I am feeling rusty.
After several days on my back and a couple more sick with what seemed to be the stomach flu, and countless little pity parties, I am rusty at this mom stuff.
Emotionally, that is. I found myself yelling this morning right out of the gates, and feeling both ashamed and unable to stop. I berated myself silently and took it out on my kids outwardly, and finally broke down crying.
Then I asked for help.
I'm learning (again and again) how important is what you do when you think you don't know what to do. When you really don't know how to summon the strength--physical, emotional, or both--to face what the day holds. Whether it's because you gave birth through your nose a few days ago and then got the stomach flu, or because you're exhausted, or because you've had a baby, or it's just a difficult day/week/month/year!
These are the times I feel define me. Do I go on behaving like an ogre? Or do I let go of my frustration, guilt, and desire to be in control of it all, and ask for help?
I sent Phill a message. Something like...."I can't do this today. HELP." His response, well-measured and compassionate, was to say a prayer, apologize, start over, and forgive. (Myself and everyone else involved in the little fiasco) So I did. I prayed. I cried some more. And then I held Jaxon and tearfully apologized for yelling, and did my best to mend our bond.
And then he was calm.
And I was calm.
And we were happy again.
I love second chances. Twentieth chances, too. I don't like that I need them....but I'm glad I have them.
Afterthought: Do I sound....preachy? Presumptuous? Smug? Not my intention....
Showing posts with label Procrastirealirant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Procrastirealirant. Show all posts
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Amazingly, this self-piteous post does not coincide with any hormonal fluctuations. Imagine THAT!
Dear Friends.
I'm afraid lately I'm a lot of take and quite a bit less give.
The truth is....I am overwhelmed. Very. A long list of things to be tended to, on top of the everyday tending, which is sliding because I just can't. do. it. all.
Well, I can. I just have to muster up enough energy and cheerfulness. And that, sweet readers, is in short supply.
I am sapped because Phill will likely be deployed in a few months and moving forward and progressing means moving closer to that day. I'm sapped because there are so many areas of my life that need improvement--all important areas, so that it's hard to know exactly where to put my attention first!
{Here all the "I" in this post? Right, that's where I am at the moment. A little side of sad to go with my big plate of self-pity, thank you so much.}
Usually I strive to make this blog a happy, uplifting place. But it's also an honest place, and, I am finding, often a {self} comforting place.
So--that is my gripe today, my sad little story. I am going to go to bed and wake up with the determination to do everything that I don't want to--that is, everything that needs to be done {hello dishes, good day laundry, on my way phone calls and papers and photos} so that at last, I will feel some peace and some satisfaction in a job well done, my fear of moving forward momentarily at bay.
I'm afraid lately I'm a lot of take and quite a bit less give.
The truth is....I am overwhelmed. Very. A long list of things to be tended to, on top of the everyday tending, which is sliding because I just can't. do. it. all.
Well, I can. I just have to muster up enough energy and cheerfulness. And that, sweet readers, is in short supply.
I am sapped because Phill will likely be deployed in a few months and moving forward and progressing means moving closer to that day. I'm sapped because there are so many areas of my life that need improvement--all important areas, so that it's hard to know exactly where to put my attention first!
{Here all the "I" in this post? Right, that's where I am at the moment. A little side of sad to go with my big plate of self-pity, thank you so much.}
Usually I strive to make this blog a happy, uplifting place. But it's also an honest place, and, I am finding, often a {self} comforting place.
So--that is my gripe today, my sad little story. I am going to go to bed and wake up with the determination to do everything that I don't want to--that is, everything that needs to be done {hello dishes, good day laundry, on my way phone calls and papers and photos} so that at last, I will feel some peace and some satisfaction in a job well done, my fear of moving forward momentarily at bay.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
WHOA is me....
I just would like to say that this is how I feel today:
And I would also like to say, because oh MAN am I feeling it today:
I am longing for the days when the carpet is not used as a toilet by anyone.
I am so mentally/emotionally tired that even writing this post is taking a painful amount of brain cells.
Today was.....today was just in my face. Just WHOA. WHOA there.....steady.
I will sob with joy the first time the kids go more than 30 minutes without some fight about something.
If I still have all my hair by the time I am 27, I will be pleasantly shocked.
And lastly.....
Oh, how I love my children. How they exhaust and challenge and stretch my patience, causing me to have to grow in the most uncomfortable inconvenient ways....and oh, how I love them for it.
And tonight when I finished helping Reed finish his homework (last minute, at 9:00p.m., because we enable each other's slacking tendencies), and he called to me from his room when I was IN THE BATHROOM FOR CRYING OUT LOUD and I was so tired and so done that I barked out, "WHAT! I AM IN THE BATHROOM!" and he answered, "Thank you for helping me with my homework".....I almost cried from shame.
It's just that today is one of those days--one of those days when I am weary. So for now, I'm just letting the water works come. It's all good....this too shall pass, within me there is a peacefulness that cannot be disturbed, I am not this feeling, yada yada yada. Sometimes I just need to cry like a baby. And blog like a baby.
*Dear Foleys, thank you for the use of your darling baby in this totally self-piteous post. For the record, he is the cutest crying baby ever--WAY cuter than when I'M crying. :)
And I would also like to say, because oh MAN am I feeling it today:
I am longing for the days when the carpet is not used as a toilet by anyone.
I am so mentally/emotionally tired that even writing this post is taking a painful amount of brain cells.
Today was.....today was just in my face. Just WHOA. WHOA there.....steady.
I will sob with joy the first time the kids go more than 30 minutes without some fight about something.
If I still have all my hair by the time I am 27, I will be pleasantly shocked.
And lastly.....
Oh, how I love my children. How they exhaust and challenge and stretch my patience, causing me to have to grow in the most uncomfortable inconvenient ways....and oh, how I love them for it.
And tonight when I finished helping Reed finish his homework (last minute, at 9:00p.m., because we enable each other's slacking tendencies), and he called to me from his room when I was IN THE BATHROOM FOR CRYING OUT LOUD and I was so tired and so done that I barked out, "WHAT! I AM IN THE BATHROOM!" and he answered, "Thank you for helping me with my homework".....I almost cried from shame.
It's just that today is one of those days--one of those days when I am weary. So for now, I'm just letting the water works come. It's all good....this too shall pass, within me there is a peacefulness that cannot be disturbed, I am not this feeling, yada yada yada. Sometimes I just need to cry like a baby. And blog like a baby.
*Dear Foleys, thank you for the use of your darling baby in this totally self-piteous post. For the record, he is the cutest crying baby ever--WAY cuter than when I'M crying. :)
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Mommy Mantra #6: I Am Not This Feeling
I needed to remind myself today that I am not Stress, I am not Frustration, I am not Selfishness. I am Rae--who sometimes (or often) feels stress, frustration, or selfish. Enjoy the quote!
"Sometimes feelings set in for extended stays, as with depression. Or for some of us, we have habitual and reflexive ways of dealing with certain events...I am not this feeling [liberates us] from having to react to the situation in [our] old conditioned way. Of course, if you are telling yourself you're an anxious person, you'll act anxiously. One would anticipate angry people to react with anger. But reminding yourself that you are larger than any given emotion offers the potential to react with a greater spectrum of responses. It's easy with the enormous and often uncivilized demands of mothering to overidentify with our emotions and label ourselves as angry, fed up, or stressed. And while these may be a part of who we are at any given moment, the truth is that we are also much more...there is another way of perceiving our emotions and ourselves."
Pages 27 &28, Mommy Mantras by Bethany E. Casarjian, Ph.D. & Diane H. Dillon, Ph.D.
"Sometimes feelings set in for extended stays, as with depression. Or for some of us, we have habitual and reflexive ways of dealing with certain events...I am not this feeling [liberates us] from having to react to the situation in [our] old conditioned way. Of course, if you are telling yourself you're an anxious person, you'll act anxiously. One would anticipate angry people to react with anger. But reminding yourself that you are larger than any given emotion offers the potential to react with a greater spectrum of responses. It's easy with the enormous and often uncivilized demands of mothering to overidentify with our emotions and label ourselves as angry, fed up, or stressed. And while these may be a part of who we are at any given moment, the truth is that we are also much more...there is another way of perceiving our emotions and ourselves."
Pages 27 &28, Mommy Mantras by Bethany E. Casarjian, Ph.D. & Diane H. Dillon, Ph.D.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
I Just Wanted to Say to You Readers:
If your 4-year-old punched your 6-year-old in the nose and made it bleed,
you're not alone.
If your 2-year-old punctured your 4-year-old's foot with a rake,
you're not alone.
If your bathroom smells disgusting, takes an hour to deep-clean, and STILL smells disgusting afterwards,
you're not alone.
If your 4-year-old uses his carpet for a toilet,
you're not alone!!
And if you find it simply exhausting and overwhelming to keep your temper in check when all of these things happen in ONE DAY.....
you guessed it. You're not alone.
It has been quite the day. I will recover, but at the moment, I have put myself in time-out until I feel forgiving.
you're not alone.
If your 2-year-old punctured your 4-year-old's foot with a rake,
you're not alone.
If your bathroom smells disgusting, takes an hour to deep-clean, and STILL smells disgusting afterwards,
you're not alone.
If your 4-year-old uses his carpet for a toilet,
you're not alone!!
And if you find it simply exhausting and overwhelming to keep your temper in check when all of these things happen in ONE DAY.....
you guessed it. You're not alone.
It has been quite the day. I will recover, but at the moment, I have put myself in time-out until I feel forgiving.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
realism
Just being really forthright here--
I finally cleaned today. I didn't do top-to-bottom whole-house cleaning. But I took care of some stuff that I had been procrastinating for the last few weeks. (Not an exaggeration.)
Which means I:
emptied milk-chunk out of sippee cups
laboriously scraped dried frosting off of several dishes
unloaded the dishwasher, loaded it full, then washed the remaining forty minutes of dishes
swept (This was disgusting. I have not swept for....hm.....uh. I can't remember. That's BAD.)
vacuumed (This was satisfying.)
wiped down counters
and lastly, which was HUGE for me:
I cleared the desk of all papers, and actually sorted the papers into Trash, File, and Pay Attention.
My reward is a somewhat more clear conscience, a sore mid-back, tired dry eyes, lurking worry about waking up in the morning, resignation to the fact that it will all be undone eventually, and contentment--contentment when I look around my livingroom and kitchen and see what I've done tonight.
I could make excuses like, oh, say, August 2009 was the busiest month of my life. But I know that the root of it all is my persistent procrastinating self! My only real excuse is lack of motivation!
So. Not too important. Certainly not my most impressive post. But I thought it might be nice for the rest of you procrastinators out there to know you're not alone. ;)
I finally cleaned today. I didn't do top-to-bottom whole-house cleaning. But I took care of some stuff that I had been procrastinating for the last few weeks. (Not an exaggeration.)
Which means I:
emptied milk-chunk out of sippee cups
laboriously scraped dried frosting off of several dishes
unloaded the dishwasher, loaded it full, then washed the remaining forty minutes of dishes
swept (This was disgusting. I have not swept for....hm.....uh. I can't remember. That's BAD.)
vacuumed (This was satisfying.)
wiped down counters
and lastly, which was HUGE for me:
I cleared the desk of all papers, and actually sorted the papers into Trash, File, and Pay Attention.
My reward is a somewhat more clear conscience, a sore mid-back, tired dry eyes, lurking worry about waking up in the morning, resignation to the fact that it will all be undone eventually, and contentment--contentment when I look around my livingroom and kitchen and see what I've done tonight.
I could make excuses like, oh, say, August 2009 was the busiest month of my life. But I know that the root of it all is my persistent procrastinating self! My only real excuse is lack of motivation!
So. Not too important. Certainly not my most impressive post. But I thought it might be nice for the rest of you procrastinators out there to know you're not alone. ;)
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Assorted Thoughts & Heat Rage
So much to say; hence the silence: where to start?
I ran 16 miles last Saturday. I was surprised--well actually, flabbergasted--by how good it felt, and how good I felt even when it was over. I highly suspect it had lots to do with the gallon of water I consumed from my Camelbak while running. This bodes well for me!
Reed lost his first tooth. First grade, first tooth....whew. This boy is moving at high-speed, and I'm only barely at his heels. When he got to school that morning (yeah, it happened the morning before school--so perfect!), he was so....cool. Confident and calm, walking with the posture of a changed man. "Yeah, I lost a tooth. What of it?"
Remember when I said Abby, my beautiful sister, and her 4 beautiful girls, were visiting? Here is some evidence--
Tomorrow, I will go up north for a girls' weekend to celebrate my birthday! (which was the 18th, and was lovely) I have no idea what is entailed--Phill has planned it all with smiling hints and intriguing leads, but no real information. I'm excited! I love to be surprised!
It is hot today (111, folks), and it is getting to me. Phill says the seizure was sort of a heat injury, and that my tolerance for heat/cold may be lowered for a while. I must admit that 92 does feel a little more torturous than usual--not to mention 111! Actually, I've always been a wimp about hot temperatures. My temper seems to flare with the heat, so I tend to simply shut my mouth. (If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all....) So today has been a quiet, grumpy one--plus a few emotional outbursts on my part. I just.....I just want to yell when the sun is beating on my face and my *sweet* children are saying, "Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!" and tugging at my shirt collar, exposing my bosom for all to see. (No joke! Three times on the walk from the school to the car.)
Needless to say, I probably should go drink some cold water, cuddle with my children, hug my husband, and do some cleaning.
Please pardon my crankiness. It's temporary.
I ran 16 miles last Saturday. I was surprised--well actually, flabbergasted--by how good it felt, and how good I felt even when it was over. I highly suspect it had lots to do with the gallon of water I consumed from my Camelbak while running. This bodes well for me!
Reed lost his first tooth. First grade, first tooth....whew. This boy is moving at high-speed, and I'm only barely at his heels. When he got to school that morning (yeah, it happened the morning before school--so perfect!), he was so....cool. Confident and calm, walking with the posture of a changed man. "Yeah, I lost a tooth. What of it?"
Remember when I said Abby, my beautiful sister, and her 4 beautiful girls, were visiting? Here is some evidence--
Tomorrow, I will go up north for a girls' weekend to celebrate my birthday! (which was the 18th, and was lovely) I have no idea what is entailed--Phill has planned it all with smiling hints and intriguing leads, but no real information. I'm excited! I love to be surprised!
It is hot today (111, folks), and it is getting to me. Phill says the seizure was sort of a heat injury, and that my tolerance for heat/cold may be lowered for a while. I must admit that 92 does feel a little more torturous than usual--not to mention 111! Actually, I've always been a wimp about hot temperatures. My temper seems to flare with the heat, so I tend to simply shut my mouth. (If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all....) So today has been a quiet, grumpy one--plus a few emotional outbursts on my part. I just.....I just want to yell when the sun is beating on my face and my *sweet* children are saying, "Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!" and tugging at my shirt collar, exposing my bosom for all to see. (No joke! Three times on the walk from the school to the car.)
Needless to say, I probably should go drink some cold water, cuddle with my children, hug my husband, and do some cleaning.
Please pardon my crankiness. It's temporary.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Doing it anyway (yet again)
It is 9:27 in the morning and Savanna has changed shoes 4 times.
First, she wore the practical (pink) tennis shoes.
Then she found her blue-tie-dye Crocs and had to have them. "These one."
When she spotted the church shoes sitting on my desk, she squealed, "THIS ones!"
And just now, as I began writing this post, she saw the Crocs again and it was, "These one," again.
The boys are in front of the TV, paralyzed by the poisonous bite of video games. They will not move until I make the screen go black.
My house is, as usual, in disarray around me. As much as I would like to pretend this isn't the usual, it is. My house is usually messy. It's something that I haven't quite mastered; I'm also trying to annihilate needless guilt. It's a tricky balance; if I do what I can, I should choose to have no guilt. But if I don't do all I can.....well.....then I need to forgive myself, do some work, and move on.
I am actively procrastinating.
My stomach is in coils--forget butterflies. Eels would be more appropriate; electric eels that writhe and pulse and glow and swim. Tomorrow morning, I will wake up at 4:00 and pack a bag for myself and a bag for the children. At 4:45, my babysitter will come and sleep on the couch while I pull out of the garage at 5:00. At 7:00, I fly from the Las Vegas airport, and at 7:00, my children will wake up to a babysitter--not me. They will play and eat and grow and cry and then go to sleep 12 hours later; Phill will be home while their eyes are heavily closed, their hearts beating a lazy rhythm, their subconscious minds alive. And I will be at my sister's house in Florida, sleeping or eating or worrying or laughing. And then on Wednesday, I will accompany my sister and her four beautiful daughters to the airport, and we will make our way back to Vegas, and then back to my house.
My children have never been with a babysitter for so long before. I trust my babysitter(s) implicitly! I will even be typing a list of tips & helpful information. I will be spending the day cleaning, cooking, packing, and trying to stay busy so that my nerves don't rule me.
I know that they will be just fine.
I know that I will make it to the airport, find my flight, and make my connections just fine.
I know because I prayed and asked for help, and my prayer was answered.
But I am still anxious. There are so many little details that are not under my control....and as I am at the beginning of this "adventure", I am just too nervous to be excited. I know, though, that once I get going--once I am where I need to be and once I have done all I can do--I will feel exhilaration.
I will be excited to be on my own for a while; I will be glad that I don't need to keep counting my children ("1...2...where's 3? Oh, there you are....1...2...3....1...where's 2?!....oh.....2....3"). I will enjoy the opportunity to nap and read and eat without interruption. (over 7 hours of traveling) I will be proud of myself for pushing through my nerves and doing it anyway. I will see my sister and my brother-in-law, my parents, and I will get to hold my beautiful niece finally.
And it will all be worth it. And I might laugh at myself a little bit. It will be an adventure.
First, she wore the practical (pink) tennis shoes.
Then she found her blue-tie-dye Crocs and had to have them. "These one."
When she spotted the church shoes sitting on my desk, she squealed, "THIS ones!"
And just now, as I began writing this post, she saw the Crocs again and it was, "These one," again.
The boys are in front of the TV, paralyzed by the poisonous bite of video games. They will not move until I make the screen go black.
My house is, as usual, in disarray around me. As much as I would like to pretend this isn't the usual, it is. My house is usually messy. It's something that I haven't quite mastered; I'm also trying to annihilate needless guilt. It's a tricky balance; if I do what I can, I should choose to have no guilt. But if I don't do all I can.....well.....then I need to forgive myself, do some work, and move on.
I am actively procrastinating.
My stomach is in coils--forget butterflies. Eels would be more appropriate; electric eels that writhe and pulse and glow and swim. Tomorrow morning, I will wake up at 4:00 and pack a bag for myself and a bag for the children. At 4:45, my babysitter will come and sleep on the couch while I pull out of the garage at 5:00. At 7:00, I fly from the Las Vegas airport, and at 7:00, my children will wake up to a babysitter--not me. They will play and eat and grow and cry and then go to sleep 12 hours later; Phill will be home while their eyes are heavily closed, their hearts beating a lazy rhythm, their subconscious minds alive. And I will be at my sister's house in Florida, sleeping or eating or worrying or laughing. And then on Wednesday, I will accompany my sister and her four beautiful daughters to the airport, and we will make our way back to Vegas, and then back to my house.
My children have never been with a babysitter for so long before. I trust my babysitter(s) implicitly! I will even be typing a list of tips & helpful information. I will be spending the day cleaning, cooking, packing, and trying to stay busy so that my nerves don't rule me.
I know that they will be just fine.
I know that I will make it to the airport, find my flight, and make my connections just fine.
I know because I prayed and asked for help, and my prayer was answered.
But I am still anxious. There are so many little details that are not under my control....and as I am at the beginning of this "adventure", I am just too nervous to be excited. I know, though, that once I get going--once I am where I need to be and once I have done all I can do--I will feel exhilaration.
I will be excited to be on my own for a while; I will be glad that I don't need to keep counting my children ("1...2...where's 3? Oh, there you are....1...2...3....1...where's 2?!....oh.....2....3"). I will enjoy the opportunity to nap and read and eat without interruption. (over 7 hours of traveling) I will be proud of myself for pushing through my nerves and doing it anyway. I will see my sister and my brother-in-law, my parents, and I will get to hold my beautiful niece finally.
And it will all be worth it. And I might laugh at myself a little bit. It will be an adventure.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Just a little funk-y
As life is changing, and we are human, it follows that our days, weeks, months, and years don't always follow a predictable pattern. With all the ups, there are downs, and then there are the in-betweens.
Which is just fancy talk for saying: I'm in a funk.
I'm not sad. I'm not terribly enthusiastic. I'm not motivated. I'm not completely lazy. I'm just....in between.
I haven't blogged for a week, and it's because I haven't really known what I should blog about.
My parents visited, and still, I thought, "What should I blog about?" I ran ten miles last Saturday, and ten and a half the Saturday before that, and I will run seven miles tomorrow morning! Lots of fodder for blogging, and still, here I sit, in my little in-between blah-ness.
I do know how to get out of a funk; I'm not completely at a loss! The solution is always action. Clean the house, take the kids out, paint my toenails, take some pictures, call some friends, write an email.
Action works because I've discovered what I'm really feeling when I'm in this funky spot is just a teensy bit sorry for myself, and not really much entertainment for anyone around.
My parents left two days ago. Shortly thereafter, I became hormonally unfavorable. And shortly after that, our budget was clearly unfavorable. Yes. It's true. I'm feeling a little sorry for myself, even though I have everything I need and quite a bit more.
Silly, silly me.
But since it is 11:02p.m., and I have no aspirations (yet) of cleaning my house, taking the kids out (of bed, no less), painting my toenails, taking some pictures, calling some friends, or writing an email, I will quote that fascinating Scarlett O'Hara and say:
"After all, tomorrow is another day."
Another day when Phill will be heading up to Ogden on Army business until Sunday; when I will wake up at 6:00 (ouch) to run seven miles (ouch & hooray); a day when I will stop feeling sorry for myself and will clean the house, laugh with my children, and probably lay out in the sunshine for a while to warm my sleepy soul.
And with you readers as my witnesses....I will try not to go funky again.
Which is just fancy talk for saying: I'm in a funk.
I'm not sad. I'm not terribly enthusiastic. I'm not motivated. I'm not completely lazy. I'm just....in between.
I haven't blogged for a week, and it's because I haven't really known what I should blog about.
My parents visited, and still, I thought, "What should I blog about?" I ran ten miles last Saturday, and ten and a half the Saturday before that, and I will run seven miles tomorrow morning! Lots of fodder for blogging, and still, here I sit, in my little in-between blah-ness.
I do know how to get out of a funk; I'm not completely at a loss! The solution is always action. Clean the house, take the kids out, paint my toenails, take some pictures, call some friends, write an email.
Action works because I've discovered what I'm really feeling when I'm in this funky spot is just a teensy bit sorry for myself, and not really much entertainment for anyone around.
My parents left two days ago. Shortly thereafter, I became hormonally unfavorable. And shortly after that, our budget was clearly unfavorable. Yes. It's true. I'm feeling a little sorry for myself, even though I have everything I need and quite a bit more.
Silly, silly me.
But since it is 11:02p.m., and I have no aspirations (yet) of cleaning my house, taking the kids out (of bed, no less), painting my toenails, taking some pictures, calling some friends, or writing an email, I will quote that fascinating Scarlett O'Hara and say:
"After all, tomorrow is another day."
Another day when Phill will be heading up to Ogden on Army business until Sunday; when I will wake up at 6:00 (ouch) to run seven miles (ouch & hooray); a day when I will stop feeling sorry for myself and will clean the house, laugh with my children, and probably lay out in the sunshine for a while to warm my sleepy soul.
And with you readers as my witnesses....I will try not to go funky again.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
buy today or pay
Spurred by the posts of a couple of friends, as well as a recent rash of salespeople in our neighborhood, I feel like sharing my little sales experience of almost two weeks ago.
A girl came to the door toting information about children's books. She was a foreign student, cute accent, pretty approachable. However, she spouted her first memorized paragraph that ended with, "So if you have a minute, I'd love to come in and show you. It'll only take a second" and with that, she picked up her bag, moved toward the door, and appeared to have every confidence that I was going to invite her in at 7:00 p.m. to tell me about books I should be buying for my kids.
Strike one. I was nettled that she just assumed I'd want to listen. That sales tactic does NOT work on me. Does not.
So then I say, "You know....I need to put my kids to bed. Could you come back another night?" (This was a reach for me. I was feeling like saying, "I don't care about those books and I don't want you to come into my house right now go away.")
She gets this suspicious look on her face and says, "Now?" And looks at her watch, then looks at the sky as if to check if it's dark yet. As in You are putting your kids to bed now?
Strike two AND three--are you really questioning my household routines? Who do you think you are? Do you think you'll get a sale out of me by making me feel like I'm strange or hasty for putting my kids to bed now, or get a sale out of me by giving me the impression that you think I'm LYING about our bedtime just to get you out of my house?
I say with a mean little smile (I'm sorry sweet foreign sales girl, please forgive me for that mean little smile), "Yes. Now."
So she says with something that smelled suspiciously like You're A Weirdo, "Um....wow. Takes them a long time to go to sleep, if you put them down so early?"
Are you growling yet? Because I was, inwardly. I could have said, "Look, lady. We like our kids-in-bed-by-7:30 policy. And you know why? Because by that time, our children are tired. They need their rest. And frankly, we do too. In fact, this is most assuredly the time of day when I am most apt to send a cheeky salesperson away, because all I REALLY want to do is SIT DOWN and do NOTHING."
But I was mostly polite and said, "Come back another night." And silently (why didn't I just say i'm-not-interested ?!) decided I would be mysteriously running an errand on the night she chose to return. How non-confrontational of me.
Anyway--I don't have some vendetta against salespeople. I was one, once. I sold Cutco knives and believe me, I was TERRIBLE at it. Why? Because I can't bear to put the pressure on. My sales pitch was terrible. "If you think you need these some time down the road, just give me a call." I couldn't create a sense of urgency without feeling enormous guilt, and I knew that almost no one is "in the market" to buy knives. Sorry, Cutco. I failed you.
And maybe because I was a salesperson once, I'm doubly annoyed by the tactics. That whole Create A Need for the Product thing? And how about A Sense of Urgency? The book-selling girl mentioned that she might not be in town next week when I "wanted" her to come back. Uh-oh. Guess I'd better by these books NOW WITHOUT DELAY! One last-ditch sales effort? Guilt-tripping. You put your kids to bed now? How dare you cut off any hours of summer-days enjoyment just so you can rest and recharge? What kind of mother are you? Or simply, You do that? You're weird. But buy this and you won't be weird anymore, I promise.
I have been known to do one of two things under pressure:
1-I fold. Yes I do need your ultra-powerful lasts-forever Citrus House Cleaner and how was I possibly living without it before?!
Or 2-I get upset.
Once when Phill and I were considering buying a second car, we went to go test-drive at a dealership. The sales guy was really chill at first, totally calm, let us take it out for a ride with just ourselves and our at-the-time two kids. Then we came back and told him we'd get back to him. Then guess what happened?
He began to talk about how he could definitely get us a good rate, but only today. Only if we bought TODAY. (Already I was turned off.) I say, "No," just feeling oddly brave and direct and assertive.
Then he asks me, "Don't you think that's kind of rude? Just an outright 'no' before I've explained anything?" And even Phill is looking at me strangely, wondering who I am. (I am hardly ever this brave.) Then I say, "No, I don't think that's rude. I'm just being honest in telling you that I don't think I'll buy a car today."
THEN he talks to me about how they NEED to get rid of inventory TODAY so that they can make a PROFIT. Boy, was he desperate. He started telling me that it was not very "correct" for me to make him think I was going to buy a car (test-drive) and then not buy it (I'll think about it).
At that point, I was done. I finally said with unmistakable heat in my voice, "You know, I don't like feeling like I'm a bad person for not wanting to make a hasty decision. I am not going to buy a car from you today and I'd like you to stop guilt-tripping me for it."
Phill was trying to soothe me, probably totally uncomfortable with this uncharacteristic display from me, but the guy finally backed off, and basically went into his dealership in a huff. Which brings me right back to: Do you really think that's going to work? What part of your brain thinks that you can make me feel bad and thereby want to buy something from you?
Anyway.....I suppose I have stronger feelings than I realized regarding sales people! Disclaimer: I don't hate all sales people. Just most of their tactics. And I really do just need to learn to be brave enough and courteous enough to say, "I'm not interested"--and hope that they will just leave it at that.
A girl came to the door toting information about children's books. She was a foreign student, cute accent, pretty approachable. However, she spouted her first memorized paragraph that ended with, "So if you have a minute, I'd love to come in and show you. It'll only take a second" and with that, she picked up her bag, moved toward the door, and appeared to have every confidence that I was going to invite her in at 7:00 p.m. to tell me about books I should be buying for my kids.
Strike one. I was nettled that she just assumed I'd want to listen. That sales tactic does NOT work on me. Does not.
So then I say, "You know....I need to put my kids to bed. Could you come back another night?" (This was a reach for me. I was feeling like saying, "I don't care about those books and I don't want you to come into my house right now go away.")
She gets this suspicious look on her face and says, "Now?" And looks at her watch, then looks at the sky as if to check if it's dark yet. As in You are putting your kids to bed now?
Strike two AND three--are you really questioning my household routines? Who do you think you are? Do you think you'll get a sale out of me by making me feel like I'm strange or hasty for putting my kids to bed now, or get a sale out of me by giving me the impression that you think I'm LYING about our bedtime just to get you out of my house?
I say with a mean little smile (I'm sorry sweet foreign sales girl, please forgive me for that mean little smile), "Yes. Now."
So she says with something that smelled suspiciously like You're A Weirdo, "Um....wow. Takes them a long time to go to sleep, if you put them down so early?"
Are you growling yet? Because I was, inwardly. I could have said, "Look, lady. We like our kids-in-bed-by-7:30 policy. And you know why? Because by that time, our children are tired. They need their rest. And frankly, we do too. In fact, this is most assuredly the time of day when I am most apt to send a cheeky salesperson away, because all I REALLY want to do is SIT DOWN and do NOTHING."
But I was mostly polite and said, "Come back another night." And silently (why didn't I just say i'm-not-interested ?!) decided I would be mysteriously running an errand on the night she chose to return. How non-confrontational of me.
Anyway--I don't have some vendetta against salespeople. I was one, once. I sold Cutco knives and believe me, I was TERRIBLE at it. Why? Because I can't bear to put the pressure on. My sales pitch was terrible. "If you think you need these some time down the road, just give me a call." I couldn't create a sense of urgency without feeling enormous guilt, and I knew that almost no one is "in the market" to buy knives. Sorry, Cutco. I failed you.
And maybe because I was a salesperson once, I'm doubly annoyed by the tactics. That whole Create A Need for the Product thing? And how about A Sense of Urgency? The book-selling girl mentioned that she might not be in town next week when I "wanted" her to come back. Uh-oh. Guess I'd better by these books NOW WITHOUT DELAY! One last-ditch sales effort? Guilt-tripping. You put your kids to bed now? How dare you cut off any hours of summer-days enjoyment just so you can rest and recharge? What kind of mother are you? Or simply, You do that? You're weird. But buy this and you won't be weird anymore, I promise.
I have been known to do one of two things under pressure:
1-I fold. Yes I do need your ultra-powerful lasts-forever Citrus House Cleaner and how was I possibly living without it before?!
Or 2-I get upset.
Once when Phill and I were considering buying a second car, we went to go test-drive at a dealership. The sales guy was really chill at first, totally calm, let us take it out for a ride with just ourselves and our at-the-time two kids. Then we came back and told him we'd get back to him. Then guess what happened?
He began to talk about how he could definitely get us a good rate, but only today. Only if we bought TODAY. (Already I was turned off.) I say, "No," just feeling oddly brave and direct and assertive.
Then he asks me, "Don't you think that's kind of rude? Just an outright 'no' before I've explained anything?" And even Phill is looking at me strangely, wondering who I am. (I am hardly ever this brave.) Then I say, "No, I don't think that's rude. I'm just being honest in telling you that I don't think I'll buy a car today."
THEN he talks to me about how they NEED to get rid of inventory TODAY so that they can make a PROFIT. Boy, was he desperate. He started telling me that it was not very "correct" for me to make him think I was going to buy a car (test-drive) and then not buy it (I'll think about it).
At that point, I was done. I finally said with unmistakable heat in my voice, "You know, I don't like feeling like I'm a bad person for not wanting to make a hasty decision. I am not going to buy a car from you today and I'd like you to stop guilt-tripping me for it."
Phill was trying to soothe me, probably totally uncomfortable with this uncharacteristic display from me, but the guy finally backed off, and basically went into his dealership in a huff. Which brings me right back to: Do you really think that's going to work? What part of your brain thinks that you can make me feel bad and thereby want to buy something from you?
Anyway.....I suppose I have stronger feelings than I realized regarding sales people! Disclaimer: I don't hate all sales people. Just most of their tactics. And I really do just need to learn to be brave enough and courteous enough to say, "I'm not interested"--and hope that they will just leave it at that.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Genuine griping & gratitude
I thought it might be interesting (note--interesting, not necessarily beneficial or fun) to record some current circumstances. Don't worry. All whining will be followed by hopeful affirmations and resolve, or something like that..
This very moment:
I have several ugly pimples on my face. The kind that are noticeable and refuse to hide with makeup. The kind that don't pick one spot to reside, but choose instead to form a sort of dot-to-dot around my face. The kind that make me feel like yelling when I look in the mirror. My face feels sorry for itself. So do I, a little.
This one time, I cut eight inches off my long, long hair after growing it out for over a year. (As in....about a month ago.) I'm still really, really mad at myself and haven't yet relocated my hair mojo. Hair mojo, where are you?
In preparation to buckle down and start training for the marathon next week, I have taken the opportunity to simply relax the last two weeks. My abdominal muscles are relaxed, too. And my bottom is simply SAGGING with relief. My body is yelling at me, and I'm yelling back, "I don't want to! Leave me alone!"
.....okay. Actually what happened is that I didn't work out very regularly week before last, and decided to continue being lazy, all the way up to....today. The "relaxing in preparation for the marathon" is the phrase I feed myself along with that third cupcake. Tastes good.
The house isn't a disaster, but it's definitely not clean. The kids keep playing in the red dust in the backyard (INSTEAD OF CHOOSING THE BEAUTIFUL GREEN GRASS) and walking into the house trailing clouds of dust. I'm trying to be laid-back about it. I'm not laid-back about it. I'm annoyed. And I don't want to clean until I'm ready to clean the whole house. I'm not ready. Yet. (There's that all-or-nothing stuff again.)
I suspect an army of hormones is at least partially to blame for this self-pity/OCD fest I'm having at the moment. That doesn't make me feel any less sorry for myself or any less controlling about red dust and similar things that are not really meant to be vigorously controlled.
Should I eat worms? :)
Ready for the happy stuff?
Last night, I got to do an awesome bridal shoot. As well as the night before that. The light was melty and buttery near sunset, and the bride, a friend of mine, was adventurous and beautiful. (Makes for good photos.) Last night, I had bride, groom, and their four children together in a field of rye. Note. If you choose to lay down in a field of rye, be forewarned. I drove home from Cedar to St.George (about 45 minutes, but more like 70 with the construction) with one very watering, red, itchy, swollen eye. It made driving rather....adventurous? Like the bride, only not safe. I sang stupid songs at the top of my lungs to stay focused and un-nervous. It worked. Thank you, Ms.Spears.
After some allergy medicine last night, guaranteed for 24-hour relief, I pretty much passed out for the night. I woke up with still-red, tiny eyes, but they don't itch! And I'm not sneezing! This is encouraging.
All of that was worth it. That field was beautiful. That family is beautiful. Hopefully the photos will turn out beautifully, too.
Savanna is walking around the house with a red-dusted-diaper butt, no other clothes, and ponytail-holders-removed hair. She is wiping off the coffee table with a wet washcloth. (She's a better housekeeper than I am.) She's ridiculously cute and smiles at me every time I look at her. I might have accepted the fact that she will be 2 on Sunday.
Ouch. Or not.
Phill is doing a scout campout tonight. I'll miss him for the night, but it was fun to watch him prepare. He packed a huge Army backpack full of supplies. Combat Life-Saving badge. Light that attaches to his head. (They'll be spelunking. Did I spell that right?) Underwear. Various other items to ensure a safe and relatively comfortable adventure. I think I will watch a girly movie tonight. Should go well with hormones, sweet chocolate, and salty tears.
The boys are in the front yard searching for lizards under the big shaded rock. Reed is dedicated in the art of Finding Lizards. He prefers to go out in the morning, when he says there is an abundance of the creatures hiding under the rock.
The kids have been following each other around all morning, with pretty minimal fighting. One of my favorite things is to see Reed dart down the hallway, followed closely by Jaxon, and Savvy speeding after them. And sometimes they make Savvy laugh so hard she almost falls over.
Best cure for self-pity? Laughter and activity. They have it in spades, and I'm going to let some of it seep into me today.
This very moment:
I have several ugly pimples on my face. The kind that are noticeable and refuse to hide with makeup. The kind that don't pick one spot to reside, but choose instead to form a sort of dot-to-dot around my face. The kind that make me feel like yelling when I look in the mirror. My face feels sorry for itself. So do I, a little.
This one time, I cut eight inches off my long, long hair after growing it out for over a year. (As in....about a month ago.) I'm still really, really mad at myself and haven't yet relocated my hair mojo. Hair mojo, where are you?
In preparation to buckle down and start training for the marathon next week, I have taken the opportunity to simply relax the last two weeks. My abdominal muscles are relaxed, too. And my bottom is simply SAGGING with relief. My body is yelling at me, and I'm yelling back, "I don't want to! Leave me alone!"
.....okay. Actually what happened is that I didn't work out very regularly week before last, and decided to continue being lazy, all the way up to....today. The "relaxing in preparation for the marathon" is the phrase I feed myself along with that third cupcake. Tastes good.
The house isn't a disaster, but it's definitely not clean. The kids keep playing in the red dust in the backyard (INSTEAD OF CHOOSING THE BEAUTIFUL GREEN GRASS) and walking into the house trailing clouds of dust. I'm trying to be laid-back about it. I'm not laid-back about it. I'm annoyed. And I don't want to clean until I'm ready to clean the whole house. I'm not ready. Yet. (There's that all-or-nothing stuff again.)
I suspect an army of hormones is at least partially to blame for this self-pity/OCD fest I'm having at the moment. That doesn't make me feel any less sorry for myself or any less controlling about red dust and similar things that are not really meant to be vigorously controlled.
Should I eat worms? :)
Ready for the happy stuff?
Last night, I got to do an awesome bridal shoot. As well as the night before that. The light was melty and buttery near sunset, and the bride, a friend of mine, was adventurous and beautiful. (Makes for good photos.) Last night, I had bride, groom, and their four children together in a field of rye. Note. If you choose to lay down in a field of rye, be forewarned. I drove home from Cedar to St.George (about 45 minutes, but more like 70 with the construction) with one very watering, red, itchy, swollen eye. It made driving rather....adventurous? Like the bride, only not safe. I sang stupid songs at the top of my lungs to stay focused and un-nervous. It worked. Thank you, Ms.Spears.
After some allergy medicine last night, guaranteed for 24-hour relief, I pretty much passed out for the night. I woke up with still-red, tiny eyes, but they don't itch! And I'm not sneezing! This is encouraging.
All of that was worth it. That field was beautiful. That family is beautiful. Hopefully the photos will turn out beautifully, too.
Savanna is walking around the house with a red-dusted-diaper butt, no other clothes, and ponytail-holders-removed hair. She is wiping off the coffee table with a wet washcloth. (She's a better housekeeper than I am.) She's ridiculously cute and smiles at me every time I look at her. I might have accepted the fact that she will be 2 on Sunday.
Ouch. Or not.
Phill is doing a scout campout tonight. I'll miss him for the night, but it was fun to watch him prepare. He packed a huge Army backpack full of supplies. Combat Life-Saving badge. Light that attaches to his head. (They'll be spelunking. Did I spell that right?) Underwear. Various other items to ensure a safe and relatively comfortable adventure. I think I will watch a girly movie tonight. Should go well with hormones, sweet chocolate, and salty tears.
The boys are in the front yard searching for lizards under the big shaded rock. Reed is dedicated in the art of Finding Lizards. He prefers to go out in the morning, when he says there is an abundance of the creatures hiding under the rock.
The kids have been following each other around all morning, with pretty minimal fighting. One of my favorite things is to see Reed dart down the hallway, followed closely by Jaxon, and Savvy speeding after them. And sometimes they make Savvy laugh so hard she almost falls over.
Best cure for self-pity? Laughter and activity. They have it in spades, and I'm going to let some of it seep into me today.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Food, glorious food! (Name that musical....)
What to do when usual babysitters are busy, husband will be home in less than two days, and the grocery supply needs to be replenished TODAY?
Why, take the kids with you, of course.
sigh....
I admit I'm really spoiled by Phill. Our usual setup is that I go grocery shopping while he stays home, or we go together with the kids. Today, I had no such option. So I put some snacks in my purse, made my list as clear and succinct as possible, and called my sister for support. (That's right. I'm spoiled, and I call my sister to motivate and inspire me before I do something that's difficult.) She cheerfully told me I could do it, and that I wouldn't fall over and die when it was over. (I think the last time I've had to do the two-weeks-worth grocery shopping thing with the kids was.....two months ago? I'm rusty.)
First we stopped at Costco, which was relatively easy because I had two of the three strapped into the cart. Let me pause to say:
Dear Wal-mart,
Please make your shopping carts as big as Costco's, and your aisles as wide as Costco's, even if your food and supplies are not near as exciting as Costco's.
Thank you.
Tired Mom
Rae
When we got to Wal-mart, I tried to be speedy and efficient, which was not easy at all. Do you know my boys? Let me tell you something: They want to examine everything. Weigh everything. Sometimes taste-test things.....they are tactile explorers, which means that this refrain is heard as we make our way throughout the store:
"Put that down, please. No, we're not buying that. I said no. We have treats at home. You don't need shoes. Please follow me. Please stay close to me. Please stay close to me. PLEASE STAY CLOSE TO ME. No, not next to the cart, next to me....me. Me."
It's no wonder they stop listening--I get sick of hearing myself, too! I become this anxious, wild-eyed, frizzy-haired, sweaty version of myself. And I get weird looks from cantankerous old men who can't understand why I would bring my three young children with me to the store. Which makes my mental snarkiness really shine....."What? What's your problem? Stare at me some more!" Obviously, this is not a time when I'm at my best.
But today, I didn't want to feel sorry for myself, and so I said a prayer before I left and decided to note the things that went well. Here's what went well:
-Savvy had just woken up from a nap before we left. Cheery, quiet Savvy. Angel.
-The boys were just rambunctious--not screaming, not crying, and not making things fall off the shelves.
-I found a parking spot close to the front door.
-I found what I needed quickly, both at Wal-mart and Costco. Relatively no puzzled searching.
-I stayed within my food budget!
-The kids were quiet in the car on the way home, and gratefully accepted a McDonald's dinner. (Odd, you might say, that I buy fast food on the way home from just buying tons of-what?-FOOD. But in this case, it's a necessity. By the time I get home and get everything put away, it's 7:30. Hungry kids wailing in the kitchen while I try to simultaneously make dinner and put everything away? I don't think so. Oh--and although I could go earlier, it just didn't happen today. Between a grandma visit and a baby nap, I was impressed we got out the door at 4:30.)
-The confused stares and even annoyed glares were nonexistant today. Two moms were even sweetly sympathetic as our circus walked by.
-The kids are full-bellied and soundly in bed. And I am not dead.
I also have to say that for some reason today, I was overcome as I walked through the store, looking at all the food. Mostly the produce. I think it's an incredible blessing that my fridge has colorful produce and fresh cheese and protein-filled meat in it right now; a blessing to live in a country where food is available in such abundance and for a relatively reasonable price. It just struck me--for no apparent reason--that it is amazing to be able to walk into a store and have so many choices, and walk out with two weeks' worth of food.
Instead of feeling despondent and exhausted, I'm tiredly grateful.
Now if that isn't a miracle.....
Why, take the kids with you, of course.
sigh....
I admit I'm really spoiled by Phill. Our usual setup is that I go grocery shopping while he stays home, or we go together with the kids. Today, I had no such option. So I put some snacks in my purse, made my list as clear and succinct as possible, and called my sister for support. (That's right. I'm spoiled, and I call my sister to motivate and inspire me before I do something that's difficult.) She cheerfully told me I could do it, and that I wouldn't fall over and die when it was over. (I think the last time I've had to do the two-weeks-worth grocery shopping thing with the kids was.....two months ago? I'm rusty.)
First we stopped at Costco, which was relatively easy because I had two of the three strapped into the cart. Let me pause to say:
Dear Wal-mart,
Please make your shopping carts as big as Costco's, and your aisles as wide as Costco's, even if your food and supplies are not near as exciting as Costco's.
Thank you.
Tired Mom
Rae
When we got to Wal-mart, I tried to be speedy and efficient, which was not easy at all. Do you know my boys? Let me tell you something: They want to examine everything. Weigh everything. Sometimes taste-test things.....they are tactile explorers, which means that this refrain is heard as we make our way throughout the store:
"Put that down, please. No, we're not buying that. I said no. We have treats at home. You don't need shoes. Please follow me. Please stay close to me. Please stay close to me. PLEASE STAY CLOSE TO ME. No, not next to the cart, next to me....me. Me."
It's no wonder they stop listening--I get sick of hearing myself, too! I become this anxious, wild-eyed, frizzy-haired, sweaty version of myself. And I get weird looks from cantankerous old men who can't understand why I would bring my three young children with me to the store. Which makes my mental snarkiness really shine....."What? What's your problem? Stare at me some more!" Obviously, this is not a time when I'm at my best.
But today, I didn't want to feel sorry for myself, and so I said a prayer before I left and decided to note the things that went well. Here's what went well:
-Savvy had just woken up from a nap before we left. Cheery, quiet Savvy. Angel.
-The boys were just rambunctious--not screaming, not crying, and not making things fall off the shelves.
-I found a parking spot close to the front door.
-I found what I needed quickly, both at Wal-mart and Costco. Relatively no puzzled searching.
-I stayed within my food budget!
-The kids were quiet in the car on the way home, and gratefully accepted a McDonald's dinner. (Odd, you might say, that I buy fast food on the way home from just buying tons of-what?-FOOD. But in this case, it's a necessity. By the time I get home and get everything put away, it's 7:30. Hungry kids wailing in the kitchen while I try to simultaneously make dinner and put everything away? I don't think so. Oh--and although I could go earlier, it just didn't happen today. Between a grandma visit and a baby nap, I was impressed we got out the door at 4:30.)
-The confused stares and even annoyed glares were nonexistant today. Two moms were even sweetly sympathetic as our circus walked by.
-The kids are full-bellied and soundly in bed. And I am not dead.
I also have to say that for some reason today, I was overcome as I walked through the store, looking at all the food. Mostly the produce. I think it's an incredible blessing that my fridge has colorful produce and fresh cheese and protein-filled meat in it right now; a blessing to live in a country where food is available in such abundance and for a relatively reasonable price. It just struck me--for no apparent reason--that it is amazing to be able to walk into a store and have so many choices, and walk out with two weeks' worth of food.
Instead of feeling despondent and exhausted, I'm tiredly grateful.
Now if that isn't a miracle.....
Monday, May 11, 2009
To clarify:
Have you been fooled by my rose-colored-glasses posts?
Phill has been in Germany (YES I AM JEALOUS) since the 2nd; he'll be back Saturday at midnight. (After which our van will turn into a pumpkin, and my flip-flop will mysteriously go missing.)
Secretly last week was really not so great. I was detached and dull and despondent and disorganized. (Grade for last week, D+) Today, though, on the other side of two weeks with only a few more days to go, I feel much better. Did dishes and laundry and didn't cry into a bowl of ice cream.
I just wanted to be....forthcoming about my human-ness? Provide a little clarification? I don't know. I just wonder if I pretend everything is okay when it's not? That can't be helpful. I'd like to be in inspiration, not an illusion. I guess I just don't figure you want to hear about those more human days.
Phill has been in Germany (YES I AM JEALOUS) since the 2nd; he'll be back Saturday at midnight. (After which our van will turn into a pumpkin, and my flip-flop will mysteriously go missing.)
Secretly last week was really not so great. I was detached and dull and despondent and disorganized. (Grade for last week, D+) Today, though, on the other side of two weeks with only a few more days to go, I feel much better. Did dishes and laundry and didn't cry into a bowl of ice cream.
I just wanted to be....forthcoming about my human-ness? Provide a little clarification? I don't know. I just wonder if I pretend everything is okay when it's not? That can't be helpful. I'd like to be in inspiration, not an illusion. I guess I just don't figure you want to hear about those more human days.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Compelled
I have a bit of a compulsive nature when it comes to cleaning the house.
We all know that I'm mighty good at procrastinating. I am selective about what I put off, though. Sometimes I can't do anything until my house is clean! I put off exercise, meal-planning or simple cooking, and even sometimes answering the phone (sorry, Abby-Jenn-Cara-Phill-Kelly) until I have finally vacuumed the last crumb. OR I go on the opposite side, still in the vein of all-or-nothing, but with a different approach: When the house is a mess and I just don't want to clean it, I'll find something else to do that's also important (but almost never equally important) so that I feel justified in putting it off.
Let me elaborate.
On Saturday, we got our new computer. (Hallelujah!!) I requested to keep the box it came in so that I could put the old computer inside. Except....I didn't put the old computer stuff in there right away. Instead, I reveled in working-computer glory while the children de-constructed the box. I told myself I was fine with it, even when I heard Savvy doing something suspicious behind the couch, something that made ripping noises. (No, not filling her diaper.)
Besides this intentional oversight (as I like to call it when I allow my kids to wreak havoc on the house because I am too tired to do battle), I had been purposefully lazy that day. How do you be lazy with a purpose? Well, it's simple. You sit on the couch with the express purpose to do nothing but cuddle your kids and read a book. It's very straightforward.
So there were a number of diapers on the floor--both bundled-dirty ones and Savvy-distributed clean ones. (She has a flair for decorating with clean diapers.) Add to that the kids' toys, shoes, a smattering of clothes, bits of nothing, and ripped-up computer box pieces, and it was an absolute tornado.
And the dinner table had Oreos crusted on them. And a few other disgusting food details, which I will simply not elaborate. So last night, after I got the kids in bed, (which really is an exhausting ordeal for me, start to finish: shower/bath, scriptures, prayers, teeth-brushing, stories, water and milk and blanket rearrangement for all three.....I'm probably just wimpy, but it WIPES. ME. OUT.) I sat down and looked around at the tornado I allowed to blow through my home.
And I decided to take evasive action.
I cleaned out two closets and my pantry, omitting unnecessary junk (filled up half my outside trash can), moving things to more sensible locations, condensing and straightening. As a result, my coat closet, hall closet, and pantry are sparkling and lovely.
And the living room is still a semi-disaster area....and the kitchen table has not had its mystery crusties removed....and my laundry is a mountain that simple mind power will not move. (Why? Why not?)
So....as you may imagine, I am off to clean the disastrous result of intentional oversights. Even though there are a million other detail-oriented projects begging my attention.
And I maybe should do something else important first, like....take packages to the post office! Or buy some groceries! Or make Valentine's Day cards or paint picture frames or order some photo prints or go to the store.....
Alas....I have to attend to the immediate drudgery. Because as far as functioning goes, I really do need to clean this mess up before anything else can happen.
I am now compulsive and compelled.
We all know that I'm mighty good at procrastinating. I am selective about what I put off, though. Sometimes I can't do anything until my house is clean! I put off exercise, meal-planning or simple cooking, and even sometimes answering the phone (sorry, Abby-Jenn-Cara-Phill-Kelly) until I have finally vacuumed the last crumb. OR I go on the opposite side, still in the vein of all-or-nothing, but with a different approach: When the house is a mess and I just don't want to clean it, I'll find something else to do that's also important (but almost never equally important) so that I feel justified in putting it off.
Let me elaborate.
On Saturday, we got our new computer. (Hallelujah!!) I requested to keep the box it came in so that I could put the old computer inside. Except....I didn't put the old computer stuff in there right away. Instead, I reveled in working-computer glory while the children de-constructed the box. I told myself I was fine with it, even when I heard Savvy doing something suspicious behind the couch, something that made ripping noises. (No, not filling her diaper.)
Besides this intentional oversight (as I like to call it when I allow my kids to wreak havoc on the house because I am too tired to do battle), I had been purposefully lazy that day. How do you be lazy with a purpose? Well, it's simple. You sit on the couch with the express purpose to do nothing but cuddle your kids and read a book. It's very straightforward.
So there were a number of diapers on the floor--both bundled-dirty ones and Savvy-distributed clean ones. (She has a flair for decorating with clean diapers.) Add to that the kids' toys, shoes, a smattering of clothes, bits of nothing, and ripped-up computer box pieces, and it was an absolute tornado.
And the dinner table had Oreos crusted on them. And a few other disgusting food details, which I will simply not elaborate. So last night, after I got the kids in bed, (which really is an exhausting ordeal for me, start to finish: shower/bath, scriptures, prayers, teeth-brushing, stories, water and milk and blanket rearrangement for all three.....I'm probably just wimpy, but it WIPES. ME. OUT.) I sat down and looked around at the tornado I allowed to blow through my home.
And I decided to take evasive action.
I cleaned out two closets and my pantry, omitting unnecessary junk (filled up half my outside trash can), moving things to more sensible locations, condensing and straightening. As a result, my coat closet, hall closet, and pantry are sparkling and lovely.
And the living room is still a semi-disaster area....and the kitchen table has not had its mystery crusties removed....and my laundry is a mountain that simple mind power will not move. (Why? Why not?)
So....as you may imagine, I am off to clean the disastrous result of intentional oversights. Even though there are a million other detail-oriented projects begging my attention.
And I maybe should do something else important first, like....take packages to the post office! Or buy some groceries! Or make Valentine's Day cards or paint picture frames or order some photo prints or go to the store.....
Alas....I have to attend to the immediate drudgery. Because as far as functioning goes, I really do need to clean this mess up before anything else can happen.
I am now compulsive and compelled.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Confessions
Slowly but surely, the holiday weight is sloughing off. It's grumbling in the process (and so am I), but that pesky padding is thinning out. (Ah....thank you, Treadmill.)
It's a hate-love relationship with my treadmill right now. I really, really, really hate to start working out, and I'm not usually enthusiastic until the last ten minutes or so (because I'm about to be done), but good heavens don't I love the feeling of having worked out.
I did get in four workouts last week--my default goal. And I'm proud of myself, don't get me wrong. But I'm still not doing that other thing too consistently.....
you know.
That other thing.
waking
up
e
a
r
l
y
.........eugh. I hate it. I hate, hate, hate it. Lara, I feel your pain; we are nocturnally-minded sisters or something.
First, it's the dead silence of the house. My alarm pierces the deep, joyous, solid satisfaction of my sleep; it demands attention. Then if I'm being good, I roll onto my back--because I WON'T fall asleep on my back unless I've currently given birth and am nursing and exhausted beyond normalcy--and I try to open my eyes, hearing nothing but the comfortable (STILL SLEEPING) breathing of Phill next to me, the weird mutterings of our on-the-outs computer in the livingroom (it groans, I'm telling you), and the pressing silence of a still-sleeping household. Shouldn't I still be sleeping, too? (that's where the self-pity really kicks in and I maybe cry a little bit with my eyes still closed)
But if I don't wake up when the time is ripe, here's what happens: Reed comes into my room, pats my face, and says sweetly (and a little bit nervously, as the poor boy has discovered my alternate personality in the mornings), "Mama, we're awake. And Savvy is too. And I would like some cereal."
Which doesn't make me feel like I'm doing very well at this Doing My Best thing. (And oh, how that Doing My Best thing matters with regard to motherhood. Are you as worn out as I am?)
When I dress down the problem, dress it down to bare bones, it comes to this: It hurts. Waking up early (for me) hurts. But too bad. I need to do it anyway.
There's the issue. I need to do it. I don't HAVE to. But I NEED to. Why is it so much easier to do what I have to do, rather than make the difficult choices day in and day out?
No one's forcing me out of bed. If I beg sadly enough, Phill will kindly cover me with the blanket and say, "It's okay. Go back to sleep." And my kids aren't physically dragging me out of the bed. But I need to get out of bed early, because if I don't, my children wander, aimless, oddly-dressed and probably hungry.
So, my (already-mentioned) confession: I am terrible at getting out of bed before my children practically drag me out of bed. And I'm going to do better, as in 7:30.
I really can't wait for it to be lighter outside in the mornings.
It's a hate-love relationship with my treadmill right now. I really, really, really hate to start working out, and I'm not usually enthusiastic until the last ten minutes or so (because I'm about to be done), but good heavens don't I love the feeling of having worked out.
I did get in four workouts last week--my default goal. And I'm proud of myself, don't get me wrong. But I'm still not doing that other thing too consistently.....
you know.
That other thing.
waking
up
e
a
r
l
y
.........eugh. I hate it. I hate, hate, hate it. Lara, I feel your pain; we are nocturnally-minded sisters or something.
First, it's the dead silence of the house. My alarm pierces the deep, joyous, solid satisfaction of my sleep; it demands attention. Then if I'm being good, I roll onto my back--because I WON'T fall asleep on my back unless I've currently given birth and am nursing and exhausted beyond normalcy--and I try to open my eyes, hearing nothing but the comfortable (STILL SLEEPING) breathing of Phill next to me, the weird mutterings of our on-the-outs computer in the livingroom (it groans, I'm telling you), and the pressing silence of a still-sleeping household. Shouldn't I still be sleeping, too? (that's where the self-pity really kicks in and I maybe cry a little bit with my eyes still closed)
But if I don't wake up when the time is ripe, here's what happens: Reed comes into my room, pats my face, and says sweetly (and a little bit nervously, as the poor boy has discovered my alternate personality in the mornings), "Mama, we're awake. And Savvy is too. And I would like some cereal."
Which doesn't make me feel like I'm doing very well at this Doing My Best thing. (And oh, how that Doing My Best thing matters with regard to motherhood. Are you as worn out as I am?)
When I dress down the problem, dress it down to bare bones, it comes to this: It hurts. Waking up early (for me) hurts. But too bad. I need to do it anyway.
There's the issue. I need to do it. I don't HAVE to. But I NEED to. Why is it so much easier to do what I have to do, rather than make the difficult choices day in and day out?
No one's forcing me out of bed. If I beg sadly enough, Phill will kindly cover me with the blanket and say, "It's okay. Go back to sleep." And my kids aren't physically dragging me out of the bed. But I need to get out of bed early, because if I don't, my children wander, aimless, oddly-dressed and probably hungry.
So, my (already-mentioned) confession: I am terrible at getting out of bed before my children practically drag me out of bed. And I'm going to do better, as in 7:30.
I really can't wait for it to be lighter outside in the mornings.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Goal reached!!.....Motivation lost
Remember when I had that goal of working out regularly (4 days a week at least for 25 minutes at least) for three months straight? Remember how I was super pumped-up and how a while back I mentioned that I'd lost a little bit of extra poundage through the whole process?
I forgot to mention that I MET MY GOAL! I EXERCISED REGULARLY FOR THREE MONTHS!!!!
*confetti-throwing*
*raucous shouts of triumph*
*dancing with glee*
Anyway. Enough celebrating. The point of the three months was to make a habit. I did make a habit of working out. The waking-up-early part wasn't as easy to keep, especially given the three weeks that Phill was at BNCOC and the kids were in the bed with me (mysteriously) at 6:00 each morning....and I wasn't about to ruin that with a loud treadmill!
The point is: Even though I met my goal and even dropped about ten pounds in the process (surprise!), I didn't keep the early-waking habit so well, and I took a break after my three months was up.
Don't get me wrong. I felt that a break was deserved and even advisable. But due to some events out of my control (being up in Provo for a couple of weeks off and on) and some events I could have controlled (just getting out the stupid jump-rope or going to Gold's while I was in Provo), I, how should I say, fell off the wagon? I exercised a paltry four times in two weeks. And ate shamelessly, the way I believe one should eat during the holidays....so I'm paying for it. And I've adopted a late-night schedule that isn't helpful at all.
So if I have any resolutions at all this year, it would be to strengthen my resolve in the first place, revive my motivation, and return to my focus on those big matters: getting out of bed at a decent time, reading my scriptures, and knocking that stupid workout out of the way before I can procrastinate it all day!! I refuse to go further than this in my goal-making resolution-enthused headiness that is an integral part of January. I know myself. I know my love of list-making, my tendency to be a sucker for a grand idea. I know that in the past, my downfall was always too many areas of improvement with very specific goals in each. Needless to say, I soared for two days, then plummeted, depressed that I hadn't measured up.
So instead, I'm making an effort to return to what was working before everything was temporarily upside-down. It worked before! It'll work again! And if I can keep those important things at the top of my priorities, everything else falls into place....sparing me the drama of a 12-point list with 4 subtitles per point, The Grand Idea, the Everything Now mistake. Line upon line....a little here, a little there.
So....speaking of resolve? Remember the cheesecake I made? My very first one? You'll be happy to know that it was insanely delicious. Or sad to hear that, if you can envision me polishing off three (okay, four, that last one was HUGE) slices today. And yesterday. Today while I savored the last third-and-fourth piece, I was thinking how great it was that I was doing myself a favor and finishing all the cheesecake, because then I would stop eating it. (Yes, that warped reasoning worked. It always works with a mouthful of cheesecake.) I also decided that I wasn't going to shame myself....because that cheesecake was good, and I made it to eat it! So.....hah! (This is not working. Confessing to all of you and pretending I'm unaffected by it....I'm still quietly flabbergasted at myself! Just play along.)
I haven't been eating only junk, though, rest assured. I made these delicious rolls, and I have learned that I love to make and eat soup. After the broccoli cheese soup, I couldn't help myself. Last night was My Kitchen Cafe's Creamy Chicken and Wild Rice Soup (fantastic), and tonight was a recipe from a pasta cookbook I got 50% off at Barnes & Noble. Oh, it was soooooo good!! Here's the recipe (almost verbatim):
White Bean Soup
from Pasta: 40 Wonderful Classic Pasta Recipes
Serves 4
Beans feature widely in Tuscan cuisine. This smooth, comforting soup, in which beans are simmered for 2 hours, is very simple to make. Garlic and parsley, stirred in just before serving, complement the flavor, and a drizzle of olive oil adds the final touch.
¾ C dried cannelini beans, soaked in cold water to cover overnight (I actually used canned already-soaked beans instead)
1 ½ quarts chicken or vegetable stock
4 oz dried coralline, conchigliette piccote, or other soup pasta (and I just used elbow macaroni; the picture looks like elbow noodles, but ribbed, and lightly curly….the name of which pasta I assume is one of those tongue-twisters listed)
6 Tbsp. olive oil
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
4 Tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
salt and pepper
fresh crusty bread, to serve
-Drain the soaked beans and place them in a large, heavy-bottom pan. Add the stock and bring to a boil. Partially cover the pan, reduce the heat, and let simmer for 2 hours, or until tender. (OR just use canned cannelini beans and skip this step entirely.)
-Transfer about half the beans and a little of the stock to a food processor or blender and process to a smooth puree. Return the puree to the pan and stir well to mix. Return the soup to a boil.
-Add the pasta to the soup, return to a boil, and cook for 10 minutes, or until tender.
-Meanwhile, heat 4 Tbsp of the olive oil in a small pan. Add the garlic and cook over low heat, stirring frequently, for 4-5 minutes, or until golden. Stir the garlic into the soup and add the parsley. Season to taste with salt and pepper and ladle into warmed soup bowls. Drizzle with the remaining olive oil and serve immediately with crusty bread.
I forgot to mention that I MET MY GOAL! I EXERCISED REGULARLY FOR THREE MONTHS!!!!
*confetti-throwing*
*raucous shouts of triumph*
*dancing with glee*
Anyway. Enough celebrating. The point of the three months was to make a habit. I did make a habit of working out. The waking-up-early part wasn't as easy to keep, especially given the three weeks that Phill was at BNCOC and the kids were in the bed with me (mysteriously) at 6:00 each morning....and I wasn't about to ruin that with a loud treadmill!
The point is: Even though I met my goal and even dropped about ten pounds in the process (surprise!), I didn't keep the early-waking habit so well, and I took a break after my three months was up.
Don't get me wrong. I felt that a break was deserved and even advisable. But due to some events out of my control (being up in Provo for a couple of weeks off and on) and some events I could have controlled (just getting out the stupid jump-rope or going to Gold's while I was in Provo), I, how should I say, fell off the wagon? I exercised a paltry four times in two weeks. And ate shamelessly, the way I believe one should eat during the holidays....so I'm paying for it. And I've adopted a late-night schedule that isn't helpful at all.
So if I have any resolutions at all this year, it would be to strengthen my resolve in the first place, revive my motivation, and return to my focus on those big matters: getting out of bed at a decent time, reading my scriptures, and knocking that stupid workout out of the way before I can procrastinate it all day!! I refuse to go further than this in my goal-making resolution-enthused headiness that is an integral part of January. I know myself. I know my love of list-making, my tendency to be a sucker for a grand idea. I know that in the past, my downfall was always too many areas of improvement with very specific goals in each. Needless to say, I soared for two days, then plummeted, depressed that I hadn't measured up.
So instead, I'm making an effort to return to what was working before everything was temporarily upside-down. It worked before! It'll work again! And if I can keep those important things at the top of my priorities, everything else falls into place....sparing me the drama of a 12-point list with 4 subtitles per point, The Grand Idea, the Everything Now mistake. Line upon line....a little here, a little there.
So....speaking of resolve? Remember the cheesecake I made? My very first one? You'll be happy to know that it was insanely delicious. Or sad to hear that, if you can envision me polishing off three (okay, four, that last one was HUGE) slices today. And yesterday. Today while I savored the last third-and-fourth piece, I was thinking how great it was that I was doing myself a favor and finishing all the cheesecake, because then I would stop eating it. (Yes, that warped reasoning worked. It always works with a mouthful of cheesecake.) I also decided that I wasn't going to shame myself....because that cheesecake was good, and I made it to eat it! So.....hah! (This is not working. Confessing to all of you and pretending I'm unaffected by it....I'm still quietly flabbergasted at myself! Just play along.)
I haven't been eating only junk, though, rest assured. I made these delicious rolls, and I have learned that I love to make and eat soup. After the broccoli cheese soup, I couldn't help myself. Last night was My Kitchen Cafe's Creamy Chicken and Wild Rice Soup (fantastic), and tonight was a recipe from a pasta cookbook I got 50% off at Barnes & Noble. Oh, it was soooooo good!! Here's the recipe (almost verbatim):
White Bean Soup
from Pasta: 40 Wonderful Classic Pasta Recipes
Serves 4
Beans feature widely in Tuscan cuisine. This smooth, comforting soup, in which beans are simmered for 2 hours, is very simple to make. Garlic and parsley, stirred in just before serving, complement the flavor, and a drizzle of olive oil adds the final touch.
¾ C dried cannelini beans, soaked in cold water to cover overnight (I actually used canned already-soaked beans instead)
1 ½ quarts chicken or vegetable stock
4 oz dried coralline, conchigliette piccote, or other soup pasta (and I just used elbow macaroni; the picture looks like elbow noodles, but ribbed, and lightly curly….the name of which pasta I assume is one of those tongue-twisters listed)
6 Tbsp. olive oil
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
4 Tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
salt and pepper
fresh crusty bread, to serve
-Drain the soaked beans and place them in a large, heavy-bottom pan. Add the stock and bring to a boil. Partially cover the pan, reduce the heat, and let simmer for 2 hours, or until tender. (OR just use canned cannelini beans and skip this step entirely.)
-Transfer about half the beans and a little of the stock to a food processor or blender and process to a smooth puree. Return the puree to the pan and stir well to mix. Return the soup to a boil.
-Add the pasta to the soup, return to a boil, and cook for 10 minutes, or until tender.
-Meanwhile, heat 4 Tbsp of the olive oil in a small pan. Add the garlic and cook over low heat, stirring frequently, for 4-5 minutes, or until golden. Stir the garlic into the soup and add the parsley. Season to taste with salt and pepper and ladle into warmed soup bowls. Drizzle with the remaining olive oil and serve immediately with crusty bread.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Waa, waa, waa.....just some good old boo-hooing!
I feel like having survived Phill's deployments should make me an expert at Waiting It Out Patiently and Cheerfully 101. But guess what? When he's gone these days (usually for drill or for some Army schooling), it's still not easy! I still feel so much less cheerful, so far from my usual self, so stressed, frazzled, moody, introverted and hermit-like. And cranky.
I wake up and tell myself, "Today is a good day! You can do it! Today will be fun!" and sometimes I genuinely believe it for the first few hours. But there's always at least one moment in each day when I find myself feeling like I just miss him and nothing really distracts me from it for a little bit. Sometimes it's when the children are doing something cute, hilarious, sweet, or all three--that's actually worse than when I'm feeling like I'm going to simply curl up in a ball on the floor if I'm interrupted for the sixtieth time while in the bathroom for pete's sake....pee's sake, actually (couldn't resist).
Saturdays are the worst without Phill. The entire day stretches before me, impossibly long and empty, while I wallow in self-pity and have nothing with which to fill the blank canvas that is A Saturday Without Phill. Today I told myself, "I'm going to wake up and work out and shower and clean the house and then go to the store and then take all of us to the park and then rent a movie and then marvel at how I didn't feel crazy all day when I put the sweet babies to bed and discover that they drift off in only minutes...." .....okay, so my expectations were hilariously high today. But I didn't even do a minimally good job! I did NOT clean. I stayed in my pajamas until 2:00. THEN I worked out (10 points) and showered (5 points). Then around 5:00 we finally went to the store and rented a movie. And when I came home and cooked dinner I realized that it was too dark for the park and too late for a movie after dinner (big surprise, Lazybones). And also that my sweet little lovelies (who as it turns out were a little more on the sour side today--my grey mood was catching) all have runny noses and groggy voices and sore throats. As do I.
Oh, well. See? That's really all I can say! Oh, well, get up and get moving.....rest a little and then move forward. Start again tomorrow. Only 2 weeks left. Now I've spent far too much time griping--in fact, internally griping the whole day. I'm going to get up....and instead of finishing my movie....I'm going to go to the kitchen and clean the dried milk off the floor (I know that's so disgusting. I know it. My cheeks are burning in shame.), wipe off the chili-crusted table, pick up the toys from the living room for the splajillionth time, and maybe, just maybe, I will do a load of laundry while all of that is happening. Ah. No more griping for me while there's work to be done.
Tally-ho....?
I wake up and tell myself, "Today is a good day! You can do it! Today will be fun!" and sometimes I genuinely believe it for the first few hours. But there's always at least one moment in each day when I find myself feeling like I just miss him and nothing really distracts me from it for a little bit. Sometimes it's when the children are doing something cute, hilarious, sweet, or all three--that's actually worse than when I'm feeling like I'm going to simply curl up in a ball on the floor if I'm interrupted for the sixtieth time while in the bathroom for pete's sake....pee's sake, actually (couldn't resist).
Saturdays are the worst without Phill. The entire day stretches before me, impossibly long and empty, while I wallow in self-pity and have nothing with which to fill the blank canvas that is A Saturday Without Phill. Today I told myself, "I'm going to wake up and work out and shower and clean the house and then go to the store and then take all of us to the park and then rent a movie and then marvel at how I didn't feel crazy all day when I put the sweet babies to bed and discover that they drift off in only minutes...." .....okay, so my expectations were hilariously high today. But I didn't even do a minimally good job! I did NOT clean. I stayed in my pajamas until 2:00. THEN I worked out (10 points) and showered (5 points). Then around 5:00 we finally went to the store and rented a movie. And when I came home and cooked dinner I realized that it was too dark for the park and too late for a movie after dinner (big surprise, Lazybones). And also that my sweet little lovelies (who as it turns out were a little more on the sour side today--my grey mood was catching) all have runny noses and groggy voices and sore throats. As do I.
Oh, well. See? That's really all I can say! Oh, well, get up and get moving.....rest a little and then move forward. Start again tomorrow. Only 2 weeks left. Now I've spent far too much time griping--in fact, internally griping the whole day. I'm going to get up....and instead of finishing my movie....I'm going to go to the kitchen and clean the dried milk off the floor (I know that's so disgusting. I know it. My cheeks are burning in shame.), wipe off the chili-crusted table, pick up the toys from the living room for the splajillionth time, and maybe, just maybe, I will do a load of laundry while all of that is happening. Ah. No more griping for me while there's work to be done.
Tally-ho....?
Friday, September 26, 2008
Hiatus from the Heat/Sick of Sweat
I thought I was adjusting well to the Saint George heat. I figured my ability to keep my mind in a sane place even while my skin was seeming to crackle with the baking heat was a good sign that I'd do just fine with the weather here in Utah's Dixie.
I was absolutely wrong. I am not adjusting well to the heat. I was doing great when it was summer--but now that it is technically fall, I'm, well, feeling like I'm going to lose my mind!! I need autumn. I need the leaves changing and the cooling air and the watered-down sunshine. I need the respite from ferociously hot summers. And guess what? Apparently, Saint George doesn't do fall. And it's taking its toll on me.
When picking up Reed from school, as I buckle Jaxon and Savvy into their seats, leaning over Savvy's chair to do Jaxon's buckles because one of our doors is broken until we get "that one piece", sweat drips down the sides of my face in maddeningly slow trickles, mixing with the stuff the dermatologist gave me, which THEN causes my skin to itch furiously!! So as I struggle with buckles that are almost unreachable to my outstretched arms over the back of Savanna's seat, trying to get Jaxon to cooperate instead of moving like molasses, I hope it's understood why I feel rather nuts in my mind. I don't say a word. I wait until I'm sitting in the front seat, air-conditioning full-blast on my face, sweat wiped off, hair pulled up, before I ask Reed sweetly, "Did you have a good day, honey?"
Very much missing Cedar City right now.
HOWEVER!! However, I will have some rest, it appears. Since Phill will be gone for six weeks in the next month and then six weeks again in February (you know, Army stuff--as it always is), he has lovingly insisted that I go to spend this weekend with my friend in Pleasant Grove. (He actually did have to insist, and I'm glad he did. I'm getting progressively happier and more excited as it gets closer to me leaving.) And if it's even five degrees cooler than here, I will fall to my knees and kiss the green grass.
Sayonara! :) I might stop in Cedar City on my way back--we shall see!
I was absolutely wrong. I am not adjusting well to the heat. I was doing great when it was summer--but now that it is technically fall, I'm, well, feeling like I'm going to lose my mind!! I need autumn. I need the leaves changing and the cooling air and the watered-down sunshine. I need the respite from ferociously hot summers. And guess what? Apparently, Saint George doesn't do fall. And it's taking its toll on me.
When picking up Reed from school, as I buckle Jaxon and Savvy into their seats, leaning over Savvy's chair to do Jaxon's buckles because one of our doors is broken until we get "that one piece", sweat drips down the sides of my face in maddeningly slow trickles, mixing with the stuff the dermatologist gave me, which THEN causes my skin to itch furiously!! So as I struggle with buckles that are almost unreachable to my outstretched arms over the back of Savanna's seat, trying to get Jaxon to cooperate instead of moving like molasses, I hope it's understood why I feel rather nuts in my mind. I don't say a word. I wait until I'm sitting in the front seat, air-conditioning full-blast on my face, sweat wiped off, hair pulled up, before I ask Reed sweetly, "Did you have a good day, honey?"
Very much missing Cedar City right now.
HOWEVER!! However, I will have some rest, it appears. Since Phill will be gone for six weeks in the next month and then six weeks again in February (you know, Army stuff--as it always is), he has lovingly insisted that I go to spend this weekend with my friend in Pleasant Grove. (He actually did have to insist, and I'm glad he did. I'm getting progressively happier and more excited as it gets closer to me leaving.) And if it's even five degrees cooler than here, I will fall to my knees and kiss the green grass.
Sayonara! :) I might stop in Cedar City on my way back--we shall see!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Stinkin' September
So far, not a fan of this September! After my very motivating run on Saturday, I felt pretty great, until evening, when it started to get cloudy and humid. Then I started sneezing and my eyes began to look like I was in the throes of drug addiction. I figured it would go away after it rained on Sunday, thinking it must be allergies.
It didn't go away. It got worse. Not only were my eyes puffy and my sneezing coming more frequently--and I'd like to mention here that when I sneeze I feel as if I'm going to blow my scalp off with the force of it--but my nose began to drip. Then run. Aside from being just plain gross, it was annoying and eventually my nose became raw from all the wiping.
Yesterday I was brave and went for a run, thinking that it would help clear out all the gunk. Ha. I spent a good portion of my "run" walking, clutching my burning lungs and trying not to breathe through my very dry nasal passages. Unfortunately, it's hard to run when you try not to breathe. So I kept it short and came home, thinking I'd feel better once I held still for a bit. Not so much. It was all I could do to help the kids get PJ'd and bedded last night. I camped out on the couch with a roll of TP for my nose, some Powerade to re-hydrate and stay hydrated, a big fat book, and the remote. My head felt like it was growing larger and heavier by the second, until I found myself wishing that it would be logical to stick a needle in my forehead and cheeks and let my face drain. (I know that's really gross, but that's how I was feeling--gross!) Then I finally went to bed and talked to Phill for about an hour because I couldn't sleep while trying to get enough air through only one nostril. I woke up earlier than desired this morning because of that faulty nostril again, and couldn't go back to sleep. (Not fair.) And I'm cold, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and wrapping a blanket around my legs. (I suppose I'm acclimated, because 60 degrees felt pretty chilly this morning.)
I still don't know if I have just rip-roaring allergies or if I'm growing a sinus infection. (I had three almost back-to-back when I was 17. It was incredibly disgusting, but I developed a love for my raspy-hoarse voice and learned the value of lotion'd Kleenex.) But if it is allergies, well, September and I have a score to settle. I thought I was safe! Not pregnant, not summer, not surrounded by ragweed (at least not that I can smell/see)....what gives?
It didn't go away. It got worse. Not only were my eyes puffy and my sneezing coming more frequently--and I'd like to mention here that when I sneeze I feel as if I'm going to blow my scalp off with the force of it--but my nose began to drip. Then run. Aside from being just plain gross, it was annoying and eventually my nose became raw from all the wiping.
Yesterday I was brave and went for a run, thinking that it would help clear out all the gunk. Ha. I spent a good portion of my "run" walking, clutching my burning lungs and trying not to breathe through my very dry nasal passages. Unfortunately, it's hard to run when you try not to breathe. So I kept it short and came home, thinking I'd feel better once I held still for a bit. Not so much. It was all I could do to help the kids get PJ'd and bedded last night. I camped out on the couch with a roll of TP for my nose, some Powerade to re-hydrate and stay hydrated, a big fat book, and the remote. My head felt like it was growing larger and heavier by the second, until I found myself wishing that it would be logical to stick a needle in my forehead and cheeks and let my face drain. (I know that's really gross, but that's how I was feeling--gross!) Then I finally went to bed and talked to Phill for about an hour because I couldn't sleep while trying to get enough air through only one nostril. I woke up earlier than desired this morning because of that faulty nostril again, and couldn't go back to sleep. (Not fair.) And I'm cold, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and wrapping a blanket around my legs. (I suppose I'm acclimated, because 60 degrees felt pretty chilly this morning.)
I still don't know if I have just rip-roaring allergies or if I'm growing a sinus infection. (I had three almost back-to-back when I was 17. It was incredibly disgusting, but I developed a love for my raspy-hoarse voice and learned the value of lotion'd Kleenex.) But if it is allergies, well, September and I have a score to settle. I thought I was safe! Not pregnant, not summer, not surrounded by ragweed (at least not that I can smell/see)....what gives?
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Update: Mess and more mess
Well, the spring cleaning started off with a bang....and then 5.5 hours later, with a tired back, three cleaned out closets and half a trash can of broken toys from the boys' room, I decided to rest for the day. I still have the master closet to finish, which is where Phill found me buried yesterday. (Truthfully, I wasn't buried...but when he did find me, he said cheerily, "You found the floor!") As far as cleanliness itself, the house is pretty awful right now. And I'm not exaggerating. To prove my point, I'm going to post a picture of what it looks like at this moment. And then at the end of the day, I will post some more. Warning: These are very real pictures. This is my real house, the one you don't see when I have a day's warning before you come over. And this is the thing that happens when so many things don't have a designated place....which is why I'm in deep organizational mode right now. Somehow, this mess you're about to see only takes about ten minutes to create when you have three sets of little hands more than willing to "help"....onward I move into cleaner territories. Meanwhile, here's the current wilderness:
Sorry the pictures are dark. I think subconsciously my right finger refused to move the dial to the left and allow for more light. Why make it easier to see my mess? :)
Sorry the pictures are dark. I think subconsciously my right finger refused to move the dial to the left and allow for more light. Why make it easier to see my mess? :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)