I'm thinking about my parents tonight. They're out of town and so I didn't talk to them this weekend as is the norm. I think as a blogger you're not supposed to refer back to previous posts, but I think that's also why they are on my mind. My first entry was about them, in not such a positive light. (Don't feel like you have to go back and read it now or anything! I mean, no pressure!) I think that what I've realized lately is that the issues I have, become noticeable to me when I'm around them. Not so much that the issue IS them. It's just my stuff to figure out. Everyone has that, yeah? Anyway, I wrote about the yin and now it's time for the yang. Or is it the other way around? One is dark and one is light, right?
Mom and Dad are great folks. I have always been quite attached to them, more than most people I know at my age. I was a clingy child. The first memory I have is my mom dropping me at Mother's Morning Out (what I called Pamper School) when I was 3, I think, and screaming bloody murder for her. She promptly returned.
I think my parents have always done the very best that they can. I think both of their childhoods were not of the happiest sort. I think they grew up in a generation where parents didn't talk with their children a whole lot. And certainly parents didn't praise their kids. And really, I loved my grandparents, but they were not the warmest people.
I think both of my parents are stronger than they realize. My mother lost 2 brothers and both parents by the time I was 21. She lived around the world and ended up in teeny tiny Gallup, New Mexico. I am quite fond of it now that I don't live there anymore. But I think when she first lived there people were not all that friendly or welcoming, as small communities can be. My mother has always been one of the warmest, great smelling (she really does smell great, one of those ways she has of making you feel good just getting a whiff of her! This is to say it's her normal smell, not her perfume-y smell) most friendly persons I know. She has always supported me, listened to me, and loved me.
My dad grew up with a not-very-happy or well adjusted father. A man who drank too much and shouted a lot. His parents divorced. They didn't have much money. But Dad worked hard with the same company for over 30 years. He saved money like crazy and now they live in a beautiful home in Santa Fe. My dad has never cared what people think of him, (why didn't I get that trait? The flip side to that coin is that he can wear the same Corvette shirt for 3 days in a row, holey and faded, and not understand why you ask him to please change his shirt before going out to dinner) has never been judgemental, and has always been a great listener and problem solver. I still call him "Daddy" and he still calls me "cing" (couldn't tell you why?)
I have always felt comfortable talking to them about almost everything. Well, uh, except sex. Which is a bit ironic that, me, the Catholic-going-girl, got pregnant at 23 before I was married. This was not what I had intended. I think I was making myself literally sick when I found out. I felt dumb and ashamed and depressed. I was terrified of telling my folks. What would they think of me? I always cared what they thought. But I knew I loved hubby, long before he was my hubby. I knew we were going to be together and that we would love and care for this child. My parents seemed to know the same thing. When I told them (shaking and almost throwing up again) my mom just said, "Well we figured this would happen. And we were just waiting for the wedding announcement." Like it was no big deal. Maybe it WAS for her, but she sure pulled off the relaxed grandmother-to-be persona. She was so cool, she could have been driving down Highway 1 near San Francisco, in a convertible, scarf around her head and smoking a cigarette. I will always be grateful to her for that.
I got much sicker then. Was I doing it to myself? Maybe partially but not completely. I couldn't stop throwing up. I had just moved with hubby to Fort Collins, didn't know anyone, didn't have a job, and all I could do was hope to make it to the toilet. My mom, living in Arizona at the time, came to help for a weekend. Meanwhile, hubby's (who was at the time fiance) smell was overwhelming to me, in not a good way. I don't think he understood. I'm not sure if I did. But it was his smell, onion bagels, and bacon cooking, that just a whiff could do me in. I told my mom, "I'm coming back with you." I don't think she knew what to do and I don't think she really wanted to take care of her preggie-throwing-up daughter. But she agreed. Didn't utter a complaint.
I stayed with my folks for more than a month in my first trimester. I had to go to the hospital twice for IV fluids because I wasn't keeping water down. I lost 10 pounds. The baby seemed to be fine.
All I did at their house for that month was lay on the couch, watch re-runs of Beverly Hills, 90210, and run to the bathroom. Thank goodness for cable! I can't remember what channel it was, but they showed 90210 24/7. But the re-runs were not the good ones. They were not from when they were in high school but around the time when they graduated from college and were living in beach houses and doing different stuff with their hair that I didn't like.
The really exciting times were when there were scorpions in the sink or toilet. It was just that time of year in Arizona. Were they making fun of me? Taunting me in the toilet? "I can take you, you little punks. Wanna peice of me? Do you?" You'll get a piece! My middle name is "throw up". Ohhh, gross joke.
Believe it or not, I think I was starting to go a little nutty. But I think I knew in my heart it was the last time I could be my Mom and Daddy's little girl. It was time to grow up. I hadn't planned it this way, (well, I mean, I did make my own choices) but it sure seemed to happen fast for me. Now I think, the pregnancy was a transition time of turning from girl to woman/mother. My parents would never take care of me like that again.
I returned to Fort Collins, got married, had a fabulous honeymoon in San Diego, tolerated hubby's smell, and continued to throw up throughout the pregnancy. It got better after the first trimester but never really stopped. I started thinking, and getting worried, that maybe this was a sign that the baby was going to be a terror.
I was wrong. As soon as I had that baby, he was the most precious thing ever. A very, very, good baby. And a wonderful boy now. He is so sweet, sensitive, and empathetic. I've never seen a 6 year-old like him. He was meant to be. I'm so thankful he is in the world. I wouldn't change that for anything.
And, I liked hubby's smell again. Until I got pregnant the second time but that's a different story. Also, if he rides his bike home from work, then works on the bike, proceeds to work on the car, and then makes vomitous smelling beer (I swear I'll quit talking about vomit soon!) I just want to hit him over the head with a frying pan, 1980's cartoon style-WHAT does it take for you to get in the shower?
My good parents adore all the guys. Hubby, the 6 year old and the 3 year old. They are so good to them and they take really good care of them. The boys love them too. I'm very pleased they have such a nice relationship, especially because they don't live here. I wasn't as close with my grandparents. It's amazing how the generations change. I think we're just supposed to keep learning and do the best we can with what we have. I know that's what my parents have done. They've done a good job.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Saturday night
It's Saturday night and I'm grumpy again. What the heck? I think I could have used some alone time today but it didn't really happen. I did get to take a nap for about an hour so that was super extravagant. It's funny how naptime has really become "Mama's naptime". The 3 year old is just getting out of it. They are so good about doing quiet time though. Today, hubby was with them while I slept. Maybe I'm still tired and just need another nap, but for about 10 hours this time.
It's hard to figure out how to spend time wisely on the weekends. I tend to crave some alone time and when I do, I should just take it. On the otherhand, it's also the time when the 4 of us can be together. I really do love the bike rides, card games, reading about animals, cartoons, waffles and fruit in the morning all together. Sometimes I seem to get this calling to just sit and sulk like a little kitty though.
I wanted to go to the second hand store today, which is one of my favorite things to do. I wanted to spend a good long time looking at all the chipped china, fascinatingly colored and designed (and every now and then really awesome) tank tops, and handbags where sometimes one can find a beautiful Nine West or sporty something rather from REI. But it does take precious wandering time. I should have known when Hubby said he wanted to come to look for broken bikes to make a new folding bike and old pants to turn into capris for bike riding that it wasn't going to be relaxing. The other factor that didn't help the non-relaxing feeling was the 2 year old throwing a huge tantrum while her mother kept shopping, completely oblivious.
Ah well, I found a few good things and off we went, new/old broken bike and all. So I should just get over myself, yes? I made what I really thought was a fabulous yet slightly weird salad with avocado, tomato, and leftover pork chops in a peach preserve sauce. The 3 year old had fish sticks (his fav) and the 6 year old had a corn dog (his fav).
They then ate up their carrots and jelly beans like good little bunnies and got in the bath. Hubby said, "Go write in your blog and surf the net a little. When you come out, we'll have some shiraz and watch Micheal Clayton." He's very good about knowing (sometimes after the fact but still--wonderful that he knows) to get the heck away. Actually, I think it's a subtle and gentle way of telling me to go away! The boys are peacefully sleeping in their respective beds, I get my alone time, and I'm already feeling much better. Then maybe hubby and I can have our little date in the living room. It is Saturday night after all!
It's hard to figure out how to spend time wisely on the weekends. I tend to crave some alone time and when I do, I should just take it. On the otherhand, it's also the time when the 4 of us can be together. I really do love the bike rides, card games, reading about animals, cartoons, waffles and fruit in the morning all together. Sometimes I seem to get this calling to just sit and sulk like a little kitty though.
I wanted to go to the second hand store today, which is one of my favorite things to do. I wanted to spend a good long time looking at all the chipped china, fascinatingly colored and designed (and every now and then really awesome) tank tops, and handbags where sometimes one can find a beautiful Nine West or sporty something rather from REI. But it does take precious wandering time. I should have known when Hubby said he wanted to come to look for broken bikes to make a new folding bike and old pants to turn into capris for bike riding that it wasn't going to be relaxing. The other factor that didn't help the non-relaxing feeling was the 2 year old throwing a huge tantrum while her mother kept shopping, completely oblivious.
Ah well, I found a few good things and off we went, new/old broken bike and all. So I should just get over myself, yes? I made what I really thought was a fabulous yet slightly weird salad with avocado, tomato, and leftover pork chops in a peach preserve sauce. The 3 year old had fish sticks (his fav) and the 6 year old had a corn dog (his fav).
They then ate up their carrots and jelly beans like good little bunnies and got in the bath. Hubby said, "Go write in your blog and surf the net a little. When you come out, we'll have some shiraz and watch Micheal Clayton." He's very good about knowing (sometimes after the fact but still--wonderful that he knows) to get the heck away. Actually, I think it's a subtle and gentle way of telling me to go away! The boys are peacefully sleeping in their respective beds, I get my alone time, and I'm already feeling much better. Then maybe hubby and I can have our little date in the living room. It is Saturday night after all!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Bodily Cravings
It's funny how your mind works when it thinks you don't want something but your body seems to know that it would do you good. Like when you want to sleep in and not go to yoga at 6:30 a.m., so you don't set the alarm, but you wake up anyway, so you feel like you really should go, and let's face it, you know you'd feel better if you did. Well that happened to me this morning. I had a few small events last night that warranted me getting just minor grumpy. I was glad I wasn't heavy-duty grumpy. Yoga always helps with grumpiness (as does my medication, as is the running joke now!) The somewhat-foul mood started with my English class.
I only had one student, which can be tricky because we usually do a lot of group and pair work. This student came late enough (about 20 minutes late) that I was just beginning to think that no one was going to show up. I was getting a little excited about going home early. But my nice Mexican student came; the one with 3 kids, who works in construction in Denver all day, then comes to English class for 2 hours a night 2 times a week, sometimes straight from Denver. I thought about saying, "You know, I'm tired. I'm just going to go home because there aren't enough students here tonight and I don't feel like being here." But I didn't. In fact, I'm glad I didn't because it worked out quite well. Also, I would be such a schmuck compared to him.
This particular student speaks very well and participates easily. However, he gets frustrated and uncomfortable with writing tasks. So, I was able to say, "Would you like to work on writing?" knowing he wouldn't have to worry about any other students. We were able to work on simple sentences for over an hour. We also read a story about Pompeii, which he seemed to find interesting, and then answered questions. We were supposed to be reading about parent involvement, but what are you going to do? It was actually a nice break having a one-on-one lesson instead of a bit of pain, as I thought it might be. He smiled really nicely when he left. I felt like the writing exercise really may have helped him; with confidence, if nothing else. It turned out to be one of those nights when I was so glad to be there. Sort of like going to yoga when I don't really want to! That often happens with the things that are good and healthy for you. Why can't that ever happen with the not so healthy things? "I really don't want that chocolate cream pie and ginger ale and bourbon. It makes me absolutely groan with impatience just thinking about it."
It was leaving school that I most definitely got grumpy. I rode my bike and one of the girls who does the childcare for us said, "Be careful. My roommate got hit on her bike by a car." I get irritated when people assume it's not safe to ride your bike, in daytime or nighttime. I had a headlight and tail light. I live about 5 blocks away from the school so it makes a lot of sense for me to ride. I also had a feeling that this girl who got hit was probably riding on the wrong side of the street with no lights, coming home drunk after being at Lucky Joe's in Old Town. (The childcare girl is a college girl who seems to enjoy partying-nothing wrong with that until your roommate rides her bike home intoxicated and unsafely.) Then everyone got in their cars and drove off.
I rode home and it was SO cold! I had gloves but no hat. The wind was blowing which seemed to blow right through me. I made it home, glad it was only a few blocks of riding. When I walked in the door though, the overpowering smell of vomit struck me. I know that smell. Hubby's brewing more beer!
Hubby is always up to something. He figured out how to use the sewing machine for the first time, after just reading the manual, to sew a bag for a folding bike that he made so he could check it at the airport without getting charged extra for bike shipping. He decided he wanted a yurt so he built one with a wood frame and tent-like white top in the backyard. Somehow he doesn't seem to spend much money on this crap! I mean, uh, really, really cool stuff. I think he would like to make solar panels for our house so we could use the sun's energy for our home's energy and take the money he saved from all that solar power, to take a bike trip across Mongolia to eat Yak testicles. It's maddening and endearing at the same time.
So anyway, his first batch of amber ale was really good. So good in fact I think he could sell it. He gave it to everyone and everyone loved it! I think it's as exciting for him to make it as it is for the boys to make edible peanut butter play dough. But the smell! Oh my goodness. Our little kitchen was being overrun by this huge pot with the vomit smelling liquid in it and big buckets everywhere. The boys were running around (not yet in bed) in pj's with wet hair. The 3 year old was saying "Mama, you brush my teeth!" I went into the bathroom which had little boy clothes strewn about. At least they had had a bath. And they really were ready for bed. All shiny-faced and sweet smelling. The dog was thumping me with his tail, he was so happy. Hubby was so happy with his green chile beer, that he was as shiny faced as the bathed-boys. I'm not sure he'll be able to wait the 10 days for it to be ready. He may just have to drink it, not fermented. How could I stay a grump with all this fun chaos going on? It really wasn't bad. I think I just wanted to be grumpy.
I took a nice long hot shower, hubby gave me a shot of rum, we had lots of jelly beans, and laughed really hard at Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson in the Wedding Crashers. We went to bed late and I already decided I wasn't going to go to yoga. I didn't set the alarm. But I put out yoga clothes on my dresser just in case, and sure enough, I woke up. Yoga's at 6:30 and I woke up at 6:17. I laid there for about 30 seconds debating. I really wanted to keep sleeping but I knew I should just go. I HAD woken up after all. I kissed hubby on the shoulder, jumped up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and made it just in time.
Yoga was wonderful. I felt thankful for the day, the sun, my family, my health. Good job, inner self, in getting me there!
I only had one student, which can be tricky because we usually do a lot of group and pair work. This student came late enough (about 20 minutes late) that I was just beginning to think that no one was going to show up. I was getting a little excited about going home early. But my nice Mexican student came; the one with 3 kids, who works in construction in Denver all day, then comes to English class for 2 hours a night 2 times a week, sometimes straight from Denver. I thought about saying, "You know, I'm tired. I'm just going to go home because there aren't enough students here tonight and I don't feel like being here." But I didn't. In fact, I'm glad I didn't because it worked out quite well. Also, I would be such a schmuck compared to him.
This particular student speaks very well and participates easily. However, he gets frustrated and uncomfortable with writing tasks. So, I was able to say, "Would you like to work on writing?" knowing he wouldn't have to worry about any other students. We were able to work on simple sentences for over an hour. We also read a story about Pompeii, which he seemed to find interesting, and then answered questions. We were supposed to be reading about parent involvement, but what are you going to do? It was actually a nice break having a one-on-one lesson instead of a bit of pain, as I thought it might be. He smiled really nicely when he left. I felt like the writing exercise really may have helped him; with confidence, if nothing else. It turned out to be one of those nights when I was so glad to be there. Sort of like going to yoga when I don't really want to! That often happens with the things that are good and healthy for you. Why can't that ever happen with the not so healthy things? "I really don't want that chocolate cream pie and ginger ale and bourbon. It makes me absolutely groan with impatience just thinking about it."
It was leaving school that I most definitely got grumpy. I rode my bike and one of the girls who does the childcare for us said, "Be careful. My roommate got hit on her bike by a car." I get irritated when people assume it's not safe to ride your bike, in daytime or nighttime. I had a headlight and tail light. I live about 5 blocks away from the school so it makes a lot of sense for me to ride. I also had a feeling that this girl who got hit was probably riding on the wrong side of the street with no lights, coming home drunk after being at Lucky Joe's in Old Town. (The childcare girl is a college girl who seems to enjoy partying-nothing wrong with that until your roommate rides her bike home intoxicated and unsafely.) Then everyone got in their cars and drove off.
I rode home and it was SO cold! I had gloves but no hat. The wind was blowing which seemed to blow right through me. I made it home, glad it was only a few blocks of riding. When I walked in the door though, the overpowering smell of vomit struck me. I know that smell. Hubby's brewing more beer!
Hubby is always up to something. He figured out how to use the sewing machine for the first time, after just reading the manual, to sew a bag for a folding bike that he made so he could check it at the airport without getting charged extra for bike shipping. He decided he wanted a yurt so he built one with a wood frame and tent-like white top in the backyard. Somehow he doesn't seem to spend much money on this crap! I mean, uh, really, really cool stuff. I think he would like to make solar panels for our house so we could use the sun's energy for our home's energy and take the money he saved from all that solar power, to take a bike trip across Mongolia to eat Yak testicles. It's maddening and endearing at the same time.
So anyway, his first batch of amber ale was really good. So good in fact I think he could sell it. He gave it to everyone and everyone loved it! I think it's as exciting for him to make it as it is for the boys to make edible peanut butter play dough. But the smell! Oh my goodness. Our little kitchen was being overrun by this huge pot with the vomit smelling liquid in it and big buckets everywhere. The boys were running around (not yet in bed) in pj's with wet hair. The 3 year old was saying "Mama, you brush my teeth!" I went into the bathroom which had little boy clothes strewn about. At least they had had a bath. And they really were ready for bed. All shiny-faced and sweet smelling. The dog was thumping me with his tail, he was so happy. Hubby was so happy with his green chile beer, that he was as shiny faced as the bathed-boys. I'm not sure he'll be able to wait the 10 days for it to be ready. He may just have to drink it, not fermented. How could I stay a grump with all this fun chaos going on? It really wasn't bad. I think I just wanted to be grumpy.
I took a nice long hot shower, hubby gave me a shot of rum, we had lots of jelly beans, and laughed really hard at Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson in the Wedding Crashers. We went to bed late and I already decided I wasn't going to go to yoga. I didn't set the alarm. But I put out yoga clothes on my dresser just in case, and sure enough, I woke up. Yoga's at 6:30 and I woke up at 6:17. I laid there for about 30 seconds debating. I really wanted to keep sleeping but I knew I should just go. I HAD woken up after all. I kissed hubby on the shoulder, jumped up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and made it just in time.
Yoga was wonderful. I felt thankful for the day, the sun, my family, my health. Good job, inner self, in getting me there!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Priorities
It's 10:36 am and I need to pick up the 3 year old from pre-school in less than an hour. I had big plans this morning for cleaning, blogging, and preparing for my English as a Second Language class that's tonight. The only thing I've done is 1 load of laundry, email my Santa Fe friend, and chat online with my sister. Put that way, what's more important? You gotta have priorities here.
I find myself thinking about blogging all the time now. I want to write all the time! It feels so good. It's really nice to have an outlet, besides poor hubby, who is a very patient listener. Of course, now I say to him, "Did you read my blog today? Didja, didja?" He gets it from all sides.
It's 4 days after Easter and the 3 year old said to me after dinner last night, "Can I have that candy, the one that's as big as my head?" It was a Cadbury creme egg, so they are quite large. I wonder if he thought it really was as big as his head. At the same time, the 6 year old, hubby and I are having chocolate cherry chip ice cream. Have you had it? Ohmigosh, it's heaven sent from Breyer's themselves. I like mine a little melty, and not chewy. Then when you lick it off the spoon it's almost like drinking it. So I put it into the "miker" (as the 6 year old called it about 3 years ago, and one of those sayings that will always stick) for about 9 seconds. It's perfection in a little bowl! I asked the 6 year old if he would like his mikered, but he said, "Mom, I have a miker in my mouth!" Good point. I guess I could have done it his way but I like the easy way. It's too much work to have to keep it in your mouth that long without eating it and then being disappointed that it's not melty enough.
I'm going to clean now for 28 minutes. The planning for class will have to be at nap-time.
I find myself thinking about blogging all the time now. I want to write all the time! It feels so good. It's really nice to have an outlet, besides poor hubby, who is a very patient listener. Of course, now I say to him, "Did you read my blog today? Didja, didja?" He gets it from all sides.
It's 4 days after Easter and the 3 year old said to me after dinner last night, "Can I have that candy, the one that's as big as my head?" It was a Cadbury creme egg, so they are quite large. I wonder if he thought it really was as big as his head. At the same time, the 6 year old, hubby and I are having chocolate cherry chip ice cream. Have you had it? Ohmigosh, it's heaven sent from Breyer's themselves. I like mine a little melty, and not chewy. Then when you lick it off the spoon it's almost like drinking it. So I put it into the "miker" (as the 6 year old called it about 3 years ago, and one of those sayings that will always stick) for about 9 seconds. It's perfection in a little bowl! I asked the 6 year old if he would like his mikered, but he said, "Mom, I have a miker in my mouth!" Good point. I guess I could have done it his way but I like the easy way. It's too much work to have to keep it in your mouth that long without eating it and then being disappointed that it's not melty enough.
I'm going to clean now for 28 minutes. The planning for class will have to be at nap-time.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Dinner with Barack
I got an invitation from my friend Barack Obama to donate to his campaign and then I'd be entered in a drawing to have dinner with him!! Oh, the only other man that I would love to have dinner with besides my hubby (and Christian Bale and Will Smith!) So of course I donated. Only $30 but that's okay. I think I hit the "donate" button twice which means it could be $60. But Barack is worth it. He has become almost like a spiritual leader for me. The idea of being positive, having hope, and uniting with people to make change is so inspiring to me. I really feel we NEED Barack. My kids need Barack. I have been praying lately to the universe, to God, that Barack will win. I pray about other things too but lately this subject has been in the forefront of my mind.
I've already started thinking, what in the world should I wear?
I've already started thinking, what in the world should I wear?
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
pre AD's and post AD's
I have to add a thought on my previous entry. It looked so idealistic and positive. The idea of changing your thought patterns-it's really wonderful. I do believe in it. But the one little detail that I neglected to mention is that I have recently been aided by Fluoxetine. The generic drug for Prozac (20 mg.) Prozac has changed my life! I wish I could say that I've become more relaxed, less insecure and generally more happy just because I have been able to change how I think. However, I believe that Prozac has helped with enabling me to change how I think. Mother's little helper, yes? Nothing wrong with that.
I did fight against the idea for a long time. Not toward other people on them, mind you. Just against myself. I kept thinking that I should be able to figure this out on my own. What the hell is wrong with me anyway? WHY can't I be happier and more contented? I have so much in my life including a lot of love. These thoughts just made me feel worse because I couldn't figure it out. And doesn't it seem that a lot of people, mainly women, are medicated now? My feeling, and this is just a hunch, is that the more stuff we are able (and not necessarily need) to acquire in American society, the more we compare ourselves with others, the more we start feeling inadequate because we don't have the same new shiny _______(Toyota Sequoia, computer, IPOD, 4 bedroom, large basement, 2 car garage patio home, or fill in the blank with your own) as Sally does down the street. It seems it's become harder to be happier and notice the things we do have when there is so much more out there that's constantly flashed in front of our faces that will somehow fill not only our hearts but our souls. This, then, leads to depression and anxiety as well as insecurity. There are other factors, of course, as well. As I mentioned in the last post, I'm no artist, nor whale expert, and this time no scientist of any sort. But the nice thing about being 31 is that I now have a little experience to have some opinions on this sort of thing!
Pre anti-depressant, (or pre AD's) I tried a lot of other "natural" options for feeling better. I tried St. John's Wort, which seemed to just make me jittery. I stopped drinking caffeine, for the same reason plus not sleeping well. I took a jizzallion milligrams of omega 3 fatty acids/fish oil because they are supposed to help with depression. But all they helped with was having some extraordinary burps that I did not enjoy, as I don't even enjoy eating fish! I tried SAM-e, I'm not sure exactly what it is except expensive. It too, was supposed to aid depression. The only thing I noticed, and this was really weird, is that I started spotting. Needless to say, I stopped taking that. I also tried progesterone cream that I rubbed on my wrists and inner arms 2 weeks before my period started. The extra dose of hormone was supposed to help as hormones dip right before the cycle begins. I didn't notice a thing, good or bad. Just $20 every 2 months or so out of the checkbook. I used this for more than a year. I tried eating more protein, more dairy, less carbs, less sugar, then less protein, only milk, more carbs (more energy) and well, more sugar. I probably could have tried harder with the food front but gosh darnit, I love to eat. I know, who doesn't? But if one of the things that truly gives me pleasure is gone, well then, I don't see how that could help depression. I also tried more exercise which I think is the one thing that really does help. It was still inconsistent though. I turned 30 and felt worse. I had already gotten a bachelor's degree, lived and traveled in Europe, gotten married, had 2 kids, bought a house, and I was 30. What was left? I wasn't feeling suicidal, but I felt that life was starting to go downhill.
Finally, one of my good friends saved the day. She was in the same boat and even had a PhD in counseling and education. I felt we were good friends but depression was a topic that we hadn't touched. I was thinking that my PhD friend had it all. Married with 2 kids also (except that she didn't get pregnant before she got married, which is a whole other blog entry entirely.) So here I was comparing myself to her (as I figured one does in American society, right?) and she had accomplished more than I had. Then I discovered she felt the same way! It's incredible. I began to find that a lot of my friends were having similar thoughts and problems. And most of them are on some AD or anti-anxiety. Especially the ones who had kids. I went to see my PhD friend's doctor who was wonderful. She explained that after having kids (especially 2) hormones are never really the same. She said a lot of women get really depressed. I liked and trusted her immediately, so when she recommended Prozac, I said "put me on it, girlfriend."
What a difference it's made! Post Anti-depressants (from this point on: post AD's) I am happier, to say the least. I feel better about myself. I feel more motivated, in general. I feel like I am a better mom and wife. I don't obsess about how I feel, look, and sound all the freaking time. The house (believe it or not) doesn't have to be perfect. I don't feel eternally worried. I'm also not angry. I was feeling angry often at hubby, for reasons I couldn't always express. I feel like life is just starting now at age 31, instead of ending. I feel there is so much that I want to do and most of it are small things. And perhaps most importantly, I am not comparing myself to others, especially my friends (because that doesn't feel good.) I just feel more like myself. It's so much easier to be happy and thankful for the things I do have. I think I started worrying that because I had done so many major life changing events in my twenties, that there was nothing left to accomplish. But my kids are little, I'm young for crying out loud! I finally understand it. And I am just so thankful that there is something out there that has helped me.
I did fight against the idea for a long time. Not toward other people on them, mind you. Just against myself. I kept thinking that I should be able to figure this out on my own. What the hell is wrong with me anyway? WHY can't I be happier and more contented? I have so much in my life including a lot of love. These thoughts just made me feel worse because I couldn't figure it out. And doesn't it seem that a lot of people, mainly women, are medicated now? My feeling, and this is just a hunch, is that the more stuff we are able (and not necessarily need) to acquire in American society, the more we compare ourselves with others, the more we start feeling inadequate because we don't have the same new shiny _______(Toyota Sequoia, computer, IPOD, 4 bedroom, large basement, 2 car garage patio home, or fill in the blank with your own) as Sally does down the street. It seems it's become harder to be happier and notice the things we do have when there is so much more out there that's constantly flashed in front of our faces that will somehow fill not only our hearts but our souls. This, then, leads to depression and anxiety as well as insecurity. There are other factors, of course, as well. As I mentioned in the last post, I'm no artist, nor whale expert, and this time no scientist of any sort. But the nice thing about being 31 is that I now have a little experience to have some opinions on this sort of thing!
Pre anti-depressant, (or pre AD's) I tried a lot of other "natural" options for feeling better. I tried St. John's Wort, which seemed to just make me jittery. I stopped drinking caffeine, for the same reason plus not sleeping well. I took a jizzallion milligrams of omega 3 fatty acids/fish oil because they are supposed to help with depression. But all they helped with was having some extraordinary burps that I did not enjoy, as I don't even enjoy eating fish! I tried SAM-e, I'm not sure exactly what it is except expensive. It too, was supposed to aid depression. The only thing I noticed, and this was really weird, is that I started spotting. Needless to say, I stopped taking that. I also tried progesterone cream that I rubbed on my wrists and inner arms 2 weeks before my period started. The extra dose of hormone was supposed to help as hormones dip right before the cycle begins. I didn't notice a thing, good or bad. Just $20 every 2 months or so out of the checkbook. I used this for more than a year. I tried eating more protein, more dairy, less carbs, less sugar, then less protein, only milk, more carbs (more energy) and well, more sugar. I probably could have tried harder with the food front but gosh darnit, I love to eat. I know, who doesn't? But if one of the things that truly gives me pleasure is gone, well then, I don't see how that could help depression. I also tried more exercise which I think is the one thing that really does help. It was still inconsistent though. I turned 30 and felt worse. I had already gotten a bachelor's degree, lived and traveled in Europe, gotten married, had 2 kids, bought a house, and I was 30. What was left? I wasn't feeling suicidal, but I felt that life was starting to go downhill.
Finally, one of my good friends saved the day. She was in the same boat and even had a PhD in counseling and education. I felt we were good friends but depression was a topic that we hadn't touched. I was thinking that my PhD friend had it all. Married with 2 kids also (except that she didn't get pregnant before she got married, which is a whole other blog entry entirely.) So here I was comparing myself to her (as I figured one does in American society, right?) and she had accomplished more than I had. Then I discovered she felt the same way! It's incredible. I began to find that a lot of my friends were having similar thoughts and problems. And most of them are on some AD or anti-anxiety. Especially the ones who had kids. I went to see my PhD friend's doctor who was wonderful. She explained that after having kids (especially 2) hormones are never really the same. She said a lot of women get really depressed. I liked and trusted her immediately, so when she recommended Prozac, I said "put me on it, girlfriend."
What a difference it's made! Post Anti-depressants (from this point on: post AD's) I am happier, to say the least. I feel better about myself. I feel more motivated, in general. I feel like I am a better mom and wife. I don't obsess about how I feel, look, and sound all the freaking time. The house (believe it or not) doesn't have to be perfect. I don't feel eternally worried. I'm also not angry. I was feeling angry often at hubby, for reasons I couldn't always express. I feel like life is just starting now at age 31, instead of ending. I feel there is so much that I want to do and most of it are small things. And perhaps most importantly, I am not comparing myself to others, especially my friends (because that doesn't feel good.) I just feel more like myself. It's so much easier to be happy and thankful for the things I do have. I think I started worrying that because I had done so many major life changing events in my twenties, that there was nothing left to accomplish. But my kids are little, I'm young for crying out loud! I finally understand it. And I am just so thankful that there is something out there that has helped me.
Friday, March 21, 2008
The clean disposal
I called my friend who is on bed rest. "Do you clean out your disposal?" She is 33 weeks pregnant. She delivered her first baby at 32 weeks. Her baby was in the hospital for 8 long weeks. They're hoping the baby will keep cooking this time until at least week 35. And now, I'm asking her about her disposal. Crazy question, perhaps. But I don't care. I need the answer. It's not so much about life and death but it is about my life as an insecure woman. The answer just might change my life.
"I put a lemon down it every now and then."
"But you don't fully take it apart and clean it out as well as the inside of your sink? You know, like on a semi-annual basis or maybe even annually?"
"No. Who does that?"
"My dad." Enough said. Now you know what it's all about, don't you? I probably don't need to write any further. But I'm just warming up so I must continue.
My parents came for almost a week over Spring Break, mostly to babysit our boys. My hubby and I got to take off on 2 cheap tickets for four long days to Seattle. We stayed at a lovely hotel in downtown. We walked everywhere except when we took the city bus. In the evenings, they served complimentary Washington wine and set watercolors out on the little tables in case one became inspired. We actually did. Hubby colored a beautiful and fiery mermaid with a chili pepper for a tail. He started making his own beer and needs a name and logo for it. This is one idea. The part I like is that he said I was the model for her (small waist, big hips. I'm finally starting to dig my big hips thanks to my awesome hubby!) I painted a gray whale that looked more like a dolphin. We got to go whale watching and saw gray whales that actually looked more like dinosaurs to me. But I'm no artist, nor a whale expert. But I loved seeing them and I enjoyed sipping my chardonnay and pretending anyway.
This was just one happy part of our Seattle get-away. It was so wonderful that my parents could come and that we could do this. They really are wonderful people. With no family nearby these short but wonderful trips are a must!
They painstakingly named themselves Nana and Boppy for their role as grandparents. There was no way they were going to be called Grandma and Grandpa. Our kiddos are 6 (almost 7) and 3 (getting close to 4.)
The thing about having my parents come though, is that I feel I must get my house in perfect condition. I spent about 3 or maybe 4 weeks getting ready. I don't mean obsessive compulsive 24 hours a day re-painting and fixing drywall; but just a little obsessive compulsive re-organizing. And there is a something about this that I do enjoy. There was the linen closet, going through and getting rid of the boys' too small clothes, the 2 bathrooms, our big walk-in closet, the pantry, the one car garage, the "office" which is one small cupboard with phone books, batteries, mail and the like.
Then I felt like the hall bathroom really needed some new towels and a shower curtain. I also bought this cute clock shaped like a frog. The pendulum is his eyes going back and forth. I decided that our room, where my folks would be staying, looked a little bare on the walls. I do have this great Buddha above the bed. On either side of that are two oval mirrors. The opposite wall has the body of a woman in an ornate dress. My paternal grandmother actually did a rubbing of it in Belgium. The walls needed just a bit more. I had this great idea to fill picture frames with pretty material. I love the material of traditional Chinese dresses and also the Indian Sari material that is shiny and resplendent with gorgeous color. I went to JoAnn and bought several pieces of fabric to frame. Of course, when I filled the frames it reminded me of reading about the people who leave their portraits in the Harry Potter books. Hubby said, "Where did the photos go?" Two of them looked quite nice and are actually hanging now in our room. I have some 8x10 photos that weren't my favorite so I changed out some of the scenery pictures and put some new ones in. Makes for a nice change on the wall.
We also got our house painted about 6 weeks ago. This was something we had wanted to do for a long time. Our house is small and was painted a very cold yet bland gray color. Now it is a bright and earthy red. I love it. Not that we got our house painted for my parents, but I'm glad it was going to be ready for them to see.
I felt I had done enough preparation and we were almost ready to have Nana and Boppy come and stay. I hoped they would feel comfortable at our house. I even had Tommy, our cat, go stay with the neighbors because both of my parents are allergic. But really, I think worse than the allergies is that the last time when they stayed in our room, Tommy came into the master bath at 3 in the morning to either scratch and scratch and scratch in his litter box, or to start choking up a hairball. You really can't blame them, can you?
Of course, the day before Nana and Boppy came was going to be cleaning day (since all of the organization was done!) While the 3 year old was at pre-school, it was going to be a wash and clean fest. All of the towels, the sheets, the floors, the bathroom, etcetera. Oh yeah, did I mention we got a new vacuum? Oh WOW! It is about the most exciting thing EVER, next to going to Disneyland and going on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride with the 7 new Jack Sparrow statues that your little boys are just nuts about! This thing really vacuums, unlike our old one. What a treat. It even gets dog hair off the rug! It really is fantastic. So it's been like Christmas around here.
Unfortunately, the night before cleaning day, I began throwing up. I hate throwing up. It makes me want to cry. In fact I did cry. The 3 year old doesn't even cry when he looses it. The 6 year old who is tough and sensitive doesn't cry either. They're like Obama and I'm like Hillary. Oh well, it was no matter. Really, I am much better about these things. It only happened twice. The boys got off to school the next day and I was able to do the cleaning. Throwing up, fever, and chills are no match for a clean house. It HAD to be clean. This is the mind of the obsessive compulsive. Actually though, I was just a little tired. Which was fine.
My parents complimented the cheery red paint job. They told me I must have worked hard, the house looked so clean. This was nice of them to mention. My dad, especially, does not compliment all that easily.
It was when we came back from our trip that I noticed the kitchen sink was absolutely spotless. Not a blemish within or around it. Never before had my sink been so clean. I think I really could see my reflection in it. Then my mom, said to me, "Liza." She said my name with such seriousness, such finality that even though she has said my name like this to me before, even though I KNOW she has this way of telling me small things quite dramatically, I still think that something really terrible has happened. The cat got eaten by a raccoon at the neighbors. My sister, a terrible driver, was in a horrible car accident and it wasn't even her fault. The pipe in the crawl space burst and they had to pay a ton of money while we were gone to fix it.
"What's wrong, Mom?"
"I got a spoon caught in your disposal. I'm so sorry. Do you want to see it? I kept it so you could see how beat up it got. I don't know what happened, I just didn't know it was down there." She continued to tell me more about the spoon in the disposal. She also mentioned that they put the coffee pot through the dishwasher, she thought I might like to know. Then my dad picked up where she left off and told me how he had to take the disposal apart to get the darned spoon out. How he then cleaned it out. How it was quite a project.
I said, "Wow. That must have been really gross."
My dad said, "A little. It might be a good idea to clean it out every once in a while."
My immediate thought was, Ohmigosh, I'm so lazy. I'm disgusting. I can't believe I didn't clean the disposal AND the coffee pot before they came. I thought I went over everything. I thought I did a GOOD job!
But I had to stop myself. I had to REALLY stop and think about this. These are very familiar thought patterns for me. The organizing and cleaning of the house before they came was NOT all that unusual for me. For them not to notice some of the good things and to remark on the negative things is how we bond. Because then they can say, "Oh, you should have seen what happened to the wall in our bedroom! The crack that just appeared-we had to call the builder of the house!" And we can talk like this for a long time.
What was unusual, was that after talking to my hubby, and thinking about it some more, I realized, that they really don't think I'm lazy or disgusting. That's not what they mean when they tell me these things. They really don't mean to be negative. They really are just trying to help. It's just normal for them to focus on things that need fixing. My dad IS retired after all. Life seems just a little bit different once one is retired. Having a project for my dad is key for his life! However these kinds of interactions are illustrative of times when I start thinking negatively about myself; how I get insecure about how I look, how my house looks, how my material things look. I've been insecure all of my life and I'm tired of it. Just because my parents don't tell me how proud of me they are, how I did such a great job organizing the boys' toy boxes, or whatever doesn't mean I have to focus on those negative things. I think I realized that (again, with the help of my therapist a.k.a. my my husband) it's actually a bit funny that this is how my parents communicate. My mom even mentioned this trip how HER parents never praised their kids and that they didn't want their kids to have "big" heads. But my mom is probably just as insecure as me, perhaps even more so. So isn't it a good thing to tell your kids that you're proud of them? And isn't it important that I have realized this at 31 years old? It could have taken me a lot longer. And what's most important is that I realize that my thought patterns can change. Isn't it wonderful?
The day after my parents left, the boys and I went to visit my bed rest friend. Her mom was staying to help while she had to be on bed rest. My friend told me, "I'm sorry I didn't say more when you called. I had you on speaker phone and my mom was standing right there. But that is EXACTLY something she would say. In fact she told me this morning, "You really should re-grout around the kitchen sink." This to the 33 week pregnant bed rest mom. Geez, are our moms related or what? Maybe it's a generational thing, as well as a retired thing. My friend told me she's not going to worry about it anymore. I'm not either. I'm done being insecure even if my disposal isn't clean.
"I put a lemon down it every now and then."
"But you don't fully take it apart and clean it out as well as the inside of your sink? You know, like on a semi-annual basis or maybe even annually?"
"No. Who does that?"
"My dad." Enough said. Now you know what it's all about, don't you? I probably don't need to write any further. But I'm just warming up so I must continue.
My parents came for almost a week over Spring Break, mostly to babysit our boys. My hubby and I got to take off on 2 cheap tickets for four long days to Seattle. We stayed at a lovely hotel in downtown. We walked everywhere except when we took the city bus. In the evenings, they served complimentary Washington wine and set watercolors out on the little tables in case one became inspired. We actually did. Hubby colored a beautiful and fiery mermaid with a chili pepper for a tail. He started making his own beer and needs a name and logo for it. This is one idea. The part I like is that he said I was the model for her (small waist, big hips. I'm finally starting to dig my big hips thanks to my awesome hubby!) I painted a gray whale that looked more like a dolphin. We got to go whale watching and saw gray whales that actually looked more like dinosaurs to me. But I'm no artist, nor a whale expert. But I loved seeing them and I enjoyed sipping my chardonnay and pretending anyway.
This was just one happy part of our Seattle get-away. It was so wonderful that my parents could come and that we could do this. They really are wonderful people. With no family nearby these short but wonderful trips are a must!
They painstakingly named themselves Nana and Boppy for their role as grandparents. There was no way they were going to be called Grandma and Grandpa. Our kiddos are 6 (almost 7) and 3 (getting close to 4.)
The thing about having my parents come though, is that I feel I must get my house in perfect condition. I spent about 3 or maybe 4 weeks getting ready. I don't mean obsessive compulsive 24 hours a day re-painting and fixing drywall; but just a little obsessive compulsive re-organizing. And there is a something about this that I do enjoy. There was the linen closet, going through and getting rid of the boys' too small clothes, the 2 bathrooms, our big walk-in closet, the pantry, the one car garage, the "office" which is one small cupboard with phone books, batteries, mail and the like.
Then I felt like the hall bathroom really needed some new towels and a shower curtain. I also bought this cute clock shaped like a frog. The pendulum is his eyes going back and forth. I decided that our room, where my folks would be staying, looked a little bare on the walls. I do have this great Buddha above the bed. On either side of that are two oval mirrors. The opposite wall has the body of a woman in an ornate dress. My paternal grandmother actually did a rubbing of it in Belgium. The walls needed just a bit more. I had this great idea to fill picture frames with pretty material. I love the material of traditional Chinese dresses and also the Indian Sari material that is shiny and resplendent with gorgeous color. I went to JoAnn and bought several pieces of fabric to frame. Of course, when I filled the frames it reminded me of reading about the people who leave their portraits in the Harry Potter books. Hubby said, "Where did the photos go?" Two of them looked quite nice and are actually hanging now in our room. I have some 8x10 photos that weren't my favorite so I changed out some of the scenery pictures and put some new ones in. Makes for a nice change on the wall.
We also got our house painted about 6 weeks ago. This was something we had wanted to do for a long time. Our house is small and was painted a very cold yet bland gray color. Now it is a bright and earthy red. I love it. Not that we got our house painted for my parents, but I'm glad it was going to be ready for them to see.
I felt I had done enough preparation and we were almost ready to have Nana and Boppy come and stay. I hoped they would feel comfortable at our house. I even had Tommy, our cat, go stay with the neighbors because both of my parents are allergic. But really, I think worse than the allergies is that the last time when they stayed in our room, Tommy came into the master bath at 3 in the morning to either scratch and scratch and scratch in his litter box, or to start choking up a hairball. You really can't blame them, can you?
Of course, the day before Nana and Boppy came was going to be cleaning day (since all of the organization was done!) While the 3 year old was at pre-school, it was going to be a wash and clean fest. All of the towels, the sheets, the floors, the bathroom, etcetera. Oh yeah, did I mention we got a new vacuum? Oh WOW! It is about the most exciting thing EVER, next to going to Disneyland and going on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride with the 7 new Jack Sparrow statues that your little boys are just nuts about! This thing really vacuums, unlike our old one. What a treat. It even gets dog hair off the rug! It really is fantastic. So it's been like Christmas around here.
Unfortunately, the night before cleaning day, I began throwing up. I hate throwing up. It makes me want to cry. In fact I did cry. The 3 year old doesn't even cry when he looses it. The 6 year old who is tough and sensitive doesn't cry either. They're like Obama and I'm like Hillary. Oh well, it was no matter. Really, I am much better about these things. It only happened twice. The boys got off to school the next day and I was able to do the cleaning. Throwing up, fever, and chills are no match for a clean house. It HAD to be clean. This is the mind of the obsessive compulsive. Actually though, I was just a little tired. Which was fine.
My parents complimented the cheery red paint job. They told me I must have worked hard, the house looked so clean. This was nice of them to mention. My dad, especially, does not compliment all that easily.
It was when we came back from our trip that I noticed the kitchen sink was absolutely spotless. Not a blemish within or around it. Never before had my sink been so clean. I think I really could see my reflection in it. Then my mom, said to me, "Liza." She said my name with such seriousness, such finality that even though she has said my name like this to me before, even though I KNOW she has this way of telling me small things quite dramatically, I still think that something really terrible has happened. The cat got eaten by a raccoon at the neighbors. My sister, a terrible driver, was in a horrible car accident and it wasn't even her fault. The pipe in the crawl space burst and they had to pay a ton of money while we were gone to fix it.
"What's wrong, Mom?"
"I got a spoon caught in your disposal. I'm so sorry. Do you want to see it? I kept it so you could see how beat up it got. I don't know what happened, I just didn't know it was down there." She continued to tell me more about the spoon in the disposal. She also mentioned that they put the coffee pot through the dishwasher, she thought I might like to know. Then my dad picked up where she left off and told me how he had to take the disposal apart to get the darned spoon out. How he then cleaned it out. How it was quite a project.
I said, "Wow. That must have been really gross."
My dad said, "A little. It might be a good idea to clean it out every once in a while."
My immediate thought was, Ohmigosh, I'm so lazy. I'm disgusting. I can't believe I didn't clean the disposal AND the coffee pot before they came. I thought I went over everything. I thought I did a GOOD job!
But I had to stop myself. I had to REALLY stop and think about this. These are very familiar thought patterns for me. The organizing and cleaning of the house before they came was NOT all that unusual for me. For them not to notice some of the good things and to remark on the negative things is how we bond. Because then they can say, "Oh, you should have seen what happened to the wall in our bedroom! The crack that just appeared-we had to call the builder of the house!" And we can talk like this for a long time.
What was unusual, was that after talking to my hubby, and thinking about it some more, I realized, that they really don't think I'm lazy or disgusting. That's not what they mean when they tell me these things. They really don't mean to be negative. They really are just trying to help. It's just normal for them to focus on things that need fixing. My dad IS retired after all. Life seems just a little bit different once one is retired. Having a project for my dad is key for his life! However these kinds of interactions are illustrative of times when I start thinking negatively about myself; how I get insecure about how I look, how my house looks, how my material things look. I've been insecure all of my life and I'm tired of it. Just because my parents don't tell me how proud of me they are, how I did such a great job organizing the boys' toy boxes, or whatever doesn't mean I have to focus on those negative things. I think I realized that (again, with the help of my therapist a.k.a. my my husband) it's actually a bit funny that this is how my parents communicate. My mom even mentioned this trip how HER parents never praised their kids and that they didn't want their kids to have "big" heads. But my mom is probably just as insecure as me, perhaps even more so. So isn't it a good thing to tell your kids that you're proud of them? And isn't it important that I have realized this at 31 years old? It could have taken me a lot longer. And what's most important is that I realize that my thought patterns can change. Isn't it wonderful?
The day after my parents left, the boys and I went to visit my bed rest friend. Her mom was staying to help while she had to be on bed rest. My friend told me, "I'm sorry I didn't say more when you called. I had you on speaker phone and my mom was standing right there. But that is EXACTLY something she would say. In fact she told me this morning, "You really should re-grout around the kitchen sink." This to the 33 week pregnant bed rest mom. Geez, are our moms related or what? Maybe it's a generational thing, as well as a retired thing. My friend told me she's not going to worry about it anymore. I'm not either. I'm done being insecure even if my disposal isn't clean.
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