Friday, March 6, 2015

Right in the gut...POW!

I woke up feeling like, "hmmmm, it's been a while since my mom called me," 
As if she's still alive & we've both been too busy to catch up (which rarely happened because we'd seldom go more than a day without at least calling each other...several times, at that).
The only time I really answer our house phone (yep, we still have a land line) is when my parents' number flashes on caller ID.
So, for that fleeting moment this morning, I felt like my mom was going to call me.
Swiftly, that thought/feeling fizzled, burnt out, snuffed...
Man.
From the top of the world, light as a feather, high as a motherf*cking kite to
POW punched in the gut.


Thursday, March 5, 2015

Why I Shouldn't/can't Drink (beer)

Well...
Reason #1: (see above mess that is the "title" of this "post"...slashes, gratuitous parentheses, wack punctuation...ugh)
Reason #2: see reason #1 (a pattern emerges, huh?)

when will I learn??
One (one!!) full pint (two beers that I couldn't finish=nearly one actually consumed) and I wake up at 2am thinking I must be having a heart attack.**

And decide blogging (not *drunk* blogging per se, but very tired yet can't sleep blogging) is the better course of action than, I don't know, calling an ambulance??

I know these chest pains are just my body's way of reminding me that while Hopdevil is delicious, just one will give me heartburn & disrupt my sleep.

And this is why I (typically) don't drink.

Every once in a while, I break form and imbibe just a little bit...inevitably, even a little bit is too much.

Alcohol makes me feel really, really exceptionally shitty.
I don't like feeling this way.
That's why I don't drink.
No big secret, no issues...I just can't handle even a little bit anymore.

This'll be a fun one to revisit in the light of day.
I guess I'll go eat an entire sleeve (roll?) of Tums & read US Weekly because what else is there at 2:41am?

I've been thinking a lot about social drinking and the culture of buzzed/drunk driving...but, that's another post for another (more lucid, less tired) time.
How about you?
How often & how much do you imbibe?
Am I the only one who literally can't handle their liquor (or beer, as it were), the older I get? 
(full disclosure: I am certain my anti-depressant/anti-anxiety meds have something to do with this, which is probably a good thing)


**beer math is much harder than shoe math (no wonder 4th grade homework confounds me)


Completely unrelated, but worth mentioning:
I am such a jerk.
I forgot my best friend's 40th birthday last week & didn't realize my mistake til 3 days too late.

Also, completely unrelated (but, it would be weird to devote an entire post to):
My dad has a girlfriend. 
I get weird looks (sympathetic?) when I tell people about her (when I'm asked how my dad is doing & I'm like, "He's great...he's busy/he's climbing/he has a girlfriend...").
Guys, it's cool.
I'm fine.
I like her...like, genuinely like her.
They clearly make each other very happy and really, what more could I want for my dad?
Seriously...relax.
It's cool. 
Trust me, my mom would not want him to be alone (I think she'd be more pissed about the black wheels and ice climbing sticker on "her" car).

Wow, this post sure went off the rails.
See what I mean???




Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Ask & ye shall receive

This afternoon, I received a message from a mom/friend (meaning, we have hung out once in real life, but our paths cross every day via our local-ish Facebook Mom's Group). Her message urged me to start a blog so she can read it (something very graciously along the lines of my posts are usually so relatable...huge, huge compliment).
I wanted to write back, "Be careful what you wish for," but thought better of it & sheepishly/enthusiastically shot her a link to...this.
I warned her it's been nothing but crickets the past few months.
This year has easily been the most quiet on the blog-front since its humble little inception nearly 8 (EIGHT) years ago.
I wish I could say I've been too busy riding/traveling/wrangling kids/having adventures to write/blog; the truth, conversely, is that I haven't been too busy doing much of anything.
My two year-old purposely took a header/jail break out of her crib a few weeks ago, so we went through the inevitable big-girl-bed transition. 
I can happily report she hasn't yet discovered that her door is unlocked and she could potentially help herself to an entire stick of butter, mommy's variety pack of 24 brand new Sharpies, every roll of toilet paper in the house, or any other manner of off-limits stuff while the rest of her family sleeps.
So, there was that.
What else has been keeping me not busy?
Fourth Grade.
I hate Fourth Grade. Like, hate hate.
Fourth grade can eat a...
Nevermind, that's a little inappropriate.
I hate math homework, I hate wrinkled papers, I hate online assignments when the wi-fi craps out, I hate excuse forms that I forget to fill out, I hate conferences and e-mails about my son's inability to remember his "basic facts," I hate the whole lunch money/cafeteria situation (seriously, where does my cash go? I send him with a FIVE DOLLAR bill for pizza and he comes home like, "Pizza was good, but I owe money")...
Do you know how many pairs of outgrown shoes I yardsaled for that five dollar bill?! (Yardsold? I digress)
So, I'm not a fan of fourth grade.
I was all pumped to be super involved and organized and generally just on it this year, but then my mom had to go and die and RUIN everything...
(Relax...I'm kidding, I'm kidding...I love my mom and miss her every single day and no, I don't blame all my laziness and shortcomings on her untimely death...I mean, come on. Everyone knows I was scatterbrained while she was alive)
And that's about it.
Kid stuff...lots of kid stuff.

That was easy.
There's more.
I'll save it (wink wink).


Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Still here (just not *here*)

I've been drawing a lot more than writing.
My Prismacolors are getting worn down to stubs.
Those bitches are expensive!

Friday, January 30, 2015

Kind of a big deal...

My therapist, Tony, gave me the okay to not come back for the foreseeable future.
At the end of this morning's session, I walked out of the office feeling...
Proud??
Lighter??
(And I think it's worth mentioning that the sun was shining, the sky was blue...a reminder that February is a short month and there will be signs of spring in March)
Not proud because I was given the green light to stop psychotherapy...I guess proud of seeing it through and not giving up this time.
Needless to say, that door is always open should I feel compelled...and that door feels a lot less intimidating than it used to.
For now, I am good.
I am well.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Another Thursday


I'm the laziest laze that ever lazed today...
My little one woke up out of sorts, crying and pointing to her toes, demanding me to "fix it? fix it!" Tears continued and I also had to kiss invisible boo-boos on her forearm about thirty times.
Maybe she's coming down with something, who knows?
I bailed on ride plans, cancelled the sitter, and pretty much followed the little Queen's lead for the entire morning.
Rudolph (Oo-doff) movie again?
Sure.
Paints?
Sure (this time, I cut up a new sponge & let her figure out what to do with that...big hit).
Playdoh?
Okaaaaay (which means I end up making a dozen little bears...and binkies, blankets, beds, pillows, and treats for the bears per the little Queen's requests).
And that's what filled up our morning.
She didn't touch the grilled cheese she asked for (and I wasn't hungry, either)...
We read three books and then she gathered all her very specific nap gear and toddled into her room.
I love this age...she's stringing more and more words together, expressing opinions (what she does or doesn't want to wear), playing independently in her own little world (or, conversely, playing imaginatively with her big brother).
I think all this action wears us both out sometimes.
After I tucked her in, I sacked out on the couch and slept soundly for two (TWO!)
solid hours.
Upon waking, I decided to continue my lazing & proceeded to eat my first bag of Cadbury mini eggs of the season.
(Easter candy on the shelves before Valentine's Day? Why?)
That's been my Thursday...that's it, that's all.
Some days are super-productive and even I'm impressed with how smoothly everything went/how much I accomplished/how awesome the pizza dough turned out/how great that workout felt blah blah blah blah...
Not this Thursday, though.
I might not even set foot outside my house (but, I will take a shower...eventually).
Some days (few and far between, but still...), I truly, unapologetically, laze.



Thursday, January 22, 2015

"You just gotta keep livin, man. L-I-V-I-N..."

Last week I was in a major major funk...
Like break down and cry and then cry some more and then keep crying and crying funk.
Tissues balled up, heaving sobs...poor, hapless husband out of ideas, yet not for lack of trying (man, I lucked out with him).
I missed my mom.
I missed my mom like a big baby.
My dad was away and I was having a very feeling-sorry-for-myself moment (a moment that lasted about 48 hours, if we're counting)...I was in full-on wallow mode and there was no getting around or out of it.
I really really really missed my mom.
I mean, I miss her all the time, but I'm not consumed by it.
Last week, I think it's safe to say I was a bit consumed by it.
The things I miss most about my mom lately:
Just her voice and laugh...duh.
Counting on her to just simply hang out with me during the most basic or mundane of tasks..."Mom, I'm cleaning my laundry room/running to Target/raking leaves/grocery shopping/baking banana bread, want to keep me company?" and more times than not, she'd not only be up for it, she'd make it fun.
Asking her for advice...whenever I'm on the verge of a huge parenting fail, I miss calling my mom for guidance/reassurance/a reality check ("Kimberly, Kimberly, Kimberly...")
Again, I find it's the little things lately...

I went to the cemetery after the snow a few weeks ago and drew silly doodles and notes with a stick all around her site. I don't know what else to do sometimes, you know?
Sometimes, I'm there and I talk out loud.
Sometimes, I'm just sitting there, completely zoned out and thinking of everything but my mom.

Anyway, the day after my most recent meltdown, I stumbled upon Dazed & Confused on IFC after the kids were in bed...right from the opening credits.
Twenty-two years ago, my mom and I saw it in the movie theater together the night it premiered.
We may have giddily pre-gamed in the parking lot (discreetly) in keeping with the errrrr, spirit of the movie.
It was an awesome, albeit ordinary, night out with my mom.
So, I watched it again and felt better when it was over (without any herbal enhancements, I might add).
While I don't think I'd chalk that one up to divine intervention, I can't completely discount that notion.

And, hey, it's a f*cking great movie...I don't care what you say.