I’m home from my night at Bunko, and I feel so strange. You’ll have to forgive this post, I am sure it will be very disjointed and weird. I know I’m not the best writer on the best of days, so when I get all introspective and self-examining, it’s more like I just have to vomit the thoughts running through my head onto the page so that they’re out there to pick and sift through and maybe get to the bottom of my weird neuroses.

I actually came home, wandered through the house, climbed into bed and lay there for 15 minutes before getting up and coming into my office to write this. I kept composing this entry in my head and finally I could tell I wasn’t going to sleep until I purged it out of my head by actually writing.

Of course now that I’m here I don’t know what to write.

I sailed home from work in fine spirits, picked up Ethan, we stopped at Lowes, then called up James and we all met up at IHOP for an impromptu dinner out with the family. It was nice. We only take the kids to a few restaurants, and pancakes are always good to go.

As my bunko night approached though, my spirits kind of seemed to fade, though I’m not really sure why. I walked over with a couple of my neighbors, and as other women in the neighborhood arrived and we all stood around drinking and chatting and catching up, I just felt more and more isolated. I don’t really understand why. I stood there listening, and tears began welling up in my eyes that I couldn’t explain, I just didn’t understand what I was feeling and why. I feel so disconnected from these women, but there was no real reason for it. I think a part of me was jealous for some reason, but it was hard to even put my finger on that. I had to excuse myself to find the bathroom and get a grip on whatever weirdness was possessing me. I stared into the mirror, not particularly liking what I saw, splashed water on my face and went back out.

The women in my neighborhood are great. It’s not like I cannot relate to them, because I do. Some work, some stay home, we all live in one of three different model houses in our development, so there is a lot of exclaiming about what one person did with THAT room and oh gee, I never would have thought to put the couch there, etc. All except one woman has children, I think they’re all even under the age of 10, with maybe one exception. More than half of us have small children, and two of the ladies are pregnant and due in the spring.

I’m not sure what to write now. Just keep writing, just keep typing in letters and words and something else will come. It will come.

Sometimes I feel unable to do anything. For example, the things I might do in the house when I am all by myself, is totally different than what I would do if James is in the house. It’s totally different than what I would do if I was home with the kids by myself, or if James is in the house. Last weekend, James took Ethan with him on a trip to Whole Foods and he kept puttering around the house doing things and just wouldn’t get out the door. For some reason I had to have them gone before I could do the things I wanted to do, cleaning up the kitchen and family room, etc. I’m writing this and I can hear how totally crazy this sounds, but it doesn’t happen very often.

Sometimes I think my mental health is hinged on my hormone levels. At one time years ago, I used Depo Provera for birth control and it wasn’t until I went off it did I realize that it made me totally crazy. I would have some dramatic emotional breakdown every few weeks, and this stifling, can’t-do-what-i-want-to-do-if-someone’s-in-the-house thing was huge. I would relish a few hours alone in our duplex (where we lived at the time, pre-children) and the things I would do would range to just reading a book, cleaning the apartment or some part of it, or just watching tv of fooling around on the computer.

Do I view myself through James’ eyes in my head? Is that it? Is that why I could only do certain things, maybe what I thought he wanted me to do, or what I thought I should do when he was there, and when he wasn’t, I was free to do what I really wanted to do? Am I viewing myself through other peoples eyes? James is just the most obvious example. I really am asking here. I have no answers.

In that kitchen tonight I felt a weird jealousy. I’ve felt it in the past.. I’m jealous that I can’t seem to find a close friend among my neighbors. It would be nice to have a girlfriend who is close by. In fact, I think that is why I love this webspace so much. It’s like confiding in a very close, dear friend, and I feel like I’m missing that in my life. When I think about it, I don’t think I’ve actually had a close girlfriend since I lived with my old college roomate in Atlanta. That was over ten years ago. I have friends, but we have kids, they don’t. We live out in the sticks, they don’t. We still talk, but not extremely regularly. I don’t think I’ve actually had a super close friend from this stage of my life. Adulthood? Womanhood? Married with children but still doesn’t feel like a grown-up-hood? Maybe I feel like I don’t know how. I think insecure could describe my feelings standing in that kitchen tonight, though I generally consider myself a very secure person. It felt lonely, and it was strange.

This stifling thing is not so overbearing that I can’t overcome it. And I did, tonight. I forced myself to start talking and listening and joining in, and soon it faded away, and I was happy. I had fun tonight. I laughed and drank and told silly stories and commiserated about houses and jobs and kids and husbands. But when I walked home, I felt overcome once again. Again, I just don’t understand why. I think a part of it is that I always feel as if I’m walking into the perfect home. Perfectly clean, perfectly decorated, perfect food, perfect furniture, and I always feel as if my home is anything but. And then it goes back to that stifling frozen I can’t do anything feeling.. even though I know I can. And I also know that our hostess probably cleaned her ass off all day preparing for tonight, and that no one is perfect.

I went back to work at the beginning of last fall (2005), but before that I stayed home with my kids since my oldest was 7 months old. He is 3 1/2 now. At the end of the summer, I think it’s safe to say I was in a serious funk. Depression? It’s a clinical term, and I don’t know if I could safely use it for me because honestly, I’m not sure exactly what it entails. I was definitely depressed in the way that it is used everyday, nonclinically. I was definitely not happy. Not happy with my life, not happy with how I felt waking up each day, not happy with the feelings of isolation. Not happy. Not happy to the point where I discussed with James that maybe I should talk to a doctor. Going back to work was a necessity, financially, but it also relieved so many of those feelings. Just the excitement of getting up with purpose and going somewhere with adults to converse with and accomplishing tasks throughout the day and knowing I do GOOD work helped me immensely. Maybe it is because that excitement of being back at work is fading away now that some of these “not happy” feelings are returning to me.

It’s 1:30 in the morning, and I can’t help feeling all overwrought and emotional and weird and I can’t even really explain why. It’s time to splash water on my face, get a grip and get over it. Writing this has been a big help, but I don’t know if I will post it. It’s definitely the furthest into personal-land that I’ve ever gone in this web space. I definitely don’t mind strangers reading it (I mean, hello, they’re strangers, what do I care?) but I’m not sure how I feel about my friends reading it. I know they will sympathize, even comfort me, and I’m not sure I even want that. This is just my rambling to help rid me of the feelings, and while I could probably stand, even welcome some commiserating, if they feel that way, I don’t know if I could take anything more. If I do post this, and if I actually know you, let’s just pretend you didn’t read it, ok? Ok. I’ll probably change my mind on this.. you know, TOMORROW, but for now it’s just too close to home.
I’m posting this. I’m not even reading it through before I do so, like I usually do. It’s going up, and I’m going to bed, and tomorrow, I think I’ll be glad I did.

And if I’m not, then it probably won’t be here for you to read.

So, there has been an odd smell floating around our living room for a while now. For a while I thought there was an old, wet diaper hiding somewhere, like under the couch. Close inspection proved that to be wrong.

Then I decided it wasn’t a “diaper” smell, just a “old wet” smell. I disassembled our cool mist humidifier, pitched the filter thinking it was mildewy, and emptied out the base. Still, the smell hovered.

Usually, I’m the one to complain of weird smells. I inherited my mother’s keen sense of smell, who can sniff out ANYTHING as if it were a wet St. Bernard. But even James’s nose was with me on this weird wet smell. I started to worry about leaking pipes in the walls, but there aren’t any water pipes where the smell was eminating. Maybe the outside hose spigot? Nope, it was closer to the front door.

Finally, last night we figured it out. PLANTS!!! In the fall, I took cuttings from the impatiens in my garden cultivated them in pots indoors. I’ve also forced quite a few bulbs (which are really doing spectacularly). I’ve taken pictures, but haven’t gotten them off the camera yet (maybe I’ll have to do that before posting this post). Anyway, one of the forcing methods I tried out was using those glass marble things that you use in floral arrangements, stuffing a bulb or two down in them, and then adding water juuuuuust to the tippy rooty bottom of the bulb. I had 2 glasses done up this way. They were not doing nearly as well as the ones I had planted in actual pots. With dirt. Anyway, I had actually THOUGHT maybe it was these bulbs, but when I stuck my nose in there, I could NOT SMELL THE SMELL! So I figured it wasn’t that, and moved on.

But it WAS THE BULBS! AND NOT JUST THEM! I beleive I have over-watered my potted impatiens and they have developed root rot. First, last night, in an effort to determine whether or not it WAS the plant items that had the smell, we moved them from the windows in the family room to the top of the fridge (this was to prevent forest fires kitty damage). It become evident that it was definitely the plants, as minutes after they were moved, the smell was in the kitchen!

So I took the bulbs out of the marbles/beady/glass/water thingee and oh boy did it stink. Rinsed out the marbles well, though I see a bath in cloroxy water in their future. This morning, I thought, “hey, I’m going to take some of these into my office!” and picked out an impatiens pot that I had stuck some tulip bulbs in as well.

All day long, that nasty wet ROTTING ROOTS smell has been plaguing me. We all already know that my delicate little nose can’t seem to take any instrusive smells, and now after smelling this damn plant all day, my nose is all stuffed up and red from the constant blowing. I even relegated the plant to the top of my little hutch/shelves thingee on my desk, but the web diaper smell drifts down anyway.

So I spent some time at lunch looking up root rot and proper soil and watering techniques and tonight when I go home, I shall re-pot my plants using proper potting soil (I think most of what I used was just from the ground outside, a big no-no) that has been pasteurized (Pasteurization! Not Just For Dairy!) in clean, sterilized containers and hopefully my plants will be happy and healthy and the nasty wet-smell will GO AWAY BECAUSE I JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

Seriously. At least James could smell it this time. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m going crazy with the things I smell and rant about only to hear him say, “What? I don’t smell anything.” *honks as he inhales* “What? There isn’t any smell.” Grrrr.

It could be worse.

OR EVEN WORSE!

OK, I’ll stop with the links, lest I get all mimi smartypants on your ass.

AHHH! I LINKED AGAIN!

Ok, done now.

So, while I’m talking about plants, one of the handy things I did when I was home with Jocelyn in all her sickness, was put up a shelf in her closet. However, I didn’t have enough brackets that the back of the bracket packet called for so that called for a trip to Lowes.

Well.. RIGHT in front of the entrance… was a beautiful standup of SEEDS. My eyes glazed over, my tongue started hanging out, the drool machine started that would put any teething 4 month old to shame. Jocelyn, Ethan and I had such fun picking out some seeds to plant that now I just can’t wait until I can GET GOING! I have grand plans for the garden this year. We bought some green bean, cherry tomato, rosemary, and BROCOLI seeds! On arriving home, I discovered that I already had rosemary, what I need is SAGE! My basil seeds have also gone AWOL, so I need some of those as well. I also bought two pots designed to be the final living space for the herbs – I’ll start them out in smaller thingees* though.

* I’m still learning all this farmer of the earth lingo. You knew what I meant.

The outside is going to be fun, though I need to figure out what is going to go where. We have a deck now and that means I can put in some more beds, which means some grass is going to need to come up, and some soil is going to need amending, and aerating, and some plants in front need to be moved in back and I have to decide where to put the vegetables and where to put the flowers and I want to get a raspberry bush too, because won’t the jam be oh so yummy? and I sure would like a rototiller but that’s probably overkill but OH I JUST CAN’T WAIT!

Luckily, I don’t have to wait until spring, I can start indoors with my little seeds in flats.

As long as I don’t overwater them and use the right media*!

* Look. I used the term “media.” Bet you were impressed. Really, that just means whatever it’s growing in. Me learn gooooood.

It is going to be busy this weekend. I have Bunko tonight, a date with my husband Saturday night, with just the two of us, and poker with this guy and some of his work buddies on Sunday.

SHOE MONEY TO-NIGHT! (or, ahem.. sunday night)

– amy lines up angels on a head of a pin

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Thank you!

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When I was a teenager, I had very specific fashion ideas. Anything My Mother Would Not Like. This mostly included cut-off jeans (even if they were long, I cut off the cuffs at the bottom (I liked fraying), and more often bleached weird designs on them) t-shirts and pointy shoes.

As I grew up (HA! I’m grown up? HAHA!) I loved the jobs that allowed me to wear jeans and t-shirts.

I am currently at a job where I have to look nice and can wear jeans on fridays. I don’t mind it, actually, though there are days when the second thing I say (the first is always, “JOCELYN JOCELYN!” in reply to her “MOMMY MOMMY!”) is “I’m going upstairs to replace these clothing items with pajamas.”

So I get up and try to assemble an outfit that looks reasonable nice at 6:30 in the morning, and some days I get it ok, and other days I look at myself at noon and wonder, “What was I smoking?” And then other days I look at myself and just wonder why I wasn’t blessed with the fashion gene. Mostly it’s the stockings and shoes that mystify me. I look at the blouse and the skirt and think, “that’s ok” and then I wonder if the black tights work ok. Can you wear black tights* and black shoes with everything? How about white tights? When do you wear one color and not the other and vice versa? For some reason I always think the black tights looks odd, but the off-white looks good. And then I wonder if there’s some strange rule about not wearing off-white tights after labor day or something and I just long for warmer days so I can make sure my legs are shaved and not bother with tights.

Today is a tights-wondering day, as well as an outfit wondering day. Does this sage-green shirt really look all right with my plum-maroony skirt? Will someone just come to my house every morning and dress me? Because I don’t think I trust my judgement. I’ve seen my house.

* I don’t like the word “nylons” and I especially abhor the term “hose” or “panty hose” *SHUDDER* so please assume that my use of the word “tights” encompasses all things sock/stocking-like that goes on your legs. While we’re discussing the words used for articles of clothing, let me also go on the record on the use of the word “panties” Unless you’re under age eight, there’s no need to call them this. They are underwear, people.

I’ll leave you with a short but Cute Ethan Episode story. It was Tuesday and as soon as I picked him up from school, he was talking talking talking and Would! Not! Stop! with the strange questions.

“Are we going by the towers?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Why?”
“Because this is the way home.”
“But I want to go straight.”
“Well, we have to turn honey, to get home.”
“Why?”
“I already told you why, Ethan.”
“Let’s go straight. We can turn around, mommy.”
“Yes, we could, but not today. We’re going this way today.”
“Why?”

– and thus, the token parental phrase jumped to my tongue.. Even as I said it, I did not want to say it. It was an internal battle: exhaustion and the uselessness of this discussion vs. the desire to not squash my child’s spirit.. Sad to say, the exhaustion won..

“Because I said so.”

It’s always WHY WHY WHY ALL THE FREAKIN’ time. I don’t mind, usually, but even when I don’t, it is fairly exhausting. Who would have thought that just talking can be exhausting? It is, though. Just before we were turning into our neighborhood, he had a lapse of quiet, just listening to the cd that was playing, and I yawned a huge, jaw-dislocating yawn, and then he yawned as well.

*mommy yawns.*
*ethan yawns.*
ethan: “I look tired, mommy.”
me: “Yeah. I look tired too.”

Jocelyn is doing much better. However, her home daycare lady’s daughter is suspected of having chicken pox. Jocelyn received an immunization for the chicken pox (doesn’t that seem vaguely wrong? Isn’t everyone supposed to have to go through this at some point as part of the childhood experience?) and even a phone call to her doctor confirmed that she can go ahead to daycare, but unfortunately, daycare lady decided to close daycare for today and tomorrow. It’s something we knew going in, that if we go with a home daycare, that this sort of thing can happen. I’ve already used up all the comp/admin time I have, and James stayed home with her yesterday, so it kind of sucks. James is scrambling to see if he can line something up for her tomorrow. I hate the idea of her going to a strange place all day with people she doesn’t know. I know she will be miserable, but what can you do? Ugh.

Jocelyn is very adamant about what she wants, and does not want. If I offer her something she doesn’t want, she will start hollering, “NO! NO! NO!” until I say to her, “just say, ‘No thank you!'” and she stops, and says, “doedankuum!” and trots off happily. Tantrum averted. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but everything is also, “Awesome. Mommy. Awesome.”

Off to work.

– amy looks tired in her mismatched outfit with wrong colored tights.

I feel all stifled and squished, even though I’m out of work clothes (sometimes very stifling) and in pajamas (comfiest clothing ever) and pink fuzzy slippers. I can feel my health slipping out the back door into an alley.. And on the way out, letting in a large heavily muscled thug carrying a club with the label “unending misery and pain” on it just waiting for the perfect moment to sneak up and bash me upside the head with it. I am going to attempt to reason with the thug of misery by brushing my teeth thoroughly, gargling with salt water, drinking lots of nyquil and crashing to bed very early tonight. However, by the simple of merit of thugs being thugs, they rarely listen to reasoning. If there’s a club of misery with my name on it, I’m not sure I can dodge it at this point. I guess we’ll see.

What is worse, is that I’m not the first victim Mr. Thug With Club Of Misery has staked out. The first was Jocelyn, the poor little dear. This weekend, holiday though it was, has been pretty hellish for everyone involved. Me and James, dealing with the sick girl, Ethan, being healthy and fine and without parental attention whatsoever because we were so focused on Jocelyn, and Jocelyn herself, sicker than I have ever seen her. Is that a true statement?? I can vaguely remember another bout that was very very bad when she was an infant that may be tied or a close second, but no way it beats this time.

Friday, James picked up Jocelyn from her home daycare, and her provider told James that she has been pretty sick all day, runny runny nose, cough, etc. Sure enough, she seemed pretty bad that evening and the next morning, that I took her to the doctor. While listening to her lungs, she said she heard a slight crackle, which can mean pneumonia. A trip to Target later, and Jocelyn was started on antibiotics. Saturday, she was sick, but it was Sunday that was really pretty scary. Not that Saturday night was any picnic. She could not breathe through her nose AT ALL, and she is a thumb sucker — I’m sure you can see where this would leave her, you’re a smart audience. She was so miserable. She would cough every 15 seconds and then cry, one long pitiful plaintive moaning cry of anguish. James would rock her and put her back in her bed and eventually she would start crying again and I’d take a turn. Finally, I just took her into the guest room, propped myself up with pillows on the guest bed, and held her. She didn’t sleep, but she was able to get some comfort from her momma. I eventually laid her down next to me (thank goodness the bed is pushed up against the wall) and we both slept that way for a while. Every time she would cough, I would rub her back to let her know I was there. I put her back in her crib around 2am and went back to my own bed to try to get in some rest.

Sunday was worse. She started running a fever, and started breathing much heavier and faster, like a panting dog. Her poor little body wheezed out coughs, it seemed constantly. I called the doctor to see how worried we really should be and was told that if she still was having so much trouble breathing after the fever was brought down, then we should consider taking her to the hospital. James let me nap that afternoon and it was niiiiiice. I never nap. Maybe I should investigate it further as a pastime, because I woke up feeling so refreshed (even though I’d slept with bra on and contacts in, yuck, yuck). Sunday night, she did a little better at bedtime, with James going in and rocking her every now and then, until around midnight, when she started wailing. When I went in, she had a high fever and I could see she had the chills, her entire body was trembling. She was so worked up that she kept fighting everything I’d do, she didn’t want medicine, she didn’t want Vicks on her chest, she REALLY didn’t want saline drops in her nose, she didn’t want ANYTHING, not even me to hold her. Apparently, her life wouldn’t be complete until I put her down, left the room and let her scream on the floor to her heart’s content. Luckily, once I took her out of her room and into the guest bedroom, she calmed down and snuggled up to me with a right good will. It was a little scary, her fever being so high, but Motrin brought it down and soon she was sleeping next to me. After a few hours, dozing now and then, her skin felt normal to the touch and I returned her to her bed and went back to mine.

Monday was much better. I am SO thankful that we took her to the doctor on Saturday and that she got started on the antibiotics right away. The possibility of it getting worse than it was on Sunday was really scary. But by monday, the breathing was much improved, still kind of wheezing, but not panting like a dog with her whole huge baby-tummy sticking out and her ribcage pulling in with each and every breath. Today (Tuesday) I went to work and James stayed home with her. She had an appointment with her doctor who made the appointment Saturday to check her progress (have I told you how much I love our pediatrician?? she’s wonderful. I’m building a temple to her greatness) and gave her another prescription to help the cough that sounds like she’s been smoking for 20 years. Fevers have been minimal today and we think she may be able to go back to daycare tomorrow. Her doctor said she could as long as her temperature stays normal, but there’s the whole misery quotient to take into account as well. Her nose wasn’t running nearly as much today, so hopefully it will be even better tomorrow, as well as the cough.

So, while she is on the mend, I can sense the same thug that thwacked her upside the immune system is waiting around the corner for me. The stress of caring for her and worrying for her all weekend have taken some part in it, I’m sure. Plus I went into DC today and walked around in the semi-coldness, which usually doesn’t hurt anyone, but I think everything kind of conspired to weaken my immune system which of course just screams an invitation to the Thug. Hopefully I can outsmart him with lots of sleep, lots of water tomorrow, and no salt. Why is it that salt always seems to progress any imminent illness for me? Is that just me or does anyone else have that too? I think it’s the whole water thing – salt dehydrates you and I guess sickness likes dried out husks of bodies to plunder. I never feel thirsty, but after drinking a zillion ounces of water on weight watchers, I can tell now when I haven’t been drinking enough. When I drink plenty, my lips never get chapped. My lips right now are like dry twigs with the bark peeling off. Better start downing the water.

And then Nyquil.

Happy dreams.. wish me luck against the Thug..

1 butternut squash, about 1 1/2 pounds – cooked and cubed into 1/2 inch cubes
2 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1 1/2 cups uncooked U.S. arborio or medium grain rice
1 tablespoon chopped fresh sage
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
4 1/2 cups chicken broth
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmegianno Reggiano cheese

1. Melt butter in large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onion; cook until onion begins to brown, about 4 to 5 minutes. Add rice and sage; stir 1 to 2 minutes. Add nutmeg, cayenne pepper, squash and broth. Cover and cook 10 minutes. Stir; reduce heat to medium-low, cover and cook until rice is tender and mixture has a creamy consistency, about 10 to 12 minutes.
2. Remove from heat; stir in cheese. Serve immediately.

Makes 6 servings.

So I am now finished with entering all the old posts that I could find. I was fairly cool with not having EVERY SINGLE POST, until I went looking through the email notifications I had saved from when someone comments.

My friend Chris posted, “you made me smile 🙂 you should totally make sure you keep these kids stories stored someplace that you’ll have for a long time – imagine jocelyn’s horror when you trot out this one when you meet her first boyfriend.”

The post title that he commented on was, “Those crazy kids..” many searching on many search engines didn’t turn anything up.

This is just one of around 25 posts that are AWOL. I have no idea what cute story I posted about Jocelyn that I should trot out when her first boyfriend arrives.

You know, when this all happened, I was pretty blase about it.. but now I know that there are around 25 posts, documentation of my life, my kids’ life, that are gone, and I won’t get them back, and I don’t even know what they are, what I wrote about.

It’s not as if it was all for naught. Sometimes I write when something is pressing on me and I just have to write it out in my horrid run-on sentences and non-capitalizing blather and in so doing, I can help prop up the rock of depression long enough for me to clamber out from underneath. That’s something. I don’t want to belittle that. Even if they are gone now, writing those posts helped me at the time. Just like writing this is helping me now.

Let’s be honest, this IS me we’re talking about so half of them could have been stupid IM message logs between me and james, or a couple quoting random tv shows in an effort to get my friend Greg to add them to his Netflix queue (except that I actually have both of those) or *ahem* even my grocery list, or me reporting how yummy Perfect Pita is..

But at least one of them was a cute story about my daughter. And I have no idea what it was.

WOO TO THE FUCKING HOO!!!

GO LETA GO!

Isn’t it odd how someone can be totally caught up in a complete stranger’s life? I guess it isn’t really that strange. Even though Heather & co. don’t know me, I know them. I can so totally relate, having the whole mormon heritage thing going for me, and when I read about Leta’s progress this morning, I felt that so-happy-I-might-cry feeling that I get from looking at my own spawn.

It’s a busy busy day today, and I’m feeling good. I have new sexy underwear on, and it’s doing the trick! The end of the day can’t come too soon. I know I’ve been all mopey and not writing, cause of the having to enter in old lost posts, but the light at the end of the tunnel is near and then I will be bombarding the internet with many many more words.

– amy dances to the beat of the drum

got some more entries entered, got my theme installed. Tweaked it up a bit. I need some sleep, because I can feel my self worth start to plummet. No one wants to go fishing around for their self-worth, especially at this hour of the night, so I’d better get to bed.

It’ll be nice when things get back to normal.

wheeee.