It's a gray day

I'm having one of those gray days. Except, this grayness has lasted for a few months. I'm to the point where I just want to stay in my pajamas, under the covers of my bed and the rest of the world be damned. This is not a good feeling.

And I think I'm to the point where I need help.

I don't want to plan dinner, or go to rehearsal, or be on the computer, or go to work, or eat, or talk, or even have people I love come to visit. I want the world to just stop for a moment (as long a moment as I want) so that I can just lay there and not have to think about anything and just have a long cry.

All hope is not lost, I do still want to smell my baby's hair, or have my children sit still in my lap, or go outside to walk. Except the walk includes the urge to just keep going. Down the street, past the orchards

The Skinnier Me...then Opps!

I tend to believe that everything that happens, happens for a reason or because of karma.
Friday of last week, I fit into size 8 pants. Yea!!! I was so proud. I was verbally proud.
Friday night was opening night of the play I'm currently in. A few minor hiccups, but it all went well.
Saturday night had a few more hiccups, but we persevered and made it to the ending scene...where I lost my skirt!
Seriously. One minute I'm throwing scraps of papers into the fireplace and the next I feel a funny tickle on my ankle. I looked down and saw my skirt. I reached down and pulled my skirt and said my line with a little bit of a suppressed giggle, "So much suffering already in the world, I can't bear for there to be anymore." Yep, bear (bare). Which only enticed the audience to laugh even more. Now this play is not a comedy, but the following lines of "...do not think that I shall ever forget," and "Neither shall I forget," caused even more laughter and I'm sure the audience shall never forget either!
To top it all off, the following people were in the audience: two of the well seasoned directors I have yet to work with (they were proud of how I handled it), the woman who baby sits my children, one of the owners of the bank my husband works for, one of the VPs of said bank, and the secretary of the President of the bank.
To date, my cheeks are still warm and glowing from embarrassment.
I safety-pinned my skirt to my blouse for the Sunday matinee.
I also told my husband to mention to his bank that our theatre company would love any donation which would help us move into our new building and perhaps have costumes that fit better. I figured I might as well beg for donations while I had their attention.
Well, skirt and all, I am glad to be losing the baby weight and slowly getting back to my old self. Though now I won't take so much pride in it. Maybe.

Monday, WTH!

In my defense, this doesn't happen often and no children were harmed in the making of this Monday WTH (What the Heck).

Also, I do realize how blessed I truely am in having such lovely neighbors who would brave having someone they only recently met see them in their pajamas on the first day of their vacation.

Yesterday, I used my keys to start the minivan. I was not the one driving, my husband was. But I turned on the car out of impatience because it was seriously like 106 degrees outside, so the inside was like 400! The air conditioner in my van is wonderful and works so well that sometime I have to turn it off so I can defrost the kids to get them out. My husband drove us home after the movie and did not put my keys where I put them. I always (okay, usually) use the clip on my keys to latch them onto my purse so I don't lose them.
I was notorious in college for never knowing where my keys were. My husband knows this about me; it's not something new.
He put my keys on the dining room table. I'm sure you can see where this is heading.
This morning, I gathered our children and ushered them out the door carrying the baby with Josie trailing behind me. I asked her to close the front door but to make sure it was locked.
"Is it locked?"
"I don't know, it's sorta like this" - makes hand gesture to show up & down.
"Then it's not locked, you need to turn it."
"Okay, mom, it's locked."
Then we got in the van and I grabbed the loop of my purse to get my keys...
No keys...
NO KEYS! Not to the van, the house, nothing. I think fast but there are no ways (that won't cause damage to my beautiful house) to break into my house to get the keys.
(Deep breath) Fine, I'll just call Daddy...
No Phone!
Blink.....blink.....open car door and walk in a circle around the van...get back in van. (I seriously have no idea what good I thought that would do)
"Okay, everyone wait here while I go to the neighbor's house to borrow their phone to call Daddy."
So I went to my neighbor's house and rang the doorbell. After an eternity, I started to walk away but heard the latch on the door being moved so I jumped back in front of the door. My gentleman neighbor poked his head from around the door and I very sheepishly told him about my misadventure and could I please use his phone to call my husband. He asked me to hold on just a moment and closed the door. His wife then open the door and invited me in while she tried to figure out how to unlock her new blackberry so I could call Daddy. She was in a housecoat and her husband was coming down the hall buttoning his shorts. Eventually we had to use her husband's phone and I called Daddy hoping he would answer even if he didn't recognize the number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, honey. It's me. Um, I'm locked out of the house and can't start the car."
"They're on the table."
"Uh-huh. Remember you were using my keys..."
"I'll be there in five minutes."
"Thanks, honey. I love you."
My lovely neighbors offered me a ride, which I declined because I needed to get the kids off to their various daycares. So then they offered to let me drive one of their cars. I didn't think people like this still existed! Thank God I live next to such fine people. I thanked them very much and told them my husband would be here soon and I had to get back to the kids.
I believe I've learned a few things today:
never be so impatient for the AC as to use my keys to turn on the car when I am not the one driving.
never assume the keys are where they are supposed to be
to find a place to hide an extra key
and to thank God again for such amazing neighbors!

Daddy: "Where was the scorpion?"

In the upstairs hall above the bathroom door. I can honestly say it took me about ten minutes to kill it. Ten seconds to whack it with the fly swatter, two seconds to realize that didn’t work, twenty seconds trying to squish it in half using the edge of the fly swatter as it frantically tried to sting the shiny purple plastic, five seconds to release it in the hopes that it would stick to the fly swatter, five seconds watching it fall to the floor still alive and intact while screaming “IT FELL, IT FELL, IT FELL”, three seconds to jump off the kitchen stool and stomp it to near oblivion with my foot safely caressed in your ugly boots. I believe fifteen seconds were spent on moving the boxes Josie put in the hall, delaying the inevitable by requesting the fly swatter followed by asking for the kitchen stool and tucking in the laces on the boots. The other nine minutes consisted of me trying (successfully until the scream) to maintain my composure, finding my courage to even GO up the stairs, while inside there was another version of myself running around in a panic screaming, “OHMYGODTHERE’SASCORPIONUPSTAIRSANDMYKIDSNEEDMETOKILLIT!” followed by a fleeting thought that perhaps I could call you to come kill the freaking scorpion while looking at the scorpion wishing it didn’t exist.
~The e-mail to my husband to answer his question.

(Wo-)Man's Best Friend

My Dearest Sir Slash,
Sweet canine friend, I will miss our walks through the neighborhood. Actually, I really miss them already. I miss the smell of your fur after you've had a bath and the way you would nuzzle me just like a cat. I miss you greeting me at my bed each morning when Daddy would come to wake me up and I miss you curling up behind my knees when I would give the children their morning cuddles on the couch. I even miss having to chase you each time someone let you out of the yard. But the memory I will cherish most of all is when you would lay your head on my tummy while I was pregnant and then look at me with bewilderment when that little someone kicked.
I hope, dear friend, that we will meet again and that you are enjoying running the meadows of heaven. Your passing took me by surprise as did my reaction. I didn't realize just how much you had touched my life in the short time you were mine. Even now, several weeks later, my eyes fill with tears and writing this is difficult. I have been meaning to get this out but I haven't because thinking about it hurts so much. But holding it in doesn't honor your loyalty or your life. I want to thank you for sharing your life with me and my family. You are truly one of the best of God's creatures and I will always love you and remember you fondly.
Eternally,
Your Human Mommy

Two Conflicting Bees

Okay, so I'm not talking about actual bees. My two conflicting B's are Breastfeeding and Blood-sugar. Specifically, low blood-sugar. When I am good, as in I have been eating regularly - not skipping meals, not overly stressed, not overly active, getting my normal 7 hours of sleep, my blood-sugar is pretty normal. When I "forget" I have to be conscience of my time/meals/etc, things can and have gotten pretty bad. Those who have had episodes of low blood-sugar can attest to the various situations they have found themselves in. My own have not been pretty. I can honestly say the worst was sitting outside the grocery store, crying my eyes out, waiting for my best friend to come and help me remember what it was that I needed to do there (cash my paycheck and buy milk, flour and bananas for a pancake breakfast I was hosting the next day). I remember feeling so stupid. Had I been paying attention, I would've remembered to eat my 4 o'clock snack and not skip it thinking I'd have time later. Lately, however, my mistake has been not compensating my body's needs with the fact that I have been feeding another human being. I am a full-time breastfeeding mama. I don't use formula if I can help it - my body is (so far) keeping up with this baby but I did have to supplement when B-Boy was a baby. Little Artie is still too young for cereal, so his nutritional needs are completed by me. And it has been a hard road with this blood sugar thing. I go to the child care center to feed Little Artie at lunch. If I forget to pack a lunch, I go feed him first and then try to make it somewhere to pick up something. But by the time I feed the baby and leave, I only have 15-20 minutes of my lunch hour left. And if my blood sugar is too low, I have a very difficult time trying to decide where to go or what to eat. And heaven forbid a repeat of two weeks ago. My hubby said he's bring me lunch, so I went to feed the baby. An hour and a half later, he came with my lunch. I'm proud of the fact that I didn't kill him. My office-mates are really glad he finally showed up because the delay in lunch had not made me a pleasant person to be around. Sort of how a hungry lion gets when you dangle a piece of meat in front of the cage and don't deliver. So now I'm starting to get really good about taking lunch with me. Then I eat the sandwich on the way to the center, feed the baby, and eat the fruit on the way back to the office. So far, as long as I keep my snacks at their regular time, this has been working. It's just so annoying having to relearn my body again.

Sparked - Simple Evening

Walking through the bookstore, heading towards the crowded checkout counter to purchase the ornithology book my thirteen year old needed, Sparks caught my eye. Nicholas Sparks. I've enjoyed a couple of his tear-inducing movies and a thought entered my mind that a book might be nice. It has been too long since I've gifted myself a tome of literature. Next to Sparks was Niffeneger. I have this book but lent it to a friend greatly in need of hope, romance, and the need to lose herself if only for a moment. I wonder if she's had the chance to read it. How long has it been? Dorian Gray. The name on the spine is familiar. I remember at one point in my life wishing for a son by that name, Dorian, because it sounds like a smoky grey song. To me, music is seen in colors and felt in fabrics. But I did not name my sons Dorian because there were stronger names meant for them. Family names. I pull the book from the shelf and notice the price is only $3.99. For an amount equal to twenty minutes of my time I could own a piece of great literature which would be a part of me for a lifetime. A few pennies more than the chai latte with soy I would purchase a few minutes later and I would have another book to pass to my brilliant children. Do I spoil them? Does giving them volumes beyond those perceived by others to be appropriate reading for their grade level make them more prone to teasing? I pray the benefits of accelerated reading outweigh the few years of torment they must endure when their peers realized that their intelligence is not an act. For now, thirteen must endure it because she reads at a college level while her "friends" are still struggling through eighth grade. In the back of my mind I know we are pinching pennies. Five children to feed, a new house which I only just paid the deposit on this morning. But $3.99 Dorian Gray is looking through me, touching the heart that loves the written word, tempting me with promises of words and phrases, quotes that I would finally understand, meanings that would enhance who it is that I really am. I hold the book, warm and smooth and precious. A few shelves over, a colorful cover catches my eye and I squat down to see what it is when I notice a small black and white cover in a pattern much like the feathers of an ostrich. It is a book of sudoku puzzles but in a wordless cover that is flocked in black. A pleasure for the senses - touch and sight. Again, $3.99. High above the shelves I notice a sign. I've discovered the bargain book wall - 75% off. My heart leaps with joy at this simple discovery. People my size rarely look up that high. It seems my world is always looking up and I enjoy my own time when I can look at my own level. So surely this is a discovery. I take a small step back from the books and I see just how vast this treasure trove really is. Authors I know, most I don't. All of them just waiting to be discovered. My new home has built in shelves. So many books could find a home there. I take my two treasures and the beautiful book of birds to the less crowded counter of the bookstore cafe. I learn that I can purchase the books and my tea there. I pay, I sit. I crack open Dorian Gray and learn the sad tale of his author. Will anyone ever read my story? I'd like to think it's a happy story. I always seems happy. One of thirteen's teachers says I should write a book on how to be happy. If she only knew the truth. She would cry. I am happy today because I don't believe in being sad. I've been there. God helped me find my way out. He gave me children to live for. He gave me supportive parents and set me still long enough to find the man who was meant for me. I am only great and happy because I've not got the right to be sad. I survived it. I will write it when I am ready, for now I will just live it. My tea arrives and I hold the warm cup, warm books (I did not want a bag) and head out into the cold. This is not weather we are used to in New Mexico - ice and snow. My car is warm. I drive past the house that will soon house my new treasures. I have plans for that house. It will be our home. It will hear our laughter, children playing, dancing in the kitchen, the new baby crying. Friends will come to eat and talk and play cards. We'll have epic Halloween parties. It looks beautiful in the snow. I pull into the driveway of the home I've shared with my family for three years. Six people, one bathroom. It's been fun and leaving is bittersweet. I love this house. I have promised to try to find a nice family for it. I almost wish we didn't have to leave but our girls are becoming teenagers and they need more privacy. New baby makes seven now with one bathroom and I'd really appreciate taking a shower without having to leave the door unlocked. I miss my privacy too. I hand the book of birds to thirteen. She takes it in her hands and presses her head to it. "Thank you mom." She notices I've got two other books and I can see her interest. It makes me proud. Then she says good night and kisses me on the check, still with her book in her hands. She tells me I smell like gingerbread.
And I smile.