That Girl Lost Her Sway

•January 29, 2010 • 1 Comment

Today I decided I wanted to practice the piano; I’ve stunk lately.  I sat down and started playing.  After a half an hour I was so frustrated!  Bits of music that had always come very easily to me were jumpy and stilted.  I was tense and angry.  I had started to internally chastise myself for being such a shitty pianist; then I stopped and realized what I was doing.  I wouldn’t have thought the playing were horrid if I’d heard it coming from someone else.  I corrected that thought and reminded myself that I am a capable and somewhat accomplished pianist.  It passed through my mind that I needed to relax and let my fingers go where they knew to go.  I needed to trust myself.  When I began again I felt a peace wash over me.  The songs were flowing out the way I remember them.  My shoulders relaxed and I felt myself drifting.  I love that floaty carefree feeling!

Evidently I just needed a boost of confidence in myself.  I wanted to test the change, so when Husband returned home from work I sat down to play.  I relaxed and told myself I could play beautifully.  I made a quarter of the mistakes I usually make when someone is listening to me play (I always bomb songs when I think someone can hear me playing – I panic)!  I’m very satisfied this evening.  Husband even noticed the difference.

Oldest is working on her science project.  She’s growing crystals to show how stalagmites and stalactites form.  I’m happy it’s actually all her project; minimal advice from me.  I’m proud of her.

Youngest began gymnastics again today.  She’s a natural.  The teacher used her as an example of how to do a round off.  She nailed it, beaming at me.  Very proud of this kiddo too.

I’m totally sore from the exercise yesterday.  It’s between good-work-out pain and damn-it-that-hurts pain.  I’m going to let myself recover then try it again on Monday.

I’m so excited about my new found confidence.  I have my sway!


Driven Like the Snow

•January 28, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Is not what I am….obviously.  Where did all my drive go?  I think it drove off without me.

I’ve been having symptom issues that were bad enough that I didn’t feel like sitting at the computer at all.  Yucky.  Boring to write about.

Tonight I’ve been playing (piano) from “Boys for Pele” and my fingers feel so tired!  I’m learning “Caught a Lite Sneeze” and am struggling with the beginning of the song.  Getting my pinky and fourth finger to play the d and e flat while using my thumb and first finger to play f and g is tricky as all hell!  Just reinforces that Tori is unbelievably talented and amazing.  I love love “The Doughnut Song” so I’ve been playing that too.

Earlier today I was playing “Fast Horse” from “Abnormally Attracted to Sin”.  The way the beat evolves intrigues me.  Wonderful!  So much fun to play.  That and “Mary Jane”.

I try to start at the beginning of any of Tori’s album books and just play the whole thing.  All started and finished the way it should be.  I lose track of time and just enjoy myself.

I have a joke that makes me giggle.  First, for context, listen to this song:  Lady Gaga.

Q:  How do you wake up Lady Gaga?

A:  P-P-P-Poke her face, p-p-p-poke her face.

My kiddo brought that joke home.  I love it!

And now for fun, Mr. Christopher Walken reading “Poker Face”.

Wait I Forgot

•January 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

It’s so hard to remember to write everyday!  If I do remember, it’s been after midnight, so it wouldn’t have shown up on the proper day.  I suppose that I’m not fulfilling my first goal due to not fulfilling the second; if I were sitting down and writing right when I thought of it (being serendipitous) then the writing would happen.  Satisfying one satisfies the other!

I’m reading a book that is helping me with some cognitive behavioral therapy.  So far I’ve found it quite interesting.  It’s helping guide some of my choices on how I spend my time.  I’m determined to be happy this year.  More ambitious.  Kicking my self esteem in the ass, waking it up a bit.

We packed up Christmas this afternoon.  Within two hours our home went from cheery winter presents are awesome cinnamon baking to suburban home family pictures candle normal decor.  The transition always leaves me a bit out of sorts.  Change doesn’t resonate well with me.  I’ll do it, but I hate it.

I went to see “It’s Complicated” with my friends to celebrate the birthdays of myself and Teabag (long story) last Thursday.  It was funny.  I liked it.  My only observation is that I disliked the way the children responded to their parents affair.  Driving off and leaving Mom totally alone in the middle of the night solves nothing.  Spoiled shits.

Oh!  So I should share the long story about how I’ve come to call my dear friend “Teabag”.  Well, on Thursday we were sitting at lunch and said friend orders a soda and states that she’d love to have tea, since she loves it.  As a matter of fact, she loves tea so much she should be nicknamed “Teabag”.  I started laughing immediately.  So did our other lunch companion.  We were dying.  Teabag?  Really?

Dear friend didn’t understand why we were laughing, so we explained that teabag is another word for putting a scrotum in a persons mouth and moving it in/out, up/down as the way of the teabag.

Hilarious.  Sitting at our table, I found this at urban dictionary (number 7) which you can go read on your own, or read here (please note that I couldn’t find an authors name, so I hope not to offend):

The scrotum, much like the tea bag, is a pouch that is used specifically as a means of convenient storage. The tea bag is to tea-leaves as the scrotum is to testicles. Now most people would come to the consensus that the scrotum is not the most attractive aspect of the male form, and that it should be hidden from view at all times because of its offensive appearance and function. Whenever the scrotum comes out of hiding, people tend to take notice. Imagine a scenario in which you and your close associates are out drinking all night and having a gay old time. Also imagine that you have a friend named Greg, who in light of his low tolerance for alcohol, proceeds to act like a total dilweed for most of the evening, and his night reaches its climax when he passes out. (Note: Greg has passed out with his shoes still on, making him fair game.) You and your friends decide that Greg should be punished for his capriciousness, and one friend-let’s say his name is Jarvis- suggests that “we should tea-bag him!” As has remained constant since the colonial days of tar and feathers, mob mentality prevails. Everyone praises Jarvis for his idea, which seems brilliant in the context of inebriation, and they suggest that he have the honor of performing the deed. Jarvis walks over to the incapacitated Greg, and proceeds to unzip his jeans. He delicately exposes his scrotum and slowly descends, hovering above Greg until he finally allows his junk to come to rest gently on Greg’s face. Applause.

We giggled like teenagers.  It was great.

So.  Good.  I did find things to write.  There it is, right there.  I just have to sit down and do it.

Maybe Not

•January 5, 2010 • Leave a Comment

So here we are at the new year.  My resolution last year was to write an entry here everyday.  Obviously I didn’t achieve that particular goal.  The question is, did I successfully achieve any of the goals I’d set for last year?  Yes!  I have not shouted at my children or Husband.  Now I may raise my voice a bit, but I don’t yell.  I really have enjoyed the results of more peace in my house and being heard; no one is blocking out noise.

This year it seems only proper to set new goals.

1.  Write in this blog every day starting today (even if it’s one word).

2.  Be spontaneous!

The second goal is going to really help me.  I have come to the conclusion that illness prevents me from scheduling anything.  I almost always have a conflict when I’ve scheduled with friends; I’m going to call them as soon as I know I’m okay, instead of waiting and missing the fun.

As a teenager I loved being spontaneous.  As an adult, not so much.  After I had my first baby I learned quickly that my flutter by life was going to have to change.  Meals at set times, sleeping, shopping, thinking at set times.  Schedules everywhere!  The change will really help me get out of the house more often.  Hopefully it will ease my guilty feelings of being a bad friend, because I will see people more often.

I had my birthday in December, so now I’m thirty-three.  I love the number.  It’s pretty to look at.  I’m getting old enough now that I hope my life will get less complicated.  I’ve had a year to adjust to having Interstitial Cystitis and Fibromyalgia (illnesses identified, not onset of symptoms).  Life has certainly changed.

This new year I hope will be calm and uneventful.  I want to be secure.  I want to have a stable environment in which to treat my illness and care for my family.

I wish the same for everyone else; a stable life as worry free as possible.

Happy New Year!

BlanketGirl style – Five days late!  Hee!

The Moon is in the Street

•December 6, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Wow.  My first night out in so long!

My day started out unusually pallor and longish.  I sent the children off to a birthday party at around two, I was tired and couldn’t possibly accompany them.  I had battled out the morning trying to decide if I had the strength to deal with the laundry.  IC symptoms have been swelling and heaving.  In the end the symptoms won, so the children walked to the end of the block without me.  This is would be the first gathering at this particular household that  I wouldn’t participate in.

At around 6:30p, I started to feel some improvement.  I needed to pick up the kiddos, so I put on my slippers and jumped in the car.  I arrived, and found that it was fairly empty as all the other guests had already left.  It was only me and my two good friends, Comfy and Smarty Pants.  My conservative good judgment lost and I ended up staying put and drinking a beer with my said good friends.

Later Husband joined us.  I loved it!  We talked politics and religion, all things I love to discuss but can’t usually trust in polite company.  We talked about objectivism and the impact of morals on politics and general thinking.

Hooray!  I’m still a functioning grown up!

We won another play date with our good friends, and I can’t wait for it.  This illness has sucked away my life; sometimes the essence of me.  I am a person with thoughts and ideas.  My illness and lack of being out in the world doesn’t make those thoughts go away.

My thought tonight is that if anyone out there has a chronically ill friend, please, please call them.  Say hello.  Ask if they want to talk about anything and everything.

Life is so lonely without friends.

Can Take Only So Much

•November 6, 2009 • Leave a Comment

My pain has been rearing it’s ugly head in full force.  While I was in England, I started to feel it like it was before things were put under partial control with the narcotic pain meds.  Sleeping has become a chore, and I can’t move around much.  Even sitting at the computer is exhausting.  My shoulders, elbows and wrists cramp up making most tasks close to impossible.  I get wiped out taking a shower.  The one thing I can do is smile and talk.  It helps me to not think about my pain when I’m talking, so I’ve been on the phone with friends a lot.

Today I decided the only way to combat this was to try and ignore it.  Before when I’d want a distraction, I knew that my politeness would override my pain; so if I could be in a social situation things would be easier.  My good friend called and invited me to do a bit of Christmas shopping with her.  I thought this was a good plan.

Despite my agony, I had to get out of the house.  I met up with her around eleven.  At first, everything seemed okay.  I was achy, but I’d taken my pain meds and done an instillation.  We made it through the first store when friend, out of the blue, rubbed my back and cinched her eyebrows together, “Seriously sweetie, if you’re not okay let’s get you home.  We can do this another time.”

My plan wasn’t working.

I assured her everything was fine; we should keep going.  One more hour wouldn’t kill me.

We went to lunch, where I ate questionable food.  I took my acid tablets, so I thought it would be okay.  I only was eating a little bit of rye flour.

After lunch we went to one more store.  At that store my legs started to stop working.  I pushed along, smiling.  Friend was getting more and more concerned.  “Seriously, I’ll see you Monday.  You need to get home and rest before it’s past the point of no return.”

I agreed.  Then I looked at my watch and realized that I had to get Haleigh in ten minutes.  Screw getting home to rest.

Once at the school I thought I would grab Haleigh and get my ass home.  It was an hour past the absolute latest time for my pain meds, and I was slipping fast.  At school it suddenly hit me that today is Friday; tumbling day.  I wouldn’t be going home for another hour.  I thought to myself, I can do this.

In her class I couldn’t get comfortable.  I was shifting in my chair, standing up then sitting down.  Going to the bathroom every ten minutes.  With twenty minutes left in the lesson, I mulled over the idea of running home and taking my pills but that seemed silly.  The pills wouldn’t kick in, and I’d miss watching Youngest.

By the time the hour was up I couldn’t walk.  Youngest helped me to the car.  We drove home.  I walked slowly to the couch and melted.  I needed Husband home, now.  Crisis mode was initiated.  I couldn’t stop crying.  Youngest brought my pills to me with water.  I took them.  Oldest made dinner.  I cried some more.

The moral of this story is that I can’t be in denial anymore.  That ship has sailed.  I am sick.  Too sick to miss pills.  Too sick to shop for two hours.  Too sick to be normal.


Got That Something

•November 5, 2009 • Leave a Comment

My sweet Youngest is so happy today.  She has been studying to help improve her third grade spelling grade.  When I went to parent teacher conference a few weeks ago, Youngest found out that if she brought her grade up twenty points in spelling, she’d be on honor roll.  So, she decided all on her own that’s something she wants.  Ever since then, she’s been bringing home one hundred percent scores!  Whoo hoo!

Gymnastics class is still going strong.  She has perfected her bridge pose and is working on keeping her legs straight during a cart-wheel.  She’s totally cute and knows she has skills.

I’ve watched her just glowing.  She’s so proud of herself!

Oldest is doing well too.  Last Friday was her first school dance, the seventh and eighth grade fall dance.  She had a blast.  I was nervous, I know about thirteen and fourteen year old boys.  Oldest was not worried.  To her, boys are still a little gross.  When I came to pick her up, it felt totally weird to be the mom.  I was the one giving rides home.  Having a teenager is totally bizarre for me.  Oldest was telling me how the dance went.  She said that she danced with her friends, and laughed a lot.  She told me that there were some “popular” girls that were telling her she was a spazz, and kept teasing her and her friends.  I was so proud when I heard her response, “Well, you’re just jealous that I’m having such a good time.  I don’t care what you think, I’m having fun.”  Good kiddo!

I’ve always wanted my kids to happy and independent.  I want them to come to the conclusions of what they need to do in their lives on their own.  I’m a firm believer that if I push them, they’ll push back.

When I was growing up my parents had firm expectations, and if I let them down, that was it.  It was like the love went out the window with my poor performance.  If I didn’t get A’s, I got a lecture about how I was wasting my intellect and not trying hard enough.  “Wasting my potential”.

In comparison, I feel like if my kids are trying their best and asking questions, they could bring home a four on a paper and I’d be proud of them.  I’d find ways to help them improve, but not force it on them.  They need to want it for themselves.

I was thinking about that with Oldest.  We’ve talked about boys and sex, and she’s told me that she doesn’t want to date until she’s finished with college; she doesn’t want to fall in love until she’s reached her goals.  Wow!  We’ll see if she still feels that way in a few years, but I think that’s a pretty mature way of looking at it.

I really love my kids.  They are more centered and happy than I ever was at their age.  The decisions they make and the way they carry themselves makes me so proud.  I love watching them grow up.