Archive for June, 2007

Flying.

Today is my last day of work for the summer. 

I’ve avoided talking about it on here because I just didn’t feel like I could say anything I haven’t already said before.  It’s been tough on me, these last few weeks.  Some days were really, really hard.  There were times where I was dangerously close to just saying, “Come pick up your kids.  I quit as of right now.”  But I didn’t.  I worked with the parents, and worked with the one child, and worked and worked and worked.  I told my children to just hang on–The Boy in particular, because some days he just doesn’t get along with one of the children I babysit–until the end of June, then they would be able to just relax and enjoy their summer.  I’m glad that I didn’t put my foot down and insist I was done when I was having a rash of no good, very bad days, because I didn’t end everything on a bad note.  Today is the last day, and I hope it’s a good one.

(You know I’ve totally jinxed it now, right?  I’m going to end up having the worst day ever because I said I hope today’s a good day.  Or maybe I’ve jinxed it the other way, and because I’ve said I’ll have the worst day ever, it’ll be the best.  Hmmm.)

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On a totally different subject, I took a big ol’ drink of my coffee this morning, and got a fly in my mouth.  A fly!  In my coffee!  And while I was desperately trying to scrape out my mouth with a napkin, The Boy went over to take a look at the fly that I just spit out right there on the table, and started to gag.  And then he was all grossed out and I had to try and keep him from puking.  And I was all grossed out and trying to keep from puking myself.  Ugh!

I still feel unclean, even after brushing my teeth and rinsing with Listerine.  Darn fly…

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Sugaraholic.

I made a decison last week to cut out the added sugar from my diet.  I’m hypoglycemic, and the sugar–and lots of it–I’ve been eating does nothing for my insulin and blood sugar levels.  Well, it does something, but nothing good.  And while I’ve known for a very long time that it has gotten out of control again, it’s taken until yesterday for me to actually get it back under control.  But, by golly, yesterday I felt fantastic.  I had so much energy.  And so much more pep.  It gave me a whole new perspective on how I should feel versus how I did feel while hopped up on sweets.

Before, I kept thinking that maybe my problem was a lack of exercise, and I bought a pedometer (in the dollar bin at Target) and tracked my steps.  Which, by the way, I was taking plenty of (steps, that is.)  I averaged 10,000 steps before I even added any exercise.  So knowing that lack of movement wasn’t necessarily my problem, I knew I would have to take a look at my diet.

It’s funny how I knew I shouldn’t eat a lot of sugar and simple carbohydrates, especially with an absence of a protein accompaniment, yet because the slow descent into sugar-aholism was so gradual I didn’t realise how much of it I was eating.  Or maybe I did realize and just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

But, ya’ll, it really does make a difference in how I feel.  I may even go so far to say it makes a difference in how I act.  It certainly makes a difference in how much I weigh.  Just removing the added sugars has left me 2 pounds lighter already.  And that, folks, is the sugar-free icing on top of a sugar-free cake.

Duh, cable.

We’ve been having problems with our digital cable for several weeks now.  It has gotten to the point that, if it wasn’t such a hassle to submit a request form for a sattelite dish to our Home Owners Association so they could tell us where, how, and when to put the dish up their asses on our house, I would totally be enjoying my new Direct TV right about now.

The cable man came out to the house today (for the second time in two weeks) and basically just unplugged our cable box and plugged it right back in.  Then, Ta-Da, fixed.  And he stood there and asked me, real carefully, if I had tried to reset the system before.  To which I wanted to say, “Wait, you’re saying that box right there controls my cable?!?”  But in reality, I told him that we had tried that several times, and we had also called the 1-800 number and had them send a new signal to our box.  And then we’d tried leaving offerings for the cable gods by the box, only to have the cable gods rebuke us and leave the food and money we offered untouched.  (Okay, so not the last part, but we did stop just short of trying that.)  He then carefully explained to me how to unplug the box and count to 60 while waiting for it to reload.  Also, he told me I could unplug it either from the wall or from the back of the box–whichever I found easier–because both ways were ways of unplugging the box.  This last part he said really slowly and carefully, as if I wasn’t really sure about the whole working of plugs and electricity.

So thanks, cable guy, for coming and fixing our cable.  And while I’m sure it will stop working at approximately the same time you cross the threshhold out of our neighborhood, I do appreciate your help.  Also, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, as to why you told me such painfully obvious “hints”, by assuming you deal with some real idiots during the course of your day.

Now, how is it I do this again?  Hold the power button down while I count to 60, then unplug it?  Why isn’t it working?!

Visit.

I got an email from my father not too long ago saying that he didn’t think, for various reasons, that he’d be coming to visit this summer.  Instead, we’d do a great big vacation together in a couple of years or so.  Well, I didn’t like the sound of that because it has been one whole year (!) since we’ve seen him, and that’s just too long.  (But the big vacation still sounds like a good idea, so no cancelling that, okay?)  So in response to the email, we sent him plane tickets to visit us.  Now he has no choice.

He’ll be here in just over two weeks.  And I got so excited that I started planning all kinds of “outings” to do with him. Then I had to back off and realize that it may be better for everyone involved if I didn’t plan outings that made the kids hot, tired, and cranky while he’s here.  It may make his visit not-so-fun.  It’s just a thought.

(But, Dad, you may want to pack your hot weather clothing, and an extra dose of patience, just in case.)

(And pack something warm for inside the house.  Remember, you are coming to our house.  The house where, if you leave a glass of water on the counter overnight, you will have ice in the morning.  And our air conditioning frequently chases our guests outside into the 90 degree heat so they can stop shivering.  Oh, and you may want ear plugs, because, you know, the kids are LOUD.  And hope you like the guineas.  Oh, you’re going to have so much fun!)

Distant.

I’m an emotionally distant person.  That doesn’t necessarily mean that I feel my emotions any less than people who wear their heart on their sleeve, but more that I keep mine close.  Very, very close.

For a very long time in my life, it was only about me.  And while I don’t think I would have been called a narcissist,  I do think I was very self-absorbed.  There were a lot of people I cared about, yet managed to just break myself away from without a second glance.  It was not that I didn’t care, but more that I didn’t know how to express my emotions and therefore just turned them off.  I walked away from a lot of friendships because I didn’t know what to do.  It was safer for me that way.  And I didn’t have the capacity to feel for anyone else.

(And I want to take the time, while we’re on the subject, to apologize to all those in my life during that period. I am so very sorry.)

Now that I’m in a stable marriage and have children, I have the strength to be able to deal with my emotions, yet I still find it hard to express them.  It’s a very hard thing to turn off, this desire to be distant and therefore safe.  I’m nowhere near what I think anyone could call self-absorbed now.  My circle has extended beyond myself and now includes my little family.  Now my desire is to keep them safe and insulated, to keep them from feeling anything bad.

I’ve been given this daughter who is the most emotional person I have ever known.  I can’t help but think it’s some sort of cosmic justice, or divine intervention.  She wears her heart on her sleeve, and it is always being jostled and bruised.  It makes me uncomfortable, at times, to have her be so emotional.  I want to tell her to buck up, to get over it.  But I also want to tell her it’s okay to show your emotions.  It lets everyone know where you stand.  It lets them know when you are hurt, when you love them, and when you need something.  It never leaves them wondering where they stand with you.  But it does, however, take a lot out of her.  And me. 

And sometimes I don’t know what to do with this person that I want to protect so much.  I worry I don’t have the ability to show her how much I love her.  I worry that she’ll grow up wondering why her mother was so distant, even when she was always there.

Dreaming of cooler days.

If I had my choice of anywhere in the world to live, I’m not sure where I’d choose, but I do know it would be someplace that never got too hot in the summer.  (IE: not here.)  It would be someplace mild, yet with definite seasons.  Going back to northern England sounds good, although I’m sure that there are several other amazing places to choose from.  I’m also sure that I’d have to travel extensively to check out all those amazing places.  I’ll just skip the deserts and the polar areas, though.  I’m pretty sure I don’t want to live in either of those areas.

What I do want is a place where I can get into my car without feeling like I’ve sat down in an oven, a place where I can run errands and emerge from my car without sweat dripping down my hairline and the ass of my pants sagging.  (Does that happen to you?  The sagging pants?  Don’t you just hate that?  And the only solution I can think of is to buy pants that are so tight you can barely breathe so that when they sag, they loosen up enough to fit.  However, I’m not willing to suffer the tight.  But I digress…)  I want a place where the sun shines and warms the day, yet the air gets cool enough to need a sweater in the evening.  I want a place that has snow (!) in the winter and crisp fall mornings.  Mostly, I want a place that is a lot unlike here.

But because this place has so many other things going for it — like B’s job and other important things like our livelihood — we’re staying here.  But just for the record, I hate the weather here.  I hate the high heat and humidity.  Bah!

Spared.

After yesterday’s post — which I read and thought to myself, hmmm, does this even make any damn sense?  — I will spare you any more of my own special brand of crazy.  You can thank me later.

Instead, I’m going to send you over to read a post at Purple is a Fruit.  It’s awesome.  All I can say is: Ditto.  You can thank me later for sending you over there, too.