HEELS

This morning I realized that Cole has me down pat. The kid is a natural mimic, anyway, and it's no shock that he knows what I sound like, seeing as he hears me more everyday than anyone but his daycare lady.

This morning he said "I said No" with the inflection and emphasis exactly where I put it. It was like listening to myself, only with a higher voice. I was stunned and I didn't respond. Perhaps I should have replied as he does these days: "I said Yes." Or maybe that's not really the example I want to set. Yeah- probably not.

The other day I was trying to do something very frustrating around him and realized that I was muttering "fuck" every couple of minutes sort of under my breath. I haven't heard that one back yet, but I'm still waiting.

I'm really ready to be finished with this week. As Cole would say, "I can't like it." I think that sums it up quite accurately.

Though, one good thing I have just realized- I have a way to get my work to pay for my trip to BlogHer. We recently introduced a spot-bonus program, and already I have my card (worth $100) filled out. I'm halfway there, baby, and with a month and a half (or so) to go! Of course I'm tempted to use it to buy shoes, but I'll be good. I really really want to go to BlogHer, and with my conference fees paid for and a (really awesome) roommate pretty much set up, I don't want to jeopardize it for shoes. I know- I've grown so these past few years.

See! I have my happy face on today. Sure, it's a face that was too tired for makeup, and yes, I probably could stand to suck it up and use some visene already, and darnit, I really thought my teeth were a little whiter than that, and straighter (fucking worthless orthodontist), but inside I'm doing alright. It was a 24 hour bummer bug, I guess, not to be confused with a 24 hour bum bug. Very different, though neither much fun.

And my eyes always look that crazy. I just can't help it.

Not depression in a clinical sense, that is, and why I feel like it trivializes real depression to try to compare it to that by calling it the same thing:

It's not constant.

My "depression" comes and goes. I don't see anyone for it, and I don't take drugs. It can last a couple of days, but usually no more than a week, and it is monthly at its most frequent.

On my "good days" I feel fine. My happiness is not a front, and I genuinely take joy in the world.

I have never contemplated suicide.

For those major reasons, I don't feel like it's clinical depression, and I don't feel the need to see anyone or medically control it. Would I like it to stop? Absolutely. Am I willing to go back on an anti-depressant to do it? Absolutely not. If it were something that overshadowed the majority of my life, or something that was significantly affecting my family, then I would be willing to seek help, but I don't think I'm anywhere near that now. I'm not discounting the helpfulness of doctors or medicine, I just don't feel that it's necessary at this point for me.

Today just feels... difficult. It's too much trouble; not worth the effort.

I'm feeling a loss where no loss exists, and so also feeling confused and stupid about what I'm feeling.

I'm rolling into one of my depressions. It's not depression in a clinical sense. Rather, it feels like an actual depression, like a bowl-shaped dip. At the bottom it's lonely and cold and sad, but it takes too much effort to roll back up the other side. I don't have the momentum.

It's at this point when I always feel like a friend could help me out, help me skirt the edge. Instead, not having friends like that, I feel even more alone and roll in even faster.

I started crying last night as I was putting Cole to bed. It was a stupid thing that set me off, and something that ordinarily would have made me laugh.

I haven't cried today, but I have that feeling on my throat, and my eyes feel swollen as if I had been.

I have 5 hours of sick-time coming to me, but I feel like I need to reserve them for a real sick day. I have no vacation time. In fact, I have managed, somehow, to get negative vacation time. Not sure how that works...

I wish we got mental health time.

I'd probably leave, but I don't know what to do with myself except go home and sleep, and that feels like a waste.

I was all set to blast C&H sugar for what I just saw on their bag the other night, but then I though I might look into it a bit first. Y'know- to avoid looking like an ass (which I can rarely avoid anyway).

I'm glad I did.

See, this is what I saw, and the editor in me had a little fit:






But, you see, I didn't realize until just 5 minutes ago, when I decided to Google it just for the hell of it, that "Share Our Strength" is a charity helping hungry children.

Oops.

So C&H is right after all, though I still think they could have phrased it better for those of us (okay- maybe just ME) who don't (didn't) know about "Share Our Strength." I mean, I can't be the only one, can I?

I run a monthly contest for the company I work for. This month we have a "Lightning Round" because we have only 6 days to complete it. I sent an email to the entire company about the contest, but then had to follow it with this:

Spell-Check- A Cautionary Tale

Just because Spell-Check accepts a word does not mean that it is actually the word you want. Take, for example, the email I just sent out. In it, I used the word "lightening"- typing quickly and relying on Spell-Check to help me out. No errors registered, and I moved on.

However, R.C. felt that something looked a bit "off" about my spelling and decided to check for himself.

For the record, I meant "Lightning," as in "an discharge of electricity which typically occurs during thunderstorms, and sometimes during volcanic eruptions or dust storms." I did not mean "Lightening," as in "the process or time during late pregnancy when the fetal head begins to descend into the mother's pelvis, resulting in a lessening of pressure on the diaphragm."

Sorry about that. Lesson learned.

I tried to start reading "V for Vendetta" (graphic novel) last night, but I just couldn't get into it. It's not that I dislike the story- in fact, it made me want to go watch the movie. No, I just have a really difficult time with the graphic novel format. There's too much too look at, the "type" is hard for me to read, and I get all turned around when trying to follow the little boxes of dialogue. If the story catches me enough, I suffer the ocular discomfort and read anyway, but "V" was just not doing it.

But perhaps the thing that stopped me the most is that I read the introduction, which said something to the effect of "if you are the kind of person who turns off the news, this book is not for you." I am that kind of person. I hate the news, and live happily without it. If that excludes me, so be it. I have better things to do, anyway.

I love the song Dona Nobis Pacem. I always have. Though it is a hymn, and was originally a separate, final movement of Bach's Mass in B Minor, I find nothing religious about it. It's a beautiful, simple sentiment sung to a beautiful, simple melody, and, sung as a round, is somehow more than the sum of its parts.

It's interesting to me that it is a hymn and was originally in a religious context, because I have always felt, as I sang it, that it was like a mantra or, for lack of a better word, a prayer. But it's a humanist prayer when I sing it- a wish for Peace for all beings in the world, and a Peace that we can give to each other, not one handed down from a god.

When I sing it, I feel as if I'm singing a protective blanket into being, as if no un-peaceful thing can happen in the time that I am singing to those who can hear my song. It's a beautiful feeling, and I often sing to myself in times of stress or discomfort. It is both the prayer and the answer to it in one.

But, as I sang it to Cole the night before last (as it is his favorite night time song), something happened that made the song more beautiful to me than any song has ever been; made my "prayer" stronger than I've ever felt it. It was so strong, in fact, that it almost took my breath away and made it difficult for me to continue singing.

Cole sang with me.

He did not sing well, but he sang earnestly, and it was one of the most wonderful and glorious things I have ever heard. And I'd like to believe that, for those few moments anyway, all was right with the world.




(Not great, because she doesn't sing all the parts, but the strings should give you an idea of this song, if you didn't know it before. Maybe one day I'll record myself and Cole.)

So, in my vanity, I posted a picture of myself on FaceStat. I know it's vain because they told me so. I think it's fascinating. As for the facts, there's only one that I know for sure they got wrong. My political affiliation is NOT moderate and would never be described as such. I am a flaming liberal, pretty much full-stop. However, I am married, my weight is average, I am 28, white, female, and was sober still at that point in the evening (it was early), so they weren't all wrong. Go check it out- it's pretty damn amusing.

We've been sidling toward toilet training with Cole, somewhat as one would if one was trying to collar a potentially rabid dog. We are nervous about making too big a deal about it and calling attention to our efforts but, at the same time, it needs to happen. I'm looking forward to the days of no more diapers, though I realize the days of expecting no accidents and competent and thorough ass wiping are still years hence.

To this end, we've been pushing our luck and letting him be in "big-boy" underpants for a time before bed. So far, we've had a couple of pee accidents and one poo- no more than we really expected. The last couple of times he's stayed dry the whole time, which I don't know if I should attribute to his greater awareness or dehydration (he's not REALLY dehydrated, just sometimes doesn't drink that much in the evening).

On the suggestion of our daycare provider, we have not purchased a potty, and instead invite Cole to sit on the normal toilet (her reasoning is that they won't get a potty anywhere but at home, so they should get used to a normal toilet as soon as possible, which is logical, I suppose). The problem with this is that Cole is totally uncomfortable on the toilet, and has yet to actually pee or poop while there. Ever. This leaves me wandering around after him in the house, watching for signs that he may have to go and regularly feeling the front of his undies to check for pee. Such fun! Or... not.

So tell me- in your experience, do kids figure it out eventually (like, before kindergarten?) or should we break down and buy a damn potty already? Any tips?

...You need to see the shoes!!

We have a VERY firm policy of not hitting/spanking Cole. Ever. John and I were both spanked as children and we feel that it did nothing to make us better behaved, and everything to make us feel like hitting is a way to solve problems. We both had trouble with fighting as kids (though only when provoked), and I wonder if it had anything to do with the hitting we saw demonstrated at home. The ONLY time I see it as an acceptable measure is if the child's actions would have led to serious harm coming to themselves or to another. Only then it is a logical consequence.

But yesterday... ooohh boy, yesterday tried my resolve.

Cole has a supernumerary tooth, which I believe I've mentioned in the past. Because of this, we have to take him to a special pediatric dentist. However, because we also live in the middle of Senior Citizen/Nowheresville, we have to travel over an hour to get to his dentist. Which sucks. As if having to pay for a special dentist wasn't enough, I also have to take half a day off work to go...

Anyway.

We had to leave before Cole's normal lunch (breaking routine), and, though I can vouch for the fact that his bean/cheese/rice burrito was especially delicious, he was having just about none of it, instead insisting to me every 5 seconds that he MUST have apple juice and NOW please. So, no lunch was ingested - at least, not enough to make a difference.

So he slept on the way down, had his juice (SUGAR!!), and was a precious doll for the Dentist. He even made it through a full cleaning, which shocked the hell out of the Technician. He collected his toy and sticker prizes and we went on our merry way.

And then I had the GALL to go into a store to look at shoes.

He was happy enough at first, trying on all the ladies' shoes (too funny to watch him trying to walk in open-back heels with the plastic security tie still connecting them), but when he wouldn't hold my hand or stay next to me in the line to pay, the shit hit. And by 'shit' I mean Cole.

He screamed and screeched in my arms, first hitting and kicking me, then head-butting me when I pinned his arms. There was no way to put him in time out, there was no way I could just walk away. I had to hold him, pinned and pissed, until I completed my transaction and could walk out. And I wanted, at that moment, to slap him back, just to show him how it felt.

But I didn't, and he had calmed down by the time we got to the car. We had a chat about his horrible behavior and we went on with our day, which turned out pretty nicely afterall. And I felt better because all I had to endure was the embarrassment of having "that toddler" for a little while in front of people I don't know and will probably never see again, instead of the crushing guilt I would have felt for hitting him.

And it was worth it, because I also came away with a pair of bright red, patent, slingback, wedge-heel Kenneth Cole heels. And shiny red shoes make everything a little better.

I have a delicious love/hate relationship with Tom Waits (or, at least, his music and persona, seeing as I don't ACTUALLY know Tom Waits and I'm not sure I'd want to) that I think is exactly the kind of relationship one should have with Tom Waits. But whatever my feelings about him may be, there is no denying his brilliance, or how fantastically wonderful this video is:


You have to watch it and bow to him just a little, even if you think he's the most wretched being on earth (though, how could you? I mean- there's always the President, for example, who will win the 'Most Awful Human' award before many others, dear Tom included). Watch it. Really.

I don't think I've EVER fallen in love with a purse before in my whole life. Until now. Holy jeebus- I WANT THAT PURSE!!