Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Ego, ergo

Stupid question: Does anybody ever succeed in getting away from her ego? I mean, without going off to be a nun or a monk or run an orphanage or something. Does anyone who ends up staying put, and picking her kids' noses and cleaning up the cherry pits that the 3-year-old keeps spitting on the floor under the table, and trying to get the 6-year old to understand that he needs to quit interrupting, and putting the cold cloths on their heads at night and trying to decide if setting an alarm system on the doors counter-balances the open second-story windows, and cleaning out the cat box--that chick--does she ever figure out how to forget about whether people like her or like her kids or think that her house is clean enough or that she's clever enough or all those other stupid things that get in the way of just being satisfied? So maybe she could quit staring up at the dark air above her head at night and wondering why she can't just be a good enough mother or daughter or friend or whatever the hell else?

I think if I could quit caring about all that shit, I could do anything. But I don't know how to quit. I keep thinking I know, but then I fuck it up. I want everyone to think I'm this funny, smart, attractive woman with these well-behaved brilliant children. Which is just the most destructive want I can think of. Stupid, stupid, and impossible, and embarrassing, and just awful.

Kick me.

Two years ago, the Boy was about to go into kindergarten and he decided he wanted to play soccer. Okay, we said, great!

Not so great. Kind of a friggin' disaster, actually, filled with fun moments like screaming, pushing, throwing of oneself onto the ground and refusing to move (in the middle of the field in the middle of a game). So forth. So on. Which is fine when you're 2 but not so hot when you're 5.

This was right in the middle of the Difficult Period, so I don't know. It was stressful, but not really surprising, and anyway I'm not so much a Lover of All Teams Athletic (having been the Last Girl Picked on nearly every occasion). Here's the thing: I was such a miserable little kid, and I just keep thinking that if I try hard enough, I can save my kids from being miserable little kids, too. But can I? I mean, isn't it just part of everything? It all gets mixed up.

Long story long, the Boy decided he wants to try soccer again. Which brings up the angst in me, even though he's grown a lot in these past 2 years and is much more in control of himself emotionally. I just don't want the pack to turn on him. Damn, I hate the pack.

But it's his childhood. Not mine. And if he wants to try it again, then I've got to let him. I've got to quit projecting all this shite onto my kids. I mean, hell, we're lucky that this is even an option. It's like, the problems we have now are so small compared to what they were, why am I just waiting for something to go south? That's just a stupid way to live. Why not just believe that things will keep getting better instead of waiting for them to crash and burn?

Anyway, we signed him up for a 1-week camp, and if it is just awful we can drop him out of the fall registration. I can't keep him all safe and isolated. That's just crazy talk.

Friday, June 23, 2006

"My new anonymous name" is wussing out on me

Dudes. Here we are in the middle of a toe-painting vodka party, and She Who Will Not Be Named has to go home so she can get up in time for garage sales in the morning. Because, ok, so she is all crafty and makes money reselling stuff, but is that more vital than drunken toe-painting with moi???


What would Jesus do, is what I ask you people.

Sunday, June 18, 2006


I grew up believing that everyone has a gift. Too much religion or too many Disney movies, maybe, but there it is. Everyone has a gift, and you just have to find yours. And for years, I felt more and more desperate: What's my friggin' gift? I can't figure it out. I'm not really great at anything. Oh, I'm smart enough, and I can do lots of things well enough to be going on with, but I'm not particularly talented in any one way. It's been this sort of gnawing worry. What if I can't figure it out? What if I can't find it? What if I waste my whole life and never ever do the one thing I was put on earth to do?

For a while, when we were first married, we had this dog. And I used to take her for walks after dinner, and in the winter that meant after dark. Which was okay, because she was a big friggin' dog and part wolf (yeah, I know), and who was going to mess with me with that dog on the leash?

Anyway. I'd take her for walks and it was frosty and dark and we lived in the older part of town then. And I used to love looking in the windows of the houses we passed. Not in a creepy way, of course; just looking in as we passed if the curtains were open. There was a man who made violins, and his workroom was on the street and everytime we walked by I felt like the whole world was in the right place. Just seeing that house, that room, and that man carving out the curve of a handle, the half-finished was like seeing everyone in the world, all at once.

When I was younger, I played a different version of this game; whenever we'd drive home at night I'd look out at all the lights we'd pass and try to imagine all the people living in those houses, working late in those buildings. Sometimes, now, this is the way I pass the time when I'm stuck in line. This woman in front of me, this man behind me. I look at my children, and I see a line running ahead through years and years, and back through years and years, and across the entire Earth. Why do we think we're all so alone out here?

This strange idea has been forming in my head for the past several months. What if my purpose, this thing I'm supposed to do, is just that? See. Just look, and look, and really, truly see.

Monday, June 12, 2006

For Raehan

One more week. Give me one more week.

Last Friday I went over to the Chica's for dinner and wine to celebrate the fact that I'd made it through that week! And also just to go over to the Chica's for dinner and wine. And did I mention there was wine?

Nothing impossible, just a busy start to June. I wasn't going to mention any of it, bad or good, because I didn't want to jinx myself, but then I realized that I don't believe in jinxes anymore.

The Ex went through something, and all I'm going to say is that it was a Bad Something, about as bad as it's ever been, but that it seems to have also been a turning point and since then things seem to be going much, much better for him. Better for him, of course=better for La Famille=better for me. Yay!

Work. has. been. nuts. But hey! I get to be nuts in the comfort of my own home! And I found a neighbor girl who just started baby sitting, charges $2/hour/kid, and is perfect as afternoon coverage when I need to get in extra work but don't want to leave the kids in school all day. They get to come home and go to the park or play at home instead. Yay!

And one place they get to play is the basement, which I finally have managed to almost completely clean up so they can use it as a playroom. Still a few boxes to unpack and spare carpet to put down and cement walls to paint, but in general...Yay!

And I'm closing on the old house this Friday. Part of all the hecticnessity was getting last minute repair stuff done. But it'll be over Friday. Yay!

Oh, and here comes my Girl, down the stairs, all messy-haired in her pink pajamas that used to be mine. Yay!

But I miss you guys, and I cruised by a few of your places yesterday, and oy I've been neglectfull. I'm sorry. One more week.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Crazy like a tea cozy

Everything's good, it's great, it's just INSANELY busy. Some of it is work, some of it is personal stuff that I'll tell you about as soon as I know it's safe to do so without jinxing myself, and some of it is stuff that you'll just have to live without knowing. I'll be back as soon as I can catch my breath!

Here's something to consider, in the meantime. Sometimes, it really is a choice: Do you mine the last drop of drama from your life, or do you choose to just ... not? It's odd, the beginnings of the feeling that I am going to choose the latter. It feels a bit risky, oddly enough, to choose peacefulness over drama.

Oh, and I got my hair cut. And I bought new running shoes. This should be interesting.