Resolution Recap .. In short

Yeah, let's just say I really haven't done didly.

I haven't been exercising.

I haven't found a career goal, besides same money, less hours.

I haven't been biting my anger, I think I've just been angry less in general.

I haven't thought much about my business.

I have, however, been trying to get out more. Coffee, lunch, whatever.

1 out of 5... Could be worse.

Yeah, I Talk Shit, and What?

Half the posts on here were written in anger. It doesn't mean that I will always be angry at that person, but at the moment, this blog ... my blog ... is the most constructive way of releasing it.

I'm a future-tripper, a mind-tripper, a perpetual worrier. If I didn't get it out, I can't even imagine how much crazier I would be.

Just because P is a jerk-off one day, I'm not going to leave him.

And if Teresa buys me a present for my birthday with my name on it, and a present for Taryn inside, I might be bitter, but I'm not going to hold it against her forever (though I may bring it up every couple weeks just to rag on her).

And if Johana makes dumb-ass comments and pretends to understand when she really has no idea what I'm talking about, it doesn't take away from the fact that she's great with Taryn. I'm not going to send her home for not being exactly what I expected.

So I just wanted to clarify, for myself and my reader(s) that yes, I post in anger. Yes, at the moment those sentiments capture perfectly the rage or hurt I'm feeling, and I may hold a grudge for a little while, but I'm learning forgiveness.

So much easier to forgive others than myself. But that's a whole 'nother blog.

Screw Your Contradictions

How can you look at me like I'm an evil mother for letting her cry herself to sleep, and in the next breath say it's my fault she's crying because I comfort her when she does?

You don't have kids, wench. You don't understand.

Just a Thought

It seems to me that the thing that brings you together, is rarely what keeps you there.

In contemplating my closest friends, how we met, what we talked about in the beginning, and how our relationships are now, I'm realizing that the thing that we initally bonded over is hardly the basis of our realtionship.

I think a part of me assumed that our similarities are what would mold our friendship, and in a sense they have but only to give us an initial jumping off point; something to discuss while we got to know the real person inside. And though similarities are super-important in maintaining friendships that are in sync with your personal values, and for creating a strong foundation on which to build a relationship, I'm starting to think that it's the differences that keep us interested.

Because really, as smart and beautiful, and creative, and funny, and interesting as I am, I don't think I'd like to be around my twin all day long. Well, maybe I would because I am pretty FN cool....

But anyway, maybe I'm not a good example. I guess I just see how important it is to create a balance with people you hang out with, where opposites really do attract, and it's expected to have conflicting opinions sometimes. Learning about people's quirks and beliefs totally different from mine is part of the reason I was so interested in psychology, and I guess I'm one of those people who can really appreciate people's differences.

They might piss me off, but I can mostly see how they make you interesting to me.

Amyway, no real point here... just thinking.

Golden Showers

It's one thing to pee on yourself.

Or to get a little piddle on your shoe from an over-excited puppy.

Or Golden Showers from your partner, if you like it like that.

(In a totally non-sexual way, let me say I have been thisclose to being tinkled on by P. Let's just say alcohol, target practice, and laziness are a dangerous combination.)

But for some reason, I was totally shocked to get hosed off by Taryn last night.

See, when one of us gets her bath ready, the other usually takes off her jammies and diaper, gets the towel ready, you know, that parental teamwork stuff. So P was running water in her infant tub in the sink last night, and I after I took all her stuff off, I was holding her for all of like a minute without a diaper on, waiting for him to get the water the right temperature.

And I start to feel water dripping down my arm.

My first thought was that she drooled, or spit or something. I've been puked on, smeared by runny snot and boogers, and fallen victim to a dangerously full diaper, but never once, before last night, had she ever peed on me.

So I look down, and there is all this water on the floor. And then nasty-ass Rosco starts licking it up!

I almost up-chucked. Really.

I've seen her pee without a diaper on before. When she was real little, if we took too long to lotion her up after her bath, she'd usually let it dribble a bit. And one time when I was getting her bath ready up in our bathroom, P was letting her walk around without a dipaer on and she tinkled on our floor.

But this was a first for me.

So of course I freaked out. Making those "I'm about to ralf" faces, handed her off to her Papa, and ran upstairs to take a scalding hot shower with lots of soap and wash it all away. Kind of the same way I react now when I have to change a poopy diaper. I wish she could have been breast-fed until she was out of diapers, because they are the most foul smelling, disgusting consistency, straight up nasty-est things I have ever had to deal with in my long, experienced life.

Yeck.

Anyway, I survived. Maybe next time it won't be such a big deal. But damn, she freaked me out there for a minute.

Wasted on the Young

If I knew then what I know now, would I have done it differently?

But then if things were different back then, who would I be now?

So Quiet

Everyone is sleeping.

Taryn, Johana and I got back from Target about an hour ago. I walked the dogs, put all the shopping away, and I was about to crawl into bed beside P-Dely and nap the afternoon away but...

It's so quiet.

I can't hear the freeway, or cars driving past my house.

I can't hear dogs barking, or kids playing, or loud music from the neighbors.

All I hear are the birds outside, and the steady whir of Taryn's fan.

It's amazing the things you notice when it's quiet. I'm one of those people who turns down the radio when I'm driving and looking for a house I haven't been to before, and when it's quiet, I just seem to notice more.

Like the small crick in the back of my neck from watching a movie on the couch last night.

And the way the middle of the floor is clean from the dog hair being blown into the corners.

The sweet smell of an open can of Hanson's soda.

And Taryn's nasty, crusty-ass binkie that she loves unconditionally.

The breeze is nice and cool, I have fruit salad downstairs. I think I'll go read a book, savor the silence, relax, and enjoy my hard-to-find solitude before everyone wakes up.

Deleted

Okay, so I just found out through myspace that evidently I am no longer someone's friend. I guess I should have known, I mean, some people just don't see how much they are inconveniencing others, how inappropriate their actions really are, and sometimes those same people just can't deal with hearing the truth of their situation.

I won't re-hash the details, suffice to say this person was putting me in a very fucked-up situation, and I told her I didn't want to be there anymore. Period.

And if that's wrong of me, to protect myself and my family, so be it. I have to do what I feel is right, because in the past I fumed in secret when these requests were made, and they kept coming, and coming. Even after promises that they would stop, it got out of hand.

I'm loyal to a fault, however, when you haven't know me that long and you impose on me and my family, making us feel uncomfortable and irritated, asking us to do things for you that you shouldn't be asking anyone in the first place, then I have to put a stop to it.

I'm sorry Crazy, that you feel like you can't be friends with me if I don't help you keep tabs on your husband, but maybe you need to take a look at yourself and re-evaluate not only your marriage, but the kind of person you are becoming.

All in the Delivery

Sometimes the tone of someone's voice can send you into a tailspin, even when the words are entirely harmless.

And sometimes the lack of words is so much worse than anything that could have been said.

Kids These Days

I was standing at the corner, about to head home yesterday after taking the dogs for a walk. Across the street from me were two little Black girls, probably no more than six or seven years old riding hot-pink bikes with the white wheels and streamers off the handlebars.

A White guy in a pick-up sped down the street between us with his windows down and music blasting, and right after he passed the three of us, the younger girl turned to her friend with her head cocked to the side in a confused look and said with the most attitude I've ever heard out of such a small person,

"What the hell was he bumping?"

Month Nine

T-Boogie, you are officially nine months old today!

Sweet Jesus, you are an amazing little thing. Even though for the last few weeks you haven't wanted anything to do with anyone new, this past week end at your Papa and I's five year wedding anniversary party, you were jolly as a fat man in a donut shop to sit with whoever wanted to hold you, playing with balloons, walking with Anthony, generally being the light of the party, and my life.

That top tooth has finally popped through, and actually you now have cut four teeth and two more up top are splitting. You've finally figure out how to grab onto the bumper in your crib and fall down without hurting yourself, so we're not up every hour or so to help you lay back down at night anymore. You're mastering the crawling thing, though you'd much rather stand and when you're wearing your footies, you still sometimes go in reverse instead.

And the most wonderful accomplishment of this month? You wave. And you know what it means. The first time you waved was last Tuesday to your Uncle Jeff. He had stopped by the house to say hi, and when he was leaving you lifted your little hand up and started flicking your wrist up and down. I thought it was a fluke at first, so I started saying "Say bye-bye to Uncle Jeff," and even with your index finger in your mouth, you sort of waggle your fingers in a semi-wave to say goodbye. And now Love, you wave at everyone with a giant grin on your face when they wave back.

As far as walking, you're getting closer every day. You always pull yourself up onto whatever you can reach, the railings on the crib, the couch, people's boots and pant legs... And you're a serious savage at cruising. You can go back and forth, cross over from the TV on the floor to the bed, you even cruise on a flat wall with nothing to really hold you up, but simply for balance. I've seen you let go a few times and stand by yourself for a few seconds, but I think your center of gravity is like a pregnant woman, just slightly off. But at least you aren't falling forward. I don't think you've seriously hurt yourself yet, but I'm waiting for the day. Maybe then you'll be calling out Mama?

I love seeing you play with other babies. You're a bit rough with Jackson, who comes over a couple days each week, but I think it's because even though you guys are the same size, you know he's not quite as mobile as you and you're always reaching for his binkie, or a toy, or a book he has. I'm not sure if it's a sign you're going to be a bit bossy like Mama, or that you just really like other babies, but my wish for you this month is that you become a social butterly, contratry to your genes, and that you are comfortable in crowds. I see in you a very wise, observant soul, and I hope that it balances out with a friendly, open, and honest communication style.

There hasn't really been anything funner this month than taking you to the beach for the first time. When I set you down in the sand without any socks on, you stood for a full two or three minutes squishing the sand between your toes, observing the texture, the temperature, and how it all moves all around when you do, nothing like the floors at home. Then you sat down, and slowly circled your fingers at your side, feeling how the sand parted before your hands, and peacked just out or your reach. Once you'd gotten the hang of how it moved, you plunged your hands deep into it, pulled them out covered in tiny granules, and promptly stuck them into your mouth. Duckie, I think you were born to be a beach bum. You had so much fun, laughing and giggling when I stood you up at the waters' edge, and you watched the waves rolling in and creeping back out, all the other children playing, the birds swooping and diving. And you giggly contagiously when the water almost hit your Papa and I and we ran back to teh dry sand so our shoes didn't get wet. You didn't even complain when I stuck your hands and feet under freezing cold water to rinse the sand off. It was an amazing day, and all the more special to see how much you love to explore and experience new things.

And thank God you've given up on the razzberries for the time being. People were staring to look at me kind of crazy. You are the most engaging, lovely little beast, and as always, I'm so glad you chose me as your Mama.

I love you,
Mommy.

So Much Easier to Hurt

I'm realizing that when I plan to write for an audience, I am much less inclined to write at all. Initially, I thought that I kind of chicken out from writing for people. I feel as though I put so much energy into my writitng, and then I worry that it's boring, or rude, or pointless and that nobody will want to read it anyway, so why bother?

But really. I think the truth of the matter is that when I write, I face my demons. And I'm scared shitless to let this half-formed part of myself out into the open. It's so easy for me to rant about people who piss me off or how depressed I am. I am so much more comfortable in the dark places than I am being happy, and I don't know how to express myself when I'm not hurting.

My anger is like a sharply honed knife, always ready, always strong, always a threat. And that's simple, because when I feel it, I lay my hands on the computer and the rage flows without any effort at all. But when I feel happy and content in my life I don't know how to express it. I feel like a stumbling toddler, trying to figure out how to walk for the first time, jerkily slapping words together until there is some semblance of a coherent thought, but not quite.

When I re-read my tirades, I can feel instantly how emotionally charged the words are, poised and ready to engulf my emotional self again. But my expressions of joy are dripping in euphamisms and cliched phrases that could have been pulled from any high school text book. I don't know how to convey the nuanced differences between joy and happiness, not like I can drown myself in the overwhelmingly varied expressions of hurt and depression that I am so familiar with.

How sad is that? That I can't express a positive emotion. That my emotional repertoire in general is limited to that which is negative. I don't know how I got like this, or where in life I learned to be so angry, and somehow missed the lesson on how to express contentment.

Because I am content a lot. Holding Taryn in my arms as she drifts off to sleep, or laughing with her as she sings me a baby-song while we walk the dogs. Curled up in bed on a Sunday morning with a cup of coffe in one hand, a book in the other, and the dogs lounging across my feet. Taking a stroll on a crisp Wednesday morning, scooping poop before most people hit the snooze button, or luxuriating in a steaming hot shower.

I try to take pleasure in the little things. I've faced enough disappointment in my life to savor those things that go right, to try to pull the positive from every fucked up situation... I just don't know how to convey that I like my life. I am happy with my routine and my friends and I'm not looking for more anymore. So I guess that is contentment? I really am not sure.

Lots of Good Days, Thank You

The last week or so has been good. Work has been hard, and I'm tired. Taryn hasn't been sleeping well since the last tooth came through (Four!) and her gums are split in two more places so I don't see an end to this in the near future.

But there have been some really good days, as always peppered with irritation and annoyance, but good nonetheless.

We took Taryn to the beach last Saturday. We started out in the late morning with sandwiches and had lunch at the Cheese Factory. While P napped on a blanket on the grass, Johana and I took Taryn around, showing her the ducks, and the other babies who were there. We walked by the dogs which Taryn squealed at, I think she's always shocked to see one bigger than the cat, and let her play in the grass until she started shoving handfuls of mushy cut weeds into her hair and mouth.

After an hour or so, we headed out past Bloinas and over to Stinson. The place was packed, which we didn't really expect seeing as it really wasn't that warm, and once we got Taryn changed and fed, I dropped her in the sand to take some photos. She absolutely loved the sand, couldn't get enough of wiggling her little sausage-toes around to get a feel for the consistency, and mouthing fingurs littered with it. I walked her down to the edge of the water, and let her play in the firmer, packed sand there. She loved watching the guys "surfing" on the bodyboards, the dogs running and chasing the waves, and the seagulls pecking around for forgotten crumbs.

After the beach, I planned to go home and sleep. I was exhausted from partying the night before, and I had promised to go to a bridal shower that I wasn't really wanting to attend anymore. But when we got home, Taryn's Tio Julio and Erin came by so we chatted with them for a while, ate, and I got ready to go.

And of course the Bachelorette party (I couldn't with a clear conscious call what it was a bridal shower) it was a freaking blast. I had so much fun, and even though I was dead on my feet when I got home at 4am, I was so happy with the wonderful time I had, especially since I was expecting much less.

All in all, that day was as close to perfect as I've had in years.

It was as close to perfect as I've had in a long time.

The same week was P and I's 5 year wedding anniversary. We were thinking of a quiet night in, since we had already planned to throw a St. Patrick's Day themed party to celebrate the anniversary with some friends, and funds have been tight lately so we didn't want to stretch ourselves too thin. The day we discussed not really celebrating, I received a delivery from UPS. Inside was a gift certificate to The Melting Pot, the exact place we had wanted to go to celebrate. I was so overwhelmed with gratitude, I'm sure I came off as almost flippant, since Ally was right there when it came, but sometimes I just can't fathom how good friends and God can work together so perfectly sometimes.

So Thursday I was home at lunch, feeding Taryn as I beamoand how exhausted I was and appreciating how beautiful the weather is while simultaneously wondering how to get my mood lifted, and I look at the table and see a box. I was stoked, I thought someone had delivered some fruit to P and I as an anniversary present. But holyjesus, when I opened it, I about tinkled myself in delight. Inside were 12 ginormous strawberries dipped in chocolate, some white, some milk, a couple had nuts or coconut or both white and milk chocolate.... mmmmmmmmmmm. I had to eat one right away, and since the box suggested eating them within 48 hours for the best taste, I've been freely enjoying myself for the last couple days. I still have 6 left, and though I'm sure I could eat them all myself, I have been sharing with P and Johana, and I want to save one for T&B too, so they can savor the wonderful-ness with me too.

I need to do thank you cards. I can't express to people in spoken words how much I appreciate their thoughtfulness, and caring and support. And I don't know if this last week has been better because my neurons are firing in sync, or because I'm feeling for the first time in a long time the good juju I'm surrounded by. It's so easy to focus on the stress and pain, and drama, and all that crap, but I've been trying to see the little things, and just appreciating everyday pleasures like walking the dogs early in the morning before work, or savoring a cup of coffee while I blog, those little everyday pleasures are making the big things more enjoyable too.

What am I?

I'm on both sides of the fence at once.

I don't balance anything, rather, I swing wildly from one extreme to the next.

I love and abhor simultaneously.

I can change my mind in a matter of seconds, from wholheartedly feeling one way to defending the other to the death.

I'm not normal.

I feel most alive when I'm angry.

I rarely ever feel truly happy.

***

I used to blame these wild extremes that co-exist within me on hormones. Then maybe it was because I was bipolar. And now... now I don't know. Now I am who I am.

***

I'm a bitch, but possibly the best friend you could have.

I'm rude and arrogant and self-conscious.

I'm painfully honest and conscientous to a fault.

I'm the hardest-working slacker I know.

I feind for praise and cower under attention.

***

I'm miserable.

Truth of the Matter Is.....

I only wanted to do it as a big green "fuck you" to everyone who thought we wouldn't make it this long.

And I want to have a party because I don't get out as much as I used to, and I want to drink and have fun too.

I've been thinking about this St. Patrick's Day party for a long time, and my original excuse was to have an anniversary party to celebrate P and I's 5 years of being married. But when I really thought about it, I think a nice dinner with just the two of us will be enough. Then we can sit together and appreciate each other and just be alone without all the distractions of other people.

I'm not thinking clearly here. I don't like this huge chasm in my brain right now, because on one side I want to celebrate with our friends and family. I want to get everyone together and thank them for their support the last 5 years, and drink and be merry... but on the other side I want to tell everyone to kiss our asses and go to hell for thinking we wouldn't make it. And yes, I had my doubts at times too, but it's one thing to doubt yourself, and another to doubt someone else. And damnit, I'm angry that people didn't think we could do it, and at the same time I'm grateful for all the shit they talked, because that's what made us strong enough to last the last 5 years.

And I realize in the great scheme of life, 5 years is nothing, but I'm proud of us, and proud of our home, and our baby girl, and proud that we've learned how to fight, and grown together so that we can fight, and make up, and that's what we need to be celebrating. Our maturation together and our willingness to fight when it would be easier to walk away, and the fact that even when everyone told us to call it quits, we stuck it out and have become a great couple in spite of all them.

And that's what we've learned, that we can work things out. And it's not all shits and giggles all the time, but we're seeing more good than bad the past few years and our growing health is supporting our entire familiy, and maybe even WE can be role models.

So yes, I do need a party to celebrate all that we've accomplished. Even if those people coming don't know why we're celebrating, we know, and we're proud and in love, and we're doing fucking fantastic!

Coffee and Wine Playdates

If you're like me, you've probably noticed that since the birth of your child you've begun to socialize less, party less, and generally have less contact with the very people you could benefit the most from being around: other young mothers.

My idea is to start a group, and maintain a group of young mothers in my area who meet once per month for coffee and wine.

On the even-numbered months, we would meet the second Saturday of the month at a coffee shop with our kids, and talk about development, child-rearing issues, and generally get support with being a young, working mother. Partners will be encouraged to stay home and clean (ha!).

On the odd-numbered months, we would meet late afternoon or early evening on the second Saturday of the month at someone's house, pop open a couple bottles of wine, have some fruit and cheese, and talk about music, movies, current events, gossip, whatever. Partners will be encouraged to attend and get to know each other, stay sober to drive us home, and generally be on call for whatever we need.

On both occassions, our kids willl have the opportunity to play together and socialize, and us mothers will have the opportunity to support each other, build relationships, and have a planned monthly event to get out of the house and socialize.

So now I want to know, what do you guys think? Is this something you would like to do? Is this something you could commit to doing once per month? Any ideas, suggestions, or constructive criticisms would be appreciated!

Stuck

Taryn was crying a little while ago, and while I usually don't go in at this time of night she was a bit more hysterical than normal so I popped my head in and found her standing with the crib rails in a death-crip. Seems like she was able to pull herself up, but couldn't figure out how to get back down.

*****

In a similar way, I'm feeling stuck in my own life. I feel like I've put some much time and enegy into some specific friendships, and as much as I just want to bail, I can't figure out how to do it.

I'm pissed at myself about my choice of friends. I'm pissed I didn't see some of them for who they were until it was too late. And while I could always just let go of the friendships, I'm not one to cultivate too many at the same time, and I'm scared to be left alone.

I'm scared of having no one to call when the shit hits the fan, because the people left in my circle have their own lives and their own issues, and I've got a whole boatload of issues all to myself that I don't want to have to give a backstory on before I can rant.

I'm scared of being lonely and making Taryn so much the focus of my life that I screw up hers.

I'm scared of feeling like a loser because I don't have anyone at all.

And I'm also scared to keep these relationships going when I know they aren't good for me, and I know they make me feel like shit but I keep them around, and what in the fuck does that say about me?