closet_blogger

THINGS THAT BUG ME

2006-06-22T02:22:42Z

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.

OH, THE UPS AND DOWNS!

2006-06-20T23:19:25Z

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.)

A QUESTION FOR THE BRAVE

2006-06-18T03:27:57Z

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?

Frustration!

2006-06-15T21:46:19Z

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.

closet_blogger @ 2006-05-24T16:47:00

2006-05-24T20:49:17Z

There. I think that's accurate.

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Am I A Chocoholic?

2006-05-08T20:32:05Z

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?

A Rejection That Made Me Laugh!

2006-03-28T18:53:50Z

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!)

closet_blogger @ 2006-03-26T19:25:00

2006-03-27T01:08:10Z

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.

I took it again, because I was torn between many of the choices

2006-03-24T13:57:44Z

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.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

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.

closet_blogger @ 2006-03-24T08:42:00

2006-03-24T13:45:48Z

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.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

I wish I were that funny.

Been Busy

2006-02-17T01:26:44Z

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!

Revision complete!

2006-01-17T02:57:59Z

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...

Tooth Fairies and Diaries

2006-01-15T19:00:11Z

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.

Talking Pizza Again

2006-01-08T02:29:18Z

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.

Taking a break...

2005-12-28T02:21:59Z

...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.

Cute! (At least I think so)

2005-12-26T16:10:43Z

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.)

closet_blogger @ 2005-12-19T10:29:00

2005-12-19T15:31:22Z

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!

What Kind of Chocolate Are You?

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.

The Nincompoop Club

2005-12-18T22:12:35Z

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!

Tests are in...

2005-12-15T16:13:50Z

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.

I'm not a foodie or anything, but I just have to say...

2005-12-08T21:31:22Z

IT'S MAROC SEASON AND I'M LOVING IT!!! WOOHOO!!

(If there's anyone out there who doesn't know what Marocs are, please accept my deepest heartfelt sympathies.)

Medical tests...and wondering...and wondering...and wondering...(Long title to match the long text!)

2005-12-06T17:20:09Z

I hurt my finger when I was 15 years old. It was so painful, I was sure it was broken. I begged my parents to take me to the hospital. But they didn't want to. I guess having 8 kids, all close in age, can make people kind of...busy. So they were hoping my finger would just get better on its own without their involvement. Anyhow, I really, really begged.

Me: PLeeeeeaase! It's killing me! I'm sure it's broken!
Father: Does it hurt?
Me: Yes!
Father: Well, then it's for sure not broken. If it were broken, it wouldn't hurt.
Me: (Huh?) You're just too busy to take me. You can't be bothered.
Father: Is it red and swollen?
Me: Yes! Yes!
Father: Oh, red and swollen means it's bruised, not broken. Put ice on it, you'll be fine.
Me: (Very whiney) But ice won't fix my broken bone...
Father: Fine, fine. I'll take you. But you better be right. It better be broken.
Me: It is. I'm sure! (Wondering, worrying...uh-oh, what if it's not broken?)

At the hospital, after the XRay:

Doc: Yep. It's broken.
Me: YES!! (Turning to father: SEE?? I told you!)

That's how it always went, pretty much. Whenever I wasn't feeling well, I felt like nobody believed me and I needed the medical tests to prove that I was telling the truth. To me, a normal medical test result felt like failure.

But now, one of my own kids is having a weird set of symptoms. The only thing he hasn't complained about yet is liver pain. He's having all kinds of aches and pains: chest pains, stomachaches, joint pains, weak legs, headache, dizziness, nausea, also weird things, like um, visual disturbances...the blinds look like they're swaying...but they're really not...the room is spinning...his head is spinning...things look smaller, farther away, distorted in a way that he can't really explain other than saying, "I'm getting tricky eyes again"...he's hearing his own thoughts booming loudly in his head...very loud...sometimes echoing...and other similarly weird visual and auditory hallucination-type things that I find a bit disconcerting.

But, you know what? He looks just fine to me. Absolutely fine. He looked fine to the pediatrition, too. And you know what else? He seems to be enjoying all this attention immensely. He wants me to come and sit down and talk to him every night and every morning and fifty times throughout the day so he can tell me all about his symptoms. He's missing a lot of school because of doctor's appointments and medical tests and general not feeling well, too dizzy to go to school.

The only thing that I do notice is he looks kinda pale. He has a very fair complexion, so I'm not even 100% sure about this, but I do think he looks a bit more pale than usual. He also showed me a bruise/cut on his back that he said he got falling down a few stairs. He said he was dizzy and his legs got wobbly and he fell and scraped his back. That got him two day of staying home from school, even though he seemed completely fine, outwardly, except for all of his complaints, which I really cannot see or verify in any way whatsoever.

When he goes up the stairs, he hangs on for dear life and takes ten times longer than usual--it's a bit dramatic, to say the least. But one day last week, he suddenly remembered he wanted to run downstairs to get something and he took off so quickly and excitedly that I snuck up behind him quietly and watched him do the stairs (Yes! Three adverbs in one sentence. In case you thought you were hallucinating, you weren't). He ran down and up, no problem. What's going on with this kid?? The falling down the stairs booboo on his back is really there (unless my eyes are playing tricks on me too)! So I know that really happened...

I don't believe he made up these symptoms. Maybe the aches and pains. A kid knows to say, "this hurts" or "that hurts." But what kid would ever come up with the idea that his eyes were playing tricks on him if it weren't happening? Why would he say he was hearing voices? (Ooh...maybe he's a writer...writers often say they hear voices...) Is there some book out that he might have read this in? He doesn't watch TV...I don't know where he would have gotten this from, if it weren't really happening. Maybe it's not happening as often or as severely as he's saying...but I do believe that it did happen, at least a few times, because I can't believe he would have just made these things up out of the blue. Is my logic flawed here? Am I underestimating a child's imaginative capabilities? He does have a very vivid imagination, but this is beyond imagination...is it not?

Anyhow, this morning he had an EEG. The doctor wants to rule out a seizure disorder. (A friend of mine who has epilepsy was just in the hospital for a couple of weeks for observation...some kind of medical study...and he said there was a woman there who had seizures that entailed visual and auditory hallucinations. He had never heard of such a thing before and he thought it was fascinating. For a few days, I was wondered if my son WAS having seizures, and actually I still do wonder...especially after reading all those STUPID online medical sites that can turn anyone into a hypochondriac in two mouse clicks.)

Back to this morning's EEG, he just loved missing school and telling everybody in school that he had to go for a test at the hospital. On the way to the hospital, he told me, "This test is going to prove that it's really happening. I'm telling the truth. You'll see."

I know he hopes he's right. But I truly hope he's wrong. On the other hand, if the tests all come back normal...then what's going on with my kid? Why is he having all these weird symptoms? It's frustrating not knowing if or why these things are happening to him. The doctor said that if the tests come back normal, he can confidently make a diagnosis of migraine headaches. I'm not a migraine sufferer, I don't even know that much about migraines, but people I know who have migraines never experienced such weird things...maybe the vertigo stuff, yes...but visual and auditory hallucinations?? No. Well, I do have one friend who sees spots right before her migraines come on...but could he be having a migraine for over a week? Could he be having constant seizures all week? Who knows?

Anyhow, I watched the screen during the EEG and the whole time I was berating myself for not becoming an expert on reading EEG results...I should have spent the last week at the library or online researching and learning about this. When the lines on the screen went crazy, I didn't know if that was because he had just squeezed his eyes tight and was making faces, moving his lips, etc. (The kid couldn't lie perfectly still and relax like he was supposed to.) Now I have to wait a week for the results to get back to my doctor. And even then, I'm going to question them, because the kid was moving around so much...I think that affects the accuracy of the results. Of course, I'm no expert (kicking myself), so what do I know? Maybe I should trust the technician who ran the test...even though most of the time she had her eyes on the screen and wasn't watching him carefully enough to see the correlation between his movements and the lines on the screen going bonkers.

Now I'm rambling. Sorry. I need to stop looking for answers on the Internet and just pray for him to get better...if he's even not well in the first place. Sigh. Maybe they should have given him a lie detector test instead? Okay, if he turns out to really have some kind of medical issue or something...I'm going to feel badly about wondering whether he's been truthful or not. But really, he seems just fine. And at least he didn't have to BEG me to take him to the doctor. You have to give me that. I'm taking him and his alleged symptoms seriously. But it is quite comforting to entertain the thought that he's just making it up...looking for attention...wanting to miss school...

Well. Whatever will be, will be. No sympathy for me. I'm okay. A bit more stressed than usual, just because of the not knowing. The doubt and wondering eats away at me. But deep down, I know that whatever happens is God's will and who am I to question that?

Okay, I've done it.

2005-11-30T15:14:16Z

I've known I needed to do this for a while, and now I've done it.

I've joined Flylady.

There. I feel better already.

About Friendship

2005-11-27T22:08:36Z

My daughter showed me a booklet she received at school. There was a lot of sweet stuff in there, but I'm sharing the things that jumped out at me the most.

(I have no idea who wrote this stuff, as it's not attributed to anybody in particular...so I guess it's by that famous author known as "Anonymous".)

Quotable Quotes

*A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.

*If all my friends were to jump off a bridge, I wouldn't jump in with them. I'd be at the bottom to catch them.

* When you're in joy together, it's double the joy. When you're in pain together, it's half the pain.

*A true friend is not someone who sits in the limousine beside you; a true friend is someone who sits with you in the taxi when the limousine breaks down.

*The best way to have a friend is to be one.

This lovely poem was also in there, written by Ms Anonymous, as well.

Friendship

Friendship is a priceless gift,
That can't be bought or sold,
But it's value is far greater
Than a mountain full of gold.

Gold is cold and lifeless,
It can neither see nor hear,
And in a time of trouble
It is poweress to cheer.

It has no ear to listen,
No heart to understand,
It cannot bring you comfort,
Or reach out a helping hand.

So when you ask God for a gift,
Be thankful if He sends,
Not diamonds, pearls or riches,
But the love of real true friends!

That's all for today, folks! Gotta go make supper!

Love to all my friends out there!

Beginning Again Now

2005-11-23T00:39:25Z

***Warning--this is serious, scary stuff! No jokes in here, nothing funny at all. You can read on if you like, but don't say I didn't warn you.***

Ever since I met the Internet, I've been struggling with this horrible time-waster. This whole issue really bugs me--not while I'm online, but later, when I realize how much time I've wasted and how many good, important things I could have done, had I not been online all day. (By the way, I'm not counting writing time here...just the goofing around, wasting time thing.)

Last week, when I went to the grocery store, as I was parking my car, a woman came over and asked for money. She said she had no money and needed to buy food. So I gave her what little money I had (this is the Plastic Age--I hardly ever have more than two dollars cash in my purse) and she thanked me and went on to ask some other people. Afterwards, I was expecting her to go into the supermarket to buy herself some food, but she didn't. She left the parking lot and headed out towards the main street. I wondered where she was going. Was she going to the McD down the street? Is that the food she wanted to buy? Or maybe she wasn't going to buy food with it at all. Maybe she was going to buy cigarettes, or booze, or something else...

Then I wondered if (and why) it was my business how the woman spent the money. Not really, I know. I only gave the woman my spare change...LOL! But if I would have given her more money--like $20, I think I would have had more reason to feel it was my business. And if I'd given her $100 (which I doubt I'd ever have done, but bear with my thought process here), then I would most certainly feel entitled to knowing (and being satisfying with) how she spent the money. And what if I had given her $1000 and then followed her to see where she went (which is what I probably WOULD do if I gave her that much)? What if I then saw her take that $1000 and dollar by dollar rip it to shreds and throw it to the wind, laughing with glee? And what if when she was finished doing that and the last dollar was gone, she came over to me and said, "Hey! That was awesome fun!! Can I have some more money?"

Well, I don't think I'd be too pleased. And I'm sure I wouldn't ever give her another dollar! Why should I give money to somebody who doesn't appreciate it's value and doesn't know how to use it properly? I can't think of a single good reason. Not one.

Then, I got to thinking...(this is scary, folks, so feel free to stop reading right here) Isn't that what I myself am guilty of ? Aren't I that lady, throwing $1000 dollars out and laughing??

Hasn't God given me the most valuable gifts of life and time? Much more valuable than $1000, or even a million! Well, how does He feel watching me twiddle my time (the time that He gave me) away, not accomplishing all that I can? Is He satisfied with the way I'm spending the time that He gave me? True, I'm not doing anything evil or bad (I hope!), but is it enough to just refrain from wrong-doing? I don't think so. I think God wants me to actively seek to do good. More and more good. He wants me to fill up my days (my time, a most generous and undeserved gift) with good deeds and doing His will. (By the way, to answer the question I brought up in an earlier post, THAT'S why I'm here on Earth!)

So is God watching me and thinking, "Why should I give life to somebody who doesn't appreciate its value and doesn't know how to use it properly?" (Ack! That's scary! Especially since I know that He can take it away whenever He chooses.)

Not only has He given me life, but He's given me countless other blessings as well. If I were to sit here all day, with a pile of notebooks to the ceiling, making a list, I still wouldn't be able to enumerate all the blessings that He's bestowed on me. (I might be down to listing things like eyelashes, to keep the dirt out of my eyes, and nose hair, to filter out the germs and other particles that wouldn't be safe to inhale...but I'd certainly not be finished my list!) And like I said, the more you give a person, the more you expect them to use it well.

So...I decided I'm going to begin again right now. (Okay, truthfully, I decided this on Sunday afternoon, after a certain incident that involved a cute little three-year-old, glitter glue and leather couches. But I've been so busy carrying it out that I haven't had time to blog about it till now.) I'm going to make a greater effort to appreciate the value of time, the value of all of the gifts that God has given me and I'm going to show Him that I appreciate them and that His gifts are being used in a worthwhile way.

I'm going to be online less now. I'm still going to write. I'm still going to crit people's mss. I'm still going to pop into my favorite writing message board (but only that one!) and congratulate people on their good news, or offer advice when I can. But I'm going to do it less often and be quicker at it. I don't need to read every single post. I don't need to read every single comment to every single blog.

I'm going to live my life first and take little breaks for the Internet, not the other way around! Whatever I'm doing, I'm going to constantly ask myself, "Is this how God wants me to use my time?" Because after all, He did give it to me, and He's watching how I spend it. And I do plan to ask Him for more. Lots more. And I hope I can prove to Him that I appreciate the value of time and I hope He is satisfied withme and sees me as a worthwhile recipient...

I'm putting this up on my blog to make myself more accountable. So, if you see me slipping and spending a lot of time online, posting like crazy at all hours of the day, please be a good soul and tell me off. I'm serious about this. Dead serious.

Thanks. :-)

Guess how many slices of pizza I ate last night

2005-11-20T14:41:54Z

Come on. Guess.