Conversations With A Nice Lady

Over Tired ... and probably less than coherent

2012-01-07T21:16:00.000-08:00

My insomnia is back with a vengeance lately. Asleep by 8ish, awake from 2-4am - or thereabouts. Sleep from 4-5ish.I had a Palm Reading recently; my innate caregiver tendencies, struggle for balance between responsibility and creativity, and need for spiritual growth - a searching spirit - was just more fodder for being comfortable in my skin and taking this journey to the next level.Dreams have always been the medium in which I've processed information that isn't ...scientific... Things like knowing and visions - the kinds of abilities that not everyone has. In a recent dream, I was visited by a very handsome doctor who told me to get to the skin doc to have my dark spots checked out. Omen or fear? When I'm awake in the night, I read, read, read. Thanks to Wood and his so generous Christmas gift of a Kindle Touch. I've read "Room", and have been reading "The Sayings of Confucius", "Strange Relation: A Memoir of Marriage, Dementia, and Poetry", "The Runner's Guide to the Meaning of Life", and most intently, "Wicca for Beginners: Fundamentals of Philosophy & Practice (For Beginners (Llewellyn's))".In reading and practicing a technique described in Wicca for Beginners, it's clear that I'm on the right path. It's always been clear that I'm on the right path. But lately the path has been wide and without roadblocks. The energy is there and I'm able to travel with it easily, harnessing it everywhere I go. Even when I'm exhausted from being awake in the middle of the night reading, reading, reading. Good night.

What I Really Want for Christmas

2011-12-11T05:48:00.001-08:00

Dear Universe,

I know you're a bit different than Santa but I just have to try. We have been ripping and roaring for a while now and it's catching up to us. Wood and I both had steep throat a couple of weeks ago and yesterday I yanked my back something fierce. We are so overdone that our health is starting to take a hit and we can't have that! We need a couple of minutes to catch up and catch our breath.

Lately it has been one thing after another, one BIG thing after another, and by after another I mean stacked on top of one another. I can handle only 1 thing at a time and I can't power through like I once did. So, I need your help.

Yes, I know it's the holidays and that makes everything move more quickly. And that you're really busy. It's just that we can't move any faster than we already do. Can you help keep our stuff together and quiet for a while? Work, kid, gramma, house, cars, finances, etc. I don't want to be greedy but having everything be a bit boring would be nice for a change.

We need a break, please. We need rest. Relaxation. No illnesses. The opportunity to catch up with family, connect with friends new and old, do our jobs, meet our financial obligations and be present in our lives. To slow down and see this world a bit. The finished product will be so much better.

Thank you for your time and consideration, universe!

Love,

Wonelle

Saturday Blues

2011-12-10T16:52:00.001-08:00

I wrote a great post from my phone this morning but it got lost before it was published. Since it was before 6am when I was writing, I can't even remember what I wrote about. Our rental property has had me busy most of the weekend. Weatherstripping, nuts and bolts, screwing doors shut. Today was labeling "trash" in the yard (more on the quotation marks later), cleaning up, organizing people to do work, and throwing my back out. Yep, when I was wrestling with the gate my back tweaked and I'm in a not so good way right now. Two Aleve and I'm able to walk, drive, pick up light objects, etc. but lifting my suitcase tomorrow is going to be a bit of a challenge. I'm already planning for asking a lot of strangers for assistance. Being with friends is good. Very, very good. Familiar, warm, comfortable. But being in the city isn't as good as I remember. Drivers are more agressive than I remember, people aren't as warm - heck, half of them don't even look you in the eye. It's a stark transition from the new life we lead in a sleepy small town that has only smatterings of real city life. It's a bit embarrassing, to be so acutely aware of and disgusted by how focused I feel I have to be here. How so much of what is good about the city that I love is also so bad about it. How soft we've become in our new environment. I run at 5am, in the dark, alone. And I don't feel afraid. I'm aware that I probably should be afraid. That if I were in Oakland I wouldn't even consider running alone in the dark. At any time of the day. I just remembered what this mornings post was about: Cold - how I was not warm and fuzzy with my tenant during this signing of the new lease. How my voice waivered and crackled in the beginning but after a few minutes of her not engaging I was able to move through the process as quickly as possible. How thought, I didn't leave anything unturned - every light switch, every lock, every faucet was tested. Every everything (mostly) was documented. I wasn't mean but I was cold. You know that saying "you

The Right Direction

2011-12-09T11:38:00.001-08:00

I continue to mourn the changes we've experienced over the past year. Things like a great boss and an opportunity for advancment, having close friends and family close by, knowing how to get to just about anywhere in the area. But, being home, in my home, that I rent to someone else now, has helped to solidify that I am totally okay with the moves we've made. I don't miss our house as much as it the idea of our home and things like a great boss, close friends and family close by. The truth is, I'm okay with the house being an investment instead of being invested in it. I'm still mad about a few things but they really don't matter. My ego is loosening up a little. And it and my dreams are reminding me that we're on the right path, the right journey - home.

Going Away, Coming Home

2011-12-08T21:39:00.001-08:00

The last few weeks, it seems like weeks since I last wrote for pleasure, (not that posting from my phone is really writing), I have had an active dream life. I'm not certain what most of the dreams have been about. But a few have been intense dreams that have made my head a bit electric - like there's electricity pulsing through my entire brain, sending a message of warning: this is very important so don't forget.Last night was particularly intense as well. Mostly because it was a dream about Wood and I, and our ability to go away and reconnect in the most challenging of circumstances. In this dream, I became interested in another person - began dating that person even, and in the end, Wood gladly took me back. I wanted to be back, not because the other person wasn't good. But because Wood is my soulmate. It was a sad and frightening dream with a good ending. Hopefully I can remember the details when I have some time to write again. I'm traveling alone for the weekend to take care of business. It's nice to have some space from my life, and be with friends, although this work part of my life is hard, too.I wanted to remind myself here to do a writing exercise in the future. It is writing a letter to my 16 year old self. Giving some advice. The dream, my work here, and the exercise have one common theme:You can never really go back. Home is where you are.

Do You Even Like Sandwiches?

2011-11-27T03:50:00.001-08:00

Wood and I finally had sex outside of the bathroom. I'm not mad anymore. But I do feel like hell.

I've been sick. Wood started it, actually, with a sore throat the Friday before last. He sat around the house all weekend watching TV as I did my best to stick with my regular activities like shopping for groceries, taking a pot of homemade Kale and White Bean soup to a friend who's sick and whose live-in Mother In Law is home from the hospital on Hospice, and trying to get the boy some needed friend/skateboard park time. Basically, staying away from home and my Mother In Law as much as possible.

By Monday my throat didn't feel right and I couldn't go to work. I didn't want to infect anyone with my germs as lots has been floating around there lately and despite the fact that taking time off that I don't have will only add to the multitude of things at my office that are, in many ways, much harder than things at home, Wood stayed home too - and if he's staying home from work it's a serious germ we're fighting - and we both needed the rest.

Except for the fact that I forgot to call and reserve Grandma's bus for her ride to and from her day program, and Twig's school is on break for Parent/Teacher Conferences and the Thankgsgiving holiday so he needed to be dropped off at a different location than usual...

By mid morning on Tuesday I had a fever of 102.2 that had no intention of doing anything but rising. So, I promptly picked up the phone and made the next available appointment with my doctor.

Strep. Damned 1st Graders with their germy little hands that never get washed properly, touch everything with no regard for what has just been touched, and then put their hands in their mouths! Good news is that during my doctor's visit, Wood's symptoms were addressed and we both got antibiotics. And, we discussed with the doctor a little scrape on Twigs face that had turned into something else entirely. Given Strep in the house, we took Twig to his doctor that afternoon and got his scrape that had become infected plus Strep and/or Staph treated, too.

All of these Wednesday doctor visits meant no Thanksgiving with friends as we had planned. Which is sad. We don't have any fun anymore.

Our evenings are spent catching up from the day. We get home at about 6pm and rush to get dinner ready (Twig is having behavioral issues because he's low blood sugar and Grandma is staring or wiggling her foot anxiously because the time says 6pm and that's when she wants to eat dinner) and the dishes done (if we're lucky), bath (if we're lucky), reading, bed at a reasonable hour.

Typically, we both collapse at about 8 from sheer exhaustion from the day. Wood in Twigs bed after reading Harry Potter, me on the couch. Sometimes Wood makes it to our bed. If he does, I'm usually beckoned to Twigs bed. Or too exhausted to move from the couch. (I'm so becoming my mother)

Mornings are spent cooking breakfast and lunch, cleaning up from dinner, trying to talk about the day (if anybody wants to say more than "fine" or "okay" about it), and attempting to get out of the house so that the kid gets to school on time and at least one adult makes it, by public transportation, to their paying job on time.

Weekends are spent taking care of the regular household activities that all full-time working families with young children and no live-in nanny/maid service have to take care of - grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry, bill paying, yard work, considering the future. Then there's our second child - Grandma - fill the med containers, order more meds, ensure she's taken her shower, bills, Medicare, doctor appointments, grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry, bill paying, get her to church, reserve bus rides.

Two big fat slices of bread is what they are. Wood and I are sandwiched between everything THEM. There's no lettuce, tomato, onion, or special sauce on this sandwich. Heck, it's not even high end bread these days.

Twig has been getting lost in the shuffle. It's not new that his needs don't always get taken care of. In some respects, that's the life of a child, right? I mean the life of a child whose parents are working-class (even if it is white collar working class) and have lots of responsibility. We aren't doctors, we don't have nannies, maids, enough money to buy everything we or our kid wants - we can get what we need like good food, a nice place to live, two old and paid for cars and a couple of dinners out a month. We can't take Disneyland vacations (any vacations, it seems). I mean, we can't just throw money at it. We spent money we didn't have to protect what little we had and now we're in a hole of debt. I can't help think that if money weren't a thing that we had to consider, our lives would be easier and we would be happier. I'd pay for stuff to be done for me and I'd have the time and space to enjoy life a bit. Well, that's what it seems like when I look at the family I just described and their world looks hunky-fucking-dory. Like they're actually enjoying their kids and spouse - their lives.

But back to Twig. He's acting out the feelings of his self-absorbed, exhausted, overworked, unhappy parents.

He overreacts when he doesn't get his way. He yells and screams when he should talk. He ignores when he should attentively listen. He jumps to conclusions instead of hearing the intent of the message. He slams the door or his fist for effect, to send a signal. He checks out of a discussion because it's too hard. He's the victim instead of an active participant. He gets hot and can't cool himself down. He has good days and then really, really bad days.

It's all my fault. Twenty minutes after the pregnancy test came back positive I asked "Who do you think you are that you can have a child? That you can do this and do this well? What makes you think you have what it takes?" The voice in my head now tells me I also made the wrong decisions about my husband, my job, my career, my friends, my family.

I don't like my husband when he's constantly on Twig's case about insignificant things, say spilling a glass of milk, that can easily be fixed. When he overreacts. I really can't stand it when he tries to tease me and make light of a situation and it feels like a personal attack. That I hear everything that comes out of his mouth as a discounting of what, in particular, Twig feels about something. I hate having a job that is so intense it zaps all of my energy and dries me up before 5pm, knowing that we can't get by without my full-time income and that I'm priced out of the market to get a comparable paying job elsewhere. What was I thinking getting a degree in Social Work? - money is important! I wish I had more time to invest in my relationships outside my immediate family, that I wasn't convinced my child hates me (or that he has good reason); that I felt smart enough or skilled enough to be able to do anything well, much less enjoy life these days.

I'm assuming that because we live with an old woman and a young child that are equally dependent on us for survival that the stress is getting to me. Seems reasonable, right? Yeah. Whatever.

As I re-read this post, I get it more than ever - my part, Wood's part, grandma's part and Twig's part. We just haven't slowed down enough to look at it, to give it the time and attention in needs. I've been up at 2am every night this week not because I've been sick. Oh, I've had Strep throat and Insomnia for sure - but I've been awake also because I've needed the time to think through the things that my husband and I need to address in our personal, married, and family lives - right now - Twig's screaming at at both of us:

THIS STINKS!

Yes baby, I hear you loud and clear.

THE SANDWICH IS STARTING TO SPOIL!

Yeah, kiddo, we don't want to eat it - bad food makes us sick.

Mommy's on it. And Daddy will be on it too.

ROBBED!

2011-10-25T18:46:00.001-07:00

Every now and then, the universe offers itself to you so that you can get a touch, just a touch, of what you need and want.

Today, serendipitously, I left work early to pick Twig up from school. At exactly the same time I was leaving to catch the bus, Wood called. He, too, was leaving work to pick up Twig from school. SCORE! Grandma was still at program and we had the house to ourselves for an hour or so.

TMI Alert!

Being alone in the house for an hour means one thing and one thing only: S-E-X!

Wood takes Twig off to his ballet class and I stay home to finish vacuuming the living room. About 15 minutes later, about 4:10pm Wood comes home. Together we finish vacuuming and rearranging the living room. At about 4:15 he looks out the kitchen window and sees GRANDMA's BUS!

DAMN-IT! She was picked up 15 minutes early and home within minutes of her pick-up time.

We were robbed!

M A D

2011-10-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

I just realized that my last post "On Being Needed" didn't get published. I believe I had written about all of the things that I want to do every day. How I wanted to exercise, write, spend time with my son, husband, travel. It ended with something like "Right after I make breakfast." That the post didn't get published makes me mad.

The fact that I'm living with my Mother In Law makes me M A D. Her wants and needs are paramount to anything else that's happening. Her need to eat. Her incorrect thought that eating more will somehow make her constipation better. The conversation, almost daily, that she doesn't need 2 breakfasts every day, that bread will cause her stomach problems. Her medicine, doctors appointments, dermatitis that requires special shampoo, the fact that we have to give her reminders to take a shower and wash her clothes. Her pissy attitude about those reminders. Her legal issues, financial problems, that she wants to go out and make new friends. The fact that she doesn't talk to us except to say "Yes" or "No" or ask questions about her medicine, food, doctors appointments... Please don't take this the wrong way. She is allowed to have wants and needs. But, her "filter" doesn't work correctly so "it" is always about her. Grr.

The tenant who we rented our house to stopped paying her rent a while back. We had to take her to court and spend lots of money to get her to pay. Thank goodness we have a friend that's a real estate attorney. But that's beside the point, I am absolutely infuriated about our tenant situation.

I got a promotion after three months on the job. My responsibilities are more interesting as a result, but the amount of work and level of intensity has increased significantly. Today a colleague put words into my mouth in a meeting where she was arguing that I should take on some duties that one of her staff people currently does and framed it by making it sound like it was something I was thinking about. She said "Well, you're concerned about x,y, z." No, I'm not concerned about that in the least. But I am pissed off for the way that you've presented it. It seems like you're trying to manipulate me in order to get what you want.

Wood moved to Portland last year in September. Twig and I moved in December. Grandma moved in with us in May. We just moved...AGAIN...to a bigger place to accommodate grandma and her needs. I hate that I don't have time or energy to unpack and organize everything because the day to day stuff takes a majority of my time and energy. I'm not the young whipper-snapper I once was - I can't read small print any more and I certainly can't push my body as hard as I did as few as 5 years ago (without severe consequences).

Anger has always been my go to emotion - an effective tool for channeling energy in order to change things, see forward momentum, be in charge. But I think I've reached the tipping point. I'm walking about my life in a daze - people call my name and I don't hear them until they've said my name 3-4 times. I'm mostly disorganized and can't concentrate on anything (mostly outside of work) long enough to complete a thought much less a task. I like mad. But it's not working. It is assuaged by crying. I've been crying a lot lately. Usually when I feel homesick or lonely, or when I long for people and places, things that were easy, comfortable, and familiar. Or when I'm awake in the middle of the night, watching TV. On the bus to work. There are times when I want to cry but don't. And other times that I don't want to cry but can't stop the tears from pouring out. I admit it, there is plenty of cause, much more than I've written about here, and I'm depressed.

Underneath the anger I'm mourning things that were; the things that are. Angry and the energy it brings makes me think that I have some control. But I know I don't. So I try to flow with life and what it throws at me. Going with the flow is not one of my strong suits so when I don't get to do what I want to do, or things get hard and I'm not perfect at [insert anything here] and mad doesn't kick in because I'm so tired, I get sad. I know it will not be like this forever. And while that knowledge doesn't make any of "it" go away, it gives me some strength, some hope, some fuel for positive change.

On Being Needed

2011-09-24T08:27:00.001-07:00

What A Difference A Day Makes

2011-08-17T06:27:00.000-07:00

Well then, things sure have calmed down since my last post. Oh, who am I kidding? Nothing's easy in our lives and there's way too much to do on a daily basis. But we aren't fighting. We are past the thunderous crescendo and on to the calm quiet movement of the opera that is our lives.

Twig's doctor visit was a smashing success in that the doctor agreed that the incontinence is vey likely emotional/behavioral as I described a fairly clear pattern. The doctor used his (yes, a man doctor!) doctoral authority to impress upon the boy how he needs to follow a 4 times a day rule: breakfast, lunch, dinner, and bedtime. There are still poopy pants, for sure but the doctor helped him understand the importance of getting cleaned up and that parents are the ones to get help from. He's been asking for -okay- accepting help. That the argument has been reduced is huge relief.

I have to say I simply loved this doctor! He talked to Twig and got a couple of other issues out in the open. From the 6 year old perspective. He gently coaxed the boy to express his feelings and concerns with the honesty that only a child brings to the table. He's so advanced for his age, clearly adept at reading other people's feelings, and takes it all on. This is nothing new really, and a little heartbreaking to hear since I'm responsible for his angst, and can't totally make it go away. But a good reminder for me and Wood that we have to be more aware of what we talk about around him and that to the extent possible we have to keep Twig's reality as close to that of a 6 year old as possible. The doc told him that he can let his parents worry about grown up things. He's been respecting when we say "this is a grown up conversation; let us think about grown up things. You think about kid things".

But there is a significant impact of Grammie living with us, as Wood and I overheard while Twig and his friend Warrior Princess chatted in the back seat Sunday:

Twig: There's someone new at my house you've never met before.
Warrior Princess: Who?
Twig: My grandma, she lives with us now. It's kinda hard.
WP: Yeah, its hard for me with my baby sister.
Twig. You have a baby sister? (WP lives between mom & dad. Dad has a new wife & baby that Twig hasn't quite comprehended)
WP: Yeah, and I don't get very much attention any more.
Twig: Yeah, my Grandma forgets and needs a lot of help.
WP: Yeah, babies do too. I get attention but only after she goes to sleep.
Twig: Yeah.

Wood and I said nothing during he exchange. We glanced at each other and discussed it later in the day. Wondering aloud if the current living configuration is causing more harm than good.

We have had cause, however, to become creative in getting our needs met, tasks completed, and social lives lived.

Last week Tuesday or so, Grammie started complaining of a bladder infection. Wednesday she was convinced she has diabetes, and by Friday, at exactly the same time I was taking Twig to the doctor (and concurrently taking calls from the lawyer about our property in California), I got a call from her day program saying she was sick and wanted to go home. It was an incredibly stressful afternoon and evening as Wood was out helping a friend of a friend.
On my own to appease Grammie's fears that the sky might be falling. But, the lie that I'd called the doctor and had been told to wait a day or two and see how things go before going to urgent care (the new doctor appointment doesn't happen until Sept 9th) worked. She hasn't mentioned bladder infection symptoms, woozieness, or other symptoms. She's a bit obsessive about her current meds but that's her Alzheimers and mental health.

Life has become exponentially more complex with her here. And although we're half way considering not keeping her with us, we aren't making any moves to the contrary. We aren't making any moves in any direction, really.

Except vacation. We're on vacation for a week. !!!!!

I Dream Of...

2011-08-13T06:46:00.000-07:00

A long list of available jobs at one company, pretty much the exact same duties and responsibilities. Just slightly different titles. I apply for every single one of them despite the fact that they are manual labor jobs requiring much, much, much less than I have capacity for.

Driving along a long, curvy, very fast moving road - a wide freeway, actually - with lots and lots of construction materials, mostly long and wide white plastic plumbing pipes, along the side of the road. There are beautiful bridges and trees along the route. And the road is a surprisingly smooth surface to be traveling along - not many bumps along the way. It's a good thing because the water comes up on the road. The pipes fall from their large stacks into my lanes. The trees blow in the wind's fury. And it takes a long time to get to my destination.

The people on the bus are looking me up and down. They're dressed nicely, quietly chatting, sort of pointing, deciding if they agree or not. I'm at their house, on a beautiful deck, taking in the scenery; chatting, listening to their proclamations. I find a piece of fruit, a cherry-plum that is yellow inside. There's something not right. This place is a cult. It's all wrong. So I leave.

The boys elbow is in my kidney again and I wake up.

The Menu

2011-08-07T17:52:00.000-07:00

Twig has been doing his very best to be a helpful boy lately. A few days ago he created a full menu for which he wants complete and total responsibility for cooking, serving, and cleaning up.

He wanted to be responsible for this menu on Friday but for some reason it didn't happen. He was tired and Grammie wanted to go out to eat. Twig and I stayed home because he just couldn't handle going out. Saturday night we were busy doing something else that I can't remember at the moment because I'm kind of enraged.

Every time there's a large transition in our lives Twig has bladder and bowel incontinence issues. I've always known when things are rough for him because potty problems appear out of nowhere and into my nose... They've resurfaced lately. Pee and poo everywhere. Daily. Often multiple times daily.

He's typically a refuser of taking care of his potty needs. He never needs to pee. Rarely needs to poo. In the toilet that is. Whenever I get a whiff, and it's typically an awful awful awful wretched smell, I give him a look and in the gentlest voice I can muster, ask him to "take care of business". He responds with his whiniest "What?" to which I respond, in the gentlest of voices I can muster, that he has had an accident. To which he denies. I ask him to clean himself up, to wash, change, etc. And he refuses. And I can't have him walking around with that terrible stink; the knowledge that he has poop on his butt drives me crazy. There are certain things I can't let go of. Things like shit.

Shitty pants have in the past, led to a rashy ass, which has led to doctor's appointments diagnoses of Staphylococcus infections, and 3 times daily application of ointment to said rash. Yeah. Staph.

Eventually we get to a place where I'm pretty much forcibly changing his poopy pants and underpants, cleaning shit off of him and his clothes (and the bathroom), and being screamed at that he doesn't need help, he hasn't done anything, that I'm a bad mom, to leave him alone, that he can't wait to go on an airplane by himself, etc. It is plain and simple: he hates me. I'm behaving in ways that make him hate me. And I'm trying to pick and choose my battles here.

In the middle of him cooking dinner tonight, I smelled "the smell". I asked him to change his clothes and clean himself up. He slammed the bathroom door. Multiple times. Screamed at me and called me bad, stupid, yadda yadda yadda. I offered to help. He told me to get out of the bathroom, that he didn't need help. I stayed and tried to explain that I understood it was embarrassing, that accidents happen, that we'd be visiting the doctor on Friday because we are worried that he can't feel it coming out, or smell it, or acknowledge that it's happened. I tried to force my help upon him. Eventually I gave in. Angry that it's difficult to get shit done (ha!) I barked my orders: change into clean clothes, wash ass, wash shit off of clothes, put washcloth in dirty washcloth tub, clean out shitty tub, wash hands. Call me if you want help.

He changed his underpants. Wet the washcloth, put it in the tub and resumed cooking. Lied to our faces about washing his hands. With still-shitty pants. And dirty hands. And guess what - suddenly I wasn't hungry any more. And neither was Wood. More screaming at me ensued. Horrible, mean, awful, bad mom.

Then he cooked. And ate. And served Grammie. And when that was done, I helped him get ready for his shower. In the process of helping him get undressed, I showed him the shit on his pants. And the shit that was on the clean underwear that he put on his ass that he didn't wash. And tried to express to him my frustration with him denying that it wasn't there in the first place. It was likely a lot less gentle than I'd like it to be. He's been acting out a LOT lately.

When he got into the shower, we talked about what had transpired. It came out that he thinks I'm mean to him all of the time. As hard as it was to hear that (since I don't always feel it), we accidentally dug a little deeper. My reserves and tolerance is terribly low - I'm done having this talk, this argument, this shit. I want the shower over and for him to go to bed. And after telling him what needed to happen next, he responded in a way that helped me understand that my directive, straight forward, no nonsense approach feels mean to him. I think that I try to reserve the barking for the times that it's really necessary. I give warning after warning, count from 3 to 1, suggest to him that my tone and body language are trying to convey something, suggest that he won't like it when I soon start yelling. But apparently to him the meanness is constant.

So, he's mean to me because he's "just giving it back". Wow, almost 7 years old and able to articulate all of that. But not manage his bowels. I don't know what to do. I feel so angry at him - and awful for not being able to suck it up and go with it. To pretend that everything is happy and good and that these kinds of things aren't a problem.

It's immeasurably difficult for me to let go when it's over. I get so worked up and it takes such a long time to come down. I wonder what is wrong with me, what is wrong with him. I'm fairly certain, even in the middle of it, that I'm doing exactly the same thing my mom did with me - being demanding, uncompromising, fiercely angry - and pushing him away faster than I need to. I question if letting him control everything that was important to him would calm his attempts to control things or make them worse. And I think back to my days working with people who had behaviorists involved in their lives - teaching me about The ABC's (Antecedent, Behavior, Consequense) of undesirable behavior. I know I have a part in it. And I know that this poo problem is not best served by natural consequences. I know he gets something from it too. Sure, we could ignore it, let him get a rash, and spread his feces all over the house. But I can't let it go. Any of it. I just can't.

We have an appointment to see a doctor this week. It concerns me that perhaps it isn't behavioral and I'm just now getting to exploring that possibility. Even though this problem has always been intermittent, I'm pretty certain it should have been addressed medically before now. I'm sure the stress of our lives is taking it's toll on Twig, too. And I'm feeling really shitty about myself, my behavior, the situation. All of the good that does happen doesn't cancel out the fact that I've behaved badly too.

Tonight, I missed dinner prepared by my favorite Chef. It's really my loss.

FIF

2011-08-05T20:41:00.001-07:00

Most people say TGIF. I said it this morning and shortly afterward, changed my exclamation to: Fuck, It's Friday!

Once upon a time, Friday meant the beginning of the weekend. Slowing down a bit from the frenetic feel of the work week. Of hanging out with friends. Of taking a day to sit at home and re-connect with the family. Lately, Friday means getting out of work earlier than most and getting a head start on the things that we didn't or can't get to during the week.

Meal planning, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning the toilet, laundry, paying bills.

It's harder than ever for me to get these 'regular' things done because Grammie needs a fair amount of attention. In addition to the day to day cooking for her, organizing her days and such, there's the other things that she needs and has every right to want taken care of. Things like nail care, hair care, church, going out to eat. I never expected I'd ever say I didn't want to go out to eat... I don't really want to go out to eat. She wants to do it all of the time. I like it to be a treat. And she can't really do those things on her own anymore.

Anyway, a fourth person in the house has an impact I'd never really appreciated - or had to appreciate - before now. There is another person's needs/desires around food to take into consideration. There are safety concerns around her cooking on her own especially when we're not home. The bathroom, kitchen and floors get dirtier when there's a fourth person here so I can't fudge on doing things like cleaning the toilet when I could when it was just the three of us. Certainly, the fact that both Twig and Grammie aren't exactly aware of or care about how messy they are adds to the mix a bit. Sometimes I get really frustrated. Most times I try to come up with a solution that will make things easier for everyone. And I always remind myself that while some things are personality driven and extremely annoying I can't change who another person is. And that the reason she's here is because of her disease process.

Truth be told, Wood and I seem to be adjusting to this new life of nightly trading of sleeping spots (I'm on the living room futon, he's on the bed with Twig or he's on the futon and I'm in the bed) whilst Grammie is in Twig's bed. Twig seems to be adjusting to it okay. And I'm trying to let him check out if he needs to (e.g. Grammie and Wood went to dinner without us tonight - what a treat!). We all are sort of figuring out how 4 people shower and pee in the mornings with only one bathroom. And we keep communicating about day to day activities like who needs to be where and by when, who will drop off and who will pick up, where we will meet in between. We are trying to carve out individual time and family time. And hopefully we'll find sex time. Given that last statement, you'd imagine that we haven't had the time to even think about looking for a new place. We are doing well working as a team but we aren't getting used to the pace that we have to keep to ensure things are working well.

Hence, Fuck, It's Friday! No time to slow down. Ballet, groceries, nails, hair, pharmacy, play date, church, cleaning, cooking, laundry. Exercise needs to get in there too. We'll find our sea legs one day soon. And hopefully, Friday will take on it's "it's almost time to relax" meaning, someday real soon.

Thanks for reading. And thanks for commenting. :)

Daddy's Back

2011-08-01T20:35:00.000-07:00

And that presents its own set of challenges. Navigating his emotions in the context of everyone else's is rather hard for me. The boy has been extra shitty. And I'm no perfect role model. Bad role model, actually. Wood's learned mantra is when you walk past the dishwasher and its loaded all wrong, remember, no one is gonna die". And while I subscribe to the concept, I find myself perseverating on mundane tasks that aren't really worth pushing about. And are the things that are: Twig's nasty tone, disrespectful back talk, willful disregard for any request we make of him. Nothing works. And after a while I get enraged and want to physically hurt him.

I blame Wood. At times he's disrespectful toward me. Even when he's kidding it's not good. And Twig sees it and thinks it's okay. Then again, other parents of kids his age are having very similar challenges. Maybe it's the fact that it's summer, that grammie is living with us, that I'm working full time... Or that he lost his two front teeth. Or something.

All I know is I'm headed to kick boxing tomorrow. Cause if I don't beat the shit outta something I'm gonna beT the.shit outta someone and that should be avoided at all costs.

Don't Tell Me What To Do

2011-07-28T06:10:00.000-07:00

Every morning, as soon as my MIL has any indication that we are awake, she parks herself at the kitchen table. And waits. For me to serve her breakfast. She'll get herself some cereal, spills milk on the floor, makes a mess.of the table, and puts her dishes in the sink - even if the dishwasher is ready for dirty dishes. She always puts the dishes in the wrong way - cups and glasses on the bottom rack, plates on the top, or some weird combination of the two. She always has to be told to put the dishes in the dishwasher. She never has been a neatnick, and never really used a dishwasher so its kind of understandable that its not her first thought or that she's not good at it. Dishes aren't her strong suit, Hell cleaning has never been her strong suit... This is nothing new. And she does have Alzheimer Disease (I'm reading The 36 Hour Day and they've taken out the 's out of the name in the 4th edition). After she puts her things near me so that I can clean up after her, she sits down at the table and waits for more food. An egg. And juice. And toast. And her medicine. She just sits there and waits. And if I'm not getting to it fast enough, after all I'm also making breakfast and lunch for Twig and myself (Wood is out of town but he's often part of that equation), she asks of she can have an egg. And watches me make it. She has Alzheimer disease and part of her behavior is annoying because she has a fucked up disease and part of her behavior is annoying because she's living in my house and I don't like most people enough to spend a weekend with them much less live with 'em. But there's more. It's been a greuling week at work and last night I skipped making a full meal for dinner. I offered left overs and promptly parked my ass on the couch with a stiff drink in hand. And she came to the living room asking me for a salad. And followed that up with "I want salad every day" with dinner. There's lettuce in the fridge. "I need cucumbers and tomatoes" every day... I don't have the energy to do a full meal every day. I'd skip meals several times a week if it weren't for the fact that I live with other other people who can't skip meals. She then talks about how she can pay for the salad fixings, contribute to the weekly food budget. Which I explain is very generous and we can work that out another time. But she presses the need for salad ingredients. And I understand! All of it. She needs roughage so she can shit (I get it, I've got bleeding hemmorhoids from eating badly). And she's asking because in reality she's a guest in my home, reliant on me for just about all of her needs. I have to turn on the shower every day because she can't do it on her own. Sequencing, any activity that takes several steps is really hard for her. And I KNOW its her disease. And I STILL feel like she's telling me what to do, how to do it, and when. I ABSOLUTELY HATE to be told what to do in that "you're obligated, bound to it because I said so kind of way". And when I'm completely overwhelmed, overextended, overtired AND doing Twig and Grammy care alone and my full-time FUCKING JOB is Grammy care and I'm doing both with too few resources: hands on deck support, money, hours in the day, etc. It doesn't take long for me to feel like the slightest expectation of me is a provocation and at best feel bitchy or at worst act badly. Jeezus, this has only begun. Right now, all I wanna do is run! But I gotta get up and make breakfast.

Self Care

2011-07-27T05:03:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time I told my mom that the should start planning for her old age because when she got there she would not be invited to come live with me. The way she saw it, my statement was as an affront, that I didn't like her, perhaps I didn't love her. The way I saw it was that I had lived with her before and know the limits of my personality when mixed with hers. Fast forward about 15 years or so and pretty much 5 minutes after meeting my mother-in-law the same feeling welled up in me something fierce.

And yet, 10 or so years later, I find myself living with my mother-in-law.

What changed?

She did. I did.

I can no longer get on the institutional bandwagon. After spending an entire career supporting people with disabilities and seniors to live in the community, asking either of our mothers to live in an institution when we could semi-reasonably attend to their needs seems a bit hypocritical, no? And frankly, I've grown up a bit and believe that its a monumentally important task and learning opportunity for the parent, the adult children and the grandchild. Intense as it may be - I fully expect for it to be overwhelmingly okay until it's not - it will be one Hell of a learning event. Respect for your elders, familial care/love, self care, circle of life...

In true social worker fashion, I've already identified support groups for caregivers, Alzheimers specific groups, told my husband that he's absolutely REQUIRED to attend (anyone who really know me knows that I demand little beyond basic respect from people), have looked into hiring a housekeeper for the chores, hired a part time caregiver for the non-program days Grammy is home alone, talked with my employer about her needs, and will continue to put necessary pieces in place to make this good for everyone - at least as good as it can be.

I have certainly fallen into my typical coping mechanism patterns of sugar/pastry in all its forms, coffee (periodically), insomnia, and no exercise. I give myself permission to do these things because something's gotta give. NARF is correct, I am not Super Woman (but, achem, I'm pretty freaking awesome in what I do accomplish) and I know I have to take care of my health too! I have a plan, and I will develop it more fully soon. Right. after I plan my weekend away. Oh yeah! I'm going to need my alone time periodically - to cry uncontrollably, sleep, have physical space from people, to not be accessible - to be off "needed" duty for a while. I've known for years in the deep depths of my soul that this time would come. Not the details, but that I would be here and now as a caregiver, that I would have my own set of needs. And way back when I knew that I'd check out of my caregiving duties and into a hotel to relax, recharge, reboot my systems.

No time like the present, right? I think I'll be making that reservation today!

Long Time No Write

2011-07-25T06:47:00.000-07:00

I periodically get an email from Sitemeter that gives me an overview of the activity related to this here blog. One showed up bright and early this morning and since I usually wake up before anyone else, I took a look at the stats. Something strange is going on! I haven't actually written anything and posted here on almost 8 months. Eight months! And despite that, My Lady had 25 visits last week. Downright impressive that she's been working so hard and hasn't even been trying.

All kidding aside, it has been a long time since I've taken the time to write. And wouldn't you know it if the past 8 months have been such that I could have used a visit with my Nice Lady.

In the interest of time (and the fact that I'm writing this from bed on an Android phone with my over tired 6.75 year old sleeping peacefully next to me), here's what I've been up to:

Hubbie's started a new Job - in another state.
Was a single parent for 3 months.
Managed updates and remodel of our bathroom in preparation for out of state move. While working full time.
Hired moving company.
Packed house.
Rented said house out.
Moved out of state.
Unpacked house.
Started Twig at a new school.
Worked part-time remotely and finished a couple of work projects.
Had visitors from home. (notice very big smile on my face).
Volunteered at school, took the boy to swimming lessons, and the playground after school, kept house, met my husband for lunch once a week, exercised daily, made new friends, settled into our new life and started to enjoy a slower pace.
Got a new job. Started working full-time. about two weeks before summer started.
Set Twig up for summer camp. Took on single parenting while Hubbie's been out of town for work.
Attempted to get 68 year old Mother-in-Law with early onset Alzheimers Disease living in LA admitted to Assisted Living facility in my new town of Portland, OR. Which did not happen. She's living with us now. In our two bedroom 900 square foot rental.

I always swore that I'd be the only mother living in my house. Those words are now biting me in the ass! I want to do the right thing, and I (we) will. And three weeks in, I'm realizing just how hard its going to be.

I need a Nice Lady like never before. See you soon, I hope.

Vulnerability

2011-01-06T12:10:00.000-08:00

Well then. A woman who pretty much sums up everything this blog is about. In about 10 minutes. And I love her.

Sometimes Wood tells me that I'm "too much". My response is something akin to "I'm just enough and don't you ever forget it."

Thank you #1 Reader for turning me on to it. And thank you, Wonelle, for taking the time for yourself.

I've Got a Hot Date

2011-01-04T19:12:00.000-08:00

I've got a hot date. Not with my bad-boy, leather jacket, cowboy boots wearing, cigarette smoking, alcoholic boyfriend (Anthony Bourdain), my 'I'll give you anything you want from underpants to grated cheese, and take it all back without any hesitation as long as you use your rewards card' boyfriend (Fred Meyer), or my geeky-smart 'I will tell you how to make the best cheesecake, pork loin, or anything else you could ever want to eat and teach you the science of doing it in a way that you'll love it so that you'll want me more' boyfriend (Alton Brown). Nah, I got a date with my husband, Wood.

I warned him, many years ago, that he'd have to promise to be my boyfriend forever if he wanted to marry me. He agreed. But as with many things in our probably better than average marriage, as it turns out, I'm in charge of making him keep certain promises. Like being boyfriend and girlfriend.

Don't get me wrong, we both want to date each other. It's just that things have been kinda off-the-hook insane for the past 4-5 months or so. No, really insane. So insane that the following list is not in correct order. I can't begin to remember the timeline. And as you read, you'll begin to understand why. (not to mention the fact that I typically remember every detail of super-hard-stressful, dare I say bad events, with startling clarity and recall)

Grammy had surgery scheduled, then rescheduled, then barely completed because she was so scared by the prospect. But in the meantime she had several falls, lost about 125 lbs. and was in such ill-health and mental capacity we were really afraid something bad was going to happen. We had to go to LA LA land to be with her twice between July and September and she fought us every step of the way (but claimed she wanted us there).

Wood interviewed for a job in Portland, Oregon just before the canceled surgery was to take place. Then in the middle of Grammy's health debacle, he was offered the job and had to secretly negotiate the terms of the deal. He accepted the job (!!) but didn't tell his mom for some time.

He finally told her - about a week before he moved to Portland. She was kind of devastated.

Some of our closest friends moved to Costa Rica. Our other closest friends didn't take the news of our moving to Portland, on the tails of friends moving to Costa Rica, too well.

My nephew was diagnosed with a rare and extremely aggressive form of cancer and was literally hanging on to his life by a thread and a prayer (a lot of prayer from a lot of people). He spent about 3 weeks in ICU and another week or two after that in the hospital.

My sister (the same sister with the son with cancer) was pregnant with my niece who was diagnosed in eutero with a bi-lateral cleft lip and palate. Did I mention her due date was 10 days after my nephew was admitted to the hospital? And that she's estranged from the dad of the baby? Because he's got domestic violence and child abuse in his past (which she found out well after she got pregnant)? That she delivered the baby when my nephew was sedated and medically paralyzed?

My family had a hard time with the news of our move. And the plan for me and Twig to be with Wood for a week at Thanksgiving was not taken well. My nephew was still in ICU. It was hard, but necessary, to leave.

My house was burglarized the day - actually the exact same time - that I had a phone interview for a job in Portland. Thank goodness the interviewer was late calling me and my neighbor called me to tell me what was happening. And that the interviewer rescheduled the call considering I had to deal with the Police and all.

I was a single mom of a kindergartner who had some behavioral problems at home and school (in a class that didn't have a great teacher), doing all of the drop offs and pick ups, cooking cleaning, shopping, etc. AS WELL AS managing household improvements/repairs so that we could rent our house out once we moved all while my husband lived and worked in Portland.

I quit a great job with fantastic people, stopped exercising, and kind of got used to being on my own again. Which was my biggest fear of living apart for a while. I can be a bit of a recluse and a bitch to live with if left to my own devices.

While there are about 500 other really tough things that happened during that time, and I can't remember (whew!), we're now in Portland reunited as a family, unpacking, starting a new school (with a much better teacher thank-you-very-much), managing challenging behaviors, mourning our losses, celebrating our gains - and addressing the gambit of the issues that go along with a family separated-moving to a new place-now reconnecting...

Hence the hot date.

It's been really cold here at times (literally and figuratively); the date was for us to work on gathering all of our resources to get and stay all cozy-warm. I'm sure that there will continue be a cold front here and there. But as one of my four readers has said so eloquently, marriages have seasons. Some are cold and some are hot. And even though I was born and raised in California, I know that no matter what, it takes work to make it through any severe weather pattern.

*************
Things on all other fronts are much better now! Nephew's cancer is better - not treated (but no more tumors!), baby is born with only cleft lip (!!), they caught the kid that broke in, I was able to reschedule my phone interview (even though I bombed it), I'm working part time for my fantastic employer in Oakland from Portland for a while, I'm running again, trying to stretch my interpersonal skills and make new friends, I've got the inclination and desire to write, and I've got my family back together again. Equilibrium will begin to show itself sometime soon. GAWD, I hope!

Old Habits Die Hard

2010-11-16T23:32:00.000-08:00

Today I broke my year long caffeine fast and had a regular soy latte for breakfast. Peanut M&M's for brunch. Reeses Peanut Butter Cups for Lunch. Plain M&M's for a mid day snack. A couple of saltines and water to calm my stomach. Rounded it off with Chinese: Lemon Chicken, Green Beans and Brown Rice, all washed down with a Racer 5 IPA.

Yesterday was hard, exhausting, excruciating. And brought family dynamics stuff to the forefront - magnified by a million.

I'm abandoning my family, I'm the outcast, they don't choose me to help even though I'm available and want to help. Because I'm not like them, I don't do things correctly. I'm no good.

This is not logical. It is purely emotional.

Pure Chatter

2010-04-22T19:53:00.000-07:00

A woman showering at the gym tonight was scrubbing her skin with one of those green kitchen brillo pads used for getting the caked on baked on goo off of pots & pans. All I could think was hmmmm.

I had a great running dream. It was the same night we happened to see part of the Boston Marathon on TV. In my dream I ran fast and strong for a long time. It felt good. In my waking run over a week ago, my knee hurt with every step and afterward for a couple of days. I have a half marathon in June and haven't trained enough. Because of the knee pain. So I'll go to the chiropractor, keeping my fingers crossed that it's something that can be addressed simply.

Tonight I meet another mom for tea and planning for the preschool 'yearbook'. My boy goess to kindergarten in the fall. And while there is plenty to keep me busy, I'm volunteering for the school's auction by entering information into a database, I felt compelled to try to help. The woman who is doing the work is one of the very few that I care for. Most are not my type in the least. The ones that have been at the school since the beginning of time. This mom is new like us. And ready to be finished with this school. I have no illusions about the new place or that the families will be that much different than the ones we've encountered here. But fully understand that I'm not too open to certain people. That and I'm simply not the kind of person that walks around pretending that the world is perfect or anything resembling my experience of it. I'm judgemental and disinterested in being like most of them but also get that being closed off is not helpful either.

The Witching Hour

2010-04-06T05:38:00.000-07:00

Apparently my internal clock is set to wake me up at exactly 4am.every day. Which sucks because it's not like I can just pop up and vaccuum or do the dishes. NO, I've got othr people in the house to consider. And doing exactly that is probably why I wake so freaking early in the morning- I put Twig to sleep at 8pm. Duuuh, Wonelle, 8pm to 4am is exactly 8 hours! So you have two choices: figure out how to stay up later (feudal) or figure out how to get some shit done in the wee hours of the morn. And I do not mean #2. Sometimes the simplest things are lost on you, Wonelle.

I owe y'all a post on the Oakland Marathon & my sinus surgery. It's just that I've been taking recouperrate to the extreme. Except I'll probably hit the gym tonight. Slugggishness is setting in...

Yawn

2010-03-26T16:28:00.000-07:00

I'm tired.

The paperwork said to get plenty of rest the week prior to surgery. I've been burning the candle at both ends. Staying awake late to meet deadlines, getting up early to keep house, exercising multiple times a week for at least two hours at a time, planning as many social activities as possible. Amid all of the craziness I even took some time off of work. Not because I wanted to, more like because I had to. But, I decided to approach the day different than usual. No, no, no, I didn't have a leisurely day planned. Instead, I decided to do the fun stuff first.

And it worked! Twig and I had a lot of fun and then he was able to keep himself occupied AND help me with housework (he's a master of dusting and dishes despite the broken bowl). It was nice to be able to redirect his "bad" behavior and actually get the response I was looking for. He seems to be quite satisfied with our time together too.

We're having company for dinner and I have no interest in finishing the cleaning, no desire to cook. But I do want to spend time with our friends. So I'll suck it up and make frozen pizza or something equally easy to prepare and clean up...

Been thinking about my dad a lot lately. Want to write something about him but it's not quite there. I'm hoping that next week I'll feel energetic enough - and not too loopy - to write to him. I miss him a lot and often feel sad that we didn't talk for about 10 years before he died. He was a stubborn cuss though and I tried a meager try as it were.

Two Trips to the Vending Machine

2010-03-19T14:16:00.000-07:00

Oh, Mrs. Frreshley how I covet your no trans fat per serving creme filled doesn't really taste like chocolate ccupcakes. To the tune of 4 today.

I'm stressed that I'm going to have surrgery a week from Thursday and there iss always so much undone at the end of each day. I feel the most displeasure when the undone thngs incclude not returning phone calls to friends (so sorry J & B & J) and that I struggle to keep up with their excitement, acccomplishments and milestones (birthday cards, holiday cards & the like unsent) that supporting other friends through their daily struggles doesn't come as easily as it once did (Miss P).

Spring has sprung and that always reminds me that everything is always changing and that I should remember to be gentle on me too. Gentle isn't my strongest personality trait. So I self medicate with vending machine food that labels itself as cupcakes. After a two hour workout last night I can get away with it. For today.

Happy Anniversay

2010-03-14T18:31:00.000-07:00

Seven. Offiicially, that is. Ten total.

We're in Calistoga celebrating in an olympic sized swimming pool, mud baths and full session masages. And cucumber-lemon water to clean out all the othe stuff.

Sheer luxury and leisure. The last time we were here was 9 years ago. Wow, how time flies when you're having fun!

I hope to post 'The Anti-Socialite' - or how bad I am at maintaining friendships because of my husband, child, house, exercise rroutine, cooking fetish, full-time job and other excuses I'd like to denounce because they get in the way of meaningful adult relationships and I think I'm a putz for not keepingg in touch more regularly - post soon. Shit, I volunteered to do some school auction stuff and that will keep me busy for the next few weeks... maybe not doing soon, just more thinking about it...

Happy Anniversary

2010-03-12T16:55:00.000-08:00

Wood and I are celebrating our 7 year wedding anniversary this week... We're dropping Twig off at Bam's house and heading to the spa. What bourgeois yuppies we are. One night, 2 mud baths, swimming in the olympic size pool, massages and cucumber water, and fine dining for several meals sans kid... here I come!

Happy Friday!

It's Friday!

2010-03-12T09:35:00.000-08:00

And I've been waiting all week for today!

Whew, I have been lots more tired this week than usual. My sleep has been disturbed a lot lately for no apparent reason. Lat night however, I slept like a log. Maybe it was the beer. Or the late - - almost midnight - - bedtime that helped... Who cares? I slept for something like 5 hours n a row and that is huge in my world.

I've also been having more than usual shortness of breath lately when carrying as little as 20 lbs. Usually when walking to and from my office... I think my tiredness has something to do with my COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease - chronic Bronchitis in my case). Unfortunately it is a progressive disease that can be managed but not cured. My fear of drowning to death will someday come true, I'm afraid. I will eventually come to be okay with that prospect.

The diagnosis came a little more than a year ago when I just couldn't bounce back from a cold and later couldn't walk anywhere or carry anything without being extremely short of breath. With my history of smoking, recurrent bouts with lung infections and other issues - most notably the need for oral steroids for a lung infection while I was pregnant, and pretty much every cold since then with no significant improvement over several months of seeing many different doctors and trying many different medication regimes, there it is. Upon meeting my (beloved) pulmonologist and hearing him say I'd be taking inhaled medicine for the rest of my life and that I needed to exercise to stay healthy, it hit home real hard. Actually, it became real for the first time.

I'm late for a work meeting so more on this and my fabulous anniversary weekend plans later. Sorry for the typos, I'm on my smart phone, blogging from the parking lot. No spell check option here!

Hump Day

2010-03-10T09:22:00.000-08:00

Is it Friday yet?

Sleep sucked again last night; my boy, my body/breathing and my brain all getting in the way. Not 100% sure what exactly is getting in the way to make this a regular occurrence...

On a brighter note, these longer days are nice even if they are cold, cold, cold. And we did get the public school choice we wanted for Twig! We are now planning to take him out of preschool in late June for a series of summer camp sessions that will include a swimming camp, gymnastics, outdoor science camp, and very likely a Mandarin and/or Spanish immersion camp.

Work finds me soon taking on more responsibilities (gladly). And exercise, eating, etc. are going well enough. My body has decided that fatty foods, alcohol and sugar will cause great allergic reaction (swelling of hands and feet) so I'm looking at and actively making significant dietary changes. Not a bad thing, not a bad thing at all.

My lungs are acting badly lately... My sinuses are too but I am scheduled to have those surgically addressed at the end of the month. It's all okay overall but every now and again, I'm confronted with my health in ways that I don't like. I'm reminded that my lungs will be deteriorating over time... It makes me feel sad, weak and depressed but, I just charge ahead despite my fears and anxieties about the future. After all, I'm relatively healthy now and that is all that matters for the time being.

And my family is healthy too. Life really is pretty darn good!

How Do You Figure?

2010-03-09T17:26:00.000-08:00

I slept for almost 11 hours last night. At 11 am today I was still yawning. What gives? Granted, i% was not without sleep interruptions. The boy has been sleeping in his own bed for two months or more. I've been using a homeopathic sleep aid. And I'm still exhausted.

I just don't understand.

insomnia

2010-03-07T00:49:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's my husband's incessant snoring that keeps me awake at night... not the caffeine...

Fine, it's both.

Either way I find it annoying to be awake while everyone else is peacefully sleeping. The snoring makes it hard to fall back to sleep and when it's especially annoying (like tonight) it makes me mad. Which doesn't help the relaxation process either.

I'm sure I'm mad about something else. Just haven't worked it out yet. Although, the fact that I've been (pending post on the subject written this morning so will show up after this post when finally published at a reasonable hour on Sunday) parenting an over tired and physically demanding kid for the past couple of weeks might have something to do with my generally pissy demeanor. Add in being awake at 1am after cleaning up the pee accident, which came after the getting ready for bed fight which came after the getting dressed for ballet and not one but two birthday parties today fights (it really was a great day), you can see why I'm feeling a little possessive of my rest time.

Mmmkayyy, now it's time to take back my night. Sweet dreams and thanks for reading!

Spine of Steel, Heart of Stone

2010-03-06T11:21:00.000-08:00

A friend once gave me the sage advice about parenting. "Spine of Steel, Heart of Stone", she said. It was certainly during one of those times when the boy was being what I like to call 'extra, extra'.

He's been pushing all of my buttons these last few weeks. Playing instead of getting dressed, not answering when I ask a question or give direction. While those things are to be expected when child rearing, they do kind piss me off when they have been the norm for such a while (or at least what feels like such a long time - these are recurring issues). But there is one thing that really, I mean really makes me angry and that is his violence. Acting as if he will be violent with dirty looks, stances, and even props. Sometimes it's not just for show, he actually karate kicks me or punches me. And every time we have these altercations, he gets hurt. Take today as an example.

He didn't want to change his tights (he takes ballet and the tights he was wearing had a hole in them.) He didn't want to change and didn't until I helped. Soon thereafter he wasn't answering my questions so I sent him to his room for the customary time out. Which made him more angry. Since he was trying to shoot me with fiddlesticks, punching me as I tried to walk out of the room, he tried to snatch them out of my hands and quickly turned around for his departure and ran into the corner of his dresser. OUCH! His shoulder screaming and tears flowing but he was now able to listen.

There are moments I think I should simply beat the crap out of him. Seems that reason isn't working on him. Truth is I need to go to my happy place when this stuff comes up. I'm beat down. Truly beat down. For now that is. I'll get it back soon enough - without any child abuse. Mark my words.

Yawn

2010-03-02T18:00:00.000-08:00

I know better than do drink caffeinated beverages and yet, in my infinite wisdom in following the natural healing book, I drank green tea yesterday.

Woke up at 1am, unable to go back to sleep until 4:30am - or something equally outrageous. And then the alarm roused me at 6am.

Worked all day and got a lot done. But in the afternoon, my lungs said NO to more activity tonight. No boot camp. Sleep. But I had to ask Wood to give me permission to take a night off. "lots of goo coming out of my lungs, even after taking medicine, I need permission to listen to my body and rest today". He was gentle and supportive; here I am feeling slightly guilty for not doing more than writing despite him being correct.

Tomorrow I will have more energy. Like I did over the weekend. I will pick up an extra exercise session when my body is less fatigued. If my body is less fatigued. I will run on Saturday.

For now, I will change out of my work clothes and cuddle with the boy on the couch. Because I can!

I Choose

2010-02-26T20:13:00.000-08:00

In some fit of wisdom, I realized that I had to choose every day to be married. Before I got married that is.

I realized today that my current challenges are that because I need to choose to behave like a grown up. Knowing is not enough. Now I must act on the knowledge. That knowledge makes the depression non existent. And the tears make it less heavy, too.

I choose to be a responsible role model of a grown up. So now I'm going to sleep.

This Has Been a Prickly Time

2010-02-25T13:20:00.000-08:00

Paula uses the term frequently enough that it has begun to make good sense to use it. I do hope it is oaky to do so. I need something to describe how I am feeling, mostly at work lately, but often outside the office too. It's not pms, not bitchy. Frustrated is appropriate but I don't think it really conveys the right message. Depressed could work but I routinely dismiss that term because of all of the other things connected to it. Negative stereotypes and all. But that is going to have to do for now because I'm doing this from my cell phone potty break. Yup, I know it's TMI but imagining the perplexed look on your face or furrowed brow because of it makes me grin & giggle and I need to do that a lot lately to keep my sanity. So there! Until later...

legumes & other excesses

2010-02-24T11:34:00.000-08:00

Oooh, I've been eating too many beans this week. Black beans., refried beans, lentils, soy beans. No meat. Just beans! Yum and yuck all at the same time. My body craves them but noses (mine and everyone else's) simply don't agree.

I officially met my weight loss goal this week! 30 pounds and 4 sizes in a year. Keep the weight or lower for 6 weeks and I'm a lifetime member of weight watchers for free!

took two classes at the gym last night in preparation for the Oakland Marathon 5k at the end of March. And I'm feeling it, too. But it's to be expected. It's more that I usually do but it must be done to go to the next level of fitness.

that's all for now. My break is over!

Whoa, Nellie!

2010-02-19T22:03:00.000-08:00

Oh, my today was a challenging, busy day. Actually, it's been a challenging, busy week. No, make that a month (or more).

Hubbie is, on very short notice, out of town this weekend at his aging, ailing mother's request, helping to clean her apartment of it's sundry items so that she doesn't get evicted for her not-so-well hidden from her landlord when they came in to inspect smoke detectors hoarding tendencies. She doesn't want me to know that this is an issue but if Twig's any indicator - When I told him that Daddy had to go to LA to visit Grammie and help her with some things for the weekend, his response was "You mean to help her throw things away and clean her apartment?", um, yeah, nobody knows...

Last week was a long weekend, I had a 100% free day (hubbie was working and Twig was in school), so I spent it cooking. All day prepping vegetables from our food box for the following week. Joyous times bee-bopping in the kitchen, doin' my thang. But with really swollen ankles/feet in the evening. And that evening we went to visit some friends for a get together - dinner and Olympic opening ceremonies - while the food, wine and company were excellent, the ceremonies started so late that we didn't get to watch more than about 10 minutes before we had to leave, already an hour and a half past Twigs bed time. Needless to say the next day he woke up earlier than usual unable to go back to sleep. And although he had a huge breakfast that morning, he was less than himself for the rest of the day. Ballet class found him not able to really focus on the teachers instruction. While focus is a tad bit of a "problem" for him under normal circumstances, he was in an extra special place that day. So Sunday I let him sit in front of the TV for most of the day and was not displeased when ballet/tap class (yes, he's willingly taking two ballet classes) was cancelled. I hadn't cleaned the house in a few weeks. Monday was another holiday. Despite the playdate, he melted when we tried to get me some new running shoes. Hubbie melted too. It was all in all, a really bad scene. Much of the week has been difficult. Is he still overtired? Hell if I know. But probably so.

The previous weekend we went snowboarding (spent a small fortune and had a fabulous time) but leaving on Friday and coming home on Sunday leaves little time for things like laundry and lavatory duty). Oh, lest we forget about the fact that the slopes kicked my lily-white ass and I was effing beat. There was no energy to be mustered to do things like clean after snowboarding and traveling or before going to work.

The week before that I'm sure we were busy too... observing a real serious pre-ballet program in the City. One that he can start in the fall (the boy wants to dance the Nutcracker - yes, he's 5 and he has such lofty goals), helping one of Hubbie's friends by taping the boy to be on a pop up "no-no, that's a dangerous web site" video for their company, eating out as a treat, birthday party for the twins of friends we haven't seen in oh-too-long, Sunday Ballet/tap, and then fun with the French - whom, by the way, we adore and spend far to little time with because they live in Berkeley and that's oh, so freaking far away!

But back to today, this week, this weekend... Is Mercury in retrograde? I mean shit-fuck-piss-son-of-a-bitch, it seems like everything that I need to do is dependent on another person in some way, shape, or form, and damn if they aren't doing their part. All I do is spend time managing people and projects that I shouldn't have to manage. Okay, that's not totally true, but it really feels like people aren't taking seriously the work that they need to do for me. And I'm being forced to fight really hard to get them to do their stuff so that I can get my stuff done. And even when it is done I still have to fight, or find workarounds, or generally work harder because everyone else around seems to have found ways to work less, take less responsibility, and be okay with doing "what we can", or... OR?

My blood pressure was sky high today. Not because of any one thing. It was simply the culmination of many things; the many "fights" that happen at work, at home, in my head, while driving down the street, in my husband's head, that have just piled up. But now, more than ever, I am feeling very vulnerable.

Budget issues at the State and Federal levels do threaten my agency. And while my program is a main function of why the agency exists, my position is expendable (and my boss has reminded me that he held a position exactly like mine so he could take it over quite easily if needed). I don't want to be expendable or vulnerable so I feel as if I have to work harder than ever to make my worth known. I'm swamped catching up, cleaning up, and making things up as I go along.

Hubbie is struggling more than ever with his work, his health, his overcommitted calendar and he's not in a good space. Having to be responsible for his mom's problems doesn't help matters much. I had the most horrible dream of him having a long standing affair with someone at work that I had met and spent time with on several occasions. And my reaction in the dream was exactly like it was toward my high school boyfriend who cheated - with the girl that had introduced us and whom I called my best friend. It was petulant, angry, and inconsolable. And it was a dream that seemed to last forever.

The putting out fire mode, being in situations that do not allow me the time and space I need to be able to act "appropriately", is not where I like to be. And yet, it's always been there where I've been able to thrive. In a crazy kind of way, being in chaos has always fueled me to move. The movement was simply a cover, a way to deflect the shit that was being thrown at me. Trouble is, I don't like, have never liked chaos - or crazy - at all. So, I moved forward: succeed at or at least appear to be living a socially acceptable, normal life and sooner or later the craziness seems odd, and the internal compass "you can become anything, make your life, your relationships, anything you want them to be", "you are not bound to follow the destiny your makers have set for you" is automatic, innate, normal. Except when the chaos is overwhelming and uncontrollable; like it's been this month, this week, this day. When it's like this, it's not that easy to stay out of the momentum because it becomes muscle-memory-familiar and I simply respond in muscle-memory-familiar ways. Auto pilot. Fire dancing.

I think I need to keep exercising, keep running, keep focused on those things that make me physically strong. But I also need to be more mentally/psychically strong. I do believe I need learn to slow down and quiet the chaos in my head. To meditate.

Goodness knows staying up past 11pm isn't going to help!!! G'night y'all! And thanks for reading.

Short Day

2010-01-15T16:39:00.000-08:00

Muscle aches, yawn, cough, ready for a fight, cough again. Probably too much exercise, not enough food, and not enough sleep this week.

Work has been a bit stressful this week. Okay, this month has been extremely hectic. And I have been doing much more than I usually do. I think.

I'm trying to work around a situation at work that isn't really work-aroundable (sorry for making up words but that's how I'm feeling). Actually, it's probably not something I can manipulate to my advantage so I need to figure out how to cope and still get what I need done - so I don't get bitchy and angry like I did today. Not helpful to be that way.

So I started getting some space to figure that out by leaving work early to take a nap - in hopes of relieving the cough, aches, cough. Instead I watched Mad Men. Nonetheless I got some much needed rest.

I keep my fingers crossed that Twig continues his 4 night trend of sleeping in his bed all night long. Candy first thing in the morning is quite the motivator for him I guess. He doesn't quite understand that when I get more sleep that he benefits too, but someday he will. Like when his little person cuddles so close that he can't get a deep enough sleep to be 'a good night's sleep'.

G'night y'all.

Then and Now

2009-10-14T21:57:00.000-07:00

The look on your face does not maintain any secrets. You see me.

The expression on your face, the dart of your eyes; Your uncertainty... or is it dislike? Why? No matter, I've already caught on. "You're different! You aren't one of us. Stay away, I don't want you here."

Perhaps my face adequately expresses my thoughts of disdain for the interaction, desire for the not-gotten connection, and intense need for a new experience. Probably not.

It's been said many times before and I believe that it's true.

Neglect

2009-09-16T18:49:00.000-07:00

It's been far too long, my blog friends. So sorry.

My cat died. My body disobeys. My family and work command my time.

The cat was 19. She had cancer of the mouth. I should not say she died. I had her put down instead of letting her suffer and then die.

My lungs have been abused and will not revert to their healthier state. We have officially become one of those families that could go broke over not having adequate health insurance and prescription drug benefits. I am going to the gym at least 3 times a week and working on an exercise regimen that will keep me strong. That way if I do get sick, it will be a little easier for me to bounce back from it.

My son turns 5 in a couple of weeks and my husband is working his tushy off to try to get us ahead of the curve. My work is constantly at risk (if only minimally) of being cut or eliminated (that might be a bit over exaggerated) due to the Governor and State budget issues. All of these things point to change for the better.

Tuesday was my late father's birthday. I spent a lot of the day in a funk and finally realized that it would have been his birthday and that I miss him.

Wednesday was therapy day and I learned a lot. This therapist is amazingly good. I've been willing to talk about the possibility that I'm depressed - if not clinically - then by nurturing, and want to get out of my current isolative ways.

Today I'm sick. Neighbors are watching Twig while I rest. Uh, I mean, write (Wood is working till about 1am tonight).

There hasn't been time to sit and write lately. Facebook is a faster way to write but it's 1)mundane at best, 2)a time-suck and 3)I should give it up; focus on writing here instead.

This is boring stuff, I know. But for the moment, it's just practice for writing quickly and getting my message across concisely. Does it work?

Eulogy for a Cat

2009-07-05T22:13:00.000-07:00

How We Met – in the spring of 1991
A burly bo-hunk jock acquaintance (he actually was a right-wing Christian missionary assigned to the College to lure young girls into Church with his good looks so as to save their souls) told me of some friends of his that were in quite a predicament – they had this kitten – and because of it had been given an ultimatum. They had been told that the choice was theirs to make; it was either the cat or the apartment. Their response and plan was quite simple. The kitten would be sent to the pound. (apartments are much harder to come by than cats after all).

He had probably pegged me as a Crazy Cat Lady (as well as in need of soul-saving). After all, he had been to my house and knew I already had one cat.

Almost before he had completed his description of his friends’ problems, and with not one ounce of hesitation, I had agreed to take the cat. No, that's wrong - I didn't agree to take the cat, I decided to.

A couple of days later, Jock arranged for me to go to the girls' apartment to pick up the kitten. I would have never been invited to, nor willingly visited these girls or this apartment building under any other circumstance. But, I had been raised with the understanding that pets weren’t something to be ‘thrown away’ when it was inconvenient and accordingly, I was on a mission to do right by this cat. It wasn’t her fault that she had been adopted by people with limited foresight.

I cautiously walked into the apartment and see a sweet and rather demure cat sitting on one of the dining room chairs. I thought "poor kitty," asked her name, swooped her up into the cat carrier, and ran her home to Mr. K (my feral Grey Tuxedo Cat) as quickly as I could.

How We Lived
Mr. K and I had lived together alone for about a year when Maggie arrived on the scene. She made herself at home in no time, and within a few minutes of arriving in my apartment, had found herself a padded dining room chair and planted herself there as if there had been no real change in scenery. That evening, Mr. K and I were all cuddled up in the dark having a little snuggle fest, relaxing, and getting’ close to a full set of ‘ZZZ’s when all of a sudden out of nowhere that beast pounced on us – scaring the b’jeezus out of us. All three of us jumped about 3 feet off of the bed, pillows and comforter flying all over the place. Mr. K was gone – into the closet or under the bed – who knew where…or for how long… Oh, I was mad – and I let her know about my feelings too - it would take hours, maybe days for my feral friend to relax enough to show his face anywhere near me… or her. From that night forward, there was a battle for sleeping rights. You know who won. She would simply take what she wanted.

If you ever visited me, you met Maggie. Whether you were a cat person or not, upon your entrance to my home, she would introduce herself to you. And she did so very loudly. She was a talker like none other.

If you were an adult, she would find her way to your lap and scream until you gave her some love. And you would give your love. Because that’s what she wanted. If you liked cats, you'd give her a succession of firm pats on her haunches and while you did it she'd scream "mooorrrre, mooorrreee". Even after you had stopped. If you walked away, she’d follow, telling you what she wanted – over and over and over again. She was insatiable.

If you were a kid, she'd hiss at you. With ears pressed to her cheeks and her eyes almost closed, she’d try with all her might to remain invisible. But try as she may, it was not possible for her. She knew what she liked and what she didn’t like. She swatted at my 6 month old niece who was sleeping peacefully in her wicker bassinet on the living room floor. And even after being told that Maggie was a mean, nasty thing that didn't like kids and would scratch, Wood's niece touched Maggie on the paw (or some other equally non threatening part of her body) with her index finger, and in her unadulterated Maggie fashion slapped that girl upside her head – and left claw holes in her temple! She was not afraid to speak her mind and she would never retreat.

Because I lived mostly in apartments that didn't allow pets, Maggie and Mr. K were indoor cats. At first, the justification was property management companies and fear of getting caught. As time went on I was afraid of busy streets and things beyond my control (like the Radiator Fluid that had killed Miss Kitty a year earlier). Mr. K was afraid of his own shadow – he’d have died of fear had he been forced to be an outdoor cat (and I tried). Maggie would have transitioned well into being an outdoor cat but I kept her inside. It was wrong to do that. She made the best of it.

Maggie would play catch with any ball that was being bounced – sailing through the room, catching it in mid air and then flattening it – tennis balls, small basketballs, hand soccer balls twice her size. She would run from anywhere to hunt and eat when I said “Maggie, Spiiiiiddddeeeerrrrrr”. Once she stood up on her back legs, caught a fly between her paws, and then chowed-down (Obama was good but not that good). A Ping Pong Ball in the bathtub was one of her favorite games (that and beat the feral-frady-cat to a pulp or holler at your captors at the top of your lungs until they go insane). She drank only fresh water out of a coffee cup on the ledge of the bathtub. And at 10 years old she learned to use the toilet instead of a litter box. She pushed limits. She was fearless.

About two years ago, I gave in to her desires to be an outdoor cat. She’d been missing the litter box for years but when I found cat pee on Twig's bed … again … I kicked her out. You. Are. Now. An. Outdoor. Cat. She was resilient.

Even at 17, that old hag had the entire neighborhood of ghetto kitties under control. She managed for the most part to keep them off of her porch, out of her food and in respect of her. Only once did she get chased by (the crazy neighbor lady's) dog, or show up with a scratch on her nose. She was fierce.

But time, and time living outside, took its toll. She lost weight, struggled to walk on cold days, and was clearly confused on others. Her fur was matted, dirty, stinky and full of fleas. If it weren’t for the all-too-familiar-howl that was her meow, I probably wouldn’t have recognized her on some occasions. In her old age she liked children - she'd be smack dab in the middle of whatever mix took place in our court – talking everyone up and getting whatever love Twig and the other neighborhood kids would give along the way. She always got what she needed.

She came with the name and for some inexplicable reason it never seemed right to change it. She was also known as: Mistress, Mistress Maggie, YOU BITCH!, Mama, Sweet Mama, Sweet Maggie, Mama's Girl, The Beast, Miss Maggie Mae, Mags, Mag Pie, Old Lady, and Maggit. She was a piece of work.

Maggie was a monumental pain in the ass and one of my closest companions for almost half of my life. We were together almost twice as long as my husband and I have been and 4 times longer than my son has been around. We've lived together in 8 apartments, in 5 cities; witnessed countless marriages, births, deaths, losses and loves. Over a period of 18 years.

In The End
We gave her simple luxuries for the last years of her life: wet food (aka: kitty crack), pillows to sleep on, kitty hotels when we traveled, pets and less firm pats on her haunches – just to make her holler in delight every now and again. She was consistent.

She had become noticeably uncomfortable from what the doctor guessed was either rotting teeth or cancer of the mouth – untreatable on either account for a cat that was “at 19, she was at the end of her life-cycle”. She wasn’t looking good.

On Friday July 3rd, 2009, I let her in the house for a little bit of cat nip, drinks of water from a coffee cup on the edge of the tub, and a nap in the sun in the Boy's room. She couldn’t comfortably eat the nip, was noticeably afraid of every move the kid made, and huddled under the bed with a nasty look on her face. She was frail.

We cuddled for a while in the examination room. She nuzzled her face in my arm and rested her chin on her paws like she would do whenever I sat at the computer writing. But even though she purred her tail swatted me every now and again. This was not the girl I was used to. She was suffering.

I stayed with her until the very last moment of her life. After 18 years, that obnoxious, loud, dog like old-lady of a flea monger, simply because of time, proximity, and really soft fur, burrowed so deep into my heart and soul, that upon her death, I felt as if I’d died too. She was loved.

Movin' on up

2009-04-23T08:13:00.001-07:00

Normally I get strength from the knowledge that I have moved forward and made significant progress in my life. Mostly my past keeps me moving forward, propels me even. Sometimes, though, it catches me, holds me tight, and wills me to give in to it; to be mired by the notion that somehow not embracing it is to deny my Self.

What Are You Doing Now?

2009-02-28T18:01:00.000-08:00

I'm off duty for a while this afternoon. Wood was at an all day training so he's outside with Twig and the neighborhood kids being the adult supervision as they ride bikes and act like the kids that they are.

I'm simultaneously drinking a glass of red wine, simmering Beef Shank for "Like French Onion Soup", browning tofu for tonight's dinner of Tassajara Tofu Cabbage Grill fooling around on the computer [by the way, are you on facebook yet? please send me a friend request if you know my non-pen name].

My Asthma is bad lately; new medications are working for short bursts of time and it's kinda got me down. I hate to take drugs and right now I'm taking many of them and several times a day.

We went to the tax man last week and learned that all of the working our asses off to get money in the bank was good - only in that we aren't in the red come April 15th, 2009. We made a fair amount of money last year and because we have little in reserves it feels as if we are living hand to mouth - paycheck to paycheck. And it kinda freaks me out a bit. I'll manage. We'll manage. Even though we're like 90% of the rest of the United States, we've both got our jobs and we've all got health insurance. And I've planted a garden. We're resourceful people and we can do anything we set our minds to.

Which reminds me. I haven't recently told you of my weight loss expedition. I've been at it since way back in August when I realized, out of sheer necessity, on a shopping excursion, that my bra size was a 34DDD. Yes, folks that is a TRIPLE D. READ: Thank you Nordstrom Lingerie Department for simply revealing the fact that I have really freaking big boobs. Now, you may say that it's not a big deal. Lots of people have big boobs. Hey now; I am not a tall woman - in sheer inches - a 34DDD was stretching it a bit. After all, I haven't been breastfeeding for more than 2 years.

A couple of serious self-talk conversations later and I's at a WeightWatchers meeting. Okay, I really got some support from Wood too and now...

I've lost nearly 20 lbs. But as of this afternoon, only one D.

I'm on a mission to lose 15 or so more lbs and two D's. Stay tuned.

Chicken Payback

2009-02-27T00:18:00.000-08:00

Fun, fun, fun!

Alter Ego Found in a Google Search...

2009-02-25T07:28:00.001-08:00

"Wonelle became, like so many other vigilantes before her, an overzealous defender of peace and justice. Her sense of just ice compels her to take bounties only on those who fit her definition of evil, but her Hippocratic Programming prevents her from lethally damaging her quarries."

April  suggested in a recent post that you type in “[your name] looks like” (among other things) in a Google search and see what you get. Wonelle isn't as common as say April in the name category and most of my search results came back with my Conversations blog posts. But the one above was kinda cool. Especially because it's supposedly a fictional gaming character with special character abilities. And I don't do gaming. At all. 

More Random Things About Me

2009-02-20T18:14:00.001-08:00

While cleaning out the 'drafts' folder of my email-box yesterday, I ran across this random things list that I wrote - some time ago - in response to a post on someone else's blog, I think. Even though I posted another "Random Things About Me" post recently, I decided to add this one as well because it was rather interesting to see how similar the two were. And how different they are too. Maybe people that know me already know these things. Or, maybe I'm more #11 than I'd like to admit to myself....

I'm addicted to reading It's Friday...
It took me a very long to remember some things that happened in the year 1989. But once I did, I remembered that it was a turning point year for me.
I reflect a lot, suffer despite it, and more often than not, focus on the negative stuff.
I've tackled a few nasty demons in my lifetime.
I don't think I'm negative by nature, I think those demons sometimes get the best of me. Despite them I laugh, love and enjoy life.
I have lot's of my own philosophies and I'll share them with you if you want. Like this one: you can ask me any question you want however, I reserve the right to not answer it. Oh yeah, I'll share my philosophies with you even if you don't want.
People will often describe me as Sassy. Or Difficult or Bitchy or intense, or something equally negative. I agree to being all of those things and more - they're some of my better qualities.
I always tell the Truth. Even if it stings. Sometimes even when it's not in my best interest to do so.
I've been learning to hold my tongue. Even if it hurts. Especially if it's in someone else's best interest for me to do so.
Some people often annoy me to no end. I'm sure the feeling is mutual.
Yea, there are moments that I'm full of myself.
For many years I had a bumper sticker on my car that said "the more people I meet, the more I like my cat".
Sometimes I'm lonely.
The best thing I ever did was talk myself into a low-paying part-time receptionist job at a start-up new-media school.
I met this really cool guy there. Actually, I met more than one cool guy there - but I met the most important cool guy of my life because I worked there.
The next best thing I did was make a killer bare handed catch and throw as catcher to throw the runner out first base. That's when my Boyfriend knew he'd be my Husband. It was glorious on both accounts.
To date, the day my Husband and I got married was the single best day of my life.
My Husband revels in my sassiness and I revel in him because of it.
From the time I was really young, I wanted to be married and have 4 Boys.
Just before I found out that I was pregnant, I thought seriously that my Husband and I could be happy without kids.
I was relieved (actually, elated) when the Ultrasound Technician said the baby was a boy.
For me, being a Mom isn't and hasn't been all it's cracked up to be.
My mom was, but wasn't, a Fabulous Mom. She was a wreck. Still is.
I was severely depressed for the first two years of my son's life. Not so much anymore.
Breastfeeding was horrible.
My kid is one of the best people I've ever met. Not because he came from me, either. I could tell when I was pregnant he was something special (and probably going to be a drummer).
I want to be a Fabulous Mom. No... I want my son to think of me as a Fabulous Mom.
Catty girls (or women), cliques, and the like don't do it for me. Play straight and fair or prepare to be told about yourself.
I'll avoid a fight whenever possible. Except when I can't. After those fights, I'll try to make sense of the senselessness.
Some days, I miss being lonely. And being able to go to the gym whenever I want, and to take a shower alone, and read books all day and all night long, and do art, and have sex with reckless abandon like I once did.
My favorite move of all time is the Black and White version of Elephant Man.
Growing up my initials were MR. The kids teased me and said I was Mentally Retarded.
The better part of my career has been working with people considered to be Mentally Retarded. I'm not special or patient for working with "those" people, thank-you-very-much. Please don't say that - I think it's just plain rude.
Once, when I was hungry, I decided to try Sushi. I figured, "I've never tried Japanese food before". Sushi is my favorite food on the face of the earth! Well, so far. I'll try just about anything once. Food is good.
The Sushi Chef that fed me Japanese food for the first time walked me down the aisle.
I love a good adventure.

Tuckered...

2009-02-14T19:01:00.000-08:00

I'm not angry anymore. It's interesting what a bit of time can do. Well, time and a good temper-tantrum.

Wood has agreed to give up a bit of responsibility in one thing in order to take on some more in another. Apparently I will not even notice the other (newest) obligation as meetings will take place during the workday.

Fine. Really; in my heart of hearts I know he wants to partake in additional activities that will improve his professional standing. And in all honesty, I want to support that. It's just hard to adjust to the changes.

What is a real struggle lately is the rage - yes, an unadulterated and fierce rage - emanating from our most adorable 4.5 year old. We aren't sure exactly where it comes from but when it does, it's complete with running, throwing, hitting, kicking, spitting, and biting. It's generally directed at me. It's generally something that lasts longer than I have energy for. And it's an emotional roller coaster.

My reproductive dreams aren't recurring lately. They are quelled by my husband's seeming unwillingness to discuss the subject of a 'numero dos' and the anger of Twig; the fear that we don't have what it takes to manage him as it is, and the wonder that surfaces sometimes after our super-duper intense start-and-stop-on-a-dime battles with him: will the bi-polar disorder my father had be present in the life of my offspring?

At the same time I feel stronger than I've felt in a while. My asthma which has been terribly out of control for months now seems to be responding to new medication. My husband seems to be in sync with his feelings of wanting to move on from his current employer - and willing to act on those feelings. I've been working out a few times a week - even lost 17 lbs (only about 17 more to go) - and my back pain seems to be a bit less intense.

But I'm beat. More literally than otherwise. I wonder if tomorrow there will be bruises on my face or simply remnants of my bruised ego. I'm gonna sleep on it and get back to you later.

Delayed Reaction: Furious

2009-02-10T17:48:00.001-08:00

I'm furious.

Exactly which part of "Don't you DARE [take on another elected position/work responsibility]!" do you think didn't get through?

Every last freaking bit of it.

It took me almost a full day to become one with it. But man am I pissed.

He said he called to tell them he couldn't do it. But she already put his name on the ballot. Asked him to run anyway and if he won to resign. She was worried that they would run unopposed if he didn't.

What was he supposed to do? That was his question of me. And I didn't even get mad when he said it. I knew in my heart of hearts that he wanted to do it.

Clearly she saw him coming a mile away: New, young guy that probably wants to go places. I can rope him in...

She did just that. Their slate ran un-freaking-opposed. He was a god-damned shoe in.

Worst part of it all: my husband does not resign.

So I'm seeing red: again, family comes second. Or at least that's how it seems. And again, home comes last.

Now, even if we wanted to, we don't have the time to take a vacation. Finish the 'Man Room', socialize, or anything else that doesn't resemble work.

Whoever that b*tch is that manipulated my husband into doing this - I swear I'll beat her ass when I meet her.

Oh, he's gonna get it, too. Don't you worry.

25 Random Things About Me...

2009-02-08T21:23:00.000-08:00

I've never participated in a Meme, until now. When it came my way, I almost didn't do it. It felt weird at first. But then as I considered it more, it began to become interesting...to think about what random things 1) other people might find interesting and 2) that I'd really like to share about myself on the internet. It got my mind working and my fingers typing, writing something that isn't work related. It was kinda fun.

Since I finished, I've been thinking that the idea writing of "25 random things about me" could be modified (thanks to a couple of friends) to write 25 things about a particular person, point in time, or subject - to really remember something important - and then use it as a starting off point for a story. Yeah. A story.

Please feel free to write your own 25 things and share. That would be interesting, too.

1. I found myself when I found myself in Fresno.

2. I'm a "glass half-empty" kinda gal. It's not really my nature to be that way. It's really the way of my nurture.

3. I met my dad at a Walgreen's Coffee Shop in a shopping Mall when I was 11 years old.

4. In 1985 I was the only - and probably the first ever - girl to take wood shop in my high school. The instructor "Dick" (No, really), had to re-think his response to kids asking to go to the bathroom when it came to me. He realized that he couldn't tell me to put a rubber band on it.

5. In high school also I drove a $300 puke orange 1971 Ford Pinto (yes, the kind that exploded if rear-ended), partook in a few less than desirable activities, dated a guy 5 years older than me, and worked in a toy shop as a gift wrapper.

6. My step-dad would never stop to let me go to the bathroom when we were on family road-trips. No matter how much I cried, begged, and pleaded. He'd say "at the next exit" and every time, he'd pass it by. I thought he was being a mean, horrible, and awful person. Then I grew up and began to understand what it must have been like to be an interracial couple in the 70's.

7. It felt good to be on television spouting liberalism while at the same time serving country club folk who underwrote, in the form of automatic 18% gratuities, my non-work time activities. Yes it did.

8. Boys are better than girls. Mostly. There are a few exceptions.

9. I share my birthday with George Carlin, Burt Bacharac, Florence Nightingale, Katharine Hepburn, and one of my best friends - Bridget.

10. My BEFRI talked me into attending community college. She convinced me that the toy-shop gig wasn't going to take me where I wanted to go. Despite the fact that I had no idea where the hell that was...

11. Growing up, the library was my sanctuary. I love telling my son: "we can find out more about that - I'm sure there's a book at the library."

12. Can you imagine, playing the flute (2nd chair), smoking cigarettes, and being asthmatic...concurrently?

13. I like rules, boundaries, and structure. Except when it doesn't suit me. And it used to not suit me most of the time. I'm a little older and wiser now.

14. This meme thing has been a great way to practice remembering.

15. I blog in relative anonymity. I want to write my story and have it read in relative celebrity. I'd love to get comments from readers more often (although, I adore the ones I get from a couple of regular readers!).

16. I'm the oldest of 6; 3 are siblings by marriage and 2 by blood. But technically, I'm an only child.

17. Being called a "disobedient wench" was one of the best compliments I've ever received.

18. I once saw a tarot reader who said I'd be very lucky throughout my life. Past, present, future - she was right on.

19. The best day of my life was the day I married Wood. I make a conscious decision to be married every waking moment of every day. Because we can make 'this' be anything we want it to be. That's the benefit of having few good role models. You know what you don't want to do.

20. I'm competitive. Mostly with myself. I often strive to be a type B+ personality.

21. I want to travel the world. Anywhere - everywhere...

22. I have a dream of living in NY, NY.

23. Pregnancy, labor, delivery, and breastfeeding were the most difficult things I've ever done with my body.

24. Whenever considering names for a child it is important to test not only the way the full name sounds in the fit of a parent's anger, but also in the fit of a lover's passion. They grow up and do grown up things after all.

25. You can ask me anything you want to. And while I'll very likely answer any questions with complete and utter honesty, I always reserve the right to refuse to answer. Just in case.

26. I'm not good at following rules. I'll probably keep adding to this list. Maybe someday it'll be 100 random things about me...

Thanks for reading.

More Dreams

2009-01-30T21:32:00.001-08:00

Had the dream again the other night. Except this time I wasn't strong and ready to give birth.

I was busy helping a friend work toward getting a new job, moving toward a place where she would be able to get what she wanted in her life. Coaching, supporting, guiding toward a new and necessary place. So that we could find our way on to writing a new, exciting, happier chapter in our relationship.

But the pregnant part was, well, more like my real life experience was with Twig. Not so strong, not so womanly, not so sure about this whole being a mommy thing. The labor wasn't entirely right and my support system, was irrelevant. My bow-tie wearing OB wasn't around. I was alone in a dark and lonely place. Unsure of what I was undertaking and completely on my own to do it.

It was downright Scary. Just like real life can be.

And that's pretty much a metaphor for my life right now. Wood wants a new gig. I want another baby. He's willing to talk about it. I'm scared of being alone in my desire and if he's also interested, incapable of getting what I want because of my health, psychological state, age, or any other intangible and unpredictable reason. I ain't no spring chicken any more. I have considered that "middle age" number looming large in a few months could be spurring this on a little bit.

But the truth is that it's not a logical desire. It's biological. Mostly. I've been watching way too much Learning Channel TV, I guess. These people and other middle-america folk like 'em make me a little uncomfortable. On the one hand they've helped me remember that I've always wanted a large family! (four boys was what I always told my mom) On the other, that I believe that we, the left-leaning-tree-hugging-birkenstock-wearing-critical thinking-granola-ites that we are should have more kids! YES, really, we should. Frankly, I think it's rather irresponsible not to have more than one kid. Or worse yet, only a cat or a dog. Especially when they and many of their friends are having small villages all by their little lonesomes. They're growing an army of conservative voters.

Our friends' pets, treated better than some children of this world (nevertheless love 'em to death), can't vote!

You heard me correctly. My desire to have another little rug-rat that will simply complicate my life in oh-so-many ways I can't begin to fathom, is not only physical. It's Political.

But that's all of the words I have on the subject for right now. It's not too well argued. I apologize for that.

Memories

2009-01-09T19:18:00.000-08:00

They said I'd never forget. Well, I haven't. I'm sure I never will.

Yet, there's this recurring dream that wakes me up every few weeks. I had it again last night.

I'm pregnant. Feeling the baby move. Big belly, glowing, strong, healthy, ready to give birth.

We decided a long time ago - as a couple - that we didn't want to do the new-parent thing again. Really, we talked about all of the pros and cons and financial considerations and decided quite rationally that it's something we don't want to do.

But this dream keeps waking me up. And it's not just a night-time dream. I think. So when it woke me this morning, I told Wood about it.

"So is that what you want, to be pregnant?

"I don't think so. I mean, when I think rationally about all of the things that being pregnant means, it's pretty easy to talk myself out of it. But, at the same time, I want a different experience. But that's not rational, and even though I don't understand it completely, you don't want to do it again.

"So, you're saying that you want to have another kid but you've not talked to me about it because I said don't want to do it?

"Well, yeah, you don't want to. Besides, do you enjoy being a parent?

"Yeah! I do. But I don't know about managing everything - I don't do well with all of the pressure.

My sister and I talked today. Turns out that last night she had a dream that I was pregnant.

Weird.

I decided a few weeks ago that I want to write my story. Wood laughed and said he was sure it was a fleeting thought. That I was high on the success of my friend that has recently had her first book published.

At first it was going to be "15-20, for life". It would be about those formative years spent trying have an adult relationship and failing miserably, only to find those experiences as the impetus for a completely different life. I've been thinking about it (pen name or real? in secrecy or public? to friends or family? How much of *my* truth to write? what about the blank spaces, how do I fill those in? Memoir? Novel? Story? Happy ending? I started another blog page but haven't posted yet.). I'm still trying to get past the laughter that emanated from he who is my life partner now, to find the thesis statement - my voice - for 15-20 for life. But it's not 15-20 for life. It's much more than that.

I can't quite get the total story yet. I think it starts somewhere in an oh-so-safe-suburban home where an 8 year old girl writes about her life and frustrations with complete and utter honesty in her notebook only get an ass-whoopin' that haunts her ability to write to this day. "So, you think suburbia's safe, huh?"

I'm trying to give birth. To something brave, strong, healthy and true. It's a story. And maybe a baby too.

No resolutions but maybe revelations...

2009-01-05T14:23:00.000-08:00

As my boy sleeps, and my husband works, I clean the house. Cleaning and organizing the bathroom, medicine closet, toy chest, desk - is the time when I collect and organize my thoughts.

I've been off work for the past 10 days. My "vacation" is spent at home with Twig because his school is on Winter Holiday and the Holiday Season is the busiest time of year at Wood's work.

Only one of our play dates worked out due to the illnesses of other kids, and my list of things to do: build corner bookshelves for Twig's room. When I mentioned it to Wood he said "You, and power tools?" So I asked a friend of ours who's been remodeling his entire kitchen to help me. His response was "Sure. But why doesn't Wood do it?" We met and did most of the work on Tuesday.

Twig was a bit of a handful Thursday and Friday. Turns out his power surge was the precursor to being sick with a cough and stuffy nose. By Sunday he had an elevated temperature, the day before I'm supposed to go back to work.

I planned to go to my Weight Watchers meeting and the Gym on Saturday morning. As I was preparing to leave, Wood said "Don't go. I'll miss you." I had an amazing 4.2 lb. weight loss, ran into the wife of a friend who I'd like to spend more time with, and had a fantastic workout - 45 minutes of cardio and a bunch of stretching.

Saturday night I hung out with a couple of friends. Wood was melancholy as soon as I began to get ready for my departure - by putting Twig to bed.

It feels good taking care of myself.

When we discussed the fact that Twig would not go to school on Monday, it was almost without hesitation that I was to be the one staying home. I sort of set it up that way - offered to stay home on Monday because I have to work on Tuesday. Wood certainly did not argue. If anything, he kept quiet.

This morning I asked if there was any way he'd be able to come home early so I could go to work for a couple of hours. After all, I have been off and nearly 100% responsible for parenting for the past 10 days. Yes, it was my fault that I was on again today - I should have expected him to stay home. But, I guess in a typical female sort of way, I wanted him to step up to the plate and say "No, no. You've been home for the last 10 days. You need to go to work, I'll stay home." But he didn't. And he probably never will.

I think he's depressed, unhappy and lonely. Disinterested in being a parent. And he's so much more emotional and sensitive than I'd ever imagined.

He isn't talking about it - with me or anyone. Instead he drinks a couple of drinks a day, has been asking for sex continuously, and is generally nasty to me and Twig. Based upon his recent netflix activity (I'm through with white girls - for this longtime commitment-phobe to settle down, he'll have to drastically change his ways; Romance and Cigarettes - this twist on the not-so-ordinary tale of adultery and salvation; The Big Bad Swim - follows the life-altering journeys of soon-to-be-divorced schoolteacher, stripper, and swim instructor Noah. Held back by their past heartbreaks, the three learn that sometimes the only way to move on is to take a really big plunge.), I'd say something is going on.

God forbid I'm cleaning the bathroom and he sideswipes me.

Power Surge

2009-01-02T09:01:00.000-08:00

Why in the world do we take young children to the grocery store? Besides the obvious need to buy food to feed them and keep them alive?

We did have a discussion before we got out of the car about what we were going to buy (soyrizo, tortillas, cheese, tomatoes and fruit). We did let him walk and ride the cart until he nearly knocked it over on top of some poor unsuspecting lady trying to choose sweet potatoes. We did explain that we had to pay for and wash the apple before eating it. But he didn't quit.

We were doing pretty well in the produce section. Even though he was saying, at the top of his lungs, "Mommy, I want cheese... I want a smoothie... I want a sandwich... I want a ripe mango..." all the while bouncing around in the cart like a caged wild animal trying to escape. But by the time we made it to the refrigerated prepackaged salsa section, my requests to "Please sit down and stop grabbing at the food." were falling on deaf ears.

You undoubtedly know how this goes... There are five things on your list. The plan is to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. But the kid starts in, and your spouse is asking questions. There are people to dodge, there are labels to read and choices to make. And somethings gotta give.

In this particular instance, I didn't forget anything on my list. Instead, while looking directly into his eyes I said "Damn it Twig, you need to stop because I'm about ready to knock you up-side your head!" Just then, I looked up to see a complete stranger give me a look of sheer disgust. Her face said it all: "You are an awful-horrible-parent-person-and-I-don't-like-your-tone." Just before I turned around and walked away from the cart and my lack of parenting skill, I'm sure that my face said to her something like "and if you keep looking at me, you're next bitch."

Wood took over right about then. I grabbed salsa, tortilla chips and cheese and we all got in line as quickly as possible.

We should have known better than to take a nap-free 4 year old to the market after riding bikes at the park for nearly an hour and a half. We should have known he was due for a 'power surge'.

Random Things About Wonelle

2009-01-01T10:56:00.000-08:00

Unedited so sorry for any redundancies.

I found myself when I found myself in Fresno.
I'm a "glass half-empty" kinda gal. It's not really my nature to be that way. It's really the way of my nurture.
I met my dad at a Walgreen's Coffee Shop in a shopping Mall when I was 11 years old.
. In 1985 I was the only - and probably the first ever - girl to take wood shop in my high school. The instructor "Dick" (No, really), had to re-think his response to kids asking to go to the bathroom when it came to me. He realized that he couldn't tell me to put a rubber band on it.
In high school also I drove a $300 puke orange 1971 Ford Pinto (yes, the kind that exploded if rear-ended), partook in a few less than desirable activities, dated a guy 5 years older than me, and worked in a toy shop as a gift wrapper.
My step-dad would never stop to let me go to the bathroom when we were on family road-trips. No matter how much I cried, begged, and pleaded. He'd say "at the next exit" and every time, he'd pass it by. I thought he was being a mean, horrible, and awful person. Then I grew up and began to understand what it must have been like to be an interracial couple in the 70's.
It felt good to be on television spouting liberalism while at the same time serving country club folk who underwrote, in the form of automatic 18% gratuities, my non-work time activities. Yes it did.
Boys are better than girls. Mostly. There are a few exceptions.
I share my birthday with George Carlin, Burt Bacharac, Florence Nightingale, Katharine Hepburn, and one of my best friends - Bridget.
My BEFRI talked me into attending community college. She convinced me that the toy-shop gig wasn't going to take me where I wanted to go. Despite the fact that I had no idea where the hell that was...
Growing up, the library was my sanctuary. I love telling my son: "we can find out more about that - I'm sure there's a book at the library."
Can you imagine, playing the flute (2nd chair), smoking cigarettes, and being asthmatic...concurrently?
I like rules, boundaries, and structure. Except when it doesn't suit me. And it used to not suit me most of the time. I'm a little older and wiser now.
This meme thing has been a great way to practice remembering.
I blog in relative anonymity. I want to write my story and have it read in relative celebrity. I'd love to get comments from readers more often (although, I adore the ones I get from a couple of regular readers!).
I'm the oldest of 6; 3 are siblings by marriage and 2 by blood. But technically, I'm an only child.
Being called a "disobedient wench" was one of the best compliments I've ever received.
I once saw a tarot reader who said I'd be very lucky throughout my life. Past, present, future - she was right on.
The best day of my life was the day I married Wood. I make a conscious decision to be married every waking moment of every day. Because we can make 'this' be anything we want it to be. That's the benefit of having few good role models. You know what you don't want to do.
I'm competitive. Mostly with myself. I often strive to be a type B+ personality.
I want to travel the world. Anywhere - everywhere...
I have a dream of living in NY, NY.
Pregnancy, labor, delivery, and breastfeeding were the most difficult things I've ever done with my body.
Whenever considering names for a child it is important to test not only the way the full name sounds in the fit of a parent's anger, but also in the fit of a lover's passion. They grow up and do grown up things after all.
You can ask me anything you want to. And while I'll very likely answer any questions with complete and utter honesty, I always reserve the right to refuse to answer. Just in case.
I'm not good at following rules. I'll probably keep adding to this list. Maybe someday it'll be 100 random things about me..
I'm addicted to reading It's Friday...
It took me a very long to remember some things that happened in the year 1989. But once I did, I remembered that it was a turning point year for me.
I reflect a lot, suffer despite it, and more often than not, focus on the negative stuff.
I've tackled a few nasty demons in my lifetime.
I don't think I'm negative by nature, I think those demons sometimes get the best of me. Despite them I laugh, love and enjoy life.
I have lot's of my own philosophies and I'll share them with you if you want. Like this one: you can ask me any question you want however, I reserve the right to not answer it. Oh yeah, I'll share my philosophies with you even if you don't want.
People will often describe me as Sassy. Or Difficult or Bitchy or intense, or something equally negative. I agree to being all of those things and more - they're some of my better qualities.
I always tell the Truth. Even if it stings. Sometimes even when it's not in my best interest to do so.
I've been learning to hold my tongue. Even if it hurts. Especially if it's in someone else's best interest for me to do so.
Some people often annoy me to no end. I'm sure the feeling is mutual.
Yea, there are moments that I'm full of myself.
For many years I had a bumper sticker on my car that said "the more people I meet, the more I like my cat".
Sometimes I'm lonely.
The best thing I ever did was talk myself into a low-paying part-time receptionist job at a start-up new-media school.
I met this really cool guy there. Actually, I met more than one cool guy there - but I met the most important cool guy of my life because I worked there.
The next best thing I did was make a killer bare handed catch and throw as catcher to throw the runner out first base. That's when my Boyfriend knew he'd be my Husband. It was glorious on both accounts.
To date, the day my Husband and I got married was the single best day of my life.
My Husband revels in my sassiness and I revel in him because of it.
From the time I was really young, I wanted to be married and have 4 Boys.
Just before I found out that I was pregnant, I thought seriously that my Husband and I could be happy without kids.
I was relieved (actually, elated) when the Ultrasound Technician said the baby was a boy.
For me, being a Mom isn't and hasn't been all it's cracked up to be.
My mom was, but wasn't, a Fabulous Mom. She was a wreck. Still is.
I was severely depressed for the first two years of my son's life. Not so much anymore.
Breastfeeding was horrible.
My kid is one of the best people I've ever met. Not because he came from me, either. I could tell when I was pregnant he was something special (and probably going to be a drummer).
I want to be a Fabulous Mom. No... I want my son to think of me as a Fabulous Mom.
Catty girls (or women), cliques, and the like don't do it for me. Play straight and fair or prepare to be told about yourself.
I'll avoid a fight whenever possible. Except when I can't. After those fights, I'll try to make sense of the senselessness.
Some days, I miss being lonely. And being able to go to the gym whenever I want, and to take a shower alone, and read books all day and all night long, and do art, and have sex with reckless abandon like I once did.
My favorite move of all time is the Black and White version of Elephant Man.
Growing up my initials were MR. The kids teased me and said I was Mentally Retarded.
The better part of my career has been working with people considered to be Mentally Retarded. I'm not special or patient for working with "those" people, thank-you-very-much. Please don't say that - I think it's just plain rude.
Once, when I was hungry, I decided to try Sushi. I figured, "I've never tried Japanese food before". Sushi is my favorite food on the face of the earth! Well, so far. I'll try just about anything once. Food is good.
The Sushi Chef that fed me Japanese food for the first time walked me down the aisle.
I love a good adventure.

Synapse Lapse

2008-12-31T14:16:00.000-08:00

For the life of me, I could not muster any of the brainpower needed today to shop at IKEA - IKEA, people. It's IKEA, you say? NO! There's no excuse - Twig decided that he wanted to go to IKEA's childwatch so that I could shop alone. Of course I let him go - free childcare?!

I simply wandered around the store with only the memory of a memory of what I wanted, much less needed, to get to work on Twig's bedroom project that's been clamoring around my mind. Just like the faint, illegible marks on a chalkboard after it's been erased, my mind wouldn't let me see anything - everything was all smeared together; dirty, cloudy and dusty.

My mind is gone. Gone, I tell you. And no, this is not temporary. It happens all the bleeping time.

Even when I do have the time and space to think - unencumbered by the clamor of my family - my ideas don't form into anything substantive. And don't even mention the times when I'm getting paid to use my melon, or when I have an audience (especially of my peers) - things get even worse.

That word, you know the one... that fantabulous SAT word worth, like, 100 points, that used to sit there on the tip of my tongue for a second or two and then find it's way into the conversation at the perfect time, with the perfect cadence...well, it can't seem to make the four inch journey from my head to my mouth. My words aren't anywhere near my tongue any more. They must be in my little pinkie toe.

What the you-know-what? I'm not pregnant so that's an unreasonable excuse. No longer breastfeeding. I'm not 40 (yet).

Jeez.

Treasured Time

2008-12-30T18:12:00.000-08:00

A week or so ago I got a bug-up-my-butt to build corner shelves for Twig's room. Wood's not interested in doing such a project with me. Maybe he doesn't want me using 'his' tools. Who knows? So, I asked a friend who has been rebuilding his entire kitchen to help me out.

Sure, I absolutely could have done it on my own. But it would have taken 4 times as long and created 20 times the frustration. And it's something I've always done with the men in my life. Mom's first husband, Mr. T (and the boys) in High School Wood Shop, Crooked Nose Tom, Uncle Mike, Wood, and now, Twig and Eee.

Working on this project made me think of the times spent with these great people. I miss Crooked Nose Tom in particular. He was quite the craftsman, and we spent some of our best father-daughter time re-finishing furniture, building beautiful and functional things, in his little garage worksho p.

Since the project is a little less than half done, there will probably be more on this subject. Actually, there will be a photo at least.

Finding our voices

2008-12-20T14:17:00.000-08:00

Last night, I had a dream about needing to quit smoking, an appointment with the doctor, and being pregnant with another September baby. It was at the exact same time hubbie was having a dream that someone was breaking into our house (and - accidentally - hit me in the face).

So, I went to an on-line dream dictionary and learned that smoking really means that I have trouble letting people in my life. What I really need to do is stop trying to shield myself and others from my emotions (that could be dangerous).

The Doctor could be one of three things; strife amongst members of my family (check), a need for emotional and spiritual healing (check); it could be highlighting some medical concerns (check) and/or indicate the need for a check up (can you say Asthma out of control?).

The pregnancy piece is a bit more complicated. I think for me it represents the "birth of a new idea, direction, project or goal". When I told Wood about it, he laughed at me. The dream interpretation also said that pregnancy may also symbolize some aspect of my personal life that is growing or changing. And while I can't identify exactly what that could be at the moment, the piece of the dream that included the month of September apparently signifies a positive outlook - even good luck and fortune. I think that's very nice.

On the other hand, Wood is dreaming of our home being broken into is a bit disconcerting. This is what the website says about that: To dream that your house is broken into, suggests that you are feeling violated. It may refer to a particular relationship or current situation in your life. Alternatively, it indicates that some unconscious material is attempting to make itself known. There are some aspects of yourself that you have denied. I hope he figures it out and moves forward.

I'm busy thinking about my strategy.

Underlying psychosis

2008-12-18T20:27:00.000-08:00

I received my long-awaited copies of Sweet Charlotte's Seventh Mistake today and was consumed with reading every single page the moment I got home.

"Wow, I've never seen you this way before" Said Hubbie.

"That's not true; I was like this when your mom turned me on to the Octavia Butler books. Remember? It was before Twig."

Reading the Flowers in the Attic books as a teenager, I was exactly the same way. Compulsive and mesmerized.

This is the same. But different.

I'm mesmerized by the story not just because it's written by someone I know. But because it's the story of someone that I know that I knew way back when. No, more like she knew her.

We're not them anymore. And still she can't be conjured up (or maybe she won't be conjured up). The compulsion centers on the possibility that reading and re-reading her memories and studying her photos will miraculously allow some deeply buried memory to break through. To allow a breakthrough - before something unexpected surfaces and she rages like she would have, way back when.

It's got me thinking... maybe she can't remember for the same reasons her memories are so vivid. Could it be that each is a form of acceptance of what was and what could never be?

No. Her fears have been faced; published for the whole world to see. She's simply afraid to unearth... something...

A Stitch In Time

2008-12-11T06:34:00.000-08:00

As I wrote Two Decades, the sadness crept it's way into me again. Indeed, I had set most of it aside as I read the email. I was at work after all and even though I have an office with a door, it simply was an inappropriate time to experience the crusty and oh-so-complex feelings around the man that I fell in love with (at first sight) when I was 15 years old.

By the time I clicked the PUBLISH POST button, the tears were unsuspectingly welling up just as they had when I read his response. As I re-read the post to ensure there weren't too many obvious errors that needed to be edited after the fact, my cheeks were well streaked. Despite the fact that I was the parent-of-the-morning-on-duty and that I had closed the laptop (as if doing so would shield me from the surge building), it all came pouring out. Hoping for a few moments to feel (and process) in private, and that the shower would be less enticing than toys, I mustered up all the strength in my gut to tell Twig with my usual voice that I was going to bathe. Thank god he was engrossed in something.

The process of shampoo, detangling solution, soaping up and rinsing off was slower than usual as I sobbed and gasped for air during the entire routine. When I stepped out, my face, staring back at me in the mirror, was unfamiliar. I don't recognize, nor understand, me at this moment.

The last time I experienced such a wave of unbridled emotion was a couple of years ago when my Dad died. And about 6 years before that when my step dad died.

But my First Love is not dead. And as you know, he never was.

The truth is that our relationship was so tumultuous that when I was done, I walked away and never looked back.

Until. An. Email. About celebrating the marriage of our friends. A marriage that's lasted almost 20 years... And because of it, I've regressed to the age of 20.

He and I made big plans together and then walked away from them. We didn't honor our promises to one another. We moved on, made new lives for ourselves.

But we never sat down and had a cup of coffee together (who cares that I didn't even drink coffee back then). We never decompressed.

The bridge burned. The embers died, ashes blew away. Nothing here and now resembles anything that was and yet...

Two Decades

2008-11-19T06:21:00.000-08:00

Jewelery and her Beau got married almost 20 years ago. Jewlery and I were best friends, Beau and He were really good friends.

He and I moved in together about one month before the wedding. Three weeks later I was done and promptly left. It was a tumultuous relationship. The ending was too.

I was her maid of honor. He was in the Wedding party too.

It could have been explosive. It was exciting though; Beau's brother and I started a thing the day of the wedding.

Fast forward four marriages, 7 kids, and 20 years. (just those of us from the wedding party and written of here)

I did an exhaustive internet search for Him a few years ago. I was obsessed with the thought of having a cup of coffee with him. It was a monumentally important relationship. Some questions still bounce around in my head. It wasn't always bad all of the time. Or was it? Time and perspective could be interesting concepts to explore with Him.

I never did anything with the contact information that I found. I purposefully lost it. He lives in the same place as he always did. Jewlery tells me what she knows every now and again - if my curiosity gets the best of me - and I happen to ask her.

He and Beau aren't on talking terms. Me and Beau aren't either. Jewelery and I don't talk as much as we would like to. . That's what happens over 30 years of knowing other people. Relationships become complicated.

I searched for Him again last week. He wasn't anywhere on the internet.

Eventually I found His wife.

I wrote to him, via his wife, about the pending 20 year wedding anniversary. I didn't think about it much, I just hit Send.

Hey Won-elle,

I received a call from my Wife today. She asked if I know a Wonelle? With a puzzled inquiry, I said "who?" She then started to read the email. After a few sentences I knew what was up. It's great hearing from you... I was happy to hear that you are doing well with your family.

Thanks for tracking us down. I hope all is well.

Regards,

As soon as I read the salutation, tears filled my eyes. So personal - but not. As I read on, the tears streamed down my face.

It's been 20 years and it seems even more complicated than ever.

Catch Up

2008-10-01T10:31:00.001-07:00

I'm late on posting - having a tough time keeping up with all things Wonelle. But this came to my inbox the other day and I immediately thought "now there's an 'Angle'." and Hey! Now that I think about it, this could also pass for Nature, too! Okay - despite the fact that this is not mine - I'm caught up! WOOO! HOOO!

Please implore everyone you know to VOTE!

Faded Circa 1994

2008-09-08T21:45:00.001-07:00

Thematic Photographic - Installment II

In my final semester of college, I decided to take a fun class. After three years of more-than-full-time studies, political activism, and working two jobs, I needed a creative outlet. I chose photography - the class was black and white and required all students to have a manual camera and 35mm film.

I don't remember the exact assignment given but I do remember the outcome... one very early Sunday morning I drove South in search of my subject. This is a digital picture that simply doesn't do justice to the original - the side of a rail car that was parked in a (thank-god-I-didn't-know-it-at-the-time) dangerous train yard frequented by some of the most dangerous gangs in central California. Although It was completely deserted while I was there, I wasn't entirely comfortable and got the hell out of dodge as soon as the picture was snapped.

Turns out this photo is one of two taken that day. Also turns out that these (Installment III will be posted later this week) were two of 5 photographs chosen by my instructor (among all classes of all levels) to be displayed in the student art exhibition that year. It was the first time in the history of the University that photography was a medium worthy of display at such an event. Thanks Written, Inc. for reminding me of this interest. It's a bunch of fun.

Faded

2008-09-06T07:34:00.001-07:00

This is Twig's take on this week's Thematic Photographic. I came across this beautiful dinosaur after downloading our pictures from the point and shoot. I was looking for something that I had recently taken and found this! The best part of posting this for y'all to see is that I am excited to say that I am sure he staged it on the kitchen table before he snapped it. Interestingly, it's not one in a series (his football series was impressive) and the more he takes pictures, the more he gets what he wants from the process. I simply cropped this a bit before posting. Twig is quite the talented guy (if I do say so myself) - we are so getting him a camera for his 4th birthday (yes, peeps, he's 3).

After a full day at his new school, walking almost a mile home, riding his bike for a while, eating a huge dinner, and watching some of the boob-toob, he's now faded... knocked out snoring while I brag on. I should be faded too; my take on this fantastic theme is coming soon.

Thematic Photographic - Watery

2008-08-29T07:49:00.000-07:00

Since writing anything takes so much time - and I have very little of that - I'm going to try to do Thematic Photographic weekly. Yes, I'll continue to try to post something daily. But this will "break it up" a bit, making the actual writing seem less daunting. Enjoy, and please join in the fun if you haven't already.

These Watery pics were taken in April 2005 in Kauai, Hawaii, to celebrate the 50th birthday of one of our friends.

Here's a quick primer on how Thematic Photographic works:

1. Every Wednesday evening, Carmi over at Written Inc. posts a new Thematic Photographic entry.
2. Each entry has a unique theme. This week's is...watery.
3. You post a similarly themed image over on your blog.
4. You paste a link to your entry in a comment here.
5. If you've already posted something that fits (on a blog, Facebook, MySpace, wherever) simply post the link to the existing entry.
6. You may post one per day, many per day, one each day of the entire week, whatever suits your fancy. This is all about sharing, so feel free to share to your heart's content!
7. Please share this link with friends, too. Carmiwants this thing to being photographic happiness to lots of people - and he needs your help.

Defining Moments

2008-08-26T11:18:00.000-07:00

My Mother In-Law visited for a week a few weeks ago. It's always a difficult time, all of us living together under the same roof. This visit was no exception. But it was good.

A couple of times during that week I had some defining moments. Moments where something in my body and soul shifted just enough to have the strength to support some major changes.

You see, for the past 4 years or so, I've been letting myself go and all the while I've been feeling like I've lost my strength. Don't get me wrong, I've been working my tushie off - the figurative tushie more than the literal one - keeping a young child alive, tending to the needs of my work and earning a paycheck, keeping the daily flow of wake-eat-poop-work-sleep. The worst part is that I've lost a bit of my happy "Sass n' Tude" in the process.

It's not going to be like that any more. I'm taking it all back.

She didn't get away without my saying something; about how it's hard to live together, how being 3 is even harder, how we are the grown ups, and that we must talk in order to make it better - after all we're a team.

I've committed to my health and well being TOO and enlisted the support needed to get more.

I negotiated three days a week. Two weekday mornings to go to the gym and to work early and one weekend morning to do as I see fit - which is probably to go to the gym. Wood will be responsible for Twig on those mornings. Breakfast. Clothes. Teeth brushing. Hair Combing. Lunch. Getting to daycare. 100% Dad.

I've begun Acupuncture and Chinese Herbs and committed to doing so for at least two months to get ahead of how crappy I feel physically. I've been following Doctor's orders around food. Quit caffeine and alcohol.

I joined Weight Watchers. I lost 3 pounds in week 1. Damn that feels good! I'm going to lose 29 pounds more and feel even better.

Twig starts a new pre-school soon. It's less than a mile away from our house and is an excellent school. No more driving 20 miles to get to my work that's only 4 miles from my house any more!

Time, Weight Watchers, exercise, herbs and acupuncture. Slightly different focus. Better Balance.

More me.

Chicken Pox

2008-08-25T14:34:00.000-07:00

Twig has Chicken Pox. While it's a very mild case, he is not allowed to go to school until the blisters crust over. Anywhere between 7 & 10 days from yesterday.

Thank goodness both Wood and I have supportive workplaces, paid time off, and an internet connection (not to mention a laptop courtesy of the job)... It is kinda hard to get much productive work done with a not-really sick kid in the house. So we've opted for full length feature films: The Incredibles, Ice Age, Wallace & Gromit's Curse of the Were-Rabbit, and the all too scary Bee Movie. After all, we're required to make a few concessions.

I may be creating a monster but... I'm able to write some while Twig plays "Cooking with Rosita" on the Sesame Street website. It probably would be irresponsible to take him to the park, even on such a beautiful day as today. Other people don't really want their kids exposed to Chicken Pox (although my sister tells me her friends with kids all around the same age had [enter illness here] Parties - to get them exposed and [it] over with faster) and we have also been told that we might be contagious, even though we both had chicken pox as young children.

The drag of the Pox is that Twig is supposed to start at a new preschool on the 2nd of September - this week would be his last at his "old" school; we were going to do some transition practice this week at the new school and have a "new school" party on his last day at the current school. All of this is completely unplanned and unexpected. Seems as though that's the way life goes with young kids in the house.

There are worse things!

#165

2008-08-15T14:21:00.000-07:00

I propose a toast to my self control.
You see it crawling helpless on the floor.

Someday there will be a cure for pain.

I'll soon be back daily. Really, I'll find a way.

I Wanna Stay Here

2008-07-27T14:57:00.000-07:00

We've had a couple of great events this weekend. Life is good.

We hung out around the house most of Saturday doing things like laundry and straightening up (actually, Wood did that while I wrote). While straightening Twigs toy baskets, I had a chance to and felt like I was slowing down a bit. It felt so good that I was able to find the space to initiate some one-on-one playtime with my boy.

We started inside the house with building blocks and then re-nesting them and ended up outside on a neighbors trampoline jumping, screaming and giggling to our heart's content. It felt really good to have no other worries for a spell. It's where I'd like to be more often!

Later, Twig had his first sleep-over and it was super successful! Wood and I had a very nice date because of the success! Thank you Did & family! THANK YOU!

As of 5 am this morning Wood departed the Bay Area... After I picked up Twig from his sleepover, we did some snack shopping. Now that we've made it home, we're still feeling the hermit-like feelings from Saturday. So much so that an offer of sushi for dinner was declined.

It's nice to hang out at home sometimes.

Growing Pains

2008-07-25T12:02:00.001-07:00

A heaviness looms over me in such a way that makes me feel like bursting into tears at any time and for no apparent reason. This fragility is not my usual state of being; as my sweet kindred-spirit and much too-far-away friend B says, I'm usually one "tough cookie".

Wood is leaving for a business trip very early Sunday morning. Twig and I were originally going to take the journey south too but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a bad idea; to be in a city for almost a week with only one set of friends (and a relatively pensive friendship at this point), with no car, and seeing Papi only for dinners. It just didn't sound like all that much fun. In the end I thought it would be easier to be at home in our own space - even if we're just the two of us... So I opted Twig and me out.

As Wood's departure looms nearer my level of for-no-reason-tear-y-ness seems to be increasing. As my daily routines engulf me, I am cognizant enough to realize that the tears are not of sadness that he's leaving. Really. I don't mind the time away from my husband as much as he minds the time away from me. Rather, it's the conflict that chatters in my body and soul lately.

I wanna go away by MYSELF!

(read that again and a the same time, picture if you will, an almost 40 year old woman with grey hair and reading glasses laying on the floor kicking, screaming, and crying just like a toddler in the throes of a hysterical temper tantrum over not getting her way)

It's not about his business trip, that he's going away for a few days, or that I'll be exclusively responsible for Twig and me for several days. Yeah, that'll be tough but not too much outside the norm. Wood is helpful but as of late (it feels like) his work needs are paramount to that of mine or Twig's - his family comes second.

The internal struggle is between me and my obligations. I'm oh-so-exhausted lately. I want to catch up on sleep, to have extra time - and have it filled with "extra curricular" activities in the same way he does! I want to know what my schedule is going to be, to do three things I want to do - even if it is work. I don't want to drop everything I've got planned (which is not too exciting - grocery shopping or cleaning the toilet) so that he can do what he needs to do for work.

The problem is that I've worked it out in my head that my job is to support my family - in whatever way they need. While I know that my needs are important too, I tell myself to set those aside. It's not going to be this way forever. To make it through, I internalize it all, get sulky, and self-medicate with coffee from Peet's and Twix candy bars from the lunch-room vending machine. I hold it all inside and then when I'm overwhelmed, I roar at them here and there. It's purpose being to allow room for a little more instead of exploding in one fatal swoop.

At the end of the day, I do see the effect. In my energy level, my husband's ability, and my son's family drawings. All I want to do is sleep, he expresses his feelings of inadequacy. Twigs drawings have recently taken on a new theme: his parents are sad. The roaring may be somewhat effective in the short run but in the long run it scars.

I'll continue to pretend that I'm not affected. Actually, I'll continue to work toward NOT being affected.

I will continue to try with all my might to address my gained weight, make and keep those weekly family appointments with the new Nice Lady, and to write here. To try and find more and better ways to get what I need too: to reduce the pressure and balance what we all want and need.

B, you and other people are right. My personal history overcooked me a tad and has made me a little brittle around the edges. It's simply another way of saying that I am strong and smart and fearless. Thanks for the reminder!

On the inside I'm sweet and gooey. Those are the tastiest parts. They're the ones that give you and me the strength to know and persevere. As tough as all of this is, I know we can do this. Even through the tears.

I'm a Little Bit Rock 'n Roll...

2008-07-23T16:19:00.001-07:00

The photograph in a magazine advertisement surfaced the memory of one of his many eccentricities. The brown and white patterns, thick stitching and high-gloss-polished leather conjured long-forgotten images of him.

No matter what he was doing - wielding a hammer, cooking dinner, or deep sea fishing - Crooked-Nose-Tom wore jeans, a collared shirt, and the most amazing cowboy boots.

Our relationship - it's pensive, delayed start, conflicted middle, cavernous ending, and everything in between - really was beautiful.

Just like those boots.

I miss you, Dad.

The New Yorker

2008-07-19T08:46:00.001-07:00

Upon seeing this cover, we've decided that we're going to subscribe to the New Yorker. It may be wrong; but it has sparked conversation. As the title of this here blog implies, I think that conversation is really important.

Weekend Respite

2008-07-15T07:10:00.000-07:00

We spent Saturday and Sunday with one of Twig's friends from school and his parents at the beach in Bolinas. We had a great time! We played at the beach, took a hike and laughed a whole bunch! No Monday post because we're back to our usual routines. No worry, keep these in mind to ward away any frustrations...

More Silly Stuff

2008-07-12T08:12:00.001-07:00

You Are Noon

You are upbeat, ambitious, and never at loss for energy.

You have a lot that drives you in life. The desire to be the best, and a secret hope of fame and power.

And while you definitely have a Type A personality, you are still fun to be around.

You have a ton of charisma and a genuine interest in others. You are adored by many.

What Time Of Day Are You?

A Timeless Prayer

2008-07-12T06:50:00.000-07:00

I'm not really religious, but the older I get, I find myself feeling that prayers and such activities helps to calm the mind and provide direction. And, since I haven't found any time to post in the past few days - and the next few won't allow any either - we're off camping for the next couple of days. But, I thought this would be nice to share.

A 17TH-CENTURY NUN'S PRAYER

Lord thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old.

Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.

Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.

Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy.

With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it all, but thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and the love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.

I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a saint - some of them are so hard to live with - but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.

Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And, give me, O Lord, the grace to tell people about it.

For all our sakes,
AMEN

Parenting Classes, Huh?

2008-07-09T17:24:00.001-07:00

Have I ever told you the story of the night that my step-father attacked my boyfriend with a machete over a drug deal gone bad?

As I explained and cried about my parenting woes the other day, Mammy said she always tried to learn more ways to be an effective parent. Even she found it pretty ironic as she remembered that on the Night of the Machete she wasn't around to partake in the festivities (and no, she didn't approve of the drugs/dealing). She was at a parenting class.

Good times, I tell ya. Good times.

There's a longer post to be had outta this one, I think.

Still Seething

2008-07-08T05:21:00.000-07:00

7:30pm

"Time to choose pajamas and books to read."

"NO, I don't want to."

"C'mon, let's go."

"No!" As he runs from his room to mine, he climbs on the bed from the point farthest away from trying to get to the other side of the bed as I get closer. I grab him by his ankle, pull him off of the bed, "No, NO, NO!" he says as I carry him to his room. I feel my blood pressure rising. Wood, who's been entertaining outside for most of the evening has by this time settled in to watch Baseball.

"Short sleeves or long sleeves tonight?"

"I don't wanna wear jammies. I'm playing with this toy."

"It's time to choose jammies or you're going to lose one book."

The play continues and I know we're in for a long one. Not 5 minutes into this and I'm ready to lay down and fall out myself; it was one of those days at work today.

"Okay, one book lost."

"NO, NO, NO, NO!"

"That's the consequence. Do you know what a consequence is? It's what happens when you break a rule."

"if you break the law, the police will take you to jail."

"yes, the consequence of breaking the law is that you will go to jail. The consequence for not listening to Mom and Dad when it's time to go to bed is to lose a book. C'mon, let's get these clothes on."

"I want TWO BOOKS."

And so the evening goes. Every time I try to lay down the law, he takes it up a notch. I can bluff him by not reacting, or use logic to appeal to him and the fact that his winnings could be so much greater if he'd just go to sleep! . But it doesn't work out that way. He's seen my hand and in the infinite wisdom of his four year old body and soul says "I'll see your threat and raise you by two, bitch."

8:30pm

He gets me to lay down with him, plays, gives me raspberries on my arms and giggles, asks why, gets out of bed, has to pee, needs to give his Daddy one more hug and kiss, runs to my room and jumps on the bed. I answer questions, offer to rub his back, remind him that we don't hit - and I can call the police if he keeps it up, threaten to take away his things (like his favorite shoes), put him back in bed every time he gets out, leave the room myself, and stop responding verbally (which helps a mere tad). When he's really angry and frustrated at me he whine/cries "you're not my best mom", "I wish I lived here alone", and "I wish I were big like a giant."

We're upping the ante with every interaction and Wood is still sitting on the couch watching baseball.

When I've reached my limit, the pronouncement "I'm DONE" prompts Wood to swoop in to make the save. But it doesn't work tonight. None of us knows how to maintain boundaries and also minimize the intensity that's been built up by this point.

If anything it seems to be intensifying even more. So, 15 minutes later, I take over again.

"IT'S TIME TO GO TO BED TWIG." He goes to his room. I go to mine.

He comes out of his room. "GO TO BED TWIG."

"But, I just want to sleep with you." Yes, that could be the easier option at the moment. But I'm infuriated and exhausted and it's almost 9:30PM on MONDAY NIGHT.

"NO! You're not invited in my bed." So instead of coming to my room again, he stands at the top of the stairs watching his dad watch television. Whining something that's incomprehensible because he's exhausted from the fighting to subvert us at all costs. In my rage, I believe that the piece de resistance is a spanking. Yeah! Let's take it there so it'll end sooner rather than later. So, I implement my plan - over a thick disposable diaper I give him a swat and put him in his bed, screaming and crying.

Soon thereafter, Wood does save the day. Comforts him once his hypocrite of a mother resorts to violence to end the argument. Wood gets him to settle down and finally fall asleep. Granted it's after I've made my kid feel like crap and as if I don't care, and after Wood's made something like 35 trips up and down the stairs. But hey, he's asleep.

It's after 10pm by now. I'm laying in bed, simultaneously exhausted and ready to explode. Really, I want never do this again - to spare us all this pain and suffering.

I remember as a kid feeling the same way Twig seems to feel during these times. I said and did the same things he's doing; did and said anything possible to keep the fight going. I don't remember what I wanted. But I do remember having an expectation that my parents show me the better way by example.

In my exhaustion, I'm trying to figure out how this started or where it could have been derailed. The epiphany - other than the feeling that I'm the incapable root cause - never comes.

It took TWO AND A HALF HOURS (!) to get my kid to sleep last night. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time that this has happened in the past week.

At 5am this morning, Wood's alarm woke me. Still seething. Better go write.

Twig was up at 5:40am, I'm afraid. He's feeling about the same as me.

FUCK.

Everything Changes

2008-07-07T19:28:00.001-07:00

The day got away from me yesterday and I didn't get to write...

I've had a headache for the past few evenings - doing an herbal total body cleanse - no caffeine and no alcohol in the foreseeable future. Trying that route before going back to the Chinese herbalist/acupuncturist for lower back pain (Traditional Chinese Medicine says lower back pain is a Kidney problem that doesn't go away quickly) - he's really expensive and we're spending some cash on family needs right now.

It's 30 minutes before bedtime and Twig's outside riding his bike under the watchful eye of Wood and Big C (our fantastic neighbor with two kids that are also friends with Twig).

I've been thinking lately that I really want to write a post about how I met my First Love. And about how I met my Dad in a Walgreens Coffee Shop. I haven't seen First Love in 15 or so years. He's been on my mind off and on over the past 4 or 5. My Dad is dead now. We'd been estranged for at least 8 years before he died, almost two years ago now.

First Love and Dad were very important to me for so many different and complex reasons. I have very mixed feelings about my still-very-strong feelings for each of them. Perhaps because they both were and are unavailable I think of them so frequently. It's also an interesting metaphor - especially compared to the way I met each of them. Now though, I wonder:

How are you?
Are you happier now?
What did you learn?
Do you know that I still love you? Yeah, it's true.

Got to stop now. Tears are forming. Not enough time to process this now. All in good time - I'll try not to take 20 more years.

The Compound

2008-07-05T23:00:00.000-07:00

About a year ago, my youngest sister decided that she wanted to buy a house. She was renting an amazing house with a lot of land and an in-law unit - for a song and a dance. But so focused was she on obtaining her very own white picket fence...

She talked to me exactly one time in the beginning of her search; I, like any good eldest sister would, peppered her with questions concerning cash-flow, budget, qualifying for a loan, and realistic home prices in the lovely bay area juxtaposed against being a single mom of a tween earning a teachers salary and the possibility of that reality getting her much more than a cardboard box.

At the time she decided that she must be a property owner, she convinced our almost-60year-old-permanently-disabled-single mother, whom she was living with, to invest in and co-own the loan. It did not take Littlest Sis (AKA: The Favorite - Fav) much to talk my mom into the deal. Mammy has a long history with infomercials and get-rich-quick schemes. Talk to her about a great investment opportunity or the possibility of incredible earning potential and she's pretty much going to sign on the dotted line.

Eventually Fav found an overpriced, 3 story, under-maintained, 3 bedroom 3 bathroom house owned by a teacher and decided to use the seller's real estate agent to help her purchase. YIPEEE! The teacher wanted to sell to the teacher. Fav decided to use a 'friend', who convinced her that she could actually afford almost three-quarters of a million dollars on her teacher's salary, to get the (interest only) loan.

Not too deep into escrow, it became apparent that there was more loan than Fav and Mammy could afford between the two of them. So, Fav decides that it would be a good idea to invite our middle sister (Lil Sis), her husband and their two kids to join in - for investment purposes, of course.

They all decided that this would be a good business venture, the best way to get into the real estate market. Pool their limited resources for the greater good. Fantastic idea in principle.

Mammy stated her concern to me early on in the escrow process. "I just don't know what to do, Fav and Lil Sis won't do what needs to be done to put these things in writing" she said. The way to resolve the issue was quite simple in my estimation... "Well, you know Mammy, you do hold the purse strings. Tell them you won't put your money on the table until the other stuff is in place."

I voiced my concerns to each of them individually and told them of my concerns before it all happened. Fav didn't listen to my line of questioning and Mammy didn't take my advice. They all moved in together and didn't take the steps necessary to enter into discussions or written business agreements until they were all settled in. Issues of money, down payment, rent, space considerations, bills, and the like - not to mention expectations around how to treat one another, were never openly discussed, nor put on paper in any detail sufficient to ward against problems later on down the road.

Needless to say, things got out of hand very quickly. Lil Sis and Fav don't get along very well as it is and living together has served only to drive a wedge further between them. A few months after Fav gets everyone to buy into this situation she decided that it wasn't working for her and she wanted out.

No matter how hard I tried, Robert Fulghum - All I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten - was the best advice I could come up with...

No discussion. She's decided she's done. She's unwilling to try to find a mutually agreeable solution. She put the house up for sale and isn't following through with any of her commitments to the rest of her family. The rest of the family has followed suit by not following their agreements. Mammy will be forced to take the biggest financial hit - and she'll be homeless soon.

For me there are no sides - they're all wrong - I can't get involved because the fallout is too great. I've listened, advised, and done my best to encourage each of them to figure something out that is works for everyone. Unfortunately, it's not going to happen.

Promises, Promises

2008-07-04T08:51:00.000-07:00

I can't decide whether or not to keep my wedding shoes. They've been taking up space in the depths of my closet for more than 5 years now and I'll very, very likely never wear them ever again.

We decided, quite pragmatically over coffee and cigars one Sunday morning, to get hitched. Truth be told, I had no problem living in sin. And, even though I liked our current arrangement just fine, I had very few qualms about getting married. Actually, I fully expected things to remain about the same - or to get better - once we did the deed.

Jokingly, I would ask "If we get married, can I still be your girlfriend?"

Wood would reply with glee, "Absolutely!"

It's a little disconcerting; I just realized that those shoes aren't taking up all that much space, they're really a simple reminder of how after the wedding, everything changed!

Things aren't as pragmatic as they once were but no matter. Those shoes are going to get the best piece of closet real estate there is to be had: front and center so that every time either of us open the door, SMACK: there they are!

Those were some amazingly good times and they should be celebrated at every turn.

Dwelling Place of the Great Spirit

2008-07-03T06:44:00.000-07:00

This California Redwood, in all it's glory, stands at about 150 feet tall and at it's base is about 8 feet across. We are majority owner of it - it's trunk spans three property lines - most of it encompasses our backyard.

Not long after we moved into this house (more than 4 years ago now), we called a friend who's an Arborist and had him over to remove some dead trees and inspect and trim the Redwood. The trees, much like our house, had been seriously uncared for and needed some attention.

This Arborist friend of ours is kinda quirky but he helped us to cement our love for this tree as one of the best features of the house. While he and his partner worked removing old dead trees in the yard, he couldn't stop professing his love for the Redwood tree - and how honored he was to be able to climb in it and care for it. As you can see, it is a very impressive specimen.

We learned that one of the neighbors attempted to get the tree cut down a few years before we moved in. The plan was squelched - rumor has it that this tree has protected status as a historical landmark or something.

Unfortunately, Wood noticed a while back that the tree was really brown at the top. We immediately called the arborist friend and asked for a visit.

He doesn't think that anything is wrong with the tree. It doesn't appear to have any disease or fungus. He doesn't think that the French Drain project we completed last year could have injured it. Did you know that the root-span of a tree is twice as far out as it is tall? That means that this tree's root structure could be as far away as a block and a half or more from our house!

I'm worried though, the tree seems to be browning more quite quickly. Our Arborist said that trees do have a limited lifespan. Redwoods apparently die, even in the forest, and urban dwelling can certainly cause some additional challenges for thriving in old age. While all that makes perfect sense, it's sad.

I love this tree.

Artist?

2008-07-02T06:36:00.000-07:00

Monday morning found me needing to write a bit about a dream. While doing so, Twig found the camera. I'm generally hypersensitive about him "playing" with the camera since it's close to death on account of him. But since it is so close to death, and because I couldn't be bothered before work to have yet another argument, I let him do his thing.

I was quite surprised this morning as I downloaded the two pictures I'd taken only to find 28 photos that he'd taken in the course of about 10 minutes! No, I wasn't paying attention to him (as the last photo proves).
I'm busy having a love affair with Blogger (shh, don't tell Wood)!

Best Advice Ever

2008-07-01T08:54:00.000-07:00

In the heat of being disciplined, kids will do and say the craziest things...

They'll hit, kick, and spit at you, run away from you and even mock you by laughing in your face. If the sticks and stones don't work, they'll certainly try to use words to hurt you: "You're not being nice to me" (that's easy enough) or "I'm never going to stay here any more" (a 3 year old runaway?), "I'm never going to be your friend" (no problem) or "You can't be my Mom anymore!" (ouch!).

I'm assuming that puberty or thereabouts will be even more gut-wrenching than these here late 3's and early 4's. While I know that I owe it to my kid to teach him to be a decent, respectable person, this shit is way more than hard work. My job is a freakin' cake-walk compared to this stuff.

Thank GOD for friends, I tell ya! While I was barely hanging on to the curb by my fingernails last night, this fantasmic woman I know called just in the nick of time! She pushed me back on to the sidewalk by listening, sharing her experiences, and reminding me of one really important way to get through these blanked-up times. "Remember", she said:

"Spine of steel, heart of stone."

Thank you!

Metaphorically Speaking

2008-06-30T06:55:00.000-07:00

Class was in full swing. Students were scattered around practicing their scenes to small audiences of peers. Each member of the group in turn made comments on how the performance could be more convincing.

Carrying a handbag and rolling a suitcase was not easy. The cobblestone seemed to make the handbag heavier and the suitcase slower. They weighted me down, even pained me at times, but I trudged along in spite of them.

I was enrolled in the class. However, today I was more of an onlooker than an active participant. I simultaneously watched and moved along the large, dark room toward the stairs. I watched them practicing. I watched myself looking at them, all the while I lurked in the background, simply doing what needed to be done. The sting of unfulfilled desire and the heaviness of inability slowed the pace of my footsteps. I wanted to leave that place but the scene seemed to last for hours.

I really was doing my best to move on - the need to put my baggage...in it's place...away...down...was strong - but was thwarted. The stairwell had been blocked. I looked down for any possible way to move toward my destination - even though it was not really a place. The floor was covered, tools and materials were everywhere, a hand written sign hung with tape smack in the middle of the walkway. "Do NOT enter unless you really, really need to" it said.

I felt that I needed to but more strongly that I couldn't. My journey is on hold, I thought. Someone else is busy doing his work and projects. These are too important to simply move beyond. Mine must lie in wait.

NO! I'm carrying the bags! I really, really do need to enter. I'll find a way around the heaviness of - to work with - the projects, tools, materials and signs.

But maybe you could help? I need a little guidance to safely find my way!

Where do you want your Tattoo?

2008-06-30T06:48:00.001-07:00

Let's Go Oakland!

Insecurity

2008-06-28T18:39:00.000-07:00

I have very little time to write tonight. As Twig takes a "bathtub" he's incessantly insisting that I watch his whale dive in and out of the water. Wood, who is out fetching dinner, has informed me via a very unsightly family argument this afternoon that he resents my screen time and any time away from the house that renders him completely responsible for his offspring. Turns out that he wants me available to him on his timeline and schedule - despite the fact that our parental obligations and schedules don't always coincide with his wants and needs.

Try as I may, the pace of our lives is not conducive to obtaining all of the basic necessities (sleep, sex, and conversation) of life all of the time. I am simply not able to manage to meet the needs of every person in my life at all times at the moment. This is difficult to manage - being a perfectionist and all.

Turns out, Wood is as insecure as I am - but for different reasons. Twig is having behavioral issues galore. We're planning a visit to a Marriage and Family Therapist for help.

I've got to go eat dinner now.

The View From Over Here

2008-06-27T21:15:00.000-07:00

Are you a glass half-empty or a glass half-full type of person?

I hate to say it but I'm the half-empty kind. It's not on purpose really, it just sort of happens. My outlook on life and understanding of the world doesn't focus on the beauty and wonder that exists; at my core my skin and bones tell me it's not safe to let my guard down. Somewhere along the way my optimism and naivety was snatched. I can't remember the exact moment that it happened but I learned early on that when you begin to feel comfortable that's usually when bad things happen.

For the most part, this nay-sayer approach (or critical thinking skill) has served me well. It has helped me gain strength and a perseverance to succeed in the face of difficult odds, personal demons, and human adversaries (including the ones that didn't even know they were being adversarial). However, there are times that this quality doesn't feel like such a great strength of character.

Take visiting with friends. As of late, half-empty has been lonely among even the largest group of people during the happiest of occasions. It has made me feel as if everyone is judging me when they're simply conceptualizing out loud. I'm not so good at making negative funny so such an outlook on and relationship with the world can often be misconstrued and impossible to be around.

Half-empty is challenging my self-confidence. I'm thinking (critically, of course) that it's time to regroup and rethink my relationship to the world. I want to be a glass half-full type of person!

Technology Aids Life. Or...

2008-06-26T14:15:00.001-07:00

Pherber emailed me today about her band and the strides they continue to make on the music scene. Well done! Their recent album, Surfing the Afterlife is fantastic. The content is quite personal and it's interesting to 'know' (if not just a little bit) something about the origins of some of the lyrics on the album. Our late dear friend Satya would be so so flattered and so pleased. He'd be so proud of you and your success. As we are(me, Wood and Twig). Kudos to you!

I signed up for my very own myspace account today, just so that I can be a "friend" of Pherber and the band. Well also to stay connected with people in an anonymous sort of way and even maybe, to get some more traffic on Conversations With a Nice Lady. We'll see how it goes, I can't seem to figure out how the damn site works yet. Not yet their friend and no clear understanding of how to link this here blog onto myspace. Geez, that makes me feel old.

Until tomorrow...

30 Days

2008-06-25T22:10:00.000-07:00

If you haven't already, check out FX's series 30 days which is hosted by the guy that did the movie Supersize Me. The program tackles some incredibly difficult subjects by placing someone in a situation that they don't understand or agree with to shed some light... So far: working in a coal mine, animal rights and same sex parenting. I'm hooked and wish everyone could walk a month on the other side. Could make the world a much better place.

Not a Pregnancy Pact

2008-06-25T13:42:00.001-07:00

The 'manage posts' tab of Conversations With a Nice Lady - the place that only I get to see - contains my present state of mind in the form of several really bad draft blog posts. Not enough psychic space available to put together something that can actually be published lately. What lurks here just beneath the surface feels very haphazard and unorganized. Need as I may to write it all down and process, I'm feeling a bit fragile and incapable of doing so publicly.

During the busy busy of our usual morning routine today I was thinking about my inability to write lately...Why is it that some very complex thoughts and feelings just will not come together in a concise and understandable way? I decided that the issue is a combination of fear and practice. I need a pact between me and myself to take on the world fearlessly. That and, utimately, I need to write more often.

So, despite the busy busy, I decided that I must get at least one sentence published on the blog every day. A thought, story idea, random memory, rant, hope, or positive affirmation - as simple, complex, or poorly written as it may be. Yes, whatever comes flowing out of me...

As the day wore on, and I continued to ponder the idea of writing and publishing daily, I remembered someone along my educational brick road who told me that the first draft is simply for the sake of writing. At the same time it's the most important draft because if done correctly it's raw Truth and Emotion. YES! My writer's block is fear! I am, after all a perfectionist. I want my work to come out perfectly the first time, to convey the truth eloquently, and to appear on the page effortlessly. The problem is that with that approach I either don't write or don't publish. That outcome is the antithesis of what I want.

So, let's move on, shall we? Every day I will take a minute or two (set a timer if need be) to practice getting something (anything) published. I can find a few moments a day.

Until tomorrow then...

“Scratch any cynic and you’ll find a disappointed idealist.”

2008-06-24T20:54:00.000-07:00

George Carlin, 5/12/37 - 7/21/08; a man after my own heart...

Backyard Delights

2008-06-21T15:11:00.000-07:00

One of the main reasons that I wanted to buy/own a house was so that I could "play in the dirt". More than 4 years later, with some new (found) freedoms, I made a proclamation: I want a vegetable garden! and then enlisted the help I needed to begin to make the yard my own.

I decided to start small-ish in the kinda-contained two feet deep spaces along the side of the house. I picked up some seeds from the store and started them indoors. In the meantime, I researched, designed, and built some raised beds, then filled them with dirt (read: paid the gardener to fill them with dirt).

Wood was gracious enough to take Twig for an entire day a month or so back and I was able to play outside for the entire day. . These are a few of the fruits of my labor.

Sunflowers that Twig started from seed at Pre-School, Tomatoes, Tomatillos, squash and cucumbers (there's some sweet peas behind the Tomatoes and Alyssum along the borders of the cement & boxes). You can't see the corn (also from Twig's school), broccoli, thyme and marjoram, and the other two planter boxes (there's 4 total) that contain carrots, beets, chives, & basil. The Roses that came with the place are looking very nice with extra care and water, and I'm hoping that the Lavender likes its new home between planter boxes too.

I've got the bug... the goal is to re-landscape another portion of the yard before the end of September - so we can host Twig's birthday party at home this year.

Identity

2008-05-20T15:44:00.001-07:00

Twig has been touching himself constantly lately. After about a week with no clear end in sight I asked him about it. "What's going on with you"? His response was "Well, it's scratchy." So, the following Saturday morning - c'mon, I had nothing better to do - we made our way to the pediatrician's office for a drop-in appointment.

There was nothing obvious that the doctor could see except a patch of skin that was a bit rough. He wasn't certain but thought that it could possibly be Jock Itch. We were given a prescription and told not to use the medication for more than two weeks because it's really strong stuff and can cause thinning of the skin.

We used the medication sparingly for a few days with no obvious reduction in the frequency or aggressiveness of the scratching. I am concerned for my son's future genital health - after all I required that we test his name to be sure it would be well said in the heat of passion (a mother's or a lover's) - it's an important test - think about it. Anyway, earlier this week, not unlike every other week that he goes to school, Twig's drawings from the day were lovingly placed beside his lunch box and brought home with him.

Papi was quite proud when he showed me Twig's very first drawing of our family. I grinned, said how great it was and we went about our regular evening chores. A little later, as we all sat at the dinner table together and I actually had time to look at the photo, I felt very proud. I was struck by his drawing ability and how happy we all are. As I studied the drawing more closely I noticed a couple of extra lines and an extra shape.

Curious, I pointed and asked him to tell me what they were. During the study and line of questioning, Papi and I said to one another with our eyes "It's our kid's first family drawing! It's so cool - and really good! Look at our family - we're close together, smiling, there are ears and hair. This kid never ceases to amaze me!"

Imagine our pride as Twig explained that the extra lines were "My Penis", "Papi's Penis", and "What do girls have, again?"

Yeah, we stopped applying the medication immediately.

I also found some interesting reading on the subject.

MyPersonality.info Badge

2008-03-26T10:47:00.001-07:00

Mistress Maggie

2008-03-10T15:15:00.000-07:00

My sweet Mama Cat is old.It's clear to me that she is not this cat anymore. But then again, I'm not the cat I once was, either.

Since Mr. K. left us, the Mistress has been relegated to living outside. Ultimately, she peed one too many times outside her litter box and I finally realized that she lived long enough as an indoor cat. Sadly, I became one of those people whose pet(s) is relegated to second class citizen upon the birth - okay, I'll admit it - conception - of a human child.

There are days that I revel in the fact that we will someday be a pet free family. I'm over the stray cats in the neighborhood spraying on my front door because the Mistress sleeps on the porch and they want her food. The smell of fresh cat piss does nothing for me. Actually, it never has. But, there are days that I really miss our past relationship.

I miss the days in our one bedroom apartment that I played throw the ball against the wall and she would run from the other room to catch it in mid-air. Or the times that she caught a fly between her paws above her head. Or how she would come running when I'd say "Maggie, Spiiiiiiiiderrrrr" and then pounce and gobble up whatever was crawling on the wall. Even, when Wood and I were first dating and I explained to him that if he didn't make it clear whose bed it was, by kicking her off of it, that she would forever sleep on his feet.

Nevertheless, I am torn.

About three days after Twig was born, all I wanted to do was cuddle up with my kitties - as if nothing had changed. But, everything has changed.

I miss cuddling up with my kitty under the covers in the chill of a cold spring night. And yet, her shriveled, flea covered, matted fur, emaciated body is difficult to touch, especially when the faint scent of kitty pee overtakes me.

Hey Old Lady, you're old. I know you're not going to be with me forever. We have always had a tumultuous relationship. You're a super big fat pain in my ass - on so many levels - but I love you. Hopefully the depths of which you know.

Squeaky Wheels

2008-03-07T12:19:00.001-08:00

The scary freeway sign near our house was fixed at the end of January. Nothing happens quickly in the government world so my guess is that people complained - a lot.
My people haven't been complaining a lot but they keep me so busy that writing and posting is something I do pretty much only in my mind lately.

Since the end of January a lot has happened. But the activities are simply memories that are quickly fading away. I've been meaning to write about the updated freeway sign, Twig's recent artistic inclinations, the challenges of finding a quality full-time pre-school closer to home, politics, the waxing and waning of marital bliss, exercise and weight, and now of yesterday's Mother-Son double date to see Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre at 8pm on a school night. But I can barely live it, let alone write about it.

I'm not a late night person, in the early mornings I take care of my kid, and during the daytime, I'm, you know, earning my keep. The daily grind and sleep consume me - if I don't give proper attention to those activities, I'm completely useless. So here's what I wanna know: How do you, you and you do it?

In The Still Of The Night

2008-02-10T17:27:00.000-08:00

We hold hands, foreheads together. I feel giddy. Like a teenager in love for the very first time.

When I look at my love I giggle because I'm half excited and half embarrassed. You see, the man looking back at me is NOT Wood, it's Alton Brown!

As he gazes my direction, he's just as giddy as me...

San Fran-huh?

2007-12-31T09:15:00.001-08:00

There's a new freeway sign near our house. I fear that it is a clear message about how we put Tax dollars to work here in California... What's gonna happen to roadsigns after the $14 Billion budget deficit we're facing is addressed by Governator Schwarzenegger tomorrow?

Scary!

Relationships of Steel

2007-12-27T18:03:00.000-08:00

Everyone in the United States knows that one of the most important milestones of the teenage years is obtaining the legal driving age. It is indicative of real freedom and what we can be - given the space and equipment necessary...

As a teenager, I worked. It was a way out of the house and in my feeble mind, the way to a new life. I held babysitting jobs for teachers and others around town, worked at a Christmas Tree Farm (in inclement weather), and as a gift wrapper at a Toy Store. I happily earned my own cash to buy all the necessities required of a burgeoning adult. Cigarettes, Coca-Cola, and Candy.

When I was 16, I had been working for several years but had very little cash to show for it. When it was time to start driving, my parents couldn't really afford to buy me a car (6 kids between two parents - but we weren't the Brady Bunch by any stretch of the imagination). As it turned out though, a friend of a friend of a friend was selling and they bought me my first car.

Car #1 - 1971 Ford Pinto - Orange
*My Mom wouldn't let me get a VW Beetle as my first car because it was light and too dangerous. Huh? The Ford Pinto was known for exploding on impact when rear-ended at speeds as low as 5mph. That's safe! It ran on only two cylinders when I was finished with it.

Car #2 - 1978 Toyota Corona - Gold (yes, like the beer)
*What a piece of shit - it cost tons of money in repairs. Money I didn't have. I unloaded it as soon as I could and in doing so, took a major loss.

Car #3 - 1976 Super Beetle - Orange
*Up yours Mom! Unfortunately, though, another piece of shit. Same story as Car #2, except I traded it in for...

Car #4 - 1989 VW Fox 4 door GL - Silver
*I would have purchased a Honda, had I gone to the Honda dealership first. This car was something like $9000 brand new. I'm fond of saying that I grew up in that car. I drove it to college and back, and all over this state. I drove it for 12 years - and drove it hard - until the repairs were more annually than the car was worth.

I didn't own a car for about a year after the Fox died. That was a liberating time, of sorts. Not long after Wood and I met, I bought:

Car #5 - 1991 Honda Civic Hatchback - White
*For $2800 and 140k miles. This car was named Dhammadina by Wood's late friend Satya when she got us to Tassajara Zen Mountain Center in the Santa Cruz mountains. There's a treacherous 14 mile dirt road on the way there that she managed gracefully. We love Dhammadina because she has been nothing but faithful and wonderful to our family for about 8 years. Now, with 230k miles and a failure to pass smog, the repairs have outpaced her worth.

Car #6 - 1996 Subaru Legacy Wagon - Green
*With a great price tag of $4000 (?or so?), this car was bought with only about 90k miles from a friend of a friend who is a Cop and wanted to sell to someone other than a complete stranger. It was really purchased for Twig, just before his birth. We aren't totally enamored with the Green Machine but, it gets us from point A to point B. At least for now. With 140k miles, we may be in a position to replace it in the next few years.

With Dhammadina not passing smog, and the cost of the repairs being estimated at $1500, we've decided it's time to add a new member to our family. Yep, we decided (and were forced) to take the new car plunge.

We spent a lot of time weighing our options. Hybrid? Sub Compact? Mid Size? New? New Used?

After a few weeks of only one car between us, consumer reports research, talking to one another, and getting the opinions of the people around us on the subject, I decided that Wood should get what he wants. After all, he gives me everything I want. Besides the fact that we are the type of people that keep cars until their death, and it makes sense to buy newer... the cost of the Honda Hybrid was only $40 lower per month (and the Toyota Prius was even more than that)....

Plunge we did!

Car #7 - 2006 Audi A4 Quattro 2.8 Turbo - Silver!

Twig thinks we should name her Claire.

First Love

2007-11-16T21:26:00.000-08:00

1989

Once all of my things had been moved back into my parent’s house, she insisted on taking me to a nice restaurant for dinner. I reluctantly agreed. The last several days – no, the last five years – had finally caught up with me. I was beyond hurt, beyond sad. I was close to dead.

She listened intently and compassionately as I spoke of the manipulations and psychological pain. Of how he had lied and cheated. Of how I believed that he really loved me. Of how the final straw was that after he had agreed to an egalitarian cohabitation he said, “Fuck you, Bitch! If you want the dishes done, do them yourself.”

Half way through the meal her demeanor changed. She was suddenly angry. It didn’t add up. I didn’t understand or ask. I continued eating and talking. Oblivious.

The waiter approached the table and asked if we wanted dessert. Very abruptly she said, “No. Check please.” Then to me, “I’m so sorry. I have something to tell you and it’s really bad.” I retorted, half joking, “Really. What could be worse than the fact that I just moved out of my apartment and left my boyfriend of 5 years – the man that I was convinced I was to marry…?”

“He’s here. With a date.”

Infuriated, I sent a glass of wine to their table. The waiter had agreed to point in our direction and tell the woman that it was from me – and that I had, until that very afternoon, shared an address and life with her date.

As the waiter pointed at me, I ephemerally remembered the dishes and knew my choices: to stay with him, marry, be beaten, kill, and go to jail for life or to get the life that I have now.

Halloween 2007

2007-11-02T19:13:00.001-07:00

When I asked what he wanted to be for Halloween, Twig replied: "A Scary Monster". "Look at the costume we've got in your closet, a Dinosaur costume. Dinosaurs are scary monsters!" As I showed him the hand-me-down bright green Dinosaur costume however, the look on his face confirmed my suspicion. It would not fly. "No, Mommy, I want to be a scary Monster." "Um, Twig, what does a scary monster look like?" I asked. "It's white and black." "Oh, you mean a skeleton." "Yes, Mommy, a Scary Monster."

The next day we went to Target and picked up a $10 Scary Monster costume. While the price was right, it stings a bit that we've already outgrown cute.

Tuesday there was a Halloween party at school. It was lots of fun with a magic show and a pot luck dinner. No candy, just cupcakes after the meal. Quite pedestrian and all the better for me. Wood and I have never even considered how to "manage" Halloween. I guess we've figured we're not quite there yet.

However, on Wednesday, we were invited to trick-or-treat with some friends in their neighborhood. We obliged. Over a pizza dinner the question arose. "So, what's your rule about Halloween Candy?" "Only 1 piece" was my curt response. "Wow, that's harsh!" (giggle, giggle, giggle), and then they shared their "rule": The kids can eat as much candy as they want on Halloween. After that it's gone.

That's much better than the horribly limiting only one piece rule, so we adopted theirs. And it worked fabulously. Twig was extremely excited about trick-or-treating. He tromped the neighborhood, gathering way too many sugary delights, announcing each one as he received it, practically squealing with each new addition to his bag. Then, Twig was allowed to engorge himself with Laffy Taffy, Now and Laters, and a bit of Chocolate. And then it was over. But boy was he happy!

Just Like Ligtening!

2007-09-22T16:58:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Wonelle and a boy named Wood. They met and fell in love. Then they decided to get married. They had a beautiful wedding and all of the people that were important to them came to the wonderful celebration. After Wonelle and Wood got married they decided to have a baby. The baby grew and grew inside Wonelle's tummy for a long time. Then one day the baby decided that it was time to come out. After three long days and a bit of help from Wood, Doula, and Dr. I, Twig was born! And we were very, very happy!

In this photo, we are in Hawaii vacationing with friends. We had been married just over a year. I am pleased to not be pregnant. Twig is 5 months old. He's so pudgy, sweet, happy, and addicted to chi-chi milk. Wood was shell-shocked. I was miserable. Five months into parenting and we all were overwhelmed with our new-found-family.

Wedding daze, pregnancy haze, and the nursing maze are all quite distant now. We've been married for over 4 years, I haven't been pregnant for three, and nursing ended seven months ago. I feel like the woman that walked on clouds after our wedding and before pregnancy. It's strange but maybe Three is the magic number.

Happy Birthday, Twig!