Just recently I have been noticing a growing sense of dread coming over me when the 7 o'clock hour rolls around. This is the time of the evening when my youngest daughter has taken to calling me to chat about her day. When I say chat I guess I really mean complain. For 30 minutes to an hour, I get a run down of what's been happening since the last time I spoke with her (within 24 hours at most.) Her list of complaints gets longer by the day and sometimes I think my brain will burst from all the negativity. Here are some of the things she complains about:
....being really, really tired, her feet hurting from walking to and from class, how much homework she has, how overly liberal her professors are, how hot it is in her dorm, how her roommate is super messy, how her roommate keeps her up at night because her classes don't start till the afternoon, how the food in the cafeteria sucks, how much she hates the showers in the dorm, how her head is aching from one thing or another, how uncomfortable her bed is, how she is out of diet coke with caffeine, how there is still an infestation of ladybugs in her dorm room even though I've called to complain about it numerous times as has she, how late the buses always are, how heavy her book bag is and how it is making her shoulders ache, how hot or cold it is outside that day, how slow her computer is, how her phone is getting on her nerves, how she hates her haircut, how she's bored, how she's out of money, how she forgot her favorite top at home the last time she visited and that's what she wants to wear tomorrow....and on and on and on...
Since August 14th, I have been getting these calls on a nightly basis, and it's taken until this past week or so to finally feel I'm at my limit. At around 6 PM, I start feeling edgy, anticipating the call, and when I see her name pop up on my phone, I think, "Oh, here we go again!" I flip open the phone, take a deep breath, and ask her about her day.
A number of years ago, when my children were young, I wrote a poem called, A Good Mother. The poem listed all the things a good mother would do that I did not do. It starts, "A good mother wakes up in the morning and makes her children eggs..." because that's what I've always thought good mothers should do. Me? I served toast and cereal because it was easy and fast. I slipped eggs into their diet at night when I would occasionally serve breakfast for dinner, but I never felt I should get credit for that because it felt like I was cheating. Truth be told, I was too lazy and grumpy to make eggs in the morning and as far as I was concerned, that's what a good mother would do.
That poem felt like a purging of all the awful things I felt about myself as a mother--all the "shoulds" I couldn't manage to do---all the ways I felt I was falling short. I'm not sure what happened to that poem but if I find it, I'll post it here so you can see where my head was at. There is a quiet sadness about stay at home mothers that nobody seems to notice. We never hear enough good things about how important and difficult our job is. Never.
That poem came back to me today when I started writing this because I imagine if I wrote it today I would probably say something like, "A good mother would listen to her college age daughter complain without watching the clock to see when the call might be over." After hanging up with her, I find myself heading to the kitchen to look for something crunchy to eat like pretzels, or something crunchy AND sweet like Frosted Mini Wheats which I eat out of the box until I have my fill. I crunch and crunch and crunch and crunch. Can y'all hear me wherever you are?
If I'm extra lucky, on those same nights I get a call from my daughter, my husband will be out of town and call me to recount his list of complaints so that I get a double dose of downers. I can be bobbing around the ceiling like a helium balloon all day, and in no time, my feet are planted back on the ground where good mothers and good wives listen with compassion, and promise with conviction, that tomorrow will be better, for sure.
Showing posts with label husbands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label husbands. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Friday, April 17, 2009
Brighter than sunshine
I came home from the grocery store Sunday afternoon to find my son sitting on a bench outside the front door armed with a hose and one of those car cleaning mitts. I asked him what he was doing and he explained that my husband was being driven crazy by a tiny bird that kept coming up to the brass kick plate on our front door. Apparently, the little bird could see it's reflection in the kick plate and hopped around cheep-cheeping at himself. So I was like...um...ok. "But what are YOU doing?" And he told me that he was waiting for the bird to return so that he could spray it with water or toss the mitt at it so that it would go away. This is what I live with. I went inside and I had to hear all about the terrorist bird (about the size of baseball) who would NOT stop making a racket while my husband was trying to watch TV. I told him to turn up the volume. I mean, REALLY. The little bird wasn't hurting anything or anyone. He was just hopping along the front step looking at himself and cheeping merrily and we have to immediately institute plans to murder the poor thing.
This reminds me of the time years ago when we were taking a road trip back home with the kids. It was a 18 hour trip and about 10 minutes into the ride, the kids were in the back screeching at each other at the top of their lungs. I had brought a book to immerse myself in and I just tuned them out but my husband went ballistic and pronounced that "Everyone better knock it off and remain silent for the rest of the trip!" Now that's reality for you!
The bird hasn't been back all week while my husband has been out of town so let's see if he makes a reappearance to start harassing him this weekend again.
I can't believe it's mid April already. Time is flying. My youngest daughter is getting ready to graduate from high school and I thought I'd be truly depressed by the prospect of her leaving to go off to college, but strangely, I'm just so excited for her and how well she has done. I really have been blessed to have children who have remained grounded in a world where it's so easy to get distracted by excesses everywhere. She has been especially hard hit by the loss of friendships due to their involvement in drinking,drugs and just plain rebellion towards EVERYTHING and she has managed to pick herself up and find new friends and a new way of life without them. She has kept her eye on the prize and I am unendingly proud of her for that.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Break a window, burn a souffle, scream a lullabye
I have it in my head that other people lead more normal lives than I do. By that I mean when other people get in the car to go out to eat with their families, I'm sure the trip to wherever they're going doesn't end up in shouting matches like it does here--where I have to hold myself back from opening my door and jumping out into the road just to get away from all of them. Normal in that when someone suggests to their father that he might be passing by the dry cleaners where he needs to drop off his shirts for work, everyone doesn't end up listening to a tirade about how someone doesn't need anyone telling him how to drive or where to go because he knows everything and takes care of everything.
Normal in that people can agree on one place to go to eat without it being a major production like we always have here--people within a family who can compromise and not always put themselves first because they feel they work the hardest or deserve to make all the decisions for everyone because they earn the money that will buy the food everyone will eat. I want normal people in my life and I don't have normal people in my life, and when I look around me, I think everyone has normal people except me, and I'm jealous of them. I think I started off my life pretty normal then gravitated towards crazy and now I am neck deep in it and I want out even though I know I cannot go.
I know tomorrow I will feel differently, but now, I am beside myself with regret. I don't want out of control yellers who make mountains out of molehills, who fight dirty by bringing up things that have taken place years ago just because it's easier than being normal and letting things go. I'm sick of scab-pickers who feed me the most beautiful words thinking that I will believe in words when there aren't any actions to back them up.
It's the day of love and after attempting to going out to eat with my family, we all came home and went our separate ways because we can't do the simple things without making them difficult and ridiculous and so terribly insane it makes me ashamed to even write it all down. I took the valentine my husband gave me and I went into the kitchen and I got scissors and cut it up into a million pieces and left in by his wallet. It felt cathartic cutting that thing up.
Don't give me a valentine that speaks of love then scream like a maniac about all the things in life that should not matter because that is not the way I have ever operated and if you don't know that by now, then I guess I am living with people who do not know me at all.
And it's moments like this that I wonder how in the world I ended up in this place, in this life with these people. What's the purpose, the message, the life lesson I need to learn that put me right here where I least want to be?
And I think...how could I have gotten it so wrong? How could I have thought I knew that this is what I wanted for my life when I was only 21 years old? And I want so badly to go back and make different choices...ones which do not lead me HERE with a person who finds it so easy to stamp out my light, to leave me lonely.
Normal in that people can agree on one place to go to eat without it being a major production like we always have here--people within a family who can compromise and not always put themselves first because they feel they work the hardest or deserve to make all the decisions for everyone because they earn the money that will buy the food everyone will eat. I want normal people in my life and I don't have normal people in my life, and when I look around me, I think everyone has normal people except me, and I'm jealous of them. I think I started off my life pretty normal then gravitated towards crazy and now I am neck deep in it and I want out even though I know I cannot go.
I know tomorrow I will feel differently, but now, I am beside myself with regret. I don't want out of control yellers who make mountains out of molehills, who fight dirty by bringing up things that have taken place years ago just because it's easier than being normal and letting things go. I'm sick of scab-pickers who feed me the most beautiful words thinking that I will believe in words when there aren't any actions to back them up.
It's the day of love and after attempting to going out to eat with my family, we all came home and went our separate ways because we can't do the simple things without making them difficult and ridiculous and so terribly insane it makes me ashamed to even write it all down. I took the valentine my husband gave me and I went into the kitchen and I got scissors and cut it up into a million pieces and left in by his wallet. It felt cathartic cutting that thing up.
Don't give me a valentine that speaks of love then scream like a maniac about all the things in life that should not matter because that is not the way I have ever operated and if you don't know that by now, then I guess I am living with people who do not know me at all.
And it's moments like this that I wonder how in the world I ended up in this place, in this life with these people. What's the purpose, the message, the life lesson I need to learn that put me right here where I least want to be?
And I think...how could I have gotten it so wrong? How could I have thought I knew that this is what I wanted for my life when I was only 21 years old? And I want so badly to go back and make different choices...ones which do not lead me HERE with a person who finds it so easy to stamp out my light, to leave me lonely.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Things I'm tired of...
Here are a few things I am tired of:
People constantly referring to themselves in the third person. Enough already. Say ME, not Her. Say I, not SHE. I have had it up to my eyeballs with this third-person writing crap. Is this the new thing and I'm just out of the loop? If so, I'll remain on the outside. I don't know why it's annoying me so much but honest to God I feel like smacking people who constantly write in this manner.
People who decide it's a good idea to buy a present for someone then solicit funds from everyone because they think it's such a great idea and that you must want to be a part of it. Newsflash: I don't want to be a part of it. I don't want my husband to be a part of it. At work they are always after him for money for this one and that one...for birthdays, Christmas and whatthefuckever they can create, and I am just sick to death of it all. Why do we have to contribute money for a present for the secretary of my husband's boss? HUH? She doesn't do any work for my husband. I type all his shit. Nobody has a collection for me so why should we contribute money for her? It grates on my last nerve.
Also, let me add to this group, people who ask me and my husband to buy crap from their kids when we have three kids of our own, TWO in college and one who will be in college next year. Do you think we have $20 extra dollars to spend on an apple pound cake to support your kid's baseball team? No we do not but my husband buys it anyway because he doesn't want people to think we're cheap. Okkkkkkkkkkk. Every month it's something new. ENOUGH! I never, ever had my kids sell things to other people because I know how expensive it is and yet here we are now stuck with people who want to take, take, take all the time and don't think for a minute about how rude they are being by putting us on the spot. I'm beginning to seriously hate these people.
Birthdays right after the holidays. I know it's not their fault, however, I find myself hating January and February because of all the birthdays that keep popping up. The whole thing wears me out--what with the lists of things people want when they already have more than enough and then I feel bad because like I said before, they shouldn't be penalized for being born right after Christmas. I can't enjoy their birthdays, though. It feels like I'm in the middle of great big avalanche. It feels like I'm drowning.
People who join gyms then come home and eat a whole plate of brownies.
The fact that the price of a barrel of oil keeps going down, yet our gas prices have been gradually creeping up these past two weeks. We were at an all time low a couple of weeks ago at $1.39. Within two weeks it's shot back up to $1.79. WTF? I know that's still cheap, but WTF? The news reports that the price is creeping up so that when summer rolls around we won't have prices spike up quickly. HUH? It's fucking January!!!! And then I start hearing how Congress wants to put a tax on gas to get it back up to $3.00 so that we'll all start driving fuel efficient cars that no one wants to drive while THEY'RE tooling around in major gas-guzzlers. This is America. I want to drive what I want to drive and not what some out of touch elitist bullshitter wants me to drive so that they can feel better about themselves. The hypocrisy of these people is mind boggling. I am convinced that the purpose of the new administration will be to kill the middle class. I am not being over dramatic. I truly believe this. I will be happy if I am proven wrong but I doubt that's going to happen. They do not want working hard to pay off for us. It's too discouraging for me to think too much about.
My husband asking me to come sit by him while he watches television. Huh? He wants me to sit by him and watch him watch tv. That makes no sense. He doesn't want to watch what I want to watch, he wants me to sit beside him and be happy watching him watch what he wants to watch. This makes me think that he thinks I'm the sort of simple minded person who doesn't mind being bored out of my mind for extended periods of time when in fact, I do mind that VERY MUCH. I usually say no but he keeps asking me anyway. I don't ask him to come sit beside me as I read on the computer. It wouldn't occur to me to even ask that and I don't understand why he continues to ask me to watch him watch tv. Perhaps I give off the impression that I am an airhead, but I don't think so.
The cold. I live in the south because I love being hot. I sat watching my daughter play tennis today in the bitter cold. I wanted to sit in the car but then she asked me if I was coming out to watch her and so I told her I'd be out as soon as I saw her match begin. An hour and a half into the match, snowflakes started falling softly out of the sky and we all looked up, and for a moment, I did not hate that my feet were frozen numb or that I could not stop shaking in an attempt to keep myself warm. I haven't seen snow in years. It felt like a small, secret miracle sent to make me happy when my heart was frozen over along with the rest of me.
People constantly referring to themselves in the third person. Enough already. Say ME, not Her. Say I, not SHE. I have had it up to my eyeballs with this third-person writing crap. Is this the new thing and I'm just out of the loop? If so, I'll remain on the outside. I don't know why it's annoying me so much but honest to God I feel like smacking people who constantly write in this manner.
People who decide it's a good idea to buy a present for someone then solicit funds from everyone because they think it's such a great idea and that you must want to be a part of it. Newsflash: I don't want to be a part of it. I don't want my husband to be a part of it. At work they are always after him for money for this one and that one...for birthdays, Christmas and whatthefuckever they can create, and I am just sick to death of it all. Why do we have to contribute money for a present for the secretary of my husband's boss? HUH? She doesn't do any work for my husband. I type all his shit. Nobody has a collection for me so why should we contribute money for her? It grates on my last nerve.
Also, let me add to this group, people who ask me and my husband to buy crap from their kids when we have three kids of our own, TWO in college and one who will be in college next year. Do you think we have $20 extra dollars to spend on an apple pound cake to support your kid's baseball team? No we do not but my husband buys it anyway because he doesn't want people to think we're cheap. Okkkkkkkkkkk. Every month it's something new. ENOUGH! I never, ever had my kids sell things to other people because I know how expensive it is and yet here we are now stuck with people who want to take, take, take all the time and don't think for a minute about how rude they are being by putting us on the spot. I'm beginning to seriously hate these people.
Birthdays right after the holidays. I know it's not their fault, however, I find myself hating January and February because of all the birthdays that keep popping up. The whole thing wears me out--what with the lists of things people want when they already have more than enough and then I feel bad because like I said before, they shouldn't be penalized for being born right after Christmas. I can't enjoy their birthdays, though. It feels like I'm in the middle of great big avalanche. It feels like I'm drowning.
People who join gyms then come home and eat a whole plate of brownies.
The fact that the price of a barrel of oil keeps going down, yet our gas prices have been gradually creeping up these past two weeks. We were at an all time low a couple of weeks ago at $1.39. Within two weeks it's shot back up to $1.79. WTF? I know that's still cheap, but WTF? The news reports that the price is creeping up so that when summer rolls around we won't have prices spike up quickly. HUH? It's fucking January!!!! And then I start hearing how Congress wants to put a tax on gas to get it back up to $3.00 so that we'll all start driving fuel efficient cars that no one wants to drive while THEY'RE tooling around in major gas-guzzlers. This is America. I want to drive what I want to drive and not what some out of touch elitist bullshitter wants me to drive so that they can feel better about themselves. The hypocrisy of these people is mind boggling. I am convinced that the purpose of the new administration will be to kill the middle class. I am not being over dramatic. I truly believe this. I will be happy if I am proven wrong but I doubt that's going to happen. They do not want working hard to pay off for us. It's too discouraging for me to think too much about.
My husband asking me to come sit by him while he watches television. Huh? He wants me to sit by him and watch him watch tv. That makes no sense. He doesn't want to watch what I want to watch, he wants me to sit beside him and be happy watching him watch what he wants to watch. This makes me think that he thinks I'm the sort of simple minded person who doesn't mind being bored out of my mind for extended periods of time when in fact, I do mind that VERY MUCH. I usually say no but he keeps asking me anyway. I don't ask him to come sit beside me as I read on the computer. It wouldn't occur to me to even ask that and I don't understand why he continues to ask me to watch him watch tv. Perhaps I give off the impression that I am an airhead, but I don't think so.
The cold. I live in the south because I love being hot. I sat watching my daughter play tennis today in the bitter cold. I wanted to sit in the car but then she asked me if I was coming out to watch her and so I told her I'd be out as soon as I saw her match begin. An hour and a half into the match, snowflakes started falling softly out of the sky and we all looked up, and for a moment, I did not hate that my feet were frozen numb or that I could not stop shaking in an attempt to keep myself warm. I haven't seen snow in years. It felt like a small, secret miracle sent to make me happy when my heart was frozen over along with the rest of me.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
I need your grace to remind me to find my own
"To understand any living thing, you must, so to say, creep within and feel the beating of its heart." ~W. Macneile Dixon
It was fabulously gorgeous here today and I thought how much I wish everyone could step outside and have the bluest skies and temperature in the 70's and a gentle breeze every now and then to make them feel alive and happy like I felt today.
I spent the afternoon watching my daughter play tennis and it was wonderful mostly because she won which is always a plus because winning is everything to her. I have spent a lot of time in the past really encouraging and almost pushing this sport onto her because she is very talented and could go very far if she put her mind to it, but it got to the point where I could tell she was resenting me for wanting this for her. It's so hard for me because I didn't have parents who encouraged me and so I feel like it's important to always be in my children's corner cheering them on and guiding them where I think I see their strengths lie. Then after a tournament where she lost in a third set tiebreaker she got into the car and started screaming that the only reason she played was because of me and that sort of broke my heart because I don't want to be the person who makes her daughter feel pressured to play when she doesn't want to. I really dislike mothers like that and OMG I think I was one!
I had to take a good long look at myself and decided that perhaps maybe I was wanting and pushing this on her against her wishes. I told her I would never again make any decisions without asking her first and I've kept that promise. I've let her decide when and if she wants to play, and surprisingly, what I've found is that she started to love the sport again once she felt the pressure was off her from my end. I will not tell you that this wasn't difficult for me because I know she could be a very successful professional player if she wanted to. I know this because I've been told this by the professionals who taught her. It's so hard to feel like her talent is being wasted but if it isn't her dream or passion, then it's not really fair of me to try and force it to become hers. I don't think things end well when we do that to each other anyway. It's her life, not mine and I had to find a way to find peace with that. I think after a number of years, I'm at that point. I sit and watch her play now and don't ask anything of her except that she have fun. And when she wins, she has fun...
We went out to dinner tonight and the service was really slow but the manager came to us and gave us dessert on the house. I swear that the hot fudge sundae on top of a brownie is sitting in the bottom of my stomach like a lead balloon right now. Luckily I've got a stash of Rolaids to help ease the pain.
Inexplicably, my husband has taken the entire next week off for a vacation. His impromptu vacation will be spent at home. Joy. He has created a list of things to do about a mile long which is certainly not going over real well with me because I know how I always get roped into assisting him and how I curiously end up doing most of the work. I mean, he held up his list and was all excited as he recited it to me and I'm sorry but to do lists don't do anything for me. He seriously thinks cleaning is a fun way to spend time together. I am feeling that next week might be a heavy blogging week for me as a result of this vacation.
It was fabulously gorgeous here today and I thought how much I wish everyone could step outside and have the bluest skies and temperature in the 70's and a gentle breeze every now and then to make them feel alive and happy like I felt today.
I spent the afternoon watching my daughter play tennis and it was wonderful mostly because she won which is always a plus because winning is everything to her. I have spent a lot of time in the past really encouraging and almost pushing this sport onto her because she is very talented and could go very far if she put her mind to it, but it got to the point where I could tell she was resenting me for wanting this for her. It's so hard for me because I didn't have parents who encouraged me and so I feel like it's important to always be in my children's corner cheering them on and guiding them where I think I see their strengths lie. Then after a tournament where she lost in a third set tiebreaker she got into the car and started screaming that the only reason she played was because of me and that sort of broke my heart because I don't want to be the person who makes her daughter feel pressured to play when she doesn't want to. I really dislike mothers like that and OMG I think I was one!
I had to take a good long look at myself and decided that perhaps maybe I was wanting and pushing this on her against her wishes. I told her I would never again make any decisions without asking her first and I've kept that promise. I've let her decide when and if she wants to play, and surprisingly, what I've found is that she started to love the sport again once she felt the pressure was off her from my end. I will not tell you that this wasn't difficult for me because I know she could be a very successful professional player if she wanted to. I know this because I've been told this by the professionals who taught her. It's so hard to feel like her talent is being wasted but if it isn't her dream or passion, then it's not really fair of me to try and force it to become hers. I don't think things end well when we do that to each other anyway. It's her life, not mine and I had to find a way to find peace with that. I think after a number of years, I'm at that point. I sit and watch her play now and don't ask anything of her except that she have fun. And when she wins, she has fun...
We went out to dinner tonight and the service was really slow but the manager came to us and gave us dessert on the house. I swear that the hot fudge sundae on top of a brownie is sitting in the bottom of my stomach like a lead balloon right now. Luckily I've got a stash of Rolaids to help ease the pain.
Inexplicably, my husband has taken the entire next week off for a vacation. His impromptu vacation will be spent at home. Joy. He has created a list of things to do about a mile long which is certainly not going over real well with me because I know how I always get roped into assisting him and how I curiously end up doing most of the work. I mean, he held up his list and was all excited as he recited it to me and I'm sorry but to do lists don't do anything for me. He seriously thinks cleaning is a fun way to spend time together. I am feeling that next week might be a heavy blogging week for me as a result of this vacation.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Ulterior motives (he's not fooling me!) - My Slice of Life Quotes
I flipped open my phone and he said, "I just called to say hi," then he proceeded to give me a list of things to do a mile long and I told him that the next time he felt the need to say hello to just skip it because I had enough of my own things to do without adding his into the mix.
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My memoir in six words-- tagged by VA Blondie
I lived fully until I died.
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My memoir in six words-- tagged by VA Blondie
I lived fully until I died.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
I say a little prayer
I tried to explain to my husband how it feels for me to have everyone home and in my face all the time after it just being me and him and our youngest daughter for the last two years. The house feels way too small all of a sudden. And the stress level has gone through the roof with all these personalities wanting, needing. I guess I should be used to it by now, but it seems I am not. I told him the atmosphere in the house changes--and when he is home--OMG--it's like there's a perpetual Tornado Warning sign is flashing across the top of our home. Normal conversations fly out the window. I'm always waiting for the storm I know will come.
The TV remote isn't working properly. You might think that's just a small thing but you'd be wrong. Obscenities are yelled and the world has to stop because no one can think to get fresh batteries.
I put the timer on something in the oven and I go into another room and the timer goes off. A simple, "the timer has gone off" will get my attention but in this house I hear, "SOMETHING'S BEEPING IN THE KITCHEN!!! YOU'RE BURNING SOMETHING!!!" The dramatics are truly astounding. Suddenly it seems I've forgotten how ovens with timers work. Only I haven't. I can't relax because I live with a bunch of spazzes.
And it's rubbing off on me--this over-reaction stuff, this making of mountains out of molehills. I think I've screamed more this past month than I have in the last two years. The only time anyone listens to me is if I scream. I mean, really listens. They nod and "ok" me, but no one pays attention until I scream. I'm not saying they make me scream, but THEY MAKE ME SCREAM.
So now my husband is trying to help me out today since he is home and he is vacuuming the floors and finding stains on the carpet that he doesn't know how to clean and so he is asking me what to do and I am thinking that I just want him to stop "helping" me if he cannot do the job without needing me to intervene every five seconds because then it isn't a break for me--it's just more of the same. Why doesn't he get this simple thing?
Sigh. It's really hot here. I love the heat but it takes me awhile to adjust and maybe this is just my adjustment period. My feet have been all blistered and hurting from running, too. My husband told me I probably should just go on vacation by myself this year, but if I have to come back, I'm not sure I want to give myself a taste of freedom. I truly think it might be better that I not know what I am missing.
I've been reading lots of infertility blogs recently--more so than I ever have--and my heart bleeds for those couples/families. I never want to appear disloyal or unaware of the riches I possess because I know how blessed I am. I know how good it is to be me. In between the ranting you should know I am sending my thanks to God for giving me a family that exasperates me.
The TV remote isn't working properly. You might think that's just a small thing but you'd be wrong. Obscenities are yelled and the world has to stop because no one can think to get fresh batteries.
I put the timer on something in the oven and I go into another room and the timer goes off. A simple, "the timer has gone off" will get my attention but in this house I hear, "SOMETHING'S BEEPING IN THE KITCHEN!!! YOU'RE BURNING SOMETHING!!!" The dramatics are truly astounding. Suddenly it seems I've forgotten how ovens with timers work. Only I haven't. I can't relax because I live with a bunch of spazzes.
And it's rubbing off on me--this over-reaction stuff, this making of mountains out of molehills. I think I've screamed more this past month than I have in the last two years. The only time anyone listens to me is if I scream. I mean, really listens. They nod and "ok" me, but no one pays attention until I scream. I'm not saying they make me scream, but THEY MAKE ME SCREAM.
So now my husband is trying to help me out today since he is home and he is vacuuming the floors and finding stains on the carpet that he doesn't know how to clean and so he is asking me what to do and I am thinking that I just want him to stop "helping" me if he cannot do the job without needing me to intervene every five seconds because then it isn't a break for me--it's just more of the same. Why doesn't he get this simple thing?
Sigh. It's really hot here. I love the heat but it takes me awhile to adjust and maybe this is just my adjustment period. My feet have been all blistered and hurting from running, too. My husband told me I probably should just go on vacation by myself this year, but if I have to come back, I'm not sure I want to give myself a taste of freedom. I truly think it might be better that I not know what I am missing.
I've been reading lots of infertility blogs recently--more so than I ever have--and my heart bleeds for those couples/families. I never want to appear disloyal or unaware of the riches I possess because I know how blessed I am. I know how good it is to be me. In between the ranting you should know I am sending my thanks to God for giving me a family that exasperates me.
Monday, June 2, 2008
You'll sit alone forever if you wait for the right time--what are you hoping for?
Can I tell you I get tired of their neediness and their noise and their inability to see the messes they create unless I point it out to them? Can I tell you that I sometimes bite my lip until it hurts when I am in the middle of something and I am called away from what I am doing to pick someone up and taxi them around some more? Can I tell you that I sometimes calculate in my head the hours of monotonous, mindless driving I do and think..."this is how I am spending my life..." and then I have to quickly forget about it because if I don't, the thought consumes me and makes me feel bitter, and angry, and cold inside?
Can I tell you that a lot of the time I do things not because I want to, but because I think it will be easier if I just go along...and how that makes me feel small and unimportant and weak because who does this besides me...who is always willing to be considered last all the time the way I am? Can I tell you that I do not think that my happiness is anyone's number one concern...that I am thought of in terms of what I can do for others...and that more times than not, I am perfectly ok with that until I am not?
Can I tell you that I feel like my life is about filling other people up? Can I say that when I think I cannot do any of it for another day, I somehow take a deep breath and get up and do it again and I then I think to myself that surely I will be rewarded for being the type of person who doesn't quit...and that believing this little lie I tell myself, is what keeps me moving in the right direction?
Can I tell you that listening to one of my children cough incessantly makes my skin crawl and that I have to hold myself back from screaming, "shut the fuck up" even though the cough is not something that can be controlled or stopped just because I cannot stand hearing it anymore? Can I possibly say that I am spending my life trying to make other people happy and that when they are not happy I resent them in a huge, indescribable way? Can I tell you that I feel like every minute of every day will always be theirs and not mine because when you have children that's what happens and so you learn to give over your life to other people minute by minute, day after day.
Can I tell you I made mistakes that I carry around in my heart and in my head and how those mistakes weigh me down with a sadness that never quite leaves me? Can I say I've been disappointed by the people I have loved but when they disappoint me I think it's something I probably deserve anyway? Can I say I wish I loved everyone better, and gave more hugs, and spent less time worrying about things that don't matter? Can I tell you I choke down so many things I want to say because I know that saying them might make others see me differently and I don't want to risk them rejecting the real me who is sometimes so very ugly? Can I say that if I did not have my husband and children that I know I could be happy alone but that I would never say as much because it feels disloyal to be this kind of honest when it doesn't reflect how I feel the majority of the time?
And if you let me say all this, is it possible for you to believe that most of the time I feel lucky? That all I know about life and love I learned from them? Can you understand the complexity of life is such that contradictions abound in every feeling and thought that I have and that I am often so conflicted by the side of me that wants to scream and run away? Can you see why it's easier to hide the negative things, why it is better to bury those things deep in a place they can't be accessed, why it's kinder to let those thoughts be something I never share with those that I love but instead write here where no permanent damage can be done?
Can you believe that I am still happy?
Can I tell you that a lot of the time I do things not because I want to, but because I think it will be easier if I just go along...and how that makes me feel small and unimportant and weak because who does this besides me...who is always willing to be considered last all the time the way I am? Can I tell you that I do not think that my happiness is anyone's number one concern...that I am thought of in terms of what I can do for others...and that more times than not, I am perfectly ok with that until I am not?
Can I tell you that I feel like my life is about filling other people up? Can I say that when I think I cannot do any of it for another day, I somehow take a deep breath and get up and do it again and I then I think to myself that surely I will be rewarded for being the type of person who doesn't quit...and that believing this little lie I tell myself, is what keeps me moving in the right direction?
Can I tell you that listening to one of my children cough incessantly makes my skin crawl and that I have to hold myself back from screaming, "shut the fuck up" even though the cough is not something that can be controlled or stopped just because I cannot stand hearing it anymore? Can I possibly say that I am spending my life trying to make other people happy and that when they are not happy I resent them in a huge, indescribable way? Can I tell you that I feel like every minute of every day will always be theirs and not mine because when you have children that's what happens and so you learn to give over your life to other people minute by minute, day after day.
Can I tell you I made mistakes that I carry around in my heart and in my head and how those mistakes weigh me down with a sadness that never quite leaves me? Can I say I've been disappointed by the people I have loved but when they disappoint me I think it's something I probably deserve anyway? Can I say I wish I loved everyone better, and gave more hugs, and spent less time worrying about things that don't matter? Can I tell you I choke down so many things I want to say because I know that saying them might make others see me differently and I don't want to risk them rejecting the real me who is sometimes so very ugly? Can I say that if I did not have my husband and children that I know I could be happy alone but that I would never say as much because it feels disloyal to be this kind of honest when it doesn't reflect how I feel the majority of the time?
And if you let me say all this, is it possible for you to believe that most of the time I feel lucky? That all I know about life and love I learned from them? Can you understand the complexity of life is such that contradictions abound in every feeling and thought that I have and that I am often so conflicted by the side of me that wants to scream and run away? Can you see why it's easier to hide the negative things, why it is better to bury those things deep in a place they can't be accessed, why it's kinder to let those thoughts be something I never share with those that I love but instead write here where no permanent damage can be done?
Can you believe that I am still happy?
Saturday, April 12, 2008
What is love, but whatever your heart needs around
So over the past four months we've been dealing with car mishaps/accidents. To be exact, we've had four mishaps/accidents in four months. That's one a month since the beginning of the year. To say that we are losing our humor over it would be an understatement.
In January, our son calls from the parking lot of a 7-Eleven to tell us an older woman has slid on a patch of ice and crashed into the drivers door, smashing that in.
In February, we get a call from our oldest daughter that while she's driving down the highway behind a truck, a sheet of metal or something flies out beneath the truck, dents and scratches up the hood of the car then proceeds to fly onto the windshield which scratches and cracks that all up.
In March, I get a call from my hysterical, crying youngest daughter that she has just crashed into the back of a truck which had just crashed into a the back of a car that decided to stop and then turn her blinkers on (so she crashed into the crash in front of her--it was torrential rain during this accident if that matters). She was driving my car that was spotless and less than a year old and it was totaled.
Let's take a breather here for a minute because I need one.
Let's also get out of the way that my children were not injured in any way in any of these accidents/mishaps which I know should be the main concern but somehow gets forgotten when we keep getting these calls and are then left scrambling to repair/replace the cars that are damaged or totaled.
About a week ago, I finally got a new car to replace the one that was totaled. My husband has spent countless hours getting all the cars repaired so that everything is in working order again. I have sacrificed not having a car for at least a month so that everyone else has a vehicle while waiting for all the cars to be repaired and whatnot. So I'm sitting down reading a book yesterday (April) when my cell phone rings and I see that it's my oldest daughter and I was like, "OMG, I know that she's been in another accident or something because she NEVER calls in the middle of the day unless she gets in an accident." (as her mother, I know these things)
I flip open the phone and this is what I hear, "Some old lady just drove into me, dented the drivers door all in, broke the tire and tore off the side mirror."
Honestly, I just don't even know what to think anymore because I figured that we had three bad car things happen and that that would be that but I guess not.
We went over to the body shop so that I could see the damage today and I was standing there shaking my head and my husband said, "It's always something, isn't it?"
And I said, "Doesn't this just depress you?"
And without skipping a beat or having to think at all this is what he said...
"Baby, I'm never depressed as long as I have you around."
And so I wasn't sad or angry about it anymore because that filled my heart and I know he means it.
In January, our son calls from the parking lot of a 7-Eleven to tell us an older woman has slid on a patch of ice and crashed into the drivers door, smashing that in.
In February, we get a call from our oldest daughter that while she's driving down the highway behind a truck, a sheet of metal or something flies out beneath the truck, dents and scratches up the hood of the car then proceeds to fly onto the windshield which scratches and cracks that all up.
In March, I get a call from my hysterical, crying youngest daughter that she has just crashed into the back of a truck which had just crashed into a the back of a car that decided to stop and then turn her blinkers on (so she crashed into the crash in front of her--it was torrential rain during this accident if that matters). She was driving my car that was spotless and less than a year old and it was totaled.
Let's take a breather here for a minute because I need one.
Let's also get out of the way that my children were not injured in any way in any of these accidents/mishaps which I know should be the main concern but somehow gets forgotten when we keep getting these calls and are then left scrambling to repair/replace the cars that are damaged or totaled.
About a week ago, I finally got a new car to replace the one that was totaled. My husband has spent countless hours getting all the cars repaired so that everything is in working order again. I have sacrificed not having a car for at least a month so that everyone else has a vehicle while waiting for all the cars to be repaired and whatnot. So I'm sitting down reading a book yesterday (April) when my cell phone rings and I see that it's my oldest daughter and I was like, "OMG, I know that she's been in another accident or something because she NEVER calls in the middle of the day unless she gets in an accident." (as her mother, I know these things)
I flip open the phone and this is what I hear, "Some old lady just drove into me, dented the drivers door all in, broke the tire and tore off the side mirror."
Honestly, I just don't even know what to think anymore because I figured that we had three bad car things happen and that that would be that but I guess not.
We went over to the body shop so that I could see the damage today and I was standing there shaking my head and my husband said, "It's always something, isn't it?"
And I said, "Doesn't this just depress you?"
And without skipping a beat or having to think at all this is what he said...
"Baby, I'm never depressed as long as I have you around."
And so I wasn't sad or angry about it anymore because that filled my heart and I know he means it.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Heat
I've just about had it with the heat wars in this house. All day long I keep the thermostat either off or on 66 degrees in the winter. If I am alone, this doesn't bother me one bit since I'm generally moving around and so I don't get cold. At night, I like the heat on either 65 or 66 degrees and not one degree higher because I wake up and I am covered in sweat and I hate that. My husband is the biggest baby on the face of the earth. He came down with a "sickness" earlier in the week which means that all he does is whine about how sick he is. I've been putting up with this shit since Saturday---tiptoeing around and getting him drinks and soup and whatnot all the while spraying Lysol around because if I get sick I get exactly 3 hours to GET OVER IT AND FEEL BETTER.
Anyway, just a little bit ago, he asks for a drink and I get him water then he says he wants orange juice so I go and get him a glass of THAT. I leave the room and the next thing I know, we're hearing a string of obscenities because he's somehow dropped the orange juice all over the carpet. I go in to try to help him and do you know what he does? He starts screaming that he's so fucking sick of living in a house that is never warm and that I AM THE REASON HE IS SICK BECAUSE I INSIST ON KEEPING THE HEAT LOW. Yep. Honestly, if you gave him a moment, he'd blame the Iraq war on me as well because apparently I am the reason for anything bad that ever happens ANYWHERE.
After being disrespectful to me, yelling, and blaming me for his illness due to the fact that I keep the thermostat too low, he starts using his nice voice to try to get me to clean up the orange juice on the carpet!!! Not so fast, sick boy. I told him that I was planning on helping him clean it up but since he went into his little unnecessary tirade, that he could clean it up himself. He said he didn't want to breathe in the fumes. Well, either do I, sick boy. I then went to the thermostat and jacked the heat up to 85 and I am currently sweating bullets but if he wants a hot house, he's getting a hot house.
Anyway, just a little bit ago, he asks for a drink and I get him water then he says he wants orange juice so I go and get him a glass of THAT. I leave the room and the next thing I know, we're hearing a string of obscenities because he's somehow dropped the orange juice all over the carpet. I go in to try to help him and do you know what he does? He starts screaming that he's so fucking sick of living in a house that is never warm and that I AM THE REASON HE IS SICK BECAUSE I INSIST ON KEEPING THE HEAT LOW. Yep. Honestly, if you gave him a moment, he'd blame the Iraq war on me as well because apparently I am the reason for anything bad that ever happens ANYWHERE.
After being disrespectful to me, yelling, and blaming me for his illness due to the fact that I keep the thermostat too low, he starts using his nice voice to try to get me to clean up the orange juice on the carpet!!! Not so fast, sick boy. I told him that I was planning on helping him clean it up but since he went into his little unnecessary tirade, that he could clean it up himself. He said he didn't want to breathe in the fumes. Well, either do I, sick boy. I then went to the thermostat and jacked the heat up to 85 and I am currently sweating bullets but if he wants a hot house, he's getting a hot house.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Rage - Scenes from her life - Story #1
A husband and wife sat across from each other in a booth where they were eating Chinese food. The wife ordered, then the husband ordered. and then they started to talk about a recent disappointment in their lives which they eventually agreed was small in the grand scheme of things. They agreed to be happy and remember how blessed they were to have all the good things they had in this life.
Out of the blue, the wife said to her husband, "I want you to know that lately I've been filled with rage," because she had been filled with rage lately and she didn't know who else she could share this terrible secret with besides him.
The husband said, "What are you talking about? Your life is wonderful."
The wife replied, "I know what you think you know about my life, and I am telling you that you are wrong. I am filled with rage, and the only way that I'm finding I can deal with the rage is by making sure that I put myself first for a change and stop worrying all the time about other people's happiness. I am becoming bitter from all the years of taking care of other people and never feeling like I am making anyone happy. I am sacrificing things that I want to do because in the back of my mind I am thinking this will result in their happiness but when it doesn't, I am left to ask myself what I am doing with my life except wasting my time?"
The husband looked uncomfortable and worried and clueless as all at once and immediately told his wife that she was being over dramatic. He asked her, "Well does this mean will I have to worry about you along with everyone else now?"
And the wife took a deep breath and explained to him one more time that her happiness and well being should be of concern to him, that he should be worrying whether she was happy because she worried about his happiness all the time, and isn't that what married couples do?
She told him, "The fact that you do not worry about my happiness makes me crazy. It makes me feel like I have no one in this world looking out for me and if that is the case, as it has been proven time and time again, then I'm going to take matters into my own hands and start looking out for myself."
The husband looked everywhere except at his wife and said, "Where is this coming from? I thought we were going to focus on the positive?"
The wife replied, "You don't understand. Just because I point out to you something that bothers me doesn't mean that I do not recognize all the wonderful things that I have. One has nothing to do with the other, and I don't want every conversation that I start about me to turn into a conversation about somebody or something else because that's what always happens here."
The husband looked around, and the wife could tell by his eyes that he was shocked and sad and panicked to hear these words come out of his wife. "Can't you just be happy." he pleaded? "I'm happy."
And this is the part of the story where the wife was always losing because she knew in her heart that at best, what we know of each other is what we allow others to see of us, and sometimes, even when show them what's beneath the surface, all they want to see is what they want to see.
The wife finished her diet coke, fished an ice cube out of the glass, and crushed it between her teeth because it felt good to her to crush something.
They paid the bill, walked to the car and began their drive home. The wife leaned her head against the cool glass and looked up at the stars. She felt so small, almost invisible, but she did not tell her husband this because she wasn't up to hearing once again how very lucky she was.
Out of the blue, the wife said to her husband, "I want you to know that lately I've been filled with rage," because she had been filled with rage lately and she didn't know who else she could share this terrible secret with besides him.
The husband said, "What are you talking about? Your life is wonderful."
The wife replied, "I know what you think you know about my life, and I am telling you that you are wrong. I am filled with rage, and the only way that I'm finding I can deal with the rage is by making sure that I put myself first for a change and stop worrying all the time about other people's happiness. I am becoming bitter from all the years of taking care of other people and never feeling like I am making anyone happy. I am sacrificing things that I want to do because in the back of my mind I am thinking this will result in their happiness but when it doesn't, I am left to ask myself what I am doing with my life except wasting my time?"
The husband looked uncomfortable and worried and clueless as all at once and immediately told his wife that she was being over dramatic. He asked her, "Well does this mean will I have to worry about you along with everyone else now?"
And the wife took a deep breath and explained to him one more time that her happiness and well being should be of concern to him, that he should be worrying whether she was happy because she worried about his happiness all the time, and isn't that what married couples do?
She told him, "The fact that you do not worry about my happiness makes me crazy. It makes me feel like I have no one in this world looking out for me and if that is the case, as it has been proven time and time again, then I'm going to take matters into my own hands and start looking out for myself."
The husband looked everywhere except at his wife and said, "Where is this coming from? I thought we were going to focus on the positive?"
The wife replied, "You don't understand. Just because I point out to you something that bothers me doesn't mean that I do not recognize all the wonderful things that I have. One has nothing to do with the other, and I don't want every conversation that I start about me to turn into a conversation about somebody or something else because that's what always happens here."
The husband looked around, and the wife could tell by his eyes that he was shocked and sad and panicked to hear these words come out of his wife. "Can't you just be happy." he pleaded? "I'm happy."
And this is the part of the story where the wife was always losing because she knew in her heart that at best, what we know of each other is what we allow others to see of us, and sometimes, even when show them what's beneath the surface, all they want to see is what they want to see.
The wife finished her diet coke, fished an ice cube out of the glass, and crushed it between her teeth because it felt good to her to crush something.
They paid the bill, walked to the car and began their drive home. The wife leaned her head against the cool glass and looked up at the stars. She felt so small, almost invisible, but she did not tell her husband this because she wasn't up to hearing once again how very lucky she was.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Taking the long way home
"My life is my message." - Mahatma Ghandi
My husband wanted to go for a ride today again, so I set up a few rules for our "little drive up the road." The rules were as follows:
1.) No turning the heat to 85 degrees inside the car when it is a delightfully beautiful day like today (mid 60's). My husband is always saying he's cold and I'll be sitting in the car with the vents blowing that hot air in my face and that's supposed to be enjoyable? I don't think so. He promised to abide by this rule since it makes perfect sense however I ended up turning the temperature down no less than 5 times during our ride. It's a habit that will be hard to break, I think.
2.) No NHL Home Ice on XM radio and no 60's music for longer than 10 minutes because he won't compromise on the music with me and will yell at me for liking music made in this decade. I told him that if he broke this rule, then I'd put my IPOD in my ears and ignore him. I didn't have to do this until we were on the way home (we started off at noon time and never got home until 7:30 PM.) I know.
3.) No talking about bills. This is one of his favorite topics. No matter how many times I tell him all the bills are paid (because we sit and pay them TOGETHER, mind you), he continues to ask me if they're all paid. He slipped up once which was pretty good for him considering on a bad day he'll ask me hourly (and surprisingly, the answer never changes!) I know!
Anyway, those were the basics because I didn't want to completely lose my sanity during an afternoon drive. We're scouting out land in the mountains to build a house in another year or so. Up until just recently I have fought going anywhere that felt too isolated and peaceful. I like being where the action and noise is. I like accessible shopping. But this place we've found feels a little like heaven and when I stand outside and look around I think that I could be happy there. It's the kind of place where I will be forced to be alone with my thoughts and deal with them head on instead of pushing them away until another day and I think that might be good for me. I hate moving with a passion but my husband loves moving especially if there is money is to be made. We are so totally opposite of one another it's not funny.
We had a great afternoon except for me getting a little car sick when we were whipping up and down roads in a neighborhood nestled deep in the mountains. I had to ask him to stop at a Rite Aid to get a package of Rolaids to settle my stomach. I hate being caught without Rolaids because you never know when you might need them.
I think I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving even though I didn't realize it's next week. I guess that means I need to get a turkey. It's just me, my husband and two of my kids because everyone else lives out of state. I cook all day then we sit down and in approximately 7 minutes everyone is finished and they up leave me with the mess.
I can hardly wait.
My husband wanted to go for a ride today again, so I set up a few rules for our "little drive up the road." The rules were as follows:
1.) No turning the heat to 85 degrees inside the car when it is a delightfully beautiful day like today (mid 60's). My husband is always saying he's cold and I'll be sitting in the car with the vents blowing that hot air in my face and that's supposed to be enjoyable? I don't think so. He promised to abide by this rule since it makes perfect sense however I ended up turning the temperature down no less than 5 times during our ride. It's a habit that will be hard to break, I think.
2.) No NHL Home Ice on XM radio and no 60's music for longer than 10 minutes because he won't compromise on the music with me and will yell at me for liking music made in this decade. I told him that if he broke this rule, then I'd put my IPOD in my ears and ignore him. I didn't have to do this until we were on the way home (we started off at noon time and never got home until 7:30 PM.) I know.
3.) No talking about bills. This is one of his favorite topics. No matter how many times I tell him all the bills are paid (because we sit and pay them TOGETHER, mind you), he continues to ask me if they're all paid. He slipped up once which was pretty good for him considering on a bad day he'll ask me hourly (and surprisingly, the answer never changes!) I know!
Anyway, those were the basics because I didn't want to completely lose my sanity during an afternoon drive. We're scouting out land in the mountains to build a house in another year or so. Up until just recently I have fought going anywhere that felt too isolated and peaceful. I like being where the action and noise is. I like accessible shopping. But this place we've found feels a little like heaven and when I stand outside and look around I think that I could be happy there. It's the kind of place where I will be forced to be alone with my thoughts and deal with them head on instead of pushing them away until another day and I think that might be good for me. I hate moving with a passion but my husband loves moving especially if there is money is to be made. We are so totally opposite of one another it's not funny.
We had a great afternoon except for me getting a little car sick when we were whipping up and down roads in a neighborhood nestled deep in the mountains. I had to ask him to stop at a Rite Aid to get a package of Rolaids to settle my stomach. I hate being caught without Rolaids because you never know when you might need them.
I think I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving even though I didn't realize it's next week. I guess that means I need to get a turkey. It's just me, my husband and two of my kids because everyone else lives out of state. I cook all day then we sit down and in approximately 7 minutes everyone is finished and they up leave me with the mess.
I can hardly wait.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
All day Saturday
"Happiness is not a station you arrive at, but a manner of traveling." - Margaret B. Runbeck
My husband and I left for a "little drive up the road" at 11:00 AM this morning and didn't return until 7:30 PM this evening. It was an absolutely beautiful day. The leaves are just beginning to turn in the mountains up here and there was an Oktoberfest happening in one of the little towns. Everyone was drinking up a storm and seemed not to have a care in the world. We did some shopping, but mostly we drove around places we had never been before. My husband loves doing stuff like this and I have to be in the mood to go along because I know what I'm in for when I agree to go on a "little drive up the road." I take along whatever book I am reading at the moment, a magazine or two, and my IPOD for good measure because he likes the oldies and talk radio and I don't.
We went out to dinner and collected "homes for sale" books from all the places we passed through because he's always on the lookout for a new home even though I keep telling him I want to find a home where I know I will live forever. He's like a traveling gypsy and I am like a thousand year old tree whose roots dig so deep into the earth that you will never be able to move me. I keep going along with the moves because they have served us well financially, however that does not stop me from wanting to find one place where I can stay till the end of time.
We discussed my upcoming birthday and what I wanted. I gave him a few ideas and then he suggested that maybe he would get me a new vacuum so that we could give our old vacuum to our middle child for his apartment. I don't think so. I put the kibosh on that clearly-not-in-my-best-interest-present by telling him that vacuums are never presents and what is wrong with him for even suggesting something like that?
We're now watching the Red Sox and wishing them well.
My husband and I left for a "little drive up the road" at 11:00 AM this morning and didn't return until 7:30 PM this evening. It was an absolutely beautiful day. The leaves are just beginning to turn in the mountains up here and there was an Oktoberfest happening in one of the little towns. Everyone was drinking up a storm and seemed not to have a care in the world. We did some shopping, but mostly we drove around places we had never been before. My husband loves doing stuff like this and I have to be in the mood to go along because I know what I'm in for when I agree to go on a "little drive up the road." I take along whatever book I am reading at the moment, a magazine or two, and my IPOD for good measure because he likes the oldies and talk radio and I don't.
We went out to dinner and collected "homes for sale" books from all the places we passed through because he's always on the lookout for a new home even though I keep telling him I want to find a home where I know I will live forever. He's like a traveling gypsy and I am like a thousand year old tree whose roots dig so deep into the earth that you will never be able to move me. I keep going along with the moves because they have served us well financially, however that does not stop me from wanting to find one place where I can stay till the end of time.
We discussed my upcoming birthday and what I wanted. I gave him a few ideas and then he suggested that maybe he would get me a new vacuum so that we could give our old vacuum to our middle child for his apartment. I don't think so. I put the kibosh on that clearly-not-in-my-best-interest-present by telling him that vacuums are never presents and what is wrong with him for even suggesting something like that?
We're now watching the Red Sox and wishing them well.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Hugs
Every once in a while my husband will say to me, “You must not have been given enough hugs when you were growing up.” He says this because I am not a big hugger. I do not subscribe to the “you need 12 hugs a day to be happy” theory. I do not feel as though I need hugs in order to be happy, or know that I am loved.
But he is right, I did not receive a lot of hugs when I was growing up. The first time he said this to me, I felt really insulted because it felt like a judgment. Actually, it still feels like a judgment but it’s one I am able to accept as based in truth. I never connected my lack of hugging skills to my childhood until he brought it up. I got defensive because it hit a nerve. I felt like he was telling me that I was not a loving person because I do not go around shouting I LOVE YOU a million times a day or grabbing my children or him and insisting we hug the life out of each other. I find him really needy with all this hugging business and it irritates me because I am not needy in that way. It’s hard for me to understand what the big deal is about hugs.
You see, for me, a hug means nothing if five minutes later you’re on my case for not cleaning out the refrigerator. I’d much rather be shown love than be told I am loved. It’s the old “actions speak louder than words” routine that I live by and subscribe to.
This hugging thing has made me think about how much we are products of our upbringings. Our childhoods are spent soaking up information which shape us. We move through the world based on how we learned to live while we were growing up. If you haven’t been hugged a lot, you do not know that you should miss it or that you should do it regularly without being prompted or asked, which is what happens all the time with me.
I cannot pass by my husband without him saying he needs a hug. I have to consciously tell myself not to look annoyed or let out a big aggravated sigh because that’s my first thought when he keeps requesting them. I am thinking, “Don’t you see how I do everything for you and can’t you make the jump from that to knowing that I love you?” Because that’s what I do. I see the things he does and I instinctively know without being told that I am loved. A five second hug doesn’t change anything for me. It seems simple enough to me.
I worry, though, that maybe I have failed my children in the hugging department. I mean, just because I don’t require hugs doesn’t mean that others might not need them. And it's not like I never hug them, because I do--just not every single time they pass by me like it seems some people do. I trust that they know that love is more than words or hugs. It’s the day to day living and giving and nurturing which translate into love. I think back to my childhood and ask myself if my lack of hugs made me feel unloved and I can honestly say that no it did not.
I find hugging superfluous and have to force myself to hug all the time because it does not come naturally.
But that does not mean I love any less because I don’t.
But he is right, I did not receive a lot of hugs when I was growing up. The first time he said this to me, I felt really insulted because it felt like a judgment. Actually, it still feels like a judgment but it’s one I am able to accept as based in truth. I never connected my lack of hugging skills to my childhood until he brought it up. I got defensive because it hit a nerve. I felt like he was telling me that I was not a loving person because I do not go around shouting I LOVE YOU a million times a day or grabbing my children or him and insisting we hug the life out of each other. I find him really needy with all this hugging business and it irritates me because I am not needy in that way. It’s hard for me to understand what the big deal is about hugs.
You see, for me, a hug means nothing if five minutes later you’re on my case for not cleaning out the refrigerator. I’d much rather be shown love than be told I am loved. It’s the old “actions speak louder than words” routine that I live by and subscribe to.
This hugging thing has made me think about how much we are products of our upbringings. Our childhoods are spent soaking up information which shape us. We move through the world based on how we learned to live while we were growing up. If you haven’t been hugged a lot, you do not know that you should miss it or that you should do it regularly without being prompted or asked, which is what happens all the time with me.
I cannot pass by my husband without him saying he needs a hug. I have to consciously tell myself not to look annoyed or let out a big aggravated sigh because that’s my first thought when he keeps requesting them. I am thinking, “Don’t you see how I do everything for you and can’t you make the jump from that to knowing that I love you?” Because that’s what I do. I see the things he does and I instinctively know without being told that I am loved. A five second hug doesn’t change anything for me. It seems simple enough to me.
I worry, though, that maybe I have failed my children in the hugging department. I mean, just because I don’t require hugs doesn’t mean that others might not need them. And it's not like I never hug them, because I do--just not every single time they pass by me like it seems some people do. I trust that they know that love is more than words or hugs. It’s the day to day living and giving and nurturing which translate into love. I think back to my childhood and ask myself if my lack of hugs made me feel unloved and I can honestly say that no it did not.
I find hugging superfluous and have to force myself to hug all the time because it does not come naturally.
But that does not mean I love any less because I don’t.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
I can do anything for 24 hours
"A man sees in the world what he carries in his heart." - Johann Wolfgang Goethe, from "Faust"
When my husband works from home, I get nothing done that I really need to do. He makes phone calls and is loud and every little inconvenience is magnified to the point of ridiculousness and I just try to stay out of his way because I get "shushed" a lot and being "shushed" makes me just a little angry.
So that was my day today.
We did go out to lunch and that was nice and I got my run in so I don't feel like smacking anyone or screaming bloody murder.
He leaves tomorrow morning for three days.
I can't wait!
When my husband works from home, I get nothing done that I really need to do. He makes phone calls and is loud and every little inconvenience is magnified to the point of ridiculousness and I just try to stay out of his way because I get "shushed" a lot and being "shushed" makes me just a little angry.
So that was my day today.
We did go out to lunch and that was nice and I got my run in so I don't feel like smacking anyone or screaming bloody murder.
He leaves tomorrow morning for three days.
I can't wait!
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