17 posts tagged “life”

So I passed a turning point this week. 

Tuesday night.  I was weeping after taking Eldest Son to his orthodontist appointment (which is a whole 'nother story).  Had nothing to do with E.S., for a change; had to do with *the other thing*.  (Where the orthodontist is located, I had to make a certain drive, which I hadn't done since *That Bad Day,* and it brought out all kinds of self-flagellating thoughts.)

Gosh I'm constantly bursting into tears these last few months; and I'm so darned sick of myself!

Piece of advice that I can't remember where I read (just letting you know I didn't make it up):  "Don't waste tears on something that's not going to cry over you."

Do I honestly believe that *those people* are even still thinking about me?  Why should I give them that power over my life, that months after the fact they can still make me cry?

No, by God, it's time to reclaim my life!  It's time to reclaim my town!  My school!

MINE.

It was MY school, MY town, MY life, long before *they* came into it, and I'll be damned if I let them ruin it for me!

Nope.  Not gonna let it happen.  At least, not any more. 

They say living well is the best revenge.  And baby, I'm gonna. 

My life, my way, on my terms, for my family.  MY definition of "living well."  Gonna live well MY way and I won't have any regrets.

So, HAH.

Dear Husband caught me at it, after I got home with the kids, and thus spake he:  "It wasn't meant to be.  It wasn't in God's plan.  Frankly, I don't know how we'd have survived the past few months, all these meetings at school, Dr. K, and so on, if you had still been working there.  Anyway, this work-at-home thing could take off and be way more lucrative in the long run.  And until then, it's definitely more flexible."

Ah, my voice of reason!  Frankly, *I* don't know how *I* would have survived these past few months, without him around to keep me sane. 

But, for some reason, this time when he said it -- I believed it. 

(*cue up "Eye of the Tiger*)

PS, I AM going to take up Tae Kwon Do along with the kids!  At least, I'm gonna take 3 free lessons, like they did.

If my life were a movie, this is the point in the script where the protag gets the Symbolic Cutting of the Hair, plus montage of other Life-Makeover scenelets, set to music. 

It's true I do need to get my hair cut, & colored, but what I did today was, bought blue nail polish at Meijer's and painted all my fingers & toes.

Heh.

A writer can do that.

My midnight-blue fingertips can scamper over the keyboard, while my midnight-blue toes snuggle up inside my fuzzy slippers, and life is good.

On the internet no one knows what color your fingernails are.    

Note to world:  I'm BA-A-ACK!

:-)

10 Things I'm Grateful For Today:

1.  Dear Husband

2.  Roof over our head and food to eat (okay, 2 things in 1 -- so what??)

3.  Sunshine (wan though it may be -- it's still better than gray gloom)

4.  Girl Scout Cookies

5.  My little Girl Scout, Precious Princess

6.  Eldest Son

7.  Littlest Brother

8.  That our virus this week hasn't gone into secondary infections for any of us

9.  School science fair (was this week for Eldest Son)

10.  Local Public Library

So, sometimes you just have to list the things you're grateful for.  You just do. 

Lately I've become addicted to Amazon's Mechanical Turk.  Even though you can't exactly make a living on the earnings, still, it provides an easily accessible way to feel like you're accomplishing something. 

You can track my state of mind by the state of my countertops.  When I'm feeling confident and capable, I keep them cleaned off.  When I feel defeated and empty, stuff piles up. 

You can also tell by the food I prepare.  When I'm feeling confident and capable, I fix meals of more than one ingredient that don't come from the freezer or a box (even if the kids DON'T like it!).  When I feel defeated and empty, well, can we say, Kraft Mac'n'Cheese?  Or maybe frozen pizza?

Well, of course, correlation does not equal causation; perhaps both phenomena are caused by the same underlying factor, as yet unidentified.  Or perhaps I've got the signs, and therefore the causation, exactly backwards. 

There's something to that. 

But, it's easier to go to Mechanical Turk and just label some pictures, than it is to clean off the countertops. 

(And the simple fact is, I do not get anything like the feelings of accomplishment I crave, from doing anything relating to housework.  I have tremendous respect for those who DO, and who do a good job of it, because I know how hard it IS; but the fact is, for me personally, even when I do accomplish it, I just don't get the emotional bang out of it.)

It comes back to the matter of emotional energy, like I said last summer. 

If I have enough emotional energy, I can brush off the kids' dislike of food that *I* want to try.  If I'm feeling empty already, that's one conflict I just don't feel like fighting.

If I have enough emotional energy, I can wage war against the clutter.  If I'm feeling empty already, I look at a pile of miscellaneous papers and think, "Oh what's the bloody USE???  There'll be another blasted pile there tomorrow!  Why not save steps and just leave it be???"

So.  Today I'm grateful for the 10 things I listed above.  Maybe if I think about them enough, I'll refill my empty emotional buckets. 

Then I can tackle the counters.

So I've got 3 pieces "out there" now, so we'll see.

I've got another one that I think is close.

I've finished reverse-engineering my favorite author's latest novel -- just to learn how the master did it.  From that exercise I've boiled down an outline or template of novel-writing.  (Well, it worked for her...)

Now I'm going to take a couple of my bigger pieces (that seemed to want to balloon out well beyond the 5000-word limit of most short stories, and try as I might, I couldn't stuff them back in) and try to map them onto this template.  And then see if I can't develop a working outline and then crank out a real novel or two.  Or three.  Or four. 

And moreover, I've had a few encouraging conversations over the past few days from people who want to try and hire me, one way or another (either as direct staff or as contract employee thru my marketing communications firm).  And in the end nothing may come of those efforts, but just having those conversations brightened my life considerably. 

And Eldest Son made a very responsible choice the other day, for which I was quite proud of him.  He's not supposed to chew anything hard and crunchy or soft and sticky, lest he break his appliance (rapid palatal expander).  So when the barber offered him his choice of Tootsie-Pops... HE TURNED IT DOWN.  He actually chose not to get a Tootsie-Pop, in order to live up to a rule.  Wowza! 

So.  Stuff's okay, today.

Cheers.

Things are getting normal around here again.

(Thanks, you guys...)

Writing:

I submitted one short piece last week, I'm submitting another one today, and I think I can get another one ready before the weekend is out.  And I've got three more that I really want to finish and I think have a lot of potential.  I feel ready to move into longer pieces -- novellas and novelettes.  10 - 20K, or 30 - 50K.  And I've got three or four of those I want to bang out, too.

Home:

I've begun to get my house more organized.  The piles are off the dining table and counters (AGAIN), I've cleaned up Precious Princess's room so that you can actually close the closet doors and see the floor, and I've restored one laundry basket to its intended purpose (from stashing place for piles of miscellany).  Friday:  Tackling Eldest Son's bedroom.  (This will be a bigger challenge.)

Kids:

I've gotten my child to at least try his medication, at least until we see the doctor again and he can talk to her about it.  (Lengthy conversations around our house that go something like:  "I don't like how it makes me feel."  "How's that, honey?"  "It makes me feel happier."  "And why don't you want to be happier?"  "Dunno, I just DON'T!"  "Why do you think it's the medication?  Maybe you just had a good day."  "Because I've never felt this happy before!"  "But why don't you want to be happy?  I really want you to be happy -- for your sake."  "I just DON'T!") 

Work:

I've gotten two websites up and running, one for me as an author, one for me as a marketing / communications consultant.  I've registered my company name with the county.  I need to take more active steps to drum up business, but, per Dear Husband's support, I don't feel pressured to do so yet.  (Though if anybody NEEDS some marketing advice or business writing, let me know, 'kay?)

Marriage:

This Friday will be our 16th wedding anniversary!  Yipes.  If our marriage were a kid, it could drive.  Which reminds me, I need to see if I can't find a baby-sitter and make some dinner reservations.

Weight Loss:

Ohhh, shucks.  Back to my bad old ways.  Which reminds me, I need to jump on that treadmill, right now.

Bye.

Y'see, the thing is, here's the thing.

I'm just so inspired by all these talented young people and all their starry-eyed visions of their future triumphs (and, believe it or not, there is absolutely NO sarcasm intended in the foregoing phrase), that this morning, while driving in to work, I was smote with a vision for a business I want to start. 

In all seriousness.

Why not?  I already have the degree they are aspiring to, and if they can do it, I can do it.

(Where did I lose that belief that I myself was a world-beater? -- Oh yeah, see previous post on attending 20th high-school reunion...)

Now, where to find the time???

Hm.

Hm, hm, hm.

That's the limiting factor, innit?

The concept is one that would benefit artisans and craftspeople from local Native American tribes, and other local artisans, and eventually, branch out into fair-trade overtures to artisans in the developing world... probably Latin America first... maybe by partnering with microfinance organizations...  and there could even be an educational and cultural-awareness-building aspect to it...

Hm.

Time, time time.

Rock star at my daughter's kindergarten, or start a new business that would open up markets to help struggling artisans to help themselves...?

Hm.

(or keep chasing my dream of being a writer...)

Choices.

Opportunity cost of time.

And my brother and his wife have an adorable baby girl.  Plus they have a great new house (new-built, which has its own tribulations), and an adorable little dust-mop dog.

I've found my dog breed.  I can hardly believe I'm saying this, I always thought I was a big-dog person, but little Sonic made a great impression on me, and Dear Husband too.  Even Eldest Son would like this dog.  He's just a little snuggle-muffin, a little bundle of affection.  Utterly non-threatening, AND (this is key) non-annoying.  I did not hear a single yip all weekend, and that included the times when people (such as myself) tripped over him.

The breed:  (drum roll, please)

Shih Tzu

Ta-da!

The only downside I could see was the need to get the dog regular hair-cuts.  Well, you win some, you lose some.

***

First weekend away without the kids, ever. 

(believe that???)

Oh, yeah, we've had the odd overnight at Grandma's, but even then, we didn't leave town.  And TWO nights in a row, and we went so far as to FLY to a moderately distant city.

Wow, that totally ROCKED!!!

We'll have to do that more often. 

The kids were all kinds of weird all last week, leading up to it, and it's been a bit of a rocky transition home this afternoon/evening, but on the whole, I'm not sorry we did it. 

I think this week things will smoothen out again.

***

What is this world coming to??

In the airport security line, the TSA was frisking a little old lady in a wheelchair with her arm in a sling. 

Because you never know when a terrorist might disguise himself as a helpless little old lady who can't even walk all the way to the gate under her own steam.  Or, you never know when the terrorists are going to start activating those sleeper cells they planted in assisted living facilities all over the nation.  It only LOOKS like a knitting circle, but in reality, the old ladies are passing secret messages using Morse code made up of knits & purls in place of dots and dashes.  (Don't believe me?  See:  Madame Defarge.)

Look out, world, here comes Ninja Granny!  Watch out, she's going to leap out of that wheelchair and pull some numchuks out of her sling!!

It's completely insane.

America is shuffling along in its stocking feet, trying to look Innocent.  America has all its little toiletries in a clear plastic ziploc for all the world to see ("Hm...  Preparation H... Very Interesting...").  America is turning on its laptop to prove it doesn't contain a cleverly concealed bomb.  America is watching the patting-down of little old ladies in wheelchairs.

Isn't there a better way?

There's got to be a better way.

***

ANNND...  Back into the fray tomorrow!

***

Oh, PS -- Grandma and Pap-pap took them all to the circus yesterday!  And by "all," I mean, not just my three, but also their two cousins.  (Yipes!)  And, everyone was a Perfect Angel.  Yeah!  Rock ON, Grandma! 

Grandma sprang for seats in Row 6, which meant they couldn't get any souvenirs and very few refreshments (Grandma's wonderfully self-disciplined in the expenditures & budgeting sense) (two things of popcorn cost $15!!), but she was glad she did, because being so close helped hold their attention & keep them from getting naughty.  She explained this to them at the outset (the part about how she wouldn't be getting them any souvenirs, so don't ask), and they all took it wonderfully to heart, neglecting to whine and pester.  Wow.  Good on-ya, Grandma!

So, all was well.

Cheers! 

BTW, just so you know there IS karmic balance in the universe, I got a traffic ticket the other day, for which Dear Husband still hasn't forgiven me.  (It happened the day after he opened the credit card statement where my Coldwater Creek splurge had landed...)

And the bummer of it was, I wasn't even in a hurry!  I wasn't even TRYING to speed!  Believe me, I know when I'm in a hurry and this wasn't it.  Just... lost track of my speed and it was in the middle of the day so there wasn't any other traffic around to provide camouflage.  Duh!  (Also probably if I hadn't gassed it to sail thru that yellow light before it turned red, the traffic cop might've looked the other way...)

And I'm still wracking my brain as to WHERE he was hiding!  Every time I drive past the spot I look around and try to figure out where his hunting blind was, and still can't. 

D'Oh!

It has been a busy week; life goes on.  (Funny how that happens, but it does.)

Our kids have all had a great week at school.

Eldest Son came skipping off the bus Thursday afternoon, proclaiming with glee, "Second Grade is WAY better than First!"  He seems to find the math more interesting, and just claims that they "do more of the subjects I'm interested in."  Everybody else is complaining about how much harder Second Grade is; he likes it better.  Go figure.

Precious Princess adores kindergarten and has found a friend on the bus, who was also in her gymnastics class over the summer.

Littlest Brother has done fine going to his preschool twice a week, and for most of the day, not half-days any more.

We've found a great caregiver and she has come for the past two days while I was home, for a good transition.  The kids seem to like her a lot already.  (We'll see how next week goes when she has them all by herself...)

Additionally, Eldest Son and Precious Princess have begun their dance classes -- to Dear Husband's groaning over the cost of dancing shoes, etc.  And they love these classes, and they're SO CUTE!!!

Eldest Son has got natural rhythm and he just loves dancing, on his own.  Being that he is who he is, he at first resisted the idea of taking dancing LESSONS, since he "just wants to do it my own way."  Also, I think he had a sense (already) that it was "for girls."  But then I found him an all-boys hip-hop class and managed to sell him on that.  The very first day, he discovered that another student in that class was a boy he knew from preschool and the kindergarten bus!  Yay!  So not only is dancing done by boys, but there was even a boy he already knew.  So then he watched the other students in other classes for a bit and really seemed taken with the tap classes, and had so much fun in the hip-hop class, that he agreed to sign up for tap, too.  (More shoes; more $$ down drain...)

And he really, really likes it.  He's not disruptive in class, he gives a good try at whatever the teacher tells him, and he enjoys it and feels he is good at it. 

Team sports are SO not his thing. 

Soccer?  Uh, no. 

Baseball?  Nuh-uh. 

Track, maybe, that's more about individual effort (or it can be) but he's not old enough yet. 

But, here with the dance, he's got a physical outlet that he enjoys, so, yay.

So.  Back into the fray!

The church was packed.  Family, friends, neighbors, teachers, classmates, Cub Scouts, you name it. 

This was a boy, and a family, that people know.  Knew.  That people are glad to know; to have known. 

One uncle's comments in celebration of Luke's life included these words:  "It was a freak accident; it was nobody's fault.  I bear no anger toward anybody about this."  And you could tell he meant it. 

Here's what the mom and dad had to say, in today's local paper.

http://www.salinereporter.com/stories/090408/loc_20080904001.shtml

And she means it too.  She's just that kind of person.  She truly, truly wants people to pray for and forgive the man who killed her son. 

Because it WAS a freak accident.

High noon, not a cloud in the sky, no drugs or alcohol involved, a 40-year-old man, father of a 7-year-old boy of his own, plowed into the back of their stopped minivan.  At high speed.  Until today I was racking my brain trying to understand how on earth this could have happened.  He was a local; it's not like he couldn't have known that was a 4-way stop.  Why wasn't he at least slowing down as he apprached the intersection? 

Here's how.  I heard about it this evening.

He had just given blood, and was feeling lightheaded, and stepped on the gas instead of the brake, approaching that 4-way stop. 

Here was a man trying to do the right thing, giving blood; and he killed a boy.  A boy his own son's age. 

Can you imagine what he is going through right now? 

So seriously.  Pray for him, forgive him, cover him with love, too. 

And the parents. 

Early Sunday morning, their beloved son was taken off the ventilator, and wheeled into an operating room, where doctors did everything they could...  to make sure OTHER children would live.  They donated their child's organs. 

The dad was reported to have said, in making this decision, "I'm not sure this is what I want to do... but it's what Luke would have wanted to have done.  He would have wanted to know that other children could live, even if he couldn't." 

Who knows why?  Who knows why?

The web of our lives is woven together more intricately than we can know.

But that's love.  That's love.  To take your own family's tragedy, and answer the prayers of other families whom you will never meet.  To offer prayers and care to the man who killed your child.  That's IT; that's what it's all about.

That's love.

Go hug your children.  Kiss your spouse.  Smile at a stranger on the street.

Love one another. 

The fact is, I only have so much emotional energy.

It takes emotional energy to continue trying to improve my writing, to continue to seek publication in the face of repeated rejection.  To say, "No, they're wrong," even though "they" are the experts and power-holders who could grant me entry into that world I so long to join, the realm of published authors; "No, they're wrong, and I'm just going to find someone else who is right," meaning, of course, some other pub that will give my work public play. 

It takes emotional energy to deal with my temperamental genius son, who states with a straight face (and I can only believe him, the evidence supports it), "I like fighting and arguing, it's fun."  It takes a great deal of emotional energy and creativity to find ways to motivate this stubborn mule, this freakishly annoying child, to adopt behaviors that will help him avoid making enemies everywhere he goes, especially when what works on him one week loses its effectiveness the following week.  It takes vast reservoirs of emotional energy to feel the eyes of shop workers and other parents boring into my back and know they are thinking, "Get control of your kid," or "What a brat!" or "If my child ever acted that way, I'd do something about it," and say, "No, they're wrong, I AM a good mother, I'm doing the best I can and it could be a lot worse, and some of the things you wish I would try I HAVE tried and they only make him dig in his heels harder."

It takes emotional energy to send out resume after resume, to call back and wiggle my toe in the door, to attend interviews, to sell myself and my skills (when salesmanship has never been one of my strengths), and then to get the form letter rejection or no answer at all which must be interpreted as rejection after a certain length of time has passed; and to say, "No, they're wrong, they're missing out on a dedicated and talented employee and it's their loss.  No, they're wrong and if they can't see that, then I wouldn't want to work for them anyway.  And I'm just going to find someone else who is right," meaning, of course, someone who WILL hire me. 

It takes a great deal of emotional energy to meet all the world's NOs time after time after time, with a great big fat NO of my own:  "NO, YOU'RE WRONG.  You're wrong about me, my skills, my creations, my child -- you're ALL WRONG and I will PROVE I'm right!" 

And after shouting all of THESE NOs back at the world, I find I am out of the emotional energy that would be necessary to say, "No, I'm not going to eat that; no, I'm not hungry and even if I were, hunger is a good thing right now." 

This summer, ever since about April, has been filled with all kinds of NO; and it has not been a good summer for my weight-loss goals. Not only am I not moving forward, I'm backsliding.  All I can do right now is damage control, on the weight-loss front. 

But I have a great need right now to feel like a success at SOMETHING; so maybe if I can just scrape up enough emotional energy to get back on that weight-loss wagon--that thing which is wholly under my own control, and does not depend in the slightest degree on the efforts or responses or judgments of others--then success there would help me refill my emotional reservoir enough to help with the other things, too.

So on that note, I am going to turn off my computer, go on a long walk that will end up at the local Rec Center, and then swim laps until I can't move my arms anymore.