Vermont summer nights have brought us late bedtimes, visiting cousins, fireflies and slugs. Deer have discovered my perennial garden and I am restless while sleeping... waiting to see the motion detection light come on and then to shout out my window like a grumpy old lady as a sweet little doe scampers away.
The twins are like monsters without school, Myles is working 7 AM-7 PM this month with about 2 free weekends. Otherwise it's a 6 day work week for him. We barely communicate. Apparently the kids sense that something is "off", and have a hard time figuring out how to get our attention in positive ways. I barely want to have play dates because the girls ruthlessly torture their friends with verbal abuse. They know just how to hurt feelings... and mine too. So I've done a bit of an overhaul with how things will operate in the house - from earning their treats and allowance, to a zero tolerance policy with attitude and rude language and most importantly - reinforcing the benefits of positive behavior. It seems to be working. The only problem lies in my energy level to keep up the consistency. Any glitch in my "system" gives poor results, no doubt.
A Facebook "friend" (we've never met) who recently gave birth to twins updated her status as being: "scattered, smothered and diced". I couldn't relate more. I am a greasy, fatty, chopped up Waffle House hash brown. I wanted to tell her that things would really improve once the kids were older... but that would have been a cliche and a lie. Twins do have the bonus of a built-in buddy when they grow up, but they also have a significant amount of "twinny" baggage to deal with socially. And to be a parent to their twin-ness is complicated. (For example, inviting 2 friends to play usually works better than inviting 1, and telling one they did a great job making their bed when the other is being a grump and won't cooperate makes me feel like I'm picking favorites.)
Fortunately the end of this month will allow Myles and I to take a trip to Southwest Harbor Maine for a friend's wedding. We have enlisted the help of his dad and sister for the weekend and we'll take a 6 hour drive out there. Hopefully we won't want to kill one another by the time we get back and we can have a bit of relaxation... it is our 6 year anniversary on the 28th after all.
The following Monday we head to Nantucket for the month of July. No Myles, save for 1 weekend. It should be altogether weird. I don't have better words - and I don't know how I'll feel. Part of me doesn't care how I feel. I'm really tired of figuring out feelings, mine or anybody else's. It's pretty lonely. Pretty empty. Pretty depressing.
Last night I had a dream that I was running a marathon - the Middletown CT Marathon (which doesn't exist). I started out with a group of friends, running at what we thought was the front of the pack, but somehow we got separated. My running seemed slow and frustrating. My feet like cinder blocks, my stride short and useless. I turned to a friend and said, "just so you know, when you are running in a dream, it's impossible to lift up your thighs and really pick up the pace." She seemed confused. But I knew I was in a dream. So I switched to a side step. It was much easier... skip skip-skip... We eventually finished, and I crossed the line sideways. Nobody was there to greet us. The following day Myles was scanning the results in a local newspaper. "How'd I do?" I asked. "6 hours 25 minutes, " he said in a monotone.
And that's all I remember. Frantic. Empty. Scattered. Smothered. Covered. Chunked. Diced.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Reduction in Forces
Dr. Webster is on another overnight at the hospital which has left me feeling refreshed and organized. The last few months have been uncharacteristically easy for Myles - he's had minimal call and plenty of free weekends, and the added bonus of arriving home before dinner time on weeknights. Honestly though, I'm always relatively surprised at how thankful I am for these evenings alone.
My thoughts have been bent on the concept of self-change recently. It's put me in a pretty low, dark, shadowy place... I'm trying really hard to figure out what components of my life seem worth fighting for. I'm attempting to have feelings about the course of my 30's, rather than just following the path that has been carved out by my husband's career. And then there's the idea that I will scar my children deeply if I don't give them every bit of my attention. My therapist is trying to discern whether or not I have created the concept of "Perfect Mom" from my mother's example, or from societal impact. (I say it's both. And perhaps it's exacerbated by the latter. True ignorance might really be bliss... how sick is that?)
But does anyone really do a full persona-overhaul? Or better yet, an ego-overhaul? And at what cost? I mean, I'm only 33... I feel like I could be 50. There's plenty of time for change... it only took me 20 years to get sucked into my current mental status. All that being said, I love thinking that I have more to offer the world - and simultaneously that very thought terrifies me.
How to proceed?
(New mantra: Harvey Milk Harvey Milk Harvey Milk... or as the wise Eminem once proclaimed, "You betta lose yo self in the music the moment...")
I won't lie. My head is like soup... too many ingredients. I'm hoping if I boil it long enough it will reduce to something yummier.
My thoughts have been bent on the concept of self-change recently. It's put me in a pretty low, dark, shadowy place... I'm trying really hard to figure out what components of my life seem worth fighting for. I'm attempting to have feelings about the course of my 30's, rather than just following the path that has been carved out by my husband's career. And then there's the idea that I will scar my children deeply if I don't give them every bit of my attention. My therapist is trying to discern whether or not I have created the concept of "Perfect Mom" from my mother's example, or from societal impact. (I say it's both. And perhaps it's exacerbated by the latter. True ignorance might really be bliss... how sick is that?)
But does anyone really do a full persona-overhaul? Or better yet, an ego-overhaul? And at what cost? I mean, I'm only 33... I feel like I could be 50. There's plenty of time for change... it only took me 20 years to get sucked into my current mental status. All that being said, I love thinking that I have more to offer the world - and simultaneously that very thought terrifies me.
How to proceed?
(New mantra: Harvey Milk Harvey Milk Harvey Milk... or as the wise Eminem once proclaimed, "You betta lose yo self in the music the moment...")
I won't lie. My head is like soup... too many ingredients. I'm hoping if I boil it long enough it will reduce to something yummier.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
10 years later
I've been looking for appropriate words to describe my experience at the Wesleyan 10 year reunion... and last night Lyllah left me a message on the phone that said, "um, did we just go to our college reunion, or was that just a really bad dream?"
And she's kinda right. First of all, we just went for a very short period of time - and literally bolted out of the place on Sunday morning - but the entire thing was such a wacky onslaught of emotions and memories. Some flashbacks were very entertaining (same staff at Neon Deli, just more wrinkles and grey hair), others were just plain depressing (brand new Usdan campus center feels unfamiliar and un-cozy, the field behind West-Co where I spent some time hallucinating is now a huge set of new dorms). Oh, and how could I forget to mention the gorgeous young graduates? These kids wear next to no clothing... and they do it very very well. My wrinkles and sagging belly button felt entirely out of place... along with my wedding ring and collection of my kids photos in my iPhone.
Not everybody goes back to their college after 10 years feeling 100 percent happy. That seems normal. But I wonder how many of the people I saw there would have said, "Shit. I really didn't know what I had offered to me back then. Too bad I took advantage of NONE of it." What a spoiled, confused, misdirected little brat I was back then... an enormous waste of money! Really, part of me feels like Wesleyan is for other people - people who know how to complete their assignments on time and are politically active... but another part of me feels like I got to be a part of an extraordinary place (the kind of place that draws graduation speakers like Barack Obama, Anna Quindlen and Oprah) and I was supposed to find my "thing" while I was there.
It came as no surprise to see that none of my classmates have 3 kids. None of the women I saw had changed their last names after being married. And I didn't meet a single stay-at-home-mom (but I admit, I wasn't searching them out). What I'm getting at is that it has been difficult to feel like I'm attacking my life in a different pattern - to put my career off for later in my life. The thought of going backwards into an academic mindset seems nearly impossible, especially in the creative department, because I feel wildly outdated and old. There's part of me that feels ashamed for not continuing some form of work while dealing with my kids - as both a model for them and as a method to make the transition back to work or an advanced degree easier.
We all have regrets. I see that clearly every day. I just have so much doubt in my ability to tackle some of the regrets that might be lurking around the corner.
And she's kinda right. First of all, we just went for a very short period of time - and literally bolted out of the place on Sunday morning - but the entire thing was such a wacky onslaught of emotions and memories. Some flashbacks were very entertaining (same staff at Neon Deli, just more wrinkles and grey hair), others were just plain depressing (brand new Usdan campus center feels unfamiliar and un-cozy, the field behind West-Co where I spent some time hallucinating is now a huge set of new dorms). Oh, and how could I forget to mention the gorgeous young graduates? These kids wear next to no clothing... and they do it very very well. My wrinkles and sagging belly button felt entirely out of place... along with my wedding ring and collection of my kids photos in my iPhone.
Not everybody goes back to their college after 10 years feeling 100 percent happy. That seems normal. But I wonder how many of the people I saw there would have said, "Shit. I really didn't know what I had offered to me back then. Too bad I took advantage of NONE of it." What a spoiled, confused, misdirected little brat I was back then... an enormous waste of money! Really, part of me feels like Wesleyan is for other people - people who know how to complete their assignments on time and are politically active... but another part of me feels like I got to be a part of an extraordinary place (the kind of place that draws graduation speakers like Barack Obama, Anna Quindlen and Oprah) and I was supposed to find my "thing" while I was there.
It came as no surprise to see that none of my classmates have 3 kids. None of the women I saw had changed their last names after being married. And I didn't meet a single stay-at-home-mom (but I admit, I wasn't searching them out). What I'm getting at is that it has been difficult to feel like I'm attacking my life in a different pattern - to put my career off for later in my life. The thought of going backwards into an academic mindset seems nearly impossible, especially in the creative department, because I feel wildly outdated and old. There's part of me that feels ashamed for not continuing some form of work while dealing with my kids - as both a model for them and as a method to make the transition back to work or an advanced degree easier.
We all have regrets. I see that clearly every day. I just have so much doubt in my ability to tackle some of the regrets that might be lurking around the corner.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Double!
A double rainbow appeared in our back yard a few weekends ago. I have never seen anything quite like it. Moments beforehand, Myles and his dad were caught outside in a hail storm that dropped cherry-sized ice nuggets from the sky. Jim came in and said, "I bet this will blow over in 5 minutes and there will be a rainbow." But we got TWO.
This time of year seems about as busy as Christmas for me, with the end of school and outdoor maintenance, pending reunions, weddings and housekeeping galore. It's enough to drive me to insanity because I can't figure out how to feel good about putting my personal goals aside for a few weeks. And then comes true summer - where I kind of give up everything and my brain farts out to the fantasy land of Nantucket. All three kids are completely excited for our month long visit. They are obsessed with my mom and her grandmotherly magic, and they understand just how delicious that "faraway island" is... and I just adore sharing it with them.
But that escape is such an escape! And I very easily slip into the romantic side of my brain, filled with that nostalgia... the memories of being young and in love... tan young and athletic... entirely carefree and self-centered. Nantucket can be almost painful for me as a parent - and as a person struggling with the complexities of marriage.
It's hard to anticipate my time spent there, where my Mom takes care of us, and Myles is here in Norwich, working endlessly and begging us to come home (to share his boredom perhaps).
I still need to make it through June up here though. Tomorrow we are headed to NYC for our annual adventure with my entire family. Penny is so excited to take the subway... she shouts, "'Tain ride!!!! Penny!!" and jumps up and down, sometimes so vigorously that she falls over. Eloise and Ruby want to go see the dinosaur bones and get "a manicure with tiny flowers from those really nice ladies"... then there's lots of discussion about who is getting what color and what design on what finger. We had a big discussion about what kind of soaps they have in the hotel bathroom.
Maybe my next post will have some reflections on heading to Middletown CT for my 10th college reunion... wowzas!
This time of year seems about as busy as Christmas for me, with the end of school and outdoor maintenance, pending reunions, weddings and housekeeping galore. It's enough to drive me to insanity because I can't figure out how to feel good about putting my personal goals aside for a few weeks. And then comes true summer - where I kind of give up everything and my brain farts out to the fantasy land of Nantucket. All three kids are completely excited for our month long visit. They are obsessed with my mom and her grandmotherly magic, and they understand just how delicious that "faraway island" is... and I just adore sharing it with them.
But that escape is such an escape! And I very easily slip into the romantic side of my brain, filled with that nostalgia... the memories of being young and in love... tan young and athletic... entirely carefree and self-centered. Nantucket can be almost painful for me as a parent - and as a person struggling with the complexities of marriage.
It's hard to anticipate my time spent there, where my Mom takes care of us, and Myles is here in Norwich, working endlessly and begging us to come home (to share his boredom perhaps).
I still need to make it through June up here though. Tomorrow we are headed to NYC for our annual adventure with my entire family. Penny is so excited to take the subway... she shouts, "'Tain ride!!!! Penny!!" and jumps up and down, sometimes so vigorously that she falls over. Eloise and Ruby want to go see the dinosaur bones and get "a manicure with tiny flowers from those really nice ladies"... then there's lots of discussion about who is getting what color and what design on what finger. We had a big discussion about what kind of soaps they have in the hotel bathroom.
Maybe my next post will have some reflections on heading to Middletown CT for my 10th college reunion... wowzas!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Penelope in the Sky
It feels like forever since I have written. So many things have happened and I am constantly swept up in everyday moments. Blogging is the last thing on my mind... but it nags a bit in the back of my head. I wonder if keeping my life on file like this is helpful at all. In the attempt to get my creative career underway I have joined a print studio, taken a workshop and started making things again. My psychotherapy has been wildly helpful in initiating this process as I discover how bizarre-o it feels to NEED to make things, even if ultimately I hate the thought of putting my art out there for other folks to see.
Seems kind of odd, considering that this self-indulgent blog process is pretty much a "hey, look at me and my life!" kind of display. I guess that's why I've been shying away from writing. That and the fact that my situation with Myles hasn't really improved to any remarkable degree... I wish so much that I could say we are making great strides, but our relationship often seems like one step forward, six steps back. I don't blame him. I just don't.
A lot of it has to do with me. I'm such a sucker for the "family" that we have. But I am more concerned than ever before about the model that I am presenting to the girls. We actively demonstrate that poor communication is acceptable, and that settling for minimal affection and attention is a fine way to live! How horrible to say this - to know these things, yet not fully understand how to initiate true change in our behavior patterns. Thankfully I do feel more alert and aware of how I'm acting in front of the kids... what kind of energy I'm throwing out in the world, and I clearly recognize how they feed off of it, and occasionally spin it back in my direction.
Early spring brings changes though. I am hopeful. Just seeing people in lighter clothing, bearing my pale arms in public and spending time on playgrounds has opened up my mind a bit. We are planning the summer out. I'm gearing up to make lots and lots of stuff for a grad school application/portfolio due in the fall.
When I'm feeling more fun and less heady, I'll tell you some stories.
Seems kind of odd, considering that this self-indulgent blog process is pretty much a "hey, look at me and my life!" kind of display. I guess that's why I've been shying away from writing. That and the fact that my situation with Myles hasn't really improved to any remarkable degree... I wish so much that I could say we are making great strides, but our relationship often seems like one step forward, six steps back. I don't blame him. I just don't.
A lot of it has to do with me. I'm such a sucker for the "family" that we have. But I am more concerned than ever before about the model that I am presenting to the girls. We actively demonstrate that poor communication is acceptable, and that settling for minimal affection and attention is a fine way to live! How horrible to say this - to know these things, yet not fully understand how to initiate true change in our behavior patterns. Thankfully I do feel more alert and aware of how I'm acting in front of the kids... what kind of energy I'm throwing out in the world, and I clearly recognize how they feed off of it, and occasionally spin it back in my direction.
Early spring brings changes though. I am hopeful. Just seeing people in lighter clothing, bearing my pale arms in public and spending time on playgrounds has opened up my mind a bit. We are planning the summer out. I'm gearing up to make lots and lots of stuff for a grad school application/portfolio due in the fall.
When I'm feeling more fun and less heady, I'll tell you some stories.
Monday, March 23, 2009
And Now We Are Five
Ruby and Eloise turned five on March 14th. For the first time ever we had a real (super awesome) birthday party... complete with fairy costumes, lots of friends from school, a piñata, goodie bags and a craft. It's taken some time for us to actually live in a home that could accommodate such a party - but I've always wanted this for my kids. Home parties are so much fun, if you can get over the glitter in the rugs, the frosting imbedded in your throw pillows, the noise, the moderate dramas regarding who gets which piece of the cake decoration, etc.. We even allowed our guests to bring gifts for the first time (which will be pared down for future parties), but we had them open them after everyone left. When you have twins, the present total adds up quickly and it's just a gross display of crap... that being said, they got great thoughtful gifts and they were enormously appreciated.
Having 5 year olds is a dream. The only drawback is that they seem so grown up that I can hardly feel connected to them. They do have some shocking Mollie and Myles character traits though.
At the current moment, nothing is funnier to them than poop, butt-cracks, boogers, vaginas and of course, the mysterious penis. The experts say this is a developmental phase. "Bathroom talk" is normal for their age...
another confirmation that I am a giant 33 year old child and that we are having a ton of fun together.
Having 5 year olds is a dream. The only drawback is that they seem so grown up that I can hardly feel connected to them. They do have some shocking Mollie and Myles character traits though.
At the current moment, nothing is funnier to them than poop, butt-cracks, boogers, vaginas and of course, the mysterious penis. The experts say this is a developmental phase. "Bathroom talk" is normal for their age...
another confirmation that I am a giant 33 year old child and that we are having a ton of fun together.
Penny. Thigh-High
This lumpkin puts me over the edge with her cuteness. She stole Ruby's socks and threw them on herself.
Monday, March 02, 2009
endless winter
We were hit by an incredible stomach virus last week. I've never seen the kids so sick. It took us a good 5 days to get any real appetite back. I think I did about 900 loads of laundry.
My hope for the future is that I can begin to post photos and write interesting things again.
There is a massive re-organizing campaign in my home now. Martha Stewart Living should come and do a photo shoot.
ahahaha...
My hope for the future is that I can begin to post photos and write interesting things again.
There is a massive re-organizing campaign in my home now. Martha Stewart Living should come and do a photo shoot.
ahahaha...
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
sucked up
I know I've been out of touch but I haven't been able to justify blog entries as a decent way to spend my time. Instead I've decided to eat cookies on the couch while watching recorded episodes of America Idol, Top Chef and Intervention. It's all very healthy, really.
Amidst the endless coughing and runny noses the big girls have learned how to ski. I can't even begin to illustrate the pride and joy I felt as I watched them zooming back and forth down the little slope at the Dartmouth Skiway... then off to the j-bar, like it was some skill they were born with. In my excitement I went out and purchased my very first pair of skis! I have been a skier on and off throughout my life, but I always rented... now I have no excuse but to get my ass out there. I have to admit, I do like the chair lift just as much as I like the skiing-down part. Shit, I could write a short story about the chair lift...
We have enjoyed a couple of skating days as well - one in particular stands out because it was in Ru and El's classmate's back yard. There is a group of houses that share their yards in the center of town, and they ice over a large patch of grass, set up a few picnic tables and 2 fire pits. Add a large pot of hot chocolate... instant coziness. Norwich is fucking cool.
It has been difficult to keep any of my own thoughts straight amidst all of the winter fun. I mean, I have managed to attend two movies and play 2 nights of tennis, I saw a folk guitar player, attended 2 family contra dances, eaten a "local foods" supper, and even braved a contra dance by myself (weird... really fucking weird, but such an experience). I went swimming with Lyllah and her niece at the new aquatics center and then headed over to check out her boyfriend's farm... we saw a lamb that was born that morning. People all around us don't seem phased by winter and thankfully this has helped me not resent it. The cold weather is a given, making 20 degrees seem more than reasonable, and a 62 degree house seem bearable when you step out of the shower.
With the continuation of my therapy and some patchy (okay, two) couples therapy sessions, I have started to pay attention to me... I have abandoned my semi-martyr mentality from the past! (Liberating.) Life is richer in a way - or busier at least.
On the down side, I think I have really pulled away from Myles. Somehow that seems okay. Scary and okay, all at once. I have had a bunch of moments (now being yet another one) where I remember how capable I am when I'm on my own. The nights that Myles spends at the hospital seemed painful and scary when we first moved here (and even more so when we lived in Providence), and now they feel almost delightful. There's something really odd that happens when Myles comes home, like I want to throw all of my responsibilities at him or make him do equal amounts of kid care and house maintenance. Making our lives function together as a unit has become painstaking, and we quietly argue about the most inane crap. I hate having to admit stuff like this. It's not flattering and plenty of you are wondering why I would share such personal information - but I'm working it out. When I hide for a month and keep secrets from everyone my thoughts are sucked up into a dark and useless part of my brain. Getting all of this garbage out to my far away people serves as motivation.
Which reminds me, where are you everybody? Come and play up here. The winters are better in these parts.
Amidst the endless coughing and runny noses the big girls have learned how to ski. I can't even begin to illustrate the pride and joy I felt as I watched them zooming back and forth down the little slope at the Dartmouth Skiway... then off to the j-bar, like it was some skill they were born with. In my excitement I went out and purchased my very first pair of skis! I have been a skier on and off throughout my life, but I always rented... now I have no excuse but to get my ass out there. I have to admit, I do like the chair lift just as much as I like the skiing-down part. Shit, I could write a short story about the chair lift...
We have enjoyed a couple of skating days as well - one in particular stands out because it was in Ru and El's classmate's back yard. There is a group of houses that share their yards in the center of town, and they ice over a large patch of grass, set up a few picnic tables and 2 fire pits. Add a large pot of hot chocolate... instant coziness. Norwich is fucking cool.
It has been difficult to keep any of my own thoughts straight amidst all of the winter fun. I mean, I have managed to attend two movies and play 2 nights of tennis, I saw a folk guitar player, attended 2 family contra dances, eaten a "local foods" supper, and even braved a contra dance by myself (weird... really fucking weird, but such an experience). I went swimming with Lyllah and her niece at the new aquatics center and then headed over to check out her boyfriend's farm... we saw a lamb that was born that morning. People all around us don't seem phased by winter and thankfully this has helped me not resent it. The cold weather is a given, making 20 degrees seem more than reasonable, and a 62 degree house seem bearable when you step out of the shower.
With the continuation of my therapy and some patchy (okay, two) couples therapy sessions, I have started to pay attention to me... I have abandoned my semi-martyr mentality from the past! (Liberating.) Life is richer in a way - or busier at least.
On the down side, I think I have really pulled away from Myles. Somehow that seems okay. Scary and okay, all at once. I have had a bunch of moments (now being yet another one) where I remember how capable I am when I'm on my own. The nights that Myles spends at the hospital seemed painful and scary when we first moved here (and even more so when we lived in Providence), and now they feel almost delightful. There's something really odd that happens when Myles comes home, like I want to throw all of my responsibilities at him or make him do equal amounts of kid care and house maintenance. Making our lives function together as a unit has become painstaking, and we quietly argue about the most inane crap. I hate having to admit stuff like this. It's not flattering and plenty of you are wondering why I would share such personal information - but I'm working it out. When I hide for a month and keep secrets from everyone my thoughts are sucked up into a dark and useless part of my brain. Getting all of this garbage out to my far away people serves as motivation.
Which reminds me, where are you everybody? Come and play up here. The winters are better in these parts.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Ice Storm Madness
You should hear the sound it makes when one of these trees snaps in half... I could have sworn a bear was trying to bust down our front door. Eloise came into the bedroom when it happened and said, "was that a hunter?"
Fortunately Myles' roof was strong enough and there wasn't any damage.
Since this shot was taken, the building has gained some sides and is pretty much done. It makes our property look twice as nice. We are hoping for a true barn dance at some point this spring/summer... live music and keg stands. Camping welcome.
Fortunately Myles' roof was strong enough and there wasn't any damage.
Since this shot was taken, the building has gained some sides and is pretty much done. It makes our property look twice as nice. We are hoping for a true barn dance at some point this spring/summer... live music and keg stands. Camping welcome.
The Barn is Done...
I caught quality winter sun shining all over the new garage. Bring on the chicken coop!
Tina
My freshman year college roommate got married last weekend at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. Definitely added to the top 5 most fun wedding list...
Photo 39
I love my computer in the basement. The girls are into posing for the built-in camera... myself included.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Just for NOW
Before I get into things, I have to yet again apologize for the lack of visuals. Uploading photos takes me more time than I actually have... so I'm actually prioritizing by just getting out these words. Amazing. You just heard me admit I have some sense of priorities, which is relatively new. (For now my therapy is money well spent. I can feel it lifting me out of a fog every day.)
Yesterday I made a big adjustment and took myself for a solo trip to Shaw's Market. If you know me well enough, it should come as no surprise to hear that I am a food snob. I shop at the co-op in Hanover, I prefer organic, and local if I can get it, and I cannot stand taking my kids to a crazy fucked up mainstream market (candy and t.v. characters selling empty food EVERYWHERE). I had a minute to take MYSELF to the market, sans kiddos, and I realized how tight our money is these days. For the moment it's not the economy affecting my wallet, but the little ones' recent bout of pneumonia, everybody is hungrier and thirstier than usual while taking steroids and antibiotics. Oh, and meds for THREE kids... even with good health insurance we pay too much. Christmas gifts set us back a bit, plus heating costs. Long story, I know... but we needed a lot of food, so I chose Shaws.
After taking some time to pick optimal goodies and deals throughout the market (English Muffins! "Conventional" Granny Smiths, FROZEN chicken nuggets, things with hydrogenated oil), I grabbed a 16 pack of Scott toilet paper... extra soft. I tucked it underneath my cart to conserve space. Well, I paid for my gargantuan load of groceries and was quite pleased when the bill came to be $157. That seemed really reasonable considering how much I had packed in!
I strolled the cart out to my car, started loading the bags in the trunk and realized, "Motherfucker, I have neglected to pay for the toilet paper". It never made it up on the checkout counter.
(Big pause. Lots of internal dialogue.)
"I SO don't want to head back into the store in order to show Shaws how honorable I am." "If I drive away with a FREE giant toilet paper pack, will I get hit by a car tomorrow?" "Who just saw me do this on camera?" "How much was the 16 pack anyway?" "Do I deserve this much free ass-wiping material?"
The giant pack was thrown hastily in the trunk.
In the end I decided I DESERVED lots of free toilet paper. Christ, this was my parting gift for spending $157, like when you buy too much makeup from Lancome and they hit you with some lame nylon bag and a tacky lipstick for free...
What a relief. I knew I did the right thing despite the poor karmic consequences! In fact, at this point I'm convincing myself the free toilet paper was a gift from the New Year's Resolution Gods - they are smiling on me as I make better choices, authentic Mollie Nelson choices that will ultimately benefit my three little ladies. Even if that means frozen dinners and more processed food... that doesn't have to be the norm, nor does it have to be forever. It's simply a choice for now.
Just now.
And that's enough.
Yesterday I made a big adjustment and took myself for a solo trip to Shaw's Market. If you know me well enough, it should come as no surprise to hear that I am a food snob. I shop at the co-op in Hanover, I prefer organic, and local if I can get it, and I cannot stand taking my kids to a crazy fucked up mainstream market (candy and t.v. characters selling empty food EVERYWHERE). I had a minute to take MYSELF to the market, sans kiddos, and I realized how tight our money is these days. For the moment it's not the economy affecting my wallet, but the little ones' recent bout of pneumonia, everybody is hungrier and thirstier than usual while taking steroids and antibiotics. Oh, and meds for THREE kids... even with good health insurance we pay too much. Christmas gifts set us back a bit, plus heating costs. Long story, I know... but we needed a lot of food, so I chose Shaws.
After taking some time to pick optimal goodies and deals throughout the market (English Muffins! "Conventional" Granny Smiths, FROZEN chicken nuggets, things with hydrogenated oil), I grabbed a 16 pack of Scott toilet paper... extra soft. I tucked it underneath my cart to conserve space. Well, I paid for my gargantuan load of groceries and was quite pleased when the bill came to be $157. That seemed really reasonable considering how much I had packed in!
I strolled the cart out to my car, started loading the bags in the trunk and realized, "Motherfucker, I have neglected to pay for the toilet paper". It never made it up on the checkout counter.
(Big pause. Lots of internal dialogue.)
"I SO don't want to head back into the store in order to show Shaws how honorable I am." "If I drive away with a FREE giant toilet paper pack, will I get hit by a car tomorrow?" "Who just saw me do this on camera?" "How much was the 16 pack anyway?" "Do I deserve this much free ass-wiping material?"
The giant pack was thrown hastily in the trunk.
In the end I decided I DESERVED lots of free toilet paper. Christ, this was my parting gift for spending $157, like when you buy too much makeup from Lancome and they hit you with some lame nylon bag and a tacky lipstick for free...
What a relief. I knew I did the right thing despite the poor karmic consequences! In fact, at this point I'm convincing myself the free toilet paper was a gift from the New Year's Resolution Gods - they are smiling on me as I make better choices, authentic Mollie Nelson choices that will ultimately benefit my three little ladies. Even if that means frozen dinners and more processed food... that doesn't have to be the norm, nor does it have to be forever. It's simply a choice for now.
Just now.
And that's enough.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Conundrum with the Shrinky Dink
The weird thing about therapy is...
being in therapy.
I am spending a lot of time debating whether any of my time and money spent focusing on myself is useful. I know that's a pretty defeatist attitude, and I know some of that attitude is fueled by some not-so-encouraging family members. How shitty is that? I've also been reminded by Myles that therapy is really a luxury of the upper-middle class. This of course makes me feel HORRIBLE. We can pay for therapy, it's true. And we aren't victims of sexual assault, alcoholics, addicts or members of the lower economic strata... more guilt for my brain. I can't stand it.
This week my assignment was to work on checking in on how I FEEL, rather than trying to tackle some big task (like applying to school, finding childcare, being honest with my mother, calling my financial advisor). I found it pretty funny to realize that I view a therapist like a teacher or a coach giving me homework, and I want concrete things to look for, to mend, to solve... She would rather I take some time to breathe and notice where I'm at emotionally with the things I do.
And the result from this week: nothing. I felt yucky thinking about myself too much.
So I did what I usually do, and have done for the last 13 years, which is to kind of disconnect from my internal dialogue and get involved with doing stuff. We started gingerbread houses with the twins, we decorated the tree, I made beef stew (hysterical... stew always makes me think about Beef Stroke-me-off), I'm making appointments and play dates all over the place. Myles is working his ass off and I can barely think about what he's up to. This is how I deal and distract myself. Why would I want to stop and FEEL how I feel? Especially during the holiday season, when we are more focused on family and friends and rituals... Why bother with ourSELVES?
Acknowledging all of these things has been really really exhausting - yet somehow I am still scrambling around, finding people to look after the kids so I can take myself to the little tiny office above the bank in town... to sit with my shoes off, in an overstuffed couch, face to face with an 50 year old jewish lesbian from Brooklyn who thinks she can help me out. If you had told me this would be my reality 10 years ago I would have laughed in your face.
At the end of the day I do convince myself that the therapist is good. She reminds me that in the end, all we really have is ourselves. When I consider how individual happiness positively affects the people around you - I can't argue against that. So I'm sold on taking care of myself. I just feels kind of lame to admit it.
being in therapy.
I am spending a lot of time debating whether any of my time and money spent focusing on myself is useful. I know that's a pretty defeatist attitude, and I know some of that attitude is fueled by some not-so-encouraging family members. How shitty is that? I've also been reminded by Myles that therapy is really a luxury of the upper-middle class. This of course makes me feel HORRIBLE. We can pay for therapy, it's true. And we aren't victims of sexual assault, alcoholics, addicts or members of the lower economic strata... more guilt for my brain. I can't stand it.
This week my assignment was to work on checking in on how I FEEL, rather than trying to tackle some big task (like applying to school, finding childcare, being honest with my mother, calling my financial advisor). I found it pretty funny to realize that I view a therapist like a teacher or a coach giving me homework, and I want concrete things to look for, to mend, to solve... She would rather I take some time to breathe and notice where I'm at emotionally with the things I do.
And the result from this week: nothing. I felt yucky thinking about myself too much.
So I did what I usually do, and have done for the last 13 years, which is to kind of disconnect from my internal dialogue and get involved with doing stuff. We started gingerbread houses with the twins, we decorated the tree, I made beef stew (hysterical... stew always makes me think about Beef Stroke-me-off), I'm making appointments and play dates all over the place. Myles is working his ass off and I can barely think about what he's up to. This is how I deal and distract myself. Why would I want to stop and FEEL how I feel? Especially during the holiday season, when we are more focused on family and friends and rituals... Why bother with ourSELVES?
Acknowledging all of these things has been really really exhausting - yet somehow I am still scrambling around, finding people to look after the kids so I can take myself to the little tiny office above the bank in town... to sit with my shoes off, in an overstuffed couch, face to face with an 50 year old jewish lesbian from Brooklyn who thinks she can help me out. If you had told me this would be my reality 10 years ago I would have laughed in your face.
At the end of the day I do convince myself that the therapist is good. She reminds me that in the end, all we really have is ourselves. When I consider how individual happiness positively affects the people around you - I can't argue against that. So I'm sold on taking care of myself. I just feels kind of lame to admit it.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
so much for photos
Myles got to spend his birthday on call in the NICU. I got to spend the day freezing my ass off with the kids.
I am so sick and tired of static hair... which is a bad sign, considering it's November.
The wood stove is excellent. Retrieving wood from the wood pile is not.
I can make a perfect chocolate cake with 3 children under the age of 4.
I am on day 4 of diarrhea diapers with Penny (this is the kind of virus that hangs around for 7-10 days, hurrah).
My lips are so chapped that they look like I've put lip liner on.
I won a bid on eBay for limited edition perfume. I can't decide whether I'm proud of it or not...
I am so sick and tired of static hair... which is a bad sign, considering it's November.
The wood stove is excellent. Retrieving wood from the wood pile is not.
I can make a perfect chocolate cake with 3 children under the age of 4.
I am on day 4 of diarrhea diapers with Penny (this is the kind of virus that hangs around for 7-10 days, hurrah).
My lips are so chapped that they look like I've put lip liner on.
I won a bid on eBay for limited edition perfume. I can't decide whether I'm proud of it or not...
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
empty
Here's what's weird: I arrive at this page and think... fuck, now that I'm talking to a therapist once a week, I have nothing to share with my friends. I'm drained! My verbal diarrhea is all seized up. It's a sensation akin to constipation.
The emotions I'm confronting in the shrink's office are so deeply disconcerting and enlightening - I want to smile and cry about everything.
As for kid news, Eloise doesn't have a broken foot. Just a bad sprain (inflicted by her twin sister of course).
Perhaps my next post will have pictures from our kid-free weekend in NYC... lots of good times, good food, good people (MY PEOPLE) and a beautiful wedding.
The emotions I'm confronting in the shrink's office are so deeply disconcerting and enlightening - I want to smile and cry about everything.
As for kid news, Eloise doesn't have a broken foot. Just a bad sprain (inflicted by her twin sister of course).
Perhaps my next post will have pictures from our kid-free weekend in NYC... lots of good times, good food, good people (MY PEOPLE) and a beautiful wedding.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
thanks and i love you
Just a brief howdy to send my appreciation to you guys for loving emails and support. I know my last post sounded horrible. I didn't mean to scare anyone into thinking my marriage is done. I am happy, however, to let everyone in on the fact that Myles and I have LOTS to work on as a couple.
Beyond that, I need to work on myself!
Off to take Eloise to the doctor. We think she might have broken a little bone in her foot...
Beyond that, I need to work on myself!
Off to take Eloise to the doctor. We think she might have broken a little bone in her foot...
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Honesty... Policy
As I just typed the title out I felt my heart get huge. I can hear it throbbing in my head now and my toes feel numb.
I'm not being fair to myself by never writing about how difficult my relationship with Myles happens to be. Plenty of you readers know some of our struggles... you know how we have operated as a unit for about 12-13 years now... but with all this moving around and child-keeping, we have suffered. It's a horrible horrible sad reality that I am completely terrified to address in any real way. I am not really honest with YOU about how much I hurt on a daily basis, I am not really honest with Myles about how icky I feel about us, I am not really honest with my children (actually, I try to keep them from any emotional turmoil, which is neither honest nor real) and most importantly this means I am not honest with myself.
I started some therapy the other day, which has sparked this particular blog. It has some potential to cause MAJOR DISASTER for me.
For us.
So I'm attempting to be honest. Just a little bit. And then maybe you will have to read between the lines in the entries down the road.
Or it will all get juicier.
I'm not being fair to myself by never writing about how difficult my relationship with Myles happens to be. Plenty of you readers know some of our struggles... you know how we have operated as a unit for about 12-13 years now... but with all this moving around and child-keeping, we have suffered. It's a horrible horrible sad reality that I am completely terrified to address in any real way. I am not really honest with YOU about how much I hurt on a daily basis, I am not really honest with Myles about how icky I feel about us, I am not really honest with my children (actually, I try to keep them from any emotional turmoil, which is neither honest nor real) and most importantly this means I am not honest with myself.
I started some therapy the other day, which has sparked this particular blog. It has some potential to cause MAJOR DISASTER for me.
For us.
So I'm attempting to be honest. Just a little bit. And then maybe you will have to read between the lines in the entries down the road.
Or it will all get juicier.
Monday, October 20, 2008
WARNING!
This photo tells the story of my life right now. Penelope does absolutely everything to ensure she's in danger at all times. Looking for a bee at the bottom of a water-filled bucket... can you say "drowning hazard"?
Yesterday she fell off of 3 different chairs in the kitchen and took a spill down our cement front steps. I guess that's better than the time she fell backwards from the large boulder in our driveway and landed with her diaper-butt stuck in a rodent hole. No injuries thus far... but with a pediatric resident as father I have been convinced that a trip to the E.R. should follow shortly.
Oh, and HUGE photo upload at my Flickr site... click on the Penny pic here and it should take you there. View the slideshow titled VT Fall 2008 if you have a minute or two. You are so jealous that you don't live here. New England Paradise... complete with tempting apples.
Yesterday she fell off of 3 different chairs in the kitchen and took a spill down our cement front steps. I guess that's better than the time she fell backwards from the large boulder in our driveway and landed with her diaper-butt stuck in a rodent hole. No injuries thus far... but with a pediatric resident as father I have been convinced that a trip to the E.R. should follow shortly.
Oh, and HUGE photo upload at my Flickr site... click on the Penny pic here and it should take you there. View the slideshow titled VT Fall 2008 if you have a minute or two. You are so jealous that you don't live here. New England Paradise... complete with tempting apples.
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