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Counting the Minutes

OMG I cannot WAIT. This preview for the Half-Blood Prince looks so fracking awesome. A mere 113 days left! Time to plan the party!

Speaking of parties, tomorrow is Harry Potter’s 29th birthday. I think. See? He’s not too young for me. Enjoy some butterbeer in celebration!

…but she picked me up with her mind powers and shook me like a dog!

Last night I lay, full of needles, on a warm table and suddenly, as my acupuncturist was leaving me to rest alone in the dark, I thought to ask her a question that burns in my mind at least once each visit.

“Oh, hey! What do I do if there’s an earthquake?”
“I run in and save you.”

Which is possibly the best answer ever. But she also went into more detail and as she was leaving I remarked, “I just wanted to know. I always wonder and forget to ask. And then I try to stop thinking about it in case my mind powers make one happen right then.”

“And your mind is that powerful.”
“I know.”

So guess what? Yup. There was an earthquake today. OK, so what if I didn’t feel it? The point is that my mind is that powerful.

I have more serious and important things to speak of, but if you want to hear them you have to hire me a babysitter, clean my house, and check off several things off my To Do List. In the mean time I will leave you with this photo of The Husband and one half of Darlton.

My New Favorite Rapper

Because anyone who will take on Bill O’Reilly is a friend of mine.  Also he’s quite funny.  And so is Steven Colbert.

It’s been a good week for my mailbox.

I’ve been shopping. A few weeks ago my AP message board got together and purchased 50 of these skirts so we could get a good deal. And it was a good deal. Instead of the $40 each at the swap meet, I got four for about that price. WOO! I love them so much I am hoping to do another co-op locally (anyone want in?).

And then last week I spent some time using keywords like “curvy woman” on Etsy and found some other awesome things I had to have. (But, really, I need pretty much everything in Mamacita’s shop.)

I love Etsy. I love that I can find stunningly beautiful, yet fun and funky things for prices I can afford. And I love that they are handmade and that I can support an artist instead of buying some mainstream piece of crap that will break the second time I wear it.

My daughter spent awhile today ranting and raving about she never gets anything new or pretty or “big”. Because, really I lock her in a dark closet and give her Q-Tips to play with. Heaven forbid mom gets something for herself, eh? Lesson learned. (Not really.)

Me and My Camera

And no kids.

After a long (God, it was long) and trying (God, it was trying) day, I escaped a bit to get some fresh air, exercise, and photography at the Classic Car Show around the corner. Today was, apparently, VW Day and so I felt a bit guilty that The Husband did not go, but oh well. I got lots of pictures for him.

Click here to see the whole set.

Shut My Mouth

Yesterday my daughter told me, “I’m sorry I never said this before, but I’m sorry for crawling into bed with you at grandpa’s house.”  I was floored.  It’s been nearly two years since we visited my dad, and my poor girl has had this on her heart the whole time?  I don’t even remember what she’s talking about, really, but it’s not unlike me to be grumpy when I am tired.  And travelling alone with two kids (to a house which is not remotely childproofed), in the bitter cold (that’s 35-45 degrees if you are counting), while running all over St Louis and back for eight days will make me rather tired.  So I imagine I was grumpy about being tired and trying to fit us all in one full-sized bed and I must have snapped at her.  And she has held that to herself all this time, taking responsibility.  My God.

I explained to her yesterday that I wasn’t mad at HER at all – but I was frustrated with the situation.  I went on to say that 90% of the time I am irritated with her, it’s not her, but what Life is throwing at me that second.  I told her to please ask me if she ever wasn’t sure where my big, loud feelings were directed.

Because my feelings are big and loud.  Much like hers.  And I tend to verbalize every damn thing that goes through my head.  I’ve learned now that I have got to stop.  It’s OK to keep my mouth shut and I must do this.  Must. 

How?  That’s an entirely different question.  I think duct tape might work, though.

Fish oil, fish oil. Eat it up, yum.

I have heard of the benefits of cod liver oil before and had even tried it before, but I made the mistake of trying the liquid stuff. The flavor itself is fine since the manufacturers mask anything fishy, but the texture is really hard to swallow. Pun intended. M recently tried a kid’s one we got in a sample pack in a Vitacost.com order, and, after biting in, announced, “UGH. It tastes like butter!” Indeed.

But after four years (or my whole adult life?) of struggling with depression and feelings of disorganization, laziness, inadequacy, and just generally being overwhelmed, I bought a bottle of (mercury-free) capsules and took them religiously for a month. And I really did begin to feel better. I let myself run out to see if I noticed a difference. And I did. All the old frustrations came back. I felt heavier. It was hard to make myself do the simple daily things I knew I should be able to do.

So I re-ordered the stuff, this time two bottles. And this time, I doubled the dose. And sure enough. I feel GREAT. Not just good, but GREAT. I feel – for once in my life – normal! And that makes me feel high.

On top of all that, I finally (somehow) got the husband to really purge his stuff and in the process I also purged my closet and the household closets. He took all that stuff to the swap meet and only came home with what could fit inside his closet (this was part of the requirements). Now my closets are all organized and I have room in my closet for stuff that has no other home (like the ginormous stack of construction paper I bought – pictures to come). So I feel happy upon happy.

But two nights ago, all that depression began to come back. I started to feel dread settle in the pit of my stomach. It was just like all those other times I felt good – fleeting.

When I woke up yesterday morning I made a list of all the things that had happened in the previous 24 hours:

~We were supposed to go to a field trip, but most people were dropping out and I felt disappointed about that. (They all ended up showing up, by the way.)
~I started a loaf of bread in the breadmaker with almost the last of my fancy flour, but it f-ed up. I can’t COOK the sprouted flours in there, but it usually makes delicious dough for me to bake in the oven. I think the humidity did it in. So I’m almost out of spelt flour and it’s not cheap and I wasted three cups of it.
~E has been having hives for almost a week now and I have no idea why. He won’t take benedryl or anything else. It’s taking him two hours each night to fall asleep because he’s so miserable itching all over. And they always strike just at bedtime.
~Oh and he also twisted his arm real good last night simply climbing into his car seat. At the bizarre angle I saw him stuck at, I was sure he’d dislocated the shoulder, but he’s totally fine.
~The internet is not working properly on my laptop and I have not been able to do any work in two days. And there is an ungodly amount to be done. I think it needs a new wireless card maybe? Mind you, I only bought the thing in November.
~The Husband is on my back about making the web designer add all the tags for me and change all the links, but I’m not sure its her responsibility anyway.
~On top of all that I was exhausted running tons of errands, worried about contracting fleas from the neighbor, and too busy to get any housework done (let alone put away the groceries).

Looking at that list relieved me like you would not believe. It was just situational depression. Well-earned, I think. Once I solved what problems I could, and let my worries about the rest go, I feel back to normal again.

I’m still a little wary of losing this beautiful sanity, but I am feeling more secure each day that I may have found myself for the first time. God bless fish oil!

Feed My Knee

My son has been having hives. Again. He did this two years ago, but things are a bit worse this time so I’ve given him Benedryl for it. Because a good night’s sleep benefits us all. The thing about that is that my son hates taking medicine. And that is an understatement. Once – literally – he puked when I aimed some Tylenol at him. But now he is verbal and has moderate reasoning skillz which I try to use to my advantage. But he also uses to his advantage. When I aimed the medicine at him this time, he stopped me and said, “No, Mommy. Not in my mouth.” And then, in dead seriousness, continued, “Put it in my knee.”

Alligators All Around, Indeed

When I was a kid, one of my earliest obsessions was with Maurice Sendak’s musical, Really Rosie. With music by Carole King, what’s not to love? Plus, I had a crush on Chicken Soup. Not the food. The character.

I mean, look at him…. Short pants, chef hat, strange obsession with canned food? It’s not hard to see why he was my first-ever crush. Well, aside from Skipper Brown in the first grade. I used to write him notes that said, “I love you,” and crawl across the room to put them on his desk. But, alas, it was not meant to be and so I had to find solace in the form of my first (but not last!) cartoon crush.

So last week when I got an e-mail on a local list about free tickets to a Junior Theatre production of the musical, I jumped all over that. Unfortunately, I was too late. The tickets were already spoken for. I decided to go anyway, so I bought tickets pretty much that very instant.

M and I arrived at Balboa Park too early Friday night so we spent some time enjoying the park (well, really, are you ever “too early” in Balboa Park?). We looked at the old climbing tree, tried not to fall in a fountain (and succeeded, I might add), spotted fairies in the butterfly garden, and then decided to head on over to the theatre.

We sat in our seats and chatted while we waited. I began to notice a little girl peering down into the orchestra pit and thought she looked a bit like Elaine’s little girl, Lily. The more I looked, the more curious I became. I decided to scan the audience for Elaine herself. And sure enough. There she was. And can you guess who she was sitting next to? Yes! It was Ewan McGregor! Just kidding! It was the woman who had offered the free tickets. It dawned on me…. it was Elaine who stole my tickets. *ahem* I mean, got to them first. Yeah.

So I went over there and kicked her ass said hello.

The show was great. As Elaine put it, it seemed like they were playing a game of “How Many Kids Can We Fit Onstage?” But overall, it was very enjoyable. Traditionally, I have not been fond of Johnny because, as a rule, I do not like cowboys. But this kid was so damn cute I wanted to put him on a shelf somewhere to keep forever.

At intermission Elaine and company found us and the girls ran screaming into the dark while we critiqued the show. We also decided that an awesome idea would be to take the girls out after their bedtimes and feed them lots of sugar. Probably, we were on drugs. The drugs weren’t wrong, though. We had a good time (except for the time when I spat all over Elaine’s face. Note to, um, everyone: don’t sit across from me if there may be any funny thing happening, like, ever.), the kids got silly, but not unusually so – I mean they are kids.

It was a lovely evening. M has been listening to and memorizing all the words to the soundtrack ever since. But as far as I know, she does not have a crush on any of the characters. Which is probably for the best.