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| Wednesday, June 21st, 2006 | | 9:24 pm |
THINGS THAT BUG ME
There are few things that really bug me. One of those things is bugs. Bugs in the house. I don't like bugs in the house. Those critters are free to roam wherever they please. They have billions, even trillions of options as to which space to occupy in this big, wide world. I, however, only have my one little house. And I don't wish to share it with bugs, thankyouverymuch. Now, I honestly don't mind squishing fruit flies or mosquitos or ants, or any of the itty bitty guys. But I draw the line once they reach a certain size. I just can not deal with it if I'm going to have to feel it, or if it's anywhere near juicy-looking or has any weight to it. So once we get past microscopic bugs, dh is Pest Control around here. But right now, Pest Control is out of town. And somebody must have sent out an email to all the big, horrible juicy bugs of the neighborhood "Party at CB's house!" Yesterday evening, 4 year-old son was freaking about a "big bumblebee." He was too terrified to show me where the big bumblebee was, so I, a bit terrified myself, walked into the room and immediately spotted a mosquito hovering near the ceiling. Phew! "It's just a mosquito!" I consoled my little one. "Don't worry, I'll squish it when it comes down to where I can reach it. It's okay, you can come here now." So, trusting me, he comes into the room and absolutely freezes. "There it is. There it is. The big thing!" Where? Where? What big thing? Oh, the big humongous fly! Okay. I'm not too afraid of flies. Not really. I figure I'll just shoo the fly into the kitchen and out the back door. But the fly doesn't cooperate. He flies towards the dining room window instead, buzzing against the screen. Well, cool! I closed the window and problem solved. Mr. Fly is trapped. Can't bother us no more. And get this...the nice mosquito (if there is such a thing) flew into the window at the exact same moment, so I got rid of both the pests at once, and all was well... Until about 30 minutes later, when 12 year-old daughter went into the bathroom and shrieked!!! There was a huge, and I do mean HUGE, moth flapping around in there. The thing was at least the size of a human adult's ear. Maybe bigger. It looked like it must have weighed a couple of pounds and that thought alone made me shiver. So I slammed the bathroom door shut and said, "Nobody open this door! We're only using the upstairs bathroom until Pest Control comes home." So, everything under control. Then this afternoon, 4 year-old freaked out again. Big problem. Big, juicy eight-legged problem that moved at the speed of light. The only way to deal with that is to pretend it's not there, but this technique doesn't always work so well, especially when the kids are in a panic over it. Anyhow, this arachnid kept popping up all afternoon. Seemed to be following us around. I was concerned that it might be a dangerous man-eating spider (reasonable concern, right?), so I made sure to keep my eyes open and stay well away from it as much as possible. So there I was, not long ago, typing away at my laptop, holding my feet up in the air to keep them safe, lest the spider decide to crawl up onto them...when suddenly, man-eating spider pops his head out from under my laptop and bares his fangs! I JUMPED and SCREAMED at the top of my lungs and threw myself and my chair backwards, smashing into the wall behind me, breaking the baseboard heater (but who cares? my life was in danger!) Well, the kids all came running to see why I gave them a near heart attack. And I begged, I'm telling you, BEGGED for one of them to do something with this spider. Kill it, trap it, something. I used all the bribes (er, motivational stuff) I could think of, but no, it was too gross for them to even look at the thing. So I took a deep breath and did what I had to do. Yes. That's right. I picked up the phone and called my neighbor. After the hysterical laughter subsided, she came right over, may God bless her and her entire family and all their descendants forever more. I sent my son to get a kleenex for the kind neighbor and he opened the bathroom door--the MOTH bathroom door that even has a little poster on it reminding people not to go in there--I ran right over there hysterically and slammed it back shut, screaming, "No! There's a moth in there!" Oh my! It was quite a hilarious scene. I don't remember laughing so hard in a long time. Unfortunately, my neighbor doesn't do moths. But she did do the spider and I will be eternally grateful for it. (I don't need to describe how I was screaming and gagging as she squished it. For a second I actually thought I was going to throw up, but I couldn't because of the moth in the bathroom. Anyhow, no need to talk about that.) Remind me to buy my neighbor a Kit Kat, even though I gave her one for no particular reason just a couple of weeks ago, she deserves another one! And Pest Control is on the airplane on his way home now, should be home in the wee hours of the morning, so we'll be able to use both bathrooms again tomorrow, I hope. Ah, well. All's well that ends well. | | Tuesday, June 20th, 2006 | | 7:08 pm |
OH, THE UPS AND DOWNS!
Last week, I had such a bad writing day I was ready to smash my horrible, vile computer to bits. But this morning, I got an idea for a new pb and I RAN to my lovely, wonderful computer and typed it all up. And guess what? It does not stink!! It might not appeal to everybody, but at least I know that it does not stink because I've already gotten some very positive feedback from my fabulous and brilliant crit group. (Thanks fabulous and brilliant crit group!) It's one of those metafictional books. I didn't know that term, but Anne Marie was kind enough to let me know. You see, I had no idea what this type of book was called, so I was just calling it weird and ridiculous. Now I know it's metafictional! That sounds so much better, doesn't it? (Thanks, AM!) OOPS! I almost signed my real name. Or, at least, what some of you guys think is my real name. ;) (Phew! That was a close one.) Current Mood:  excited | | Saturday, June 17th, 2006 | | 11:05 pm |
A QUESTION FOR THE BRAVE
If you won the lottery, and I mean the BIG one, would you still write? And if so, would you actively pursue publication or would you write solely for fulfillment? And, no, in case you're wondering, I didn't win the lottery. In fact, it's highly unlikely that I will ever win the lottery since I rarely, rarely buy lottery tickets. I was just wondering what I WOULD do if I knew I had all the money I'd ever need and didn't have to think about financial needs or a future career. And if I'm honest with myself (which I do strive to be) I think I would *probably* stop caring about publication and writing goals. I might still write if/when I felt like it, just for the pure enjoyment of it. But I think I'd put a lot more of my time and energy into volunteer work, and I'd satisfy my need for creativity in other areas that my family would notice and appreciate more. For example, A&C projects with the kiddies, food prep, gardening, decorating the house, sewing--I'd put a lot more focus on "homemaker"-type-creativity, instead of writer-creativity. I'm not 100% sure that's what I'd really do, since this is all just hypothetical and it's hard to know how I'd feel if it were really the case, but I've thought about it a lot and I *think* that's what I'd do. So what about you? | | Thursday, June 15th, 2006 | | 5:26 pm |
Frustration!
Okay, so I haven't been writing very much lately and I'm working on this new rhyming pb. I was incredibly excited when I woke up with the new idea a couple of weeks ago. But I haven't had time to work on it. So today, I said I'm going to work on this new pb idea. Great, right? Well, four and a half hours ago I thought so. But now I feel like tying my computer to the nearest train tracks...URGH! The hours flew by as I worked all afternoon. One stanza, then another, and another. I finally got through about a third of the story and I got stuck. I couldn't say what I wanted to say with rhyme. I tried it every which way and got fed up. Then I realized that using rhyme was bogging the story down, making it too long, too slow. So I did the logical thing. I scrapped my hours of work, of laboring over every word and syllable. I just scrapped it all. Forget this. I'm writing this stupid story in prose and that's final. HA! So I started writing the story in prose and next thing I know all my kids are home, I'm starving, it's suppertime and there's no food, and I didn't get my groceries done like I'd planned, and I didn't exercise like I'd planned, and the stupid story in prose suddenly seems stupider than stupid. It seems like a big, fat waste of time. And on top of that, I ate more than half a container of pringles. (Yes, the big container meant to feed a family of 8 probably.) And I still have to make supper for the family. And go grocery shopping. And exercise. All this because of my decision to write today. So can somebody please remind me why, why, why do I like writing? It's so frustrating! Why do I WANT to do this? And the good news: I'm sure I'll feel better when I see the train run over my computer and crush it to nothingness. Current Mood:  frustrated | | Wednesday, May 24th, 2006 | | 4:47 pm |
| | Monday, May 8th, 2006 | | 4:27 pm |
Am I A Chocoholic?
I've heard the term chocoholic before, but I always thought it was just a cute way of saying "one who likes chocolate a whole lot." Now, I'm beginning to wonder if there really is such a thing as a chocolate addiction. In the last hour, I had one Hershey bar, one chocolate chocolate chunk brownie and a bowl of Breyers Fudgsicle Fury ice cream. So...am I a chocoholic? Is there really such a thing? Should I go for counseling? | | Tuesday, March 28th, 2006 | | 1:47 pm |
A Rejection That Made Me Laugh!
So today I received an envelope from a publisher, not one of my SASEs, and I thought...I don't have any manuscripts at this publisher, do I??? No, I'm quite sure I do not. So I open it up and it's a letter dated March 14, 2006, so it wasn't lost in the mail or anything. This is current! Anyhow, it's a rejection letter for my forthcoming picture book, which I subbed to this publisher (Just to clarify: not from the publisher who's publishing my book, from a different publisher) back in July 2004! Of course, when I received the offer, I notified them right away, but I guess they must have forgotten, or hung onto the manuscript for some other reason. Anyhow, I'm pleased, because it was a nice rejection. She said the manuscript is fun! Yay! Fun is good! First time a rejection made me laugh. I feel like writing back and telling her that if she thinks it's so much fun, she might want to go ahead and preorder it on Amazon. (And what do you think of that response time? One year and eight months! WHOA!) | | Sunday, March 26th, 2006 | | 7:25 pm |
Ack. I notice that I've been tagged. (I wonder how many times I've been tagged and not noticed. Probably a few...) 1. What's your middle name?: Interesting. So you don't know my first name and you don't know my last, but you expect me to divulge my middle name? 2. Is your cell phone a flip phone?: Why is it assumed that I have a cell phone? Actually, just, just got one. And according to the woman who called me with the fabulous offer, it's a "flip-flop phone." I had to keep from laughing each time she said it. And she said it a lot. 3. Have you ever been to New Jersey?: I don't think so. But I do have a few relatives who live there, does that count? 4. What's your favorite soda?: My favorite soda is soda that stays on the shelf in the supermarket and doesn't enter my home. But when I'm sick, I tend to drink gingerale. And once or twice a decade, I get a craving for one of those sickeningly sweet sodas, like orange or...I can't even remember what it's called...the sweet one that's sometimes pinkish and sometimes no color...does anyone know what I'm talking about? 5. Do you have satellite? No. 6. Where did you go to college? College of Life. 7. What's the longest road trip you've been on? From Southern California to Quebec. 8. Did you go to a private school?: Yes. 9. What's your favorite smiley? I like them all. 10. Do you buy lottery tickets in hopes of winning? I have a few times in my life, but not recently. 11. What year were you born in? It's rude to ask a woman her age. 12. Do you like the smell of Sharpies? I've never thought about it before. Next time I open a Sharpie, I'll try to take notice. 13. What does your screensaver look like?: I don't know, the Microsoft logo floating around the screen or something... 14. Do you have an iPod?: No. 15. What's your biggest pet peeve? Being asked dumb, useless questions that just waste my time. 16. What shoe size do you wear? Around 7 1/2. 17. What's your favorite kind of cereal? Probably French Toast Crunch, but it's such garbage that I hardly ever buy it or eat it. I'm not a big cereal eater. 18. Do you ever listen to Classical music? Sometimes. 19. What kind of instruments do you play? I learned to play the recorder a few thousand years ago. I'm not sure if I remember how, though. 20. Do you like Girl Scout cookies? I'm not even sure. I can't remember if I've ever had any. 21. Have you ever ridden in a limo?: Yes. 22. Do you like Hummers?: Only for the safety factor. 24. Are you scared of horses?: No. 25. Do you like milk chocolate or dark chocolate?: Milk chocolate. 26. Do you wear glasses?: When I go out of the house, I usually do. Otherwise, people tend to get offended when they say that I looked right at them (across the street or across the room) and they smiled or waved, but I just ignored them (I couldn't see them and probably didn't know they were smiling or waving at me.) I used to wear them only for driving, but then I got tired of people asking me if I was angry at them, or why I ignored them, etc... 27. Does it annoy you when people misspell things?: It depends who and how many things they've mispelled. It also probably depends a bit on my mood. 28. Do you like the beach or the mountains: Both. The mountains can be a bit scary, driving those narrow winding roads with barely any shoulder to speak of and a huge cliff a few feet away...The beach is beautiful, I love the water and the waves, but I can't stand the mess of sand and how difficult it is to get clean. 29. Have you ever taken cough medicine when you didn't have a cough? No, but I will admit to taking decongestant when I wasn't congested. One winter, I was sick for months with one cold after another. Night after night I was too congested to relax and fall asleep, so I got into the habit of taking decongestant before going to bed. After a few months of this, my colds had all gone away, but I had become dependent (Okay, addicted). I needed the medicine to help me sleep. I continued to take it, gradually decreasing the amount until I didn't need it anymore. Shortly afterward, they pulled the stuff off the shelf because they discovered that one of the active ingredients was dangerous. I can't remember what the danger was, but I was glad I wasn't using it anymore when they pulled it off the shelf. 30. Have you ever been to band camp? No. 31. Do you know any guys with a receding hair line? Yes. 32. Do you know what Chacos are? No. 33. Do you own a Nalgene? I have no idea what this is. And neither does dictionary.com. So probably not. 34. Have you ever watched Room Raiders on MTV?: No. 35. What's the best Christmas present you've ever got?: I don't celebrate Christmas, but I've gotten a few...I just can't remember what they were... 36. What's your favorite Popsicle flavor?: Blue or red, but for some reason, whenever I get into the popsicle mood, the only color left is orange. 37. Did your parents give you an allowance? No. 38. Did you ever watch Rugrats when you were little? No. 39. How many myspace groups have you joined? None. 40. What do you think of standardized tests? I usually don't like tests of any sort. 41. What's the craziest thing you have ever done? The craziest thing I've ever done, would have been answering this question, had I done so. 42. Have you ever cheated on a test? No. 43. Is tomorrow your birthday? No. 44. Have you ever choked on your own spit? Not that I can recall. 45. Do you like roller coasters? No. I used to love them, though. 46. When was the last time you went roller blading? Never. 47. Have you ever wished you had a twin? I don't know if I've wished it, but I've definitely played "what if" and tried to imagine what it would be like. 48. Do you have a caffeine addiction? No. 49. Do you get claustrophobic easily?: Yes. 50. Would you ever kiss on the first date? I'm married. There's no such thing as a first date. | | Friday, March 24th, 2006 | | 8:52 am |
I took it again, because I was torn between many of the choices
| You Should Be A Poet | 
You craft words well, in creative and unexpected ways.
And you have a great talent for evoking beautiful imagery...
Or describing the most intense heartbreak ever.
You're already naturally a poet, even if you've never written a poem. |
So maybe I should write funny poetry. Actually, sometimes I do. I hate these quizzes, though. I don't know why I do them. They annoy me. I guess I don't like being pigeon-holed into any specific category of anything. I am a multi-faceted person aiming for balance in all areas of life. Why can't I write many different types of things? I can if I want to. And I do. So I will. So there, you silly quiz. So there. | | 8:42 am |
| You Should Be a Joke Writer | 
You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation.
Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life...
You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material.
You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer. |
I wish I were that funny. | | Thursday, February 16th, 2006 | | 8:20 pm |
Been Busy
Hey! I've been away from LJ-land for a while. I've been busy. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. And stuff like that. If any of my friends have wondered why I haven't stopped by and commented on your blogs in the last little while, it's not because I don't like you and it's not because I'm angry at you. It's because I haven't been reading you. Harsh, I know. And I'm sorry. But I'm only one person with a very overfull plate and I just can't do it all. So please accept my apologies. I miss playing with you all here, but Mommy-duty is calling and I must go! Hugs and misses! Current Mood:  exhausted | | Monday, January 16th, 2006 | | 9:49 pm |
Revision complete!
I've finally completed the pb revision that I've been working on. Nobody would ever believe how much time it takes to write a pb. The initial idea, the first draft, the first revision, the next revision, the revision after that, the AHA! moment that leads to a total rewrite, revision time again, and again, and again, a bit more tinkering, and a bit more, and more and more and more. There were days (months, actually) when I thought it would never be finished. But it is. At least for now. Time to send it away... Current Mood:  pleased | | Sunday, January 15th, 2006 | | 1:39 pm |
Tooth Fairies and Diaries
Apparently, I really messed up on this tooth fairy business. My 12-year-old daughter just informed me that she still wishes the tooth fairy were real. Not only that, but she wishes that she still believed there was such a thing--even though she knows there isn't. She wishes that I could have made more of an effort to keep her in the dark about the reality of the tooth fairy. (Yes, she's basically upset that I didn't lie to her--can a mother EVER do ANYTHING right?) She's still hurting over the time I told her, "Okay, here. Just give me the tooth and I'll give you a dollar." Wait a minute. Before you all start judging me too, let me tell you, my heart was in the right place. I was dead tired and afraid I'd fall asleep or forget to do the "tooth-fairy thing," and I didn't want her to miss out on the $$--isn't that the most important part? My intentions were the best you see! So this morning, after her long lament, she begged me to play it up more when our baby (the three and a half year old) starts losing teeth. She wants him to think that the tooth fairy is real. She wants him to have what she "missed out on." I am not making this up. I am so dead serious--and she is too. Well, at least I'm proud that I'm raising such an amazing child. Such a deep-thinker. Such a caring, sweet girl who wants to make the world a better place for the next generation. But I am ashamed of what a lousy, rotten mothering job I've done. I wonder if she'll ever get over the disappointment. The anger. The resentment. Oh, woe is me! And that reminds me--now that I know what a bad mother I am, I'm getting worried about this diary she keeps. She writes in it practically every night and has done so religiously since she was at least six years old. I mean, if I messed up so badly on the tooth fairy business, surely I've messed up on a lot of other things as well. And I'm sure she's recorded all my parenting mistakes in that diary of hers. I mean, what else could she be writing in there? Diaries should be outlawed. Tooth fairies should be outlawed. And from my DD's point of view, bad mothers should probably be outlawed, too. | | Saturday, January 7th, 2006 | | 8:58 pm |
Talking Pizza Again
But this time I'm not reporting how much I ate. Okay, fine, I'll tell you. I just had one and a half slices. Is that self-control or what? (Okay, so I was already a bit full from eating one and a half brownies.) Anyhow, there's a particular pizza shop near my house. Every time I go there and see the owner, I get embarrassed about a particular incident that happened many years ago. I don't know if he remembers, but I remember and I die of embarrassment every time I see this man. So here's what happened. Several years ago, I ordered pizza from a pizza-shop that's a bit far from my house. They make good pizza. And they deliver. So I had three "starving" little kids and I was pretty famished myself and I was pacing the house and checking out the window every two minutes waiting for this pizza to arrive. Correction. DESPERATELY waiting for this pizza to arrive. I guess you could say it was a pizza emergency. Well, there happened to be a bad snow storm that evening and the pizza did not arrive when it should have. Nor did it arrive ten minutes later than it should have. Nor twenty minutes later. So I picked up the phone and hit redial. They were the last place I called. I inquired ever so politely about my late pizza. They told me soon soon, pizza coming soon. Okay. So I hung up, paced some more. Kids were cranky, hungry, tired. I was cranky, hungry, tired. Twenty more minutes went by. I picked up the phone and hit redial again to inquire again about my pizza. They promised me it was coming. Five minutes, they said. Five minutes. Well, this repeated itself several times and after an hour and a half of pacing and hitting redial and trying to calm the whining kids, I decided to give up on this AWOL pizza. I needed a pizza ASAP and I couldn't count on this pizza-shop anymore. They had let me down. Terribly. I looked up the number of a closer pizza-shop and called them up to order a pizza. "I need it ASAP!" I said. "No problem, Mrs. CB. It will be there soon." Phew. I hung up and told dh that I'd finally given up on the first pizza-shop and ordered from a closer place. He reminded me to call the first place and cancel the order. Oops. I'd forgotten to do that. You have to understand. After all that pacing and waiting and calling and trying to calm the kids, I was a wee bit stressed and a way huge bit hungry and not thinking too clearly. Good thing he reminded me. So I picked up the phone and hit redial and said, "Hi. This is Mrs. CB. I'm going to have to cancel my order. It's taking way too long to get here and I just can't wait anymore." There was a slight pause before his exasperated (and a bit indignant) reply. "But Mrs. CB! You only ordered it one minute ago! I can't possibly get it there in less than a minute." HUH? Oops. Er, yeah. Redial. "OH! Sorry! No! No! No! I don't want to cancel the order. I made a mistake! Forget it! No, I mean, don't forget it! Send it quick!" Okay. Now you now why every time I see this man, I die of embarrassment. He probably thinks I'm nuts. Current Mood:  embarrassed | | Tuesday, December 27th, 2005 | | 8:50 pm |
Taking a break...
...from packing. We're going on a little family vacation. Leaving tomorrow after lunch, uh, if the packing is done by then. But you know what?? Packing for six people is a lot of work! I always think it's no big deal. I figure it will take an hour at the most. What's the big deal? Just throw clothes, underwear and pjs for everyone into a suitcase and we're done. But there's really so much more! Cameras, sippy cups, toys, books, travel games, ski-suits, goggles, swimsuits, sleds, little potty seat, shoes (cuz we'll be wearing boots when we leave), exercise shoes/clothes, toothbrushes and other toiletries--there's more, I'm sure. And WHERE ARE WE GOING TO PUT ALL THIS STUFF?? (Good thing we're plan on renting ski equipment and ice skates up there--otherwise the packing would be so overwhelming, I'd have to call off the trip.) I remember when we bought these suitcases. Boy, I thought the big one was SO huge. Now it seems tiny. Four pairs of snowpants and the thing is half full already. Ah well. At least I'm looking at it as half full instead of half empty. That's optimistic. That's a good thing, isn't it? Or maybe that's only with glasses of water. Maybe with suitcases, looking at them as half empty would be more optimistic. Yeah. I'm thinking a half-empty suitcase would be an optimistic point of view for somebody who has a TON of stuff to pack and doesn't want to have to schlep 18 pieces of luggage out to the car. Great. So now I'm overwhelmed AND pessimistic. And whining. And procrastinating. Not good. I spent a good chunk of the day lost in my thoughts. I was thinking about how a positive attitude is absolutely vital for happiness and health. I was thinking about the mind-body connection and how easily an unhealthy emotional state can contribute to an unhealthy physical state. And I expect when I finish packing I'll be in a much more positive and relaxed state of mind. Don't mind this post. I'm just taking a break. Talking to myself. Procrastinating. Stuff like that. I'm not trying to be entertaining or anything, in case you're wondering why this post is so boring... Break is over. Back to work. Current Mood:  busy | | Monday, December 26th, 2005 | | 10:43 am |
Cute! (At least I think so)
Okay, so I'm reading a book to my little three-year-old guy. I'm halfway through and he stops me. Little Guy: Mommy...What's the title? Me: (HUH? Does he mean the title of the book? Where did he get that from? First, I'm halfway through the book and second, I've never used the word title, I usually just tell him "the book is called Whatever.") Um, okay...(flipping to the front cover)...The title is...Whatever. I continue reading and he stops me again. Little Guy: What's the istrater? Me: WHAT? Little Guy: What's the istrater? Me: Do you mean illustrator? You want to know who the illustrator is? (I'm so sure he has no idea what that means. But it sure sounds cute.) Little Guy: Yes. What's the istrater? Me: (Checking the cover of the book again) Okay, the illustrator is...Whomever. Little Guy: And what's the osser? Me: (Okay, by this point, I was expecting that one.) The author is...Whomever. Little Guy: Okay. Now read it. Me: Wait a minute, honey. Do you know what an illustrator is? Little Guy: No. Me: Do you know what an author is? Little Guy: No. Me: Okaaaay. Obviously when his teacher reads books at storytime, she introduces them with the title, author and illustrator. I guess that's officially the correct way to do it, but in my own home, I don't bother. If I were reading in a public place or to a group of kids, I'm sure I would do it the teacher way, but when it's just me and my little guy, snuggling on the sofa with a book, I never even thought about announcing the title, author and illustrator. Do you all do that? (And yes, I explained to him what illustrator and author mean.) | | Monday, December 19th, 2005 | | 10:29 am |
| You are White Chocolate | 
You have a strong feminine side with a good bit of innocence thrown in.
Whether your girlish ways are an act or not, men like to take care of you.
You are an understated beauty, and your power is often underestimated! |
This is the first one of these blog quizzes I ever managed to complete. It had questions I could actually answer with the choices given. And white chocolate is my absolute favorite (followed closely by milk chocolate), so I am in complete agreement with the results. | | Sunday, December 18th, 2005 | | 4:42 pm |
The Nincompoop Club
I never had a problem with being a SAHM. In fact, I was grateful and happy that I was able to be one. I felt that what I was doing was valuable and important, albeit sometimes less than glamorous. Well, several months ago, at a family gathering, my aunt told how she made the decision NOT to be a SAHM. This is my aunt talking: "My mother (that would be CB's grandmother) was a SAHM. And I watched what she did all day. She did things like...laundry. She took the dirty clothes out of the washing machine and put them in the dryer. Well, I watched this and I thought to myself--ANY NINCOMPOOP CAN DO THAT!! Well, I wasn't going to waste my life doing things that any old nincompoop could do." Hmmmpph! Ever since I heard those words, they've been echoing in my head. At first, it was only when I did the laundry. And I tried to tell myself it wasn't true. Not any nincompoop can do the laundry. Some nincompoops can't do it. Some nincompoops shrink all the t-shirts and turn all the white socks pink. Some nincompoops don't know how to load the washer properly and the machine goes jumping all over the laundry room and eventually breaks. I'm not that kind of nincompoop. I'm a smarter nincompoop than that. But I don't want to be a nincompoop at all. And every time I do the laundy, I feel like I must be a nincompoop. My aunt never has to do her own laundry. She worked really hard, became a doctor (a specialist--ooh la la) and hired herself a nincompoop. A fulltime, live-in nincompoop, who also cooks and cleans and does all those things that any old nincompoop can do. So whenever her words come back to haunt me, I need something to tell myself to counter what she said. So far, I haven't come up with anything great (there's nincompoopdom for you). At first I thought, "Well, I'm doing more than laundry and dishes. I'm raising my kids and all that." But that doesn't work, because my aunt somehow managed to raise her kids really well AND do something worthwhile out of the house as well. So I tell myself not to compare...which is fine, but that nincompoop line keeps coming back to me. It makes me not want to do laundry anymore. Or housework. Any housework. At all. Because I don't want to be a nincompoop. And I wonder why I'm wasting my life doing things that any old nincompoop can do. And don't ask what the point of this post is. Nincompoops aren't expected to post intelligently, are they? Oh, does anybody want to join the Nincompoop Club? We can spend hours discussing which laundry detergents are best, the different choices in fabric softener, and other nincompoopery things. Oh, dear. The dryer's buzzing. (Note for non-nincompoops: That means it's time to take the clean, dry clothing out of the dryer and to switch the clean, wet laundry from the washer to the dryer.) Of course any old nincompoop can do it, but I'm the only nincompoop around right now, so I guess I'll do it. See ya! Current Mood: nincompoopy | | Thursday, December 15th, 2005 | | 10:28 am |
Tests are in...
And all the results are normal. Phew! But, hey? So what's going on?? He's still complaining about his symptoms... Well, the doc decided to send him for a sinus X-RAY, and a chest X-RAY yesterday, but he said he thinks they'll come back normal and it will be a case of, "everything's fine...have a nice life." I asked if he thought an MRI was warranted. He said it did cross his mind, but after listening to my son--let's call him N--describe his symptoms, he doesn't see any reason to do an MRI. He mentioned that some of the symptoms might be psychosomatic, which is interesting because I was just about to ask him if he thinks stress could be a factor. I've always known N was sort of uptight and high-strung. But lately, things have been coming to my attention that make me think the poor kid is completely stressing himself out and is possibly on the verge(if not already past the point) of burnout. He's got a teacher, let's call him Mr. Tough, who has a reputation for pushing the kids relentlessly to reach their highest potential and to take life and learning super-seriously. Many of my friends complain about how strict and how tough Mr. Tough is, how much homework he gives, and how incredibly high his expectations are. Well, this very same Mr. Tough called me last week to tell me that N is too much of a perfectionist and takes his studies too seriously. He said, "This kid really needs to chill!" He took N out of the classroom a couple of times this week to talk to him. He even suggested that N try to sleep with a noise machine (you know, rain falling, ocean waves, etc.) to help him relax and he offered to lend him one to see if he likes it. N said no thanks. But whoa! After talking to Mr. Tough and to N, I realized that N needs more playtime, more relaxation time. I cancelled his speech therapy, because I know he hates it. So he'll say wabbit instead of rabbit, I guess. What can we do? It's weally not wouth having a newvous bweakdown ovew, is it? I let him drop out of his swimming lessons, because lately he hates that, too. And Mr Tough even said that N should only do 15 minutes of homework a night--a real 15 minutes--set the timer and when it dings, he's done-whether he's done or not. Mr. Tough asked N if he'd like to speak to the school social worker, but N declined. He doesn't know her and doesn't want to talk to a stranger. N wants to succeed in a major way. And he usually does. He's a straight A student and he always does his homework, gets 100 on all his tests...he just excels. He's in a french-immersion school (well, kind of...they speak more English than they're supposed to, but officially, it's french-immersion). This is his first year there. Most of the other kids have been there since Kindergarten. N has already caught up to most of the kids in his class, and is doing better than kids who speak French at home. N had never heard a word of french before September and he's at the top of his class, a drop behind the strongest student--who happens to be from a French-speaking home. Last night, I met with N's french teacher. He told me a funny story about N. One day, the class was behaving so badly that the teacher spent the whole time disciplining. He didn't end up teaching anything at all that day because of it. N was NOT one of the troublemaking children and when that period was over, N passed a note of complaint to the teacher: "We didn't learn anything today!" That's N. Instead of sitting back and enjoying the show (the class going wild and making all sorts of trouble), he was frustrated and upset that he didn't learn anything. N is proud of his perfectionism. I don't see any sign of him even wanting to change that. He really does need to learn to chill. You see, he used to be happy. High-strung, but still happy. These days, he doesn't seem happy anymore, just high-strung. This is what Mr. Tough pointed out to me and think he's got a point. So, I'm seriously thinking that all of his physical symptoms stem from stress. Sad for a such a sweet, little 8 year-old kid. But it's better than any of the physical illnesses or possibilities that I was wondering about last week...Now, I just have to figure out a way to help him learn to CHILL and see if that eases his symptoms. Easier said than done. | | Thursday, December 8th, 2005 | | 4:28 pm |
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