Sunday, September 27, 2009
I am in a constant state of frenzy.
Yesterday in a rush to put my son down for a nap before I had to frenzy off to pick up the den and frantically shove something muffin-y down my throat, I gave him the wrong bottle of milk. I gave him the one on the bookcase that my husband left there God knows when, hot and starting to curdle, instead of the cold, fresh bottle sitting on the changing table. I didn't realize it until he had gulped down over an ounce of spoiled milk. Great. Thank goodness, no tummy ache.
This past summer has been the worst summer I can remember. Financial problems, death, unemployment, miscarriage, stress, lots of tears, lots of anxiety. We made it through with the faith that fall and winter will bring happiness and relief. So far, so good.
But, the scars left from this Summer of Sam, are the reason, I think, that my nightmares are back.
Now, let me insert this disclaimer before you all delete me off your blogs: I am not a psychopath. I'm just repressed. That's better, right? Anway.
Close friends and family know about my nightmares. I have had brutal nightmares for as long as I can remember. As a child, I had dreams about sharks biting off my legs in the pool, or a two-headed monster slamming my sister and I down on parking lot concrete, or riding my tricycle off the roof of a tall building. I rarely had good dreams. Just nightmares.
As I got older, the dreams became more gruesome. Let me put it this way: my dreams would have put Rob Zombie and Clive Barker to shame.
When I turned twenty-nine, I went to therapy for a year to deal with childhood issues, my parents' divorce, problems I had in my own romantic relationships. I dealt with issues of resentment, repressed anger, insecurity, fear, shame. You know, all those really fun core issues.
Insert soap box here:
I'm proud of facing my demons and going to therapy. More people should. It isn't something to be ashamed of, as some might believe, instead something of which to be proud. Most don't have the guts to face themselves in therapy. Those who do, I say, "Bravo!" And I am glad the negative social ideas about therapy are starting to fade. Anyway. I'll jump down from my slippery, soap box.
To continue. After therapy, my gruesome nightmares stopped.
Yes, five years later, they have returned, although not as frequent. And, instead of being as gruesome and abstract as they used to be, they are now more personal. This week I had one I haven't been able to shake off.
I won't go into the details of the dream, but it dealt with murder. It was the worst nightmare I have ever had because it was so real. I felt every emotion I imagine those left behind might feel.
In the dream, I knew how this person was murdered and couldn't stop thinking about how they must have suffered, how scared they must have been, how desperate to get away. The horror of it replayed over and over and over again in my head. I thought about how we would never do the things together that I wanted to do, how I would never see this person again. I felt sick, angry, I could no longer function in my own life or even move about the house. Most of the dream, I spent bent over, sobbing and screaming.
Eventually, I woke up around 4:30 am. I was crying in my sleep. I curled up into a ball on my bed and sobbed long and loud. I cried harder when I realized it was just a dream and not true. Meanwhile, my husband didn't move. Sound asleep. I wanted to wake him up but realized there wasn't much he could do anyway. It was just another bad dream.
I cried for an hour. I turned on the TV for comfort and eventually fell asleep right before my son woke up. Then, I cried on and off the entire day.
I know the more I deal with this past summer and find peace with everything that transpired, the nightmares will cease and I can once again go back to dreaming about Jon Bon Jovi or flying in and out of castle windows, watching my deceased grandfather, who in the dream is now gay, flying around holding hands with his boyfriend.
Does anyone else have nightmares?
Monday, September 21, 2009
The truth is...and this is like the cardinal sin of parenting, I know, if you want to stay sane and bonded with your spouse...but...we'd rather stay at home with our son.
Please don't yell at me! (I'm crossing my arms up in front of my face and wincing)
When I tell people this, they look like they want to slap some sense into me. "WHAT? YOU'D RATHER STAY AT HOME WITH YOUR KID?" Yes, we would.
Have you ever seen the first episode of The Brady Bunch? The one where Mike and Carol get married and go on their honeymoon? Then they miss their kids so much that they leave the hotel in the middle of the night and go pick up their kids and bring them along on their honeymoon? That's what we are like. We are like Mike and Carol Brady, except I don't have a mullet and Steve isn't gay.
Our version of a date is renting a movie after Max goes to bed. And that has only happened a handful of times, too (like last week, we rented The Soloist, but Steve fell asleep sitting up on the couch, his head fallen forward on his chest, within the first 20 minutes. He blamed it on the potatoes we had for dinner. Yay, date night).
Where am I going with this? I don't know. It's just something I was thinking about because perhaps...just maybe...we could enjoy 3 or 4 hours without our son and go on a date. I think I might be ready.
Hmmmm...it will be harder to convince my husband than me. If he could, he would attach Max to my right hip and his left, sewn and dangling between us...the three of us, walking together in a Red Rover line forever and forever. I hope he doesn't read this post - I don't want to give him any ideas...
How about everyone else? How often do you have date night? And is it hard for you to get away?
Friday, September 18, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
First of all, I want to say a great big thank you to Modern Mom over at How To Survive Life In The Suburbs for giving me the Splash Award! I'm so stoked! I feel very blessed that there are people out there who like to read about baby poop and dog urine. Yippee!! If you haven't visited her blog yet, please do! She is very funny and witty!
Here is the Dish on this award:
The Splash Award is given to alluring, amusing, bewitching, impressive, and inspiring blogs.
When you receive this award, you must:
* Put the logo on your blog/post.
* Nominate & link up to 9 blogs which allure, amuse, bewitch, impress or inspire you.
* Let them know that they have been splashed by commenting on their blog.
* Remember to link to the person from whom you received your Splash Award.
I will have a good lovin' day and give out the Butterfly Award and the Splash Award to some of my favorites!
Next random bit of news...I have a stomach ache and a champagne hangover today because my husband found a job!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay!!! What a relief!! We won't be living in the Wal-Mart parking lot after all!
It is the job he wanted, even though it is quite a bit less money than he was making before and he may have to get a part-time job at nights to make up the financial difference...but, he is okay with that because he sees a future with this company. I want him to be happy and feel challenged and be proud of the job he does and I think he will be all those things with this job. So, we know there will be an income coming in and we can keep our health insurance.
We are so grateful for this opportunity and from the bottom of my heart, I want to say thank you to all my blogging buddies who have given me such encouragement and support during the last couple of months...especially Michelle at Waddlers and Toddlers. She has been a great friend and comfort, as have you all, and thank you for sharing all your own stories with me. And thank you to everyone who gave me such great ideas for being a WAHM. I am going to research all your brainstorms and find something I can take a whack at.
(how are hubby and baby back already? oh no...I hear footsteps...about to get interrupted...it's inevitable...one moment...)
I'm back. Speaking of baby, my son took his shirt off tonight by himself for the first time (it's the little things that excite me)! He was sitting in his highchair after lunch and started taking off his shirt, one sleeve at a time. He got both arms out and pulled it off over his head. I started to tear up. It's silly, I know, but he is getting so big! He took his own shirt off! All by himself! Next thing I know he'll be strippin' down like the hillbilly he is and runnin' around the yard naked (pronounced neck-ed, of course).
Final random thought, or story: As you all know, I babysit my nephew two days a week for 8-hours at a time. He is three years old and is obsessed with his weiner. And his bootie. And talking about pecks, or boobies, or any part of the anatomy, really.
Last week we were playing Wii and if you have played, you know that the Mii's are not anatomically correct. The boys and girls have the same bodies.
So, we are boxing on the Wii, punching away, when all of a sudden he stops. He looks so distraught, so devastated, so upset. He drops his remote and his nunchuck and stares at the TV, frowning. "HEY!", he says. "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WEINER ON THIS GAME!!!!"
Okay, my alone time is up. I'm needed in the baby feeding, changing, and putting to bed departments. Why don't I get paid for this again?
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Irresistible offer, right?
I was hoping some of you might have some work-from-home ideas you would like to share. I know, I know, wouldn't we all like a genius work-from-hom idea, and if you did have one, you'd probably be workin' it yourself. But, hey. It doesn't hurt to ask.
With my husband being unemployed, but hopefully on the downhill slide, skidding toward EMPLOYMENT, I need to earn an income, albeit possibly small, from home. You know, to help out and all...in ways other than my weekend part-time job; washing, folding, hanging and putting away the laundry; dressing, changing, playing with, and feeding our son; mopping and vacuuming; cleaning the bathroom, cleaning the kitchen, dusting, grocery shopping...you know, all that piddley stuff. During those two too-short hours that I get to myself while my son naps, and those few hours after my son goes to bed, I need to be joining the WAHM workforce. Because, frankly, I just don't have enough to do.
I can' t sew, so no homemade purses or winter wear on Etsy for me. Should have paid more attention in those home ec classes. Dangit.
So, any suggestions are greatly appreciated and I am open to anything within legal limits, although I'll let you know if I get desperate. However, that might be a topic for a whole different set of bloggers.
And thank you in advance. Thanks to all of you for reading, commenting, and keeping me sane with this window to the outside world.
And now for my part of the bargain. Even if you don't have any suggestions for me, you can keep reading without guilt. I'm still happy to share my bp tips with you and I would love to hear anything you have to say, whether it be about working from home, baby powder, or why anyone cares about the size of Kim Kardashian's boo-tay.
Tip #1: I don't know about you guys, but I don't get a chance to wash my hair NEAR as much as it needs it. Showers are golden around here and hard to come by. Somehow, hair washing gets forgotten like pedicures and make-up.
I have blond hair...well, okay, it's not really naturally blond...it's highlighted...but don't tell anybody. And sometimes it looks, well, not so blond because of a little, teensy, weensy, tiny thing called grease. Yes, I said it. Sometimes my hair is GREASY!!
Step in baby powder. Sprinkle a little on the roots, rub it around or brush it around with one of those forgotten make-up brushes, and voila. Fresh, clean hair. It works until I can get a moment to myself to use soap. This probably won't work if you have dk. brown or black hair...it might just look like you fell into a ashy fireplace. But it works great for gray, white, blond, dirty blond, and light brown hair.
I hope those of you with dark hair don't feel cheated.
If so, this next tip is for all hair types.
Tip #2: My mother taught me this, so it's gotta be good. Every tip your mother gives you is golden, right?
Those of you who have read my previous posts know that I have an ant problem in my kitchen. Ugh. I have tried many ways to off them, but those little cockroach wanna-be's eventually return everytime. My husband calls me a homicidal temptress because of all my insect genocide schemes.
However, finally, a solution that involves no post-homicidal guilt or dangerous chemicals on my countertops.
If you can find the point of entry for the Anthill Marching Band, then sprinkle the baby powder there and it keeps them from coming in. I'm no expert or anything, but I suppose it has something to do with their tiny legs not being able to walk through the powder. All I know is that it works. At least temporarily.
Our ants were sneaking in through the corner of the window sill above our sink. So, in between the glass and the screen, we poured little mounds of baby powder. Voila. Bye, bye ants. They were absent for two whole weeks until we left an ice cream container lid in the sink overnight, which proved to be a great motivator for those little bastages and we found several in the sink by morning. Those tiny ninjas must have built tiny catapults and launched their way over the powdered mounds. And I understand. I'd do just about anything for ice cream, too.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
What a sad day it is in America when the President is no longer respected and trusted to give a speech to our youth. How sad that some children weren't allowed to hear President Obama's speech, some didn't get the chance to be inspired by his words, encouraged by his story, his past. Shame on those naysayers. Shame, shame, shame.
I watched the speech this morning and I still don't see the problem with it. He encouraged kids to stay in school, try hard in their classes, reminded them that they won't be great at everything and that is okay, not every subject will be their best, not every teacher their favorite. And despite hardship at home, despite obstacles they must overcome, these aren't excuses to not try in school, to start fights, or argue with teachers. He told them that they will never know where their talents lie if they don't write that English paper or do that science experiment.
And his words were so true. I never would have known that I enjoyed English and grammar if I hadn't done my homework, written hundreds of papers, and worked with my teachers. I never would have known that science really isn't my thing, but math is a challenge I love to tackle if I hadn't taken those dreaded Chemistry labs or worked my way through Finite Math.
I wonder if the naysayers were disappointed that he didn't try to convert our youth to socialism or encourage our children to grow up to be left-wing liberals. Maybe next time.
A viewer of the speech in another country sent an email into the news. This person said that the people of their country respect and trust their Prime Minister and even if they don't agree with his politics, they would trust him to speak to their youth.
My sentiments exactly. I thought President Bush was wrong most of the time, not all of the time, but most of the time, and I still would not have denied my kids the right to hear him speak. A President's speech is an historical event. I wouldn't deny my children a piece of history. No one should.
That might have been more like my ten cents.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Here are the rules for the Over the Top Award:
USE ONLY ONE WORD! It’s not as easy as you might think. Copy and change the answers to suit you and pass it on. It’s really hard to use only one-word answers.
1. Where is your cell phone? Questionable...
2. Your hair? Wet
3. Your mother? Friend
4. Your father? Intelligent
5. Your favorite food? Hummus
6. Your dream last night? Long
7. Your favorite drink? Champagne
8. Your dream/goal? Stablility
9. What room are you in? Junk
10. Your hobby? Blogging
11. Your fear? Unmentionable
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Fulfilled
13. Where were you last night? Home.
14. Something that you aren’t? Risky
15. Muffins? Glutenless
16. Wish list item? Employment
17. Where did you grow up? Arkansas
18. Last thing you did? Pray
19. What are you wearing? Jammies
20. Your TV? News
21. Your pets? Smelly
22. Friends? Supportive
23. Your life? Changing
24. Your mood? Quiet
25. Missing someone? Sister
26. Vehicle? Dirty
27. Something you’re not wearing? Bra
28. Your favorite store? Free
29. Your favorite color? Yellow
30. When was the last time you laughed? Today
31. Last time you cried? Today
32. Your best friend? Amazing
33. One place that I go to over and over? Future
34. One person who emails me regularly? Mom
35. Favorite place to eat? Mom's
Now I would like to bestow this award upon five lovely other blogs that I enjoy reading so very much...they help me get through the day and sleep well at night. Thanks again to Twenty Something Momma!
Waddlers and Toddlers
Peeling an Orange with a Screwdriver
Life Not Wasted or Lost
I hope you guys have as much fun with it as I did! And everyone have a wonderful holiday, or as my husband says, when you are unemployed, a holiday is just another day, so we're going to pretend like we're off work and party like it's 1999. Or maybe we'll just sit around all day watching TV. That's more likely.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Comb and razor in hand!