Archive for September, 2009

The Drawer Pull Dilemma…

September 29, 2009

So I  have started waking up frequently at night to: pee, eat, drink, take a bath and read… it is amazing the strange thoughts that one has when awake in the middle of the night.

Last night I was taking a bath and began staring at the drawers underneath our bathroom sinks. I have lived in this house for  about four years and realized that the builders decided not to add knobs to the fake drawers under the sinks. Is this normal? Our other bathrooms don’t have drawers so I had nothing to compare it to (I had to go look at all the other bathrooms sopping wet  in a towel because it couldn’t wait until my bath was done.) Did they decide to spare the homeowners the irritation of constantly pulling on pretend drawers, or did they just forget or decide not to bother? Could I find these hideous gold pulls somewhere or should this be my push to get new ones?

This is about as deep as it gets right now folks… oh drawer pulls and how to get Kay to fetch like Abby (the retrieve without the slobber would be fabulous!)


I Totally Owe Neil Diamond…

September 18, 2009

As I get closer to Fi’s arrival (and my hormones sky rocket) I find myself reminiscing about meeting Patrick in college. It’s funny how events, especially the life altering ones, come about and how so many of them are a result of mistakes.

Patrick and his buddies had decided to move into a four year dorm- mostly for the freshman girls. But unfortunately, they didn’t look closely at the changes that were occuring with housing and Flo Mo (the one they put as first choice) had been designated for the following year as the dorky dorm At the same time that they were screwing up their housing, I was applying for Stanford’s SLE Program which stood for Structured Liberal Education or “Communists and Dorks “R” Us”. A group of freshman who would study together, live together and endure a fascist stigma for the remainder of their time at Stanford.

Several weeks and bad hook ups with a football player later, I was walking through my dorm when the fabulous song “Coming to America” streamed down the hall. Clearly whoever the hip and fabulous person playing Neil Diamon was needed to be my friend. I literally went from one door to the next, holding my ear up to the door in an attempt to locate its source.  Finally I figured out where it was coming from and knocked.

Patrick emerged in all his frat boy glory from a filthy room. He was wearing a wrinkled button down with cigarettes in the front pocket and hair that nearly rivaled my 80’s do. I think I said something creative like “That’s Neil!” and blinked a couple of times. What really made an impression on me though was that this guy was invading my personal space and it was totally unsettling.

We met up at a Sigma Chi party later that night where he kissed me in front of my friends when I greeted him and here we are almost eight years later, married with almost two kids and a butt-load of pets. How different would my life be if it  wasn’t for Neil!?

Peace Without the Puke…

September 15, 2009

So my anxiety has just been through the roof the past week or two… I feel like a failure. A bad mom, a bad wife- just sort of a waste of space in general. I think that being surrounded by women who do such a great job generating human beings doesn’t help things either.

When I was younger I had this image of myself as a beautiful pregnant woman who was full of energy and enjoying every second involved in making a little human being. WHERE THE HELL IS THAT WOMAN HIDING?! My niece got her first period on Sunday and while I am excited that she is growing up, all I can think about is how  cursed she’s going to be when it comes to making babies. HG runs in my fmaily and the chances of her getting to enjoy those nine months are slim.

I keep thinking I could not be having a worse pregnancy between the HG, and the vericose veins and the gestational diabetes. Then I remember that my foot was broken in three places at this point in my pregnancy with Kay. How quickly we lose perspective.

But the one thing that was a blessing in the first five months of puking, needles, nurses and tubes was that I was completely accepting of myself. I was so proud of myself during the beginning of this pregnancy for just breathing and not jumping off some tall building. I was more than satisfied with simply existing and I had promised myself I would hold onto that feeling of worthiness. Clearly, that didn’t happen.

My goal for the next couple of days, okay maybe just hours, is to simply accept myself and realize that to be is enough. Would I trade the anxiety and OCD in for nausea and vomiting?  No, but can’t I have peace without the puke?

Do Plants Need People?

September 10, 2009

My mom has been an addict of some sort or another since I was five- alcohol, pain killers (she could teach House a thing or two about getting pills), Xanax… she even tried smoking weed once but couldn’t inhale deep enough because of her asthma.

I believed until almost three years ago that it was my calling to save her much to my own detriment. Then I started seeing a fabulous therapist, Dr. G,   and he told me to start focusing on my own family the fetus I was growing. At this point my lovely mother had been in two rehabs in 3 months and almost burned our house down. So I got a plant aand named it Jill (my mom’s name)- I took care of it like my life depended on this plant surviving.

It’s just a basic house plant, the kind you would see in an office.  It has long green leaves and every couple of months, one or two white blossoms bloom and leave fine white pollen all over the wall and the floor. Despite my best efforts, the cats bite at the leaves and so they are all jagged and not very pretty.

I was gone for three weeks in July and honesrly worried as much about Jill as I did my animals. I thought for sure without my diligent care and attention that she was going to die but she ended up being just fine. She was a little droopy and dry but after 15 minutes being watered in the sink, she perked right up and was just fine.  I wasn’t disappointed at all that she had survived without me, she didn’t thrive but she didn’t die either. I still water Jill and talk to her all the time but the pressure is off and I am enjoying her quite a bit more since it’s not life and death anymore. (Yes, I know it’s a plant and yes, I am on medication.)

My mom sent me a letter last week and she has been sober for six months now. She goes to church, attends meetings, and her apartment is clean. (I will leave the hoarding for another day.) One of my sisters even visited her a couple of weeks ago and had a glowing report.

And my mom has accomplished all of this without any help from me whatsoever. I have talked to her maybe five times in the last six months and sent her a couple  of cards. So Dr. G was right that I really did need to focus on my husband and 2 2/3 kids and Mom is great, much better than she was when she had my “help.”

So I guess Jill and Jill have more in common that just their names- neither of them needed me as much as I thought they did. Hallelujah!

Hopefully the First of Many…

September 9, 2009

I am starting yet another blog, and hopefully this will be the first of many regular entries. I figure if I am going to compulsively get 0n my computer, I might as well actually be produuctive and write. I have a ton of  memories in bubbles on a piece of construction paper just waiting to be given life, and even though many are PG-13 (that’s being  generous) I figure they should be shared. I feel like they will be useful if for no other reason than to show readers a person can always come home again no matter how far off they wander.

For those that are reading this and panicking (I’m sure there are a couple of you out there), d0n’t worry- names will be changed and certain involved parties will be protected, whether or not they deserve it. I know that everyone’s life has gone on and some of us are even bigger and better than we used to be (especially considering I have less that three months to go before Fi makes her grand entrance.)

So here we go…