The Menu

Twig has been doing his very best to be a helpful boy lately. A few days ago he created a full menu for which he wants complete and total responsibility for cooking, serving, and cleaning up.

He wanted to be responsible for this menu on Friday but for some reason it didn't happen. He was tired and Grammie wanted to go out to eat. Twig and I stayed home because he just couldn't handle going out. Saturday night we were busy doing something else that I can't remember at the moment because I'm kind of enraged.

Every time there's a large transition in our lives Twig has bladder and bowel incontinence issues. I've always known when things are rough for him because potty problems appear out of nowhere and into my nose... They've resurfaced lately. Pee and poo everywhere. Daily. Often multiple times daily.

He's typically a refuser of taking care of his potty needs. He never needs to pee. Rarely needs to poo. In the toilet that is. Whenever I get a whiff, and it's typically an awful awful awful wretched smell, I give him a look and in the gentlest voice I can muster, ask him to "take care of business". He responds with his whiniest "What?" to which I respond, in the gentlest of voices I can muster, that he has had an accident. To which he denies. I ask him to clean himself up, to wash, change, etc. And he refuses. And I can't have him walking around with that terrible stink; the knowledge that he has poop on his butt drives me crazy. There are certain things I can't let go of. Things like shit.

Shitty pants have in the past, led to a rashy ass, which has led to doctor's appointments diagnoses of Staphylococcus infections, and 3 times daily application of ointment to said rash. Yeah. Staph.

Eventually we get to a place where I'm pretty much forcibly changing his poopy pants and underpants, cleaning shit off of him and his clothes (and the bathroom), and being screamed at that he doesn't need help, he hasn't done anything, that I'm a bad mom, to leave him alone, that he can't wait to go on an airplane by himself, etc. It is plain and simple: he hates me. I'm behaving in ways that make him hate me. And I'm trying to pick and choose my battles here.

In the middle of him cooking dinner tonight, I smelled "the smell". I asked him to change his clothes and clean himself up. He slammed the bathroom door. Multiple times. Screamed at me and called me bad, stupid, yadda yadda yadda. I offered to help. He told me to get out of the bathroom, that he didn't need help. I stayed and tried to explain that I understood it was embarrassing, that accidents happen, that we'd be visiting the doctor on Friday because we are worried that he can't feel it coming out, or smell it, or acknowledge that it's happened. I tried to force my help upon him. Eventually I gave in. Angry that it's difficult to get shit done (ha!) I barked my orders: change into clean clothes, wash ass, wash shit off of clothes, put washcloth in dirty washcloth tub, clean out shitty tub, wash hands. Call me if you want help.

He changed his underpants. Wet the washcloth, put it in the tub and resumed cooking. Lied to our faces about washing his hands. With still-shitty pants. And dirty hands. And guess what - suddenly I wasn't hungry any more. And neither was Wood. More screaming at me ensued. Horrible, mean, awful, bad mom.

Then he cooked. And ate. And served Grammie. And when that was done, I helped him get ready for his shower. In the process of helping him get undressed, I showed him the shit on his pants. And the shit that was on the clean underwear that he put on his ass that he didn't wash. And tried to express to him my frustration with him denying that it wasn't there in the first place. It was likely a lot less gentle than I'd like it to be. He's been acting out a LOT lately.

When he got into the shower, we talked about what had transpired. It came out that he thinks I'm mean to him all of the time. As hard as it was to hear that (since I don't always feel it), we accidentally dug a little deeper. My reserves and tolerance is terribly low - I'm done having this talk, this argument, this shit. I want the shower over and for him to go to bed. And after telling him what needed to happen next, he responded in a way that helped me understand that my directive, straight forward, no nonsense approach feels mean to him. I think that I try to reserve the barking for the times that it's really necessary. I give warning after warning, count from 3 to 1, suggest to him that my tone and body language are trying to convey something, suggest that he won't like it when I soon start yelling. But apparently to him the meanness is constant.

So, he's mean to me because he's "just giving it back". Wow, almost 7 years old and able to articulate all of that. But not manage his bowels. I don't know what to do. I feel so angry at him - and awful for not being able to suck it up and go with it. To pretend that everything is happy and good and that these kinds of things aren't a problem.

It's immeasurably difficult for me to let go when it's over. I get so worked up and it takes such a long time to come down. I wonder what is wrong with me, what is wrong with him. I'm fairly certain, even in the middle of it, that I'm doing exactly the same thing my mom did with me - being demanding, uncompromising, fiercely angry - and pushing him away faster than I need to. I question if letting him control everything that was important to him would calm his attempts to control things or make them worse. And I think back to my days working with people who had behaviorists involved in their lives - teaching me about The ABC's (Antecedent, Behavior, Consequense) of undesirable behavior. I know I have a part in it. And I know that this poo problem is not best served by natural consequences. I know he gets something from it too. Sure, we could ignore it, let him get a rash, and spread his feces all over the house. But I can't let it go. Any of it. I just can't.

We have an appointment to see a doctor this week. It concerns me that perhaps it isn't behavioral and I'm just now getting to exploring that possibility. Even though this problem has always been intermittent, I'm pretty certain it should have been addressed medically before now. I'm sure the stress of our lives is taking it's toll on Twig, too. And I'm feeling really shitty about myself, my behavior, the situation. All of the good that does happen doesn't cancel out the fact that I've behaved badly too.

Tonight, I missed dinner prepared by my favorite Chef. It's really my loss.

FIF

Most people say TGIF. I said it this morning and shortly afterward, changed my exclamation to: Fuck, It's Friday!

Once upon a time, Friday meant the beginning of the weekend. Slowing down a bit from the frenetic feel of the work week. Of hanging out with friends. Of taking a day to sit at home and re-connect with the family. Lately, Friday means getting out of work earlier than most and getting a head start on the things that we didn't or can't get to during the week.

Meal planning, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning the toilet, laundry, paying bills.

It's harder than ever for me to get these 'regular' things done because Grammie needs a fair amount of attention. In addition to the day to day cooking for her, organizing her days and such, there's the other things that she needs and has every right to want taken care of. Things like nail care, hair care, church, going out to eat. I never expected I'd ever say I didn't want to go out to eat... I don't really want to go out to eat. She wants to do it all of the time. I like it to be a treat. And she can't really do those things on her own anymore.

Anyway, a fourth person in the house has an impact I'd never really appreciated - or had to appreciate - before now. There is another person's needs/desires around food to take into consideration. There are safety concerns around her cooking on her own especially when we're not home. The bathroom, kitchen and floors get dirtier when there's a fourth person here so I can't fudge on doing things like cleaning the toilet when I could when it was just the three of us. Certainly, the fact that both Twig and Grammie aren't exactly aware of or care about how messy they are adds to the mix a bit. Sometimes I get really frustrated. Most times I try to come up with a solution that will make things easier for everyone. And I always remind myself that while some things are personality driven and extremely annoying I can't change who another person is. And that the reason she's here is because of her disease process.

Truth be told, Wood and I seem to be adjusting to this new life of nightly trading of sleeping spots (I'm on the living room futon, he's on the bed with Twig or he's on the futon and I'm in the bed) whilst Grammie is in Twig's bed. Twig seems to be adjusting to it okay. And I'm trying to let him check out if he needs to (e.g. Grammie and Wood went to dinner without us tonight - what a treat!). We all are sort of figuring out how 4 people shower and pee in the mornings with only one bathroom. And we keep communicating about day to day activities like who needs to be where and by when, who will drop off and who will pick up, where we will meet in between. We are trying to carve out individual time and family time. And hopefully we'll find sex time. Given that last statement, you'd imagine that we haven't had the time to even think about looking for a new place. We are doing well working as a team but we aren't getting used to the pace that we have to keep to ensure things are working well.

Hence, Fuck, It's Friday! No time to slow down. Ballet, groceries, nails, hair, pharmacy, play date, church, cleaning, cooking, laundry. Exercise needs to get in there too. We'll find our sea legs one day soon. And hopefully, Friday will take on it's "it's almost time to relax" meaning, someday real soon.

Thanks for reading. And thanks for commenting. :)

Daddy's Back

And that presents its own set of challenges. Navigating his emotions in the context of everyone else's is rather hard for me. The boy has been extra shitty. And I'm no perfect role model. Bad role model, actually. Wood's learned mantra is when you walk past the dishwasher and its loaded all wrong, remember, no one is gonna die". And while I subscribe to the concept, I find myself perseverating on mundane tasks that aren't really worth pushing about. And are the things that are: Twig's nasty tone, disrespectful back talk, willful disregard for any request we make of him. Nothing works. And after a while I get enraged and want to physically hurt him.

I blame Wood. At times he's disrespectful toward me. Even when he's kidding it's not good. And Twig sees it and thinks it's okay. Then again, other parents of kids his age are having very similar challenges. Maybe it's the fact that it's summer, that grammie is living with us, that I'm working full time... Or that he lost his two front teeth. Or something.

All I know is I'm headed to kick boxing tomorrow. Cause if I don't beat the shit outta something I'm gonna beT the.shit outta someone and that should be avoided at all costs.

Don't Tell Me What To Do

Every morning, as soon as my MIL has any indication that we are awake, she parks herself at the kitchen table. And waits. For me to serve her breakfast. She'll get herself some cereal, spills milk on the floor, makes a mess.of the table, and puts her dishes in the sink - even if the dishwasher is ready for dirty dishes. She always puts the dishes in the wrong way - cups and glasses on the bottom rack, plates on the top, or some weird combination of the two. She always has to be told to put the dishes in the dishwasher. She never has been a neatnick, and never really used a dishwasher so its kind of understandable that its not her first thought or that she's not good at it. Dishes aren't her strong suit, Hell cleaning has never been her strong suit... This is nothing new. And she does have Alzheimer Disease (I'm reading The 36 Hour Day and they've taken out the 's out of the name in the 4th edition). After she puts her things near me so that I can clean up after her, she sits down at the table and waits for more food. An egg. And juice. And toast. And her medicine. She just sits there and waits. And if I'm not getting to it fast enough, after all I'm also making breakfast and lunch for Twig and myself (Wood is out of town but he's often part of that equation), she asks of she can have an egg. And watches me make it. She has Alzheimer disease and part of her behavior is annoying because she has a fucked up disease and part of her behavior is annoying because she's living in my house and I don't like most people enough to spend a weekend with them much less live with 'em. But there's more. It's been a greuling week at work and last night I skipped making a full meal for dinner. I offered left overs and promptly parked my ass on the couch with a stiff drink in hand. And she came to the living room asking me for a salad. And followed that up with "I want salad every day" with dinner. There's lettuce in the fridge. "I need cucumbers and tomatoes" every day... I don't have the energy to do a full meal every day. I'd skip meals several times a week if it weren't for the fact that I live with other other people who can't skip meals. She then talks about how she can pay for the salad fixings, contribute to the weekly food budget. Which I explain is very generous and we can work that out another time. But she presses the need for salad ingredients. And I understand! All of it. She needs roughage so she can shit (I get it, I've got bleeding hemmorhoids from eating badly). And she's asking because in reality she's a guest in my home, reliant on me for just about all of her needs. I have to turn on the shower every day because she can't do it on her own. Sequencing, any activity that takes several steps is really hard for her. And I KNOW its her disease. And I STILL feel like she's telling me what to do, how to do it, and when. I ABSOLUTELY HATE to be told what to do in that "you're obligated, bound to it because I said so kind of way". And when I'm completely overwhelmed, overextended, overtired AND doing Twig and Grammy care alone and my full-time FUCKING JOB is Grammy care and I'm doing both with too few resources: hands on deck support, money, hours in the day, etc. It doesn't take long for me to feel like the slightest expectation of me is a provocation and at best feel bitchy or at worst act badly. Jeezus, this has only begun. Right now, all I wanna do is run! But I gotta get up and make breakfast.

Self Care

Once upon a time I told my mom that the should start planning for her old age because when she got there she would not be invited to come live with me. The way she saw it, my statement was as an affront, that I didn't like her, perhaps I didn't love her. The way I saw it was that I had lived with her before and know the limits of my personality when mixed with hers. Fast forward about 15 years or so and pretty much 5 minutes after meeting my mother-in-law the same feeling welled up in me something fierce.

And yet, 10 or so years later, I find myself living with my mother-in-law.

What changed?

She did. I did.

I can no longer get on the institutional bandwagon. After spending an entire career supporting people with disabilities and seniors to live in the community, asking either of our mothers to live in an institution when we could semi-reasonably attend to their needs seems a bit hypocritical, no? And frankly, I've grown up a bit and believe that its a monumentally important task and learning opportunity for the parent, the adult children and the grandchild. Intense as it may be - I fully expect for it to be overwhelmingly okay until it's not - it will be one Hell of a learning event. Respect for your elders, familial care/love, self care, circle of life...

In true social worker fashion, I've already identified support groups for caregivers, Alzheimers specific groups, told my husband that he's absolutely REQUIRED to attend (anyone who really know me knows that I demand little beyond basic respect from people), have looked into hiring a housekeeper for the chores, hired a part time caregiver for the non-program days Grammy is home alone, talked with my employer about her needs, and will continue to put necessary pieces in place to make this good for everyone - at least as good as it can be.

I have certainly fallen into my typical coping mechanism patterns of sugar/pastry in all its forms, coffee (periodically), insomnia, and no exercise. I give myself permission to do these things because something's gotta give. NARF is correct, I am not Super Woman (but, achem, I'm pretty freaking awesome in what I do accomplish) and I know I have to take care of my health too! I have a plan, and I will develop it more fully soon. Right. after I plan my weekend away. Oh yeah! I'm going to need my alone time periodically - to cry uncontrollably, sleep, have physical space from people, to not be accessible - to be off "needed" duty for a while. I've known for years in the deep depths of my soul that this time would come. Not the details, but that I would be here and now as a caregiver, that I would have my own set of needs. And way back when I knew that I'd check out of my caregiving duties and into a hotel to relax, recharge, reboot my systems.

No time like the present, right? I think I'll be making that reservation today!

Long Time No Write

I periodically get an email from Sitemeter that gives me an overview of the activity related to this here blog. One showed up bright and early this morning and since I usually wake up before anyone else, I took a look at the stats. Something strange is going on! I haven't actually written anything and posted here on almost 8 months. Eight months! And despite that, My Lady had 25 visits last week. Downright impressive that she's been working so hard and hasn't even been trying.

All kidding aside, it has been a long time since I've taken the time to write. And wouldn't you know it if the past 8 months have been such that I could have used a visit with my Nice Lady.

In the interest of time (and the fact that I'm writing this from bed on an Android phone with my over tired 6.75 year old sleeping peacefully next to me), here's what I've been up to:

Hubbie's started a new Job - in another state.
Was a single parent for 3 months.
Managed updates and remodel of our bathroom in preparation for out of state move. While working full time.
Hired moving company.
Packed house.
Rented said house out.
Moved out of state.
Unpacked house.
Started Twig at a new school.
Worked part-time remotely and finished a couple of work projects.
Had visitors from home. (notice very big smile on my face).
Volunteered at school, took the boy to swimming lessons, and the playground after school, kept house, met my husband for lunch once a week, exercised daily, made new friends, settled into our new life and started to enjoy a slower pace.
Got a new job. Started working full-time. about two weeks before summer started.
Set Twig up for summer camp. Took on single parenting while Hubbie's been out of town for work.
Attempted to get 68 year old Mother-in-Law with early onset Alzheimers Disease living in LA admitted to Assisted Living facility in my new town of Portland, OR. Which did not happen. She's living with us now. In our two bedroom 900 square foot rental.

I always swore that I'd be the only mother living in my house. Those words are now biting me in the ass! I want to do the right thing, and I (we) will. And three weeks in, I'm realizing just how hard its going to be.

I need a Nice Lady like never before. See you soon, I hope.

Vulnerability

Well then. A woman who pretty much sums up everything this blog is about. In about 10 minutes. And I love her.

Sometimes Wood tells me that I'm "too much". My response is something akin to "I'm just enough and don't you ever forget it."

Thank you #1 Reader for turning me on to it. And thank you, Wonelle, for taking the time for yourself.

I've Got a Hot Date

I've got a hot date. Not with my bad-boy, leather jacket, cowboy boots wearing, cigarette smoking, alcoholic boyfriend (Anthony Bourdain), my 'I'll give you anything you want from underpants to grated cheese, and take it all back without any hesitation as long as you use your rewards card' boyfriend (Fred Meyer), or my geeky-smart 'I will tell you how to make the best cheesecake, pork loin, or anything else you could ever want to eat and teach you the science of doing it in a way that you'll love it so that you'll want me more' boyfriend (Alton Brown). Nah, I got a date with my husband, Wood.

I warned him, many years ago, that he'd have to promise to be my boyfriend forever if he wanted to marry me. He agreed. But as with many things in our probably better than average marriage, as it turns out, I'm in charge of making him keep certain promises. Like being boyfriend and girlfriend.

Don't get me wrong, we both want to date each other. It's just that things have been kinda off-the-hook insane for the past 4-5 months or so. No, really insane. So insane that the following list is not in correct order. I can't begin to remember the timeline. And as you read, you'll begin to understand why. (not to mention the fact that I typically remember every detail of super-hard-stressful, dare I say bad events, with startling clarity and recall)

Grammy had surgery scheduled, then rescheduled, then barely completed because she was so scared by the prospect. But in the meantime she had several falls, lost about 125 lbs. and was in such ill-health and mental capacity we were really afraid something bad was going to happen. We had to go to LA LA land to be with her twice between July and September and she fought us every step of the way (but claimed she wanted us there).

Wood interviewed for a job in Portland, Oregon just before the canceled surgery was to take place. Then in the middle of Grammy's health debacle, he was offered the job and had to secretly negotiate the terms of the deal. He accepted the job (!!) but didn't tell his mom for some time.

He finally told her - about a week before he moved to Portland. She was kind of devastated.

Some of our closest friends moved to Costa Rica. Our other closest friends didn't take the news of our moving to Portland, on the tails of friends moving to Costa Rica, too well.

My nephew was diagnosed with a rare and extremely aggressive form of cancer and was literally hanging on to his life by a thread and a prayer (a lot of prayer from a lot of people). He spent about 3 weeks in ICU and another week or two after that in the hospital.

My sister (the same sister with the son with cancer) was pregnant with my niece who was diagnosed in eutero with a bi-lateral cleft lip and palate. Did I mention her due date was 10 days after my nephew was admitted to the hospital? And that she's estranged from the dad of the baby? Because he's got domestic violence and child abuse in his past (which she found out well after she got pregnant)? That she delivered the baby when my nephew was sedated and medically paralyzed?

My family had a hard time with the news of our move. And the plan for me and Twig to be with Wood for a week at Thanksgiving was not taken well. My nephew was still in ICU. It was hard, but necessary, to leave.

My house was burglarized the day - actually the exact same time - that I had a phone interview for a job in Portland. Thank goodness the interviewer was late calling me and my neighbor called me to tell me what was happening. And that the interviewer rescheduled the call considering I had to deal with the Police and all.

I was a single mom of a kindergartner who had some behavioral problems at home and school (in a class that didn't have a great teacher), doing all of the drop offs and pick ups, cooking cleaning, shopping, etc. AS WELL AS managing household improvements/repairs so that we could rent our house out once we moved all while my husband lived and worked in Portland.

I quit a great job with fantastic people, stopped exercising, and kind of got used to being on my own again. Which was my biggest fear of living apart for a while. I can be a bit of a recluse and a bitch to live with if left to my own devices.

While there are about 500 other really tough things that happened during that time, and I can't remember (whew!), we're now in Portland reunited as a family, unpacking, starting a new school (with a much better teacher thank-you-very-much), managing challenging behaviors, mourning our losses, celebrating our gains - and addressing the gambit of the issues that go along with a family separated-moving to a new place-now reconnecting...

Hence the hot date.

It's been really cold here at times (literally and figuratively); the date was for us to work on gathering all of our resources to get and stay all cozy-warm. I'm sure that there will continue be a cold front here and there. But as one of my four readers has said so eloquently, marriages have seasons. Some are cold and some are hot. And even though I was born and raised in California, I know that no matter what, it takes work to make it through any severe weather pattern.

*************
Things on all other fronts are much better now! Nephew's cancer is better - not treated (but no more tumors!), baby is born with only cleft lip (!!), they caught the kid that broke in, I was able to reschedule my phone interview (even though I bombed it), I'm working part time for my fantastic employer in Oakland from Portland for a while, I'm running again, trying to stretch my interpersonal skills and make new friends, I've got the inclination and desire to write, and I've got my family back together again. Equilibrium will begin to show itself sometime soon. GAWD, I hope!

Old Habits Die Hard

Today I broke my year long caffeine fast and had a regular soy latte for breakfast. Peanut M&M's for brunch. Reeses Peanut Butter Cups for Lunch. Plain M&M's for a mid day snack. A couple of saltines and water to calm my stomach. Rounded it off with Chinese: Lemon Chicken, Green Beans and Brown Rice, all washed down with a Racer 5 IPA.

Yesterday was hard, exhausting, excruciating. And brought family dynamics stuff to the forefront - magnified by a million.

I'm abandoning my family, I'm the outcast, they don't choose me to help even though I'm available and want to help. Because I'm not like them, I don't do things correctly. I'm no good.

This is not logical. It is purely emotional.

Pure Chatter

A woman showering at the gym tonight was scrubbing her skin with one of those green kitchen brillo pads used for getting the caked on baked on goo off of pots & pans. All I could think was hmmmm.

I had a great running dream. It was the same night we happened to see part of the Boston Marathon on TV. In my dream I ran fast and strong for a long time. It felt good. In my waking run over a week ago, my knee hurt with every step and afterward for a couple of days. I have a half marathon in June and haven't trained enough. Because of the knee pain. So I'll go to the chiropractor, keeping my fingers crossed that it's something that can be addressed simply.

Tonight I meet another mom for tea and planning for the preschool 'yearbook'. My boy goess to kindergarten in the fall. And while there is plenty to keep me busy, I'm volunteering for the school's auction by entering information into a database, I felt compelled to try to help. The woman who is doing the work is one of the very few that I care for. Most are not my type in the least. The ones that have been at the school since the beginning of time. This mom is new like us. And ready to be finished with this school. I have no illusions about the new place or that the families will be that much different than the ones we've encountered here. But fully understand that I'm not too open to certain people. That and I'm simply not the kind of person that walks around pretending that the world is perfect or anything resembling my experience of it. I'm judgemental and disinterested in being like most of them but also get that being closed off is not helpful either.

The Witching Hour

Apparently my internal clock is set to wake me up at exactly 4am.every day. Which sucks because it's not like I can just pop up and vaccuum or do the dishes. NO, I've got othr people in the house to consider. And doing exactly that is probably why I wake so freaking early in the morning- I put Twig to sleep at 8pm. Duuuh, Wonelle, 8pm to 4am is exactly 8 hours! So you have two choices: figure out how to stay up later (feudal) or figure out how to get some shit done in the wee hours of the morn. And I do not mean #2. Sometimes the simplest things are lost on you, Wonelle.

I owe y'all a post on the Oakland Marathon & my sinus surgery. It's just that I've been taking recouperrate to the extreme. Except I'll probably hit the gym tonight. Slugggishness is setting in...

Yawn

I'm tired.

The paperwork said to get plenty of rest the week prior to surgery. I've been burning the candle at both ends. Staying awake late to meet deadlines, getting up early to keep house, exercising multiple times a week for at least two hours at a time, planning as many social activities as possible. Amid all of the craziness I even took some time off of work. Not because I wanted to, more like because I had to. But, I decided to approach the day different than usual. No, no, no, I didn't have a leisurely day planned. Instead, I decided to do the fun stuff first.

And it worked! Twig and I had a lot of fun and then he was able to keep himself occupied AND help me with housework (he's a master of dusting and dishes despite the broken bowl). It was nice to be able to redirect his "bad" behavior and actually get the response I was looking for. He seems to be quite satisfied with our time together too.

We're having company for dinner and I have no interest in finishing the cleaning, no desire to cook. But I do want to spend time with our friends. So I'll suck it up and make frozen pizza or something equally easy to prepare and clean up...

Been thinking about my dad a lot lately. Want to write something about him but it's not quite there. I'm hoping that next week I'll feel energetic enough - and not too loopy - to write to him. I miss him a lot and often feel sad that we didn't talk for about 10 years before he died. He was a stubborn cuss though and I tried a meager try as it were.

Two Trips to the Vending Machine

Oh, Mrs. Frreshley how I covet your no trans fat per serving creme filled doesn't really taste like chocolate ccupcakes. To the tune of 4 today.

I'm stressed that I'm going to have surrgery a week from Thursday and there iss always so much undone at the end of each day. I feel the most displeasure when the undone thngs incclude not returning phone calls to friends (so sorry J & B & J) and that I struggle to keep up with their excitement, acccomplishments and milestones (birthday cards, holiday cards & the like unsent) that supporting other friends through their daily struggles doesn't come as easily as it once did (Miss P).

Spring has sprung and that always reminds me that everything is always changing and that I should remember to be gentle on me too. Gentle isn't my strongest personality trait. So I self medicate with vending machine food that labels itself as cupcakes. After a two hour workout last night I can get away with it. For today.

Happy Anniversay

Seven. Offiicially, that is. Ten total.

We're in Calistoga celebrating in an olympic sized swimming pool, mud baths and full session masages. And cucumber-lemon water to clean out all the othe stuff.

Sheer luxury and leisure. The last time we were here was 9 years ago. Wow, how time flies when you're having fun!

I hope to post 'The Anti-Socialite' - or how bad I am at maintaining friendships because of my husband, child, house, exercise rroutine, cooking fetish, full-time job and other excuses I'd like to denounce because they get in the way of meaningful adult relationships and I think I'm a putz for not keepingg in touch more regularly - post soon. Shit, I volunteered to do some school auction stuff and that will keep me busy for the next few weeks... maybe not doing soon, just more thinking about it...

Happy Anniversary

Wood and I are celebrating our 7 year wedding anniversary this week... We're dropping Twig off at Bam's house and heading to the spa. What bourgeois yuppies we are. One night, 2 mud baths, swimming in the olympic size pool, massages and cucumber water, and fine dining for several meals sans kid... here I come!

Happy Friday!

It's Friday!

And I've been waiting all week for today!

Whew, I have been lots more tired this week than usual. My sleep has been disturbed a lot lately for no apparent reason. Lat night however, I slept like a log. Maybe it was the beer. Or the late - - almost midnight - - bedtime that helped... Who cares? I slept for something like 5 hours n a row and that is huge in my world.

I've also been having more than usual shortness of breath lately when carrying as little as 20 lbs. Usually when walking to and from my office... I think my tiredness has something to do with my COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease - chronic Bronchitis in my case). Unfortunately it is a progressive disease that can be managed but not cured. My fear of drowning to death will someday come true, I'm afraid. I will eventually come to be okay with that prospect.

The diagnosis came a little more than a year ago when I just couldn't bounce back from a cold and later couldn't walk anywhere or carry anything without being extremely short of breath. With my history of smoking, recurrent bouts with lung infections and other issues - most notably the need for oral steroids for a lung infection while I was pregnant, and pretty much every cold since then with no significant improvement over several months of seeing many different doctors and trying many different medication regimes, there it is. Upon meeting my (beloved) pulmonologist and hearing him say I'd be taking inhaled medicine for the rest of my life and that I needed to exercise to stay healthy, it hit home real hard. Actually, it became real for the first time.

I'm late for a work meeting so more on this and my fabulous anniversary weekend plans later. Sorry for the typos, I'm on my smart phone, blogging from the parking lot. No spell check option here!

Hump Day

Is it Friday yet?

Sleep sucked again last night; my boy, my body/breathing and my brain all getting in the way. Not 100% sure what exactly is getting in the way to make this a regular occurrence...

On a brighter note, these longer days are nice even if they are cold, cold, cold. And we did get the public school choice we wanted for Twig! We are now planning to take him out of preschool in late June for a series of summer camp sessions that will include a swimming camp, gymnastics, outdoor science camp, and very likely a Mandarin and/or Spanish immersion camp.

Work finds me soon taking on more responsibilities (gladly). And exercise, eating, etc. are going well enough. My body has decided that fatty foods, alcohol and sugar will cause great allergic reaction (swelling of hands and feet) so I'm looking at and actively making significant dietary changes. Not a bad thing, not a bad thing at all.

My lungs are acting badly lately... My sinuses are too but I am scheduled to have those surgically addressed at the end of the month. It's all okay overall but every now and again, I'm confronted with my health in ways that I don't like. I'm reminded that my lungs will be deteriorating over time... It makes me feel sad, weak and depressed but, I just charge ahead despite my fears and anxieties about the future. After all, I'm relatively healthy now and that is all that matters for the time being.

And my family is healthy too. Life really is pretty darn good!

How Do You Figure?

I slept for almost 11 hours last night. At 11 am today I was still yawning. What gives? Granted, i% was not without sleep interruptions. The boy has been sleeping in his own bed for two months or more. I've been using a homeopathic sleep aid. And I'm still exhausted.

I just don't understand.

insomnia

Maybe it's my husband's incessant snoring that keeps me awake at night... not the caffeine...

Fine, it's both.

Either way I find it annoying to be awake while everyone else is peacefully sleeping. The snoring makes it hard to fall back to sleep and when it's especially annoying (like tonight) it makes me mad. Which doesn't help the relaxation process either.

I'm sure I'm mad about something else. Just haven't worked it out yet. Although, the fact that I've been (pending post on the subject written this morning so will show up after this post when finally published at a reasonable hour on Sunday) parenting an over tired and physically demanding kid for the past couple of weeks might have something to do with my generally pissy demeanor. Add in being awake at 1am after cleaning up the pee accident, which came after the getting ready for bed fight which came after the getting dressed for ballet and not one but two birthday parties today fights (it really was a great day), you can see why I'm feeling a little possessive of my rest time.

Mmmkayyy, now it's time to take back my night. Sweet dreams and thanks for reading!

Spine of Steel, Heart of Stone

A friend once gave me the sage advice about parenting. "Spine of Steel, Heart of Stone", she said. It was certainly during one of those times when the boy was being what I like to call 'extra, extra'.

He's been pushing all of my buttons these last few weeks. Playing instead of getting dressed, not answering when I ask a question or give direction. While those things are to be expected when child rearing, they do kind piss me off when they have been the norm for such a while (or at least what feels like such a long time - these are recurring issues). But there is one thing that really, I mean really makes me angry and that is his violence. Acting as if he will be violent with dirty looks, stances, and even props. Sometimes it's not just for show, he actually karate kicks me or punches me. And every time we have these altercations, he gets hurt. Take today as an example.

He didn't want to change his tights (he takes ballet and the tights he was wearing had a hole in them.) He didn't want to change and didn't until I helped. Soon thereafter he wasn't answering my questions so I sent him to his room for the customary time out. Which made him more angry. Since he was trying to shoot me with fiddlesticks, punching me as I tried to walk out of the room, he tried to snatch them out of my hands and quickly turned around for his departure and ran into the corner of his dresser. OUCH! His shoulder screaming and tears flowing but he was now able to listen.

There are moments I think I should simply beat the crap out of him. Seems that reason isn't working on him. Truth is I need to go to my happy place when this stuff comes up. I'm beat down. Truly beat down. For now that is. I'll get it back soon enough - without any child abuse. Mark my words.

Yawn

I know better than do drink caffeinated beverages and yet, in my infinite wisdom in following the natural healing book, I drank green tea yesterday.

Woke up at 1am, unable to go back to sleep until 4:30am - or something equally outrageous. And then the alarm roused me at 6am.

Worked all day and got a lot done. But in the afternoon, my lungs said NO to more activity tonight. No boot camp. Sleep. But I had to ask Wood to give me permission to take a night off. "lots of goo coming out of my lungs, even after taking medicine, I need permission to listen to my body and rest today". He was gentle and supportive; here I am feeling slightly guilty for not doing more than writing despite him being correct.

Tomorrow I will have more energy. Like I did over the weekend. I will pick up an extra exercise session when my body is less fatigued. If my body is less fatigued. I will run on Saturday.

For now, I will change out of my work clothes and cuddle with the boy on the couch. Because I can!

I Choose

In some fit of wisdom, I realized that I had to choose every day to be married. Before I got married that is. 

I realized today that my current challenges are that because I need to choose to behave like a grown up. Knowing is not enough. Now I must act on the knowledge. That knowledge makes the depression non existent. And the tears make it less heavy, too. 

I choose to be a responsible role model of a grown up. So now I'm going to sleep.

This Has Been a Prickly Time

Paula uses the term frequently enough that it has begun to make good sense to use it. I do hope it is oaky to do so. I need something to describe how I am feeling, mostly at work lately, but often outside the office too. It's not pms, not bitchy. Frustrated is appropriate but I don't think it really conveys the right message. Depressed could work but I routinely dismiss that term because of all of the other things connected to it. Negative stereotypes and all. But that is going to have to do for now because I'm doing this from my cell phone potty break. Yup, I know it's TMI but imagining the perplexed look on your face or furrowed brow because of it makes me grin & giggle and I need to do that a lot lately to keep my sanity. So there! Until later...

legumes & other excesses

Oooh, I've been eating too many beans this week. Black beans., refried beans, lentils, soy beans. No meat. Just beans! Yum and yuck all at the same time. My body craves them but noses (mine and everyone else's) simply don't agree.

I officially met my weight loss goal this week! 30 pounds and 4 sizes in a year. Keep the weight or lower for 6 weeks and I'm a lifetime member of weight watchers for free!

took two classes at the gym last night in preparation for the Oakland Marathon 5k at the end of March. And I'm feeling it, too. But it's to be expected. It's more that I usually do but it must be done to go to the next level of fitness.

that's all for now. My break is over!

Whoa, Nellie!

Oh, my today was a challenging, busy day. Actually, it's been a challenging, busy week. No, make that a month (or more).

Hubbie is, on very short notice, out of town this weekend at his aging, ailing mother's request, helping to clean her apartment of it's sundry items so that she doesn't get evicted for her not-so-well hidden from her landlord when they came in to inspect smoke detectors hoarding tendencies. She doesn't want me to know that this is an issue but if Twig's any indicator - When I told him that Daddy had to go to LA to visit Grammie and help her with some things for the weekend, his response was "You mean to help her throw things away and clean her apartment?", um, yeah, nobody knows...

Last week was a long weekend, I had a 100% free day (hubbie was working and Twig was in school), so I spent it cooking. All day prepping vegetables from our food box for the following week. Joyous times bee-bopping in the kitchen, doin' my thang. But with really swollen ankles/feet in the evening. And that evening we went to visit some friends for a get together - dinner and Olympic opening ceremonies - while the food, wine and company were excellent, the ceremonies started so late that we didn't get to watch more than about 10 minutes before we had to leave, already an hour and a half past Twigs bed time. Needless to say the next day he woke up earlier than usual unable to go back to sleep. And although he had a huge breakfast that morning, he was less than himself for the rest of the day. Ballet class found him not able to really focus on the teachers instruction. While focus is a tad bit of a "problem" for him under normal circumstances, he was in an extra special place that day. So Sunday I let him sit in front of the TV for most of the day and was not displeased when ballet/tap class (yes, he's willingly taking two ballet classes) was cancelled. I hadn't cleaned the house in a few weeks. Monday was another holiday. Despite the playdate, he melted when we tried to get me some new running shoes. Hubbie melted too. It was all in all, a really bad scene. Much of the week has been difficult. Is he still overtired? Hell if I know. But probably so.

The previous weekend we went snowboarding (spent a small fortune and had a fabulous time) but leaving on Friday and coming home on Sunday leaves little time for things like laundry and lavatory duty). Oh, lest we forget about the fact that the slopes kicked my lily-white ass and I was effing beat. There was no energy to be mustered to do things like clean after snowboarding and traveling or before going to work.

The week before that I'm sure we were busy too... observing a real serious pre-ballet program in the City. One that he can start in the fall (the boy wants to dance the Nutcracker - yes, he's 5 and he has such lofty goals), helping one of Hubbie's friends by taping the boy to be on a pop up "no-no, that's a dangerous web site" video for their company, eating out as a treat, birthday party for the twins of friends we haven't seen in oh-too-long, Sunday Ballet/tap, and then fun with the French - whom, by the way, we adore and spend far to little time with because they live in Berkeley and that's oh, so freaking far away!

But back to today, this week, this weekend... Is Mercury in retrograde? I mean shit-fuck-piss-son-of-a-bitch, it seems like everything that I need to do is dependent on another person in some way, shape, or form, and damn if they aren't doing their part. All I do is spend time managing people and projects that I shouldn't have to manage. Okay, that's not totally true, but it really feels like people aren't taking seriously the work that they need to do for me. And I'm being forced to fight really hard to get them to do their stuff so that I can get my stuff done. And even when it is done I still have to fight, or find workarounds, or generally work harder because everyone else around seems to have found ways to work less, take less responsibility, and be okay with doing "what we can", or... OR?

My blood pressure was sky high today. Not because of any one thing. It was simply the culmination of many things; the many "fights" that happen at work, at home, in my head, while driving down the street, in my husband's head, that have just piled up. But now, more than ever, I am feeling very vulnerable.

Budget issues at the State and Federal levels do threaten my agency. And while my program is a main function of why the agency exists, my position is expendable (and my boss has reminded me that he held a position exactly like mine so he could take it over quite easily if needed). I don't want to be expendable or vulnerable so I feel as if I have to work harder than ever to make my worth known. I'm swamped catching up, cleaning up, and making things up as I go along.

Hubbie is struggling more than ever with his work, his health, his overcommitted calendar and he's not in a good space. Having to be responsible for his mom's problems doesn't help matters much. I had the most horrible dream of him having a long standing affair with someone at work that I had met and spent time with on several occasions. And my reaction in the dream was exactly like it was toward my high school boyfriend who cheated - with the girl that had introduced us and whom I called my best friend. It was petulant, angry, and inconsolable. And it was a dream that seemed to last forever.

The putting out fire mode, being in situations that do not allow me the time and space I need to be able to act "appropriately", is not where I like to be. And yet, it's always been there where I've been able to thrive. In a crazy kind of way, being in chaos has always fueled me to move. The movement was simply a cover, a way to deflect the shit that was being thrown at me. Trouble is, I don't like, have never liked chaos - or crazy - at all. So, I moved forward: succeed at or at least appear to be living a socially acceptable, normal life and sooner or later the craziness seems odd, and the internal compass "you can become anything, make your life, your relationships, anything you want them to be", "you are not bound to follow the destiny your makers have set for you" is automatic, innate, normal. Except when the chaos is overwhelming and uncontrollable; like it's been this month, this week, this day. When it's like this, it's not that easy to stay out of the momentum because it becomes muscle-memory-familiar and I simply respond in muscle-memory-familiar ways. Auto pilot. Fire dancing.

I think I need to keep exercising, keep running, keep focused on those things that make me physically strong. But I also need to be more mentally/psychically strong. I do believe I need learn to slow down and quiet the chaos in my head. To meditate.

Goodness knows staying up past 11pm isn't going to help!!! G'night y'all! And thanks for reading.

Short Day

Muscle aches, yawn, cough, ready for a fight, cough again. Probably too much exercise, not enough food, and not enough sleep this week.

Work has been a bit stressful this week. Okay, this month has been extremely hectic. And I have been doing much more than I usually do. I think.

I'm trying to work around a situation at work that isn't really work-aroundable (sorry for making up words but that's how I'm feeling). Actually, it's probably not something I can manipulate to my advantage so I need to figure out how to cope and still get what I need done - so I don't get bitchy and angry like I did today. Not helpful to be that way.

So I started getting some space to figure that out by leaving work early to take a nap - in hopes of relieving the cough, aches, cough. Instead I watched Mad Men. Nonetheless I got some much needed rest.

I keep my fingers crossed that Twig continues his 4 night trend of sleeping in his bed all night long. Candy first thing in the morning is quite the motivator for him I guess. He doesn't quite understand that when I get more sleep that he benefits too, but someday he will. Like when his little person cuddles so close that he can't get a deep enough sleep to be 'a good night's sleep'.

G'night y'all.

Then and Now

The look on your face does not maintain any secrets. You see me.

The expression on your face, the dart of your eyes; Your uncertainty... or is it dislike? Why? No matter, I've already caught on. "You're different! You aren't one of us. Stay away, I don't want you here."

Perhaps my face adequately expresses my thoughts of disdain for the interaction, desire for the not-gotten connection, and intense need for a new experience. Probably not.

It's been said many times before and I believe that it's true.

Neglect

It's been far too long, my blog friends. So sorry.

My cat died. My body disobeys. My family and work command my time.

The cat was 19. She had cancer of the mouth. I should not say she died. I had her put down instead of letting her suffer and then die.

My lungs have been abused and will not revert to their healthier state. We have officially become one of those families that could go broke over not having adequate health insurance and prescription drug benefits. I am going to the gym at least 3 times a week and working on an exercise regimen that will keep me strong. That way if I do get sick, it will be a little easier for me to bounce back from it.

My son turns 5 in a couple of weeks and my husband is working his tushy off to try to get us ahead of the curve. My work is constantly at risk (if only minimally) of being cut or eliminated (that might be a bit over exaggerated) due to the Governor and State budget issues. All of these things point to change for the better.

Tuesday was my late father's birthday. I spent a lot of the day in a funk and finally realized that it would have been his birthday and that I miss him.

Wednesday was therapy day and I learned a lot. This therapist is amazingly good. I've been willing to talk about the possibility that I'm depressed - if not clinically - then by nurturing, and want to get out of my current isolative ways.

Today I'm sick. Neighbors are watching Twig while I rest. Uh, I mean, write (Wood is working till about 1am tonight).

There hasn't been time to sit and write lately. Facebook is a faster way to write but it's 1)mundane at best, 2)a time-suck and 3)I should give it up; focus on writing here instead.

This is boring stuff, I know. But for the moment, it's just practice for writing quickly and getting my message across concisely. Does it work?

Eulogy for a Cat

How We Met – in the spring of 1991
A burly bo-hunk jock acquaintance (he actually was a right-wing Christian missionary assigned to the College to lure young girls into Church with his good looks so as to save their souls) told me of some friends of his that were in quite a predicament – they had this kitten – and because of it had been given an ultimatum. They had been told that the choice was theirs to make; it was either the cat or the apartment. Their response and plan was quite simple. The kitten would be sent to the pound. (apartments are much harder to come by than cats after all).

He had probably pegged me as a Crazy Cat Lady (as well as in need of soul-saving). After all, he had been to my house and knew I already had one cat.

Almost before he had completed his description of his friends’ problems, and with not one ounce of hesitation, I had agreed to take the cat. No, that's wrong - I didn't agree to take the cat, I decided to.

A couple of days later, Jock arranged for me to go to the girls' apartment to pick up the kitten. I would have never been invited to, nor willingly visited these girls or this apartment building under any other circumstance. But, I had been raised with the understanding that pets weren’t something to be ‘thrown away’ when it was inconvenient and accordingly, I was on a mission to do right by this cat. It wasn’t her fault that she had been adopted by people with limited foresight.

I cautiously walked into the apartment and see a sweet and rather demure cat sitting on one of the dining room chairs. I thought "poor kitty," asked her name, swooped her up into the cat carrier, and ran her home to Mr. K (my feral Grey Tuxedo Cat) as quickly as I could.

How We Lived
Mr. K and I had lived together alone for about a year when Maggie arrived on the scene. She made herself at home in no time, and within a few minutes of arriving in my apartment, had found herself a padded dining room chair and planted herself there as if there had been no real change in scenery. That evening, Mr. K and I were all cuddled up in the dark having a little snuggle fest, relaxing, and getting’ close to a full set of ‘ZZZ’s when all of a sudden out of nowhere that beast pounced on us – scaring the b’jeezus out of us. All three of us jumped about 3 feet off of the bed, pillows and comforter flying all over the place. Mr. K was gone – into the closet or under the bed – who knew where…or for how long… Oh, I was mad – and I let her know about my feelings too - it would take hours, maybe days for my feral friend to relax enough to show his face anywhere near me… or her. From that night forward, there was a battle for sleeping rights. You know who won. She would simply take what she wanted.

If you ever visited me, you met Maggie. Whether you were a cat person or not, upon your entrance to my home, she would introduce herself to you. And she did so very loudly. She was a talker like none other.

If you were an adult, she would find her way to your lap and scream until you gave her some love. And you would give your love. Because that’s what she wanted. If you liked cats, you'd give her a succession of firm pats on her haunches and while you did it she'd scream "mooorrrre, mooorrreee". Even after you had stopped. If you walked away, she’d follow, telling you what she wanted – over and over and over again. She was insatiable.

If you were a kid, she'd hiss at you. With ears pressed to her cheeks and her eyes almost closed, she’d try with all her might to remain invisible. But try as she may, it was not possible for her. She knew what she liked and what she didn’t like. She swatted at my 6 month old niece who was sleeping peacefully in her wicker bassinet on the living room floor. And even after being told that Maggie was a mean, nasty thing that didn't like kids and would scratch, Wood's niece touched Maggie on the paw (or some other equally non threatening part of her body) with her index finger, and in her unadulterated Maggie fashion slapped that girl upside her head – and left claw holes in her temple! She was not afraid to speak her mind and she would never retreat.

Because I lived mostly in apartments that didn't allow pets, Maggie and Mr. K were indoor cats. At first, the justification was property management companies and fear of getting caught. As time went on I was afraid of busy streets and things beyond my control (like the Radiator Fluid that had killed Miss Kitty a year earlier). Mr. K was afraid of his own shadow – he’d have died of fear had he been forced to be an outdoor cat (and I tried). Maggie would have transitioned well into being an outdoor cat but I kept her inside. It was wrong to do that. She made the best of it.

Maggie would play catch with any ball that was being bounced – sailing through the room, catching it in mid air and then flattening it – tennis balls, small basketballs, hand soccer balls twice her size. She would run from anywhere to hunt and eat when I said “Maggie, Spiiiiiddddeeeerrrrrr”. Once she stood up on her back legs, caught a fly between her paws, and then chowed-down (Obama was good but not that good). A Ping Pong Ball in the bathtub was one of her favorite games (that and beat the feral-frady-cat to a pulp or holler at your captors at the top of your lungs until they go insane). She drank only fresh water out of a coffee cup on the ledge of the bathtub. And at 10 years old she learned to use the toilet instead of a litter box. She pushed limits. She was fearless.

About two years ago, I gave in to her desires to be an outdoor cat. She’d been missing the litter box for years but when I found cat pee on Twig's bed … again … I kicked her out. You. Are. Now. An. Outdoor. Cat. She was resilient.

Even at 17, that old hag had the entire neighborhood of ghetto kitties under control. She managed for the most part to keep them off of her porch, out of her food and in respect of her. Only once did she get chased by (the crazy neighbor lady's) dog, or show up with a scratch on her nose. She was fierce.

But time, and time living outside, took its toll. She lost weight, struggled to walk on cold days, and was clearly confused on others. Her fur was matted, dirty, stinky and full of fleas. If it weren’t for the all-too-familiar-howl that was her meow, I probably wouldn’t have recognized her on some occasions. In her old age she liked children - she'd be smack dab in the middle of whatever mix took place in our court – talking everyone up and getting whatever love Twig and the other neighborhood kids would give along the way. She always got what she needed.

She came with the name and for some inexplicable reason it never seemed right to change it. She was also known as: Mistress, Mistress Maggie, YOU BITCH!, Mama, Sweet Mama, Sweet Maggie, Mama's Girl, The Beast, Miss Maggie Mae, Mags, Mag Pie, Old Lady, and Maggit. She was a piece of work.

Maggie was a monumental pain in the ass and one of my closest companions for almost half of my life. We were together almost twice as long as my husband and I have been and 4 times longer than my son has been around. We've lived together in 8 apartments, in 5 cities; witnessed countless marriages, births, deaths, losses and loves. Over a period of 18 years.

In The End
We gave her simple luxuries for the last years of her life: wet food (aka: kitty crack), pillows to sleep on, kitty hotels when we traveled, pets and less firm pats on her haunches – just to make her holler in delight every now and again. She was consistent.

She had become noticeably uncomfortable from what the doctor guessed was either rotting teeth or cancer of the mouth – untreatable on either account for a cat that was “at 19, she was at the end of her life-cycle”. She wasn’t looking good.

On Friday July 3rd, 2009, I let her in the house for a little bit of cat nip, drinks of water from a coffee cup on the edge of the tub, and a nap in the sun in the Boy's room. She couldn’t comfortably eat the nip, was noticeably afraid of every move the kid made, and huddled under the bed with a nasty look on her face. She was frail.

We cuddled for a while in the examination room. She nuzzled her face in my arm and rested her chin on her paws like she would do whenever I sat at the computer writing. But even though she purred her tail swatted me every now and again. This was not the girl I was used to. She was suffering.

I stayed with her until the very last moment of her life. After 18 years, that obnoxious, loud, dog like old-lady of a flea monger, simply because of time, proximity, and really soft fur, burrowed so deep into my heart and soul, that upon her death, I felt as if I’d died too. She was loved.

Movin' on up

Normally I get strength from the knowledge that I have moved forward and made significant progress in my life. Mostly my past keeps me moving forward, propels me even. Sometimes, though, it catches me, holds me tight, and wills me to give in to it; to be mired by the notion that somehow not embracing it is to deny my Self.

What Are You Doing Now?

I'm off duty for a while this afternoon. Wood was at an all day training so he's outside with Twig and the neighborhood kids being the adult supervision as they ride bikes and act like the kids that they are.

I'm simultaneously drinking a glass of red wine, simmering Beef Shank for "Like French Onion Soup", browning tofu for tonight's dinner of Tassajara Tofu Cabbage Grill fooling around on the computer [by the way, are you on facebook yet? please send me a friend request if you know my non-pen name].

My Asthma is bad lately; new medications are working for short bursts of time and it's kinda got me down. I hate to take drugs and right now I'm taking many of them and several times a day.

We went to the tax man last week and learned that all of the working our asses off to get money in the bank was good - only in that we aren't in the red come April 15th, 2009. We made a fair amount of money last year and because we have little in reserves it feels as if we are living hand to mouth - paycheck to paycheck. And it kinda freaks me out a bit. I'll manage. We'll manage. Even though we're like 90% of the rest of the United States, we've both got our jobs and we've all got health insurance. And I've planted a garden. We're resourceful people and we can do anything we set our minds to.

Which reminds me. I haven't recently told you of my weight loss expedition. I've been at it since way back in August when I realized, out of sheer necessity, on a shopping excursion, that my bra size was a 34DDD. Yes, folks that is a TRIPLE D. READ: Thank you Nordstrom Lingerie Department for simply revealing the fact that I have really freaking big boobs. Now, you may say that it's not a big deal. Lots of people have big boobs. Hey now; I am not a tall woman - in sheer inches - a 34DDD was stretching it a bit. After all, I haven't been breastfeeding for more than 2 years.

A couple of serious self-talk conversations later and I's at a WeightWatchers meeting. Okay, I really got some support from Wood too and now...

I've lost nearly 20 lbs. But as of this afternoon, only one D.

I'm on a mission to lose 15 or so more lbs and two D's. Stay tuned.

Chicken Payback

Fun, fun, fun!

Alter Ego Found in a Google Search...

"Wonelle became, like so many other vigilantes before her, an overzealous defender of peace and justice. Her sense of just ice compels her to take bounties only on those who fit her definition of evil, but her Hippocratic Programming prevents her from lethally damaging her quarries."

April suggested in a recent post that you type in “[your name] looks like” (among other things) in a Google search and see what you get. Wonelle isn't as common as say April in the name category and most of my search results came back with my Conversations blog posts. But the one above was kinda cool. Especially because it's supposedly a fictional gaming character with special character abilities. And I don't do gaming. At all.

More Random Things About Me

While cleaning out the 'drafts' folder of my email-box yesterday, I ran across this random things list that I wrote - some time ago - in response to a post on someone else's blog, I think. Even though I posted another "Random Things About Me" post recently, I decided to add this one as well because it was rather interesting to see how similar the two were. And how different they are too. Maybe people that know me already know these things. Or, maybe I'm more #11 than I'd like to admit to myself....

1. I'm addicted to reading It's Friday...
2. It took me a very long to remember some things that happened in the year 1989. But once I did, I remembered that it was a turning point year for me.
   
3. I reflect a lot, suffer despite it, and more often than not, focus on the negative stuff.
4. I've tackled a few nasty demons in my lifetime.
5. I don't think I'm negative by nature, I think those demons sometimes get the best of me. Despite them I laugh, love and enjoy life.
6. I have lot's of my own philosophies and I'll share them with you if you want. Like this one: you can ask me any question you want however, I reserve the right to not answer it. Oh yeah, I'll share my philosophies with you even if you don't want.
7. People will often describe me as Sassy. Or Difficult or Bitchy or intense, or something equally negative. I agree to being all of those things and more - they're some of my better qualities.
8. I always tell the Truth. Even if it stings. Sometimes even when it's not in my best interest to do so.
9. I've been learning to hold my tongue. Even if it hurts. Especially if it's in someone else's best interest for me to do so.
10. Some people often annoy me to no end. I'm sure the feeling is mutual.
11. Yea, there are moments that I'm full of myself.
12. For many years I had a bumper sticker on my car that said "the more people I meet, the more I like my cat".
13. Sometimes I'm lonely.
14. The best thing I ever did was talk myself into a low-paying part-time receptionist job at a start-up new-media school.
15. I met this really cool guy there. Actually, I met more than one cool guy there - but I met the most important cool guy of my life because I worked there.
16. The next best thing I did was make a killer bare handed catch and throw as catcher to throw the runner out first base. That's when my Boyfriend knew he'd be my Husband. It was glorious on both accounts.
17. To date, the day my Husband and I got married was the single best day of my life.
18. My Husband revels in my sassiness and I revel in him because of it.
19. From the time I was really young, I wanted to be married and have 4 Boys.
20. Just before I found out that I was pregnant, I thought seriously that my Husband and I could be happy without kids.
    
21. I was relieved (actually, elated) when the Ultrasound Technician said the baby was a boy.
22. For me, being a Mom isn't and hasn't been all it's cracked up to be.
23. My mom was, but wasn't, a Fabulous Mom. She was a wreck. Still is.
24. I was severely depressed for the first two years of my son's life. Not so much anymore.
25. Breastfeeding was horrible.
26. My kid is one of the best people I've ever met. Not because he came from me, either. I could tell when I was pregnant he was something special (and probably going to be a drummer).
    
27. I want to be a Fabulous Mom. No... I want my son to think of me as a Fabulous Mom.
28. Catty girls (or women), cliques, and the like don't do it for me. Play straight and fair or prepare to be told about yourself.
29. I'll avoid a fight whenever possible. Except when I can't. After those fights, I'll try to make sense of the senselessness.
30. Some days, I miss being lonely. And being able to go to the gym whenever I want, and to take a shower alone, and read books all day and all night long, and do art, and have sex with reckless abandon like I once did.
31. My favorite move of all time is the Black and White version of Elephant Man.
    
32. Growing up my initials were MR. The kids teased me and said I was Mentally Retarded.
    
33. The better part of my career has been working with people considered to be Mentally Retarded. I'm not special or patient for working with "those" people, thank-you-very-much. Please don't say that - I think it's just plain rude.
34. Once, when I was hungry, I decided to try Sushi. I figured, "I've never tried Japanese food before". Sushi is my favorite food on the face of the earth! Well, so far. I'll try just about anything once. Food is good.
35. The Sushi Chef that fed me Japanese food for the first time walked me down the aisle.
    
36. I love a good adventure.
    

Tuckered...

I'm not angry anymore. It's interesting what a bit of time can do. Well, time and a good temper-tantrum.

Wood has agreed to give up a bit of responsibility in one thing in order to take on some more in another. Apparently I will not even notice the other (newest) obligation as meetings will take place during the workday.

Fine. Really; in my heart of hearts I know he wants to partake in additional activities that will improve his professional standing. And in all honesty, I want to support that. It's just hard to adjust to the changes.

What is a real struggle lately is the rage - yes, an unadulterated and fierce rage - emanating from our most adorable 4.5 year old. We aren't sure exactly where it comes from but when it does, it's complete with running, throwing, hitting, kicking, spitting, and biting. It's generally directed at me. It's generally something that lasts longer than I have energy for. And it's an emotional roller coaster.

My reproductive dreams aren't recurring lately. They are quelled by my husband's seeming unwillingness to discuss the subject of a 'numero dos' and the anger of Twig; the fear that we don't have what it takes to manage him as it is, and the wonder that surfaces sometimes after our super-duper intense start-and-stop-on-a-dime battles with him: will the bi-polar disorder my father had be present in the life of my offspring?

At the same time I feel stronger than I've felt in a while. My asthma which has been terribly out of control for months now seems to be responding to new medication. My husband seems to be in sync with his feelings of wanting to move on from his current employer - and willing to act on those feelings. I've been working out a few times a week - even lost 17 lbs (only about 17 more to go) - and my back pain seems to be a bit less intense.

But I'm beat. More literally than otherwise. I wonder if tomorrow there will be bruises on my face or simply remnants of my bruised ego. I'm gonna sleep on it and get back to you later.

Delayed Reaction: Furious

I'm furious.

Exactly which part of "Don't you DARE [take on another elected position/work responsibility]!" do you think didn't get through?

Every last freaking bit of it.

It took me almost a full day to become one with it. But man am I pissed.

He said he called to tell them he couldn't do it. But she already put his name on the ballot. Asked him to run anyway and if he won to resign. She was worried that they would run unopposed if he didn't.

What was he supposed to do? That was his question of me. And I didn't even get mad when he said it. I knew in my heart of hearts that he wanted to do it.

Clearly she saw him coming a mile away: New, young guy that probably wants to go places. I can rope him in...

She did just that. Their slate ran un-freaking-opposed. He was a god-damned shoe in.

Worst part of it all: my husband does not resign.

So I'm seeing red: again, family comes second. Or at least that's how it seems. And again, home comes last.

Now, even if we wanted to, we don't have the time to take a vacation. Finish the 'Man Room', socialize, or anything else that doesn't resemble work.

Whoever that b*tch is that manipulated my husband into doing this - I swear I'll beat her ass when I meet her.

Oh, he's gonna get it, too. Don't you worry.

25 Random Things About Me...

I've never participated in a Meme, until now. When it came my way, I almost didn't do it. It felt weird at first. But then as I considered it more, it began to become interesting...to think about what random things 1) other people might find interesting and 2) that I'd really like to share about myself on the internet. It got my mind working and my fingers typing, writing something that isn't work related. It was kinda fun.

Since I finished, I've been thinking that the idea writing of "25 random things about me" could be modified (thanks to a couple of friends) to write 25 things about a particular person, point in time, or subject - to really remember something important - and then use it as a starting off point for a story. Yeah. A story.

Please feel free to write your own 25 things and share. That would be interesting, too.

1. I found myself when I found myself in Fresno.

2. I'm a "glass half-empty" kinda gal. It's not really my nature to be that way. It's really the way of my nurture.

3. I met my dad at a Walgreen's Coffee Shop in a shopping Mall when I was 11 years old.

4. In 1985 I was the only - and probably the first ever - girl to take wood shop in my high school. The instructor "Dick" (No, really), had to re-think his response to kids asking to go to the bathroom when it came to me. He realized that he couldn't tell me to put a rubber band on it.

5. In high school also I drove a $300 puke orange 1971 Ford Pinto (yes, the kind that exploded if rear-ended), partook in a few less than desirable activities, dated a guy 5 years older than me, and worked in a toy shop as a gift wrapper.

6. My step-dad would never stop to let me go to the bathroom when we were on family road-trips. No matter how much I cried, begged, and pleaded. He'd say "at the next exit" and every time, he'd pass it by. I thought he was being a mean, horrible, and awful person. Then I grew up and began to understand what it must have been like to be an interracial couple in the 70's.

7. It felt good to be on television spouting liberalism while at the same time serving country club folk who underwrote, in the form of automatic 18% gratuities, my non-work time activities. Yes it did.

8. Boys are better than girls. Mostly. There are a few exceptions.

9. I share my birthday with George Carlin, Burt Bacharac, Florence Nightingale, Katharine Hepburn, and one of my best friends - Bridget.

10. My BEFRI talked me into attending community college. She convinced me that the toy-shop gig wasn't going to take me where I wanted to go. Despite the fact that I had no idea where the hell that was...

11. Growing up, the library was my sanctuary. I love telling my son: "we can find out more about that - I'm sure there's a book at the library."

12. Can you imagine, playing the flute (2nd chair), smoking cigarettes, and being asthmatic...concurrently?

13. I like rules, boundaries, and structure. Except when it doesn't suit me. And it used to not suit me most of the time. I'm a little older and wiser now.

14. This meme thing has been a great way to practice remembering.

15. I blog in relative anonymity. I want to write my story and have it read in relative celebrity. I'd love to get comments from readers more often (although, I adore the ones I get from a couple of regular readers!).

16. I'm the oldest of 6; 3 are siblings by marriage and 2 by blood. But technically, I'm an only child.

17. Being called a "disobedient wench" was one of the best compliments I've ever received.

18. I once saw a tarot reader who said I'd be very lucky throughout my life. Past, present, future - she was right on.

19. The best day of my life was the day I married Wood. I make a conscious decision to be married every waking moment of every day. Because we can make 'this' be anything we want it to be. That's the benefit of having few good role models. You know what you don't want to do.

20. I'm competitive. Mostly with myself. I often strive to be a type B+ personality.

21. I want to travel the world. Anywhere - everywhere...

22. I have a dream of living in NY, NY.

23. Pregnancy, labor, delivery, and breastfeeding were the most difficult things I've ever done with my body.

24. Whenever considering names for a child it is important to test not only the way the full name sounds in the fit of a parent's anger, but also in the fit of a lover's passion. They grow up and do grown up things after all.

25. You can ask me anything you want to. And while I'll very likely answer any questions with complete and utter honesty, I always reserve the right to refuse to answer. Just in case.

26. I'm not good at following rules. I'll probably keep adding to this list. Maybe someday it'll be 100 random things about me...

Thanks for reading.

More Dreams

Had the dream again the other night. Except this time I wasn't strong and ready to give birth.

I was busy helping a friend work toward getting a new job, moving toward a place where she would be able to get what she wanted in her life. Coaching, supporting, guiding toward a new and necessary place. So that we could find our way on to writing a new, exciting, happier chapter in our relationship.

But the pregnant part was, well, more like my real life experience was with Twig. Not so strong, not so womanly, not so sure about this whole being a mommy thing. The labor wasn't entirely right and my support system, was irrelevant. My bow-tie wearing OB wasn't around. I was alone in a dark and lonely place. Unsure of what I was undertaking and completely on my own to do it.

It was downright Scary. Just like real life can be.

And that's pretty much a metaphor for my life right now. Wood wants a new gig. I want another baby. He's willing to talk about it. I'm scared of being alone in my desire and if he's also interested, incapable of getting what I want because of my health, psychological state, age, or any other intangible and unpredictable reason. I ain't no spring chicken any more. I have considered that "middle age" number looming large in a few months could be spurring this on a little bit.

But the truth is that it's not a logical desire. It's biological. Mostly. I've been watching way too much Learning Channel TV, I guess. These people and other middle-america folk like 'em make me a little uncomfortable. On the one hand they've helped me remember that I've always wanted a large family! (four boys was what I always told my mom) On the other, that I believe that we, the left-leaning-tree-hugging-birkenstock-wearing-critical thinking-granola-ites that we are should have more kids! YES, really, we should. Frankly, I think it's rather irresponsible not to have more than one kid. Or worse yet, only a cat or a dog. Especially when they and many of their friends are having small villages all by their little lonesomes. They're growing an army of conservative voters.

Our friends' pets, treated better than some children of this world (nevertheless love 'em to death), can't vote!

You heard me correctly. My desire to have another little rug-rat that will simply complicate my life in oh-so-many ways I can't begin to fathom, is not only physical. It's Political.

But that's all of the words I have on the subject for right now. It's not too well argued. I apologize for that.

Memories

They said I'd never forget. Well, I haven't. I'm sure I never will.

Yet, there's this recurring dream that wakes me up every few weeks. I had it again last night.

I'm pregnant. Feeling the baby move. Big belly, glowing, strong, healthy, ready to give birth.

We decided a long time ago - as a couple - that we didn't want to do the new-parent thing again. Really, we talked about all of the pros and cons and financial considerations and decided quite rationally that it's something we don't want to do.

But this dream keeps waking me up. And it's not just a night-time dream. I think. So when it woke me this morning, I told Wood about it.

"So is that what you want, to be pregnant?

"I don't think so. I mean, when I think rationally about all of the things that being pregnant means, it's pretty easy to talk myself out of it. But, at the same time, I want a different experience. But that's not rational, and even though I don't understand it completely, you don't want to do it again.

"So, you're saying that you want to have another kid but you've not talked to me about it because I said don't want to do it?

"Well, yeah, you don't want to. Besides, do you enjoy being a parent?

"Yeah! I do. But I don't know about managing everything - I don't do well with all of the pressure.

My sister and I talked today. Turns out that last night she had a dream that I was pregnant.

Weird.

I decided a few weeks ago that I want to write my story. Wood laughed and said he was sure it was a fleeting thought. That I was high on the success of my friend that has recently had her first book published.

At first it was going to be "15-20, for life". It would be about those formative years spent trying have an adult relationship and failing miserably, only to find those experiences as the impetus for a completely different life. I've been thinking about it (pen name or real? in secrecy or public? to friends or family? How much of *my* truth to write? what about the blank spaces, how do I fill those in? Memoir? Novel? Story? Happy ending? I started another blog page but haven't posted yet.). I'm still trying to get past the laughter that emanated from he who is my life partner now, to find the thesis statement - my voice - for 15-20 for life. But it's not 15-20 for life. It's much more than that.

I can't quite get the total story yet. I think it starts somewhere in an oh-so-safe-suburban home where an 8 year old girl writes about her life and frustrations with complete and utter honesty in her notebook only get an ass-whoopin' that haunts her ability to write to this day. "So, you think suburbia's safe, huh?"

I'm trying to give birth. To something brave, strong, healthy and true. It's a story. And maybe a baby too.

No resolutions but maybe revelations...

As my boy sleeps, and my husband works, I clean the house. Cleaning and organizing the bathroom, medicine closet, toy chest, desk - is the time when I collect and organize my thoughts.

I've been off work for the past 10 days. My "vacation" is spent at home with Twig because his school is on Winter Holiday and the Holiday Season is the busiest time of year at Wood's work.

Only one of our play dates worked out due to the illnesses of other kids, and my list of things to do: build corner bookshelves for Twig's room. When I mentioned it to Wood he said "You, and power tools?" So I asked a friend of ours who's been remodeling his entire kitchen to help me. His response was "Sure. But why doesn't Wood do it?" We met and did most of the work on Tuesday.

Twig was a bit of a handful Thursday and Friday. Turns out his power surge was the precursor to being sick with a cough and stuffy nose. By Sunday he had an elevated temperature, the day before I'm supposed to go back to work.

I planned to go to my Weight Watchers meeting and the Gym on Saturday morning. As I was preparing to leave, Wood said "Don't go. I'll miss you." I had an amazing 4.2 lb. weight loss, ran into the wife of a friend who I'd like to spend more time with, and had a fantastic workout - 45 minutes of cardio and a bunch of stretching.

Saturday night I hung out with a couple of friends. Wood was melancholy as soon as I began to get ready for my departure - by putting Twig to bed.

It feels good taking care of myself.

When we discussed the fact that Twig would not go to school on Monday, it was almost without hesitation that I was to be the one staying home. I sort of set it up that way - offered to stay home on Monday because I have to work on Tuesday. Wood certainly did not argue. If anything, he kept quiet.

This morning I asked if there was any way he'd be able to come home early so I could go to work for a couple of hours. After all, I have been off and nearly 100% responsible for parenting for the past 10 days. Yes, it was my fault that I was on again today - I should have expected him to stay home. But, I guess in a typical female sort of way, I wanted him to step up to the plate and say "No, no. You've been home for the last 10 days. You need to go to work, I'll stay home." But he didn't. And he probably never will.

I think he's depressed, unhappy and lonely. Disinterested in being a parent. And he's so much more emotional and sensitive than I'd ever imagined.

He isn't talking about it - with me or anyone. Instead he drinks a couple of drinks a day, has been asking for sex continuously, and is generally nasty to me and Twig. Based upon his recent netflix activity (I'm through with white girls - for this longtime commitment-phobe to settle down, he'll have to drastically change his ways; Romance and Cigarettes - this twist on the not-so-ordinary tale of adultery and salvation; The Big Bad Swim - follows the life-altering journeys of soon-to-be-divorced schoolteacher, stripper, and swim instructor Noah. Held back by their past heartbreaks, the three learn that sometimes the only way to move on is to take a really big plunge.), I'd say something is going on.

God forbid I'm cleaning the bathroom and he sideswipes me.

Power Surge

Why in the world do we take young children to the grocery store? Besides the obvious need to buy food to feed them and keep them alive?

We did have a discussion before we got out of the car about what we were going to buy (soyrizo, tortillas, cheese, tomatoes and fruit). We did let him walk and ride the cart until he nearly knocked it over on top of some poor unsuspecting lady trying to choose sweet potatoes. We did explain that we had to pay for and wash the apple before eating it. But he didn't quit.

We were doing pretty well in the produce section. Even though he was saying, at the top of his lungs, "Mommy, I want cheese... I want a smoothie... I want a sandwich... I want a ripe mango..." all the while bouncing around in the cart like a caged wild animal trying to escape. But by the time we made it to the refrigerated prepackaged salsa section, my requests to "Please sit down and stop grabbing at the food." were falling on deaf ears.

You undoubtedly know how this goes... There are five things on your list. The plan is to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. But the kid starts in, and your spouse is asking questions. There are people to dodge, there are labels to read and choices to make. And somethings gotta give.

In this particular instance, I didn't forget anything on my list. Instead, while looking directly into his eyes I said "Damn it Twig, you need to stop because I'm about ready to knock you up-side your head!" Just then, I looked up to see a complete stranger give me a look of sheer disgust. Her face said it all: "You are an awful-horrible-parent-person-and-I-don't-like-your-tone." Just before I turned around and walked away from the cart and my lack of parenting skill, I'm sure that my face said to her something like "and if you keep looking at me, you're next bitch."

Wood took over right about then. I grabbed salsa, tortilla chips and cheese and we all got in line as quickly as possible.

We should have known better than to take a nap-free 4 year old to the market after riding bikes at the park for nearly an hour and a half. We should have known he was due for a 'power surge'.

Random Things About Wonelle

Unedited so sorry for any redundancies.

1. I found myself when I found myself in Fresno.
2. I'm a "glass half-empty" kinda gal. It's not really my nature to be that way. It's really the way of my nurture.
3. I met my dad at a Walgreen's Coffee Shop in a shopping Mall when I was 11 years old.
4. . In 1985 I was the only - and probably the first ever - girl to take wood shop in my high school. The instructor "Dick" (No, really), had to re-think his response to kids asking to go to the bathroom when it came to me. He realized that he couldn't tell me to put a rubber band on it.
5. In high school also I drove a $300 puke orange 1971 Ford Pinto (yes, the kind that exploded if rear-ended), partook in a few less than desirable activities, dated a guy 5 years older than me, and worked in a toy shop as a gift wrapper.
6. My step-dad would never stop to let me go to the bathroom when we were on family road-trips. No matter how much I cried, begged, and pleaded. He'd say "at the next exit" and every time, he'd pass it by. I thought he was being a mean, horrible, and awful person. Then I grew up and began to understand what it must have been like to be an interracial couple in the 70's.
7. It felt good to be on television spouting liberalism while at the same time serving country club folk who underwrote, in the form of automatic 18% gratuities, my non-work time activities. Yes it did.
8. Boys are better than girls. Mostly. There are a few exceptions.
9. I share my birthday with George Carlin, Burt Bacharac, Florence Nightingale, Katharine Hepburn, and one of my best friends - Bridget.
10. My BEFRI talked me into attending community college. She convinced me that the toy-shop gig wasn't going to take me where I wanted to go. Despite the fact that I had no idea where the hell that was...
11. Growing up, the library was my sanctuary. I love telling my son: "we can find out more about that - I'm sure there's a book at the library."
12. Can you imagine, playing the flute (2nd chair), smoking cigarettes, and being asthmatic...concurrently?
13. I like rules, boundaries, and structure. Except when it doesn't suit me. And it used to not suit me most of the time. I'm a little older and wiser now.
14. This meme thing has been a great way to practice remembering.
15. I blog in relative anonymity. I want to write my story and have it read in relative celebrity. I'd love to get comments from readers more often (although, I adore the ones I get from a couple of regular readers!).
16. I'm the oldest of 6; 3 are siblings by marriage and 2 by blood. But technically, I'm an only child.
17. Being called a "disobedient wench" was one of the best compliments I've ever received.
18. I once saw a tarot reader who said I'd be very lucky throughout my life. Past, present, future - she was right on.
19. The best day of my life was the day I married Wood. I make a conscious decision to be married every waking moment of every day. Because we can make 'this' be anything we want it to be. That's the benefit of having few good role models. You know what you don't want to do.
20. I'm competitive. Mostly with myself. I often strive to be a type B+ personality.
21. I want to travel the world. Anywhere - everywhere...
22. I have a dream of living in NY, NY.
23. Pregnancy, labor, delivery, and breastfeeding were the most difficult things I've ever done with my body.
24. Whenever considering names for a child it is important to test not only the way the full name sounds in the fit of a parent's anger, but also in the fit of a lover's passion. They grow up and do grown up things after all.
25. You can ask me anything you want to. And while I'll very likely answer any questions with complete and utter honesty, I always reserve the right to refuse to answer. Just in case.
26. I'm not good at following rules. I'll probably keep adding to this list. Maybe someday it'll be 100 random things about me..
27. I'm addicted to reading It's Friday...
28. It took me a very long to remember some things that happened in the year 1989. But once I did, I remembered that it was a turning point year for me.
29. I reflect a lot, suffer despite it, and more often than not, focus on the negative stuff.
30. I've tackled a few nasty demons in my lifetime.
31. I don't think I'm negative by nature, I think those demons sometimes get the best of me. Despite them I laugh, love and enjoy life.
32. I have lot's of my own philosophies and I'll share them with you if you want. Like this one: you can ask me any question you want however, I reserve the right to not answer it. Oh yeah, I'll share my philosophies with you even if you don't want.
33. People will often describe me as Sassy. Or Difficult or Bitchy or intense, or something equally negative. I agree to being all of those things and more - they're some of my better qualities.
34. I always tell the Truth. Even if it stings. Sometimes even when it's not in my best interest to do so.
35. I've been learning to hold my tongue. Even if it hurts. Especially if it's in someone else's best interest for me to do so.
36. Some people often annoy me to no end. I'm sure the feeling is mutual.
37. Yea, there are moments that I'm full of myself.
38. For many years I had a bumper sticker on my car that said "the more people I meet, the more I like my cat".
39. Sometimes I'm lonely.
40. The best thing I ever did was talk myself into a low-paying part-time receptionist job at a start-up new-media school.
41. I met this really cool guy there. Actually, I met more than one cool guy there - but I met the most important cool guy of my life because I worked there.
42. The next best thing I did was make a killer bare handed catch and throw as catcher to throw the runner out first base. That's when my Boyfriend knew he'd be my Husband. It was glorious on both accounts.
43. To date, the day my Husband and I got married was the single best day of my life.
44. My Husband revels in my sassiness and I revel in him because of it.
45. From the time I was really young, I wanted to be married and have 4 Boys.
46. Just before I found out that I was pregnant, I thought seriously that my Husband and I could be happy without kids.
    
47. I was relieved (actually, elated) when the Ultrasound Technician said the baby was a boy.
48. For me, being a Mom isn't and hasn't been all it's cracked up to be.
49. My mom was, but wasn't, a Fabulous Mom. She was a wreck. Still is.
50. I was severely depressed for the first two years of my son's life. Not so much anymore.
51. Breastfeeding was horrible.
52. My kid is one of the best people I've ever met. Not because he came from me, either. I could tell when I was pregnant he was something special (and probably going to be a drummer).
    
53. I want to be a Fabulous Mom. No... I want my son to think of me as a Fabulous Mom.
54. Catty girls (or women), cliques, and the like don't do it for me. Play straight and fair or prepare to be told about yourself.
55. I'll avoid a fight whenever possible. Except when I can't. After those fights, I'll try to make sense of the senselessness.
56. Some days, I miss being lonely. And being able to go to the gym whenever I want, and to take a shower alone, and read books all day and all night long, and do art, and have sex with reckless abandon like I once did.
57. My favorite move of all time is the Black and White version of Elephant Man.
    
58. Growing up my initials were MR. The kids teased me and said I was Mentally Retarded.
    
59. The better part of my career has been working with people considered to be Mentally Retarded. I'm not special or patient for working with "those" people, thank-you-very-much. Please don't say that - I think it's just plain rude.
60. Once, when I was hungry, I decided to try Sushi. I figured, "I've never tried Japanese food before". Sushi is my favorite food on the face of the earth! Well, so far. I'll try just about anything once. Food is good.
61. The Sushi Chef that fed me Japanese food for the first time walked me down the aisle.
    
62. I love a good adventure.