Friday, March 31, 2006

Good bye Utah



HELLO NEW YORK!

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

I may not be over it yet

This past Saturday morning I spent my time cleaning up spray paint from somebody’s vandalizing “good time” on my house and 4 of my neighbor’s houses. I have to say that I felt more than a little violated even though it was absolutely random and not directed at anyone in particular. I can’t even imagine how people who have had their houses burglarized feel. And how sorry I feel for them. Because my knee jerk reaction was to “start packing and let’s move out of this neighborhood. See ya!” I have since calmed down from that but still. Still. Still I am quite upset at the world finally entering into my little bubble of life. I was going to write how very sad I was that we have so little respect for other people. How society was going downhill. And then I think back on the images on my television set showing Middle Eastern streets where you can’t even walk to work without fear of a suicide bomber. I think back to the documentary on poverty in America where there is a whole town 75 miles outside Chicago with no running water. And I am going to go all ga-ga about somebody spray painting something on my house? And yet, yes I am. I may not be going out and joining the peace corp to go help out in a third world country and I may not be as politically active as I would like or think I should be but I am NOT going out of my way to destroy things of value. I am NOT spending my time writing racial slurs and sailor type profanity on fences for hundreds of children to read. I am NOT trying to make a neighborhood feel less secure and more suspicious of all who walk the streets. And I did not do that when I was younger either. That is a ridiculous excuse.
And it wasn’t the actual defacing of my house, my material possessions that made me so mad about this. (Because Goof Off took it off completely and really fast too.) It truly dismays me that humans are using their precious life energy for vile and vindictive acts. And that people don’t value their hopefully 70 years of life enough to want to spend their time doing those things. I don’t like to think of the world becoming more evil but sometimes the evidence is just too IN YOUR FACE.

Monday, March 27, 2006

Why we go to matinees

This weekend we took the whole fam damily to see “She’s the man” since we still have to wait one more weekend for Ice Age II. (X MEN III----- MAY 26TH! Oh, the joy!) It was cute and entertaining. We have been going to more matinees this last little while simply because it makes me feel better to not pay $7.50 for a ticket and we are courteous realists knowing that we are taking a 4 year old to a theater full of people who want to watch the show. We will continue taking the family to matinees because my 10 year old also has a rough time talking in a whisper and experiences deep down urges to make sure the person sitting next to him really understands what just happened on a 30 foot screenin front of them. I will start accepting your thanks for this considerate gesture now.

The movie started out with Amanda Bynes out with her friends and boyfriend at the beach playing soccer. After a little sand footsie with the ball, she gave her boyfriend a couple of PG rated kisses. In the darkened theater, you hear a little 4 year old voice give way, “EWWWWWWWWWWW! Kissing! Get me out of this movie!” It took us giving him the whole bag of popcorn to convince him to stay. However, at the end of the movie Cooper informed us that he had laid down and closed his eyes during the other kisses on screen. Is it unrealistic to hope this remains a staunch belief until he is 18?

Friday, March 24, 2006

Defcon 5

Last Saturday I had a defining moment of being a mom to a budding teenager. And it was awful. Awful. Ryan was in a mood. Her father yelled at her and she went downstairs to her room. I finally went down to span the generation gap and she allowed me to see into the black hole of hormones and junior high suffering. Because of my slight (by the world’s standards, mindfucking by my own) anxiety problem I immediately am horrified by any small symptom that could mean it has been inherited by my offspring. First, she scared the crap out of me. She wouldn’t tell me anything but that something bad had happened to her. I finally had to say to her what I was thinking. “Ryan, you have to tell me because all the things that I am thinking of are so much worse than it probably is and you need to have pity on your mother and her mental state. I am not leaving until you tell me.”
“Nobody can help me.”
“How do you know that? I don’t know everything and I am 37 years old. How do you know that when you are only 12? And if Bart and I can’t help you, we have the resources to find you somebody that can. We have the money, the insurance, the family, the intelligence.” I was spouting but she wasn’t saying anything.
I sat there and I sat there on her bed. Wondering what the right thing to do was. Wishing that I wasn’t the mother in the situation here. Wanting her to be my happy 2 year old daughter again.
“You can’t change the way people think.” She finally said. Apparently, this bad thing that has happened to her is that people think she was pretty in 4th grade and has become ugly. And fat. Can I just say THANK THE LORD?
And yet sitting there in her room and listening to her tell me she was ugly and fat and that she had tried starving herself this weekend was not that comforting.
“Ryan, I know you don’t want to hear this but most women who think back on their junior high years just remember them as absolute hell so all these feelings are somewhat normal. I mean, you feeling abnormal is normal if that makes sense.”
But I remember those feelings. I remember that you really hadn’t even acquired a vocabulary in order to voice your uncertainties, your challenges with your body and your emotional behavior, your moods swinging from tree to tree. I was speaking so very much from the heart when I told her that I was 37 and I still didn’t know everything. Everything about hormones, mood swings, life, women problems.
So, I did what every caring mother should do. I started reading her notes that she left in her pants pockets in the laundry. I went and read her journal. And there is very little guilt in my admission because I now feel qualified to diagnose her with normal abnormality. We have lowered ourself to Defcon 3 and will keep things closely monitored. We also talked about eating a good breakfast every day. That is requiring daily monitoring. We talked about taking vitamins. That is requiring daily monitoring. At this moment, I was guess she is going to live.
I have had to squelch many other remembrances of when my mother was caught reading my journal. I vowed that I would never violate the privacy of a child of mine. That was such a breach of trust. Now, no longer being in the throes of those hormonal mood swings, I feel that it is the right thing to do. And yet, I know what kind of feelings it will evoke if Ryan should find out what I did. What do you think?

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Men............and weight

So today I was talking to my male neighbor and he shared with me his deepest darkest feelings that he would not spend the $20 for a gym membership for his wife until she changed her eating habits. Because as long as she ate like she does now, going to the gym even 7 times a week wouldn't help. The spindle popped off my disgust-o-meter. Not to mention that she makes 3 times more money than he so it really is her money and she can damn well take a match to it and burn it up if she chooses. Not to mention that she does all the homework in the house. Not to mention that she works 10-12 hours a day. Truly, this is a day where I think the world would be a better place without men. My previous post was about MY weight gain. I did not say anything about men who think they have the right to add to my guilt about my weight. Or about men who think they should play every Saturday. My disgust-o-meter is already broken, thank goodness. But I digress.

Anyone want a double chocolate brownie?

Just like the whole blogging world that has something to say about weight gain and loss, so do I. I believe that most of my passion is coming from the spring weather that coaxes me to try and wear a short sleeve shirt and show off my arms or shorts that look absolutely disgusting on my now thoroughly winterized body. As I read some of these other blogs, I am shocked at how similar our line of defense is. That our internal self image does not match with our true self and only when confronted with a photograph do we have to face our weight gain.
I have been shopping a bit this week and all I can say is YUCK! I knew. I knew that I had been eating way too much and controlling my carbs way too little. I knew that what little exercise I did do was not enough. I knew that I was not feeling comfortable in my body…..or my pants. I knew that I should’ve started on this little fat project long ago but it has been so damn cold and crappy outside that I haven’t. I knew all of that. And then looking in a full length mirror you not only KNOW it but you are living it. You are obsessed with it. You can’t get it out of your mind. You are fat. You are huge. You can’t stop eating. You must stop eating. You will stop eating right after this last cookie. OK, this weekend is your last binge or else you will die of fatness. It just feels yucky. But being lazy feels so good. Not having to control this one aspect of your life helps out when you feel so trapped into routine of getting up, driving kids to school, going to work, driving kids to soccer, scouts, dentists, doing homework, watching TV with one eye while the other is folding the laundry, having to come up with another dinner. If all of these things could go away, you can bet that I would be able to control my eating and exercising. I could.
I am lucky. I have received no negativity from my husband. I can’t imagine having an outside source of criticism. The biggest critic is living just inside your head and is obviously just as fat as you are. Sometimes that just makes it worse though…..for me. Again, so much in my life to rejoice in and here I sit moping around thinking about how fat I am while I am eating a pumpkin chocolate chip cookie. And sometimes they really don’t even taste that good. Or sometimes you are full but you keep eating just to finish off your plate. Or to finish off the table so you don’t have to put another something back in the fridge as a leftover that will never get eaten after today.
It kills me. I like to think of myself of a woman of above average intelligence. However, my ability to maintain a healthy level of weight denies me the proof of the very thing that I would like to take pride about. I have complete control of this thing. It is my body. It is my time. It is my health. And yet, sadly, I can not—no, I mean I have not gained control of this part of my life. Hell, I am now so depressed I might just take up smoking.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

March 16

4 more days until Spring and it is so cold and stormy here that it seems like it will never come. Winter is in the process of ruining another perfectly good weekend plan and I am PISSED! I really need to morph into a seed or a bear because truly, I am only half alive during this harsh cold season and it would be best if I just hibernated. I just went tanning and while that helps, it is so not long enough. Oh ho! Long enough for you to wonder and sometimes shiver with fear at how the UVA rays are mutating your skin cells and maybe your eye cells so that you will find yourself with some ugly disease later in life but not long enough for you to forget about the Narnian ice witch just waiting to blow down your neck and whip up your hair into an icicle hairdo like hers just outside the salon.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Fence Sitting

Just 30 more days before I become Sandra Bullock starring in Two Weeks Notice. I hope my boss doesn't realize he is in love with me after that. Good gosh! I hope I don't realize that I am in love with my boss after that. HA! That would never happen. He is the one that is spurring me on to this huge decision in my life. And, ironically, I am grateful for that. There has barely been a moment since I made the decision where I have felt hesitant or uncertain that this is the right thing to do. That is a blessing for me as I am always one loving the tip top of the proverbial fence. No, I have no other plans. I have found a health plan that will get us through until September. I plan on taking the boys and living down in Richfield with Grandpa for a few weeks. Working on his garden, playing with the puppy and four wheeling. I plan on going to the pool a lot here at home. And working out and running with Ryan, Bart and Friday. I plan on actually putting a dinner schedule together each week and sticking to it. I even have a friend who is going to teach me coupon shopping. I plan on starting to look for a job in August. But all these are just that: plans. Nothing in concrete. I am just waiting for May 1 to see what I really want to do.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Under the Influence

Things that I thought about while in the dentist’s chair breathing in that…..exquisite……gas.

“Excuse me. Excuse me! Where can I get some of this gas for everyday life?!?!” I need this!


Cooper was in the chair next to me getting his cavities filled as well. He was fighting the gas and the novacaine a bit and I could hear the hygienist talking to him telling him to lie back and explaining that the gas would make him feel weird. I could feel myself fighting back from the effects of the gas and focusing on what was going on to my left. I even opened my eyes and looked over to his chair. I was even able to tell her to take off his coat and his shoes and he would be a lot more comfortable. That probably got me 5 extra minutes of gas before they started the procedure. “Here is what mother’s instinct is.” I imagined that my “center” was myself sitting in my chair but that there was a veering, a pull, a smearing of my center that followed Cooper to his chair. I looked down and could see my center that was not just encompassing myself but Cooper as well and I thought how am I going to draw this on the blog. “This is what mother’s instinct is…..to me.” I had to revise that as I thought about all the kids that are abused and neglected. This was a downward spiral of negative thoughts about those horrible mothers and those poor, poor children.

“I wonder if tear ducts can suck back in half formed tears.” I don’t know because they didn’t just stay half formed. They were whole tears. Big fat jiggly tears that started rolling down my face.

“Are you ok?,” I hear from somewhere up above.
“Yes.” I nodd. Luckily, it throws me into another train of thought. Is that why dentist’s have the highest rate of suicide in any profession? They don’t ever talk to their patients because they are all asleep or high and when they do finally get out of the chair where they don’t quite remember what has happened –did they drool? Bite his hand? Fart in the chair? Tongue his fingers? -- the patient doesn’t want to look him in the eye for the consult or shake his hand knowing just exactly where his hands have been for his whole professional life. Poor dentists. How sad of a life do they have? Haven’t my tear ducts dried out for the day? Nurse! Suction!

I realize that I need to pull out of it. I am starting to feel nauseous. The swirling has become frenzied. Whoa! I am a penny twirling crazily on the counter for way too long. If I can just topple myself over I can lay flat. Topple! I cry, but for some reason I can’t push myself down without closing my mouth and the dentist keeps saying, “Open, please. “ I am trying to breathe through my open mouth so I can clear my head of the gas. I start composing what I am going to say to Bart if I make it out of this chair.

“Bart, I want you to focus on what I am going to say next. I know you are having a busy day but this is important. I never want you to let me drink because I will be one big soggy, sodden lump of wet tissues. I think you will find that me under control of myself is the best thing for all of us. At all times.” I can hear him laughing out loud.

“Damn, is everything that I compose in my head this good?” With the gas, yes.

I think absolutely infinity everything might be a yes with the gas. How scary.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

The Joys of Being a Psychology Major

Go with me on this one. One of the biggest problems in our marriage has been my getting out of the car before Bart can get around to open the door or my opening the door for myself when we go into a building. I know you are laughing right now but this is no laughing matter. I mean, this almost brings us to blows even when we speak of it now. I don’t know who is in the right or who is in the wrong but it doesn’t matter. Both of us have strong feelings. In simple terms the argument goes like this: He wants to open the door for me signifying respect and love. I don’t see the need for him to do something for me that I can do for myself. I feel uncomfortable waiting like a spoiled debutante in the car while he walks all the way around to open my door. I could be out and we could be together before he makes it all the way around. He feels that I am being selfish denying him the right to treat me the right way. I counter that if he really has strong feelings about showing respect and love I would feel a whole hell of a lot more love and respect if he for instance, loaded the dishwasher.
Honestly, thinking back this is not something that has evolved with just Bart. This is the way I am. I have never expected dates to open the door for me. I have never expected the male to fork out for the bill every time. Call it independent. Call it stubborn. Call it controlling. I don’t care what you call it. Understand that this is me. These gender roles are not ingrained in me at all. I don’t know if I see these established patterns as creating inequalities between a guy and me. I don’t want to walk behind, I want to walk side by side. (Until, I must admit, we start talking about changing a tire.) I don’t know if I am uncomfortable with the idea of traditional courtship rules. Is it because I don’t want to officially signify that I was actually courting this guy, thereby, shutting myself off for any and all other interesting offers? But that is not a valid theory because it applies even now to my husband who I am publicly bonded together with by 3 children, a dog, a house payment and a 5 year plan. I must go back to thinking that my independence is simply part of my fundamental belief that I need to pull my own weight in this world. Whether it be by opening a door that I am certainly able to open myself and have done so thousands of times before or by bringing home some sort of paycheck to pay for the household sundries. Currently I am contemplating staying home for the summer. Yes, that means quitting my job of 9 years. That decision has already been made. The plan is to stay home for 4 or 5 months and hang out with the kids, see where the wind blows me because I will NOT be pursuing my career in the same vocation. As with any life change, this created some stress. With fascination, I have been able to recognize some very “in the box” thinking that I have been holding onto for years. This is enabling me to make this very decision. But there is still this one independence hangup that leaves me wondering if I will be able to make 4 or 5 months without a paycheck. This has nothing, NOTHING to do with how I view SAHM work. I always tell Bart when he goes and does extra work to buy a snowmobile that he has to pay me double for the caring of his children while he is away for the additional time. And this may be something that is truly a dysfunction between Bart and myself. (I haven’t been married to all that many men to know a difference.) Or maybe it is a dysfunction between me, myself and I. Hey, I have 4 or 5 months with nothing else to do but work it all out. Heh. Heh.

Too Much Wasted Time

This season of American Idol is the worst one I have watched. I have a little hope for the boys tomorrow. And I have to say that Mandisa was the bomb last night. But to only have one great performance for 14 girls, I am so disappointed. I do not watch it for Ryan Seacrest's witticisms, I do not watch it for the interplay between Simon and Paula, I do not watch it for the brief glimpse of Bo Bice in the audience (although it was fun). I watch it to be delighted by people who are getting up on stage and creating a perfect minute with their voice and their body language. I do tivo back the great performances and enjoy them again and sometimes again. And last night I only got one perfect minute. You gotta do better, girls!

Sunday, March 05, 2006

I believe

More than 7 days have gone by without a post. Am I getting bored of blogging? Have I satisfied my writing craving? Because I certainly did not go on far away vacation without any internet access or been in a life threatening accident and spent unconscious days in the ICU. I have been composing posts in my mind but they haven't made it to the computer. Does that count? Hardly.
I think that I still view writing as a craft rather than just a way of communicating. So, it is not ok for a post to simply communicate but it must be perfect. I haven't had time to be perfect so I have remained silent. I don't know if that is good or bad. See, even now I am debating that if I will put this one in because technically, what is this all about?

Today at church a man talked about his friend that had committed suicide 20 years ago. He said that the Lord came to him one day while he was working and whispered to him that his friend's temple work needed to be done. In my church, we believe that there must be certain rituals taken care of on this earth for one to progress to the highest echelons of heaven. There is also talk that suicide is some sort of murder and murder, I believe has always excluded one from the highest of high level of exaltation in all of christianity.
I made a friend when I was a missionary in Thailand. His name was Sheldon Wray from Burley Idaho. We were Bangkok together for about 6 months until we were both sent upcountry to other districts. He was a worker who believed in working hard and playing hard. I loved him. I respected him. I enjoyed him. I thought he was going to come home from Thailand and take the world by storm. I thought that he would continue to fight and win against the agnst and I took strength from that. But he didn't choose to do that. For some unknown reason to me who thought I knew him, he came home and a little more than a month later he put a bullet through his head. Wray was completely stubborn and truly, I have believed and will continue to believe that his little bulldog personality would somehow get him through St. Peter's gate and up onto the highest cloud and if he desires, the Lord's new righthand man. I just know that. I just KNOW that. I know that Wray will not sit for something less. I see his suicide as a dumb knee jerk action but an action none the less. He was not one to sit around and do nothing. He was an action man. And when I went to his funeral I just had to accept that fact that once again I had deviated from the accepted tenets and doctrines of my church. I accept that calmly. I have had to do that before but that is another long post. I believe more in my relationship with the Lord and the understandings that we have created than in the organized religion that is run by humans.
However, today in church when I heard that story I was strengthened in my beliefs. Today in the organized religion setting I felt joy as I thought of Wray still progressing-perhaps not the way I wanted to see it happen-and fighting the war. And it made me believe in God and that He loves us all the more.