I leave at 4 am tomorrow for a conference in San Diego. I will be without John and Cole until Saturday night. It makes me tired and sad to think of it. I will not likely have a computer and connection to be able to visit you all, so I’ll return on Monday. Have a great week.
Cole has been utterly obsessed with the Disney movie Tarzan lately. He would watch it over and over all day if we let him (we, of course, do nothing of the sort). He walks like Tarzan, yodels like Tarzan, and now asks to listen to my heart like Tarzan does to his Gorilla mom. And it’s a cute movie, and could be SO much worse. I mean, at least he no longer asks to watch Freakazoid, which has been forbidden in my house until he’s much older.
But I hate it. I hate when he wants to watch it, and I frequently have to leave the room when it’s on. And it’s all because of one damn song.
For one so small, you seem so strong
My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm
This bond between us can’t be broken
I will be here don’t you cry
And you’ll be in my heart
Yes, you’ll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
You’ll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You’ll be here in my heart
It gets me right from the start, and doesn’t let the heart-crushing stop until long after the actual song is over. I am VERY rarely ever affected by songs or movies, but this one gets me every freaking time. And I sob- OH, do I sob. Ugly, snotty, weeping, shaking sobs. Even thinking about it makes me choke up and my eyes start to tear. I don’t want to let this stupid song get to me so, but I am powerless.
I cry for the mothers I know who have lost a child. I cry for my mother, and how she must be feeling about me not being so happy with her right now. I cry for babies who have lost their mothers, and babies who have found new mothers*. And I cry for myself, because part of being a good mother, to me, is knowing when to step back, when to let go, when to not protect with everything I have, and that is so fucking hard and hurts so much EVERY DAY. Because if I thought I could, that it would make Cole’s life better, I would keep him with me and protect him in every way possible until I die.
But, of course, I can’t. And I won’t. Because Cole is not just my baby, he’s also his own person, and it is a wonderful thing, indeed.
*(That’s a happy thing, but I cry all the same)
My review of Torchwood.
You will like Torchwood if you liked Dr. Who but thought “You know what this needs? No sense of humo(u)r and lots more fucking. Oh and the actors should occasionally have a nosh on the scenery when they’re feeling a bit peckish.”
(I did ask, however, if we could possibly skip to the episode where Captain Jack and James Marsters (Spike) get it on. Because, dude… HOT.)
I know I’m not the only one who does this, but each month, right around the end of the second week, I obsess about pregnancy “symptoms.” I sift through the same dumb sites over and over, each time hoping (and knowing it will never happen) to find The One SIGN that will let me know two weeks in advance that I’m pregnant. Dumb sites where the forum questions are something like “if i had sex with my boyfreind standing up culd i be pregnat?” Because of course- I WILL FIND WISDOM HERE.
But the symptoms are always the same: sore boobs, aching lower abdomen, fatigue, frequent urination, blahblahblah- all, quite handily, also symptoms of PMS. In other words: NOT HELPFUL.
So I try to talk myself into forgetting about it until at least a day after I should have gotten my period, a feat far easier said than done. I distract myself with work and blog reading and home life. But, in those quiet moments that always come, my boobs still hurt and I still wonder if this time they are forecasting something good.
I try not to be superstitious, but I sort of have a “thing” for patterns. So please bear with me a moment while I lay something out here. Sorry- it’s a little (or maybe a lot) dumb.
Cole’s due date was October 24th. That also happened to be the 10th anniversary of the first date John and I went on. He ended up being born the next day.
Now, if I get pregnant this month, the estimated due date would be in late June. Late June happens to be 1)John’s (30th!) birthday and 2) Our (8th) wedding anniversary.
The first kid on our first date, the second on the day we married.
How fucking cool would that be?
I just added buttload of bellydance and yoga exercise dvds to our Netflix queue. It’s not that I feel like I’m particularly fat right now (actually, I generally feel pretty good), but I feel like I need to be more active for my general health, including mental.
Ever since the bellydance classes here in town went kablooie, I haven’t really found a replacement. I go home, make dinner (when I don’t feel completely drained and unmotivated), and read or play quiet games with Cole until his bedtime. Then I read some more or watch a movie before bed. On weekends we get out a bit more, but it’s just around the house work- nothing that gets my heart pumping significantly.
And I’m not unhappy about all of this. I’m still looking fine- I haven’t been eating a lot, though still plenty enough to be healthy. I love reading, and I love playing games with Cole, but I still feel like I should be doing something more active.
Because when I’m active, I feel more motivated in all aspects of my life. I think more clearly and do better at work. It feels really good.
And I don’t own a bike, don’t own a kayak or live near enough to a lake/bay, and have always felt dumb driving somewhere to walk (our neighborhood is small and bordered by a road that has no sidewalk or shoulder). We don’t quite have the funds to have a gym membership, and there’s no gym on this side of town anyway. The yoga classes are pretty much all designed for people who don’t work 8-5 every weekday.
When we got our new tv, we moved our old tv into our bedroom, which is fine because we don’t get any channels and so won’t be tempted to stay up late watching it or anything. We do all of our tv (movie) viewing in the living room. But I got a little $20 dvd player to hook up to it anyway, just in case.
So as soon as I have those dvds, every other night or so you’ll be able to find me, locked in my room, trying to jiggle back my motivation. Wish me luck.
I made this:
moar funny pictures
I thought it was funny, even if no one else did.
I’m not an intensely political person. I vote, and I like to be educated on the issues, but I don’t actively campaign for candidates or contribute financially.
Until this year.
Now, until he entered this race, and particularly up until he nominated Palin as his VP, I didn’t really have a huge problem with McCain. In fact, if it were McCain of a few years ago and he were sans Palin, I wouldn’t be all that upset if he won. Sure, I’d never vote for him (unless I REALLY hated the Dem nominee), but I wouldn’t have cried if he won, either. But now? With the McCain of today combined with Palin? I may not just cry, I may move out of the country. I have more fear of that poisonous combination than I have ever felt in connection with a presidential election. I think that a McCain/Palin administration would be like Bush II: Electric Boogaloo- four more years of Bush bullshit with an extra special, conservative, constitution and personal freedoms-smashing twist.
At the same time, I have more hope than I’ve ever felt for a presidential candidate in Obama. I never expect a perfect president, but I believe that Obama may be exactly what we need right now. We don’t need someone who thinks it’s a positive point that he’s been in war- we need someone who is a COMMUNITY leader. We need to re-establish ourselves as respectable in the global community. We also need someone who can think outside of the tactics that have been used in the last 7 years (because, really- has it been working THAT WELL? Seriously?). I believe that Obama is that person this time. So much so that I actually got off of my relatively apathetic ass and drove to the Democratic headquarters to buy an Obama/Biden bumper sticker. That’s a major first for me. I’m also sporting an Obama pin and have recently been given two Obama shirts, one of which I will be cutting down to fit Cole. Because, dammit- as long as he’s all young and oblivious, I’m going to dress him as my adorable billboard as much as I please. He can have his own opinions when I’m no longer wiping his ass.
(And that may be the last you hear about politics here for a while.)
And now for something that makes me happy every single day. Well, someBODY, I guess- not someTHING.
Did I ever post this? I can’t remember. This fantastic tiger hat was given to Cole by our dear friends green apron monkey and the girl. They brought it back from their trip to China. Currently, it resides on the head of Kermit the Frog, and I don’t think he’s ever looked more rakish and handsome.
I should have made that more clear- that letter was not about my husband. In fact, he has been wonderful and supportive. No, that letter was sent to my mother.
My mother and I have never quite seen eye-to-eye. We are, as she has always so helpfully pointed out, very different people. I still love her. I can’t see not loving her. But she has done and said some things both through my life and in very recent history that have made me not really like being around her much. I don’t have a lot of respect for her right now. I have finally told her a lot of the things that I have wanted to say for years, and she hasn’t really liked hearing them, not that I expected her to. I didn’t especially like saying them.
She calls me judgmental, and I agree. However, I have a different opinion of what that means. To me, every human that has ever lived and will ever live is judgmental. To live is to judge, to make choices, to have opinions. Yes, I have opinions. Yes, I have standards. In fact, I have standards that I am not willing to bend for anybody. Being an atheist, I have very personal morals and ethics, and reasons for having them that are very important to me. They did not get handed to me from a book or a church, they were developed by me and for me, and if you understand the depth of my willfulness, you’ll get an idea of the strength of my convictions.
I’m not asking my mother to comply with my ethical guidelines in order to be around me, but neither am I going to pretend that her choices don’t bother me. If she were just hurting herself, I would be upset but not so disappointed. But I see the others she is hurting, and her willingness to do so goes against what I believe is right.
My mother needs help, in my opinion. She has fallen into a pattern that, I think, is not healthy for her. And, like I said, I love her and want to see her get better. But getting “better” is up to her, and she can’t and won’t take steps until she realizes that there’s something wrong, which may never happen. She doesn’t see anything wrong with her behavior at this time.
I hope that my mom and I can continue to have a good relationship, but that’s hard to predict at this time. Time heals a lot, in my experience, but may not be enough here. I am partly to blame for not speaking up sooner. These things should never be allowed to fester.
It’s out in the open now, and HOO-boy does it hurt.
A glimpse at the bullshit I’ve been dealing with for too long. I’m so tired of this. (I wrote this letter, it was not to me.)
I have tried to be honest and answer questions you asked. Are you asking me to forget everything that you do that I disagree with every time? Part of love, to me, is knowing what is anomalous to someone’s behavior and forgiving and forgetting those actions, and knowing when that behavior has taken over and being the “asshole” that points it out. I have heard what you’ve said, and I really thought we were moving toward understanding each other better. I will say hurtful things to you, but ONLY when I really feel they are true. I have no reason to exaggerate or lie. I’m not asking you to defend yourself- I don’t need that from you. It seems like defending yourself is all you’ve done. Have YOU heard what I’VE said, instead of just being hurt by it? All of us being quiet and polite about our feelings is part of what led to this crap in the first place, so I won’t continue it- not when I feel there are still things to be worked out.
I know that your intentions weren’t bad. I know that you are human and make mistakes. I know the same about myself. I still get the feeling, though, that you aren’t willing to take responsibility for the parts you’ve played and the decisions you’ve made in your life. You aren’t just acted upon.
I know you love me, and I don’t know why you’d indicate that you think I don’t. I love you too.
Maybe I’m an asshole. Maybe I’m wrong. But this is how I feel right now. Apparently you’re not ready to hear what I have to say. Maybe it hurts and maybe you don’t want to respond because it’s too true. I don’t know.
I don’t really know what to say from here.