doing my hair before she wakes up.
8. I really do like to pick out what my baby sweet potato girlie's gunna wear for the day, enough so that my honey-man will no longer offer to dress her without my first picking out her clothes.
9. I ocassionally find myself singing the songs from 'Signing Times' while driving to work, even though my honey-man is the one who takes our sweet potato girl to daycare in the mornings.
10. I totally lose track of time when I'm with my lil' sweet pea because I'm so focused on her and little else.
She slept another 8-hour-night last Thursday night (Wait, did I ever write about the first time she slept 8 hours straight? I did? oh yeah, I did), and she slept 7 hours straight last night. And so, today, in preparation for when the time comes that we can say "she's sleeping through the night now," our baby girlie had her first ever nappy-time sleeping in her crib. And man, did she look so small in her big crib! It's funny, right now she's beginning to look like a giant in her bassinet!
See, our plan is to move her into her own bedroom to sleep in her crib, and out of our bedroom, once she's consistently sleeping through the night.
Before she was born, I would tell people that although my honey-man believed and told everyone the baby would be sleeping in our room until she was six months old, I was not going to allow it for more than a couple months. Yeah, so I totally had NO IDEA what I was talking about at the time.
Not only did I not understand how many times I'd been getting up in the night to feed her well into the second month, I also had NO IDEA how much I would ENJOY coming to her rescue whenever she stirs and begins to wake and whimper for attention. And I LOVE to hear her sleeping breath at night. And I LOVE to hear her lil' breathy sighs and her middle-of-the-night squeaks. During her first month, of course, some of those little noises of hers would honestly freak me out, as I'd bolt awake, bracing myself for a big upset, but they were, more often than not, false alarms, which I'm now used to anyhow.
Our baby sweet potato girl is three months old as of yesterday. Yup, THREE MONTHS OLD. She was in mah belly just 3 months ago!?! And my honey-man might be right after all... Three is more than two ya know. TRANSLATION OF THE LATTER NONSENSE STATEMENT: I'm not sure I'm ready to give her up to her crib --I cannot tell you how much this realization blows me away. Three months ago, I was sooo sure I'd be just itching to get her out of our bedroom, almost as if she would somehow be an intrusion. I know, it sounds absolutely crazy to me now, because right now I cannot imagine missing the chance to be right there when she first begins to wake, to see her when she opens her eyes wide to the morning light, to watch her stretch her little chubby arms high above her head as she pushes her tiny belly outward, stretching her legs and even her toesies as well. And to see the recognition brighten her little face as she discovers I'm spying upon her. I'm not ready to give that up, not yet.
In three months' time, or rather, 3 days from the time of her birth -- No, in the first 3 hours? -- Naah, more like 3 seconds' time... whoops, how I digress. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for my baby girl. It having been three months now, looking back to the day she officially entered this world --my world-- I cannot believe how much she has utterly bewitched me. I had NO IDEA how much I could love this child; I love her more than life itself.
Ya know when you go on that nice vacation, a week-long or so, and then you return home from that nice vacation, and that day comes shortly after your return when you've got to go back to work, post-that-oh-so-nyce-vacation? Well, this is a bit different: Not ever has the phrase "going back to work" felt so heavy or so dreaded.
My maternity leave is coming to an end... I return to the world of the 'working-for-living' come this Monday. I have, however, been granted a 3 month-long, temporary part-time contract to help me ease more gracefully back into working, also allowing me to remain at home with mah baby girlie-girl until she's 6 months old, which is ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC (I am sooo freakin' lucky! So, so, so, soooo lucky! I know! I know!), BUHHHT I'm still scared: How am I going to get things done AND retain my sanity?
Better yet, why do we live in a culture that values motherhood and its children so poorly? Why aren't we like England, or France, or Sweden, or the other countries granting mothers a year at home with their infants, minimum, and without losing their livelihood? Paid maternity leave is a rarity and parental leave is almost unheard of in the U.S., yet we wonder as a society why our children have so many problems, developmentally, psychologically, and academically. Yet over and over again, we vote for legislators who devalue, and consequently, underfund federal and state level health and educational programs for our children. And why does this happen? Children aren't the priority, apparently... Our government is more interested in oil and profits, and we, the people as a majority, we're more interested in consumption than caring for our own. Yeah, most of us, we'd rather bitch about gas prices and taxes. Think about it.
I wrote this last night around 10pm-ish and at some point, I actually nodded off to sleep!
Some days, I can't determine if my expectations of myself are truly realistic or way, way off base. Sometimes, honestly, it seems my expectations simply set me up for an overall sense of failure. I can never do all that I want to get done, and I know this. Yes, intellectually, I do know this, yet I keep struggling with this nagging feeling that I should be doing more, always. Well, it's not really a feeling so much as a deeply felt belief, a belief I can't seem to give up.
I may have mentioned this before, but I'm one of those people who derives a grrreat (and also sick) sense of accomplishment by crossing things off a to-do list, able to stand back and look at what I've done, able to say to myself, see all that you've done today? Well, having a baby, as I suspected would be the case, it has really thrown me for a loop, in that she does not either require a neat and tidy to-do list, nor does she accommodate much of any to-do list I may have.
Some days, I can easily dismiss the many to-do lists I can create, and I can instead focus upon the here and now, enjoying my baby daughter and accomplishing a little bit of everything as I take things as they come, and I don't think (or rather, obsess) much about tomorrow. Other days, I plan a marathon of errands, and I run through a literal laundry list of household tasks, plus a litany of projects to work on towards completion. If my timing runs as I hope it will and zee wee babe goes along with mommie's fast-paced flow, I'm a very, very happy camper, as it's reminiscent of how I used to be; how it felt then to get things done... how I then used to derive a sense of self-worth for myself. Sometimes though, honestly, when I try to do what I did before, it's just exhausting is all.
It's been getting easier over the last couple weeks though. More often than not now, our big run-around days are quite successful! Of course, it certainly helps that I've had two and a half months to learn how to read the signs my baby gives me as to what she needs. Foremost, I'm having to learn how to derive my sense of worth from both my to-do list AND from being a mommie. When I focus upon the latter, without being too critical (of couse), I can be as happy as a lark... I LOVE BEING A MOMMIE, but it's the old me that throws it all out of whack. I'd been doing really well the last couple weeks, juggling the old me and the new mommie-me. Unfortunately, in just the last couple days, the balance is threatening to fly off kilter, as the angel boy-O arrived to Vegas for these first two months of the summer (yay!!!), and the countdown to the day I return to work has begun.
Yup, I return to work on June 22nd, and this makes me really nervous = AND WHAT A BIG, FAT, FREAKIN' GYNORMOUS UNDERSTATEMENT THAT IS!?!
One of the big questions plaguing me is "How will I get everything done?" --Well, I do know the answer to that, it's easy: I won't. But how will I not go crazy because of this? --I don't yet know how and that's why I'm nervous.
8."Green Light Giv'n to Hire Me a New 'Sistant" - K, yer not supposed tah blog about work, I know - - HOWEVAH - - I was given clearance last week to hire a new assistant, and this news almost makes up for the last year's worth of daily torture!!! Hallelujah and Amen. Praise all that is good and precious.
14. "Are you Preggers?" - This post, if written at greater length, I would offer multiple, extensive observations made in the last year regarding today's latest fashion trends for the ladies, plus the simple fact that it's no secret that I'm jones'n to be pregnant, and it's in the not-so-distant plans, but not yet in the works, but I digress. I've acquired a good handful of new tops in the last few months, and I'm absolutely certain that for any observant bystander, each one I wear begs the question... "Is she pregnant?" For future reference until further notice: No, not yet, but my wardrobe is sure ready for it, yes.
19. "How 'Bout a New Rotation?" - I've had the same CDs stashed in my car's sun visor's CD holder for the last two years with the exception of two additions over last summer: 1) Wicked, the Soundtrack, after I'd seen the real thing in London (and don't you dare dis Wicked, cuz I'm a enormous sap and I shamelessly love it, and I KNOW ALL OF THE WORDS), and the other [deep inhalation], 2) Fergie, The Dutchess (or whatever it's called). Yes, Fergie - - and I am so ashamed. It was sent to me via an unwanted BMG auto-mailing! I both emailed and called BMG to complain, and I supplied the proof of my online-submitted decline for that month's Featured Selection! The unwanted charges were credited back to my bank account... but I was told to keep the CD - - and not only did I do so, it's been in rotation for nearly a year now. *sniff, sniff* I need serious help, I do. I know. Oh, so what's been in the rotation, you ask? 1) Doobie Brothers Greatest Hits, 2) Billy Joel's "An Innocent Man," [SIDE NOTE: To the angel boy-O's dear mommy's horror, I got the angel boy-O into "Uptown Girl" a few years ago, and he and I sing it in the car together, so it will stay in rotation until the day he tires of it.], 3) the red one is Fergie, 4) the orange is the Garden State Soundtrack, then 5) Putumayo's Brazillian Lounge compilation CD, 6) John Mayer's Continuum, 7) Ferry Corsten's L.E.F. and lastly, 8) "French Behind the Wheel," Disc #6... oh, and I'm certain that Wicked was in the car CD player at the time this photo was taken.
20. "Health Matters: An Update" - Long since the imaginary femoral hernia and the supposed spastic colon, plus a multitude of ridiculous, worthless prescriptions, followed by my personal favorite, the colonoscopy scare, the latest and ahhlmost final verdict is this: I've just got nothing but bad ovarian cyst issues. I do have another scan scheduled on May 28th to rule out one last theory, but we're pretty sure I just have a dreadful cycle is all. I've been charting all sorts of things on the calendar in our bathroom (and we'll leave it at 'all sorts of things'), and I've determined that on average each month, I have about 5 pain-free days is all. Yup. And the proposed solution to this? Either get back on The Pill or get pregnant. So unless we discover something new next week, that's where we are.Here are some of the titles of several unpublished post drafts [with translations], all of which were written between the months of December '06 and February '07, soon to be trashed:
"Olympic Bitching" [Written early December '06: With explosive fury and frustration, raging on and on over the seeming fact that we'd been unable to achieve any of the goals we'd set for 2006.]
"Seeking Professional Help" [Written late December '06: Made plans to see a therapist to determine how to best handle our life circumstances.]
"Feelings of Deep Failure" [Written early January '07: Eight months later and nearly 100 formal L.A. job applications, and not one job offer = "No one wants me" = "What the hell is wrong with me?" = "I'm a failure" = big time yo-yo depression = an abismal sense of worth = severely damaged confidence = feeling inadequate.]
"Feeeling Sooo Forlornnn" [Written late January '07: My L.A. job search is put on hold and my honey-man tells me that he thinks we'll know what we'll be doing by February's end; I have difficulty (major understatement) mustering much faith.]
"I Surrender" [Written early February '07: I give up trying to determine what to do next and resign myself to living strictly in the 'now,' surrendering myself to my circumstances.]
And then, post-"I Surrender," my preoccupations become minor (with the exception of my missing purse)... and this one really should have been posted, but I'd forgotten it:
"What a Waste" [Written late February '07: Wanting to offer a gesture of gratitude, I brought in Starbucks coffee for my new assistant, and managed to spill an entire 'grande' caramel macchiato in a 5-story building's elevator, all down its button panel, and the front and sleeves of my expensive, fancy-schmancy light pink terry zip sweater that my stepmum had bought me.]
Just an FYI: My blogging will be pretty sparse in the coming weeks. If I manage to post, it will most likely be nothing more than trivial matters and/or pure fluff. Got far too much personal 'personal life' stuff in the works right now to be sharing all that much.
I've been a Bloglines user for a couple years now, and I think that I just somehow wiped out all my RSS feeds, but I don't know how or why or how to fix it... all I know is that THEY ARE ALL GONE!?! [panic sets in] - - Oh, wait! After having just crapped my pants, nearly throwing a fit, I see there's a message from Bloglines: "There is a problem with the database. Please try again later." WOW. Guess I'm just a bit toooo attached to my Bloglines account, eh?
Speaking of blogging, as of this past Valentine's Day, I've had this blog for 2 years! And a couple weeks ago, while my step-mum was in town, she asked me why on earth I maintain a blog, posting such personal info. online for open public access. I think I fumbled in the explanation I'd offered her, but here it is:
In no order of importance, Reasons Why I Blog:
#1, Simply put, I'm a very silly person;
#2, I'm very open about most aspects of my life;
#3, I like to write out my thoughts and experience;
#4, It's a very therapeutic outlet;
#5, I enjoy making lists;
#6, A guilty confession: I really like memes;
#7, It helps me recall and remember;
#8, Electronic journaling is more convenient than longhand;
#9, Posting to the Internet allows me to do the following: Keep those friends and family who are aware of my blog up to date in a sometimes silly, yet very personal kind of way... even if it is only online.
#10, Open 'publishing' to the Internet has allowed me to find/meet people through my blog who, otherwise, I never would have never found!
Yes, blogging can be a very personal, self-exposed, self-contrived, and self-possessed outlet, but really, I enjoy it and for whatever reasons up to now, blogging makes me, well, it makes me happy! 'Nuff said.
As of February 20th, I was able to hire a replacement for my last assistant. And as for my newbie, this is the end of her 3rd week... and guess what?
Only our 2nd week together, she stunned the holy crap outta me by giving me this fabulous floral arrangement, complete with a very flattering, yet personal note of gratitude, plus a massive box of Ethel M Chocolates (Mmmmm... and those nummy babies are allll gone, already!)It just dawned on me that it's my ex-husband's birthday, today, and it's Mihow's too (go cheer her up!), and also my old roommies' birthdays, both Sherri and Heather... But for some reason, today being my ex-hub's b-day, thinking a bit about the past, it all hit me...
This year it will have been 15 years since I had first met the man I came to marry, and it'll be 10 years since I was first married to him. Although I know it's not true, I don't feel like I've accomplished much since 1997 - - don't feel like I'm where I'd thought I'd be by now. Then again, I never thought I'd ever get a divorce and high tail it to Las Vegas, did I? Also in 2007, come this March, it will be 20 years since my mother died... 20 years gone.
I hope those aren't the only two benchmarks to be reached this year. I'm tired of feeling acted upon.
P.S.
Noooo, no one needs to tell me that I've a got a helluva crappy attitude. I know it. I'm chiding myself this very second.
P.P.S.
I absolutely know that I have many a thing -countless things- to be grateful for in my life and I should be friggin' HAPPY, but I think my goof ball standards need a serious beating down. I guess my expectations are too high...
