Asian hint

I saw Kung Fu Panda 2 a coupla days ago.  I saw The Hangover 2 the day before that.  Seems there is not only a "2" theme going on but also a theme that takes me to Asia. And with all these Buddhist concepts going around in my brain, and having watched my kids do karate and thinking perhaps I might like to do karate as well, and having had Udon for lunch and seeing some dude standing at a street corner listening to music on an electronic device of some kind and dancing REALLY badly- I think there might be a divine message there.  Dance like nobody is watching..wasn't that Mark Twain?  What does Asia have to do with that? Nothing. Just thought I'd throw it in there.

I keep thinking about a passage I read about in Syvia Boorstein's book. She talks about a someone she knew who was very calm in the hospital and when asked how she could be so calm her reply was basically, "Why get upset? Who is that going to help?" Whenever Sam has had to go into surgery he has always had a serenity about him. He will wave and smile, he will joke with the nurses. There isn't much he can do at that moment so he just accepts it and doesn't worry anyone. I could add something from Kung Fu Panda but I doubt ANYONE would be able to take me seriously if I did. But in a nutshell, even in the face of pain one can find inner peace and with inner peace one is stronger.
So am I to start drowning myself in Calgon?

Holding

It has been a while. And in a while a lot can happen. I am so busy with just LIFE, that my midlife crisis has been put on hold- Good thing? Dunno? Bad thing? Also dunno.
So in my life I deal with alot of hard stuff. My husband and I have been having "issues" but the kind of issues that not many can boast of.  I love my husband. I love him to my very core.  This isn't the issue.  The issue is that my beloved husband had a brain hemorrhage years n' years ago and there are many ongoing health issues that sometimes wear me out.  At first I was indestructible.  The second year we were together Sam ended up in the hospital with a broken shunt. The thing had dislodged itself and fell into his stomach. At the time I didn't know what the signs of hydrocephalus were, but when Sam was up in the middle of the night mumbling about his ex wife, talking about a 25' long leisure suit and looking for a toothbrush in my closet, I was pretty sure something wasn't right. At 4am I took him to the emergency room, had him transferred to UCLA Westwood because that is where the best neurology department is and then dealt with a basically comatose Sam for 5 days in ICU. After that I dealt with getting Medicaid because we had no health insurance. It all sounds complicated and very emotionally draining but at the time it wasn't.  I did it happily, with patience, tolerance and love.  Sam was okay after this episode. And when it happened again about 8 years later, I was still able to be strong and resilient. By this time we were married and had a child.  I remember the day I decided he needed to go in- I remembered that the first time his gaze got funny. He didn't look straight at me but instead his focus was shifted slightly right. He was tired and the water build up on his brain was making his eyes buggy. I was able to get him to the hospital before he went into that weird limbo state. He had a great doctor and I was feeling really positive about it. 6 days and 3 brain surgeries later Sam came home.  The worst part about this episode was the consequence associated with our daughter and trying to help her process the "whys".
When someone has a brain trauma there are profound changes.  They never really come back the same person. There are little tweeks that are hard for most people to notice- but knowing Sam the way I do, I knew something was different.  His memory wasn't as good and he seemed to have more problems then he had before. The following year Sam had back surgery.  He had 3 of his vertebrae fused. He had been in pain for a long time and we felt this was the best solution for him. It was after this that things started shifting in my proverbial foundation. Sam was going to be released from the hospital but I felt he needed to be checked out by a neurologist.  He seemed off- The best way I can describe it and how I had for the previous few months was that it seemed like Sam was sometimes not there. After ALOT of advocating I finally got one there and after much deliberation he was given an EEG.  They discovered he was having Absent Seizures.  This are the kind you can't see. It is basically like the light turns off and Sam was having them 2 per second. He was given medication and sent home.

That first night he went on walk-about in the middle of the night. The meds made him sleep walk and he had no recollection. But he would wake up in pain because he had just had back surgery and wasn't supposed to be walking around. The second night he tried to take our daughter with him. For the first time I began to worry about the kids (We now had 2).  The meds were changed and Sam gradually came mostly back. Things were as normal as they could be for some time but Sam was never very happy again after this.
In January 2010, the day after having a conversation about taking better care of himself and me feeling a little overwhelmed by the care taking, Sam ended up in the hospital again- but this time with pneumonia.  He was in for 5 days. Something inside me cracked and I found myself feeling less compassion then I had in the past. Of course I was there for him and took care of everything I needed to do, but it wasn't with the same sense of strength, patience and tolerance.  I certainly wasn't happy about it but I still always approached everything I did for him with love in my heart. It was just the first time that I didn't really want to. I was tired because I had a 6 and 3 year old. Juggling everything isn't easy. I was REALLY excited for our summer vacation and felt I would get a much needed break.

Drawing by Jesse Prinz,
my incredibly talented
 brother-in-law

Sam arrived the day before us and on the day we arrived he went bike riding. Bike riding isn't the BEST choice of things for a guy with little balance and vertigo to do. But I wasn't there to be the voice of reason so he went. He fell and broke his leg in 3 places.  I was angry, pissed and a little fed up. This continued through the summer and spilled into the fall when he had to get his leg RE-broken and set.  Due to his already there issues he wasn't able to use crutches so he had a wheelchair in the house, we had a ramp and all my corners were getting destroyed by the dreaded chair. During this time I tried SO hard to be loving and caring- patient and compassionate. I just couldn't find it and I strated wondering if I could stay. Sam was also becoming more forgetful and becoming increasingly self centered. He was depressed and I just assumed this was the reason. This was not good. Finally about a month ago, I convinced him to go back to the neurologist because it just seemed to me that his actions were a little out there for him. He had another EEG and this time he was having focal seizures. The kind that can change personality, affect memory and make it hard for him to do everyday things.
This has all been SO hard for me but one thing I have learned from it is despite all this crap and despite how hard it is or how unstable it makes me feel I am actually really strong and obviously have a hell of alot of compassion. I will always try to be his champion and all I can hope for is the best.  I have also learned that perhaps I want to try to share this story in a more in depth way- perhaps I can help others with my experiences. I have learned that I love Sam despite the hardships.  I need to help him through this and in helping him I help us and I help me. He is my other half, my soul mate and without him life would probably really suck.

To Be or Not to Be?

Yesterday I took my kids to the San Diego Zoo.  Wonderful place, happy monkeys but what REALLY stood out for me was a misguided peacock strutting its stuff for a duck.  The peacock made for a great photo op with its magnificent tail fanned out. It turned from side to side, it rattled its feathers, it strutted. The thousand eyes of Argus glittering in the sun telling tales of love and a promise of a "fruitful" future.  I was stirred...But not the duck.  The duck could have cared less. It sat there preening itself and ignoring the peacock. And in my mind, it is pretty damn hard to ignore THAT.

Something about this whole thing struck me and I am not really sure how- but I will try to define it here.

My thoughts went something like this-

Is this peacock into biracial relationships? Do peahens just not do it for him? Is this little brown duck a total slice of heaven in his mind? Does he like a challenge?  Is he in a mid life crisis and is looking for something different? Is he feeling insecure about himself and wants to make sure he is still attractive to the opposite sex? Is he blind? Is he stupid? Is he drunk? WHAT is he doing?

I find myself thinking this about people sometimes. Like the 40 something guy that just walked into this here Starbucks. WHAT is with the hanging low pants that you have belted around the lower quadrant of your ass? A tight white thermal and orange high top Nikes.  This is his way of peacocking- letting the chicks know he is hip, in shape and young at heart. Or that guy who for some reason thought it would make him more attractive to shape his eyebrows. He is already hot and managed to make himself less attractive by plucking his eyebrows.

Why is it that peahens don't have to strut THEIR stuff? I am bending over backwards trying to lose weight. I wouldn't mind marching in here wearing a tight white thermal and orange high tops and looking young, in shape AND hip. I'm sorry but no can do the low gangsta pants- but I could do with some eyebrow shaping....

There is a lady that comes in here every week wearing exactly the same thing. Brown slacks, a cropped black leather fitted jacket, shiny stripped heels with matching bracelet and a fedora cocked to one side. She has short brownish coppery hair and she must be about 70. The first few times I saw her I thought she looked good- now I just wonder if she ever wears anything else. But good for her for having an outfit that makes her feel good. Does she only have the one or does she have several that are the same? Does she ever mix it up?

We all want to be attractive. We all have our idea of what we think attractive is. I grew up thinking that I wasn't pretty unless I was skinny.  After I had E. Coli and was emaciated I was told I never looked better. I have issues with food and am repelled by over eaters. Pre marriage and kids I was pretty good looking. Now, I don't even recognize myself.  Having children destroyed my body to the point of no return without surgery. I want the surgery so badly it is kind of pathetic. But THAT won't happen unless I win the lottery or I yank a tooth and the tooth fairy leaves me 10K under my pillow because she feels sorry for me. I am a pretty fucked up peahen. Maybe I just long to be the peacock and obviously that ain't gonna happen. Does this make me transgendered? ha.  I used to feel like a peacock sometimes- Now I mostly feel like the duck...but not one that would attract any peacock.  That duck has something special goin' on. WHAT is its secret?

That peacock was SO beautiful, so vibrant and virile. The peacock symbolizes openness and acceptance. In Buddhism they are likened to "bodhisattvas" because they eat poisonous plants and "save" the medicinal plants for others.  They don't seek to bring comfort upon themselves but on others. By taking all problems and suffering upon themselves,  bodhisattvas are able to clear their mental blockages and develop their mind quickly, attaining "higher realization".  I know, heavy stuff but hey- a peacock presented itself and in admiring it my mind went a' racing. 

This wonderful fellow, this beautiful peacock went unnoticed by the very being it so longed to attract. What a let down. 

I'm trying to figure out what can be learned from this. Though the duck ignored the peacock it still tried. I'm no ornithologist but I am pretty sure this is it's instinct. What is OUR instinct? Do we want to look good? If so then why does the lady who just walked in look the way she does? I'm sorry but a belly button ring does not look good on an exposed stomach hanging over bad camo capris. We all have our idea of what beauty is and the guy that she is with obviously thinks she looks sexy and awesome. And she thinks his mullet, bright yellow shirt and black leather vest is pretty stylin'.  But in my mind they are two ducks..... right? 

Grandmother peacocking

So I guess the question here is what is beauty? What works for the goose doesn't necessarily work for the gander? Or what works for the peacock doesn't necessarily work for the duck. If I were the duck I think I'd like the peacock. Maybe my problem is that I just need the beauty too much and I have no idea how to let go of it.  I see my grandmother who got pretty much everything with her looks now essentially rotting her days away in bed as an old woman. At the age of about 65 she decided life wasn't worth living anymore and crawled into bed. She used to tell me that she would wake up happy then look in the mirror and her day would be ruined. She was NOT a duck. Her instinct was to be beautiful. To make men swoon. And they did. Even when she was old, men found her beautiful and desirable. People would tell me I had a hot grandma. And because her "colors" weren't as vibrant she hid under the covers. 

So do we just paint our lives with brighter colors and use more prominent strokes? Is it possible to be a duck and still attract a peacock...obviously it is. Now THAT is the mystery. And as our colors DO fade how do we continue to feel like the peacock?

A Road to Travel

So I have been feeling a little uninspired lately- hence the lack of posts. I'm not really sure WHAT I am doing. Trying to find inspiration, trying to find meaning in little things...hoping something incredible will happen that will ignite my inner fire and evoke a "Shazam!" outta me.
Is this what a midlife crisis is?
Am I REALLY middle aged, standing at a crossroads looking from side to side wondering what lies ahead at each end?
I imagine a dusty, desolate place with, of course, the picturesque nappy tumbleweed flipping across the steaming asphalt. The sun is hot on my head, my shoes may be melting and my skin has a most unhealthy tinge of red. It would do me good to make a decision and go one way or the other but I don't seem to be able to find my blind faith and for some reason the option to return to this fork in the road doesn't seem to be a possibility. Why would I want to return here anyway?  It has been my purgatory for such a long time now.
What I really need is for Zelda the Psychic to magically show up, pitch her Bedouin tent and invite me in for a lemonade. I friggin love lemonade.... So I would definitely oblige. She would be seated at a small table with a velvet table cloth with a sparkling motif that is either stars or swirls and it has a few shadows of a stain from a Starbucks latte. On the table resting on a hand carved piece of Balinese junk is a big hand blown crystal ball that emits a vague glow. She would say nothing and gesture for me to sit down with long fingers with chipped deep purple polish.  She runs her fingertips across the crystal ball and tells me which way to go.  Then the director yells "Cut!" and the First AD yells "Back to 1" and I have to go back outside and find my place where part of my shoe's sole has melted and become one with the road.
Yeah...not happening.

What is kinda interesting about this fork in the road is that in my mind it is asphalt. Why shouldn't my road be in the woods? or on the beach? Instead, I chose the most uninviting setting with two equally unappealing avenues and expect myself to make a decision on one of them. The sun is burning my skin, my shoes are melting. I could be  hiding under the shelter of trees, cooled by their canopy. I could be delighting in the sound of birds singing or a nearby waterfall. Instead I am only joined by an occasional tumbleweed and most likely a dead armadillo. Okay so now I am apparently in Texas. Wow...It is getting worse.  Why would I be able to make a decision?  I am looking at which way is "less bad" rather then looking ahead to a fabulous adventure.
Maybe THIS is something I need to reflect upon. I need to mentally change my "way" into somewhere that I want to be. I need to somehow make a decision that life won't be a trip through a desert in the Southwestern region of the US wearing melting shoes. I should try to be a little less Mad Max and perhaps be more Robert Frost about it all.

Lulu in the Troll Forest, DK 8- 2009

In Denmark, there is a troll forest that is called surprisingly enough the "Troll Forest" or Troldeskoven. The trees are gnarled and crazy with twisted trunks and the air smells damp and fresh. Under your feet as you walk is a thick cushion of loam and moss. There are even red mushrooms with white spots growing on fallen and rotting trees.  If there was ever an enchanted wood, this would be it. You can start at one end and walk a while. The trees begin to thin out and then it opens up to a desolate beach.  The day I was there a light mist hovered in the air over the sea and there was very little movement in the water. It was eerie and beautiful.  Why shouldn't my road be in a magical place like this and lead me to strange and wonderful things?

Most undignified tree ever

I saw a tree today that was trimmed to the point of having no top. It was just a trunk with a weird flattened round ottoman shape resting on it.  I stopped and looked at it for a minute, kind of marveling at the sheer absurdity of it. What was the point? It couldn't cast a shadow so it didn't offer shade. It certainly wasn't pretty, unless you have an affinity for lollipops.  It seemed that its only purpose was to be peed on by dogs. That is so sad and so undignified. I'm not sure how this relates to anything but I feel like it has to in some way. There needs to be a reason for it doesn't there? How it must long to be majestic and wonderful.  Don't we all?

I don't know if I feel like I am this tree or not but I DO know that I don't want to be anything like it. I WANT to be a part of something or someplace amazing even if I am just passing through. And I certainly would rather not see dead armadillos OR dancing tumbleweeds.

Dissin' Disneyland

WARNING- This is ranty and judgmental- I am a self professed flaw pointer outer... I'm not proud of it but I am not ashamed either...I'm not intending to be holier then thou...If you hate cattiness then stop here.
Seriously.

There are certain places one can go where they can see the worst of America.  I find that I often feel better about myself in those places.  Not that I can claim to be better then they are- I am sure they are all perfectly nice people.  I just feel a little thinner and sophisticated after a day with the American masses.
Disneyland is a wonderful place for improved self perception.   There you can feast your eyes on hundreds and hundreds of overweight people wearing Disney inspired clothing.  I'm no fashionista but I would rather squeeze lemon juice on a paper cut then wear some of the shit these people have on.  What self respecting woman wears sparkly pink mouse ears complete with sparkly pink stuffed bow that looks like a pillow, a t shirt with a princess on it and bad capris that give you camel toes? And this is the lady with her boyfriend without kids.  And WHAT is up with those necklace things people wear with all the pins on them?  Do they wear them outside of Disneyland?    I saw a grandpa wearing a pirate hat with long dreads hanging from it- I actually thought that was cool in a funny way- His grand kids probably think he is the bomb for wearing it. Arggg matey.  I feel better about myself despite my muffin top and protruding hernia belly. Damn- I almost feel skinny.  And when the rubber bands holding my hair up break I don't even care that my hair looks bad because I know there is much worse out there. 

We have passes to Disneyland. We can go for a few hours here and there and it isn't terribly unpleasant because we always know we can leave  and come back another day.  I am endlessly amazed by the people I see there. WHO are these people?  Why has the elderly couple wearing bride and groom mouse ears decided to come to Disneyland for their honeymoon?  Is it romantic? Am I missing something?  And the restaurants- do they think the sourdough boule with clam chowder is good? Is it special? Do they care that it is probably 8000 calories and has about 2000 mg of sodium?  What is most alarming is the average size of the people. People were fat. Not fat like they could shed a few...but FAT like they needed a motorized chair or a walker to get around.  How is it fun to go to Disneyland when you are 400 pounds, its hot out, crowded and the lines are ridiculous? Why does one want to spend $75 plus $15 for parking for that? Jamie Oliver should hit up Disneyland for some nutrition counseling. It is all rather atrocious- though they do have stands now with fresh fruit which is nice to see.

The worst "offense" are the little princesses running around. I am all for make believe and wearing your princess outfit to Disneyland. Hell, Lulu did it. But the princess makeovers are truly scary.  At the Princess Fantasy Faire you can see little girls getting hair extensions, makeup and glitter sprayed all over them.  They leave looking like they are about to go do a beauty pageant.  Jon Benet would weep with envy.  It goes beyond being cute and takes it to a whole other level that is just gross. Yes these little girls feel like a princess when they leave but I imagine the "experience" could be a little less glammy and have the same effect.
Of course my children don't notice the other people at all- They are too busy looking at the attractions.  Another thing I can berate myself about.
I was wondering if I was the only judgemental mean person and there are actually facebook pages and websites devoted to bad Disneyland sitings.  Most of them geared towards the overweight people there. So I can feel a little better about my judgmental self knowing that I am not the only one having terrible thoughts and actually sharing them.

As a side note- we had a wonderful time there. It was just me and my son and despite the crowds, we had a blast.  I will remember it forever.  He loved Autotopia, the Haunted House and the Buzz Lightyear ride. Oliver is so friggin cute.

Evaluation control

So mid life crisis…..Kinda makes you evaluate and re-evaluate yourself a lot.  There are days where I feel great. There are days that I feel like crap. Most days I am somewhere in between vacillating between happy and pissed, excited and full of dread.  I look around myself constantly thankful for what I have but wanting more and wondering just what will happen next. I wonder how will I make a buck, how will I continue on this path with some sense of contentment. Do I need antidepressants and is anyone truly happy? Is there anything in this life that isn’t some kind of a let down? Is the only thing truly perfect the softness of my children’s cheeks and how they make me feel when I kiss them?  I question my mothering skills, I question my ability to lose weight, I question my ability to be anything more then I am right now- a mom, a wife, an advocate for my kids and husband, a homemaker and caretaker. A numbers cruncher, laundry folder who can make a dado joint and a good goose.

This week I had the flu. A disaster. Oliver is on spring break, Lulu is not. My house looks like a bomb hit it and now that I am on a fraction of the cymbalta that I was on, my obsessive need for clean is showing its shiny head. I can’t relax because I am aware that the house looks like crap. I want to throw everything away so that I don’t have to deal with it at all. I didn’t even make my bed today and I have thought about it about 200 times. Well, not 200 but maybe 3.

I made myself fresh matzo ball soup because one I like is too expensive to buy every day. I can’t make matzo balls. I am seriously questioning my Jewish heritage because my matzo balls could double as door stops.. Nothing like the light and fluffy ones I pay too much money for.  But I do make good broth. I can give myself thumbs up for that.

I feel behind the eight ball. Oliver is on break and I refuse to rest while he watches TV.  It is also sunny and beautiful outside and I am not at all worried about radiation in the air. I want my son outside playing. So that means I have to be outside playing too.  I am not being a martyr- I am just not wanting Oliver to spend his break with the Bubble Guppies or Ultraman.

So evaluating and re-evaluating.  It is a constant thing.  It just seems like a never ending quest to figure out the “right” thing to do. It isn’t like there is a right or wrong thing here. Whatever happens happens but trying to figure out how to take things in stride and to be okay with decisions.  This is where being a Buddhist or Taoist would be a helpful.  

A winning lottery ticket wouldn't be so bad either....

a moment

Occasionally,  I go through a period of time where everything feels wrong. no matter what. No matter what I put on I feel fat, my hair looks bad and somehow the day is sculpted and formed based on these negative perceptions. Then you feel like people don't like you and you have this weird feeling you have tricked the people who DO like you into liking you and you always over cook the meat even if its cooked perfectly.  Everything just feels wrong.
Then sometimes and, unfortunately, somewhat rarely, things feel right.  You have a moment where your child makes you smile and you really feel that smile in your heart.  Suddenly, you don't give a shit that your roots are 2" long and that there is twice as much grey- make that 3 times as much grey as you remember there being a week ago.  It doesn't matter that the floor needs to be mopped or that I still haven't settled on a contractor for the garage. What matters is that the air smells good, my child is hugging me and I feel happy. I feel good about myself and don't worry about those out there who may not like me because I love the ones I have that do like me. and I am pretty sure I didn't trick them.  Fat. Yeah.... that is still a minus but isn't a chain wrapped around my ankle puling me into an abyss or anything.  You have a moment of perfection and then that moment stretches into an hour because your other child also hugs you and says something heartbreakingly sweet. There is no screaming- just smiles and happy chatter. That hour turns into longer as you realize that as you sit typing in Starbucks, while Lulu is karate chopping upstairs, that you are smiling ear to ear. For no particular reason.

Aged conversation

Today, I treated myself to some soup at a cafe that I really like. Because I was alone, naturally I eavesdropped.  At the table next to me, an elderly lady of somewhere between 75-80 was having lunch with a friend. She was rather spry for her age- I always used to imagine pushing 80 and being all wrinkly wearing a diaper or something. My mom is going to be 70 this year and she seems so young. I remember as a kid I thought 32 was old old old. That was how old I was going to be in the year 2000. I can't even remember what I thought the world would be like.
Anyway, I was eavesdropping on the lady and was enjoying very much listening to how much she hates getting friended on Facebook and why do people recommend things to you? Especially those who you didn't even want to be friends with. She bitched for a while about it and all the while I am thinking "damn, granny is so in the now"- watch she probably designs web pages in her spare time. Or apps.
Next she goes on to tell her friend about Weigh Watchers and describes the point system etc. It dawns on me that I could be eavesdropping on a conversation I might have with  a friend.
When do we actually "get old?" or is it we just get outdated and our bodies basically deteriorate?
Lately age has started to take on a different look to me. I detest the physical aging- since Christmas I have been given the gift of abundant grey/white hair growing all around my hairline and I am kinda freaked out about it. Sure, I have had lots of non dishwater blonde/ mousey brown hair growing but wham, so much all of a sudden. And the wrinkles. My forehead is starting to look like a topographical map. I can get all arty about it and say it's a map of the landscape of my life. Where is my barf bag? Aging seems so much more external- people seem to stay pretty much the same underneath it all.

Apparently our conversations don't change that much. We probably just get wiser until the senility sets in and then we just forget what the hell were were talking about anyway because how important IS it to go on about Facebook and Weight Watchers anyway? Whether we are young or old it seems we talk about the same stuff.  Things probably just take on different meaning as we get older. Granny probably didn't like the recommendations because she knows what she likes and doesn't need anyone telling her. Except that sounds strangely like Lulu. But at 75 or 80 (or maybe she was 65 but never wore sunscreen?) maybe we have gotten set in our ways.
Regardless the reasons, it all made me laugh.

Taking a bite outta math

A few days ago, Lulu was sent to the vice principals office for biting someone. Jeezus...I am raising a dog.  I went in and spoke to the vice principal yesterday after school because somehow it didn't seem important to call me to let me know that Lulu had been in to to see her.  I don't know about you but if my daughter is reprimanded by the vice principal, I think I should be notified right away.  She was busy and "hadn't gotten around to it." And better yet, Lulu was told that if it happens again,  not only will she be suspended but she will be inputted into the system as a "Known Biter" Great. I'm going to have to get her a muzzle and start serving her fava beans with Chianti. Hannibel Higginson. awesome.  Lulu doesn't even know what "suspended" means.  The way it was relayed to me from Lulu was that she could be "dispended" and this after I was told about the meeting from the mom of the kid that got bit. 

Lulu is really frustrated and not very happy at school. She actually says things like "I hope I am sick so I don't have to go to school." She is 7. SEVEN. What a bright educational future she has! I am so afraid she is going to hate school. Right now her homework consists of a bunch of busy work.  She always complains about there being too much math. What is funny is she is actually good at math.
I spoke with the vice principal at length about everything and walked away thinking she is pointless. The only thing that the school/district/state thinks that kids need to learn is how to read, write and do arithmetic. Such a crock of shit. That doesn't make them well rounded people. I don't know how to make this right in my head. And Oliver will be entering the system next year! The No Child Left Behind program.  How about every child left behind and we don't care?  Getting a little ranty....

Today I went and picked up an application for another school- It is an alternative school that isn't so test score driven. I'm getting a tour on the 28th and I can't wait! The downside is that there are so few spots available. Our chances are slim. I am going to try to be optimistic and hope for the best. Keep the adrenaline high from yesterday's hike up the steepest stairs in the west.  I am feeling like I am keeping a good momentum going in the spirit of change.  Hopefully I will be able to make some changes for my kids that will keep them happy and full of curiosity and wonder.

Treading Happily Along

Sometimes you have good days, EVEN during a midlife crisis. Amazing isn't it?
Yesterday I got an email from Yelp giving me tips of good outdoor places to walk in Los Angeles. In the spirit of trying new things and in an attempt to put myself before cleaning the house, after I dropped off the kids I went straight to a little known place called the Baldwin Hills Outlook for a walk up some stairs. Now those were some serious stairs.  It was a climb of 715 feet up 281 stairs, which I amazingly enough didn't count as I went up which is curious as I have a pension for counting things- like when I slice something I count as I slice, or on small flights of stairs I will count as I climb- I sometimes even count when I brush my teeth- which in and of itself sounds psycho because it actually serves no purpose other then to busy my mind.  What made these stairs even more incredible was the size of the riser on each one- some of them had to be up to 16" high-
Serious workout.
I am really out of shape so this was sort of a funny thing for me to do.  I am always up for a challenge, however, and happily began my hike to get to the stairs themselves.  I was going at a decent clip up the mountainside thinking to myself- "So easy! I am in better shape then I ever imagined!"  About a minute and a half later I am struggling to breathe and I haven't even gotten to the steps which are about 5 minutes up the steep path.. When I get to the steps I look up. Seriously it was a real look UP. I have never seen anything like it. This place has been dubbed the great wall of Culver City. These stairs are literally built into the mountain side and go at a strikingly vertical angle.  As far as building codes go these are NOT to code. They were definitely not at one foot per 12 feet incline. These stairs are some serious shit.  It isn't Wudung Mountain in China, but I felt that there must be some sort of enlightenment at the top and this was about as close as I was going to get to it. How cool would it be to really go there?

It was a beautiful day and the wild flowers are JUST starting to show their little happy faces.  The hillside, or should I say mountainside, was covered in Euphorbia. You hear about native plants but sometimes it just seems like the only place to get these so called "natives" is at a nursery.  Here the $8 a pot plants were growing EVERYWHERE. It took all my self control to not pick a few little ones to bring home with me.  I kept thinking "just one or two...no one would even notice" but if everyone did it then....well there would be no flowers there.But damn they'd look good in my garden.
I managed to wheeze myself to the top with a couple of breaks.  At the top there is a 360 degree view of pretty much everything- the ocean, downtown, the Hollywood sign.  It made me realize how big and small LA is. Standing up there at the top I put my arms in the air and embraced the world. All I needed was "Eye of the Tiger" streaming from some mystery place up there.  Yeah, I was the crazy lady standing up on the top of the mountain pretending to be at the top of the world- I might have looked a little more normal had I made an attempt to tame my hair which was particularly curly and out of control- nothing like impending rain to make the locks loco.  But I was happy so who the fuck cares right?
The idea of stomping my way down the stairs made my spine hurt just thinking about it. Going up a 10-16" riser is a helluva lot different then going down it. I opted for the mile hike down a steep and winding trail.
Another thing I loved about these stairs was that it was populated with real people. I was so thrilled to not be doing stairs with Barbie and her best friends Porsche and Madison. The famous Fourth street stairs of Santa Monica is definitely not where a frumpy mom going through a midlife crisis wants to hang out. I was very happy here with the real folks and I did feel a little enlightened, I guess...or just really winded.  I am excited to go back and see what flowers will bloom in the coming months. A really nice time to be there.

On this hikey walky exercise jaunt, I managed to earn some "weight watcher points"(6) and I was delighted to spend them on a yogurt/granola parfait at a little french cafe that I passed on my way to the stairs.  With a name like L'Epicerie how could I NOT go in and check it out? This place was my second great find of the day. It was also a market and sold french cheeses, bread, misc. food items and wine which was oddly, mostly domestic. I was excited to see that I could buy my daughter a $14 canister of Banania, her favorite beverage that has the most politically incorrect container ever.  $14 is a little steep for chocolate milk but if I can spend the same on a bottle of wine then I should be able to spend it on her drink of choice. Gotta be fair.

So a great morning it was.  I am actually going to make an attempt to do these stairs again on Saturday morning early early before my Weight Watchers weigh in. Lets see how sore I am tomorrow! eeks. Midlife crisis can be a good thing. Today was good. I took care of myself.

The Prince of Asia

Today I took the kids to the Natural History Museum to see dinosaurs.  After an afternoon at bone gazing and question answering we were HUNGRY.  Being on Weight Watchers and being really hungry is not a good combo- the general rules seem to go out the window as you decide that it is a great idea to drive over to nearby Koreatown to have dinner. I love me some Korean grill cooking.  Korean BBQ never sounds quite right to me- When I think about BBQ, I think of men slathering gooey red sauces on chicken legs or a ridiculously large piece of pig.  With Korean BBQ there is the little grill in the center of the table, on which one decently cooks pieces of beef, pork or chicken- delicately turning it with chopsticks.  This is nimble cooking, not some big slab of cow smoking on the coals with a dirty tank top wearing dude flipping it with a prong.  Despite the dainty little grill at the Korean BBQ restaurant a rather indecent amount of meat was consumed.  I am lucky that my other meals of the day were low in points because otherwise I would have felt even grosser then I do now.  But THIS is not the point of this blog- 

My son Oliver is incredibly cute.  He is actually also incredibly beautiful. He is a kind and gentle soul and thinks of others. He shares and will gladly give you his cookie if he thinks you might want it.  On top of all that he has a way of looking at people through his eyelashes with his head tilted ever so slightly down that makes pretty much everyone like him. People will always gravitate towards him. This blog is ALSO not about how gorgeous and wonderful I think my son is...but I will throw in some pictures to drive the cuteness home.

I read alot of books written by Asian writers. I don't know what it is about these books that I like so much but I really DO enjoy them.  One of my favorite authors is Gail Tsukiyama.  I think I first got into them way back when Memoirs of a Geisha was written. I friggin' LOVE that book.  I was also really into Japan as a kid and thought going for Sukiyaki was the coolest thing ever and that Whooping Cranes were snazzy birds. Anyway- Because I have read so many of these books I feel like I have a little bit of an understanding of Asian cultures. Sons are revered while, in most cases, daughters have very little importance.  So what the hell is this about you are wondering and how much weed have I smoked? actually none.

At the restaurant, I was struck by the amount of attention my son got from the waitstaff.  I was trying to figure out if they just thought he was cute or if it was also because he was a boy.  Lulu didn't get the same attention and as far as I am concerned, she is just as adorable.  The amount of attention wasn't just a few ooo's and aws but was the waiter bringing different waiters over, yammering in Korean and looking at him and mussing his hair. They really waited on him too and listened intently when he spoke. It was very nice and my head swelled with pride but it also verged on almost weird.  While I'm stuffing myself with meat and the waiter with the strangely unkorean name of Chris is helping Oliver take his sweater off and smoothing down his hair and wiping the meat juice off his hands I am trying to imagine what was going through Lulu's head.  She compares everything between her and Oliver. It is like a big contest.  At the Korean BBQ Oliver was clearly "winning".  I seriously wouldn't have been surprised if they gave him a present before we left or maybe a crown.  AND, I kid you not, after I left my credit card on the table to pay, when they brought it back they gave it to him. I, seriously, just don't know what to make of it and in my little head I am skimming through hundreds of pages of stories set in Asia that might answer this for me.  It made me wonder about how females must feel in these countries. And then I thought of bitchy ol' Tiger mom whose book I have NOT read even though she IS Asian. I can't imagine being a mom like her-  I am thinking of of my husband's mother who always asks if our kids were the cutest ones in a room. I am thinking she would have loved this. So what is the point of this blog? I guess there really isn't one. Maybe I just wanted to gloat.  I do feel bad for my little Lulu though.  I could never chose one over the other- nor would I ever treat one kid better then their sibling.  

Today at the farmer's market we ran into my therapist and afterwards in the car Lulu said in a very matter of fact way "I think I need to go in and speak to Barbara because of all the lying and cutting my hair and biting my friend. I shouldn't be doing these things. I need to talk to Barbara about it because she really understands me" This coming out of a 43 pound 7 year old. Now if that isn't cute...

photo by Laurie Bailey   April 2009

Bang bang

This morning as I cuddled my kidlets, I noticed Lulu had clumps of short hair that mildly resembled bangs.  When I asked her what happened she very casually said that two weeks ago the PE coach had to cut her unicorn necklace out of her hair. If nothing else I AM observant. I have an uncanny ability to see "stuff"- part of the GPS that is hard wired into my brain.  AND the size of the clump was wwwway bigger then a necklace could have gotten tangled in- unless, of course, the necklace wasn't a little circle with a pony head in it but was ohh maybe a big prickly pine cone with a spinning inside that resembles the interior of a zhou zhou pet. And what teacher in their right mind would chop a kids hair like that?
Because she was so casual about how she told me, my first thought was that I was going to march into the Principal's office and demand to know what kind of rules they had when it came to cutting a little circular horse head charm out of some one's hair. THEN- I was going to march up to the PE teacher and give her a piece of my psycho mommy mind.  But 2 weeks ago? I would have noticed.   I proceeded to ask her to tell me the truth. She told me the same story again.  When I got a little stern, she told it again. Now I am starting to wonder if I am violating our trust because I am doubting her. and I start feeling bad. So JUST to test her, I said that I was going to talk to the coach and the principal about it. Horrified she zipped out of the bed and ran into her room.  Finally, after pressing her, she admitted that she had cut it herself last night.
So now I am not just mad that her hair is all fucked up but that she lied. And her lie came so easily and was almost believable and she is only 7. What the hell am I in for?  I shutter to think what my little darling angel baby will be when she is 14. yikes.  And the challenge her is how do I "nip it in the bud"? How do I teach her that lying is wrong? That she could get someone else in trouble?  I understand that maybe she feels like an idiot for chopping a chunk of her hair for apparently no reason at all but why is it that she just can't say oops? She hates to talk about things. And if there is ANYTHING that I want her to feel comfortable with it is talking about things with me because I didn't have that and may be a more functional person had I had that. Not that I am entirely dysfunctional but we have our issues.
This afternoon I tried to fix the damage to her hair and can I just say that bangs do not suit Lulu.  Poor thing was outraged that I had to cut her hair a bit to make it bland in. Like cut the other side since only one side was cut.  The punishment for her lie was to go to bed without Woody, her favorite thing in the whole world.  How I wish that I could find such comfort from a mangy little green ball with two eyes and part of a nose. After about an hour of crying she finally went to sleep. I'm torn because I hated keeping Woody from her but the lie...the lie. Am I expecting too much from an almost 8 year old? I swear I have never been this mean to her.  When I tried to talk to her about what she had done and what could have happened she screamed she didn't care if her coach got in trouble. Ugh, it all makes me feel so grown up and like I need to set a good example.  It was so much easier playing peek-a-boo.  Another aspect of life that I need to figure out.  As if midlife crisis isn't enough!

Education rant

There are few things in life that really get my blood boiling.  One of them is public education and the lack of funding.  I grew up going to private school so I am still trying to figure out the "whole public school thing".  I have this perpetual feeling that I am somehow failing because my kids are and will be stuck in a failing system.  I really WANT to love public education and yet everyday when I drive by the local private school I feel a little grumble in my heart that has nothing to do with what I ate that morning.  I am so angry that the schools aren't better and that there are so many people, lets just call them Republicans, that think that education is secondary.  Why is it more important for CEOs to have their multimillion dollar bonuses and that we pay for multi-billion dollar wars in other countries where they don't even want us while our kids, OUR kids are basically marching into a screaming mess.
When I was a kid I had french twice a week and art and music and a science lab . We had a gymnasium with balance beams and trampolines, carpeted hallways with clean lockers lining them.  If it rained it was dry and warm, if it was sunny and hot there was air conditioning. That was 30 plus years ago.  My daughter's school is considered one of "the better ones" as far as the public schools in Los Angeles are concerned. They are learning the basics- math, reading etc but it seems that it is all test/numbers driven.  The whole thing with accountability and testing is just not working- The kids aren't interested. My daughter doesn't enjoy school that much. I don't remember not wanting to go to school when I was in second grade. "It's all about the numbers" is the wrong way to approach our kids.  The better the numbers the more funding the school gets. Test test test. Just what every 7 year old wants to do.  What happened to making education fun? We should be looking for ways to make education more creative and diverse, and to make students more well-rounded and independent. And such things as learning another language- French....To these kids french is either a kind of toast, a fry or a mustard as far as they are concerned.  Why isn't learning another language not important? Should we be so arrogant to assume that everyone in the world speaks English and if they don't then their schools can teach them how to talk like us? Is this what our kids are going to think?
Funding has been cut and then cut and then cut. There are 24 kids in my daughters class- one teacher and as far as I can tell not much extra help. It smells musty and its damp from a leak. These kids are our future and sometimes it feels like no one gives a shit. How is this approach to education going to make our children great adults.  Is it only up to us as parents? Is it 95% of it comes from home?
Last year my daughter had the MOST fantastic first grade teacher. She had more energy and enthusiasm then most of the other teachers combined. I was THRILLED with her. When budget cuts rolled around last year she was given her pink slip and this was all based on seniority.  So all the excited new teachers would leave and the old grouchy burnt out ones could stay. Not only was about 25% of the teachers given pink slips but the libraries were in danger of being closed down as well. And the school nurse was going to be itinerant.  This is ridiculous.  The teachers' job  as well as the libraries AND nurses were eventually saved due to parent driven fund raising for the district. But again this year the system is facing more cuts. And why should it be the responsibility of the parents to clean up after a shitty government?
On Jon Stewart the other day he did a monologue about the budget cuts and how Educators are expected to take pay cuts and benefit cuts while CEOs still keep all theirs intact.
See monologue here
Rather than ending tax cuts for the wealthy or closing corporate tax loopholes, Republicans want to get money from the teachers. I just can't figure it out. I am at a loss for words when it comes to the values of some Republicans.  And teacher salaries. Yes, my husband is a teacher and I'd love if we had a fatter bank account but really- teachers deserve to be paid more.  They are shaping our future.  This is a rant- I know but hey- mid life crisis has its rants- I am trying to make MY immediate world and reality better for me. And as for my future- isn't that sort of in the hands of all these kids that are in sub-par schools learning how to take timed math tests?  So will our taxes that we pay to the schools now go to buying more flat screen TVs for inmates or maybe to help bail out a fallen bank?  How do I keep from feeling like I am failing my kids? I should be able to trust public education. I really should. and I don't.  As snobby as it sounds I wish my kids could have the carpet lined hallways and science labs. But that ain't gonna happen.

Morning Stream that I am writing at Night

An uneventful ultrasound with Oliver in tow- "Mommy, " he says,"Are we having a baby?" "No" I answered. "Then why is your belly so big?"
This counting points thing is a BIG pain in the ass but I am doing it. Today was a particularly ludicrous day-I had oatmeal with banana and almonds for breakfast and then didn't anything but a few green tea mints from Trader Joes- yum- until about 4. By this time I was at gymnastics with Lulu and was really hungry. So I went to the vending machine- which I NEVER do- and had 4 points worth of Sun Chips. Then we came home and I had to get our potluck contribution to Lulu's second grade "family" night ready.  So by the time we get there I have stored about 20 points worth of food which I TOTALLY blow on meatballs, chicken nuggets and some bad flan and some equally bad pound cake of some kind.  Pure junk. And I still have like one point to spare. (I didn't eat 45 meatballs and a whole pan of flan-) Because I am psycho like that I will weigh myself in the morning and see if this evenings binge made a difference. Regardless of that I am actually feeling quite a bit better today.  But the day started off slightly hellaciously.
As usual we were running late. Lulu wanted pancakes, Oliver wanted crepes. Luckily I have the batter ready made so it isn't a huge deal. I made Lulu a "Woody" pancake which she complained looked more like Mickey Mouse- Oliver as usual was happy with his jam filled crepes. * o' clock arrives and we need top leave.  I go through this every day and I can't figure out why it is always a nightmare. I'm trying to get the kids in the car, Oliver is frantically trying to figure out what to bring "for share" at school which I don't get because they don't even have show and tell in his preschool and he insists on doing this EVERY day.  Lulu is wearing a tank top while I have on a long sleeve shirt, a sweater and am thinking about going overkill with my down jacket.  It is not hot outside so clearly one of us isn't dressed right. And maybe I'm a little overdressed but come on. I swear I am wondering if I actually gave birth to a pair of goats...except goats would be easier to get into the car. Anyway we are driving up to school.  I am being told to shut up as I absently sing along with "the Leftovers Are Coming to Get Me"- another song I have been subjected to hearing over and over again in the car.  I am feeling irritated and like I want to pull off my ponytails and choke myself with them. I feel like I go through this everyday- this hurry hurry hurry get in the car, did you brush your teeth? Lulu put on your shoes. Not those- those are too small- we just got you some beautiful shies that fit. Come on put them on. They won't feel funny for very long. I promise you are going to think they are SO comfortable.... Put them ON. . Oliver, you don't need a share, put on your seat belt, I thought YOU had your backpack.  That is supposed to be your responsibility. Oliver stop eating your snack- that's for school. Oliver stop bothering Lulu.  Oliver, OLIVER will you please listen? Oliver! Lulu brush your hair it looks like a rat and his 3 cousins had a party in there. Bicker Bicker and then a few minutes of being entranced by Lorenzo Llama on Kids Place Live (Sirius satellite) followed by 18 questions pertaining to why does Lorenzo Llama not want to be touched? We get to school right as the bell rings and as I basically toss Lulu out the door, I am told by Lulu that  I NEVER walk her to class.  Which is total bullshit because I walk there almost everyday.  Lulu has this weird thing about the old guy that helps the children get safely from their cars into the school gate.  She freaks out if he tries to open the door.  I always jump out quickly to beat him to the door but sometimes he gets there first. Slippery fellow. So here is this guy who is somebody's grandpa and every time I unlock the car with the remote and he tries to open the door, Lulu locks it.  This goes on for like 20 seconds and I am about to blow a gasket. He is nervously chuckling as if to tell me, "What a charming little princess you have here!" and he really means "Get your fucking kid outta the car because you are blocking traffic" He finally gets her out and quickly guides her around the car and into the gate.  And the look Lulu gave me! Yikes.  As soon as Lulu gets out of the car, Oliver usually falls silent, asking every so often what song we are listening to- though he could care less- he does it because Lulu does it.  He gets mad if when he talks and  I say "Uh huh", so usually once during our drive from Lulu's school to his preschool, I will inadvertently answer "Uh Huh" and he will start reprimanding me.  Finally I drop Oliver off and am alone! and then I get a text from my dear friend about walking on the beach and immediately my day begins to get better.  And in looking back the good stuff REALLY isn't as entertaining as the bad stuff.
I am wondering if the thyroid supplement that I began is helping me with the achiness.  Could it happen that fast? I still need to blog about the visit with the endrocrinologist . Maybe tomorrow. Wow...I am really tired. Gnight.

On Self Compassion

There was an interesting article in the New York Times about self compassion titled "Go Easy on Yourself, a New Research Urges" written by Tara Parker-Pope.
Tidbits-
"Do you treat yourself as well as you treat others?
People who find it easy to be supportive and understanding to others, it turns out, often score surprisingly low on self-compassion tests, berating themselves for perceived failures like being overweight or not exercising.
The research suggests that giving ourselves a break and accepting our imperfections may be the first step toward better health. People who score high on tests of self-compassion have less depression and anxiety, and tend to be happier and more optimistic."
"Imagine your reaction to a child struggling in school or eating too much junk food. Many parents would offer support, like tutoring or making an effort to find healthful foods the child will enjoy. But when adults find themselves in a similar situation — struggling at work, or overeating and gaining weight — many fall into a cycle of self-criticism and negativity. That leaves them feeling even less motivated to change."
"Dr. Neff suggests a set of exercises — like writing yourself a letter of support, just as you might to a friend you are concerned about. Listing your best and worst traits, reminding yourself that nobody is perfect and thinking of steps you might take to help you feel better about yourself are also recommended."

All interesting ideas.
I find myself in the position of helping others alot. I am THAT friend that will help you paint your house, bring you food when you are sick, offer to help and actually follow through. I am also THAT mom who seems to be wearing the same clothes everyday, has inch long roots and can't seem to figure out what the hell to do with my own space.
Mid life crisis- swimming through it and sometimes hitting some stormy seas- which by the way is one of the scariest things I can imagine- floating around in the middle of a cold sea during a storm, at night. eeks. THIS isn't scary like that. phew.
A good lesson IS to list the positives and perhaps just forget about the negatives because that is just written reinforcement of what I already think.  Writing the positives does seem self indulgent but fuck it- here it is:
I have a good sense of color, I am good at fixing things, I am a decent cook, I am good at figuring things out, I am good at multitasking, I am thoughtful and mostly considerate, I am creative, I can count backwards by sevens really fast, I am well traveled, my brain came with it's own GPS- making it very difficult for me to get lost. I am a good listener, I can carry a tune, I can carry at least 50 pounds no problem, I pretty much have a photographic memory for places.  I am outgoing, I am friendly but have been told, not literally, that I have an air that says "Stay away from me lest I bite you" I have nice fingernails when they aren't dirty. I am a good driver.  I have a dark sense of humor (Which I believe to be a good thing) I am good at rhyming. I have rhythm. Put those two together and you'd think I could rap- but I can't- at least I never tried. I can do my own tax returns. When I am your friend you can count on me for almost anything because I am and truly believe that I am a good friend.
and my letter of support
Dear Susanna- you silly little minx (like cheeky not the sexy seductive kind)

Yes I AM lucky.
now off to get my ultrasound!

Weighing it in

Why should Jennifer Hudson be the only person to go from fat to fanfriggintastic? Why I ask? Why Why Why? Answer to the overly obvious question is she shouldn't be.
On Saturday, I joined Weight Watchers in hopes of going from fat n' frumpy to hottie mom. If I wasn't so overly self conscious and disgusted with myself I would post a "before" picture and REALLY emphasize my extra layer. But I'm not going to because as you would know- if you have followed this at all- is I hate for people from the past to see pictures of me and think "Holy shit, what the fuck happened to her? She used to have such a great figure."But I WILL post my triumphant afters when the afters are worthy of public view.
What I am finding about this program is that I think about food all the time. This points system makes you track everything you eat.  I find myself inputting recipes so I will know JUST how many points I have consumed in a single serving of such things as my favorite lentil soup for example. (5 points)
I get 29 points a day. For breakfast I could have  2 Samoa girl scout cookies for 4 points or I can have an egg white omelet with spinach and mozzarella and an English muffin. But don't those girl scout cookies sound deeeelish?  My problem is the "I only get TWO cookies???"
Another fact about me is I have NO self control when it comes to sweets. Candy, cookies, cupcakes, my kids, any delectable treat that includes lemon as an ingredient.  I can't eat half a cookie. My first thought to that sentence was "Who the fuck only eats half a cookie?" That is how pathetic I am.
I went to my first "meeting" this past Saturday morning bright and early at 8am. yeah yeah, who the fuck eats the cookie...who the fuck gets up to be some place at 8am on Saturday? I don't go to church so this is going to be my version of Mass. I was all ready to stand up in front of everyone and say "Hello my name is Susanna" look down with shame and whisper, "and I am fat" then the crowd stands up, claps, welcomes me with open arms, pats on the back, words of encouragement.  This didn't happen.  If you know anything about me you would find it slightly comical that I am in this room with a bunch of folks all wanting to be svelte like Jennifer Hudson.  Especially with my flawdar spinning on it's axis as I size up and compare everyone to myself.
At the end of the meetings they "celebrate" people and their weight loss.  There is a guy there who has lost 119 pounds and in celebration they gave him a gold washer. Okay- great he lost a hundred pounds but what is he gonna do with a gold washer? Go home and do some plumbing? I have to say though, I was impressed. It takes alot of will to do that and he wasn't even a bad looking guy- though I think I would have saved the Kelly Green Sweatshirt for St. Patricks Day. Bam!...see? had to go there.
So, so far I have been doing pretty good. Alot of salad, veggies, not one cookie and no ice cream.  Tomorrow I am getting an Ultra sound of my tummy in the place where it hurts.  I am thinking I have bacterial overgrowth, as I have had it before and that knife stabby feeling is sorta the same.  The Ultrasound will tell me nothing about that but it will rule out other things that I shutter to imagine what they are. Maybe they will tell me that Jennifer Hudson is living in my tummy and if I just give birth to her I will be cute and sassy again?

Garden stares

I've mentioned that in I am a designer. I haven't done much of it recently and "redoing" our backyard and garage is eluding me slightly.  For the past couple weeks I have spent a few minutes a day sitting on the steps at the back of my house pretty much just staring.  I can stare for long periods of time.  In fact, as a kid I had a friend who's bedroom window had an amazing jetliner view of La Jolla and the ocean.  I used to love to stand at her window and just stare look stare.  So much so, that my friend thought for sure that someday I would be a pilot.
So I sit in my backyard and play pilot and try to figure out what the hell to do with the space.
Take out the concrete, leave the concrete, keep part of it, take it all away...grass? DG? new concrete but not grey? I like stepstone pavers...too bad they are so pricey. No they aren't that pricey but my backyard is big...Could I do some of it like that? Is it too "Piece meal" looking like my mom says?  hmmmm...16' opening....oxxo slider door...no bi fold, no glass garage door, no oxxo, xxxo? Does that exist? Ugh Fleetwood...pricey...gotta empty out the garage....steps, steps....deck? Pergola...Need to take out dead passion flower vine. What happened to that vine anyway? Tree...need a tree...what would Ann do? gotta check out her garden again....Maybe the library has some good garden design books...Garden design books are always pricey...ART books are expensive....How does that squirrel carry that orange? Be nice to have more birds...need a tree...Mexican bamboo...definitely need some of that...Need an overall design. Concrete? pavers? Deck maybe a tree BY the deck? need to have different things going on. Kids need a good surface to bike/skate on. Damn...bricks? bad for skateboard...Does Oliver even like skateboarding. He did it once last week. Oops...Asparagus bloomed..bummer...need to take out some of that ginger plant...Freakishly big. need to cut top off of nectarine tree. I miss the plum tree. but now I can take away the concrete. Sand colored? DG? put the table there? What would Ann do? Her garden rocks. Garage door...oxxo slider? bi fold? is there such a thing as a xxxo? It is probably a million dollars.  How can that guy take away all this concrete AND dispose of it for so little? Gotta get Sam to understand that we can't take out the concrete until we have a plan. need a plan...need a plan. Fuck...Why can't I do this?
Meanwhile my eyes are scanning back and forth.  I am probably sighing a lot and wishing my inner yammer made a little more sense. It is very circular.   But I think I have these inner dialogues about everything.  Over analytical perhaps.  Maybe I should have the kids each draw a design and try to incorporate some of their ideas? Oh yeah- we need a rocket ship in the corner and a tree house on the roof. and a fairy garden with a gazillion figurines and maybe a fountain. SO what I had in mind.  I just want an awesome space. and then the inside of the garage...I could go on for hours forever.  But I DO have the skylights.  What is strange is usually I have a vision in my head of what I want and I can execute it. My garden totally eludes me.  My garage I see but with impaired vision. Frustrating.
I think I should take pictures tomorrow and document my progression. SO original, I know. Maybe by doing that I can clarify that- because writing this blog thingy is sure helping me to clarify some shit in my life even if it bores you to tears.

Here is a golden tidbit for you.... I am a research whore and a half. Sliding and or Bi fold doors are expensive- especially when you have a 16' opening to cover.  Bi folds are cool because you can essentially open up the whole wall to the outside. If you think you won't always open it all the way and don't want parts of it sticking out when it is partially folded then a slider makes more sense.  You can do these in different configurations but always make sure that if you want something like an oxxo- meaning that the outside panels are stationary and the inner two open- that there isn't a center post. The cheaper doors have this.  Again, doors are expensive.  If you need sliding glass doors there is a company called G-ology that has some great looking and less expensive then other doors.  I am thinking about getting the 4 panel sliding g-door...or the bifold.  I haven't seen these doors in person but they look nice from the pictures and are a fraction of the cost of the damn fleetwoods, lacantina, friggin cool ass nanawall and others. www.g-ology.com. I can't figure out why websites put music on their pages but this site has it and thankfully there is a headphone you can click to shut it up.  With people having such varying tastes It is strange to me that they do this.  What if I hate cheesy chill electronica? just sayin'

Crisis update

So here is my solving my crisis update.

I'm down to 15 mg of Cymbalta a day,  I haven't gotten a migraine this week and I should be getting my period tomorrow. This has been a very shifty week.  My moods are not very predictable lately and I feel cold all the time. I'm not complaining but I am hyper aware of whats going on, being in midlife crisis and all. I am finding that I am feeling things more intensely.  I feel REALLY pissed off when I am mad but I am also happier when I am happy.  I am not manic or bipolar- just feeling.  I am enjoying a sunny day more and damn, my house is clean.  My cleaning neurosis seems to be returning and the fact that my house looks like my housekeeper was JUST here and has looked that way consistently for a few days is enough to get me cheering from my rooftop.  I am actually saving time- or actually- gaining free time because I am not putting things off. I clean the kitchen after breakfast- quickly and BEFORE taking the kids to school. Kinda nice though I am driving like a bat outta hell to get Lulu to school on time.  Need to work on the timing a little.  I forgot to take the Cymbalta one day and had the dreaded nausea. 15mg...damn.  Those pharmaceutical companies sure know what they are doing when they strategize on how to continue to make money. "Let's make sure those suckers really notice when they don't take our fantastic happy pills." (Satanic laughter followed by wringing of the hands) "just watch them try, Try, TRY!!!! Bwaa hahaha!"  I think that antidepressants are great- don't get me wrong- but I never imagined the hell it would be to get off of them.

I just started taking vitamin D- I am vitamin D deficient-have I mentioned that?  Funny to live in California- IN THE SUN- and be vitamin D deficient. I am a sunscreen whore. It's skin cancer vs. soft bones, fatigue, moodiness, depression and seasonal affective disorders.  So taking the little capsules AND saving my skin because I gotta have the sunscreen. I'm vain that way.  If you saw my grandma you'd understand.  I have that thinnish Scandinavian skin that sizzles in a cloud cover..
Hmm...maybe the lack of vitamin D is what makes my feet hurt.  Also vitamin d gets absorbed into one's fat cells so overweight-not so good.
The weight....egads.  That is sticking to me like a million little geckos having a party. 

Thinking about getting the Alien Ganglion removed. It is REALLY bothering me. So great to have a little sensitive cyst to remind me how often I use my hands. 8 minute surgery and I have to be put under. That's it. and no more Ouchees. I tried to pop it by smashing my finger with a garlic press- it was there and had a flat side and a book is too big. I whacked it many times and only succeeding in making it hurt worse. So not only did I end up with a sore finger but I also felt like an idiot. And it wasn't even a hurt so good kind of a thing.
I have an appointment with another endocrinologist next week to get a second opinion on my thyroid levels and sexy nodule. Also getting an ultrasound of tummy thing that hurts. Then I should get some new spark plugs.

And unrelated to my health, I am aging, issues- I like my woodworking class.  I made a mitered edge frame and a dado joint. Ooo laalaa. Feeling very accomplished. Also- got an estimate for my backyard to get the concrete removed so that we can grade around the garage so I can at last have a studio.
I think I am more peppy, getting more things done. Bribing the kids with quarters is working well- Lulu thinks that when she has $100 she can get a computer, an itouch and  a TV for her room. Ha! Maybe she can pay someone to steal them for her.
OH- AND I finished our taxes and sent them in. sssslam dunk. Love that I have that done.  So there is a fraction of my life summed up in a lil' ol blog.  I think I need to get a little more clever next time...

In with the Old

So I went to my grade school "event" and despite my misgivings and general distaste for the school itself, I had a remarkably good time.  I saw one of my English teachers who I always felt didn't care for me much- I told him that I didn't know he had named his daughter, Susanna, after me. (I don't think he did but it was a good icebreaker)-but when we spoke he told me how great it was to see me and his eyes were all glossy and he certainly seemed genuine.  The headmistress came up to me and thanked me profusely for being at an event in the mid nineties.  I thought it odd considering there was another teacher there and we were asked to say nice things about him. I had nothing nice to say because he truly is an asshole so instead I politely ripped him a new asshole.  And she thanked me for it.  She said she learnt SO much that night. I got emails for months after that from other former students thanking me for being honest.
Anyway... The thing that really gets me is how people who knew you when you were in fourth grade and through high school seem so much more unconditionally there.  There is a weird trust. An unsaid almost love that makes you feel immediately comfortable with them. After the event, I went to a deli that I hadn't been to in about 15 years with a guy I knew who is two years my senior (Cool guy I ran into at Starbucks), a girl who was one of my best friends when I was about 14 and a guy from my sisters class who "went" with her in like 6th grade.  And it was SO easy to be with them. We happily chatted over our Reubens and pancakes. We talked about politics, about our kids, life in general- it was really interesting and I felt like someone I wanted to be friends with. 
During this midlife crisis I have been searching for myself.  And I am finding myself in the most unlikely of places. There is a lesson there that I will try to take to heart. I am taking more chances- not like jumping into the street to see if a car will hit me but throwing myself into situations where I am not sure I will be comfortable.  I have been so pleasantly surprised so far.  Makes me want to do more things!

Memory Lane is a Pain

BIG close encounters on the agenda for this evening.  I canNOT believe that I am actually going to go to a reunion of sorts for my high school.  I HATED my high school and most of the people there.  The teachers were not very charming and many of them just downright mean and disrespectful.  Too bad my favorite teacher there ended up having affairs with students. Ugh...a Pedophile. The best teacher there- in my opinion- was a pedophile. Thankfully I remained unmolested. By him anyway.
I think of these people all standing around at this event making small talk, talking about the "old days" as if they are the days of glory- the golden days- the days when things were just better. I'm pretty sure no one really cares about each other and if there are like me, MAY be going to check out the fancy digs and free food. and then I think about the 25 years of girth. A pound for every year and a matching wrinkle just to make one feel smashing or just feel like smashing things.  What the hell to wear? What makes me look skinny? What makes me look young? What makes me look like the kind of person that people say. "Wow the years have been good to her." and why oh why do I care? THAT is the most annoying part. Besides the HUGE flawdar (Radar for flaws) that will be going bizerk over my head this evening.  Negative connotations make my flawdar really hum with glee. So one has to ask...WHY the hell go anyway?
WWWWWell...in midlife crisis we seek out new adventures and this is about as close to an adventure that I can get to at the moment. The terror! And, in all honesty, maybe I will see some people who look like shit and have boring lives that will make me feel much better about myself and life as a laundress/chauffeur.  There are a couple people I am friendly with there. The guy I ran into last week was a lovely person.  Imagine my horror if all the people are really nice! Yikes!
It doesn't help that I am at day 17 of my "cycle". Day 15-17 are the days that I should have my batteries removed and be shoved in the back of a closet. I am an ugly ugly person. No apologies. I'm bitchy and have pretty much no patience. Definitely not my shinier days as far as sparkling personality goes. These also seem to be the days when my kids make an extra effort to see how close they can get me to blow a gasket. As I write this Oliver is in the background going "Waagaa Waaga Waaga!' loudly and with a high pitched squeaky girly boy voice- Lulu is listening to Pandora.  She has programmed it to only play music from Mary Poppins, the Lion King, Annie, the Little Mermaid, Lilo and Stitch and the Sound of Music.  It is FAN  TASTIC.  This is also a reason that this mama needs to get out of the house.  I am willing to subject myself to a reunion just to get a break. Wow...there is a psychological study right there.
So after the "gathering" and I am hopefully feeling well liquified and can spend the rest of the evening trying to figure THIS week out.  I am putting things off. I need to convert our garage. I need to get the concrete removed from our backyard but the cost of it makes me what to hurl- and strangely $58 kids shoes don't??? huh.
I need to get our tickets for the summer. 2 months in Europe. We are fancy that way and lucky as fuck that we have a fairy mother in law who gets us there.  To do to do. A-wheem-a way A -wheema-a way. friggin Lion King.
Need some inspiration.
and I need to get myself primped for my trip down memory lane. 

There's a marble in my shoe

I have stopped the physical therapy for my feet- I haven't really been wearing the orthotics.  I have been walking in my MBT's. All is as it once was before midlife crisis began.  Strangely enough, the feet are feeling a bit better. Maybe I was just treating them too old.  Maybe the weight of the world is less heavy. I don't miss cute podiatrist and I'm not sure I will go back. I DID like the foot massages but luckily I have a husband who is always happy to oblige. Lucky lucky me.

I'd like to really start walking again- maybe even do a pathetic jog that kind of looks like walking but is really a jog that really aught to just be a walk.  I should probably get some new running shoes- maybe even get fitted at the New balance store for them.  Oh that sounds ULTRA fancy. Will I actually go and get MY feet fitted for a new pair of shoes. Probably not. I still haven't gotten a new pumice stone.

Both Sam and I have narrow feet so, yes, our children also have narrow feet.  Gone are the days of happily buying $14 shoes at Target. Lulu has been wearing a pair of size 11 shoes for the past while.  She likes them because they stay on her feet. This would be great if her feet was actually a size 11. They are 12.5. She has been complaining of hip pain and has gotten out of PE class at school complaining that her feet hurt.  I have tried to get her to wear bigger shoes but she has refused and anyone that knows Lulu knows how hard it can be to make her do anything she doesn't want to do.  I broke down and took her to the expensive shoe store where they basically have a pediatric podiatrist fit them for shoes.  ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ONE dollars is what I spent today.  And Lulu was SUCH a brat. Here I am in the shoe store as Lulu is being presented beautiful shoe after beautiful shoe that will make her tiny little feet happy. She is scoffing and turning her nose up and all I can think is "What the Fuck? I wish someone would take ME out of their way and get me some happy feet shoes." and Yes I AM available if anyone should feel the urge to...
I am so acutely aware of the pain that my kids could have. I don't want them to have plantar fasciatis or get weird pains here and there. They are little! They shouldn't have midlife crisis pain. So each kid got 2 pairs of shoes- Some sparkly grey ones and some suede pink ones for Lulu- some grey sandals and obnoxious lite up sneaks for Oliver.  And what did I get? An earful from Lulu and over sized balloons thrown at my head as I sped down the 405 freeway. Life is dreamy and my kids feet will be healthy, happy and hoppy.  Trying to be zen. Trying to be zen.
I really HAVE been looking for my marbles....I wrote a while back about trying to be a better mom. I suppose getting shoes that fit is a great start.  But I am really trying not to let their little "things" make me mad. Lulu was being embarrassingly snotty and princess like and I didn't freak out on her. I apologized for her behavior to the guy at the store. He was SUCH a gentleman about it. He must deal with a ton of little fuckers everyday.  In the car I told her she was disrespectful and that wasn't OK to speak to grownups, or anyone like that.  Probably went over her head but in my mind I feel like she really heard me and learnt something. HA... no, but really.

But it was a good day. I spent the whole day with the kids and I think I was really present.  This is the first time I have been on the computer today- Saw seals this morning as I walked around the sun drenched marina with Oliver while Lulu did her karate class.  I thought to myself that life is pretty good.  The east coast is freezing and here I am in a t shirt holding a nice little warm hand and listening to the excited little questions of my littlest beloved as the seals give each other kisses.  He is wearing new shoes.  I am not. and yet it was all good.  We went to the park, I had meaningful conversations with other moms, we went for lunch, saw a bad kid's movie. It was a real Saturday (as opposed to a fake Saturday where I ignore the kids and they watch TV. but actually that kind of Saturday sounds kinda good too.) They were exhausted and went right to sleep. I am exhausted too and my feet don't hurt.
Ya know. I think I have found a marble or two.