Burning Desires -
2006-02-01 - 9:18 p.m.
I would like the time to post, OK, just a quickie. I WANT to tell you about Cassady's very sweet Kindergarten crush complete with hidden valentines and a little girl who's name he can't say without blushing! I can, and if you are reading this Olivia, please let him down gently honey.
While he has just started exploring the tender age of 6 I have just come to the stunning realization that every crush he experiences for the next 30 or so years will probably break my heart as well as his. Really, who will be good enough for my son? and damn it! Why doesn't that evil bitch want him! Doesn't she know how great he is? There is a lot riding on poor Cassady and his someday possible future mates shoulders. I don't have a daughter and I will have to settle for the one he marries being my big shot at girlie things. I'm not even good at girlie things, but knowing I don't have them gives me a burning desire to experience them that I can't explain.
*Please note: The above entry is what happens when I need a tiny bit of rant time and none of my good friends have called recently so I can go ahead and lay it on them.
In which I awkwardly approach the topic of religion -
2006-01-12 - 1:16 p.m.
We have had exactly one official play date this fall, and it was with the delightful Zach, short for Zachariah which doesn’t seem nearly as unusual if you consider the fact that his parents are missionaries. In Sudan…Africa, you know, that place on the news all the time lately where all the minorities are “living” in camps and the men can’t leave to gather food or water or they will be murdered, they send the women instead…since they just get raped. I actually thought I might do a whole blog entry about the play date but you know, I’m pretty sure upon reflection that I’m not qualified.
I’m a Unitarian, now stop it, all those crazy stories your priest told you aren’t true. We aren’t a cult, and it’s not true we “don’t believe in anything”. We are just allowed to spend all the time we need in figuring out what we do believe in and hey, in the meantime we pledge to be all accepting of other belief systems and good people and supportive etc. etc. So I have spent pretty much the last 20 odd years trying to figure out if I believe in anything on the spiritual plane and they believe so fervently they MOVED THEIR WHOLE FAMILY TO THE SUDAN. So although the non-believer in me wants to write a little about how I feel about it I’m oddly impressed by their ability to put it out there. There are Christians and there are christians…and these people are CHRISTIANS in all caps, putting it all out there for a belief system I can’t begin to understand.
2006-01-04 - 10:00 p.m.
Yet more evidence that despite my mother trying to raise me right, apparently she failed.
1. Why didn’t they tell me “Parent Orientation" is code for “dress up to impress all the other mommies day”? I showed up in clean clothes, clothes that fit and had no visible stains, towing my 1 ½ year old. The literature claimed younger siblings were OK, but I was the only one there chasing a baby around the room. The other moms showed up as mothers immaculate. Expensive haircuts, some of those $100 jeans and spiky shoes that the What not to Wear folks would have approved of…I wore Birkenstocks. I crawled through the lecture, I fended off dirty looks from the speakers when my child screeched with the torture of being caught, I changed a poopy just inches from a pair of $250 boots. I looked around in case my new soul-mate was sitting there ready to give me an encouraging smile, but someone must have forgotten to tell her about the meeting.
2. Nobody actually wants to talk about religion unless they are the type that is trying to convert you. There isn’t any middle ground, I mean, if somebody tells you they are a missionary wouldn’t you be curious? Maybe want to know what they are up to? Is the goal to convert the godless Muslims? I guess it’s the wrong god Muslims or the “their god isn’t our god Muslims” or is the goal to say, save the lives of the children living in the impoverished area by helping them dig wells and provide them with clean drinking water. NO! I did not put it that way…I just thought it and then politely asked what they do. People were amazed that I didn’t know, come on…don’t pretend you know what a missionary in the Sudan does all day…don’t you wonder just a little?
3. Cute anecdotes are dangerous. I’m telling Cassady’s kindergarten teacher how funny his big word mix-ups are when they completely change the tone of what he is saying. For instance, revolution…evolution…and her face, which has been a picture of determined cheer falters and freezes. Crap! Some parent just said evolution in her classroom. She smiles with a frozen faced grin, seeing her career flashing before her eyes and says “Oh! We don’t get into the whole intelligent design/evolution debate in kindergarten!” Giant silence fills the room and the other parents look at me. Huh? Holy crud I’m talking about the Beatles and fossils here.
They found something they always wanted -
2005-11-16 - 9:02 p.m.
So it's been a while, it's been a really long while. To top that off...this will be short. We moved, we moved and I packed every box that came, and I'm still unpacking 3 months later. I have had a few requests to start posting again so I thought I would make an effort.
Quote of the day "Hey! They found something that they always wanted, the found something that they loved!" Said very clearly by 6 year old Cassady who was soundly asleep at the time. I was
Night, KarenAll over the place -
2005-06-10 - 6:24 p.m.
I don’t believe in psychics, but I want to. Or as an alternate title: The post that rambles all over the place kind of like me today.
Right now I am a type A fixer personality living with too much unknown in her life. If you can’t define it, you can’t fix it. If you are me, this is completely unacceptable. I am a maker of lists and they have always saved me. I used to believe I could make a list that could solve almost anything. You could always start a list with “apologize abjectly to wronged friend” or “admit poverty to the bursar” and those at the top were almost always willing to help you fill in the rest of the items needed to solve the dilemma. When I am mid-list and quickly do a task not on the list but necessary, I write it on the list and immediately cross it off. It just feels good.
I haven’t found anyone who will help me make a Mason list; it just makes the nice therapists sad when I ask. I have asked, in several different ways but they always gently push me back towards the shore before I head out into either the ocean of hope or the sea of despair. I did almost everything from the “Sell Your House!” list from the newspaper and despite the fresh scent, bountiful curb appeal and the decluttered closets we remain unsold.
Less terrifying but they give me something to pick at when I can’t obsess about Mason or selling the house any more:
-Alienating my friends with my incessant neediness right now (see, there I go again!)
-Moving to a town where the one person I know who truly has a burning hatred of me lives. Truly…it burns, but considering she also seems to hate many other things I should learn to move past this.
-My weight, it’s amazing but apparently when I can’t control anything else in my life I have latched onto the one thing I possibly can and dropped 20 pounds.
-We just switched to literally the worst health insurance you can have before not having any. I have told 3 medical providers who we changed to and without exception they all looked very concerned and murmured things like “I’m so sorry”. Me too.
Today Cass was telling me about his new super power, nothing could hurt him. I was trying to explain to him how sometimes things have to suck a little, hurt a little and how if you are all hot and sweaty the cold glass of water isn’t as sweet…yeah, I caught myself in my own whine-athon.
OK…let’s say it together…breathe and count my blessings. Beautiful, living, loving children…good husband…we have insurance even if it sucks…don’t backslide…flowers blooming outside…Cass learning to read…Mason learning to sign his needs…and friends who are still willing to listen to my rants after all this time.
That wasn’t so hard after all. Life is good..and now, I look out the window and see that Cassady is running buck naked through the yard, soaking wet with the hose on and feel that it would be a good time to stop typing, and start parenting.
Have a good weekend.
1 part paint thinner, 1 part desperation -
2005-06-03 - 4:25 p.m.
Handy Hint of the Day 2:
If your real estate agent says “Your house will sell immediately”. Heck, if several real estate agents say the same thing realize…they want your business. They absolutely WILL flatter you and your home in order to get the job. If they say you won’t need an open house, you don’t need to change a thing and there isn’t anything on the market remotely close to your home, look at them funny and consider the source.
There is always the possibility that 3 weeks later when your home has failed to get a second showing at all, let alone an offer they might say, “well, when I did the market analysis there WASN’T anything like it on the market and now there is.” The market is “a little stiff and an open house might help”.
Sunday, all my neighbors get a chance to peek in my closets and critique my dusting.
In other news, I am actually considering a decorative glaze job on the downstairs bathroom wallpaper, which yes, I know sounds ridiculous but desperate times and all that poetic nonsense drives me forward.
All things mucus -
2005-05-25 - 12:15 p.m.
Handy Hint of the Day:
If your dog has fatty tumors and your “expert at avoidance” husband says, “I think there is something wrong with one of them!” Run the other way. Tell him girls don’t do fatty tumors. Say anything you have to say so that you don’t have to deal with an exploding lump of what appeared to be bloody mucus covered “fat worms” emerging from your dogs lump.
Run I say. Run.
P.S. Children, of course, are strongly drawn to all things involving blood, mucus or worms.
2005-05-19 - 8:52 a.m.
Things that in Theory are Easy, Part II
The plumber, who has known us and bailed our butts out (both figuratively and literally) is coming to fix the sink. I know in the past I have promised Dave the plumber that I would NOT let Mike work on the plumbing in our house but I faltered. * Mike claimed so could do it…he tried…now the plumber cometh.
The plumber and his adorable helper Chris are friendly and we have a good relationship. Heck, he was here when I was in labor with Cassady and he and his wife (who used to answer the phones) sent me flowers in the hospital. So Karen, friendly SAHM is going to do small talk with these two guys!
So I say: “Hey Dave, it sounds like you have a secretary now! You must be really busy, giving your wife some free time?”
Dave the plumber: “Who me? I’m not married.”
DTP: “I got divorced almost two years ago. She was cheating. She left me for another man. She got the house. The house my grandfather built and lives in it with her boyfriend who will never marry her because then I don't have to pay her alimony forever.”
Me (after prying foot out of mouth): “I’m so sorry, that sucks. I told Mike I would kill him if he ever cheated on me.”
Me: “So Chris, last time you were here you mentioned that you and your wife were working on starting a family! How’s that going?”
Chris the adorable assistant: “We are on our second cycle of IVF. We both quit smoking.”
Me: “I know a lot of couples who have gone through that, it’s really hard. Eventually it really works out for most of them.”
Me saying a really stupid thing (yes stupider than the prior things): “So did Dave give you a big raise to help out? IVF is expensive”
Dave and Chris eye each other and another really awkward silence ensues.
So that would be no then.
Later they seriously both pull me aside to indicate that the other guy really doesn’t understand him and they just don’t talk. They spend 8 hours a day alone together and have done so for 8 years. By now, two women would know each others birth stories, shoe sizes, what kind of feminine hygiene products the other uses and their family tree back to when grandma and grandpa arrived in the new world.
Now…I will launch into a rendition of “I’m a little ray of sunshine!”
*Everybody is good at something. Mike is good at family/daddy type stuff, grills a mean portabella and excels with research/computer type stuff. All of which have nothing to do with plumbing.
2005-05-18 - 8:23 a.m.
A friend sent me this announcement as something she thought I might be interested in, or possibly, she was just being funny in an unusually cruel sort of way.
History as Culture and Vice Versa: Marshall Sahlins @ Left of Center Bookstore Thursday night.
Really, how interesting that would be! As soon as my house is immaculate, I locate a buyer, negotiate the contract on the new house, work in the studio enough to restock all my art, get Mason’s therapy done for the week, let the plumber in to fix the suddenly leaking sink, let the contractor in to replace the door that leads to the rotting needs to be removed deck, visit the friend with the new baby, visit the friend who’s baby we gave the hideous croup to that landed them in the hospital, take the dog to the vet and cook a meal or two so that the stove doesn’t die of disuse I will be there. Right on it…maybe after I start the next load of laundry.
2005-05-13 - 6:11 a.m.
A friend convinced Cass that mommies all go to “mommy school” and thus have been taught all the right answers. So when he asks for the 36th time if it’s really necessary to eat broccoli you say “It’s the very first thing they taught me in mommy school. I got an A on that test!” He is definitely giving me the “I believe you are so full of crap but I’m not quite sure” look. So I smile serenely and soldier on.
Questions even mommy school didn’t prepare me for:
Do nematodes drink pineapple juice?
If you could be any Pokemon, which one would you be?
How about a sea creature, which one that isn’t a mammal would you be?
How come some daddies don’t love their babies?
Will I make friends at our new house? Yes. What kind? How many? Boys or girls? Will they be allowed to watch Spiderman? Will their mom buy them Kool-Aid? Will they have me over for playdates? Will my friends now still be my friends if I move?
Here is what I think.
Nematodes have precious little chance of someone ever offering them juice. Pineapple or otherwise.
The yellow guy.
Something spiny and colorful.
They aren’t really daddies, not really.
Yes, the good kind, a lot, both boys and girls, probably, probably but I still won’t, eventually and for a while. I hope that by the time they have forgotten you that you have moved on too.
I figure I’m about at a c+.
* * * * * *Things that in theory, are easy. -
2005-05-02 - 10:36 a.m.
Things that should be easy, but you realized later were doomed to well, distinct unease on somebody’s part.
The set up, semi-innocent vegetarian attempts to buy joke gift of McDonalds Gift Certificates.
I pull up and immediately notice a big promotional sign involving $5 gift cards, being a fool, I decide to follow the advertising and ask for the gift card.
Me: “Hi, can I have a $5 gift card please?”
Happy Birthday George. Ha ha ha.