It's evil, so that should be it's urban name. "The pill" is just too benign, too innocent. So, I'm off it and things are looking so much brighter. Nothing like a little synthetic hormone f-ing with your system to make you close to crazy. :)
So, it's been too long. Update: Still looking for a house, no keepers just yet. There are tones of beautiful and cheep houses in the even smaller, rural towns surrounding my tiny rural town, but those towns lack our amazing Catholic culture and we have a really, really nice park--well two or three really, and I like our grocer (even if I can't afford to shop there) and A's grandparents are here....
*Side note, I'm not Catholic, but I should be. I'm probably never going to be, but I really like the saints a lot and also the churches are gorgeous and they have lots of candles and stuff. Just plain cool.
No new car yet, but our Subaru seems to be running like a champ; i.e. the transmission hasn't exploded yet! Notice how I name drop. Like to mention we've got a Subaru whenever I can. Also, she's tan. And a wagon. Are you jealous yet?
So, Simon's doing bad, but we're just off a three day (Subaru) stretch. Tomorrow we have a date! Sooooooo excited. :)
Ohhhh, we brewed beer! Caribou Slobber from Northern Brewer. They are awesome.
And I ran once.
So, there. That should bring us up to speed (Subaru). Well, also, one foray into possible day-shift employment, but that ended up being a dud and I'm sort of happy about it because it was at a different hospital and I love my hospital and my boss.
Later, bitches! I'm having "alone time" with my buddy--kid's asleep, dude is showered and we've got some decarbonated Infinity Grand Cru that really needs to make its home my belly. ;)
8.27.2012
8.19.2012
Honestly
Sometimes life's just hard. And I hate to complain, but there isn't enough lamenting and honesty, so I also hate to withhold the truth.
I struggle. With money and time and passions. There never seems to be enough to get ahead. Not time or money. And I feel like a failure as a provider because even though we have enough, it's just enough. And then I think of Africans with nothing and I'm just discontent as a rich American. But as Americans, we are far from rich. And I'd like to buy free-range meat, but a dollar more a pound is too much. And I'd love to get out of this hell-hole of a house--the walls are eating themselves from moisture (and this is after repairing the brick and mortar and completely re-plastering the walls and dehumidifying) and the basement is crumbing and moldy and fills when it rains and it's tiny. I think the size gets to me the most because there isn't enough room to live let alone breathe (again, according to rich American standards). But I'm stressed and tired from working third shift and being a nurse is exhausting mentally (sometimes physically). And I'm an introvert and never get alone time. And I'd love to can and grow a garden and make quilts and knit and embroider, but practically I only get through the basics. And I think if there was enough money to pay off debt (school loans) and save for a house and car and not just make it, I'd feel better about not doing the extracurriculars, but it just seems like nothing good happens. And I need new clothes because apparently after breastfeeding and turning 30 (almost) your hips get bigger and your boobs smaller so I have no pants or bras. But we also need a new (to us) car (our 14 year old Subaru is on her last leg), so I feel remiss buying clothing. And then there is Simon and his pain. And I do nothing for him. I help him in no real way. He suffers and there is nothing I can do to lesson his physical pain. And I know that the Lord loves us, but I feel He doesn't care about our daily life. And I know it isn't true, but I'd like Him to show me that. And I know it's an arrogant child that asks for a sign, but I think that's what I'm doing. I pray, but I don't ask Him for good things because I'm afraid. Afraid of nothing good ever happening and what that means. Not that God isn't God, but that He doesn't help us in this life. And He has helped me. He's given me Simon who is an amazing husband and rescuer. I would be dead if he hadn't come along. And He's given me peace and joy in life. And I don't believe in prosperity teaching--it's a lie and damaging. But this is my heart.
And this song, "Oh, God," is a really good comfort:
http://marshill.com/music/albums/already-not-yet
I struggle. With money and time and passions. There never seems to be enough to get ahead. Not time or money. And I feel like a failure as a provider because even though we have enough, it's just enough. And then I think of Africans with nothing and I'm just discontent as a rich American. But as Americans, we are far from rich. And I'd like to buy free-range meat, but a dollar more a pound is too much. And I'd love to get out of this hell-hole of a house--the walls are eating themselves from moisture (and this is after repairing the brick and mortar and completely re-plastering the walls and dehumidifying) and the basement is crumbing and moldy and fills when it rains and it's tiny. I think the size gets to me the most because there isn't enough room to live let alone breathe (again, according to rich American standards). But I'm stressed and tired from working third shift and being a nurse is exhausting mentally (sometimes physically). And I'm an introvert and never get alone time. And I'd love to can and grow a garden and make quilts and knit and embroider, but practically I only get through the basics. And I think if there was enough money to pay off debt (school loans) and save for a house and car and not just make it, I'd feel better about not doing the extracurriculars, but it just seems like nothing good happens. And I need new clothes because apparently after breastfeeding and turning 30 (almost) your hips get bigger and your boobs smaller so I have no pants or bras. But we also need a new (to us) car (our 14 year old Subaru is on her last leg), so I feel remiss buying clothing. And then there is Simon and his pain. And I do nothing for him. I help him in no real way. He suffers and there is nothing I can do to lesson his physical pain. And I know that the Lord loves us, but I feel He doesn't care about our daily life. And I know it isn't true, but I'd like Him to show me that. And I know it's an arrogant child that asks for a sign, but I think that's what I'm doing. I pray, but I don't ask Him for good things because I'm afraid. Afraid of nothing good ever happening and what that means. Not that God isn't God, but that He doesn't help us in this life. And He has helped me. He's given me Simon who is an amazing husband and rescuer. I would be dead if he hadn't come along. And He's given me peace and joy in life. And I don't believe in prosperity teaching--it's a lie and damaging. But this is my heart.
And this song, "Oh, God," is a really good comfort:
http://marshill.com/music/albums/already-not-yet
8.16.2012
8.10.2012
Mold Rights
So, we've got ourselves a weeeeeeee bit of black mold in the basement (and in the coat closet and behind the bookshelves and in the bathroom). I was sufficiently freaked out because everyone knows black mold comes alive at night and eats your babies. However, I did a little research, and I think we're going to be okay. No abductions imminent.
To spite the mold, we are looking for a new house. Actually, just pretty sure 630 square feet and no garage, a wet basement, and VERY limited storage will drive a person to distraction in a little under 1 month.
We've been living here for a total of 6 years now. (I say total, and there's a long story in that, all for another day.)
So, the look is on. No keepers yet, but I've got my hopes up and eyes peeled. We've gone through 7 houses, none too pretty. One was in nice shape, had a nice garage and basement and attic, but the main floor was, well, depressing as hell--tiny and claustrophobic. As sort of a main floor dweller, I wasn't impressed.
We're also currently looking for a car. A nice Honda Civic or Accord or the like preferably. I want good gas mileage and no breakdowns. Our little (meaning huge) Subaru Legacy wagon has served us dutifully--the thing's been a trouper. But last week, she started flashing "oil at temp" and was apparently trying to signal us to say that her transmission's on the fritz. After the weekend in the shop, the mechanic (or rather the coordinator) calls (good luck talking to a mechanic) and says, "We can't get the light to turn on, so we don't know what's wrong." "Whatdya they think she's just gonna open up to anybody?! She doesn't even know you guys." On the up side, the light's off and she's running. Not so great = the transmission could explode at any second (we only know it's the transmission because my husband's a whiz with cars, a whiz I tell ya!). And another thing, whose genius idea was it to make it impossible to fix a car without the computer saying what's wrong!?! Engineers! :/
P.S. I didn't just leave all the mold everywhere. I left it in the basement (hey, it's got to be free to incubate somewhere--mold rights), but the rest has been sufficiently bleached, vinegared, tea tree oiled, and scrubbed. Just so you know. I'm not a complete slacker.
To spite the mold, we are looking for a new house. Actually, just pretty sure 630 square feet and no garage, a wet basement, and VERY limited storage will drive a person to distraction in a little under 1 month.
We've been living here for a total of 6 years now. (I say total, and there's a long story in that, all for another day.)
So, the look is on. No keepers yet, but I've got my hopes up and eyes peeled. We've gone through 7 houses, none too pretty. One was in nice shape, had a nice garage and basement and attic, but the main floor was, well, depressing as hell--tiny and claustrophobic. As sort of a main floor dweller, I wasn't impressed.
We're also currently looking for a car. A nice Honda Civic or Accord or the like preferably. I want good gas mileage and no breakdowns. Our little (meaning huge) Subaru Legacy wagon has served us dutifully--the thing's been a trouper. But last week, she started flashing "oil at temp" and was apparently trying to signal us to say that her transmission's on the fritz. After the weekend in the shop, the mechanic (or rather the coordinator) calls (good luck talking to a mechanic) and says, "We can't get the light to turn on, so we don't know what's wrong." "Whatdya they think she's just gonna open up to anybody?! She doesn't even know you guys." On the up side, the light's off and she's running. Not so great = the transmission could explode at any second (we only know it's the transmission because my husband's a whiz with cars, a whiz I tell ya!). And another thing, whose genius idea was it to make it impossible to fix a car without the computer saying what's wrong!?! Engineers! :/
P.S. I didn't just leave all the mold everywhere. I left it in the basement (hey, it's got to be free to incubate somewhere--mold rights), but the rest has been sufficiently bleached, vinegared, tea tree oiled, and scrubbed. Just so you know. I'm not a complete slacker.
8.09.2012
My Kid is a Genius
Right. So, not trying to make you feel bad about yourself, but it's true, my kid's is a genius. Today she picked up the letter "T" and said tee. Then later, a "G" and said gee. The same with "C" and "D." And I say to Simon, "And it's not like those letters even rhyme!" And he's like, "Yeah, not at all." all sarcastic like. And I think sometimes I don't have a brain. But, anyway, she said them differently. I know she did. And it's all due to Sesame Street! Because I don't teach her a damn thing. Well, not true, but not book smart stuff. I just teach her how to be crazy and hormonal like a good woman should be. Baaaaaaaaaaaa.
So, on an entirely different note, I'm thinking of getting the Essure. Well, more than thinking, actually, I am. Not that the Mr. and I wouldn't want more kids, we'd both like 2 or 3 more really. But Simon's not doing well and the degenerative nature of SFN doesn't really make it look like things will be taking an up-swing for him. There is also the unknown genetic factor of SFN. Is it right to have a kid because you want one with the knowledge that they may be very, very sick? Is it better to have lived and lost, than to have never lived at all? I wouldn't judge anyone who chose differently, but it's a factor in my decision. It isn't in Simon's ironically. But anyway, Essure it is.
In the mean time, they put me on the pill (which I'm against for a million different reasons--psychoses being a big one, the possibility of a fertilized egg not being able to implant in my thinned uterus being paramount). But they said I must so they can know my cycle is regular. Again, baaaaaaaaaaaa.
So, I've accepted that we're a family of three. And I'm happy to be so, but honestly, I'm also so sad. No siblings for the kiddo, no more little cuddle buddies for me. No sons. But I have my Simon and my amazingly beautiful and bright and crazy little girl. I can't say I'm not totally blessed. Lots of negatives there, ending in a positive--just like life.
Up next: Houses and Cars and Black Mold
So, on an entirely different note, I'm thinking of getting the Essure. Well, more than thinking, actually, I am. Not that the Mr. and I wouldn't want more kids, we'd both like 2 or 3 more really. But Simon's not doing well and the degenerative nature of SFN doesn't really make it look like things will be taking an up-swing for him. There is also the unknown genetic factor of SFN. Is it right to have a kid because you want one with the knowledge that they may be very, very sick? Is it better to have lived and lost, than to have never lived at all? I wouldn't judge anyone who chose differently, but it's a factor in my decision. It isn't in Simon's ironically. But anyway, Essure it is.
In the mean time, they put me on the pill (which I'm against for a million different reasons--psychoses being a big one, the possibility of a fertilized egg not being able to implant in my thinned uterus being paramount). But they said I must so they can know my cycle is regular. Again, baaaaaaaaaaaa.
So, I've accepted that we're a family of three. And I'm happy to be so, but honestly, I'm also so sad. No siblings for the kiddo, no more little cuddle buddies for me. No sons. But I have my Simon and my amazingly beautiful and bright and crazy little girl. I can't say I'm not totally blessed. Lots of negatives there, ending in a positive--just like life.
Up next: Houses and Cars and Black Mold
8.06.2012
Moron Awakening
Dude, last posting was verbose! I'll try to tone it down a bit this time.
So, I had an awakening last Saturday. I'm at this party, right, and I'm mingling with the Regs, and this 2-year-old comes up to me and says, "Hi, I'm Elaine, I'm two, I'm gonna sing you a song. Twinkle, twinkle, little star...." And I'm like, "Whoa, who let this baby in here?!"
JK. It was a church party.
Anyway, for reals, I'm like, "Whoa, this kid is one month older than my kid. My kid doesn't talk, but holy-hell, her brain is not where I thought it was." Her comprehension and intelligence is like quadrupled what I thought it was. I mean, when someone just stares at you and blinks her little eye-lids when you talk to her, you think 1 of 2 things: 1) "Awwwww, she's not understanding me." or 2) "I must be the biggest moron in the world." I had been leaning toward 1, now I pick 2.
P.S. I promise to start adding pictures soon! This post would be soooooooooo much better if you got to see the little "you're an idiot" face.
So, I had an awakening last Saturday. I'm at this party, right, and I'm mingling with the Regs, and this 2-year-old comes up to me and says, "Hi, I'm Elaine, I'm two, I'm gonna sing you a song. Twinkle, twinkle, little star...." And I'm like, "Whoa, who let this baby in here?!"
JK. It was a church party.
Anyway, for reals, I'm like, "Whoa, this kid is one month older than my kid. My kid doesn't talk, but holy-hell, her brain is not where I thought it was." Her comprehension and intelligence is like quadrupled what I thought it was. I mean, when someone just stares at you and blinks her little eye-lids when you talk to her, you think 1 of 2 things: 1) "Awwwww, she's not understanding me." or 2) "I must be the biggest moron in the world." I had been leaning toward 1, now I pick 2.
P.S. I promise to start adding pictures soon! This post would be soooooooooo much better if you got to see the little "you're an idiot" face.
8.04.2012
I Lied
I lied. I'm not going to do "introductions." How's about you just get to know us through reading this blog.
Ah ha! See, now I've got you. Who doesn't want to know me and my little fam?!
So, phew! Rough start today. Well, second start. I worked last night, so technically I started my day at work. And that was alright. But then I came home from work and slept and got up and that's when things got screwy.
I was sooooooooooooooooooooo tired this morning, unusually tired. But I had to eat some leftover grilled chicken (which was amazing--I will share the recipe sometime) because I was thinking about it all night at work and drink some orange juice because it sounded good (hmmmmm, actually sounds really good right now too, damn! I hope I'm not preggo). Anyway, I dozed off nursing the babe (yep, I nurse my almost 2 year old) and consequently got to bed later than desired. So far, not so bad.
The little one usually comes in to nap with me around noon and did today as per usual, but today she was wired and ended up keeping me awake for a half hour before climbing out of bed. She did pull the door closed on her way out, so that was nice. 1:30 she was back and fell half-asleep and was the wiggliest worm I've ever met! I kept waiting for her to fall full-asleep, so I could sneak out and pee and take some ibuprofen--killer lack of sleep headache--but she never did. Finally, I just take the plunge and tell her we have to get up.
Yikes. That didn't go over well. So now I'm mad. Too tired to deal with wining and clinging (which is excessive when my Paczek is tired). And the best way I can think of to keep from screaming like a banshee and throwing everything in the house away (sort of my coping mechanism)--pick on my buddy. Hey, yeah, that's a good idea. Add insult to injury and blame the husband. After all, he did bring the kid in to nap, twice today. Grrrrrrrrr.
So, after assuring him he ruined my life and making him promise to never bring her in to nap, ever again, after 1P (because that's obviously the problem here), I feel guilty. Turns out he had a terrible night, didn't sleep at all from pain, and was feeling desperate for a break. And to be perfectly honest, the kid is a great napper. Every day about 12:30/1 she's out for the count. Who would think she wouldn't nap?
Well, after apologies, I think, hmmmm, TV! TV is just what my kid needs (we all need). So I go to put a Peep in, and am met with intensified distress cries. Really?! My child has never refused TV, ever. She's a total junkie. I tell her all the time it's going to rot her brain, but she doesn't even care. Turns out she doesn't want to watch Peep, but settles for Classical Baby which is promptly shut off because someone can't listen and pushes every button on the dvd player/tv/receiver. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggg.
Somehow the boundary setting turns my kid happy and all of a sudden we're all sitting together on the couch and she's happy to play with her purse and bracelets and I'm happy to lie there sipping my delicious black gold (Starbucks Sumatra). And I haven't hurt Simon's feelings too badly (even though I also shimmied in a scold for not fixing my nose retainer and another for being such a softie with the kid). And then my delicate little princess thinks it'd be fun to climb onto the top of the couch and jump on me. Which may well have been fun, but also spilled my coffee. :(
Oh, well. All's well that ends well. Simon wouldn't agree, but I've got no short or long term memory at all, so I'm generally pretty happy. Anyway...
Wadsworth: "And to make a long story short."
Everyone: "TOO LATE!"
I ended up taking the kid outside (she was in heaven) (me too to be honest), Simon got a tiny break, and then I headed into work.
See, fascinating, right? ;)
Ah ha! See, now I've got you. Who doesn't want to know me and my little fam?!
So, phew! Rough start today. Well, second start. I worked last night, so technically I started my day at work. And that was alright. But then I came home from work and slept and got up and that's when things got screwy.
I was sooooooooooooooooooooo tired this morning, unusually tired. But I had to eat some leftover grilled chicken (which was amazing--I will share the recipe sometime) because I was thinking about it all night at work and drink some orange juice because it sounded good (hmmmmm, actually sounds really good right now too, damn! I hope I'm not preggo). Anyway, I dozed off nursing the babe (yep, I nurse my almost 2 year old) and consequently got to bed later than desired. So far, not so bad.
The little one usually comes in to nap with me around noon and did today as per usual, but today she was wired and ended up keeping me awake for a half hour before climbing out of bed. She did pull the door closed on her way out, so that was nice. 1:30 she was back and fell half-asleep and was the wiggliest worm I've ever met! I kept waiting for her to fall full-asleep, so I could sneak out and pee and take some ibuprofen--killer lack of sleep headache--but she never did. Finally, I just take the plunge and tell her we have to get up.
Yikes. That didn't go over well. So now I'm mad. Too tired to deal with wining and clinging (which is excessive when my Paczek is tired). And the best way I can think of to keep from screaming like a banshee and throwing everything in the house away (sort of my coping mechanism)--pick on my buddy. Hey, yeah, that's a good idea. Add insult to injury and blame the husband. After all, he did bring the kid in to nap, twice today. Grrrrrrrrr.
So, after assuring him he ruined my life and making him promise to never bring her in to nap, ever again, after 1P (because that's obviously the problem here), I feel guilty. Turns out he had a terrible night, didn't sleep at all from pain, and was feeling desperate for a break. And to be perfectly honest, the kid is a great napper. Every day about 12:30/1 she's out for the count. Who would think she wouldn't nap?
Well, after apologies, I think, hmmmm, TV! TV is just what my kid needs (we all need). So I go to put a Peep in, and am met with intensified distress cries. Really?! My child has never refused TV, ever. She's a total junkie. I tell her all the time it's going to rot her brain, but she doesn't even care. Turns out she doesn't want to watch Peep, but settles for Classical Baby which is promptly shut off because someone can't listen and pushes every button on the dvd player/tv/receiver. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggg.
Somehow the boundary setting turns my kid happy and all of a sudden we're all sitting together on the couch and she's happy to play with her purse and bracelets and I'm happy to lie there sipping my delicious black gold (Starbucks Sumatra). And I haven't hurt Simon's feelings too badly (even though I also shimmied in a scold for not fixing my nose retainer and another for being such a softie with the kid). And then my delicate little princess thinks it'd be fun to climb onto the top of the couch and jump on me. Which may well have been fun, but also spilled my coffee. :(
Oh, well. All's well that ends well. Simon wouldn't agree, but I've got no short or long term memory at all, so I'm generally pretty happy. Anyway...
Wadsworth: "And to make a long story short."
Everyone: "TOO LATE!"
I ended up taking the kid outside (she was in heaven) (me too to be honest), Simon got a tiny break, and then I headed into work.
See, fascinating, right? ;)
7.25.2012
Focus
So far this blog has had quite a shotgun approach, but I've got bigger dreams for it. I admit, I've been using it in a very cathartic/journal-like way. I clear my head with writing and attune my thoughts (which otherwise stay a hot mess). Its original function was...honestly, I have no idea, it was 2006, who can remember that long ago (looks like my second post points to boredom). Also, I kind of kept myself pressure-free with the time commitment I gave it (no posts for 4 years!). I always had in the back of my mind that this would be a blog about being a good wife. Specifically how to help your hubby when he's got a progressively debilitating, chronic illness. I'd like to continue in that vein, but now we've got the kid, our little Paczek. So, I'm thinking more living as a family with chronic illness. It is truly amazing how invasive the tendrils of illness can be in a life and a family's life. I know Mr. Simon tires of always being the reason behind our decisions and plans, but I don't mind so much. He is my Romeo and I can't say that I mind one bit "missing out" on certain experiences or events to be with my boy.
To that end, my next posts will be introductions to the fam. From there, we shall see.
To that end, my next posts will be introductions to the fam. From there, we shall see.
7.23.2012
Hello, 60 Minute Neighbors
I am excited for tonight. 60 minute IPA, guacamole, babies, walk, laundry (Excited for laundry? Yes, somehow I am.). Mostly excited, happy to be spending time with my family. I was thinking the other day. What's the point? What's all this rushing around and working and thinking and busy-making for? Who cares? Why do it? What's the point? And not the point of the work so much as the Point. And I think fellowship is all there is. Relationship. Why go to work and make money and keep yard and home nice and improve health? There is stewardship. And working hard and simply is Biblical. And making merry while you work. Joy in the process. And that's the redeemed side of work I think. Because work is our curse, and takes us away from the ones we love and, at times, what our hearts most want. But time with family and friendily--that's wholly meaningful. There is fulfillment in a completed task. The fulfillment of obedience and perseverance. But at the end of the day you're left with still more tasks to complete. And I think the fulfilling part, if it isn't pride, is the joy of pleasing God. Obeying him, pleasing him.
I want to be a doer only. Not because I'm oh-so-obedient, but because I shy away from relationships, especially deep ones. They scare me. But also, I think they are essential. I'm ok with just my two bubbies, but throw in a few more and I start to wriggle. But then you have to consider why we're still here. If the point is relationship, and God loves us, but Paradise has not yet been restored; we'd better get busy. I'd better get busy. And open up my heart. See, maybe the work isn't all bad. Maybe the work all leads to relationship. Explains why sometimes I don't want to "do" anything or get involved (even though I'm a get-up and-go-type). Once you do something, you open the door for relationship, then things get sticky. Ug. That's a wholly different can of "past" worms.
Oh, well. Onward and upward, right? No time for being prissy and keeping your hands clean.
So grab your bubbies and a brewski and get yourself to work self!
I want to be a doer only. Not because I'm oh-so-obedient, but because I shy away from relationships, especially deep ones. They scare me. But also, I think they are essential. I'm ok with just my two bubbies, but throw in a few more and I start to wriggle. But then you have to consider why we're still here. If the point is relationship, and God loves us, but Paradise has not yet been restored; we'd better get busy. I'd better get busy. And open up my heart. See, maybe the work isn't all bad. Maybe the work all leads to relationship. Explains why sometimes I don't want to "do" anything or get involved (even though I'm a get-up and-go-type). Once you do something, you open the door for relationship, then things get sticky. Ug. That's a wholly different can of "past" worms.
Oh, well. Onward and upward, right? No time for being prissy and keeping your hands clean.
So grab your bubbies and a brewski and get yourself to work self!
7.20.2012
Ethnic Slur
Hello. So, I've decided the Paleo is stupid and expensive. I'm still into the idea of eating more meat. Just not into the idea of eliminating entire, delicious food groups. Just doesn't make sense. Even if I'd look like a Cheetah. Rather be a Polack. I can say that. I am one.
So, not sure how the babe is doing. Mr. Simon babe that is. I've worked the last two nights and that makes for little time for interaction. When I get up, he's shot and needing a break from little Babe, and I try to get a little quality time in with her between baths and laundry and cooking and dishes, which means quick pecks and communication grunts between him and me. I know he's not the worst, but I can tell he's in the red.
I was thinking, I really should get a blog emphasis. Instead of just meandering along. Maybe that is my emphasis. But I'm not aimless, just without blog focus.
I've been so delighted by my baby lately. She's such a little joy. Really, truely, wholly such a blessing. A fulfilling gift. I never thought I'd have a little cuke in my care, and let me tell you, I'm so happy to have. I think I was in a constant state of elation for like her entire first year (and of terror of SAD), then I got really tired. And discouraged. And disheartened from life. And I enjoyed her less and that is a shame. But the Boy and I have done a lot of talking and have come to some good conclusions about our life and our goals and hopes and dreams and I've got a lot of peace and a lot of joy back. And calm. And she brings us a lot of joy.
In a superficial twist, the Kid will be 2 soon and I've been trying to decide what to get her for her birthday. I want it to be magnificant. Not just a good birthday, epic. I want to buy her a million toys and some dresses (she loves dresses) and German Muzzy. Mr. Simon says we shouldn't because she'll never remember (and it's not in the budget). And he's right, she won't and it's not. But I still want it to be an epic birthday. I want her to feel celebrated. And so does he. It's amazing really how much of our actions are dictated by the unhealthy or unpleasant parts of our past. I felt unknown and uncared for on my birthday. My reaction is to buy a bunch of stuff and call that caring, but that's not the heart of it. Giving a gift that someone truely will love, big or small. Being present, with that person, and actually loving them. That's amazing. Caring enough to put time and thought into making the day special for them, in ways that they will feel love and care and know that that they are known. That is what is important. Not stuff. But stuff is fun too. Though it matters less than the intent. And the perfect present given without love feels like hate. Still, the Kid is in serious need of some toys. She's got mostly baby stuff! But I will try temper my reactive impulse to buy the whole store in an attempt to fully love my Kid. Why can't she have real love and affection and great toys too? Baaah. God help me. I come from a long line of Polish excess.
So, not sure how the babe is doing. Mr. Simon babe that is. I've worked the last two nights and that makes for little time for interaction. When I get up, he's shot and needing a break from little Babe, and I try to get a little quality time in with her between baths and laundry and cooking and dishes, which means quick pecks and communication grunts between him and me. I know he's not the worst, but I can tell he's in the red.
I was thinking, I really should get a blog emphasis. Instead of just meandering along. Maybe that is my emphasis. But I'm not aimless, just without blog focus.
I've been so delighted by my baby lately. She's such a little joy. Really, truely, wholly such a blessing. A fulfilling gift. I never thought I'd have a little cuke in my care, and let me tell you, I'm so happy to have. I think I was in a constant state of elation for like her entire first year (and of terror of SAD), then I got really tired. And discouraged. And disheartened from life. And I enjoyed her less and that is a shame. But the Boy and I have done a lot of talking and have come to some good conclusions about our life and our goals and hopes and dreams and I've got a lot of peace and a lot of joy back. And calm. And she brings us a lot of joy.
In a superficial twist, the Kid will be 2 soon and I've been trying to decide what to get her for her birthday. I want it to be magnificant. Not just a good birthday, epic. I want to buy her a million toys and some dresses (she loves dresses) and German Muzzy. Mr. Simon says we shouldn't because she'll never remember (and it's not in the budget). And he's right, she won't and it's not. But I still want it to be an epic birthday. I want her to feel celebrated. And so does he. It's amazing really how much of our actions are dictated by the unhealthy or unpleasant parts of our past. I felt unknown and uncared for on my birthday. My reaction is to buy a bunch of stuff and call that caring, but that's not the heart of it. Giving a gift that someone truely will love, big or small. Being present, with that person, and actually loving them. That's amazing. Caring enough to put time and thought into making the day special for them, in ways that they will feel love and care and know that that they are known. That is what is important. Not stuff. But stuff is fun too. Though it matters less than the intent. And the perfect present given without love feels like hate. Still, the Kid is in serious need of some toys. She's got mostly baby stuff! But I will try temper my reactive impulse to buy the whole store in an attempt to fully love my Kid. Why can't she have real love and affection and great toys too? Baaah. God help me. I come from a long line of Polish excess.
7.16.2012
Brownies
Mmmmmm, these are good. A 10 really. Moist but not overly wet. Nice crackly top. Made with cocoa, so they're cheap, but all the intense goodness and complexity of a brownie made with chocolate. I'll post pictures later. A name too. Oh, and they're dairy-free!
The Mort Noire (I hope that doesn't sound like a package of Asian noodles, I don't speak French)
4 large eggs
1 cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup melted coconut oil
1 1/4 cup cocoa
2 teaspoons vanilla
1/2 teaspoon course sea salt
1/2 cup white flour
Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Grease an 8 inch square glass baking dish with coconut oil.
Beat eggs until light yellow and fluffy. Add both sugars. Mix. Add remaining ingredients except flour. Mix. Add flour and mix.
Pour into prepped pan and bake for approximately 45 minutes. Toothpick test. You want moist crumbs clinging. Not full on batter, not clean. Moist crumbs.
Cool on wire wrack. Eat. Best the next day.
The Mort Noire (I hope that doesn't sound like a package of Asian noodles, I don't speak French)
4 large eggs
1 cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup melted coconut oil
1 1/4 cup cocoa
2 teaspoons vanilla
1/2 teaspoon course sea salt
1/2 cup white flour
Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Grease an 8 inch square glass baking dish with coconut oil.
Beat eggs until light yellow and fluffy. Add both sugars. Mix. Add remaining ingredients except flour. Mix. Add flour and mix.
Pour into prepped pan and bake for approximately 45 minutes. Toothpick test. You want moist crumbs clinging. Not full on batter, not clean. Moist crumbs.
Cool on wire wrack. Eat. Best the next day.
Lord Raise Me Up
"The earth is the Lord's
and the fullness
thereof,
the world and those who dwell
therein,"
Psalm 24:1 ESV
"The earth and everything on it,
including its people,
belong to the Lord.
The world and its people
belong to him."
Psalm 24:1 CEV
I feel compelled to confess and worship the one who made me. I'm terrified of being like the crazy Christians who pronounce their own truths and create their own realities of the Lord and for their lives. But God is the Lord, and he is terrible and wonderful. And I am his. And even though "my heart is like wax; melted within my breast," and I feel bent low with sorrow, the Lord is my God and he will one day will raise us up from the ground.
and the fullness
thereof,
the world and those who dwell
therein,"
Psalm 24:1 ESV
"The earth and everything on it,
including its people,
belong to the Lord.
The world and its people
belong to him."
Psalm 24:1 CEV
I feel compelled to confess and worship the one who made me. I'm terrified of being like the crazy Christians who pronounce their own truths and create their own realities of the Lord and for their lives. But God is the Lord, and he is terrible and wonderful. And I am his. And even though "my heart is like wax; melted within my breast," and I feel bent low with sorrow, the Lord is my God and he will one day will raise us up from the ground.
7.15.2012
Uh, Paleo?
I'm tired. I feel like I don't give the kiddo the life she deserves. Not enough play time or learning time. I just muddle through. I'd love to take her to parks more and swimming, and do little learning lessons. I love to take her outside and kick the ball. She's such a spirited little thing.
On a completely different note. I've been reading about the Paleo Diet. Sounds great. And delicious. Except I will have to have dark chocolate and beer. The rest I'm pretty fine with. Oh, and the occasional sourdough bread. I have to admit, I haven't read the science behind the diet, just that it's the idea that it's better to eat like cavemen. Which, of course, I don't believe existed. Naked Adam and Eve, yes. Cavemen, not so much. However, the idea of lots of meats and veggies and some fruits and nuts sets well in my mind. I'm not so snobby or restrictive to say no to some enlightenment though. Coffee, chocolate, tea, beer, alcohol. What's the difference between butchering and cooking meat with seasonings and fat or growing and fermenting and/or roasting seeds/pods/beans/leaves? Also, this is a no grain thing. I believe the idea is that agriculture is not good. I understand slightly (crazy corn, wheat, soy production ain't so cool). But vegetables and fruits are agricultural crops. Some grains grow wild. The idea that grains are difficult to digest makes some sense to me due to my pathetic digestive system. Rings true. But I have different ideas for the cause of that--The Fall, entropy, etc. Not so much monkey ancestry and that agriculture is evil. Actually, the more I think of it, this Paleo Diet makes no sense at all. I think I just like the idea of excessive amounts of meat and fat. Mr. Simon would definitely like it. I think I'll kind of do it. Lots of meat. Plus vegetables. And chocolate, coffee, beer, and other fermentables. I think what really caught me was the more lean mass/greater energy/better digestion schtick.
Boy update: Still bad. Have some help with the kiddo in the form of a Saintly G-Ma. Thinking of sending her to her Auntie's too. Oh how I hate the idea of sending her away. Silly, I know. It's to relatives who love her for hours in days not boarding school or something. Still hard. But this is supposed to be a boy update. Went for a massage. Got appointment scheduled with SFN specialist (finally!) (it's taken 9 months and we won't go until November--she's apparently very good). Wondering if alcohol is making him worse, but our midnight brewskies keep him going too.... What to do. Sleep has been a great help. He's in need of a sign or wonder. Starting to see God as good because we know in our heads that he is, but not one to intervene or help in this life. Hope is dwindling, none left for this life. Not sure how to help.
Do you love how I speak in sentence fragments? It's like a telegram.
So, here's the game plan for this week/month/whatever. Get The Kid to the sitter (Aunt), swim lessons (for The Kid), more massages and sleep for Mr. Simon, more meat for me. :) I think I'm going to start putting some recipes on here too. Maybe starting with my Deep Magic Brownies. They're pretty good. Tune in next week. But if this is going to turn into a food blog, I need a camera. Hmmmmmmm, what a devilishly good scheme to get my camera...
On a completely different note. I've been reading about the Paleo Diet. Sounds great. And delicious. Except I will have to have dark chocolate and beer. The rest I'm pretty fine with. Oh, and the occasional sourdough bread. I have to admit, I haven't read the science behind the diet, just that it's the idea that it's better to eat like cavemen. Which, of course, I don't believe existed. Naked Adam and Eve, yes. Cavemen, not so much. However, the idea of lots of meats and veggies and some fruits and nuts sets well in my mind. I'm not so snobby or restrictive to say no to some enlightenment though. Coffee, chocolate, tea, beer, alcohol. What's the difference between butchering and cooking meat with seasonings and fat or growing and fermenting and/or roasting seeds/pods/beans/leaves? Also, this is a no grain thing. I believe the idea is that agriculture is not good. I understand slightly (crazy corn, wheat, soy production ain't so cool). But vegetables and fruits are agricultural crops. Some grains grow wild. The idea that grains are difficult to digest makes some sense to me due to my pathetic digestive system. Rings true. But I have different ideas for the cause of that--The Fall, entropy, etc. Not so much monkey ancestry and that agriculture is evil. Actually, the more I think of it, this Paleo Diet makes no sense at all. I think I just like the idea of excessive amounts of meat and fat. Mr. Simon would definitely like it. I think I'll kind of do it. Lots of meat. Plus vegetables. And chocolate, coffee, beer, and other fermentables. I think what really caught me was the more lean mass/greater energy/better digestion schtick.
Boy update: Still bad. Have some help with the kiddo in the form of a Saintly G-Ma. Thinking of sending her to her Auntie's too. Oh how I hate the idea of sending her away. Silly, I know. It's to relatives who love her for hours in days not boarding school or something. Still hard. But this is supposed to be a boy update. Went for a massage. Got appointment scheduled with SFN specialist (finally!) (it's taken 9 months and we won't go until November--she's apparently very good). Wondering if alcohol is making him worse, but our midnight brewskies keep him going too.... What to do. Sleep has been a great help. He's in need of a sign or wonder. Starting to see God as good because we know in our heads that he is, but not one to intervene or help in this life. Hope is dwindling, none left for this life. Not sure how to help.
Do you love how I speak in sentence fragments? It's like a telegram.
So, here's the game plan for this week/month/whatever. Get The Kid to the sitter (Aunt), swim lessons (for The Kid), more massages and sleep for Mr. Simon, more meat for me. :) I think I'm going to start putting some recipes on here too. Maybe starting with my Deep Magic Brownies. They're pretty good. Tune in next week. But if this is going to turn into a food blog, I need a camera. Hmmmmmmm, what a devilishly good scheme to get my camera...
6.08.2012
What to Do
So, my boy's doing bad. What to do. He needs a break. Something's gotta give, right? What to do.
So, I'm thinking, babysitter one day a week. Massages at least twice a month. Les Paul. Marshell. Music room. Reading chair and "end tablet." Curtains and nice afternoon light. Two hours of peace once a week. Why is there no time for rest? Always just hury, hury; busy busy. He needs more rest.
Maybe it's me. I'm a little stressy. Too restless, too ancy, too bored. (Huh, and I wonder why my kid's a kinetic wonder.) Hmmmmm. Yeah. And everybody knows it's the ladies who set the tone. It's like a dog whistle and we're all dogs. Maybe. Maybe not so bad. But I've been a little edgy and nervous since the babe showed up...she's a doll, but I think I may have an unwarrented, irrational fear of sudden death. Not sudden infant death, sudden anytime death. SAD.
So, the scoop. The game plan. The low down. More R&R. More Bill Withers. More cigars. More Dogfish Head. More camamile, chocolate, adult fun. And presentness. That's the clinker. How to be here. With my boy. With my girl. And at peace.
So, I'm thinking, babysitter one day a week. Massages at least twice a month. Les Paul. Marshell. Music room. Reading chair and "end tablet." Curtains and nice afternoon light. Two hours of peace once a week. Why is there no time for rest? Always just hury, hury; busy busy. He needs more rest.
Maybe it's me. I'm a little stressy. Too restless, too ancy, too bored. (Huh, and I wonder why my kid's a kinetic wonder.) Hmmmmm. Yeah. And everybody knows it's the ladies who set the tone. It's like a dog whistle and we're all dogs. Maybe. Maybe not so bad. But I've been a little edgy and nervous since the babe showed up...she's a doll, but I think I may have an unwarrented, irrational fear of sudden death. Not sudden infant death, sudden anytime death. SAD.
So, the scoop. The game plan. The low down. More R&R. More Bill Withers. More cigars. More Dogfish Head. More camamile, chocolate, adult fun. And presentness. That's the clinker. How to be here. With my boy. With my girl. And at peace.
11.21.2011
Photo Book
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8.20.2011
Good Morning
Hello. So, I'm not good with continuity here. What was I talking about last time, cleaning or something? We're still organizing/cleaning. Things are actually looking better. I like it. I've been bummed lately though. I don't know if it's 3rd shift or feeling less-than-stellar @ my job or being in a continual state of half-mindedness or being sort of bored or feeling like I can't seem to get anything done or realizing we might not be able to afford a good chunk of land or that I can't keep up with the Janes. Most of those things are because of 3rd shift though really. So, we'll blame it on the nighties. And Baby was just starting to get easy when, bam!, teeth. Now she doesn't sleep. So when I am actually home at night, I'm not sleeping then either. Boooooooooooooooo. :( I have all these dreams of sewing cute little dresses and making dolls and canning food and baking and spending time outside, but reality is I can't seem to get caught up on laundry and basic cleaning. Also, I want to brew beer. Mr. Simon does, but I want to with him. I do seem to make it outside on a fairly regular basis--that's good. That keeps my spirits up. I like nature (except fruit flies). I think I'm just tired. Here, go listen to this:
http://youtu.be/4IKddfxkDWk
That is a good song. A good song for a tired Mama. I love music. Music makes my soul rest.
http://youtu.be/4IKddfxkDWk
That is a good song. A good song for a tired Mama. I love music. Music makes my soul rest.
7.28.2011
Organizing Schmorganizing
So, I'm trying to clean up my act. By which I mean my house. Boy, is that a job. Actually, organizing the house isn't so much a job as actually getting to it. That's the hard part. That's the toughie. What with working and baby A glued to my hip (or boob) (yes, my 11 month old is still glued to my boob--so sue me) and laundry and dishes and five minutes for my hubby, I just don't ever seem to get to it. :( You will be very happy to note, however, that I just took a huge box of crapola to the Goodwill on Monday. That was awesome. I also cleaned/disinfected the sinks (kitchen and bath), tub, and toilet which isn't really organizing, but still felt great. I just really hate to clean when I could be spending time with my family. It just seems like the most rediculous waste of time. I mean, doesn't it? Cleaning? When baby and man are in need of some attention? Who needs it. That's what I say. :) And I'm the boss, so there.
6.04.2011
Live Your Life
My husband gave me some good advise yesterday, "Stop trying to be like other people and do what they do. Just be yourself and do what you're passionate about. You live your life." And he's so right. And I'm so bad at that. Second to an uncanny selfishness, my other big sin is fear of man. I'm a people-pleaser. And it does me no good. And I don't want my daughter learning that. So, in the spirit of full disclosure: I love my job because I love helping people, I hate knitting because it makes me feel mental, I love gardening because I love digging in the dirt and playing with worms (and if nothing ever grew, I'd still love it), I totally love shocking people with grossness (my daughter audibly giggles at her own farts and I'm 100% to blame), my all time favorite thing to do is waste time with my husband, I love me a good movie, and I love to lie on the floor and absorb an entire album. I only like reading books when I don't actually realize I'm reading (sorry Shakespeare--you're just too damn convoluted) and I actually don't mind a bit that my house is super messy. There, all things I generally wouldn't admit. That actually makes me feel a lot better. :)
5.30.2011
The Dead are Waking
Wooooooooooooooooot! So, last time I posted, well, different life then. Now have hubby and baby. Baby's gonna be 9 months old in a couple days--how's she's grown. Anyway, maybe I'll actually make something of this blog. I've always kept it in the back of my mind. Life now doesn't resemble what it was when this blog got started--I'm different in a million ways--all good (well mostly, I hope!). I have a lot to offer (who doesn't?). I've got things to say--and not just dark and poetical things--real life and living things. I think I always liked the idea of this blog, but could never make it happen because I was just altogether too sad. Not sad now. :)
3.02.2007
This morning and last I made my husband porage for breakfast and we ate together before he went to work. It was very nice. There is something very wonderful about sending your man off into the world with a full belly and a packed lunch. Nothing makes you feel more like a woman, like a meaningful and uncontentious wife than to take care of and properly feed your husband. This is life.
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