My high school boyfriend, my first love, my first relationship, SO CUTE, my first fiancé if you can imagine high school kids getting engaged, the guy I had to make join the military because I knew I couldn't otherwise break it off with him and I really needed to---called me today and talked to me for 45 minutes, and then I had to leave to take the kids to kindergarten, and he asked when I'd be back and if he could call me again, and I said yes, and he did call me back, and we talked for two more hours.
It was one of the most boring conversations of my life. I swear to you, he spent 45 minutes explaining how call centers work and why it's better not to outsource them. Another hour was about the company he owned, and why it went out of business 2 years ago. Another half-hour was the car accident he was involved in that was totally not his fault, and how unfair the outcome is likely to be. The only times he asked me anything about myself were when he wanted to use my answer as a springboard for his next point.
Part of the reason each topic took so long is that he paused so long between words and sentences I wondered if he might be on some sort of drug. A bigger part of the reason is that he seemed to have seriously ZERO concept of how to tell a story in a way that it would be worthy of the time it took. Like, I asked, "Why did your company close?" and he first wanted to explain how the real estate market works, and what caused the boom, and what caused the crash. With long pauses. Then an in-depth description of how his industry was related, and how members of his industry are trained. More pauses. Meanwhile I'm going "Uh huh, uh huh" and thinking "GET TO THE POINT FTLOG ARE YOU KIDDING ME???"
It's weird to think I used to wait by the phone for him to call, and not want him to hang up.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Reasons I Hate Everything Right Now
1. Started a new diet. The triumph of hope over experience, as the smarties say about a variety of things. I get so frustrated because I am not even trying to be THIN, I would just like to be LESS FAT or at least STOP GETTING FATTER, and even THOSE reasonable goals don't work.
2. My new exercise plan, which had gone well for several weeks (i.e., resulted in the usual discouraging weight gain, but I was nevertheless doing it six days a week and starting to see really good differences in ability), was thwarted by the time change, and so far I haven't found something else that works (i.e., that I am able to make myself do).
3. Weaning off Paxil. It seems like such a waste, when it takes so much effort to start seeing a psychiatrist. But I've been trying different medications for over two years now, and nothing was doing enough good to justify the appointment hassles and potential side effects. Or so I felt while I was on it. We'll see. I'd forgotten how easily I cry when I'm not on medication. I'm almost completely off it now, taking a 1/4 dose every 2-3 days.
4. Repeatedly screwing up a baby gift. I keep fumbling it for some reason, and wasting time checking stores that don't have what I want, and then driving 30 minutes to another store that I think might have good clearance stuff, and then I'm there and they don't and I think, "Wait, why did I drive so far for this?" And then I finally chose something (a sweet and cozy 3-piece Carter's set), and got it home and read the tag and see that "newborn" size is 5-8 pounds. While yes, I guess that IS a range that includes what newborns weigh, this was an 8-pound baby and it would be nice if she didn't outgrow the outfit before it got to her in the mail. And besides, the baby has an older sister so I doubt she needs any clothes. So now I need to return it and start over, and for some reason this one silly chore is making me feel overwhelmed and stupid---and even more so because I LOVE shopping for baby gifts, so what is going so wrong with this one?
5. Mike and I have shared a bed for FIFTEEN YEARS and he still can't remember that I can't sleep if someone's snuggled in. I KNOW he's a snuggler, and so sometimes I'm willing to lie awake for an extra hour so that he can snuggle to sleep (I mean, it doesn't take him an hour to fall asleep, he's out in 5 minutes---but then it takes ME an hour to get to sleep after missing my own sleep window), but yesterday our youngest child got us up for the day at 4:00 a.m., so last night I wanted to SLEEP---and Mike WOKE ME UP at 11:00 by snuggling in.
6. I'm doing my annual Christmas Flux, where one minute I'm all "Yay I love Christmas, time to do cards, time for Christmas songs on the radio, time to put up a PRETTY SHINY TREE!!" and the next minute I'm all "What's the point, why do we even bother, crap there's so much to do, I'm so sick of getting bombarded with SALE SALE SALE OMG SALE!!! emails, why do so many singers think singing a Christmas song reallllly slow makes it more beautiful and meaningful?" I'm trying to keep in mind the various wise things I've read about making Christmas simpler and more meaningful (Marie), and paring it down to the fun parts (Anne), but I'm still getting irritated.
7. The Snip situation, which, I don't even know what I think, but I hate it from every direction.
2. My new exercise plan, which had gone well for several weeks (i.e., resulted in the usual discouraging weight gain, but I was nevertheless doing it six days a week and starting to see really good differences in ability), was thwarted by the time change, and so far I haven't found something else that works (i.e., that I am able to make myself do).
3. Weaning off Paxil. It seems like such a waste, when it takes so much effort to start seeing a psychiatrist. But I've been trying different medications for over two years now, and nothing was doing enough good to justify the appointment hassles and potential side effects. Or so I felt while I was on it. We'll see. I'd forgotten how easily I cry when I'm not on medication. I'm almost completely off it now, taking a 1/4 dose every 2-3 days.
4. Repeatedly screwing up a baby gift. I keep fumbling it for some reason, and wasting time checking stores that don't have what I want, and then driving 30 minutes to another store that I think might have good clearance stuff, and then I'm there and they don't and I think, "Wait, why did I drive so far for this?" And then I finally chose something (a sweet and cozy 3-piece Carter's set), and got it home and read the tag and see that "newborn" size is 5-8 pounds. While yes, I guess that IS a range that includes what newborns weigh, this was an 8-pound baby and it would be nice if she didn't outgrow the outfit before it got to her in the mail. And besides, the baby has an older sister so I doubt she needs any clothes. So now I need to return it and start over, and for some reason this one silly chore is making me feel overwhelmed and stupid---and even more so because I LOVE shopping for baby gifts, so what is going so wrong with this one?
5. Mike and I have shared a bed for FIFTEEN YEARS and he still can't remember that I can't sleep if someone's snuggled in. I KNOW he's a snuggler, and so sometimes I'm willing to lie awake for an extra hour so that he can snuggle to sleep (I mean, it doesn't take him an hour to fall asleep, he's out in 5 minutes---but then it takes ME an hour to get to sleep after missing my own sleep window), but yesterday our youngest child got us up for the day at 4:00 a.m., so last night I wanted to SLEEP---and Mike WOKE ME UP at 11:00 by snuggling in.
6. I'm doing my annual Christmas Flux, where one minute I'm all "Yay I love Christmas, time to do cards, time for Christmas songs on the radio, time to put up a PRETTY SHINY TREE!!" and the next minute I'm all "What's the point, why do we even bother, crap there's so much to do, I'm so sick of getting bombarded with SALE SALE SALE OMG SALE!!! emails, why do so many singers think singing a Christmas song reallllly slow makes it more beautiful and meaningful?" I'm trying to keep in mind the various wise things I've read about making Christmas simpler and more meaningful (Marie), and paring it down to the fun parts (Anne), but I'm still getting irritated.
7. The Snip situation, which, I don't even know what I think, but I hate it from every direction.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Cold Comfort
I talked about it on my main blog, but I want to add a few notes here.
• One of many reasons I am thinking it's time for The Snip is birth control. The options suck, as we have discussed many times before. Right now I don't want to use hormonal birth control so we're using condoms/spermicide, and every time we use them I feel like I've been injured internally. Plus, if we use them two days in a row I get a UTI.
• Mike is a laid-back guy. It's one of his strong suits (as a neurotic over-fretter, I need his balance and calm), but it also means he's unlikely to make the appointment. If he waits too long, I'll stop using birth control and tell him so; that'll get him to the urologist in about 24 hours, is my guess. But I would resent being made to MANIPULATE him into something that is HIS CHOICE.
• I feel like this is his last chance to change his mind. I also feel that the fact that I am saying "Okay, go ahead and do it" gives me permission to make several last-ditch attempts: once the official surrender documentation is in place, the prisoner's entreaties don't have the same political impact. Tonight I said I thought his "no room in his heart for another baby" was bullshit, and I drew his attention specifically to our fifthborn, who is, frankly, his favorite, and I reminded him that he didn't think he had room for this one, but he did, and in fact he had more than enough room. Mike didn't argue, and he looked affectionately at fifthborn child as I was talking, and I know that he agrees with me---and yet I don't think it will change his mind.
• At this point, if he DID change his mind, I don't even know what I'd do. It's been two years since I thought I might die and/or divorce him if we didn't have another baby, and at this point I guess I must have mostly adjusted, because if he said, "You know what? I really think we should have just one more," I would have mixed feelings. Part of me would be ON THAT in about 2 seconds, and part of me would be thinking I'd rather risk having a baby than risk regretting one---and part of me would be thinking, "Hey, wait, really? The barfing, the worry, the diapers, the potty-training...?" ...Never mind: as I was typing that, I was doing the math and those tiny things don't even register on the scale against how wonderful it is to have another person here.
• So, if he said yes, I would have another baby. In fact, that's what kills me: that every month, another chance at a person disappears. The person who could have been absolutely essential to my continued happiness is gone forever. EVERY MONTH. And worse: we're running out of months, no matter what the decision is.
• I think the whole "both partners have to be 100% on board" thing is an enormous load of crap. ENORMOUS. load. of. crap. And I think it's used because it SOUNDS true---as do many other things that are believed fervently without any intellectual investment.
• I'd like to redirect my natural inclinations (loving babies, wanting babies), but it seems to me there isn't anywhere to put them. Before I had any children, I tried working in daycare, thinking that would help my baby fever---and I don't know how to explain it, but FAIL. The baby name blog helps. The idea of future grandchildren helps. Other people's pregnancies help. Buying baby things for charity helps. My niece, and the possibility of another niece or nephew---that helps. But there is no real outlet for this, um, "gift," this ability to want and love many sons and daughters. I'm stuck. People say "Be yourself! DO what you ARE!!" but sometimes that's not possible.
• At my last OB appointment I started crying and asked him to tell me when these baby cravings would GO AWAY, because this was RIDICULOUS. He said kindly, "Well, I can tell you this: the women in their sixties don't talk to me about it anymore." I was not comforted by this: after menopause, of COURSE women wouldn't be talking about it anymore to the OB. And my sixties are more than twenty years away. But I found his tone of voice comforting: it was sympathetic, and it implied that I was not the only one going through this. That I was not the only one crying to him in the exam room.
• I'll tell you where I find comfort right now: in thinking of each human being's insignificance, and in thinking that even if I DID have a sixth child, in a hundred years we'll still all be dead. My great-grandmother had eleven children (with two sets of twins), and now she is dead, and so are all her children, and it doesn't matter if she had always wanted a twelfth and pined the rest of her life, or if she'd wanted an eleventh and her husband didn't but went with it. Nothing matters. THAT is COMFORTING.
• One of many reasons I am thinking it's time for The Snip is birth control. The options suck, as we have discussed many times before. Right now I don't want to use hormonal birth control so we're using condoms/spermicide, and every time we use them I feel like I've been injured internally. Plus, if we use them two days in a row I get a UTI.
• Mike is a laid-back guy. It's one of his strong suits (as a neurotic over-fretter, I need his balance and calm), but it also means he's unlikely to make the appointment. If he waits too long, I'll stop using birth control and tell him so; that'll get him to the urologist in about 24 hours, is my guess. But I would resent being made to MANIPULATE him into something that is HIS CHOICE.
• I feel like this is his last chance to change his mind. I also feel that the fact that I am saying "Okay, go ahead and do it" gives me permission to make several last-ditch attempts: once the official surrender documentation is in place, the prisoner's entreaties don't have the same political impact. Tonight I said I thought his "no room in his heart for another baby" was bullshit, and I drew his attention specifically to our fifthborn, who is, frankly, his favorite, and I reminded him that he didn't think he had room for this one, but he did, and in fact he had more than enough room. Mike didn't argue, and he looked affectionately at fifthborn child as I was talking, and I know that he agrees with me---and yet I don't think it will change his mind.
• At this point, if he DID change his mind, I don't even know what I'd do. It's been two years since I thought I might die and/or divorce him if we didn't have another baby, and at this point I guess I must have mostly adjusted, because if he said, "You know what? I really think we should have just one more," I would have mixed feelings. Part of me would be ON THAT in about 2 seconds, and part of me would be thinking I'd rather risk having a baby than risk regretting one---and part of me would be thinking, "Hey, wait, really? The barfing, the worry, the diapers, the potty-training...?" ...Never mind: as I was typing that, I was doing the math and those tiny things don't even register on the scale against how wonderful it is to have another person here.
• So, if he said yes, I would have another baby. In fact, that's what kills me: that every month, another chance at a person disappears. The person who could have been absolutely essential to my continued happiness is gone forever. EVERY MONTH. And worse: we're running out of months, no matter what the decision is.
• I think the whole "both partners have to be 100% on board" thing is an enormous load of crap. ENORMOUS. load. of. crap. And I think it's used because it SOUNDS true---as do many other things that are believed fervently without any intellectual investment.
• I'd like to redirect my natural inclinations (loving babies, wanting babies), but it seems to me there isn't anywhere to put them. Before I had any children, I tried working in daycare, thinking that would help my baby fever---and I don't know how to explain it, but FAIL. The baby name blog helps. The idea of future grandchildren helps. Other people's pregnancies help. Buying baby things for charity helps. My niece, and the possibility of another niece or nephew---that helps. But there is no real outlet for this, um, "gift," this ability to want and love many sons and daughters. I'm stuck. People say "Be yourself! DO what you ARE!!" but sometimes that's not possible.
• At my last OB appointment I started crying and asked him to tell me when these baby cravings would GO AWAY, because this was RIDICULOUS. He said kindly, "Well, I can tell you this: the women in their sixties don't talk to me about it anymore." I was not comforted by this: after menopause, of COURSE women wouldn't be talking about it anymore to the OB. And my sixties are more than twenty years away. But I found his tone of voice comforting: it was sympathetic, and it implied that I was not the only one going through this. That I was not the only one crying to him in the exam room.
• I'll tell you where I find comfort right now: in thinking of each human being's insignificance, and in thinking that even if I DID have a sixth child, in a hundred years we'll still all be dead. My great-grandmother had eleven children (with two sets of twins), and now she is dead, and so are all her children, and it doesn't matter if she had always wanted a twelfth and pined the rest of her life, or if she'd wanted an eleventh and her husband didn't but went with it. Nothing matters. THAT is COMFORTING.
Beloved Relatives
A beloved, adored relative of mine made a crack about how yeah, we don't need any more of THAT in politics---with the word "that" being a skin-color reference.
I've written before about how this kind of thing knocks me right down. I feel like I can come to terms with the fact that there are ignorant, nasty jerks in the world, people who couldn't understand the word "rational" if you gave a six-part lecture series on the topic. What blows my mind is when a kind, good, intelligent, BELOVED person in my life has an ignorant, nasty, jerky opinion. I have trouble reconciling it.
Last time I wrote about this, a lot of you said that what you do is just love the person for the good in who they are, and let go of the bad stuff. I think this is good advice. I also find it hard to apply: my brain kicks against it. I hear someone say something awful, and my heart wilts. I can't love the person the way I otherwise could.
It's not a matter of requiring PERFECTION from the people I love, heavens no! Everyone is flawed, everyone screws up, etc. etc. OBV. It's that there's a huge difference between someone making a human mistake, and someone having a part of their brain that allows them to feel justified in believing something evil.
I've written before about how this kind of thing knocks me right down. I feel like I can come to terms with the fact that there are ignorant, nasty jerks in the world, people who couldn't understand the word "rational" if you gave a six-part lecture series on the topic. What blows my mind is when a kind, good, intelligent, BELOVED person in my life has an ignorant, nasty, jerky opinion. I have trouble reconciling it.
Last time I wrote about this, a lot of you said that what you do is just love the person for the good in who they are, and let go of the bad stuff. I think this is good advice. I also find it hard to apply: my brain kicks against it. I hear someone say something awful, and my heart wilts. I can't love the person the way I otherwise could.
It's not a matter of requiring PERFECTION from the people I love, heavens no! Everyone is flawed, everyone screws up, etc. etc. OBV. It's that there's a huge difference between someone making a human mistake, and someone having a part of their brain that allows them to feel justified in believing something evil.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Can't Say Later
As I mentioned in my last post, it's been a bad week or so: kids coughing, me with a sore throat and yet never quite catching the cold, and my mom completely finking out on the babysitting she claims to REALLY WANT to do, so that I never have free time anymore and feel even more oppressed by my children, who have been pains in the butt lately. Plus, I need both GYN and psych appointments, and there is no time to make them, and I can't bring all three little kids with me to either one, so I am feeling resentful and trapped as well as oppressed and irritated.
In fact, sitting in recliners in the living room with Mike and observing those children roiling around us, I felt a sapping of joy and energy, and I could feel the weight of the years of parenting still ahead, as well as a feeling of failing the parenting thing anyway (since the pain-in-the-buttedness is mostly stuff that we're telling them not to do and they're doing anyway). And I felt my increasing age, and the increasing age of my youngest, and the way the light of SOME freedom is only two years ahead, when my youngest will be in kindergarten a few hours a day and I can once again have the great luxury of going to the dentist now and then.
I turned to Mike and said, "You know, I think it may be time for..." and he made a snipping gesture while raising his eyebrows, and I said yes. And he said, "You've been going back and forth on this, so I won't go ahead and make the appointment. I'll let you do it, and then you can't say later that I'M the one who did it!"
He didn't say this all bitchy and you-crazy-lady the way it looks when I write it; it was good-humored and friendly, with even a tone of "I won't rush you into this---take your time." And I WOULDN'T be happy if I said, "You know, maybe..." and he was already dialing the number. But it was still a blindingly stupid thing to say. "So I can't say HE did it"? Does he seriously think that later on if I'm EVEN MORE regretful that we never had a sixth child, that he can turn up his palms and say, "Hey, you're the one who made the appointment with the urologist!"
It does not matter AT ALL who makes that appointment, it is still His Will Being Done. Me making the appointment would mean that I no longer wanted to mess around with the hormones that make me crazy or the condoms/spermicide that hurt my skin and give me UTIs, not that I'M the one who decided we were done having kids. It would mean that I was forced to GIVE IN to HIS decision, not that it was MY decision or even that I had any input on the decision. It would mean that I realized he was never going to change his mind, so I would be forced to bend to what he wanted. It would IN NO WAY mean that I "couldn't say" ANYTHING. I have been absolutely powerless in this decision about another child, and if making the appointment with the urologist is what symbolizes that decision for him, then he will make the appointment himself.
In fact, sitting in recliners in the living room with Mike and observing those children roiling around us, I felt a sapping of joy and energy, and I could feel the weight of the years of parenting still ahead, as well as a feeling of failing the parenting thing anyway (since the pain-in-the-buttedness is mostly stuff that we're telling them not to do and they're doing anyway). And I felt my increasing age, and the increasing age of my youngest, and the way the light of SOME freedom is only two years ahead, when my youngest will be in kindergarten a few hours a day and I can once again have the great luxury of going to the dentist now and then.
I turned to Mike and said, "You know, I think it may be time for..." and he made a snipping gesture while raising his eyebrows, and I said yes. And he said, "You've been going back and forth on this, so I won't go ahead and make the appointment. I'll let you do it, and then you can't say later that I'M the one who did it!"
He didn't say this all bitchy and you-crazy-lady the way it looks when I write it; it was good-humored and friendly, with even a tone of "I won't rush you into this---take your time." And I WOULDN'T be happy if I said, "You know, maybe..." and he was already dialing the number. But it was still a blindingly stupid thing to say. "So I can't say HE did it"? Does he seriously think that later on if I'm EVEN MORE regretful that we never had a sixth child, that he can turn up his palms and say, "Hey, you're the one who made the appointment with the urologist!"
It does not matter AT ALL who makes that appointment, it is still His Will Being Done. Me making the appointment would mean that I no longer wanted to mess around with the hormones that make me crazy or the condoms/spermicide that hurt my skin and give me UTIs, not that I'M the one who decided we were done having kids. It would mean that I was forced to GIVE IN to HIS decision, not that it was MY decision or even that I had any input on the decision. It would mean that I realized he was never going to change his mind, so I would be forced to bend to what he wanted. It would IN NO WAY mean that I "couldn't say" ANYTHING. I have been absolutely powerless in this decision about another child, and if making the appointment with the urologist is what symbolizes that decision for him, then he will make the appointment himself.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
No, I Get It
This has been a bad week. I've been almost but not quite getting a cold, and the kids have been unpleasant and challenging. I had a non-fight over email with my mother, who is reverting once again to her usual pattern of making family her absolute last priority and making sure we know it by her actions, but not admitting it---it's always "just such a crazy week."
In theory she takes the three little kids for four hours a week, and that's supposed to be the time when I can make my own appointments, but she cancels so often I definitely CAN'T make appointments. And then she's always just so dismayed! about how BUSY she is this week! She's just devastated that she can't take the kids, but of course NEXT week will be back to normal, WHEW!
So I finally said no, it wasn't just this week, it was every single week. And that it was actually worse to have hope of free time, so why don't we just not plan on it "until she was less busy." And she got miffed and canceled our weekly Saturday shopping trip, saying she was "sick." But oh, she will be better for church tomorrow, and for her lunch with a friend on Monday and her hair appointment Monday afternoon and her women's Bible study Tuesday morning and so on.
It's exactly like that anecdote that goes around about the professor teaching his students time management, the one that ends in either "There's always room for beer" or "There's always room for coffee," depending on the version. Leaving aside the punchline, that's what my mom does: she fills her jar right up to the top with pebbles and sand, and then laments that somehow she has no room at all for the bigger rocks. But it's totally not her fault! It's just her BUSY SCHEDULE! And if I even SUGGEST in a very passive sort of way that it's in any way unpleasant for me to get canceled on again and Again and AGAIN, she gets miffed and wounded, and acts like I just don't UNDERSTAND her WORK and her OBLIGATIONS. No, I get it. Her actions show them to me in a list, ranked, and I totally get it.
In theory she takes the three little kids for four hours a week, and that's supposed to be the time when I can make my own appointments, but she cancels so often I definitely CAN'T make appointments. And then she's always just so dismayed! about how BUSY she is this week! She's just devastated that she can't take the kids, but of course NEXT week will be back to normal, WHEW!
So I finally said no, it wasn't just this week, it was every single week. And that it was actually worse to have hope of free time, so why don't we just not plan on it "until she was less busy." And she got miffed and canceled our weekly Saturday shopping trip, saying she was "sick." But oh, she will be better for church tomorrow, and for her lunch with a friend on Monday and her hair appointment Monday afternoon and her women's Bible study Tuesday morning and so on.
It's exactly like that anecdote that goes around about the professor teaching his students time management, the one that ends in either "There's always room for beer" or "There's always room for coffee," depending on the version. Leaving aside the punchline, that's what my mom does: she fills her jar right up to the top with pebbles and sand, and then laments that somehow she has no room at all for the bigger rocks. But it's totally not her fault! It's just her BUSY SCHEDULE! And if I even SUGGEST in a very passive sort of way that it's in any way unpleasant for me to get canceled on again and Again and AGAIN, she gets miffed and wounded, and acts like I just don't UNDERSTAND her WORK and her OBLIGATIONS. No, I get it. Her actions show them to me in a list, ranked, and I totally get it.
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