Guilt

I haven't posted in a long time. This, I realize. While things have been humming along in my life, as always, I haven't felt particularly inspired to 'put pen to paper'.

Ironically, I started up this site as a means of purging my thoughts and maybe lessening the mommy-guilt load that all of us with offspring and who are of the X chromosomal variety experience, and in doing so, (tee hee) and not posting I have felt this cumbersome guilt hanging around my neck: I am not posting, hence my reader (singular) will become bored of my site, and fly far, far away. (I do have that bit of vanity, sorry to say)

A quick recap: Spring vacation--good, fast, over and done with; April: seductively waltzed into our lives like an innocent little lamb, only to sink its deadly lion-like fangs into our jugular and let us know that this spring will be a bumpy ride.

My Princess Peanut will soon be five years old. I'm majorly freaking out over this life milestone. She's in a preschool cum elementary school ecstasy "I'm going to be FIVE!" When did this happen? When did that yellow, squalling, doesn't want to eat and you can't make me, 5 lb. 12 oz. bundle of pain turn into a school age child?!? I'm utterly blown away.

We're planning her party for this Saturday at NWKC, so, I guess that means the games have begun. I know some people will think it a bit bourgeoisie for us to pay that much for her party, but let me tell you, the price is chump-change for the sanity! Last year we had her party at the carousel, and it was beautiful: the kids (the few who could make it) showed up, they rode the horses in circles enough times I wanted to puke, they ate cake, peanut ripped into the gifts, the mess stayed there, we went home to peace and quiet, voila! perfect.

For something new, and to (hopefully) take some of the focus off of the gluttony of gifts, we've decided to have a book exchange in lieu of gifts. I've requested each child who comes bring a gender-neutral, wrapped story book (not labeled to Peanut) and when we get to the 'open gifts' part each child will get a book to open--that way everybody gets to open a gift, and I get to get out of goody-bag duty! (I know its sneaky, its cheap, I love it!) I hope that this exchange works out well. Truthfully, Peanut doesn't need a single new toy, but I can't see her not getting to open something at her party, and I'm not so altruistic (yet! working on it...) that I can tell my daughter's guests to simply make a donation to a favored charity...so, maybe this plan works? I'll let you know. If you have any feelings, good or bad, please post a comment--I'd love to get some thoughts on the idea.

Well, it sounds as if my sweet little terrorists are waking/no longer content to play in their rooms, so I must sign-off. Having major daycare crisis right now--my poor dear babysitter has injured her back in some excruciating manner, and as of now: I have no back-up care, hence I am home from work today (B.J. was home yesterday) so among the many things I must do today, finding a backup daycare provider is pretty high up on the list. Sigh. It never ends.

Feeling lazy, feeling blue

I have really been lacking the desire to post lately. So, obviously, I haven't posted much. Duh. I know.

Good news: With my renewed efforts toward a healthier lifestyle I have almost made my first 10% weight loss goal. In my first week (which included quite a few flub-ups, and an unplanned trip to Izzy's to celebrate a birthday--yikes!) I managed to lose...drum roll please...a whopping 5.5 lbs.

Whoo-hoo!

I'm .5 lbs away from my first 10% goal: 6lbs.

I have a lot of weight to lose. If I look at the WHOLE-Bigger-than-life picture I'd just give up and sit down with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and mope while watching some sort of ultimately brain numbing chick-flick. So, to keep me from 'relapse' (as in succumbing to the FTW attitude, and fatalistic thinking that gets me stuck on the fast-track to increased fat cells and binging on whatever high-fructose, sodium laden, deep-fried concoction sure to make my serotonin levels even with those of a meth addict...) I'm looking at my first goal as losing a 'total' of 60 pounds.

Much more doable than the other number that I really am striving for.

5.5 lbs. isn't a whole lot. It wouldn't keep me above the yellow line on "BIGGEST LOSER" but it is a firm start. I'm also managing to maintain the attitude of 'get back on the horse' when I 'fall off' rather than subscribing to fallacious all-or-nothing thinking.

Chalk one up to me.

Now, on to the darker side of life.

Mentally, I'm struggling with Seasonal Affective Disorder. I've not received an official diagnosis of S.A.D., however, I suffer many of its symptoms. The peak of my 'blahs' coincides with the winter solstice--the shortest day of the year. I feel like a plant deprived of sunshine: I've withered (emotionally) into this lifeless, shapeless (figurative and literal--unless you count round for my shape. Ha!), blob who is lacking motivation most days to do anything. I want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. I don't want to do anything with anyone. I am just hoping to hit the 'fast forward' button a la Adam Sandler's movie CLICK. I go through this ever year. I have since I was a child...just my mother and I always chalked it up to missing Florida and the winter sunshine and flowers. Sigh. I can hardly wait for May sunshine and more daylight.

On the Autism spectrum: We've definitely been having our fair share (dare I say, more than fair share....as in the Lion's Share) of 'Autistic moments.'

Peanut has been irritable, defiant, tantruming, and tormenting her brother (and me) without end. I know it isn't her fault, and her psychiatrist concurs, the hoopla and lack of structure over the holidays put her over the edge. Heck, it puts typical kids (and most adults) over the edge. So, how could I expect anything different from someone with cognitive and sensory processing difficulties? Still, it doesn't make it any easier to deal with her. Even though I have a 'special needs child' it doesn't give me super-human strength, the ability to see through walls, or any more patience than having a typical child gives to any other parent. My patience still wears thin, and the decibel level of my voice soars ever heavenward. In truth, I've been ready to murder her. (only in thought---the same way we all say 'I'm going to kill you if you eat the last cookie, candy, chip, etc." ). One of the mentor moms at a MOPs meeting I once went to said something to the effect of:

"You're completely normal if you have the feeling that you'd like to
huck your child out the window. Every one of us feels like we would love to
just toss them out to escape the tantrums and difficult times. You're
normal. You're only abnormal if you never get frustrated with your child
or you actually do toss you kid out the window. Don't do that.
(all while smiling)."

This simple statement has saved me much guilt and shame. I'm normal. Lord, I'm so utterly normal, I'm the poster-child for normal. Ugh.

Chublet has been two. He acts two. He IS two. I don't really need to say much more. I remind myself, often, 'this too shall pass.'

Some introspection:

Going back to the lifestyle change, I have realized I am completely and totally obsessed with food. I figure I think about food approximately the same number of times a day as a red-blooded teenage-boy thinks about sex. Really. I think I am obsessing. Maybe that's one of the reasons why my weight has soared so high. I wonder what Freud would say (I'm glad he's dead...Dr.Phil is bad, I can only imagine how wonderful Freud would be...).

Things I'm looking forward to:

The return of normalcy to our daily schedule, and with it the return of a more sane and less psychotic little girl.

Continuing to renew my commitment (daily, hourly, minute-by-minute if need be) to my new healthier lifestyle.

Chublet eventually aging three-years-old (and my survival through his 'terrible two's').

Spring is coming. It is a long way out, but eventually the crocus will pop their periwinkle and opalescent heads though the snow and frost and herald the coming of new life and the return of sunshine.

Singles

After my last post, this one is a bit more light-hearted. *sighs of relief* Sometimes It is so cathartic to whine about something, get it out, and then move on. Anyhow...

B.J. and I got to experience life in the single lane. The single lane, you ask? Well, I'll tell ya--life sans fils for a whole weekend (right about here, you should be hearing the Hallelujah Chorus).

Yes. That's right. We spent an entire weekend ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy cow, Batman, would someone knock me upside the head with a Louisville Slugger to see if I'm dreaming?

A little background: (cue the violins) We have not had an entire weekend to ourselves in approximately 4 years, 2 months, 7 days and some hours, but who's counting? With the introduction of my beautiful little girl into our lives, we ceased to be a duo, and (duh) became a trio. Great, you say. Congratulations. You had a baby, feel special yet? Well, yes. We love having kids. I cannot imagine my life without them. However, every once in a while they get on ma' nerves. I did get a 'two day break' (thanks to B.J.'s aunt for watching the Peanut) when I gave birth to the Chublet--however I don't really count natural childbirth as a vacation. If you do, then I thoroughly recommend you see some sort of mental health professional because, clearly, your mind is warped or you're having a permanent acid-trip back flash. Seek help.

So, to continue on with our sob story, most folks have relatives who take their kids off of their hands once in a while (I have a dear friend who gets a week off from kids every couple of months, I love her, yet if pygmies attacked her and began to violently stab her with their tiny little spears I might hesitate jumping in to save her...just kidding. I'm happy she gets a break. I live vicariously through her). We would likely have said relatives, but we are, sadly, without grandmothers. Everyone knows grandmas are the ones who really love to take on the kids and spoil them utterly rotten and send the steaming carcasses of your children back to you acting like the wild children of Borneo (revenge, I gather?). But, not in our cases. Ma, why'd you have to go and meet our maker so soon?

Back to the present.

We had a whole weekend.

Alone.

For a short time I ran around in circles, blindly bumping into walls like a demented chicken with her head cut off.

I didn't quite know what to do with myself. B.J. with his zen-like demeanor calmed me down and suggested we go to a movie. A night time movie. So, we did. Just. Like. That. (scratching my head here, that is what we used to do all the time, if I remember correctly) We saw Pirates of the Caribbean: World's End [on a side note, Johnny Depp is just so beautiful]. Then, we went out for tapas and soda (If I'd had a beer I would have fallen asleep at the table-lame, I know. But, I don't generally stay up past 10:30pm on a late night). We sat there and ate our food in a leisurely manner. Talked quietly. Did not have to once threaten "If you aren't going to eat your food, we're going to go sit in the car while daddy and Chub-chub eat their dinners" (it sucks, but it works. I've only had to sit in the car with her a couple of times...). Who knew that boneless buffalo wings were ambrosia of the gods?

Saturday we woke up late (read: 7:00am), ate a lite breakfast at home, and then loaded up in the two-door sports car! YES!!! A two door Mitsubishi Eclipse. No mommy-van that seats 7 for us, instead we crammed ourselves (especially funny as B.J. is 6' 4" tall) into a tiny tuna-can on wheels and scooted to the coast. We drove from Lincoln City down to Florence. It was glorious. We sat in utter silence just absorbing one another's presence. We spent some time doing hikes in state parks and letterboxing, gaining like 11 stamps for the day (the best hike involved crawling along a downed tree below a section of HWY 101 that crossed a river--felt like we were Indiana Jones or something cool like that). We hiked up communication hill at Yaquina Head Lighthouse--what a spectacular view. The car almost got towed from the turnout that we parked at, even though there was no signage to prohibit it. We came down from our hike just in time to see the tow-truck pull up to take the car--a little bit of an adrenaline rush resulted in preventing the towing. It wound up 'all-good' with no mishaps. The lighthouse was gorgeous, and the views...for lack of better diction, utterly breath-taking.

We bummed around in little local shops here and there, full of trinkets and junk, read that as totally and completely inappropriate for kids to enter. It was fun. We even ventured into a glass float shop, chock full of finely blown glass floats, thin glass sculpture, and miscellaneous glass artworks--just because we could.
We didn't hit Florence until about 9:30pm, and decided to head across 126 to Eugene. It was a fun drive. B.J. got to pretend he was on the autobahn (or something) and test out how well the Eclipse held the corners (I do believe that there are little crescent-shaped indentations in the passenger side arm-rest from my death grip as we careened through the corners--yes, I'm a big 'ol baby when it comes to speed). By the time we hit Eugene we were famished and stopped at a favorite place for some appetizers (was way too late for a heavy meal) to fortify us for our hour drive home.

We finally crashed, in our own bed, at about 12:30am. I hadn't been out that late in ages, and could barely keep my eyes open. It is funny to think that I used to stay out until 2, 3, 4am on a regular basis before we had kids. I could do it, I suppose, since I could sleep-in the next day until noon (aah...such memories. Now-a-days I consider 6:30am sleeping in. Ha ha.).

We concluded our weekend as singles by one last-ditch effort at romance--Sunday breakfast out, alone. The coffee was good, the food was sub-par (what I get for letting B.J. indulge in choosing a greasy spoon to eat at...) but it was the company that I was after. It was so nice, again, to eat our food s-l-o-w-l-y, look at one another and just 'be.'

I truly enjoyed the weekend. Big thanks to our friends K & P for taking on the monumental task of watching our rug rats. You allowed us to renew our spirits, our friendship, and get a much needed recharge. It, as I said to a friend of mine, is amazing what being on-call for 4 years straight can do to you. We so completely and totally needed this recharge. We're blessed to have good friends who love our kids and were willing to take them so we could be better parents and a better husband and wife to each other. And-gulp-they said they want to take the kids again for us, at least once, before the end of summer...

Hmm, I'm thinking this time (God and our friends willing it happens) maybe B.J. and I can fire-up our motorcycles....

Post-it / Rant-it

The Peanut celebrated her 4th Birthday on the 28th of April. I cannot believe that she's already 4--that I have been in charge of the growth, development, love, and nurturing of another human being for 4 years. I. Have. Been. A. Parent. For. Four. Years.

Wow.

In a nutshell, her birthday party was great. She had a blast. [I'll post pictures. Later.] I can't ask for more than that.

Other than I was a schmuck and forgot to mail one (if not more than one) invitation and left someone special feeling left out. I feel crappy about it. It also made me annoyed at B.J. He has done absolutely 0 beyond the barest minimum to help me out with her party/health issues/etc. lately.

It is annoying.

Like I can reasonably organize:
The Chub-chub; the house (cleaning, shopping, groceries, laundry.....); my job, the three separate Grant proposals that I've been working on at the same time; Peanut's doctor appointments, her therapist, the research study she involved with, her medications(S!!! as in plural); a marriage; planning a party; and maintain sanity without help!?

Yeah. Right.

It could be worse. At least Peanut had a great B'day.