Saturday, August 30, 2014
I almost forgot my blog password. Lucky for you I remembered.
I don't have a computer. Well, I do have one. It broke several years ago and I still haven't taken it in to get fixed. I got an iPhone and decided I didn't really care about my computer. I could just use Dan's. Somehow I managed to hijack my mom's computer over the summer. This is just a random picture she had in her photo album. My sweet little Danny when he wasn't even 2. This will be my blogging standard from now on: random picture and random thoughts. I seriously do not have the brain power for more than that.
Several times this summer I stared at our beautiful Mt. Timpanogos and envisioned myself hiking all the way to the top, all by myself. I'd stand there looking out at the valley below me and then scream at the top of my lungs, "I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE!!!" But more like this, "IIIIIIIIIII!!!! CAAAAAAAN!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOT!!!!!! DOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! THIIIIIIIIIIIS!!!!!! ANYYYYYYYY!!!!!! MOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!!!!!" So long and so loud. And then I'd stay up there and have a nice long, purging cry and hike back down.
Summer makes me feel like something is wrong with me. Well, I always feel like something is wrong with me. Summer just makes it even worse. Why does everyone around me seem to be enjoying the heat and the sun and every single water related leisurely activity known to man? Why? I hate all of that. I can't do it. Something's wrong with me. There was actually a dusting of snow on that Mt. Timpanogos last Saturday and I cried. I am crying again thinking about it.
It rained the first two days of school. Danny cried the second day. "I am not going to school!" It was horrible. I carried him to the car. Good thing he's not big on kicking and hitting along with his crying. First grade was hard for him, all the way up to the very end. He'd say stuff like, "Isn't there such a thing as home school? Like Home. School. Kids just go to school at home?" Ug. I cried a lot last year. He did too. I prayed a lot too.
I hoped this year would be better. I am an anxious wreck every morning before school. I feel like I'm walking on emotional eggshells around him. Say positive things about school but not too many so that I irk him and send him the opposite direction. I hug him and kiss him and tell him that he's brave and strong and I believe in him. I hold him on my lap every morning before school and say a prayer out loud just for him. I pray for his teacher and for his classmates. I even pray for the recess duty ladies.
I've at least figured out that Danny's biggest worry about school is not being safe. He needs to be where he can see an adult at all times. On Monday I mentioned to the duty lady that he gets very worried before school starts and they are lined up outside if he can't see an adult. You know what she said, "Oh, that's no problem. I'll just stand over here where he can see me. And I'll wait until all the second graders are in the building before I leave." I walked away from that and cried in the car. And I decided then and there that if you have the chance to just be a little kinder to someone who needs it, do it.
And of course Cate just practically skips to her classroom. She's happy and chatty all morning before school. No tears. No worries. And I wonder how they can be so different. And I also wonder what that would've been like last year to have no tears and no anxiety about school. All those parents with happy school kids, they're lucky.
This doesn't get easier. It just changes. And so do I and so do they. They're mine and I love them and I'm doing the best I can.
Posted by Cathy at 10:14 PM
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
We stopped for gas and drinks in St. George.
It was there that Dan told me I don't use enough commas in my writing.
I told him that I don't really care.
I start each post with an imaginary "Dear Diary."
I'm writing all this nonsense to myself.
She doesn't care if I use commas.
Dear Diary, commas are dumb.
Hey, there's a comma!
Love ya, Dan! (another comma!)
* * * * *
I'm a horrible road tripper.
If it were up to me we'd fly everywhere.
It's not up to me.
* * * * *
We spent the night at our halfway point in Primm.
I woke up and collected my birthday snuggles.
I'm 41 now.
* * * * *
I've been watching episodes of FBI Files while I fold laundry lately.
I'm even more paranoid than I was before.
I'm especially worried about my children being kidnapped.
Stopping at gas stations along the way to pee and get drinks has caused me enormous amounts of anxiety.
Danny thinks it's ok for him to just wait outside the bathroom door.
I don't think so.
I told him that people get kidnapped every day.
I told him I need to see him and he needs to see me (or at least be inside the bathroom door waiting patiently by the paper towel dispenser).
I think he got tired of my kidnapping anxiety.
He said, "Who gets kidnapped anymore? Nobody!!"
I think he needs to watch a few episodes of FBI Files with me.
Clearly he is not afraid enough.
* * * * *
There's more to report.
I've been working on this for almost 2 hours so far.
My children are very needy.
Reminders to go pee and brush their teeth.
Help with the DVD.
Cate puked chocolate milk and blueberries all over the toilet.
Some of it went in but most of it on the seat and the floor around the toilet.
Heaven help me.
Posted by Cathy at 11:30 PM
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
one ::: We went on a little getaway this past weekend. I like to lovingly refer to it as Hades but it's real name is St. George, Utah. No offense to the lovely city or the lovely people I spent my time with while there (my sister and her family, my parents and my own little family), but it was not my idea of fun or vacation. Aunt Judy and her clan have a condo dealio there and they invited us all along for a week of fun in the sun. My kids drove down on Monday with them since Dan and I both had to work that week. (Dan's school didn't get out until Wednesday and I'm teaching summer preschool...yes, I should have my head examined.)
I was dreading it but after 4 days away I really missed my kids and worried nonstop about them getting sunburned (even though my mother is perfectly capable of smearing on loads of sunscreen) or drowning (they pretty much lived in the pool from what I heard) or kidnapped (I worry about that every day, not just because they were away from me).
Dan drove us down there on Thursday (4+ hours and the stupid setting sun was in exactly the right spot the entire drive so that my sun visor never ever got it out of my eyes...yes, I'm a dream to take on road trips). The next day was spent doing nothing (except for the swimming and family bonding). And then the next day Dan woke up saying that he had puked all night and he slept THE ENTIRE DAY. I got to go "hiking" with Aunt Judy, Cate and cousins Kris and Raymond. We pulled up to the sand dunes in Snow Canyon State Park (interesting name that's for sure), got out and walked on hot sand so we could sit and dig in the hot sand. I'm baffled by this one but Aunt Judy said it's fun.
Then we drove a little further down the road to let the kids climb on rocks to see pioneer names carved in the stone. I was pretty sure someone would plummet to their death but it didn't happen. Then on down the road to Jenny's Canyon for more rock exploring. Oh, good golly if it wasn't freaking 100 degrees outside it might have been bearable.
Dan woke up Sunday morning feeling somewhat better which is good because he got to drive home with my Dad. I rode in the minivan with my mom and all 5 kids. Oh, what fun times we have.
two ::: I am telling myself that just because I hate summer and all the long hours of daylight that never seem to end, I am not a weirdo or a bad person. Everyone is different. Summer makes me so grumpy. I can't do it. Really. I'm struggling right now. All you crazies who hate the cold and snow and winter, I'm feeling that right now. And that's ok. You be you and I'll be me. Just do your best to leave me alone until about the middle of October because that's when it cools off enough for me to start getting happy-ish. The looooong days of summer remind me of the first month of Danny's life (which was actually November into December) when he cried every day from 5:00-7:00 in the evening and then woke up every hour and a half the rest of the time. No naps, only if I held him. I thought I'd die. The days never ended so a fresh new one could begin and I could feel a renewed power that I could do this new mom thing. It was not a happy time for me and summer reminds me of that. Days that never end. And when they finally do and sweet darkness comes, it's 9:30 and all I can do is go to bed. Blah.
three ::: I am also telling myself that this is not the time in my life to have an awesome garden, although I deeply want to. There are weeds. I can't even give a hoot. I mean really, I planted parsnips and radishes. Those are totally for my mom. I'm not eating that. I'm praying that my watermelon make it this year because that's all I'm looking forward to. Well, that and the zucchini. Those are good. I think when I'm 60 and I have time and the space in my head to care about gardens and weeds, look out. It'll be grand. And also when I move and my garden spot isn't in the hot summer sun in the evening. Blah.
four ::: Cate and I got a birthday pedicure yesterday. Our birthdays are this month, only 2 days apart. I thought it would be fun to start a birthday tradition with her. She was very excited and really wanted hearts on her toes too. It turned out to be a lesson in waiting for her. They were busy and only 2 workers were there. The guy started with me since I'm sure he knew it would take a while to file away all my hideous cracked dead skin. It did. Cate had lots of smiles when it was finally her turn though, mostly because it tickled her so much. I asked her if she wanted to do it again next year for our birthdays and she said no. Too bad. I'm forcing her. She was mostly looking forward to the special flip flops and she did get those so I think it wasn't a total waste.
five ::: I think I might need to spend some time every evening from about 5:00-9:00 in my mom's walk-in closet in her bedroom. No windows so I can hide from the blazing sun. That would be a bit extreme, I realize that but in all honestly the thought has crossed my mind.
six ::: I've been struggling for a while with this dumb blog. I used to enjoy writing stuff and sharing pictures of my cute kids. I think some people actually read along and were slightly interested in my life. The enjoyment is gone. So is my time. Having a job can do that to you. The only chance I have anymore to come here is after kids are in bed. And then I have to decide if I should go exercise (which I never choose) or watch tv because my mind just needs to turn off for a little while before bed. And then I'm too tired and all I really want to do is one (or more) of three things: cry, run away from home or sleep. Those things are not conducive to collecting my thoughts and putting them on the screen. Who even cares anyway? I ask myself. Most of my faithful readers have abandoned me (I say that knowing full well that I'm a big nobody and I'm totally ok with that. Can you even imagine the horror of being an awesome blogging somebody and going to events and blog conferences where you interact and socialize and talk to people? I don't even want to think about it.) So I quit for a while. It's hard to have a desire to be here when I'm not happy and a lot of the time I'm not. It's true.
And then my kind friend brought over a jar of her yummy strawberry jam and a thank you card for driving her son to school all year (which was totally my pleasure and on the way and I was very happy to do it so that Cate didn't have to walk into school alone). And that friend wrote something about how she likes reading my blog because reading about my crazy makes her feel less alone in hers. So I guess I'll keep doing it. This one's for you, Debra.
seven ::: I'm not a very good friend. At this point in my life I feel like I'm giving everything inside me to take care of myself and tend to the constant demands of my family. I've got nothing else for anyone else. I'm hoping that at some point this will all get easier and I'll be a good friend again (I've had times in my life when I had lots of friends, in case you thought I was a horrible person). How it is that I still feel like I'm in survival mode at age almost 41 (holy crap!) with a seven-year-old and an almost six-year-old is beyond me. But it is what it is and I just get to keep on plugging along because I just really love my family.
eight ::: I don't bake much anymore. No time. Plus I think my will power to not eat an entire loaf of chocolate chip banana bread has left me so it's all good. I just feel bad about it sometimes because I want my kids to learn kitchen stuffs. This summer we're going to have cooking school and we're going to give the food away so I don't get fatter than I've already gotten.
nine ::: Cate and Danny took naps Sunday and yesterday around 5 or 6 in the evening for a few hours each. It was disastrous for their bedtimes. I get up at 6:00 for work and not going to bed on time isn't good for me. I fell asleep around 10:30 last night and Cate woke me up at 11:35 because she wanted to sing a song to me. Seriously. I was still awake at 2:00 this morning. And I woke up at 6:30. This is the blog post you get when I've had four-ish hours of sleep. You're welcome.
and a little p.s. just because I can ::: I watched a show on Netflix today called something like The Mortified Series. I don't know exactly but I'm not going to look it up because I'm already up past my bedtime. It's a show where a guy talks to actors and famous people about their past. They look at old pictures and journal entries and it's just really interesting to me. Today's episode was Rick Schroeder. I used to watch Silver Spoons and I'm not ashamed to admit that I thought he was pretty cute (back then he was Ricky). He cried when the guy asked him about his grandma. Then he cried again when he was talking about meeting his wife because he loves her so much. Then he cried talking about the anxiety he feels every day and how much he worries about stuff. Him crying made me cry and I think I like him all over again. We could be friends, bonded by our ability to cry easily and our anxiety. That's why it's good to tell your story I guess. It makes people feel not so alone in their crazy. Right, Debra?
Posted by Cathy at 10:38 PM