thankfully, the olympics are over. now i can get some sleep.
Punkin is on his eighth day of treatment for removal of his planet blister. Peanut is getting her eleventh tooth (molar, lower left side). el Jefe' went into work Sunday morning, much to my dismay. i am making my second day trip in six days down South tomorrow, again, much to my dismay.
when el Jefe' accepted his promotion to the North nearly a year and a half ago, he was told his travel between North and South would be limited to three trips a month. that was a myth. he makes one trip at least once a week, typically two, and sometimes three days a week. he stays overnight at least once a month. i am not happy about his travel demands, especially because it is so much more than we bargained for. he gets on the State plane maybe once a week, so the frequent flyer trips are really adding up. he qualified for a companion pass last year, and there is no doubt in my mind he will qualify again for one again this year. we've used it once, and are accumulating "free" roundtrip tickets at a rate such that we both have ones that will expire and go unused. we don't have any vacation plans on the near horizon and we're too tired for a "weekend getaway" and with all this travel during the week, he has succumbed to putting in extra time on the weekends in an attempt to keep up with his normal workload, so we couldn't go anywhere anyway if we wanted to.
as i am making my second day trip in six days down South tomorrow, i understand why. even if you put in an eight-hour day and add the flying time as "over time" (completely unpaid in my case) and you throw in the airport waiting time out of the goodness of you heart, you end up behind. you kill more than a day. i don't care if you are on your cell phone the entire time, or you're on your laptop the entire time (within the acceptable limits allowed by FAA regulations, of course), you enter into this time warp that sucks the productivity out of your very soul.
speaking of sucking, that is how i feel about having a midwestern work ethic. if it is not apparent, el Jefe' has it, too. it takes away from our time together, the time with our kids, the time for play, and the time for relaxation (whatever that is).
it's not worth it.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
my brave Punkin
Punkin had a Planters wart removed today, or "planet blister" as he called it. we noticed it several weeks ago, before his weekly class theme was about planets and space, so i don't know where that connection in terminology came from. i convinced el Jefe' we should at least call the pediatrician before trying over-the-counter caustic chemicals on our three-year-old's foot, and i delegated this responsibility to el Jefe' because appointment scheduling can be such a pain in the ass. after Punkin reminded el Jefe' several times (nagging is much more acceptable from a three-year-old), the appointment was made.
this was only the second time Punkin has been to our Northern pediatrician. the first was for his three-year well-check, which normally does not require shots, but they just happened to have flu vaccines available. i asked Punkin if he wanted a flu shot, and much to my surprise he responded "sure." he got the shot in his leg without a single wimper or tear. he liked the stickers, but wasn't over-enthusiastic about them. he did equate going to the doctor with "getting a shot in your knee" but this was said matter-of-factly, completely without fear. when Peanut has had to go to the pediatrician for thrush or a viral rash, Punkin assumed that she would get a shot in her knee. that's just what they do.
so phase one of the planet blister removal entailed the dreaded freezing/burning process which is far less than pleasant to an adult, much less a three-year-old. el Jefe' was very proud to report that again, Punkin didn't wimper or cry. he said it hurt, and accepted the bounty of stickers the amazed staff bestowed upon him. he wanted to share his stickers with his friends at school. el Jefe' let him pick out a treat afterwards, and surprisingly he picked Starbursts, and only ate two on his way back to school.
i am so proud.
this was only the second time Punkin has been to our Northern pediatrician. the first was for his three-year well-check, which normally does not require shots, but they just happened to have flu vaccines available. i asked Punkin if he wanted a flu shot, and much to my surprise he responded "sure." he got the shot in his leg without a single wimper or tear. he liked the stickers, but wasn't over-enthusiastic about them. he did equate going to the doctor with "getting a shot in your knee" but this was said matter-of-factly, completely without fear. when Peanut has had to go to the pediatrician for thrush or a viral rash, Punkin assumed that she would get a shot in her knee. that's just what they do.
so phase one of the planet blister removal entailed the dreaded freezing/burning process which is far less than pleasant to an adult, much less a three-year-old. el Jefe' was very proud to report that again, Punkin didn't wimper or cry. he said it hurt, and accepted the bounty of stickers the amazed staff bestowed upon him. he wanted to share his stickers with his friends at school. el Jefe' let him pick out a treat afterwards, and surprisingly he picked Starbursts, and only ate two on his way back to school.
i am so proud.
Monday, August 18, 2008
pondering passion, not potential
it occurred to me this past weekend that all these Olympians have parents, and somewhere down the line (sometimes as young as the age of three) someone identified a talent. huge sacrifices were made by these parents (or parent), whether for lessons, or coaches, or uniforms, or camps, or travel to competitions, or just being able to raise your kid.
i pay six bucks for a half-hour swimming lesson. it’s not that i want or expect my kids to become the next Michael Phelps or Natalie Coughlin; i merely want them to know how to swim for their own safety. i enjoy the feel of water against my skin (i’m a Pisces, ya know), of silently floating, and the rare times i feel as though i am gliding through the pool. i hope my kids enjoy that same simple pleasure. at the very least, i don’t want them to fear the water.
for Punkin, i cough up a little over eight bucks for 30 minutes on the Tumblebus. this was my gift to him for his third birthday. he wanted to do it mainly because his friends were doing it; they’re like a little cult, donning their special t-shirts on Wednesdays. sometimes it is the only motivation to get him to school (Punkin as well as me to get there on time). Punkin’s enthusiasm for the Tumblebus has diminished over the summer, perhaps because it is summer and enrollment is constantly changing. i’m not expecting a Paul or Morgan Hamm to emerge from the 80’s era school bus.
but how do you know?
not that they are good enough. not that they have Olympic potential. not that the time and money invested is worth it.
how do you know they love it?
i pay six bucks for a half-hour swimming lesson. it’s not that i want or expect my kids to become the next Michael Phelps or Natalie Coughlin; i merely want them to know how to swim for their own safety. i enjoy the feel of water against my skin (i’m a Pisces, ya know), of silently floating, and the rare times i feel as though i am gliding through the pool. i hope my kids enjoy that same simple pleasure. at the very least, i don’t want them to fear the water.
for Punkin, i cough up a little over eight bucks for 30 minutes on the Tumblebus. this was my gift to him for his third birthday. he wanted to do it mainly because his friends were doing it; they’re like a little cult, donning their special t-shirts on Wednesdays. sometimes it is the only motivation to get him to school (Punkin as well as me to get there on time). Punkin’s enthusiasm for the Tumblebus has diminished over the summer, perhaps because it is summer and enrollment is constantly changing. i’m not expecting a Paul or Morgan Hamm to emerge from the 80’s era school bus.
but how do you know?
not that they are good enough. not that they have Olympic potential. not that the time and money invested is worth it.
how do you know they love it?
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
obsession
i am obsessed with the olympics. my obsession is focused: primarily swimming, but i'll watch women's beach volleyball (not impressed with Dallhauser ...) and gymnastics, and track and field is yet to come. i stay up and watch live events on network television. i have seen countless commercials since Sunday ... thank God i have had a Coke in the past 80 years, and i primarily use my Visa Card, and the Home Depot athletes are inspiring, and all McDonalds serves is all white meat chicken, and John McCain advertises way more than Barack Obama.
i am grateful it is only every four years.
no, not two; the winter games are not nearly as consuming.
i am grateful it is only every four years.
no, not two; the winter games are not nearly as consuming.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
it's baaaack
so much for a good thing.
i didn't ride today. i debated this morning, and came up with excuses (Punkin's field trip and a grocery store run and need to go to the bank), and went back to bed. i'd love to say a got an additional blissful 30 minutes of sleep, but really i just laid there and procrastinated starting my day.
i made it through the deep depressing PMS days, so much so that it came as a surprise. maybe it was early. maybe it was affected by my new meds. i don't keep track anymore. i can't handle another child. i'm having a hard enough time with two.
i feel like i hit the wall yesterday. perhaps it was due to lack of sleep because i am obsessed with watching the Olympics. perhaps it was due to frustration with my father. perhaps it was due to stress from el Jefe' being out of town over night.
it is lingering. i feel like i need more meds.
i didn't ride today. i debated this morning, and came up with excuses (Punkin's field trip and a grocery store run and need to go to the bank), and went back to bed. i'd love to say a got an additional blissful 30 minutes of sleep, but really i just laid there and procrastinated starting my day.
i made it through the deep depressing PMS days, so much so that it came as a surprise. maybe it was early. maybe it was affected by my new meds. i don't keep track anymore. i can't handle another child. i'm having a hard enough time with two.
i feel like i hit the wall yesterday. perhaps it was due to lack of sleep because i am obsessed with watching the Olympics. perhaps it was due to frustration with my father. perhaps it was due to stress from el Jefe' being out of town over night.
it is lingering. i feel like i need more meds.
Monday, August 11, 2008
make my toast dry
i’m having issues with my father, specifically with regard to his interaction with Punkin. i was going to say “conversations”, but really what kind of conversation can an 83-year-old man have with a 3-and-a-half-year-old boy when the 83-year-old-man is irrational?
i first became aware of the issue when my parents were visiting to celebrate Peanut’s first birthday. Peanut is their only granddaughter; Punkin is their fourth grandson. Punkin and Paw Paw were outside and Punkin wouldn’t listen to some command or instruction. Paw Paw labeled my son “bad” and spent several hours pouting and ignoring my son. eventually i told my father, Paw Paw, that his job was to give my son unconditional love. it was a strained, difficult weekend, so i wrote it off as a symptom.
the last weekend of July and the first weekend in August, my parents spent both weekends visiting us; we’ve become a wayside for their timeshare adventures (because my father insists on driving everywhere). the first weekend was my mother’s birthday, so most of the attention was focused on her (and they stayed with us merely Friday and Saturday nights). the second weekend they arrived on Friday night and did not leave until Monday morning. my mother was sick, hacking, eventually diagnosed very close to having pneumonia. my father arrived with a belly ache which lasted a day or two. neither weekend was a rip-roaring time, but then again they never are, but i do not recall any specific incident between Punkin and Paw Paw.
as my parents were preparing to leave, they were doting on Peanut. Paw Paw was ignoring Punkin. Punkin pee’d in the corner of the living room. i didn’t make a big deal and got him cleaned up without a bunch of fuss, which is nothing short of a miracle for me … thank God for meds. as we were saying our goodbyes, Punkin wouldn’t give Paw Paw a hug and a kiss goodbye. i wasn’t about to force him to do it. Punkin did insist on waving goodbye as they left. and my father’s parting words to Punkin: “eventually you will realize what side your bread is buttered on.” needless to say this meant nothing to Punkin.
i wrote it off to another strained, difficult set of weekends.
one week later, i’m on the phone with my parents for the weekly obligatory phone call. my father’s opening words to me: “you tell your son he needs to learn what side his bread is buttered on.” my response: “he’s three and a half, and i will not have this conversation with you. we all love you. goodbye.”
my father’s messages have fucked me up for a lifetime and left me with low self esteem. fine. whatever. although he is ignorant of the pain he has caused me, i love him. atleast i know where the negative voices in my head come from. but i will not let him hurt my son. Punkin loves his Paw Paw, and asks when he will see him next. i don’t know what to say. i don’t want to expose my son to that for one second. i don’t care about gifts or an inheritance. my son deserves nothing less than the unconditional love i didn’t get, as it was obviously conditional.
i first became aware of the issue when my parents were visiting to celebrate Peanut’s first birthday. Peanut is their only granddaughter; Punkin is their fourth grandson. Punkin and Paw Paw were outside and Punkin wouldn’t listen to some command or instruction. Paw Paw labeled my son “bad” and spent several hours pouting and ignoring my son. eventually i told my father, Paw Paw, that his job was to give my son unconditional love. it was a strained, difficult weekend, so i wrote it off as a symptom.
the last weekend of July and the first weekend in August, my parents spent both weekends visiting us; we’ve become a wayside for their timeshare adventures (because my father insists on driving everywhere). the first weekend was my mother’s birthday, so most of the attention was focused on her (and they stayed with us merely Friday and Saturday nights). the second weekend they arrived on Friday night and did not leave until Monday morning. my mother was sick, hacking, eventually diagnosed very close to having pneumonia. my father arrived with a belly ache which lasted a day or two. neither weekend was a rip-roaring time, but then again they never are, but i do not recall any specific incident between Punkin and Paw Paw.
as my parents were preparing to leave, they were doting on Peanut. Paw Paw was ignoring Punkin. Punkin pee’d in the corner of the living room. i didn’t make a big deal and got him cleaned up without a bunch of fuss, which is nothing short of a miracle for me … thank God for meds. as we were saying our goodbyes, Punkin wouldn’t give Paw Paw a hug and a kiss goodbye. i wasn’t about to force him to do it. Punkin did insist on waving goodbye as they left. and my father’s parting words to Punkin: “eventually you will realize what side your bread is buttered on.” needless to say this meant nothing to Punkin.
i wrote it off to another strained, difficult set of weekends.
one week later, i’m on the phone with my parents for the weekly obligatory phone call. my father’s opening words to me: “you tell your son he needs to learn what side his bread is buttered on.” my response: “he’s three and a half, and i will not have this conversation with you. we all love you. goodbye.”
my father’s messages have fucked me up for a lifetime and left me with low self esteem. fine. whatever. although he is ignorant of the pain he has caused me, i love him. atleast i know where the negative voices in my head come from. but i will not let him hurt my son. Punkin loves his Paw Paw, and asks when he will see him next. i don’t know what to say. i don’t want to expose my son to that for one second. i don’t care about gifts or an inheritance. my son deserves nothing less than the unconditional love i didn’t get, as it was obviously conditional.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
hell hath frozen over (again)
i ironed two pairs of pants (capris, actually, so it was an abbreviated version of ironing pants) and one shirt last night. the shirt was a stupid idea. it's a very nice white linen shirt, purchased by el Jefe', that i wore a couple weeks ago to a meeting with big-wigs and politicians in an attempt to dress up. that was a travesty as said meeting occurred on a Friday when normally it is acceptable to wear jeans and flip flops. the shirt was an afterthought; i needed to iron the capris because my hanging damp method didn't provide its usual results, and i thought i'd throw in the shirt for good measure, just in case i have to meet with the queen or something.
a linen shirt. that i won't be wearing for days, or weeks. that i will undoubtedly have to iron again before i wear it.
i must've been delirious. i do not recall when was the last time i ironed. it's not that i didn't need to iron. it's that i made do with the results of the hanging damp method, even if my wardrobe was reduced to five bottoms and five tops, since Peanut was born.
my boss made a comment a couple weeks ago about a golf shirt i was wearing needing ironing. need i mention he has a SAH wife? bite me.
a linen shirt. that i won't be wearing for days, or weeks. that i will undoubtedly have to iron again before i wear it.
i must've been delirious. i do not recall when was the last time i ironed. it's not that i didn't need to iron. it's that i made do with the results of the hanging damp method, even if my wardrobe was reduced to five bottoms and five tops, since Peanut was born.
my boss made a comment a couple weeks ago about a golf shirt i was wearing needing ironing. need i mention he has a SAH wife? bite me.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
i'm on drugs (again)
after more than four years, but less than nine years, i am on drugs again. an antidepressant, specifically Citalopram. (i included that link, as opposed to many others available, because it is my favorite source for information.)
i think i was first prescribed medication for depression nearly 20 years ago. my how time flies. i've lost track of what i've taken, and how long i took it. i remember the nuisance side effects. i remember spending three weeks in a psych ward while my shrink cranked up my dosage. i think at that time i was seeing three different doctors/therapists/counselors ... whatever ... it was bad, to the point i was hospitalized in a locked ward. after that, there was more therapy, and more drugs, and different doctors, and different drugs, and one that made me feel GREAT except that it sent my blood pressure sky-high, to the point they put me on something like Ritalin while i was coming off it. i moved out-of-state in late 1996, and don't recall finding a doctor, so i must've stopped taking medication. later, a counselor recommended a gyn-ob to put me on an antidepressant after a miscarriage. i followed through, but i don't remember for how long. i just know that when i was pregnant with Punkin i wasn't on anything.
so i got to the point (again) where i was willing to try medication (again).
so far, so good. not much nausea. i take it at night after dinner and fall asleep very soundly, pretty quickly. i yawn a lot during the day. but i feel better. not great, but better ... better enough that i'm afraid my blood pressure is sky-high again and they'll have to try something else.
and a month's supply is only four bucks. because i'm worth it.
i think i was first prescribed medication for depression nearly 20 years ago. my how time flies. i've lost track of what i've taken, and how long i took it. i remember the nuisance side effects. i remember spending three weeks in a psych ward while my shrink cranked up my dosage. i think at that time i was seeing three different doctors/therapists/counselors ... whatever ... it was bad, to the point i was hospitalized in a locked ward. after that, there was more therapy, and more drugs, and different doctors, and different drugs, and one that made me feel GREAT except that it sent my blood pressure sky-high, to the point they put me on something like Ritalin while i was coming off it. i moved out-of-state in late 1996, and don't recall finding a doctor, so i must've stopped taking medication. later, a counselor recommended a gyn-ob to put me on an antidepressant after a miscarriage. i followed through, but i don't remember for how long. i just know that when i was pregnant with Punkin i wasn't on anything.
so i got to the point (again) where i was willing to try medication (again).
so far, so good. not much nausea. i take it at night after dinner and fall asleep very soundly, pretty quickly. i yawn a lot during the day. but i feel better. not great, but better ... better enough that i'm afraid my blood pressure is sky-high again and they'll have to try something else.
and a month's supply is only four bucks. because i'm worth it.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
my Clampett commute
last month, this is how i got the kids to school (day care) nine times. according to this somewhat user friendly website i saved 55 bucks and 94 lbs of emissions.
i drop the kids off at school and ride another half-mile to work. the trailer actually has some cargo space so i can take my purse and important bag of shit (brief case) with a change of clothes and shoes, and lunch, and a diet dew, and my calculator (see profile), and all the other pieces of paper, and post-its, and colored pens i find oh-so-important that i drag them around on a daily basis. this is particularly important because i am hauling around close to 90 lbs of kids, trailer, and cargo behind a 20-year-old Raleigh Technium (add another 37 lbs) ... so what's the difference if i'm drinking regular or diet?
el Jefe' and i did one test run to and from school the day of the photo. Peanut fell asleep although she did not look very comfortable. Peanut wears Punkin's old helmet ... yes, i'm being thrifty and probably compromising the safety of the elders' only granddaughter, but i have not been able to find a new replacement for someone under the age of three ... said hand-me-down helmet is pointed in the back because everyone knows toddlers need to be aerodynamic. the point interferes with leaning back, so she turns her head sideways (point toward her brother) which he finds a nuisance. fortunately my commute is not in sync with nap time, so the pointed helmet is not as bothersome (to both kids).
the first day of the official commute, i got three calls at work that Peanut had a mysterious rash: the first call was a courtesy call; the second call was a recommendation that i pick up some hydrocortisone cream; and the third call was to take her home for fear she was contagious. so i stop at the grocery store on the way to get her, buy some cream, go pick her up, and coincidentally Punkin is on his way to the lunch room. of course he wants to go home with me, too. so within the span of three hours, i hauled both kids to and from school, went to work for a brief time, and changed my clothes four times. fortunately, this has not deterred me.
i tried a new route today ... a lot less traffic, to the point of being downright lonesome ... even Punkin asked, "Where are all the people?" the jury is out on that one.
i've ridden when it's over 100 degrees (el Jefe' picked up the kids), with an air stagnation warning and threats of stage 2 air quality (lack thereof), and through wind and puddles ... and i'm still not sure why i am doing this. i am saving gas. technically, i haven't saved money ... i'll need to ride roundtrip another 23 times before the trailer has paid for itself. it is my only form of exercise. sometimes one kid or another enjoys it. i especially appreciate the solitude on the ride home when el Jefe' picks up the kids. but i'm not passionate about any aspect of this.
i'm dreading the thought of buying some cycling clothes for fall and winter (i was born without the shopping gene, you know). but maybe my kids will actually get some use out of their hand-me-down snow suits this year?
i drop the kids off at school and ride another half-mile to work. the trailer actually has some cargo space so i can take my purse and important bag of shit (brief case) with a change of clothes and shoes, and lunch, and a diet dew, and my calculator (see profile), and all the other pieces of paper, and post-its, and colored pens i find oh-so-important that i drag them around on a daily basis. this is particularly important because i am hauling around close to 90 lbs of kids, trailer, and cargo behind a 20-year-old Raleigh Technium (add another 37 lbs) ... so what's the difference if i'm drinking regular or diet?
el Jefe' and i did one test run to and from school the day of the photo. Peanut fell asleep although she did not look very comfortable. Peanut wears Punkin's old helmet ... yes, i'm being thrifty and probably compromising the safety of the elders' only granddaughter, but i have not been able to find a new replacement for someone under the age of three ... said hand-me-down helmet is pointed in the back because everyone knows toddlers need to be aerodynamic. the point interferes with leaning back, so she turns her head sideways (point toward her brother) which he finds a nuisance. fortunately my commute is not in sync with nap time, so the pointed helmet is not as bothersome (to both kids).
the first day of the official commute, i got three calls at work that Peanut had a mysterious rash: the first call was a courtesy call; the second call was a recommendation that i pick up some hydrocortisone cream; and the third call was to take her home for fear she was contagious. so i stop at the grocery store on the way to get her, buy some cream, go pick her up, and coincidentally Punkin is on his way to the lunch room. of course he wants to go home with me, too. so within the span of three hours, i hauled both kids to and from school, went to work for a brief time, and changed my clothes four times. fortunately, this has not deterred me.
i tried a new route today ... a lot less traffic, to the point of being downright lonesome ... even Punkin asked, "Where are all the people?" the jury is out on that one.
i've ridden when it's over 100 degrees (el Jefe' picked up the kids), with an air stagnation warning and threats of stage 2 air quality (lack thereof), and through wind and puddles ... and i'm still not sure why i am doing this. i am saving gas. technically, i haven't saved money ... i'll need to ride roundtrip another 23 times before the trailer has paid for itself. it is my only form of exercise. sometimes one kid or another enjoys it. i especially appreciate the solitude on the ride home when el Jefe' picks up the kids. but i'm not passionate about any aspect of this.
i'm dreading the thought of buying some cycling clothes for fall and winter (i was born without the shopping gene, you know). but maybe my kids will actually get some use out of their hand-me-down snow suits this year?
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