Miscellaneous

It’s hard for a person like me, who wears her heart on her sleeve and who feels compelled to write and talk about everything that goes on in life, be it good or bad, to keep things to myself. But some things are just not for the world to know. Some things need to be held tight to the chest and other healing measures must be taken.


In the meantime, some light, randomness of my life ensues...

I recently started dabbling in the world of loose leaf tea and am quickly becoming an addict.  I started stalking Teaopia's website and finally made the trip to the Ghetto Mall, risking my chances of being mugged or stabbed.  I got in and out as quickly as possible, not making eye contact with anyone.  I scored myself a bag of "Slim and Slender", "Mate Citrus Buzz", "Organic Dandelion Leaf" (which sounds and tastes nasty but has some fantastic health benefits) and, as pictured below, some "Love Spell".  I can't wait to get back in there to pick up some more teas and have been sharpening my shiv every night in anticipation of another trip to Ghetto Mall.

I have heard people talk about mashed cauliflower in place of mashed potatoes and will readily admit that I snubbed the idea.  I couldn't imagine that it could be anything good.  Then one day my dear friend Shannon made it and raved.  She gave me step by step instructions on how to make it and so, being curious, I did.  Ummmm... I LOVE it!  Low calorie, great tasting, very comforting and very reasonable substitute to mashed potatoes.  It's fitting perfectly into my diet and lifestyle and even my husband readily eats it.  I have started stocking up on cauliflower heads at every trip to the grocery store!  Have you tried it?  You should.  Don't be afraid! 

Along the same vein of trying new things, I bought a couple of portabella mushrooms recently.  Unsure really what to do with them, I decided one night to stuff them (well, top them is more accurate) a la pizza. You're obviously not getting the bready crust like you would from pizza dough, but this was so delicious and satisfying and a big treat for me.  It was healthy and low cal and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

My other favorite (when I have time to whip it up), is my egg white veggie omelet.  So delicious.  Always best when I have a bit of goat cheese to throw in...

Last weekend we got brave and took the kids out for the day.  We ate in a restaurant as a family for the first time since the "I want my REAL mom and dad" incident.  I was very pleased with the outcome. Nobody cried or screamed or poured water over everything.  Nobody in the restaurant even looked like they wanted to report us to the police or child welfare services.  Still, I left a large tip to cover the cleanup of the excessive sushi rice we left on the floor under our table.  Outside the restaurant, the kids were mesmerized by this fountain.  It was cute until Ruby sunk her arms in up to her elbows with her coat on.  Lincoln declared, "MESS!!" 

Since we had a later, larger lunch than usual on Saturday, we decided to just have nibbles for dinner - which I revised into a mini wine and cheese party.  The kind where my only guests are my toddlers and my husband - none of whom actually drank the wine.  *ahem*

 Lincoln dove right into the buffet but quickly realized that he does not care for Applewood Smoked Cheddar.  That's OK, it's my favorite.  More for me.

In other news, we had a bit of sunshine a week or two ago (been so long I can't remember exactly when it was). But I jumped on the opportunity to get the kids out for a stroller walk.  I bundled them up since just because it was sunny doesn't mean it was warm and we didn't want to catch hypothermia.  Ruby also insisted on wearing sunglasses.  And whatever she wants to do, Linc wants to do.  Except I didn't have any sunglasses for him so I dug up an old baby pair of glasses with the stretchy strap to hold them on.  He was pleased as punch to wear them and refused to take them off.  I recently went out and bought him a real pair of little boy sunglasses since during our walk, some woman asked if he was wearing swimming goggles...

We did end up getting Lincoln's big boy bed all set up and he's now happily sleeping in it every night.  Our problem now is that his dad takes him to bed and then since he fits in the bed, he conveniently falls asleep in there with him.  At 8pm.  Every night. 

As for Ruby's sleeping habits, they're still shaky at best.  Pretty hit and miss for her sleeping through the night in her own bed.  Saturday morning I thought I might get to sleep in but here is the reason I did not...

Ruby's current obsession is my iPhone.  She was so interested in it that I downloaded a little storybook app for her to watch to try to keep her entertained for a few minutes.  Apparently she lost interest in the storybook quite some time ago and has educated herself on how to use the camera function.  Sometimes I don't even know she's lifted my phone, used it and returned it to where I had it.  Until I go into the phone and find a picture like this...

If she's going to be a sneaky thief, I'm at least glad she's not a very good one.

I also found the following picture on my phone - which at first I thought was just the toddler's eye view of a toy laying in the hallway.  Days later, she pointed out that that toy on the floor is actually Lincoln throwing a tantrum...  Look close...

One photo she took, was of this beautiful throw, made and sent to us by our beloved Auntie Corney.  I love that Ruby took such a neat picture of it... 

Speaking of talented artists, I got my tax return back and my HUSBAND, of all people, suggested maybe I spend some of it by working on finally getting my sleeve finished.  He had barely uttered the words and I had made an appointment with "my guy".  Nothing makes you feel guilt like investing your money on self pain and tattoo ink...

And after running around all hellish day long, stressed to shit,  I took this shot of myself when I finally sat down one evening.  I realize I look somewhat worried or scared.  I think that's my natural look now.  Always waiting for the next bomb to drop.  I put a black and white filter on it because that is the best way to hide black circles, wrinkles, sagging skin and grey hair.   

Granny

Occasionally during times of struggle I will seek out "unconventional" guidance.  I have a couple of friends who are very good at reading tarot cards and I have always found their readings to provide me with some peace and direction.  Last July during a difficult stretch, a friend suggested I try to get a reading from Jeannine Bakriges.  At that time Jeannine was doing 5 free readings a month via Skype and I managed to schedule one with her.

I had no idea what to expect. I assumed it would be a tarot card reading. I did not know that Jeannine is a psychic medium.

Once the reading started, Jeannine paused and told me she could sense my skepticism but that that was good because we should all have a bit of skepticism and to question some of the things we come across in life.  Admittedly there was some skepticism but mostly it was surprise at the kind of reading she was giving me but also nervousness as I wanted to fully experience the reading but my kids were just waking up and about to unleash their terrorism on my home. 

Jeannine immediately felt someone trying to "come through".  She said it was a female who had passed.  She thought it was perhaps my paternal grandmother.  My grandmother died when I was very young and I never really knew her.  I didn't feel like it would be her.  Jeannine continued to describe the woman who was coming through and I suddenly realized it was my Great Granny, my dad's grandmother.  When I told Jeannine that's who I thought it was, she got a shiver down her spine and she said that's exactly who she felt it was. 

My Granny adored me.  I was the only girl child in a long line of boys.  She was a sweet, very wise woman who had married 3 times and owned race horses - very unconventional for her times.  She loved braiding my hair and told my parents to make sure I always read books, good quality books - which I grew up doing and continue to do in my adult life.  Granny was also short and "curvy" like me - or I should say I, like her. 

Jeannine said that Granny watches over me all the time and went on to tell me things about Granny that she had no way of knowing.  I was astonished and moved to tears.  She said Granny showed herself patting her heart with her hand.  It meant that she understood my plight.  My struggles.  She understood me. 

That reading was one of the big things that got me through a really hard time.  And it changed my life and how I looked at things. 

I told Steve about the reading and I was met with all the skepticism that I would expect from him. I told my mom about it and I although I know she tried to be open about it there was definite underlying skepticism.  I told my dad about it and asked him questions about Granny, but he was the biggest non-believerc of all and gets annoyed when I talk about this sort of thing.  Rolling his eyes and walking out of the room on more than one occasion. 

Although I considered writing about it on my blog at the time, I chose not to.  I know that most people think I'm already a little bit wacked and I don't need to provide any more fuel to enforceme that.  Beside, I sincerely felt that this reading, this connection to my deceased paternal grandmother who adored me so deeply when she was alive, was mine.  I didn't need or want to share it with others.  I didn't need the rejection of it or even validation for it.  It was mine and it was special and everybody else be damned. 

Of course then Eden put up her latest post in the Fresh Horses Brigade Meme, and I felt compelled to finally write about my special connection with Granny. 




After the reading with Jeannine, during a visit with my parents, I went into their basement and dug up the wooden box, lined with red velvet, containing Granny's old silverware. And I polished it all.  My way of connecting back with her and thanking her for watching over me.

Since the reading, I've seen and felt signs of Granny watching over me.  About a month ago, I was walking in my neighborhood, pulling my kids in their wagon.  A very old man, whom I've never seen before or since came walking down the street toward me.  He stopped me and told me my kids were beautiful.  Then the patted his chest and told me I was a good mom. 

That was a sign sent straight from Granny.

Night Off

Lincoln has been waking in the night again. He throws a big ass tantrum if he is not greeted by the right parent and then served a bottle of warm milk, followed by him sleeping on the chosen parent’s chest for the remainder of the night. Don’t dare fuck with him.


It’s getting a bit much.

It is my responsibility to fix the problem. I must figure out a solution and implement it. The inner Drill Sergeant is on the job!

The other night I decided we were no longer going to go to him in the night. We would let him cry it out and eventually he would fall back asleep and he would have learned to stop being a shit in the middle of the night and we’d all be happy. Done. Dealt with. Solved.

Except he tantrumed (screamed, kicked, punched, flailed, cried, yelled, smashed the shit out of his crib) for 2 long hours before Steve gave in and went to him. I was furious (but secretly relieved) that Steve caved. A two hour tantrum at 2am is not the answer to anything.

So I then decided that we would do away with his crib and he would graduate into a toddler bed. His crib, which was originally Ruby’s crib, converts into a bed but his room is too small for it so we moved Ruby’s toddler bed into his room. We started to set up the big bed in Ruby’s room only to find out it’s GINORMOUS and would take up her entire room. Except now her bed was already set up in Lincoln’s room and the crib dismantled. Now Ruby doesn’t have a bed.

Oh how I stressed and fret over that one. Pacing, talking to myself, running my hands through my hair.

Steve simply said that she’ll just have to sleep with us for a few days until we get her a bed this weekend.

But that’s not what I had PLANNED! I was doing this so everyone would sleep in their own rooms, in their own beds! Because that’s how it’s supposed to be!! Have we no discipline here?  What kind of hippie-dippy, free-range parents would we become?! Our children will become heathens if they can just sleep wherever they want!

Then I took a minute and thought, well why the fuck not? Who says we can’t do that? Who’s book of rules am I following here anyways? Wait a minute, there is no book of rules. This parenting gig is trial by fire.

Steve then carefully mentioned that I need to stop trying to control everything because I stress everyone out. And by everyone he means my own self (and probably him and the kids but he was too scared to say that).

Who cares if for a few days the sleeping arrangements are not perfect? WHY DO I CARE?? Why does everything have to be perfect all the time? I am so afraid of losing control over things that I am killing myself with stress! Isn't that defeating the purpose of everything I stand for?

In the end, Steve slept with Lincoln for his first night in his big boy bed.

They both slept through the night without a peep.

I slept in my bed with Ruby. Before falling asleep, she lay facing me and talked to me for a while, asking questions and telling me things. Her little brain is so interesting and I love the things that she thinks of and what she says. We talked and laughed and giggled and then she fell asleep. I loved having that time alone with her. And? I had a very comfortable, peaceful, refreshing sleep. Best sleep in ages, in fact.

Steve got up this morning, smitten with the enjoyment he got from sleeping next to Lincoln all night and everyone went happily on their way.

Could this be the start of something?

Self Help

I haven’t ran in almost 3 weeks due to injury. My doctor, who doesn’t advocate running, advised me to take Advil and stop running. I advised him that running is my “thing” and if he can’t fix my foot then he needs to refill my antidepressant prescription.

In the meantime I have found a relatively pain-free, (yet unfulfilling) exercise substitute in the elliptical trainer at the gym. It’s not the same, but it will stand in for now. I keep reminding myself that my foot is (slowly) healing and I will get back into my running routine. I need to be patient. This is just a setback. Life has lots of those.

Last week Ruby was very, very sick. After a week of her not get any better (and not eating), she had a nasty spell in which she was screaming with stomach pain and inconsolable. She seemed to be in pain every time we moved her. It was a bit scary for everyone who witnessed it (including my anti-rushing-to-the-doctor parents who told me to rush her to the doctor). So off we went to Children’s Hospital. She vomited all over herself on the way there and was nodding out like a heroin junkie. I carried her puke soaked, limp body from the pay parking lot, through the sleet, into the emergency room where we had a 2 ½ hour wait. The longer the wait, the bigger asshole/overreacter I feel like when we hit up the emergency room so to make myself feel better, I took a picture of her while we were waiting to see a doctor.

Doctor said that her skinny little body can’t sustain itself during such a stomach virus. Her blood glucose was very low which was causing her to be near comatose and unable to stay awake, (also causing painful gas in the tummy). She needs to eat more on a regular basis and I need to become a food pusher to keep her healthier.

Meanwhile, I spent $930 on groceries in the month of February. Who is eating all that food?! (We know it’s not Ruby.) I have never tallied up how much I spend at the grocery store before and I had no idea I was spending that much. It seems exorbitantly high to me – although I have no idea what is normal for a family of two adults and two toddlers in British Columbia (or anywhere for that matter). How do I feed my kids more and spend less on groceries? Please tell me if you know.

I ran to the grocery store yesterday evening (because despite the above paragraph, our pantry and fridge are remarkably bare), leaving Steve with the kids for a half hour. I felt guilty about that. EVEN THOUGH I WAS GOING TO BUY FOOD FOR MY KIDS TO KEEP THEM ALIVE. What the FUCK is wrong with me?? If there is any money left over after I buy groceries this weekend I’m going straight to the self help section of the bookstore. Any suggestions for a good “letting go of bullshit emotions” book? Are any of you as fucked up as me?

In other guilt related news, I booked a babysitter for this Saturday evening so he and I can go out for a burger and a beer to celebrate his birthday. Other than my parents (and daycare) we have never had a babysitter before.  Very daring of me but I do think it’s time. During a brave moment earlier this week, I asked my daycare lady if her teenage daughters ever babysat on weekends and they do but only at her house (which is only a half block away and the kids are already comfortable there). I feel weird (Weird? Or guilty?) about taking the kids out of the house to be babysat and then picking them up when they’ll be sleeping. I mean, that was totally the norm when I was a kid but does anyone DO that anymore?? Please tell me because I’m not sure I’ll have time to get to the “how not to feel guilty” part of my new self help book by 6pm on Saturday.

I had potato chips and two beer last night while I made dinner. Then when I sat down to eat my dinner I realized I was already full of beer and chips so I didn't actually eat my dinner.  While I was snacking on chips and sipping cold beer from a frosty glass I felt all proud of myself for breaking out of my soldier mode and allowing myself some enjoyment. 

Then I felt guilty for the rest of the night.

Sorry

Finally able to participate in Eden's Fresh Horses Brigade weekly meme.  I'm sorry... that I haven't been able to join in earlier. I've started posts for each and every week but by the time I was done composing, it was too late to link up and the moment had passed.

I'm sorry I struggle so hard sometimes and that I let the world know it.  I'm sorry I can't afford to go see my therapist every time I need to talk or sort something out, and that my blog becomes that outlet. I'm sorry that you roll your eyes or shake your head at me instead of leaving a comment on my posts. I'm sorry that you read all my posts and never comment - does it make you feel like you've got one over on me?

I'm sorry that I had my babies 18 months apart.  And I'm sorry that you don't believe in my infertility or that I didn't plan out the timing of my pregnancies so I'd be back at work just long enough to get another maternity leave. I'm sorry the person who covered my maternity leave was really lousy at the job and that you'll never forgive me for that.

I'm sorry for asking you not to be gone all weekend.  Sorry for wanting some personal time too.  Sorry I like a clean house and clean children.  I'm really sorry I get upset when I hear loud noises - that is a very deep rooted issue that comes from some not-so-nice childhood memories.  Sorry I get stressed out when things get chaotic, I know as a mother I'm supposed to be calm and calming and have all the answers.  Never let them see you sweat, right?  Really sorry that you don't think your personal life should change even though everything else has. Sorry I don't want to give you a blowjob after you've drank 6 beers while I was at the gym and that you will secretly (you think) hold that against me for days.  Sorry I want to shower alone after a long day instead of with two small children - it doesn't mean I don't love them.  Sorry I cooked the pork chops too lean so you didn't eat them. And the chicken too.

Sorry I got so drunk and let it all hang out - I guess the damn burst.

Sorry I lost a bunch of weight and that makes you uncomfortable because you didn't.

Sorry about my past.

Sorry I'm constantly changing, rolling with the punches, trying to always improve - and you don't like change.

Sorry I've spanked my kids out of pure frustration and not because it was the right parenting choice.  Sorry I've yelled at them when I knew it wasn't going to do any good - except it felt good to yell and let it out.

Sorry I have to be on antidepressants.  And really sorry when I talk about my own depression and ask for support.  That shit makes people very uncomfortable, did you know?

I'm sorry that I can never deal with one issue exclusively.  I'm sorry that one child is underweight.  I'm sorry that they keep getting sick - is it something I'm doing wrong? It must be, I'm their mom.  I'm sorry I'm never enough.

I'm sorry that sometimes I just want to be alone.  So selfish.

I'm sorry you don't believe the same things I do.  Sorry that saying I felt Granny watching over me the other day made you roll your eyes and leave the room.  Sorry if you think my spirituality is bullshit.  Sorry you don't believe I'm sensitive to certain, non-tangible, non-visible, not obvious things.  I sense things and feel things that others don't and I'm sorry you think that's a bunch of hocus pocus shit in my head.

Sorry I'm so determined.







Sorry that I'll have to say sorry to a bunch of people for writing this.



Also sorry I said "blowjob" on my blog...

Trump Card

I can be struggling as all hell to balance life, to try to give the right amount of myself to each part, and I can be all full of thoughts and ideas, trying to figure out how to manage better, to get more done, to make myself and others happy, to squeeze more into my day, I can be very caught up in the whirlwind of life...

When suddenly, one sick little kid becomes the trump card and the rest of it seems so ridiculously unimportant. 

As if I needed some clarity, a very sick little girl has shown me what is really important. None of the other shit seems to matter quite so much now.  It can all fall away and wait.

The Hangover

Ever have a hangover so horrid that it makes you think, I mean really think about yourself and your life?

I happen to have experienced (or still be experiencing) one such hangover.

I didn't plan on going overboard.  But if I look back on the weeks preceding it, I can totally see how it happened.  I have been depressed and stressed and have had a bazillion things on my mind.  I've been super strict with myself and running a very tight ship.  I make myself deal with everything - no slacking, no ignoring things. I have to find answers for everything. I have to complete every task.  I never accept excuses for myself.  I never just let shit go and I never seem to be able to relax.

Some of that discipline has paid off. I've lost some weight, which makes me feel good.  I've been eating really well and was exercising like a demon - until I pushed it too far and hurt my foot, which is wreaking some serious havoc in my head, one more thing to deal with, to figure out how to fix.

On Saturday my mom took the kids overnight to give me a break and an opportunity arose for Steve and I to go to the Canucks game.  I knew I'd be drinking - which would be extra calories, and so in a very misguided and over disciplined way of thinking, I didn't eat anything after the stir-fry I had at noon.  Nothing but a bite from Steve's hot dog at the game and a piece of calamari at the pub after the game.

Fucking stupid.

I got drunk really quick on the first couple of beers and just felt so fucking free and enjoyed not caring about any of my shit! I kept drinking and eventually went into what I call "auto-pilot mode".

I was home at a reasonable time but have no memory of the trip home (and I'm missing some big chunks of the time we spend at the pub).

The next morning I woke up with a killer hangover.  Have not had one like that in quite some time since I no longer over-indulge that way. (Hard to believe that this was a regular occurrence in my 20's.)

For me, a killer hangover is not only defined by a headache and a tummy ache.  It comes along with a HUGE dose of self loathing, guilt, fear, shame and depression. I beat the shit out of myself in my head.  And it lasts for several days.  I want to crawl in a hole and hide for a week - except I can't hide from myself.

So here I am once again trying to figure things out.  How to make this better.  How to do things better.  How to make sure this NEVER happens again.  I'm trying to figure out a way to be kinder to myself, to be more gentle and to ease up on my own reins a bit.  Everyone deserves some down time, some chill time, some fun time.  What makes me think I don't deserve that?

I'm not talking about deserving to get shitfaced - getting that drunk is fucking stupid and irresponsible.  I'm talking about allowing myself some enjoyment and  personal time in my regular day-to-day, week-to-week life so that I don't feel such a need to decompress that I blow the doors off the motherfucker when the opportunity arises.