I have had it. Really, this is it. Done. Finished. I am the cartoon character whose eyes are rolling, lips are babbling, and is carted off after the Bunny finally pushes the poor crazy over the edge. Me. Gone. Padded room.
1. I've given up on the news. CNN World section is filled with things like pandemics, calamitous droughts, genocide and rape. CNN US page is filled with things like abused elephants and whether or not a former CEO (and dude who considers himself a presidential candidate) slept with some woman other than his wife for 13 years.
Perhaps, and I am only guessing here, that if as a country we would nut up and actually look at the REAL news of our world and country, we would be a helluva lot better off. Sure, the news sucks right now. When hasn't it sucked? There has always been famine or Cold War or something. But we didn't used to be such a bunch of babies that we couldn't handle it. Nothing is going to improve, people, unless we approach the real stuff. Not what FOX tells us important (because, honest to God, that's some seriously paranoid batpoop right there), not what CNN tells us important (because, seriously, how does one fill 24 hours of news without putting Anderson Cooper, former hard hitting news not-gay-man, on the Ridiculist?) but what we know in our HEADS are the problems: too few with too much, too many with too little, and no one heeding demands for change. We don't need to pray on these problems, we don't need to distract ourselves with overly involved headlines about a doctor who may or may not have killed a crazy musician. We need to read the FACTS, learn about potential solutions, and then pressure the powers that be to stop blaming each other and fix the problems that led to the FACTS being so effed up.
2. I've given up on parenting. Every morning, I wind up running around the house looking for a belt or a sneaker or a sweatshirt. Every afternoon, I seemingly speak into the wind about putting shoes and belts together by the door with backpacks. Apparently, I am not a good parent. Apparently, nobody is listening. Apparently, I have no purpose.
I am seriously trying to raise little people to be the big people I think all big people should be. And YET, I cannot get the little people to stop using EXPO markers that soak through paper and ruin my floors/desk/kitchen table. How is it that I am not having impact on these little people? Where am I failing? It's not the kitchen table having green EXPO stains on it that really bothers me. (I bought a table expecting it to be ruined). It's that those stinkers (the children, not the pens themselves) DON'T LISTEN!
I'm so frustrated.
3. I've given up on order. Open a closet in my house, prepare to be avalanched. I keep going through stuff, thinking it's orderly, it's been culled, it's not so cluttery, only to lose something else. I bought 2 gift cards from Target for teachers the week before Thanksgiving. I was pretty proud of myself for being on the ball, and not having to run around like a crazy person the last week of school. I remember feeling pretty smug when I put those cards away and said, "Ha! Those cards will be safe here and I will remember where they are and then I will be able to slip them into the Christmas card envelopes and Voila! Presents!"
Pretty self satisfied, eh? If only, for love or money, I could remember where I put them. What the hell? I can't find them anywhere.
It's like banging my head against a wall.
The holidays are upon me. I'm getting that Christmassive anxiety feeling again.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
iPad? $500. Dignity? PRICELESS.
EVERYBODY knows by now that I'm Scrooge. I know that categorization certainly gives me a bah-humbug lens through which I see the world. I get it. (My BIL, JP really loves this phrase, so I'm trying to use it more) But here's the thing: Black Friday is ridiculous.
Why on God's green earth would I need a map of WalMart? Granted, I've never been in a WalMart, so indeed I probably could use a map, but I am not the map's target audience. I see people camping out in front of Best Buy. People actually MARKING the maps so they know which direction to stampede to first. BEFORE THANKSGIVING. The outlet malls are offering aptly named Midnight Madness sales. WHY?
What could these stores possibly be selling that would require me to forfeit my sleep and dignity? What plastic, crappy toy/gizmo/electronic/video game could I possibly feel SO compelled to buy that I would be willing to trample/be trampled to death for? WHAT are these stores selling that promotes such violence? Crack? I got my Big Book from Toys R Us. And there's nothing in there. Not even when my kids were babies would I venture into Toys R Us for any of that crap.
So here are my questions. If people cannot afford to buy this merchandise at the regular sale price rather than the BLACK FRIDAY sales price, then should they be buying the merchandise at all?
How many gifts are these people buying? How much money are they spending? Do they wake up on Christmas morning with presents overflowing from the living room, up the stairs, outside? Wait. Is there ACTUAL treasure in WalMart? Like do they hide wads of money, give people a map, and then let them trample each other to death in search of money? At least that's useful. It's no drumming Elmo, don't get me wrong, but it is useful.
Have these people not heard of the Internet? Nearly every gift I'm buying/requesting for the holidays is online. In some cases, exclusively available online. (Hello, Kindle.)
So here, roughly, is an approximation of the holiday shopping list I have. Generalized, of course.
Babies don't care about the holidays. They don't care if they've got a giggling Elmo or a giggling Fozzie Bear. They're babies.
Tweens like (I'm told) cool clothes, video games and electronics. The cool clothes are DEFINITELY not at WalMart. And people were already camping out for some insanely violent video game earlier this month. Could there be 2 video games worth camping for? Electronics are all available online. If you pay $4 more for an iPod online, that seems to be a reasonable exchange for a. Sleeping in one's own bed b. Not being trampled c. Not having to interact with the People of WalMart. Also, if you're buying a kid an iPod, isn't that the ONLY gift he's getting this year?
Teens like electronics. I'm thinking iTunes gift stores, Facebook credits for Dungeons of Dorkdom, or a new phone would please them. Again. No trip to WalMart necessary.
Wives want nothing from WalMart. I guarantee it. Most of them are there every week buying groceries, and I PROMISE you, husbands, that they are not walking by the Santa Theme tees thinking, "oooh. I can't wait for THAT to go on sale." Wives want stuff that comes from a) liquor stores b) jewelry stores c) spas d) expedia.com. NOTHING at WalMart says "here, honey, indulge yourself." I promise.
Husbands want wives not to spend money on Christmas gifts. I hate to be stereotypical about this. But maybe they do want that new flat screen, or maybe they do want new electronic gadgets or a new lawn mower, but generally husbands want one thing, and whatever that one thing is, they would rather their wives not abandon the kids for a day of shopping so soon after the Thanksgiving food stupor. I promise husbands would rather pay the slightly higher price and not babysit for all of Black Friday.
Teachers, casual friends: Starbucks cards. (Sure, one mega corp for another) or another cafe's gift card. This says, "hey. The holidays are insane. Let's get together after the holidays, sit in this lovely cafe and visit. Or, get yourself a nice latte one morning after the kids get off to school. Or, you do so much in the classroom, why don't you stop off for a fun mocha before work one day?
So, tell me then. What at WalMart provides a merrier, 'better' holiday? How is the mother of all mega companies helping people to live better? Is camping out, getting up at 3 AM, nervously elbowing one another, jockeying for position, potentially being pepper sprayed by the security guard REALLY living better?
I understand why people need WalMart. I understand that in a tight economy, deep discounts on food and clothing help a family stretch a budget. I understand why people buy at WalMart. I just don't understand why they buy INTO what WalMart is selling.
Why on God's green earth would I need a map of WalMart? Granted, I've never been in a WalMart, so indeed I probably could use a map, but I am not the map's target audience. I see people camping out in front of Best Buy. People actually MARKING the maps so they know which direction to stampede to first. BEFORE THANKSGIVING. The outlet malls are offering aptly named Midnight Madness sales. WHY?
What could these stores possibly be selling that would require me to forfeit my sleep and dignity? What plastic, crappy toy/gizmo/electronic/video game could I possibly feel SO compelled to buy that I would be willing to trample/be trampled to death for? WHAT are these stores selling that promotes such violence? Crack? I got my Big Book from Toys R Us. And there's nothing in there. Not even when my kids were babies would I venture into Toys R Us for any of that crap.
So here are my questions. If people cannot afford to buy this merchandise at the regular sale price rather than the BLACK FRIDAY sales price, then should they be buying the merchandise at all?
How many gifts are these people buying? How much money are they spending? Do they wake up on Christmas morning with presents overflowing from the living room, up the stairs, outside? Wait. Is there ACTUAL treasure in WalMart? Like do they hide wads of money, give people a map, and then let them trample each other to death in search of money? At least that's useful. It's no drumming Elmo, don't get me wrong, but it is useful.
Have these people not heard of the Internet? Nearly every gift I'm buying/requesting for the holidays is online. In some cases, exclusively available online. (Hello, Kindle.)
So here, roughly, is an approximation of the holiday shopping list I have. Generalized, of course.
Babies don't care about the holidays. They don't care if they've got a giggling Elmo or a giggling Fozzie Bear. They're babies.
Tweens like (I'm told) cool clothes, video games and electronics. The cool clothes are DEFINITELY not at WalMart. And people were already camping out for some insanely violent video game earlier this month. Could there be 2 video games worth camping for? Electronics are all available online. If you pay $4 more for an iPod online, that seems to be a reasonable exchange for a. Sleeping in one's own bed b. Not being trampled c. Not having to interact with the People of WalMart. Also, if you're buying a kid an iPod, isn't that the ONLY gift he's getting this year?
Teens like electronics. I'm thinking iTunes gift stores, Facebook credits for Dungeons of Dorkdom, or a new phone would please them. Again. No trip to WalMart necessary.
Wives want nothing from WalMart. I guarantee it. Most of them are there every week buying groceries, and I PROMISE you, husbands, that they are not walking by the Santa Theme tees thinking, "oooh. I can't wait for THAT to go on sale." Wives want stuff that comes from a) liquor stores b) jewelry stores c) spas d) expedia.com. NOTHING at WalMart says "here, honey, indulge yourself." I promise.
Husbands want wives not to spend money on Christmas gifts. I hate to be stereotypical about this. But maybe they do want that new flat screen, or maybe they do want new electronic gadgets or a new lawn mower, but generally husbands want one thing, and whatever that one thing is, they would rather their wives not abandon the kids for a day of shopping so soon after the Thanksgiving food stupor. I promise husbands would rather pay the slightly higher price and not babysit for all of Black Friday.
Teachers, casual friends: Starbucks cards. (Sure, one mega corp for another) or another cafe's gift card. This says, "hey. The holidays are insane. Let's get together after the holidays, sit in this lovely cafe and visit. Or, get yourself a nice latte one morning after the kids get off to school. Or, you do so much in the classroom, why don't you stop off for a fun mocha before work one day?
So, tell me then. What at WalMart provides a merrier, 'better' holiday? How is the mother of all mega companies helping people to live better? Is camping out, getting up at 3 AM, nervously elbowing one another, jockeying for position, potentially being pepper sprayed by the security guard REALLY living better?
I understand why people need WalMart. I understand that in a tight economy, deep discounts on food and clothing help a family stretch a budget. I understand why people buy at WalMart. I just don't understand why they buy INTO what WalMart is selling.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Egg-Prozac nog, and Klonopin Punch
This has been an extremely social weekend for us. Although, I have to say, that among our friends, M and I are probably average in the going out bunch. We have some friends who must have a babysitter who they can materialize out of nothing, because they do awesome stuff--parties, getaways, last minute vacations--and they represent one extreme of the spectrum. We also have friends who never do anything. Or if they do have a sitter, they spend their date night as just a couple. So, we are somewhere in between.
Honestly, though, if I have a sitter, I don't usually want to spend it as a twosome. M and I have been together for nearly 15 years now. I have told him every story about my life. He, of course, hasn't, but never will. He knows how I feel about everything. Even our conversations about contemporary events are fifteen minutes long and consist of my 5 bulleted thoughts on the subject, his 5 bulleted thoughts on the subject, and a concession that we don't agree or do, but that's all. I also have verbal diarrhea, so every evening when he comes home, I can tell him everything that happened in my day in the brief rundown, I get his brief rundown, we sort of commiserate, each (I suspect) privately think that his/hers was worse, and then, like ALL parents, turn and focus our attention/worries/love on our children.
So, yeah, I prefer to mix it up a little by being social. Sometimes a big group, more often a smaller. I like socializing with another couple best, since I can actually pay attention and be focused and not have the ADD of wondering what everyone else around me is doing. Friday, we had a couple over. They have no kids, but otherwise, have very similar interests and thoughts and I don't know either of them very well, so that was a very interesting evening. Low key. Casual.
Last night, we had our monthly dinner with another couple. Also very interesting. Smart, funny. Kids doing the same thing as ours. Commiserate, compare notes, self validate. Similar goals--good food, change of scene, back to respective homes and in bed before SNL comes on. We've known this couple practically since we've moved here, and they have truly grown to be among my favorites. Like us, they have a sense of humor about raising kids, and the pitfalls, and the insanity. We meet for the early bird special dinners, share wine, food, check up on one another and plan the next month's visit. It's a happy ritual.
But in scheduling our next visit, I realized how soon the holidays are going to be upon us. The holidays. School parties, forced socializing, gift shopping, crazed hours, false cheer. I might have to be a shut-in for a couple of weeks to prepare. I will not be able to control the terms of whom/where/how I visit. I will be categorized as the Grinch. (not undeserved, but I am always pointed out as the one lacking holiday enthusiasm.) I will be introduced to new people whose names I will not remember. I will stand around, hiding behind a glass of wine, seeking out familiar faces and monopolizing their attention for safety.
Hohoho. The holidays. The pharmacists' high season.
Honestly, though, if I have a sitter, I don't usually want to spend it as a twosome. M and I have been together for nearly 15 years now. I have told him every story about my life. He, of course, hasn't, but never will. He knows how I feel about everything. Even our conversations about contemporary events are fifteen minutes long and consist of my 5 bulleted thoughts on the subject, his 5 bulleted thoughts on the subject, and a concession that we don't agree or do, but that's all. I also have verbal diarrhea, so every evening when he comes home, I can tell him everything that happened in my day in the brief rundown, I get his brief rundown, we sort of commiserate, each (I suspect) privately think that his/hers was worse, and then, like ALL parents, turn and focus our attention/worries/love on our children.
So, yeah, I prefer to mix it up a little by being social. Sometimes a big group, more often a smaller. I like socializing with another couple best, since I can actually pay attention and be focused and not have the ADD of wondering what everyone else around me is doing. Friday, we had a couple over. They have no kids, but otherwise, have very similar interests and thoughts and I don't know either of them very well, so that was a very interesting evening. Low key. Casual.
Last night, we had our monthly dinner with another couple. Also very interesting. Smart, funny. Kids doing the same thing as ours. Commiserate, compare notes, self validate. Similar goals--good food, change of scene, back to respective homes and in bed before SNL comes on. We've known this couple practically since we've moved here, and they have truly grown to be among my favorites. Like us, they have a sense of humor about raising kids, and the pitfalls, and the insanity. We meet for the early bird special dinners, share wine, food, check up on one another and plan the next month's visit. It's a happy ritual.
But in scheduling our next visit, I realized how soon the holidays are going to be upon us. The holidays. School parties, forced socializing, gift shopping, crazed hours, false cheer. I might have to be a shut-in for a couple of weeks to prepare. I will not be able to control the terms of whom/where/how I visit. I will be categorized as the Grinch. (not undeserved, but I am always pointed out as the one lacking holiday enthusiasm.) I will be introduced to new people whose names I will not remember. I will stand around, hiding behind a glass of wine, seeking out familiar faces and monopolizing their attention for safety.
Hohoho. The holidays. The pharmacists' high season.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Chandel wins; OR How to pull me out of a funk OR Be careful what you wish for
Most. Embarrassing. Moment. Ever.
Seriously. More than getting fall-down drunk in front of friends a couple of weeks ago. More than getting stood up. More than inappropriate jokes I've told in front of the wrong people. More than ANYthing I've ever done while under the influence of anything.
I met a woman yesterday who took me at my word. Who pushed a joke further than I ever have. Who was fearless in her humor. Who was balls-out unstoppable. She wins. She wins for embarrassing me more than I have EVER embarrassed anyone. EVER.
Chandel, Lowe's employee. She wins. I completely surrender. I left Lowe's yesterday, mortified. Blushing. Embarrassed to the core. Chandel, my hat's off.
Here's how she won:
I went to Lowe's to buy some replacement Adirondack chairs for the kids' school's front porch. Between us, M and I sit in them every afternoon, and the old ones had fallen victim (I suspect) to some unruly jumping. I entered Lowe's. Went directly to Chandel's line. Asked her if I may purchase 4 Adirondack chairs (blue) that were displayed in front of the store.
Chandel took a piece of paper, excused herself and went to get the SKU number off of the stack of chairs. She returned. Conducted the transaction.
I asked if it were possible for some one to separate the 4 purchased chairs from the stack and put them in my car, as all of the chairs were chained together for security. She nodded, and said, "uh-huh. Baby, you're lookin' at her. Lemme ring up these folks behind you, and I'll be right out to help ya."
Here's where things went sour:
"Chandel, you? I don't want YOU to have to go out there again. Don't you have some eye candy that can go out there and get 'em for me?"
"Honey, who you want?"
"I'm joking. I just thought it'd be funny to ask for eye candy."
"No, who you want? The real eye candy don't work during the week, but I find you some one."
"No, NO. That's ok. I was kidding. I'll see you out there, Chandel."
"How 'bout that guy behind you?"
(I turn, there's a guy in line behind me. Regular Joe Painter. NOT eye candy, NOT a Lowe's employee.)
"Um, he doesn't work here?!"
"Aw, he's got a ring on. He's married. No good."
"I'll see you outside."
By now, I'm embarrassed, but not terribly. Our conversation was loud enough for the guy behind me to hear, but it wasn't inappropriate or anything. I move my car. I clear out all the kid crap in the back. I double check--I AM wearing my wedding rings.
I'm waiting. Right by the Adirondack chairs. Chandel comes out with this cute guy. I mean C-U-T-E. Not a Joe Plumber. He appeared reasonably fit. Six two or so. Probably my age, maybe younger. Wearing a cap, but looking NOT like an average Alabamian at Lowe's. He smiled. Nice smile. Straight. All his teeth. Well groomed, hip blondish beard. Not wearing football attire affiliated with any SEC school.
No navy Lowe's vest.
Chandel's eyes are twinkling. She's walking in front of him, and indicates with her hands that he appears to have a nice derriere. She's making faces to indicate she thinks he's attractive, and winking and confidentially assuring me that she's picked a good melon.
Guy smiles directly at me. He introduces himself, but now, I can't even come close to recalling what he said. He's cute. I'm blushing. And, suddenly, sweating. Very adeptly, he gets the chairs off the giant stack, and starts to put them in the car. Chandel is going crazy behind him with silent gestures. As Guy is loading the car, Chandel comes over and says she needs to sign my receipt. Wha? She hands me a slip of paper with Guy's phone number! She took it down when he gave it to her as part of his credit card transaction. WHA? She jams a notebook and a pen into my hand, demands that I write my number on it.
I'm really sweating now. I look up at Guy. He seems to know what the hell is going on. Why don't I?
I push the notebook away... NO. I'm not giving him my number. I wanted eye candy not a booty call. Things are very out of control now. I'm sweating profusely, and I can feel hives coming up on my neck for everyone to see (my body manifests embarrassment and intoxication with hives. Not helpful for playing it cool.) Guy closes the hatch on the Jetta wagon, smiling and "there ya go"-ing, and he IS handsome, and everything is swirling, and I'm married. I mean mortified.
Chandel looks at me, "Chicken," she practically hisses. What, is there a pimp fee for her at stake here? WHA?
I thank Guy. Shake his hand. Drop the crumbled piece of paper with his phone number on the ground intentionally, as I slide in the drivers' seat. Nonchalantly. Guy did nothing wrong, I don't want to be rude.
I practically screech out of the parking lot. I've got the windows down, the air on, all the way. I check myself in the rear view, and the hives are HUGE on my neck. The apples of my cheeks are so red, they are physically hot. I'm dying.
I backtrack in my mind. Where did things go from funny to holy shit? Was it not clear that I was joking? Married? Being kind of a sexist jerk for fun? I have a momentary flash--how far could that have gone?--but it flies out of my brain almost instantly.
I have to start going to Home Depot.
Seriously. More than getting fall-down drunk in front of friends a couple of weeks ago. More than getting stood up. More than inappropriate jokes I've told in front of the wrong people. More than ANYthing I've ever done while under the influence of anything.
I met a woman yesterday who took me at my word. Who pushed a joke further than I ever have. Who was fearless in her humor. Who was balls-out unstoppable. She wins. She wins for embarrassing me more than I have EVER embarrassed anyone. EVER.
Chandel, Lowe's employee. She wins. I completely surrender. I left Lowe's yesterday, mortified. Blushing. Embarrassed to the core. Chandel, my hat's off.
Here's how she won:
I went to Lowe's to buy some replacement Adirondack chairs for the kids' school's front porch. Between us, M and I sit in them every afternoon, and the old ones had fallen victim (I suspect) to some unruly jumping. I entered Lowe's. Went directly to Chandel's line. Asked her if I may purchase 4 Adirondack chairs (blue) that were displayed in front of the store.
Chandel took a piece of paper, excused herself and went to get the SKU number off of the stack of chairs. She returned. Conducted the transaction.
I asked if it were possible for some one to separate the 4 purchased chairs from the stack and put them in my car, as all of the chairs were chained together for security. She nodded, and said, "uh-huh. Baby, you're lookin' at her. Lemme ring up these folks behind you, and I'll be right out to help ya."
Here's where things went sour:
"Chandel, you? I don't want YOU to have to go out there again. Don't you have some eye candy that can go out there and get 'em for me?"
"Honey, who you want?"
"I'm joking. I just thought it'd be funny to ask for eye candy."
"No, who you want? The real eye candy don't work during the week, but I find you some one."
"No, NO. That's ok. I was kidding. I'll see you out there, Chandel."
"How 'bout that guy behind you?"
(I turn, there's a guy in line behind me. Regular Joe Painter. NOT eye candy, NOT a Lowe's employee.)
"Um, he doesn't work here?!"
"Aw, he's got a ring on. He's married. No good."
"I'll see you outside."
By now, I'm embarrassed, but not terribly. Our conversation was loud enough for the guy behind me to hear, but it wasn't inappropriate or anything. I move my car. I clear out all the kid crap in the back. I double check--I AM wearing my wedding rings.
I'm waiting. Right by the Adirondack chairs. Chandel comes out with this cute guy. I mean C-U-T-E. Not a Joe Plumber. He appeared reasonably fit. Six two or so. Probably my age, maybe younger. Wearing a cap, but looking NOT like an average Alabamian at Lowe's. He smiled. Nice smile. Straight. All his teeth. Well groomed, hip blondish beard. Not wearing football attire affiliated with any SEC school.
No navy Lowe's vest.
Chandel's eyes are twinkling. She's walking in front of him, and indicates with her hands that he appears to have a nice derriere. She's making faces to indicate she thinks he's attractive, and winking and confidentially assuring me that she's picked a good melon.
Guy smiles directly at me. He introduces himself, but now, I can't even come close to recalling what he said. He's cute. I'm blushing. And, suddenly, sweating. Very adeptly, he gets the chairs off the giant stack, and starts to put them in the car. Chandel is going crazy behind him with silent gestures. As Guy is loading the car, Chandel comes over and says she needs to sign my receipt. Wha? She hands me a slip of paper with Guy's phone number! She took it down when he gave it to her as part of his credit card transaction. WHA? She jams a notebook and a pen into my hand, demands that I write my number on it.
I'm really sweating now. I look up at Guy. He seems to know what the hell is going on. Why don't I?
I push the notebook away... NO. I'm not giving him my number. I wanted eye candy not a booty call. Things are very out of control now. I'm sweating profusely, and I can feel hives coming up on my neck for everyone to see (my body manifests embarrassment and intoxication with hives. Not helpful for playing it cool.) Guy closes the hatch on the Jetta wagon, smiling and "there ya go"-ing, and he IS handsome, and everything is swirling, and I'm married. I mean mortified.
Chandel looks at me, "Chicken," she practically hisses. What, is there a pimp fee for her at stake here? WHA?
I thank Guy. Shake his hand. Drop the crumbled piece of paper with his phone number on the ground intentionally, as I slide in the drivers' seat. Nonchalantly. Guy did nothing wrong, I don't want to be rude.
I practically screech out of the parking lot. I've got the windows down, the air on, all the way. I check myself in the rear view, and the hives are HUGE on my neck. The apples of my cheeks are so red, they are physically hot. I'm dying.
I backtrack in my mind. Where did things go from funny to holy shit? Was it not clear that I was joking? Married? Being kind of a sexist jerk for fun? I have a momentary flash--how far could that have gone?--but it flies out of my brain almost instantly.
I have to start going to Home Depot.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
A real-life "hold" button?
I guess it has to happen. There's always a "worst" storm in history, the stock market has its "worst" day. Yesterday appears to have been mine. According to M, anyway.
Per my husband, yesterday was the "worst" mood he's ever seen me in. This, after 15 years together. After planning a wedding, moving like a jillion times, two pregnancies (and I was NOT nice during those, for those of you who recall), and all kinds of other crap, this is apparently it. THIS. Me, right now, is as foul as I can be. To date, anyway.
What prompted this foul mood, you ask? Well, I kinda hate to itemize it, as it reads like the sob story of the problems of the 1%, but some will understand. Perhaps just one of my grievances will resonate, and some of my readers will say, "oh. Well. There's THAT. THAT would push me over the edge, too."
In no particular order,
Per my husband, yesterday was the "worst" mood he's ever seen me in. This, after 15 years together. After planning a wedding, moving like a jillion times, two pregnancies (and I was NOT nice during those, for those of you who recall), and all kinds of other crap, this is apparently it. THIS. Me, right now, is as foul as I can be. To date, anyway.
What prompted this foul mood, you ask? Well, I kinda hate to itemize it, as it reads like the sob story of the problems of the 1%, but some will understand. Perhaps just one of my grievances will resonate, and some of my readers will say, "oh. Well. There's THAT. THAT would push me over the edge, too."
In no particular order,
- After a summer hiatus that started in April and ended last week, Bones has returned to TV. Suffering from the inevitable "Moonlighting" downfall of the protagonists having sex. But not JUST sex, no no. They're having a baby. That'll kill the sexual tension FOREVER. Also, the writers seem to have killed off the main character's already existing son, just so he could concentrate on the new fetus. Do they think I'm not paying attention? Disappointment.
- My parents and my sister are in Hawaii. My parents have been there for 3 weeks already. Am I in Hawaii? No, sir, I am most definitely not.
- I'm very disappointed that a potentially fun and interesting job opportunity did not pan out, through no fault of my own, but rather on account of the potential employer.
- In order to lose weight, I have decided to keep drinking down to the weekend. It's making me cranky(ier).
- Politics--local, national, and global--make me ill.
- The battery on my first generation Kindle no longer holds a charge.
- Sirius Radio seems to have decided to only play Adele and Coldplay. On all 2,000 channels.
- The last two issues may not be so critical, except that Monday through Wednesday, my afternoons are spent in my car. Not driving around so much, but actually just sitting. In. My. Car. On Mondays, S swims for an hour. Then E for an hour. On Tuesdays, S goes to art for an hour and a half. On Wednesdays, S swims for an hour. E has piano lessons for an hour. In full disclosure, usually M takes E for the piano lessons, and that really helps, but this week, it's all me. Which, as you can imagine, is AWESOME. Especially when I hear "Someone Like You" for the fourth time.
- I need a haircut and hate the way I look. I'm not whining about fatness or age or whatever. I'm not trying to fit into society's stereotype of 'beautiful' or anything...bah. Who am I kidding? I wish I could look like a movie star.
- My kids always bitch about dinner. No matter what I make. There's something wrong with it. Too spicy, has chicken, too chewy, too many vegetables. Whatever it is. I'm sick of their ingratitude. It's hard to cook five nights a week. And I try hard and spend a lot of money and time doing it, and they're like blech.
- My kids are training to be attorneys. Not that lawyers, as a whole, are evil or anything. But I'm just not up for constant debate. Sometimes the answer is "BECAUSE I'M IN CHARGE." But no. Last night, S gets up on the couch right between me and M. Please move, says I. WHY? Because I was sitting next to M and I was comfy and now I'm not. But I WANT to sit there. And then, what happens? I have to yell. And S looks at me like I grew another head or something, and sheesh, Mom. I just wanted to sit there.
- Had a couple of fun nights out over the weekend. But then some one told me that I made a big impression. That I was fun, but completely crazy. And I realized that apparently, people are laughing AT me, rather than WITH me. And that makes me feel self conscious and sad. Especially since it's coming from an academic.
- Every time S does something wrong, he screams, "BUT I DIDN'T KNOW!" For example, putting the dog in the dump truck and sending it down the stairs. Then wondering why the dog was avoiding him...."But I didn't know it would scare him." No, really. Dogs love being hurtled down 14 stairs with no restraint in a rickety toy. S spills Kool Aid while jump roping on the carpet..."But I didn't KNOW the drink would spill while jump roping." (See the attorney entry above.)
- E disappears into his room the second he gets home. God knows what he does up there. But he's not setting the table or folding laundry, or taking out the dog, or participating in our family in any way. The result? I have to yell at him to bring him downstairs for each individual task I'd like him to do. "E!!!! COME PRACTICE THE PIANO!" After 30 minutes, he's gone. "E!!! COME TAKE OUT THE DOG." After 5 minutes, he's gone. "E! COME HELP YOUR BROTHER SET THE TABLE!" After that, he's gone. I've tried making the bedroom off limits, and compelling him to be with us, but that prompts the worst behaviour ever, and I'd rather he be away than fighting with his brother.
- I'm feeling rather hateful towards Mobile, AL. When you're wretchedly miserable, sometimes it's nice to take comfort in your environs. In my adolescence, I could always hit the beach. Actually, the same in Chicago. No matter where I go here, it seems the mark of close minded people has been left. It's difficult to separate the town from the politics and the ickier of our fellow citizens.
- I'm not sleeping well.
- Some of my friends have let me down. I don't mean like flakiness or verbal misstep. As if I could judge anyone on those criteria. I mean actually disappointed me. Like I thought we understood we were necessary to each other's lives. Like we were a mutual source of sanity. And apparently, not.
- S was playing with a salt shaker while eating breakfast this morning. (If it's not yours don't touch it--our household mantra, had momentarily slipped his mind.) And he rolled it right off the table into a million pieces and a mountain of salt. Do I care that it's broken? A little. Do I care that I now have a lonely, mismatched pepper shaker? Some. Do I care that I've asked him a million times NOT to play with it? Yes. Do I care that he didn't apologize? Yes. Do I care that this reflects his lack of respect for my things, a lack of listening and following directions? Mostly. What pissed me off the most? His immediate response, while the poof of salt was still hanging in the air, "I DIDN'T KNOW!"
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Idle thoughts on a rainy day
Sometimes I forget how freaking lucky I am. Some people may say blessed, but you know me, I'm going to ascribe it to a random series of coincidence, chemistry, and out and out luck.
I am lucky. While I wasn't born into the hated 1%, I WAS born into the upper portion of the 99%. My parents were of a different generation. When the American Dream, as it were, was slightly less than just a dream. I was healthy growing up. And what wasn't "perfect health" was repaired, treated, or fixed by incredibly competent physicians.
I'm smart. Not Steve Jobs smart, but smart. I went to good, quality, public schools. Schools that were clean and safe, and staffed by competent, intelligent teachers. They led me to an incredibly good university.
I succeeded. I maybe could have succeeded even more. But I had a lot of fun as well. I gained life experience, I saw a little bit of the world. I fell in love with some one who was smart, hard working, and respectful. Some one who laughed with me, and with whom I shared common values and ambitions.
I traveled. All over the western world. There's so much more to see, but reality and kids eventually caught up with us. But I saw enough to know that I want to see more.
My kids are healthy. They aren't perfect, but whatever isn't 'perfect' is treated, repaired, or fixed by the best physicians I can find. They're lucky, too. They're smart. They're succeeding.
Unfortunately, they're inheriting a worse world than I. I worry about that a lot. A huge amount of our society is teetering on a brink right now. Individuals, values, a sense of community are at stake. I worry that my kids' good luck, coincidence, and chemistry may not be enough for them. That one foot will slip, and the entire body of their world will fall. Are they equipped enough to withstand that? Am I equipped to let that happen to my babies? Sometimes I think maybe instead of piano lessons, they should be going to survivalist camp. Will it be possible for them, and the rest of their generation to fix everything? Not to be just what I experienced, but to be different? Better? IS BETTER even possible?
Or is today just one of those days, where I should turn on TV, open a bottle of wine, and just assume it's going to be ok?
I am lucky. While I wasn't born into the hated 1%, I WAS born into the upper portion of the 99%. My parents were of a different generation. When the American Dream, as it were, was slightly less than just a dream. I was healthy growing up. And what wasn't "perfect health" was repaired, treated, or fixed by incredibly competent physicians.
I'm smart. Not Steve Jobs smart, but smart. I went to good, quality, public schools. Schools that were clean and safe, and staffed by competent, intelligent teachers. They led me to an incredibly good university.
I succeeded. I maybe could have succeeded even more. But I had a lot of fun as well. I gained life experience, I saw a little bit of the world. I fell in love with some one who was smart, hard working, and respectful. Some one who laughed with me, and with whom I shared common values and ambitions.
I traveled. All over the western world. There's so much more to see, but reality and kids eventually caught up with us. But I saw enough to know that I want to see more.
My kids are healthy. They aren't perfect, but whatever isn't 'perfect' is treated, repaired, or fixed by the best physicians I can find. They're lucky, too. They're smart. They're succeeding.
Unfortunately, they're inheriting a worse world than I. I worry about that a lot. A huge amount of our society is teetering on a brink right now. Individuals, values, a sense of community are at stake. I worry that my kids' good luck, coincidence, and chemistry may not be enough for them. That one foot will slip, and the entire body of their world will fall. Are they equipped enough to withstand that? Am I equipped to let that happen to my babies? Sometimes I think maybe instead of piano lessons, they should be going to survivalist camp. Will it be possible for them, and the rest of their generation to fix everything? Not to be just what I experienced, but to be different? Better? IS BETTER even possible?
Or is today just one of those days, where I should turn on TV, open a bottle of wine, and just assume it's going to be ok?
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Apply within
May I please have a personal assistant? I'm not going to go so far as to say I NEED a personal assistant, but pshew, it'd be nice.
I'm not as busy as a lot of moms, true. I don't have an "outside the home job." But, I'm crazier than a lot of moms, and lemme tell you, that leaves a lot of slack to be picked up.
Here is my ad:
NEEDED. PERSONAL ASST. SALARY SAME AS BOSS! HRS FLEXIBLE (ANYTIME, 24/7)
I'm not as busy as a lot of moms, true. I don't have an "outside the home job." But, I'm crazier than a lot of moms, and lemme tell you, that leaves a lot of slack to be picked up.
Here is my ad:
NEEDED. PERSONAL ASST. SALARY SAME AS BOSS! HRS FLEXIBLE (ANYTIME, 24/7)
- make phone calls to physicians, utilities, contractors that I'm too neurotic to make
- remind me of my schedule. Do not be fooled by the fact that I have 2 planners and a wall calendar. I have no idea what the hell is going on.
- force me to exercise. I WILL play Bejeweled for hours on end, just to say "I didn't have time today."
- plan meal calendars
- set aside "me" time
- organize paperwork
- make to do lists of reasonable length and content. None of this "re-line all drawers with scented paper" crap that's never gonna happen
- hide the cookies
- prepare correspondence for regular post. I'll dictate, your handwriting is neater
- schedule nap times, screen calls during naps, maximize my nap efficiency
- remind family members of any upcoming responsibility so they complain to you
- deal with unwanted interactions
- refill my meds
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