When I was a kid, it rained on Halloween. Every year. I don't ever remember a dry, pleasant Halloween.
Since Brynna has graced the Earth with her presence, I don't think it's ever rained on Halloween. And tonight it's not going to either. We've weathered the storm and come out on the other side and we are ready to roll.
In the 30 degree weather. Because despite the fact that we will be rain free, this will be the first non-pleasant trick-or-treating weather. She'll be decked out in her costume - along with leggings, a jacket, gloves and possibly, earwarmers. Maren will likewise be warmed with multiple layers and as many warmies as I can conjur.
And, I have to admit it, I'm dreading tonight. I'm dreading the cold weather. I'm dreading the massive hike. Last year, I had to carry Maren for part of it when she gave out and I'm dreading that possibility. The Ex is going to tag along and I'm dreading that.
I'm dreading everything but the candy. And the cuteness. They are gonna be so stinkin' cute.
Think of me tonight. Think of me fondly. I'll be here with the photographic evidence tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
And then there was a Hurricane
Just to be clear, Kentucky, where I am, is not, nor has it ever been, on a coast of any kind. I am clear on the fact that I am lucky. My house isn't underwater, I've never evacuated (although I once spent a week in my mom's house because the power was out), and most importantly, I've never weathered a hurricane.
My theory is that when you make a decision about where you are going to live, you are basically playing a game of Choose Your Own Natural Disaster. (Like Choose Your Own Adventure, but less reading, less fun, more death and higher home owners' insurance.) I chose a little bit of everything, and nothing big of anything.
We get tornadoes, but they are wittle bitty cutesy ones compared to the monsters that whip up over the open plains. We get earthquakes, and then debate for three days about whether or not that was really an earthquake we felt that morning. We get snow, but not lake effect snow, blizzard conditions, or generally, anything that sticks around more than 48 hours. Ice storms are our major schtick and even those get worse other places. And we get what I like to call, hurricane fallout. We don't get hurricanes, because, as I mentioned, we're not on a coast. We do get high winds, torrential rain, occasional flooding, snow and other crap. Up from the gulf or West from the Coast, either way.
And again, I know how lucky I am. I am thinking about all the people further East who have bigger issues than I do. Scary, life threatening issues. Get the pants out of your house issues. I get it.
So, knowing that, please allow me to bitch for a moment.
Last night, after I got home from working late and picking up the kids and doing all that jazz, we tumbled into the house and all piled into my big red chair to watch some TV. Every once in a while there was horrible high pitched wailing sound. After ruling out ghosts, zombies, banshees and wraiths, I decided that a window must be ajar. So, I began my rounds. I triple checked each window in the house. All closed, all locked and none with a noticeable draft.
Finally, I got sick of listening to the kids fight (which is increasingly how I determine bedtime) and slapped those puppies in their beds. Walking back to the living room, I heard a knock. At my back door, which no one ever uses, especially at night, because the light over there doesn't work.
After ruling out serial killer, axe murderer, vampire and evil hitchhiker, I walked out on the deck. Where I discovered that my gutter was trying very hard to lie down on the ground and take a little nappy-poo. The screaming noise was apparently metal trying to wrench itself free of my house and the knocking was what happens when it partially succeeds and starts banging against the house.
About five hours later, the gutter finally fell enough to quit it's knocking. I've never been so grateful for a monstrous crash in my back yard.
Someday, I wanna sleep.
Also, my prayers are with those of you praying that a fallen gutter is the worst of your problems.
My theory is that when you make a decision about where you are going to live, you are basically playing a game of Choose Your Own Natural Disaster. (Like Choose Your Own Adventure, but less reading, less fun, more death and higher home owners' insurance.) I chose a little bit of everything, and nothing big of anything.
We get tornadoes, but they are wittle bitty cutesy ones compared to the monsters that whip up over the open plains. We get earthquakes, and then debate for three days about whether or not that was really an earthquake we felt that morning. We get snow, but not lake effect snow, blizzard conditions, or generally, anything that sticks around more than 48 hours. Ice storms are our major schtick and even those get worse other places. And we get what I like to call, hurricane fallout. We don't get hurricanes, because, as I mentioned, we're not on a coast. We do get high winds, torrential rain, occasional flooding, snow and other crap. Up from the gulf or West from the Coast, either way.
And again, I know how lucky I am. I am thinking about all the people further East who have bigger issues than I do. Scary, life threatening issues. Get the pants out of your house issues. I get it.
So, knowing that, please allow me to bitch for a moment.
Last night, after I got home from working late and picking up the kids and doing all that jazz, we tumbled into the house and all piled into my big red chair to watch some TV. Every once in a while there was horrible high pitched wailing sound. After ruling out ghosts, zombies, banshees and wraiths, I decided that a window must be ajar. So, I began my rounds. I triple checked each window in the house. All closed, all locked and none with a noticeable draft.
Finally, I got sick of listening to the kids fight (which is increasingly how I determine bedtime) and slapped those puppies in their beds. Walking back to the living room, I heard a knock. At my back door, which no one ever uses, especially at night, because the light over there doesn't work.
After ruling out serial killer, axe murderer, vampire and evil hitchhiker, I walked out on the deck. Where I discovered that my gutter was trying very hard to lie down on the ground and take a little nappy-poo. The screaming noise was apparently metal trying to wrench itself free of my house and the knocking was what happens when it partially succeeds and starts banging against the house.
About five hours later, the gutter finally fell enough to quit it's knocking. I've never been so grateful for a monstrous crash in my back yard.
Someday, I wanna sleep.
Also, my prayers are with those of you praying that a fallen gutter is the worst of your problems.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
A Song that I Know All the Words to
I'm going to attempt to do this memey thing called 30 Days of Song. I will not post this every day, because oh-my-pants-I'm-bored-already. Instead I'll post once or twice a week, as I feel like. So there. I am unrepentantly stealing this from Jen O. at My Tornado Alley. She rocks. I'm not sure if she stole it from somewhere, but here we go.
A Song that I Know All the Words to
I have a thing about knowing all the words. So, there are a lot of songs I can sing without any help at all. The most impressive, though, is probably "It's the End of the World as We Know It."
I grew up listening to country music. When I started school, a lot of kids listened to pop music, so I was exposed to that as well. I never liked it. Tiffany and Debbie Gibson, New Kids on the Block and Madonna. It all just lacked resonance for me. I never seemed to feel the music.
When I started high school, a friend of mine, in the form of cassette tapes and a boombox in her bedroom floor, introduced me to alternative music. I didn't even know what that meant, but I knew that I had found my place laying on her beige carpet and listening to Green by REM and Flood by They Might be Giants. I loved it and it sang to my soul. I went on to listen to every flannel wearing, blue haired, nose pierced "alternative" musician I could find. And I never looked back.
What I did do, though, was use a copied cassette of "It's the End of the World as We Know It," and a tiny tape recorder on my bed and painstakingly write down every word of the song, through hours and hours of rewinding and fast forwarding. I can still sing it from beginning to end.
Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 - A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To (today)
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year
A Song that I Know All the Words to
I have a thing about knowing all the words. So, there are a lot of songs I can sing without any help at all. The most impressive, though, is probably "It's the End of the World as We Know It."
I grew up listening to country music. When I started school, a lot of kids listened to pop music, so I was exposed to that as well. I never liked it. Tiffany and Debbie Gibson, New Kids on the Block and Madonna. It all just lacked resonance for me. I never seemed to feel the music.
When I started high school, a friend of mine, in the form of cassette tapes and a boombox in her bedroom floor, introduced me to alternative music. I didn't even know what that meant, but I knew that I had found my place laying on her beige carpet and listening to Green by REM and Flood by They Might be Giants. I loved it and it sang to my soul. I went on to listen to every flannel wearing, blue haired, nose pierced "alternative" musician I could find. And I never looked back.
What I did do, though, was use a copied cassette of "It's the End of the World as We Know It," and a tiny tape recorder on my bed and painstakingly write down every word of the song, through hours and hours of rewinding and fast forwarding. I can still sing it from beginning to end.
Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 - A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To (today)
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Down and Down
The Bloggess* says "Depression Lies." I can tell you pretty emphatically that this is true. Depression tells you that you're not good enough. You're not pretty enough. You're not fierce enough.
It tells you that you will never succeed. You'll never get that book written or get your house clean.
It tells you that you'll feel better if you just sit there. You'll feel better if you stay in. It'll be okay if you just don't move or breathe or think or be anything.
The worst thing about it is that Depression talks in your own voice. It sounds like you. And it feels like you and you think it's you. You start to believe the lies because they seem like they are coming from you.
I've wanted to write about my depression on here for a few months, but I haven't. Because this voice in my head told me that no one wants to hear about it. The voice told me that it's not like I'm that bad off. I've never wanted to kill myself. I've never been less than functional. I've never struggled to live. I've never self-harmed or been in any danger. Blogging about depression, Depression said, is for people who are really hurting. Not me. I'm fine.
That's the lie that Depression tells me most often. I'm fine. It tells me that it's okay to feel this way, because this is just the way I feel. It's just who I am. It tells me that everyone lives inside their heads like this and there is nothing wrong with it.
Depression, so sayeth The Bloggess, lies.
I've been fighting and aware of my depression for about 18 months. After yet another successful thyroid test, I finally broke down. I told my doctor that I still felt bad, I still felt like crap and I didn't understand why the test said I was better while I felt so much worse.
She gently suggested that maybe I was fighting depression. It made sense. The symptoms matched. And clearly, things were not good. I was trying desperately to hold onto a marriage I already knew was dead. I was taking on more and more at home and at work. And I was feeling more and more like a failure. My days were not easy and my nights were worse.
The thing is, I think my doctor-provided-wake-up call was no where near the beginning. What drove me to the doctor for my thyroid issues (which are really real, but intermittent) was actually symptomatically depression. And before that, I suffered what I optimistically called "baby blues," right after Maren's birth. And maybe that's all it was. Maybe.
But when I think about what this feels like, it's pretty obvious I've felt it before. This is how I felt when I left college. It's how I felt when I came back to a job I suddenly hated after giving birth to Brynna. It's how I felt for about a year after I got married. Ironically, it's not how I felt after Ethan died. Which is probably why I've never been willing to call it depression. Shouldn't depression feel worse than this? Shouldn't it be harder?
And that question... Shouldn't it be harder? That is probably the question that has kept me in it. Because if it isn't harder, then it isn't depression. And if it's not depression, then I can't do anything about it. I'm stuck feeling like this. It's just me and I can't be helped.
Last weekend, at the NonCon, I didn't speak to as many people as I wanted because I had a very difficult time with my anxiety. Anxiety that isn't entirely new, but is so much worse than it used to be. Last weekend was another wake-up call. I'm not all better. I'm not peachy keen. It's not just me. I can be helped.
Depression still lies. And I am really, really tired of being lied to.
*If you don't read The Bloggess, you probably should. But only if you are slightly unhinged. I don't think the completely hinged would get it. Also, only if you don't mind profanity, because she makes me want to be a better cusser.
It tells you that you will never succeed. You'll never get that book written or get your house clean.
It tells you that you'll feel better if you just sit there. You'll feel better if you stay in. It'll be okay if you just don't move or breathe or think or be anything.
The worst thing about it is that Depression talks in your own voice. It sounds like you. And it feels like you and you think it's you. You start to believe the lies because they seem like they are coming from you.
I've wanted to write about my depression on here for a few months, but I haven't. Because this voice in my head told me that no one wants to hear about it. The voice told me that it's not like I'm that bad off. I've never wanted to kill myself. I've never been less than functional. I've never struggled to live. I've never self-harmed or been in any danger. Blogging about depression, Depression said, is for people who are really hurting. Not me. I'm fine.
That's the lie that Depression tells me most often. I'm fine. It tells me that it's okay to feel this way, because this is just the way I feel. It's just who I am. It tells me that everyone lives inside their heads like this and there is nothing wrong with it.
Depression, so sayeth The Bloggess, lies.
I've been fighting and aware of my depression for about 18 months. After yet another successful thyroid test, I finally broke down. I told my doctor that I still felt bad, I still felt like crap and I didn't understand why the test said I was better while I felt so much worse.
She gently suggested that maybe I was fighting depression. It made sense. The symptoms matched. And clearly, things were not good. I was trying desperately to hold onto a marriage I already knew was dead. I was taking on more and more at home and at work. And I was feeling more and more like a failure. My days were not easy and my nights were worse.
The thing is, I think my doctor-provided-wake-up call was no where near the beginning. What drove me to the doctor for my thyroid issues (which are really real, but intermittent) was actually symptomatically depression. And before that, I suffered what I optimistically called "baby blues," right after Maren's birth. And maybe that's all it was. Maybe.
But when I think about what this feels like, it's pretty obvious I've felt it before. This is how I felt when I left college. It's how I felt when I came back to a job I suddenly hated after giving birth to Brynna. It's how I felt for about a year after I got married. Ironically, it's not how I felt after Ethan died. Which is probably why I've never been willing to call it depression. Shouldn't depression feel worse than this? Shouldn't it be harder?
And that question... Shouldn't it be harder? That is probably the question that has kept me in it. Because if it isn't harder, then it isn't depression. And if it's not depression, then I can't do anything about it. I'm stuck feeling like this. It's just me and I can't be helped.
Last weekend, at the NonCon, I didn't speak to as many people as I wanted because I had a very difficult time with my anxiety. Anxiety that isn't entirely new, but is so much worse than it used to be. Last weekend was another wake-up call. I'm not all better. I'm not peachy keen. It's not just me. I can be helped.
Depression still lies. And I am really, really tired of being lied to.
*If you don't read The Bloggess, you probably should. But only if you are slightly unhinged. I don't think the completely hinged would get it. Also, only if you don't mind profanity, because she makes me want to be a better cusser.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Five Things on Friday - You're Sick, Jessi Edition
I've been sick. Since Saturday if I'm going to be honest with myself. But the last two days have been the worst. Today, I am somewhat back in the land of the living, hobbling around and hacking up a lung. In the meantime, I have spent a lot of time laying on my love seat and lamenting the state of my world.
While I was at that, I discovered that there are quite a few things that annoy me when I am ill. Here are some of them.
Five Things that Piss Me Off When I'm Sick
1. Nice weather - This whole week has been fabulous weather-wise. It's crisp and cool, but sunny and bright and the light has shifted in the sky in the way that truly and completely means that summer is over. The trees have changed and everything is absolutely glorious. Fall is my favorite and my best and I have spent what will probably be the best days of the whole season in bed. With a pile of tissues and a remote control. Everyday I walk outside and see my roses going nuts and my mums inexplicably shriveling up. I want to replant the mums and deadhead the roses. I want to mulch my flower beds and paint my porch posts. I want to be outside because this is the only time of year I like being outside. See, it's not that common for me to want to do any of these things. Typically, a yard is an annoyance that has to be mowed in my world. Totally wasted.
2. My eyeballs - The worst thing about being sick is that there are only three things I feel like doing: sleep, read and watch TV. The first is no problem. In fact, I would say that in the last 48 hours, I have slept nearly 30. But when I'm not sleeping, my eyes hurt and I all I want to do is read or watch TV and I can't stand to. Because of my stupid eyeballs. I've never understood the connection, either. Why does a chest cold make my eyes hurt?
3. Afghans - Okay, so as a crocheter, I have a difficult time putting down anything hand-made. Especially afghans. For you non-crocheters: an afghan represents anywhere from 20 to 80 hours of hard-core, repetitive work. Afghans are fun and they are usually pretty easy, but they are not quick. They are also expensive. Really expensive. But when I am sick and cuddled up on the couch, please, take your afghans and shove 'em down your pants. There is nothing worse than having a little toe peeking out of the needlework and not having the energy to rectify the situation. Then, you feel like your toe might freeze off, so you start adjusting, only it won't adjust right and suddenly, you are tied up in a giant afghan knot. Seriously, just give up and get a quilt.
4. The Entire Kitchen - Cooking while sick might be what I spend all my time doing in hell. Either that or navigating the Atlanta airport. But you know, you're sick - you've got to eat. Or drink. Or even just have something to wash the medicine down. Good luck with that. I promise, if I am sick, suddenly there are no clean cups, we are out of butter and jam and the pot I like to make soup in is mysteriously missing.
5. Television - Two words: Talk. Shows. Thank pants for DVR.
What makes you miserable when you're already miserable?
While I was at that, I discovered that there are quite a few things that annoy me when I am ill. Here are some of them.
Five Things that Piss Me Off When I'm Sick
1. Nice weather - This whole week has been fabulous weather-wise. It's crisp and cool, but sunny and bright and the light has shifted in the sky in the way that truly and completely means that summer is over. The trees have changed and everything is absolutely glorious. Fall is my favorite and my best and I have spent what will probably be the best days of the whole season in bed. With a pile of tissues and a remote control. Everyday I walk outside and see my roses going nuts and my mums inexplicably shriveling up. I want to replant the mums and deadhead the roses. I want to mulch my flower beds and paint my porch posts. I want to be outside because this is the only time of year I like being outside. See, it's not that common for me to want to do any of these things. Typically, a yard is an annoyance that has to be mowed in my world. Totally wasted.
 |
| How I hate you, stupid watery, achey, burny eyeball of doom. |
3. Afghans - Okay, so as a crocheter, I have a difficult time putting down anything hand-made. Especially afghans. For you non-crocheters: an afghan represents anywhere from 20 to 80 hours of hard-core, repetitive work. Afghans are fun and they are usually pretty easy, but they are not quick. They are also expensive. Really expensive. But when I am sick and cuddled up on the couch, please, take your afghans and shove 'em down your pants. There is nothing worse than having a little toe peeking out of the needlework and not having the energy to rectify the situation. Then, you feel like your toe might freeze off, so you start adjusting, only it won't adjust right and suddenly, you are tied up in a giant afghan knot. Seriously, just give up and get a quilt.
4. The Entire Kitchen - Cooking while sick might be what I spend all my time doing in hell. Either that or navigating the Atlanta airport. But you know, you're sick - you've got to eat. Or drink. Or even just have something to wash the medicine down. Good luck with that. I promise, if I am sick, suddenly there are no clean cups, we are out of butter and jam and the pot I like to make soup in is mysteriously missing.
5. Television - Two words: Talk. Shows. Thank pants for DVR.
What makes you miserable when you're already miserable?
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
A Song that Reminds Me of Starry Nights
I'm going to attempt to do this memey thing called 30 Days of Song. I will not post this every day, because oh-my-pants-I'm-bored-already. Instead I'll post once or twice a week, as I feel like. So there. I am unrepentantly stealing this from Jen O. at My Tornado Alley. She rocks. I'm not sure if she stole it from somewhere, but here we go.
A Song that Reminds Me of Starry Nights
Once, a long time ago, before life got too complicated, the Ex and I were dating. We went driving, which was a thing we loved to do. This, you understand, was before gas was a major budgetary line item and driving around was cheap entertainment. We ended up in the middle of nowhere and there was a church. I don't even remember where we were. What I remember was that we got out of the car, laid on the hood and watched the stars. We were so far out of town, there was almost no light pollution and it was a clear, cold night. We could see the Milky Way.
We laid there, not making a move or a sound and watched light from a million years ago that looked like magic. The car radio played softly and the night seemed to hum around us. The possibilities that were in store for us seemed endless. We were young and everything lay before us like those stars.
I've forgotten what played on the radio, but "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" always reminds me of that mystic sky and the cold car hood under my back. When Adam Duritz sings about lying down underneath "that bowl of stars," it all comes back. That feeling that the stars always give you: the one that happens when you marry the science of how things really work with the magic of how you see them.
Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 - A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event (today)
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year
A Song that Reminds Me of Starry Nights
Once, a long time ago, before life got too complicated, the Ex and I were dating. We went driving, which was a thing we loved to do. This, you understand, was before gas was a major budgetary line item and driving around was cheap entertainment. We ended up in the middle of nowhere and there was a church. I don't even remember where we were. What I remember was that we got out of the car, laid on the hood and watched the stars. We were so far out of town, there was almost no light pollution and it was a clear, cold night. We could see the Milky Way.
We laid there, not making a move or a sound and watched light from a million years ago that looked like magic. The car radio played softly and the night seemed to hum around us. The possibilities that were in store for us seemed endless. We were young and everything lay before us like those stars.
I've forgotten what played on the radio, but "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" always reminds me of that mystic sky and the cold car hood under my back. When Adam Duritz sings about lying down underneath "that bowl of stars," it all comes back. That feeling that the stars always give you: the one that happens when you marry the science of how things really work with the magic of how you see them.
Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 - A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event (today)
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year
Monday, October 15, 2012
A List
Today, I am tired. I am, in fact, miserable tired. I am a person who requires sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. I can't just catch a couple of hours here and there and be peachy-keen. No, I need eight solid hours at a time. If I go very long without that, I start to lose things. Like my sanity, my ability to finish sentences, my spelling prowess (Hah! Haha. No really.), and once, my house. No, really.
Over the past few days, the most sleep I got in a solid stretch was last night when I slept five hours. Why did I only sleep five hours last night? I can only assume it was because I haven't been to bed before 2 a.m. since I was seven (or Wednesday - look don't get all literal with me because I'm just not sure I can handle it right now).
So, rather than write paragraphs of witty narrative (oops) I'm going to write a list. Because lists seem easier to handle right now.
Over the past few days, the most sleep I got in a solid stretch was last night when I slept five hours. Why did I only sleep five hours last night? I can only assume it was because I haven't been to bed before 2 a.m. since I was seven (or Wednesday - look don't get all literal with me because I'm just not sure I can handle it right now).
So, rather than write paragraphs of witty narrative (oops) I'm going to write a list. Because lists seem easier to handle right now.
- I owe the library over $50. Because this time, when my kids lost books, they didn't have the decency to lose cheap-o easy reader titles. If I don't find these books soon, I'm going to have to move to a new county. Because I cannot live without library access.
- Partially because I've been using their free music download system and if they lock me out before I manage to download the entire Mumford and Sons repertoire at a pace of three songs a week, I will die. Die. A slow, painful death that lacks mournful, Brit accents.
- I just said Brit up there because I was not sure if I could spell British today. I always want to give it two t's.
- Other words I never spell right: Chief, Vacuum, and Executive. Please don't tell me that executive is basically phonetic and easy to spell. I don't have any idea why I can't spell that word. But it makes typing Chief Executive Officer a pain in the pants.
- On another note, I've had a headache since Saturday at 1 p.m. It waxes and wanes between unbearable and almost gone, but it has never quite gone away. I don't think I've ever had a multi-day headache. I thought it was caffeine withdrawal, so I have had enough caffeine in the last two days to power a steam engine for a month. I don't even know what that means.
- No, I do not think my caffeine consumption has anything to do with my sleep deprivation, why do you ask?
- Shut up.
- Look, I can't put down the Cherry Coke because I have to stay awake long enough to get home.
- Yes, I promise that I'll put it down the minute I walk in the door. And then I'll make pasta for supper and make the girls pick up their toys so I can feel like I improved the house today without actually doing anything. Also, I will not decide that since I can't sleep, I should probably clean off my DVR since I'm down to less than 40% free space, leading to a late night Walking Dead marathon. But last nights episode was amazing. And super-goood. And some other less trite adjective. I should just call it epic and get it over with.
- I just had a conversation with no one. Save me.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Five Things on Friday - Fear Edition
So, as you may have heard, maybe, I'm at Aiming Low NonCon this weekend. This morning DJ Paris was leading a discussion and he said, "Fear is what stops courage." This hit me like lightning on the Empire State Building. Fear cripples me. I was sitting at table terrified to talk. Fear is evil. And you gotta face it.
When people ask what I'm afraid of, I always say mice, which is true. I have an all out phobia of mice. I loathe mice. But it's also disingenuous because it doesn't tell you anything about me as a person. Except that I'm really afraid of mice.
So, in honor of facing my fear, today I present
Five Things that Scare the Pants off of Me
1. Being Alone - Not in the sense that I can't enjoy a night alone in the house, but more in the I'm terrified I'll die alone sense. There is something just really terrifying to me about the prospect of having no one to watch me die. No one to notice if you are gone. Which is ridiculous, because worst case scenario, my cats will notice that I'm not feeding them and decide to eat me instead.
2. Pissing People Off - I live in complete and utter fear of making people mad at me, which is kinda sad since I have very little in the way of internal filter. I walk this really uncomfortable balance beam where on one side I might fall and make someone mad and on the other side, I believe that you stand up or you might as well just sit down. Knowing myself means that I know I'm never going to have a really tough skin, so I'm never really going to get over not wanting people to be mad at me. But I also don't really back down. Here's the rock, there's the hard place. I brought a pillow.
3. Being Rejected - Here's the theory: if I hide out here, in this little corner and don't talk to anyone, then they won't remember me because I'm shy. If I stand out and talk and laugh and get loud and monopolize conversations (as I am wont to do) and they don't like me, then they really just don't like me. I want everyone to like me. Even the people I hate. Because I'm southern, that's why.
4. Silence - I'm sitting right now in this quiet hotel room, and I feel like my ears are going to explode. I sleep with the TV on. I am never comfortable without some sort of dull roar. What am I afraid of? I don't know. Maybe that I'll have to listen to all the crap in my head? Maybe that I won't be able to fill the silence? But I am going to get out my headphones very, very shortly.
5. Also... Mice... and zombies - Look, you ought to be afraid of things that carry diseases and will eat you while you are still alive. If I lived elsewhere, I am fairly positive I'd be afraid of sharks or grizzly bears. That should be a selling point for Kentucky. We'll put that on our tourism info: All you have to fear is mice and zombies. And we're well armed, so mostly just mice.
What are you down deep afraid of? What is the fear that kills your courage?
When people ask what I'm afraid of, I always say mice, which is true. I have an all out phobia of mice. I loathe mice. But it's also disingenuous because it doesn't tell you anything about me as a person. Except that I'm really afraid of mice.
So, in honor of facing my fear, today I present
Five Things that Scare the Pants off of Me
1. Being Alone - Not in the sense that I can't enjoy a night alone in the house, but more in the I'm terrified I'll die alone sense. There is something just really terrifying to me about the prospect of having no one to watch me die. No one to notice if you are gone. Which is ridiculous, because worst case scenario, my cats will notice that I'm not feeding them and decide to eat me instead.
2. Pissing People Off - I live in complete and utter fear of making people mad at me, which is kinda sad since I have very little in the way of internal filter. I walk this really uncomfortable balance beam where on one side I might fall and make someone mad and on the other side, I believe that you stand up or you might as well just sit down. Knowing myself means that I know I'm never going to have a really tough skin, so I'm never really going to get over not wanting people to be mad at me. But I also don't really back down. Here's the rock, there's the hard place. I brought a pillow.
3. Being Rejected - Here's the theory: if I hide out here, in this little corner and don't talk to anyone, then they won't remember me because I'm shy. If I stand out and talk and laugh and get loud and monopolize conversations (as I am wont to do) and they don't like me, then they really just don't like me. I want everyone to like me. Even the people I hate. Because I'm southern, that's why.
4. Silence - I'm sitting right now in this quiet hotel room, and I feel like my ears are going to explode. I sleep with the TV on. I am never comfortable without some sort of dull roar. What am I afraid of? I don't know. Maybe that I'll have to listen to all the crap in my head? Maybe that I won't be able to fill the silence? But I am going to get out my headphones very, very shortly.
5. Also... Mice... and zombies - Look, you ought to be afraid of things that carry diseases and will eat you while you are still alive. If I lived elsewhere, I am fairly positive I'd be afraid of sharks or grizzly bears. That should be a selling point for Kentucky. We'll put that on our tourism info: All you have to fear is mice and zombies. And we're well armed, so mostly just mice.
What are you down deep afraid of? What is the fear that kills your courage?
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Leaving on a Jet Plane
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| I gotz business cards. I must be legit. |
I am sitting in the airport. I haven’t flown in 14 years. I
have to admit that I’m a little nervous. I’m through security, though and that
was the thing about which I was most nervous. There is something terrifying about
getting in line with all these people who clearly know what they are doing and
panicking that maybe I left my keys in my pockets or these earrings that weigh
less than an ounce, but are freakin’ huge might set of the metal detector. (What
set off the detector was the back of my head. I don’t have a plate in my head,
or to my knowledge, any kind of reason to worry about the back of my head, but
there you go.)
My flight doesn’t leave for four hours, so I’m so
super-early it’s not even funny. I just bought a Coke for $2.50 because I needz
my caffeine. Cold and carbonated, please.
I’m here so early because beggars of rides can't be choosers
of rides. Because I am way too cheap to pay for the right of parking my car in
a huge lot where no one will notice if someone blows it into a million pieces.
Of course, I hate my car, so maybe that would have been smarter.
In any case, here I sit, all excited and happy. I’m excited
about flying. I used to really love to fly. Who knows, now. I’m excited about
Atlanta, which is one of my favorite cities I’ve only ever driven through. But
mostly I’m excited about the Aiming Low Non Conference. I’m excited to meet a
lot of folks I read and some that I don’t. I’m excited to see Ree, of the
Pioneer Woman fame, again.
I’m excited to be around people who are like me. Writers.
Bloggers. Geeks. Beta Parents. Whatever. I’m excited to be going and bonding
and wandering aimlessly around Callaway Gardens.
Which reminds me, if you are going too and you see me either
walking with purpose or sitting all alone, know that these are my coping
mechanisms and that I want desperately to talk to you. Whoever you are. If you are less awkward than I am, say the
first thing. I’ll try to be witty and make you glad that you did.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
A Song that Reminds Me of Home
I'm going to attempt to do this memey thing called 30 Days of Song. I will not post this every day, because oh-my-pants-I'm-bored-already. Instead I'll post once or twice a week, as I feel like. So there. I am unrepentantly stealing this from Jen O. at My Tornado Alley. She rocks. I'm not sure if she stole it from somewhere, but here we go.
A Song that Reminds Me of Somewhere
There are some places that are wholey magical. A couple of summers ago, sitting out in my grandparent's side yard, I sighed contentedly. "This is my favorite place in the whole world. When I die, I want my ashes scattered right beside that tree," I said. The Ex was incredulous, "Here?" My grandmother agreed, "With the traffic going by?" But for me, that spot is the spot where all the magic of my childhood occurred.
That's where I played under the old oak tree that eventually grew so big it began to collapse in on itself. It's where I climbed the cherry tree until I got so scared I could barely get back down. It's where I shot basketball, where I walked in after my first date, where I laid in the cool grass and pretended to be dead. Mostly, it's where I lay in the hammock for hours upon hours, reaading. Everything from Gone with the Wind to A Wrinkle in Time. It was my spot. My heaven. My peace and quiet. My world.
Right now, I can see the evening light filtering through the trees and hear the birds singing and calling. I can feel the breeze from the road and smell the fresh, grassy smell of Kentucky. There were so many songs I sang in that yard, so many tunes on my Walkman or, later, my Discman. But the song that always makes me think of that spot comes from the ill-fated year I tried to learn to play guitar. I practiced out on the lawn for hours and hours and by the end of the summer... I could play the intro. That was it. It's not even a very long intro.
Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 - A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere (today)
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year
A Song that Reminds Me of Somewhere
There are some places that are wholey magical. A couple of summers ago, sitting out in my grandparent's side yard, I sighed contentedly. "This is my favorite place in the whole world. When I die, I want my ashes scattered right beside that tree," I said. The Ex was incredulous, "Here?" My grandmother agreed, "With the traffic going by?" But for me, that spot is the spot where all the magic of my childhood occurred.
That's where I played under the old oak tree that eventually grew so big it began to collapse in on itself. It's where I climbed the cherry tree until I got so scared I could barely get back down. It's where I shot basketball, where I walked in after my first date, where I laid in the cool grass and pretended to be dead. Mostly, it's where I lay in the hammock for hours upon hours, reaading. Everything from Gone with the Wind to A Wrinkle in Time. It was my spot. My heaven. My peace and quiet. My world.
Right now, I can see the evening light filtering through the trees and hear the birds singing and calling. I can feel the breeze from the road and smell the fresh, grassy smell of Kentucky. There were so many songs I sang in that yard, so many tunes on my Walkman or, later, my Discman. But the song that always makes me think of that spot comes from the ill-fated year I tried to learn to play guitar. I practiced out on the lawn for hours and hours and by the end of the summer... I could play the intro. That was it. It's not even a very long intro.
Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 - A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere (today)
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Answering the Why's
Before I had kids, I made myself lots of impossible promises. One such promise was that I would take every "why" question seriously. I bought a book of science questions and answers for kids, I read articles and books on history, pop culture and psychology. I thought I was set.
Then, the kids came. And they didn't ask "Why is the sky blue?" (because of the way the atmosphere reflects sunlight), "Why does the sun shine?" (well... the sun is a mass of incandescent gas) or "Why do good people do bad things?" (because people aren't simply good or bad, they are all things, because all people are complicated and messy). Instead they asked why cartoons are cartoony (wtf?) why scientists don't make nutritious ice cream so we can have ice cream for dinner (because they're sort of busy with more important things, I guess) and why do beebles bubble with kerfluggles (you are totally messing with me, right?).
Being a mommy and answering these ridiculous "why's" has lead me to a new why policy. It looks something like this: make it end. If "because God says so," is the shortest way to the end of conversation, so be it. If "because," is the end, great. Whatever works. Whatever will make it end. Because this was not what I signed up for.
The policy extends sometimes to adults, though. As I've been preparing to attend the Aiming Low Non-Con at the END OF THIS WEEK - HOLY PANTS, PEOPLES, most everyone has been excited for me - if slightly confused as to why I think this is going to be so much fun. Just wait for the pictures, guys.
Last night, though, someone asked me why. When I haltingly tried to explain why a blogger would want to go to a blogging conference, she said, "No. I mean why do you blog? Why do you want all those total strangers out there to know all about your life?"
I stumbled around some more and finally said, "I like to write. I want to write and this stuff is fun to write. It's fun to blog and I enjoy doing it. I do what I can to protect my safety and the safety of my kids, but I also don't stress it to any great degree. I just do it because I like to."
And that is true. None of that is any way, shape or form a lie. It is the essence, the one paragraph reason for my blogging habit. But it's also not the whole truth. Because I wanted the conversation to end.
You see, I spend so much of my mental time living in Bloggiland, that the question she asked seemed a little like, "Why do beebles bubble with kerfluggles?" I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Why do people breathe? Why am I me and not someone else? How many roads must a man walk down? I can't compute. 42. I don't know.
I've been thinking about it, though, and here's my short, but still a little more complete answer:
I don't think of you as strangers. I know that this is a huge, open book and that any psycho with an internet connection could be reading this right now. But, any psycho with ears could be following me through the grocery store. Any psycho with a car could be cruising past my house right now. We can't live our lives by the possibility of evil. Evil exists, but it is the minority. What I know is that just like we rely on the communities in which we live to have more good than evil, I rely on the blogging community to have more good than evil.
And I believe that we are a community. I worry about you all when you write something sad or when you disappear for a few days or when you seem to withdraw. I stress over your losses, your illnesses, you job losses. I consider you all my friends. Not just those of you who are reading these words, right now, but all the writers I read and the other commenters that read them.
There is an innate intimacy to words. I share my words with you and you know about me. You know about the things I share, my kids, my dreams, my distress, my struggles. But, even more, you know me through the words I choose and the images those words may conjure. How many people do you know in the "real world" who speak primarily in 500 word monologues? Probably not many, but if they did, you might know them better.
When I sit down to write my next entry, I feel connected by the magic of servers and clouds and mobile networks and wifi to a web of people all over the country. All over the world.
I blog because I like to write, yes. But I also blog because I like people. I like to be a part of something. I like to live in this world and hear from all of you and hope you are listening to me. I don't feel intimidated by the vastness of the internet or scared of the psychos. I feel shored up by those who have come before me and after me and concurrent with me - this great sea of people who want to share, to be a part of something bigger, to wallow in the words. I blog because I want to.
Then, the kids came. And they didn't ask "Why is the sky blue?" (because of the way the atmosphere reflects sunlight), "Why does the sun shine?" (well... the sun is a mass of incandescent gas) or "Why do good people do bad things?" (because people aren't simply good or bad, they are all things, because all people are complicated and messy). Instead they asked why cartoons are cartoony (wtf?) why scientists don't make nutritious ice cream so we can have ice cream for dinner (because they're sort of busy with more important things, I guess) and why do beebles bubble with kerfluggles (you are totally messing with me, right?).
Being a mommy and answering these ridiculous "why's" has lead me to a new why policy. It looks something like this: make it end. If "because God says so," is the shortest way to the end of conversation, so be it. If "because," is the end, great. Whatever works. Whatever will make it end. Because this was not what I signed up for.
The policy extends sometimes to adults, though. As I've been preparing to attend the Aiming Low Non-Con at the END OF THIS WEEK - HOLY PANTS, PEOPLES, most everyone has been excited for me - if slightly confused as to why I think this is going to be so much fun. Just wait for the pictures, guys.
Last night, though, someone asked me why. When I haltingly tried to explain why a blogger would want to go to a blogging conference, she said, "No. I mean why do you blog? Why do you want all those total strangers out there to know all about your life?"
I stumbled around some more and finally said, "I like to write. I want to write and this stuff is fun to write. It's fun to blog and I enjoy doing it. I do what I can to protect my safety and the safety of my kids, but I also don't stress it to any great degree. I just do it because I like to."
And that is true. None of that is any way, shape or form a lie. It is the essence, the one paragraph reason for my blogging habit. But it's also not the whole truth. Because I wanted the conversation to end.
You see, I spend so much of my mental time living in Bloggiland, that the question she asked seemed a little like, "Why do beebles bubble with kerfluggles?" I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Why do people breathe? Why am I me and not someone else? How many roads must a man walk down? I can't compute. 42. I don't know.
I've been thinking about it, though, and here's my short, but still a little more complete answer:
I don't think of you as strangers. I know that this is a huge, open book and that any psycho with an internet connection could be reading this right now. But, any psycho with ears could be following me through the grocery store. Any psycho with a car could be cruising past my house right now. We can't live our lives by the possibility of evil. Evil exists, but it is the minority. What I know is that just like we rely on the communities in which we live to have more good than evil, I rely on the blogging community to have more good than evil.
And I believe that we are a community. I worry about you all when you write something sad or when you disappear for a few days or when you seem to withdraw. I stress over your losses, your illnesses, you job losses. I consider you all my friends. Not just those of you who are reading these words, right now, but all the writers I read and the other commenters that read them.
There is an innate intimacy to words. I share my words with you and you know about me. You know about the things I share, my kids, my dreams, my distress, my struggles. But, even more, you know me through the words I choose and the images those words may conjure. How many people do you know in the "real world" who speak primarily in 500 word monologues? Probably not many, but if they did, you might know them better.
When I sit down to write my next entry, I feel connected by the magic of servers and clouds and mobile networks and wifi to a web of people all over the country. All over the world.
I blog because I like to write, yes. But I also blog because I like people. I like to be a part of something. I like to live in this world and hear from all of you and hope you are listening to me. I don't feel intimidated by the vastness of the internet or scared of the psychos. I feel shored up by those who have come before me and after me and concurrent with me - this great sea of people who want to share, to be a part of something bigger, to wallow in the words. I blog because I want to.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Conversations with an Eight Year Old
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| Belated picture of the birthday princess. |
Brynna: No way! Kronos had SIX kids!?! SIX?!? That is totally crazy.
Me: Okay, so this guy eats his kids who don't die and continue to grow up in his stomach only to be sliced out by a kid that he thought coulda been a rock. And they all sprang out and fought a war and threw him in a big hole with no bottom and you are blown away that he had six kids? That's the crazy part of this story from where you're sittin'?
Brynna: SIX KIDS! That's totally crazy. Can you even imagine having six kids?*
________________________________
Brynna: You know what, Maren. It doesn't even hurt me when you punch me there anymore. You've done it so much it doesn't hurt at all. You're not hurting me.
Maren: Considers this, then, leans over and punches her leg.
Brynna: Oww. Why would you do that?**
________________________________
Maren: And then, I dropped the bowl and got fire and blood on my hands. And I went in and woke up Mommy and told her there was fire and blood on my hands and she said to wash my hands...
Brynna: Wait. I thought Mommy was helping you make the cupcakes.
Maren: She was.
Brynna: Then why did you have to wake her up.
Maren: ... So, I went and washed my hands and got the fire and blood off of them and then I asked if I could sleep in her bed and Mommy said yes, but then she told me to go to my room.
Me: Because you kept kicking me. I have bruises.
Maren: ... So, I went in my room and I cried. And cried. And cried.
Me: Maren, you understand that some of that was a dream? You didn't really have fire and blood on your hands?
Maren: You told me to wash it off.
Me: Yes, because there was nothing there but you were convinced there was.
Maren: Because there was fire and blood.
Me: Okay, but only in your dream.
Maren: Mommy. No. There was fire. And blood.
Brynna: Mom, I think Maren is having a difficult time separating reality from dreams, so you should probably just let this go.
*I'm not sure if this means that I have overemphasized the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Oh well, I don't think I'll regret this when she's fifteen so there's that.
**I don't know, Brynna, why would you tell the person punching you how they could make it hurt more. Seems like you're just as much at fault here.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
A Song that Reminds me of Brynna
I'm going to attempt to do this memey thing called 30 Days of Song. I will not post this every day, because oh-my-pants-I'm-bored-already. Instead I'll post once or twice a week, as I feel like. So there. I am unrepentantly stealing this from Jen O. at My Tornado Alley. She rocks. I'm not sure if she stole it from somewhere, but here we go.
A Song that Reminds Me of Someone
Truth be told, most songs that remind me of someone remind me of crazy exes. I'm not sure why, but there is a whole collection of songs that I hear and automatically I fall back into whatever unhealthy relationship I was in when the song came out. And I could make you guys a list, but that's mostly stuff I don't like to relive.
On the other hand, there's "Friend of the Devil." Not long before Brynna was born, Counting Crows came out with a new greatest hits type album, Songs About Ghosts. And one of the new tracks on the disc was a cover of Grateful Dead's "Friend of the Devil." It wasn't long before that was my often replayed track and I was wearing it out.
When Brynna came along, I tried really hard to sing her lullabies. I'm a big believer in lullabies, but for some reason, they are all really short. I tried singing "Rock a Bye Baby" on a loop, but I'd always get bored and kinda trail off. So, one night when she was only a few days old, at about 3 a.m, I found myself singing "Friend of the Devil." I guess because I knew all the words. It quieted her right down and for years I swore that it was her favorite song.
Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 - A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone (today)
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year
A Song that Reminds Me of Someone
Truth be told, most songs that remind me of someone remind me of crazy exes. I'm not sure why, but there is a whole collection of songs that I hear and automatically I fall back into whatever unhealthy relationship I was in when the song came out. And I could make you guys a list, but that's mostly stuff I don't like to relive.
On the other hand, there's "Friend of the Devil." Not long before Brynna was born, Counting Crows came out with a new greatest hits type album, Songs About Ghosts. And one of the new tracks on the disc was a cover of Grateful Dead's "Friend of the Devil." It wasn't long before that was my often replayed track and I was wearing it out.
When Brynna came along, I tried really hard to sing her lullabies. I'm a big believer in lullabies, but for some reason, they are all really short. I tried singing "Rock a Bye Baby" on a loop, but I'd always get bored and kinda trail off. So, one night when she was only a few days old, at about 3 a.m, I found myself singing "Friend of the Devil." I guess because I knew all the words. It quieted her right down and for years I swore that it was her favorite song.
Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 - A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone (today)
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year
Monday, October 1, 2012
Five Things on Friday - Brynna Edition
I am a bad mother. Last week, I started this and then things got crazy and life got ahead of me and I completely forgot to finish it. You know, I forget to finish blog posts all the time, but not birthday posts for my kids. Those are kinda important. So, here you go. Late and all, but Happy Belated Birthday my Sweet Peazle Pigeon Princess.
You know what happens when your birthday is on a Friday?
You get to stay up late and party like a (G-rated) rock star?
Sure, but also...
You get to eat chocolate donuts for breakfast and take pencils to school to give to all your friends?
Well, yes, but...
You get to wear your brand-spanking new Monster High tee shirt to school and be the envy of the entire third grade?
Uh-huh... And...
I don't know. What?
You get to give up your normally sappy-mommy-loves-you-sooooooo-much birthday post for a funny and cute Five Things Post.
Are you talking about your blog again?
Five Things You Should Know About Brynna
1. I was wrong, she's totally going to be into horror movies - I used to think that Brynna wouldn't love horror movies because she is so easily scared. I forgot entirely that the reason I love horror movies is because they scare the socks off of me. I just happen to like being scared. Sort of like people who jump out of airplanes, only sane. Brynna is very into vampires, ghosts, werewolves and all other manner of monsters. Except zombies. She draws the line at zombies. That's okay. There are plenty of vampire movies to keep us busy until she grows into zombies.
2. She has reading-related ADD - I am one of those people who likes to finish a book before I start another. In fact, at almost any point if I slow down in my reading, it's probably because I'm not enjoying the book I'm reading but I don't wanna quit. Brynna is the opposite. She is currently reading about seven books. Of the seven, she will probably only finish five. Because she has standards, people. Or because she gets bored or can't remember where she left it or doesn't know that word and doesn't feel like getting the dictionary or because she got scared or whatever. The point is that she is going to wallow in this pile of books like Scrooge McDuck in his gold and you are going to get used to it.
3. She smiles terrible on film but amazing in real life - Almost every picture I own of the girl features this stupid, simpering smile. Like she's so above this school photographer nonsense. Even if it's mommy at the camera. But when she real-life smiles - the lights come on. Birds sing. The shutters shake. Unfortunately, no one who doesn't know her personally will ever see this smile. Sorry.
4. She is wicked brave in the face of hole punches - It seems that her mother lied to her about the pain of ear piercing. In my defense, I don't remember it hurting. I remember there being pressure and then a pinch. Quick like. Apparently, when you are eight, it hurts. Long and good with the soreness afterward, too. But, even with her fat pain tears rolling down her face, she never wavered. She wanted these suckers and she was getting them. When I told her about the cleaning and the care and that if she didn't follow the rules they would grow in and she'd have to do it again... Well, let's just say that she hasn't missed a cleaning yet.
5. She is mine and you can't have her - Look, you probably wouldn't want her anyway. She's a kinda drama queen. You should probably stick to your own kids. This one, this beautiful, sweet, funny, sassy, intelligent, wondrous being is mine, all mine. She is my constant reminder that good things happen. that patience pays off, that love will win and that there is more love inside you than you ever dreamed possible.
Mine. Tell me something about yours.
You know what happens when your birthday is on a Friday?
You get to stay up late and party like a (G-rated) rock star?
Sure, but also...
You get to eat chocolate donuts for breakfast and take pencils to school to give to all your friends?
Well, yes, but...
You get to wear your brand-spanking new Monster High tee shirt to school and be the envy of the entire third grade?
Uh-huh... And...
I don't know. What?
You get to give up your normally sappy-mommy-loves-you-sooooooo-much birthday post for a funny and cute Five Things Post.
Are you talking about your blog again?
Five Things You Should Know About Brynna
1. I was wrong, she's totally going to be into horror movies - I used to think that Brynna wouldn't love horror movies because she is so easily scared. I forgot entirely that the reason I love horror movies is because they scare the socks off of me. I just happen to like being scared. Sort of like people who jump out of airplanes, only sane. Brynna is very into vampires, ghosts, werewolves and all other manner of monsters. Except zombies. She draws the line at zombies. That's okay. There are plenty of vampire movies to keep us busy until she grows into zombies.
2. She has reading-related ADD - I am one of those people who likes to finish a book before I start another. In fact, at almost any point if I slow down in my reading, it's probably because I'm not enjoying the book I'm reading but I don't wanna quit. Brynna is the opposite. She is currently reading about seven books. Of the seven, she will probably only finish five. Because she has standards, people. Or because she gets bored or can't remember where she left it or doesn't know that word and doesn't feel like getting the dictionary or because she got scared or whatever. The point is that she is going to wallow in this pile of books like Scrooge McDuck in his gold and you are going to get used to it.
3. She smiles terrible on film but amazing in real life - Almost every picture I own of the girl features this stupid, simpering smile. Like she's so above this school photographer nonsense. Even if it's mommy at the camera. But when she real-life smiles - the lights come on. Birds sing. The shutters shake. Unfortunately, no one who doesn't know her personally will ever see this smile. Sorry.
4. She is wicked brave in the face of hole punches - It seems that her mother lied to her about the pain of ear piercing. In my defense, I don't remember it hurting. I remember there being pressure and then a pinch. Quick like. Apparently, when you are eight, it hurts. Long and good with the soreness afterward, too. But, even with her fat pain tears rolling down her face, she never wavered. She wanted these suckers and she was getting them. When I told her about the cleaning and the care and that if she didn't follow the rules they would grow in and she'd have to do it again... Well, let's just say that she hasn't missed a cleaning yet.
5. She is mine and you can't have her - Look, you probably wouldn't want her anyway. She's a kinda drama queen. You should probably stick to your own kids. This one, this beautiful, sweet, funny, sassy, intelligent, wondrous being is mine, all mine. She is my constant reminder that good things happen. that patience pays off, that love will win and that there is more love inside you than you ever dreamed possible.
Mine. Tell me something about yours.
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