Look! I know how to put pictures into the computer and post them now! Ellen DeGeneres made me learn that. (But I don't know how to write a caption so I'm adding a blog.)
This is from when Joel was in town. We were all supposed to cross our eyes. When Nate and I cracked up at his downward gaze, he said it was because he had more things than us to concentrate on, like taking the picture. But when he proceeded to demonstrate, Nate and I informed him through more peals of laughter that he's only looking down. My husband is 40 years old and never realized that he couldn't cross his eyes until he saw this picture. Grace obviously got the same gene.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Technology Deficient Dorks
Hola, Friends. I'm taking a break from the querying process to let you in on another benefit of being a single-parent without the benefits. As all four of you know...there are only four of you, aren't there? If there are more than four of you (Joel, Jen, Cheri, Katie...none of whom are single-parents), let me know. I need to just get with the times and start on twitter or face-book or something to reach those single-parents. But this blog, as all four of you know, is such a huge step for me...which brings me to today's subject: technology deficient dorks. See? I didn't use "geeks" because even though I don't know a lot about technology, I do know that geeks are the ones that do know a lot. So technology deficient dorks are people like me.
As the four of you know, I gave up my cell phone about five years ago as a money saving measure and I really don't miss it. That's not to say that I don't appreciate Jen insisting that I keep the Soul Sisters Center cell phone for emergencies and that I won't some day get my own cell phone again. I will as soon as I get an agent--an agent who will love my book and find a publisher who loves it, too. But for now, I'm perfectly content to live without it. But I digress. What the four (or more? is anyone else out there? a single-mom or dad?) of you also know is that until I commited to being a writer two-and-a-half years ago, I only knew how to check email. I knew a bit about Word because of nursing school 10 years earlier, and I knew about the hospital computer system, of course, but that was about it. And it was fine with me.
Today, as I was attempting to send out another query to a prospective agent, my computer was not cooperating. I knew from working on queries these last few weeks, that the computer was acting quirky again (Is Mercury in retrograde?), so for this latest query, I did the work on the Soul Sisters Center laptop (Jen insisted that I learn how to use this, too--I'm glad she did, thanks, soul sis). But when I went to copy/paste it in the body of the email as most agents prefer, I kept losing the scroll button and I would have to start over. But look, the very fact that I know about copying, pasting, scrolling is in itself an accomplishment for me. Katie, Jen, Joel, and Nate all tried to teach me at various times early on, but mostly, they did it. When Joel was gone and I began to fiddle around with it myself, I really learned and remembered how to do those things. So today, when I had trouble scrolling on the laptop, I decided to email it in an attachment to my professional email so I could download, save, and send it from my big computer. See? I can figure it all out on my own now. (Although, as I said, that computer was acting up, so the email never arrived until 2 hours later. I didn't wait that long; I ended up placing the laptop on my computer desk and retyping the query/bio/overview manually from reading it off the laptop...oy-vey! It finally worked, though. I got an auto-reply from the agency, so I know it went through.)
For sure I'm learning and growing so much more as a single-parent. Sure, I probably would have learned all of this anyway because of my job as a writer, but single-parenting pushes us that much quicker and that much higher in any area where we need to grow and I am truly thankful.
Okay, guys, please send me your love and light and send it to the agent that is right for me. Thank you, my four faithful friends. G (and here's a set of boobs back at ya) <3
As the four of you know, I gave up my cell phone about five years ago as a money saving measure and I really don't miss it. That's not to say that I don't appreciate Jen insisting that I keep the Soul Sisters Center cell phone for emergencies and that I won't some day get my own cell phone again. I will as soon as I get an agent--an agent who will love my book and find a publisher who loves it, too. But for now, I'm perfectly content to live without it. But I digress. What the four (or more? is anyone else out there? a single-mom or dad?) of you also know is that until I commited to being a writer two-and-a-half years ago, I only knew how to check email. I knew a bit about Word because of nursing school 10 years earlier, and I knew about the hospital computer system, of course, but that was about it. And it was fine with me.
Today, as I was attempting to send out another query to a prospective agent, my computer was not cooperating. I knew from working on queries these last few weeks, that the computer was acting quirky again (Is Mercury in retrograde?), so for this latest query, I did the work on the Soul Sisters Center laptop (Jen insisted that I learn how to use this, too--I'm glad she did, thanks, soul sis). But when I went to copy/paste it in the body of the email as most agents prefer, I kept losing the scroll button and I would have to start over. But look, the very fact that I know about copying, pasting, scrolling is in itself an accomplishment for me. Katie, Jen, Joel, and Nate all tried to teach me at various times early on, but mostly, they did it. When Joel was gone and I began to fiddle around with it myself, I really learned and remembered how to do those things. So today, when I had trouble scrolling on the laptop, I decided to email it in an attachment to my professional email so I could download, save, and send it from my big computer. See? I can figure it all out on my own now. (Although, as I said, that computer was acting up, so the email never arrived until 2 hours later. I didn't wait that long; I ended up placing the laptop on my computer desk and retyping the query/bio/overview manually from reading it off the laptop...oy-vey! It finally worked, though. I got an auto-reply from the agency, so I know it went through.)
For sure I'm learning and growing so much more as a single-parent. Sure, I probably would have learned all of this anyway because of my job as a writer, but single-parenting pushes us that much quicker and that much higher in any area where we need to grow and I am truly thankful.
Okay, guys, please send me your love and light and send it to the agent that is right for me. Thank you, my four faithful friends. G (and here's a set of boobs back at ya) <3
Friday, February 5, 2010
Hallelujah
I've been hearing Leonard Cohen's music in my head all day today and all last night. When you are a single-parent, the simplest acts of kindeness mean so much more. Not that I wouldn't be thankful otherwise, and it's not that I'm any more aware, it's that it means so much more... Exactly what I already said. I know I'm basically expounding upon my blog from yesterday--but I must. I am so deeply grateful to those that have reached out to help. And the single word Hallelujah is what I keep hearing (in Leonard Cohen's melody). I'm repeating myself. Okay, so on with it.
Last night after the boys' swim meet (they are the silver division undefeated champions for the first time in the school's history whoo-hoo!), my mom asked what I was planning "to do with Grace" for the counties on Saturday (both Nate and Josh made it)--Of course I told her that she was coming with me and that we'd have lots of snacks and books and drawing supplies for her. It's an all day event in a hot pool area, not something Grace was ever excited about attending. I let her know that Jen had offered to possibly watch her, but that her youngest came home from school sick that day, and I had been planning on keeping Grace with me anyway. Well, mom said she had inadvertantly told my brother that she could babysit my neice that day, not realizing it was the day of counties and did I want her to take Grace, too? Hallelu--nope! Not yet. First I made sure she didn't want to see if someone else could watch my brother's daughter, she said no, it was an all day thing and that she'd already talked it over with Cheri who was going to keep her posted via her fancy phone so she may as well keep Grace, too. And Grace would have fun seeing her cousin whom she hasn't seen in ages...Okay, now: Hallelujah---Hallelujah...
My mom loves to be at every single one of her grandkids' events if she can help it, which was why I had planned on taking Grace (and Jen does SO MUCH for me...). Wow. My mom is helping not only me, but Gracie, too. She'll have a blast with her little cuz and I will likely have a much more enjoyable time without having to keep my six year old happy within the crowds of spectators for the county meet.
Then today Jen told me that she put this blog spot on the front page of our business website: soulsisterscenter.com. She said she was trying to get a hold of me earlier in the week to ask me about it (but I fell off the face of the earth for a few days and didn't know she was calling). Finally she took the initiative and did it without my permission (Jen, you know me better than I know myself sometimes--you never have to ask for my permission.). I am so happy that she did. I just went to the soul sisters site and again, wow. What a beautiful friend. She wrote a wonderfully supportive paragraph updating those that know me from the yoga classes we taught and had been asking how I was doing. (I stopped teaching the classes in December so I wouldn't miss Nate's meets and to concentrate on the writing more.) I just love her so much. And I love all of you that are so caring and supportive in your thoughts of me. Thank you. I really appreciate it.
Hallelujah--Hallelujah...
Last night after the boys' swim meet (they are the silver division undefeated champions for the first time in the school's history whoo-hoo!), my mom asked what I was planning "to do with Grace" for the counties on Saturday (both Nate and Josh made it)--Of course I told her that she was coming with me and that we'd have lots of snacks and books and drawing supplies for her. It's an all day event in a hot pool area, not something Grace was ever excited about attending. I let her know that Jen had offered to possibly watch her, but that her youngest came home from school sick that day, and I had been planning on keeping Grace with me anyway. Well, mom said she had inadvertantly told my brother that she could babysit my neice that day, not realizing it was the day of counties and did I want her to take Grace, too? Hallelu--nope! Not yet. First I made sure she didn't want to see if someone else could watch my brother's daughter, she said no, it was an all day thing and that she'd already talked it over with Cheri who was going to keep her posted via her fancy phone so she may as well keep Grace, too. And Grace would have fun seeing her cousin whom she hasn't seen in ages...Okay, now: Hallelujah---Hallelujah...
My mom loves to be at every single one of her grandkids' events if she can help it, which was why I had planned on taking Grace (and Jen does SO MUCH for me...). Wow. My mom is helping not only me, but Gracie, too. She'll have a blast with her little cuz and I will likely have a much more enjoyable time without having to keep my six year old happy within the crowds of spectators for the county meet.
Then today Jen told me that she put this blog spot on the front page of our business website: soulsisterscenter.com. She said she was trying to get a hold of me earlier in the week to ask me about it (but I fell off the face of the earth for a few days and didn't know she was calling). Finally she took the initiative and did it without my permission (Jen, you know me better than I know myself sometimes--you never have to ask for my permission.). I am so happy that she did. I just went to the soul sisters site and again, wow. What a beautiful friend. She wrote a wonderfully supportive paragraph updating those that know me from the yoga classes we taught and had been asking how I was doing. (I stopped teaching the classes in December so I wouldn't miss Nate's meets and to concentrate on the writing more.) I just love her so much. And I love all of you that are so caring and supportive in your thoughts of me. Thank you. I really appreciate it.
Hallelujah--Hallelujah...
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Lunches? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Lunches!
Well, we do. Our kids do, at least. (But crumbled bleu cheese for 10 days straight can get a little old :-)
One benefit (or maybe it's a detriment) of being a single-parent is our ever increasing tolerence to high levels of pain and/or discomfort. We have mastered the knack of mind over matter by appearing serene, peaceful, and happy while in the company of others, even though we have a festering infection spreading throughout our body demanding that we stop.
Stop fixing those lunches.
Stop making breakfast and dinner.
Stop waking your kid or kids up for school.
Stop walking your six year old to and from school.
Stop giving her baths.
Stop fixing snacks for her.
Stop her bedtime routine.
Stop reading stories and playing board games even though it is just the two of you for the long 72 hour weekend and you must do something with her other than lay on the couch and watch her watch TV or play alone.
Stop cutting off all of her hair and then making her cry when she looks in the mirror even though everyone has said she looks adorable. So sleek. So chic. Ooops. Too late. Not a good idea to cut your six year old princess daughter's hair when you are half delirious; your judgement is likely to be off...you might fail to realize that she has no interest in sleek and chic, she is not as dirigible as she was when she was three (when you last cut her hair that way and not that she ever really was dirigible), and would much rather be flouncy and flourishing like a princess.
Stop.
Stop sitting up.
Stop standing up.
Stop walking around the house.
Stop doing the endless cycle of dishes, laundry, and homework helping.
Stop paying the bills.
Stop writing.
Stop blogging.
Stop your carpooling duties.
Stop carrying through with plans and obligations you made to others. (Students and families at Grace's elementary raised over $1200 in 4 days for Haiti! Whoo-hoo!)
No! We laugh in the face of illness (HA-HA!) and say, "I will NOT stop! Give me a bed of nails: I will lie! Give me burning hot coals: I will walk! But I will not stop!"
Okay, well you know I stopped the blogging. And the writing. Because I could. But I can't really stop the other things when I am the sole adult in the household (and Nate is hardly home as it is, because of swimming, but he also spent the weekend with Donnie...). So we become stronger than we thought we already were (just being a parent, single or partnered) when we have no spouse to rely on. Or at least not one in the vicinity. But I've said this before--If we don't stop--no matter how tough and strong we think we are, we will get knocked down. (And we may still smile and say, "I'm fine," but it won't make the illness go away.)
So even though our bodies are screaming...hell, who are we kidding, even though our bodies and our minds are screaming, Please stop moving! Lay down. Rest. Sleep. Just sleep. It's not that easy to listen when you are the only adult at home. Maybe that's why my illness manifested first and most painfully as ear infections...and throat infection (I don't ask for help when I should, but thankfully I do accept it when offered...)
Which brings me to the real benefit of being a single-parent: True and generous friends. Jen and Cheri thank you for easing the burden. Cheri, for helping out last Tuesday (arranging for Herbie to take the boys to the meet on my day--I know that was just to help because of Grace's ballet, not becasue I was sick, but either way, it is SO MUCH APRECIATED), and last Wednesday night, picking the boys up (and Jen, thanks for offering that day, too). Cheri, thank you for bringing my water contribution to the team dinner on Monday so I wouln't have to go, and thank you again for always picking Nathan up at the school after the away meets so I can get Grace home and ready for bed. I'm tearful right now as I type. I am so grateful to have you guys. And mom, too. Mom, thank you for taking Grace to ballet this Tuesday so I could get to Nathan's parent-teacher conferences and to the meet. Jen, thank you for Friday, taking Grace to school and finishing out our Haiti fundraiser duties without me. Thank you for picking her up on Sunday for those 2 hours, and for yesterday (I'm actually bawling now, I had to pause to get a tissue and blow my nose and wipe my eyes...) thank you for taking her in the evening just to play--she loved it and she loved eating the bacon that I never buy anymore! Thank you for picking the boys up for me. And I can't forget my sweet Nathan, he did help me lots of days by getting Grace from school so I wouldn't have to.
So I did stop sometimes. When those that I love and that love me could help, they did. I know this blog starts out like I am lamenting...and I was, most of this blog was jotted down yesterday on paper (I was too sick to drag myself to the computer) when I was still feeling a bit jaded and alone and just plain sick and tired. (But finally ready to write something.) I still had my sense of humor though, and I was able to see that I needed sunglasses because as always, my Soda-Pop core (9th grade nickname ala S.E. Hinton) can't help but be grateful to bear witness to my true and beautiful friends and family. If Joel were here they (Jen, Cheri, Mom) likely would not have had the opportunity or felt the necessity to shine their light so brightly on me when I needed it most. Thank you.
One benefit (or maybe it's a detriment) of being a single-parent is our ever increasing tolerence to high levels of pain and/or discomfort. We have mastered the knack of mind over matter by appearing serene, peaceful, and happy while in the company of others, even though we have a festering infection spreading throughout our body demanding that we stop.
Stop fixing those lunches.
Stop making breakfast and dinner.
Stop waking your kid or kids up for school.
Stop walking your six year old to and from school.
Stop giving her baths.
Stop fixing snacks for her.
Stop her bedtime routine.
Stop reading stories and playing board games even though it is just the two of you for the long 72 hour weekend and you must do something with her other than lay on the couch and watch her watch TV or play alone.
Stop cutting off all of her hair and then making her cry when she looks in the mirror even though everyone has said she looks adorable. So sleek. So chic. Ooops. Too late. Not a good idea to cut your six year old princess daughter's hair when you are half delirious; your judgement is likely to be off...you might fail to realize that she has no interest in sleek and chic, she is not as dirigible as she was when she was three (when you last cut her hair that way and not that she ever really was dirigible), and would much rather be flouncy and flourishing like a princess.
Stop.
Stop sitting up.
Stop standing up.
Stop walking around the house.
Stop doing the endless cycle of dishes, laundry, and homework helping.
Stop paying the bills.
Stop writing.
Stop blogging.
Stop your carpooling duties.
Stop carrying through with plans and obligations you made to others. (Students and families at Grace's elementary raised over $1200 in 4 days for Haiti! Whoo-hoo!)
No! We laugh in the face of illness (HA-HA!) and say, "I will NOT stop! Give me a bed of nails: I will lie! Give me burning hot coals: I will walk! But I will not stop!"
Okay, well you know I stopped the blogging. And the writing. Because I could. But I can't really stop the other things when I am the sole adult in the household (and Nate is hardly home as it is, because of swimming, but he also spent the weekend with Donnie...). So we become stronger than we thought we already were (just being a parent, single or partnered) when we have no spouse to rely on. Or at least not one in the vicinity. But I've said this before--If we don't stop--no matter how tough and strong we think we are, we will get knocked down. (And we may still smile and say, "I'm fine," but it won't make the illness go away.)
So even though our bodies are screaming...hell, who are we kidding, even though our bodies and our minds are screaming, Please stop moving! Lay down. Rest. Sleep. Just sleep. It's not that easy to listen when you are the only adult at home. Maybe that's why my illness manifested first and most painfully as ear infections...and throat infection (I don't ask for help when I should, but thankfully I do accept it when offered...)
Which brings me to the real benefit of being a single-parent: True and generous friends. Jen and Cheri thank you for easing the burden. Cheri, for helping out last Tuesday (arranging for Herbie to take the boys to the meet on my day--I know that was just to help because of Grace's ballet, not becasue I was sick, but either way, it is SO MUCH APRECIATED), and last Wednesday night, picking the boys up (and Jen, thanks for offering that day, too). Cheri, thank you for bringing my water contribution to the team dinner on Monday so I wouln't have to go, and thank you again for always picking Nathan up at the school after the away meets so I can get Grace home and ready for bed. I'm tearful right now as I type. I am so grateful to have you guys. And mom, too. Mom, thank you for taking Grace to ballet this Tuesday so I could get to Nathan's parent-teacher conferences and to the meet. Jen, thank you for Friday, taking Grace to school and finishing out our Haiti fundraiser duties without me. Thank you for picking her up on Sunday for those 2 hours, and for yesterday (I'm actually bawling now, I had to pause to get a tissue and blow my nose and wipe my eyes...) thank you for taking her in the evening just to play--she loved it and she loved eating the bacon that I never buy anymore! Thank you for picking the boys up for me. And I can't forget my sweet Nathan, he did help me lots of days by getting Grace from school so I wouldn't have to.
So I did stop sometimes. When those that I love and that love me could help, they did. I know this blog starts out like I am lamenting...and I was, most of this blog was jotted down yesterday on paper (I was too sick to drag myself to the computer) when I was still feeling a bit jaded and alone and just plain sick and tired. (But finally ready to write something.) I still had my sense of humor though, and I was able to see that I needed sunglasses because as always, my Soda-Pop core (9th grade nickname ala S.E. Hinton) can't help but be grateful to bear witness to my true and beautiful friends and family. If Joel were here they (Jen, Cheri, Mom) likely would not have had the opportunity or felt the necessity to shine their light so brightly on me when I needed it most. Thank you.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Butta, Brie, and Bleu Cheese Days
Yesterday evening as Josh and Nate got into the Jeep after their swimming practice, Nate informed me that he had the coach order his sweatshirt with the word "Butta" instead of "Miller" on the back. He said he had it as "Miller" but then his teammates told him that he should put "Butta" on the back and so he did. (That's how he and his teammates decided it should be spelled, but I think I like it better as "Buttuh". He said that they considered the "h" at the end, as in "Buttah", but concluded that just the "a" was good.) I asked, Why Butta? And his cousin answered, "Because he's so smooth when he swims--like butta."
It got me to thinking that my day had been anything but smooth like buttuh. (hmmm, maybe I do like the butta better...or, butta betta...) My day had been more like crumbled bleu cheese; falling out everywhere. I knew I had a bug on Sunday with the cloudy head, achey, itchy ears, and burning throat and eyes that were with me when I woke that morning; I tried to take it easy. But any parent knows that you can't just take a day off from being a parent, especially when you are the only one present. Monday morning wasn't much better, but I was optimistic; I thought I felt better. So I surged forward with my "to-do-list".
After walking Grace to school, I got right to checking my email to see if Grace's Spanish teacher (the head of Student Council for the school) wanted Jen and me to come to the school that day to help with a fundraiser for Haiti. We had been communicating about it the previous week via email but now, on the kick-off day, my computer, more accurately, my email was going so slowly that it took me an hour and a half to type a two-paragraph message. That should've been my first clue that I needed to slow down and just chill. But I had so much to do! (I can hear my insidious-self chortling in the background now...or just my self...not really insidious, just a part of me that knows better.)
Between waiting for my email to unfreeze I decided to get started on the bills. Turns out I was in a holding pattern on them, too. One of Joel's roommates moved out near the end of December so I knew his rent and utilities and sanitation bills would go up and I took that into account, but what I forgot was that since he also just rotated to the 11am-9pm shift, he lost most of his shift-differential premium pay; a pretty big chunk of money for us to suddenly not have. The ironic thing is that he was allowed to choose his starting rotation with the knowledge that they would soon rotate forward a shift and stay for a longer period. He purposely chose the 5p-3a shift so that he would end up on the nightshift when they moved, but this time they went backwards. No one knows why. It's all a big mystery.
So. You get the idea. My plans for the day were quickly crumbling around me like bleu cheese. And I felt lousy about it along with just feeling lousy. But then today was a new day. I still felt murky but I went along with the flow...not like butta, but not like crumbling bleu cheese, either, more like a nice, creamy Brie. Eventually, by this evening, I found myself saying, "Like butta. Just like butta." And it's not like things have really gone exactly smoothly (hence, the Brie). For example, earlier today Jen and I collected piles and piles of coins and bills from each classroom at our kids' school for the Haiti fundraiser and took them to a credit union to change it all into bills ($486 in two days!). Later, I received a call from from the school clerk stating that I needed to call the lady at the credit union because she overpaid us by $11 and that they needed me to return the $11 to the credit union. I was baffled but I called. After hearing the bank lady's explanation, I knew what had happened and within three minutes it was fixed. We didn't owe $11.
Then today after school I noticed that Grace was coughing a lot. We had to leave for her ballet class in an hour; her costume deposit and measurements were also due, then we were going to skedaddle to the boys' swim meet across town, but I was starting to doubt that she was well enough to do all that. Sure enough, I felt her and knew she was too hot--102 temp. At first I was really bummed to miss one of Nate's meets and to have Grace miss her ballet that she so loves. Also, the costume stuff was due...but I made some calls...I caught my mom just before she hopped in the shower. She came to watch Grace when she was done, left her car running in my driveway so I could jump right in and not have to fiddle with the Jeep's quirks; I zoomed off within the speed limits to try to get to the community center dance studio by 5p so I could catch the teacher between classes and to get back home by 5:15p so Cheri and my mom could get to the meet on time. Whew!
After giving the envelope to her teacher at a few minutes before five, I walked out of there saying, Like butta. (Then I kept saying it all the way home, Just like butta.)
Not only because it all worked out with the timing, but because I realized in that moment that this was best for Grace and for me (and everyone else she may have infected if we went to ballet and swimming). And I thought about yesterday and I appreciated today so much more. The bleu cheese, the Brie, and the butta all come from the same place, they just have different traits. And then I said to myself, Bleu cheese is an aquired taste. Not everyone appreciates the veins of mold and that sharp bite, but those who do, understand its perfection.
It got me to thinking that my day had been anything but smooth like buttuh. (hmmm, maybe I do like the butta better...or, butta betta...) My day had been more like crumbled bleu cheese; falling out everywhere. I knew I had a bug on Sunday with the cloudy head, achey, itchy ears, and burning throat and eyes that were with me when I woke that morning; I tried to take it easy. But any parent knows that you can't just take a day off from being a parent, especially when you are the only one present. Monday morning wasn't much better, but I was optimistic; I thought I felt better. So I surged forward with my "to-do-list".
After walking Grace to school, I got right to checking my email to see if Grace's Spanish teacher (the head of Student Council for the school) wanted Jen and me to come to the school that day to help with a fundraiser for Haiti. We had been communicating about it the previous week via email but now, on the kick-off day, my computer, more accurately, my email was going so slowly that it took me an hour and a half to type a two-paragraph message. That should've been my first clue that I needed to slow down and just chill. But I had so much to do! (I can hear my insidious-self chortling in the background now...or just my self...not really insidious, just a part of me that knows better.)
Between waiting for my email to unfreeze I decided to get started on the bills. Turns out I was in a holding pattern on them, too. One of Joel's roommates moved out near the end of December so I knew his rent and utilities and sanitation bills would go up and I took that into account, but what I forgot was that since he also just rotated to the 11am-9pm shift, he lost most of his shift-differential premium pay; a pretty big chunk of money for us to suddenly not have. The ironic thing is that he was allowed to choose his starting rotation with the knowledge that they would soon rotate forward a shift and stay for a longer period. He purposely chose the 5p-3a shift so that he would end up on the nightshift when they moved, but this time they went backwards. No one knows why. It's all a big mystery.
So. You get the idea. My plans for the day were quickly crumbling around me like bleu cheese. And I felt lousy about it along with just feeling lousy. But then today was a new day. I still felt murky but I went along with the flow...not like butta, but not like crumbling bleu cheese, either, more like a nice, creamy Brie. Eventually, by this evening, I found myself saying, "Like butta. Just like butta." And it's not like things have really gone exactly smoothly (hence, the Brie). For example, earlier today Jen and I collected piles and piles of coins and bills from each classroom at our kids' school for the Haiti fundraiser and took them to a credit union to change it all into bills ($486 in two days!). Later, I received a call from from the school clerk stating that I needed to call the lady at the credit union because she overpaid us by $11 and that they needed me to return the $11 to the credit union. I was baffled but I called. After hearing the bank lady's explanation, I knew what had happened and within three minutes it was fixed. We didn't owe $11.
Then today after school I noticed that Grace was coughing a lot. We had to leave for her ballet class in an hour; her costume deposit and measurements were also due, then we were going to skedaddle to the boys' swim meet across town, but I was starting to doubt that she was well enough to do all that. Sure enough, I felt her and knew she was too hot--102 temp. At first I was really bummed to miss one of Nate's meets and to have Grace miss her ballet that she so loves. Also, the costume stuff was due...but I made some calls...I caught my mom just before she hopped in the shower. She came to watch Grace when she was done, left her car running in my driveway so I could jump right in and not have to fiddle with the Jeep's quirks; I zoomed off within the speed limits to try to get to the community center dance studio by 5p so I could catch the teacher between classes and to get back home by 5:15p so Cheri and my mom could get to the meet on time. Whew!
After giving the envelope to her teacher at a few minutes before five, I walked out of there saying, Like butta. (Then I kept saying it all the way home, Just like butta.)
Not only because it all worked out with the timing, but because I realized in that moment that this was best for Grace and for me (and everyone else she may have infected if we went to ballet and swimming). And I thought about yesterday and I appreciated today so much more. The bleu cheese, the Brie, and the butta all come from the same place, they just have different traits. And then I said to myself, Bleu cheese is an aquired taste. Not everyone appreciates the veins of mold and that sharp bite, but those who do, understand its perfection.
Monday, January 25, 2010
More Silly Fears
I forgot to mention the spiders and centipedes. When you are the only parent home, you must be the one to lead them out the door when your daughter is afraid. I've always thought it was silly to be afraid of bugs--we're so much bigger and probably scarier to them, but now, finally, I think I've come as far as I ever have in overcoming my fear of spiders and centipedes in my house. And it's all thanks to this past year of being a single-parent.
I've always talked to animals, even bugs, but bugs like arachnids and chilopods freak me out when they pop out in my bathroom or bedroom or kitchen or laundry room. When Joel is here I frantically ask him to come get it. If Grace is around I stay calm but I am still freaked out. I realized that by having Joel lead the bug outside, I was not dealing with it at all. Looking back, I think I was more afraid because I could be.
Now that it's just me (and Nate, if he's home) I still don't like to be startled by the spiders and centipedes, but I communicate with them more again (like when I was a kid). I ask them not to come into my bedroom, especially above our bed, and I ask that they just show themselves in a way that won't be so sudden. I even had a conversation with a centipede in my bathroom one night. I told him I knew it wasn't his fault that he had so many legs and moved so fast. I said, "So you walk fast, so what? Is that a reason for humans to freak out? Well I'm done freaking out. I see you. You're just a little guy roaming for food or something in my bathroom. Just please don't crawl on me or come in my room and we'll just call it a night, okay?"
I didn't take it outside. I felt sure that he would just go back to his hidey-hole and not startle me anymore. And he hasn't. It's been about five months now--no more midnight appearances by Mr. Centipede or his kin. Same for the spiders. I actually had two spider buddies this summer and fall; they hung out on their webs right near me when I sat on my porch swing to write. I watched them grow from tiny little black and red spiders to big, fat, round gals. At least I think they were gals. They got so plump; don't the female spiders usually get bigger like that? In any case, I considered them my writing pals. My fellow story weaver buds. I thanked them for not coming into my house, being so big and all. Plus, I still had a tinier spider friends that came out in the evenings to crawl on my living room ceiling when I wrote at nighttime or to greet me when I went to my kitchen sink for a drink of water.
Just another way single-parenting has reminded me about reconnecting with all living beings. I am thankful.
I've always talked to animals, even bugs, but bugs like arachnids and chilopods freak me out when they pop out in my bathroom or bedroom or kitchen or laundry room. When Joel is here I frantically ask him to come get it. If Grace is around I stay calm but I am still freaked out. I realized that by having Joel lead the bug outside, I was not dealing with it at all. Looking back, I think I was more afraid because I could be.
Now that it's just me (and Nate, if he's home) I still don't like to be startled by the spiders and centipedes, but I communicate with them more again (like when I was a kid). I ask them not to come into my bedroom, especially above our bed, and I ask that they just show themselves in a way that won't be so sudden. I even had a conversation with a centipede in my bathroom one night. I told him I knew it wasn't his fault that he had so many legs and moved so fast. I said, "So you walk fast, so what? Is that a reason for humans to freak out? Well I'm done freaking out. I see you. You're just a little guy roaming for food or something in my bathroom. Just please don't crawl on me or come in my room and we'll just call it a night, okay?"
I didn't take it outside. I felt sure that he would just go back to his hidey-hole and not startle me anymore. And he hasn't. It's been about five months now--no more midnight appearances by Mr. Centipede or his kin. Same for the spiders. I actually had two spider buddies this summer and fall; they hung out on their webs right near me when I sat on my porch swing to write. I watched them grow from tiny little black and red spiders to big, fat, round gals. At least I think they were gals. They got so plump; don't the female spiders usually get bigger like that? In any case, I considered them my writing pals. My fellow story weaver buds. I thanked them for not coming into my house, being so big and all. Plus, I still had a tinier spider friends that came out in the evenings to crawl on my living room ceiling when I wrote at nighttime or to greet me when I went to my kitchen sink for a drink of water.
Just another way single-parenting has reminded me about reconnecting with all living beings. I am thankful.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Facing Silly Fears
Before Joel and I got married we agreed that he would be in charge of doing any "car stuff" and I would be in charge of grocery shopping. As I said, I was a single-parent back when Nathan was 3-5 years old. So even though his dad, Donnie and I had a similar arrangement, though not exactly a "deal" like I had with Joel, I did eventually have to take care of my own car, then and now.
I was about to write that I don't know why it's almost like a fear for me to have to get my oil changed or worse, to have to take it in for an unknown problem; I know it's because I don't do it unless I have to. I had to back when Donnie and I were separated and I have to now. Of course, I could've asked Donnie to help me out, but why? For as much as I didn't like to handle car maintenance and problems, I really didn't like to be dependent on anyone. And I do like a challenge. If my life is going along on an even keel and nothing is going "wrong" then I'm not challenging myself enough. I like to scare myself, even if it simply means taking care of my car. When I face my fears, they eventually become something else. Depending on what it is...for instance, quitting my nursing job to become a writer was a HUGE fear for many reasons, but now that I've done it, I see that we can live on way less money and I can practice my passion and live more joyfully. But learning to maintain my car or figure out what to do with my totaled car is a fear that has turned into a mundane monthly task. But a mundane monthly task that I greatly appreciate! Really.
Almost exactly one month after Joel first left, February 2009, I got into an accident and totaled my car. Actually, I didn't fully total it, because it was fixable but for more than it was worth. And I had just switched us from full coverage to the bare minimum. So for me it was basically totaled. Luckily my mom never sold the old family hand-me-down, a 1994 gas-guzzling Jeep with almost 200,000 miles on it. It leaks oil and transmission fluids, it tends to veer to the right--two hands on the wheel are essential, the windows or doors (not sure which) don't seal right so there's a cold breeze and a wind tunnel sound effect even with the heat on high (the only setting the heat works), the driver's side door only opens from the outside, the motor to roll the windows up and down is questionable, especially in the cold (I have to use my hands to "help" it up--every time I get in and out of the car), the locks don't work right, and there's a kill-switch on it so the headlights have to be on in order to start the engine. A scary car for me to inherit, but now I love it. It hasn't let me down yet. Well, it did make me scream once when the kids and I were shopping for school clothes back in August and the steering wheel started to smoke. But otherwise, no problems.
And I've gotten quite adept at popping the hood and checking the fluids regularly. Actually I often have to get Nate to pop the hood because the pull thingy really sticks. But I open the hood and do all the rest of it myself. And it makes me feel so happy and accomplished...Not that I wouldn't love to have a "normal" car again, preferrably a hybrid so that I'm not polluting our earth so much. But with all it's flaws it has endured. (I had the urge to follow Frank Sinatra's voice and say, "I love it so!") And it has allowed us to pay off some of our debt before going out and buying another car that would put us more into debt. But the main point was that the car accident, the mangled car, the jeep have all played a part in helping me to be confident about taking care of my car again. A silly thing, I know, but to me it means something and it's symbolic of what all single-parents have to do in life. So that when and if we ever get a partner that will share the duties of life again, we are that much more appreciative, right?
I was about to write that I don't know why it's almost like a fear for me to have to get my oil changed or worse, to have to take it in for an unknown problem; I know it's because I don't do it unless I have to. I had to back when Donnie and I were separated and I have to now. Of course, I could've asked Donnie to help me out, but why? For as much as I didn't like to handle car maintenance and problems, I really didn't like to be dependent on anyone. And I do like a challenge. If my life is going along on an even keel and nothing is going "wrong" then I'm not challenging myself enough. I like to scare myself, even if it simply means taking care of my car. When I face my fears, they eventually become something else. Depending on what it is...for instance, quitting my nursing job to become a writer was a HUGE fear for many reasons, but now that I've done it, I see that we can live on way less money and I can practice my passion and live more joyfully. But learning to maintain my car or figure out what to do with my totaled car is a fear that has turned into a mundane monthly task. But a mundane monthly task that I greatly appreciate! Really.
Almost exactly one month after Joel first left, February 2009, I got into an accident and totaled my car. Actually, I didn't fully total it, because it was fixable but for more than it was worth. And I had just switched us from full coverage to the bare minimum. So for me it was basically totaled. Luckily my mom never sold the old family hand-me-down, a 1994 gas-guzzling Jeep with almost 200,000 miles on it. It leaks oil and transmission fluids, it tends to veer to the right--two hands on the wheel are essential, the windows or doors (not sure which) don't seal right so there's a cold breeze and a wind tunnel sound effect even with the heat on high (the only setting the heat works), the driver's side door only opens from the outside, the motor to roll the windows up and down is questionable, especially in the cold (I have to use my hands to "help" it up--every time I get in and out of the car), the locks don't work right, and there's a kill-switch on it so the headlights have to be on in order to start the engine. A scary car for me to inherit, but now I love it. It hasn't let me down yet. Well, it did make me scream once when the kids and I were shopping for school clothes back in August and the steering wheel started to smoke. But otherwise, no problems.
And I've gotten quite adept at popping the hood and checking the fluids regularly. Actually I often have to get Nate to pop the hood because the pull thingy really sticks. But I open the hood and do all the rest of it myself. And it makes me feel so happy and accomplished...Not that I wouldn't love to have a "normal" car again, preferrably a hybrid so that I'm not polluting our earth so much. But with all it's flaws it has endured. (I had the urge to follow Frank Sinatra's voice and say, "I love it so!") And it has allowed us to pay off some of our debt before going out and buying another car that would put us more into debt. But the main point was that the car accident, the mangled car, the jeep have all played a part in helping me to be confident about taking care of my car again. A silly thing, I know, but to me it means something and it's symbolic of what all single-parents have to do in life. So that when and if we ever get a partner that will share the duties of life again, we are that much more appreciative, right?
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