September 28, 2006
Wild Winds
The first time I fell in love, it was autumn. I was 21. I thought I was world-weary, sage, and strong.
I was wrong.
I remember the first kiss, because in so many ways, it was my first real kiss. If I touch my lips now, I can still feel that spark.
Walking his dog after dinner, a sweater against the cool wind, we pictured our lives. Kids, jobs, house, vacations, retirement, world. We set it to music. We decorated the bedrooms. We twined up our fingers and grinned at each other as we strolled.
Ask me. I still remember our future-daughter's name.
Then a decade passed and none of it came true. You put that much love, admiration, passion into a bond and bind it with gold. Don't matter a damn. Won't get it done.
Life is half chances and half perserverance. And you never get to choose. The strangest things happen out of the blue on an ordinairy, isn't-it-warm-for-the-season Thursday afternoon.
The train pulls away, and you say goodbye.
It's autumn again.
Yet another decade gone.
Don't get so many of those that I wouldn't notice.
I remember last fall, squeezing the stuffing out of every day. So busy that my hands shook. The guy who spoke French with an Irish accent would call at 6am. Bear had to be at school by 8:30. Elia always made me wait. CD wanted dinner before karate. And the e.VP who'd ring me at 9pm looking for status on tomorrow, 'cuz he could never remember what time zone I was in.
I knew every second what I was feeling. The rush of sensation like I was being pushed through some kind of crazy neon tunnel. And each night, Bear would sleep as I watched - a day older. And I'd wonder what kind of day it had been, through his eyes and toes and ears.
You know?
I was thinking about that today. Kind of quiet day, as I sorted through some more of the endless piles I've made in my slow (some might say leisurely) scrub of the house. As I did dishes. As I picked out Bear's clothes, and cheered him on during his writing practice. And listened about how Kindergarten class went.
I watched the branches bow to the wind outside the window and I lost myself to thought in the living room.
It occurred to me, that I never had that daughter.
It occured to me that I got a hell of a first kiss.
It occured to me that I get less done in a day than I used to in an hour.
It occurred to me that, well, that's OK by me.
This is not the autumn of dreams. This is not the autumn of kisses. This is not the autumn of tears. This is not the autumn wrestling regrets as I watch my son sleep.
Now is a new season. An autumn of the next decade.
Of dusky afternoons making soup. Of ennui and fine lines. This is the season of my bright green suede jacket, and the scarf I picked up in Paris last year. Of looming disaster and waffles in the morning. This is the season of mothering, and letting go. Of knock-knock jokes and finishing long-started things. Of gusts that lift my hair, and of growing it long again. Of breezes that tug the pitches out of the strike zone, and maybe bring my husband's arms back around mine.
I love this time of year. Of pumpkins and squash and crunchy leaves and freshly sharpened pencils. I remembered that this afternoon as the steam from cooking pasta melted my face and my aged cat watched from the chair.
You know why people fight so hard to love, to marry, to become parents?
Because it's worth it.
This life, these choices, His will, a different pace. For this season.
An autumn of wild winds.
Posted by: Elizabeth at
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Memories are tough, like winter. Try thinking of sping and summer. The past can be wonderful and bittersweet.....don't think about the what-if's.
Cute pictures of you and your family.
Posted by: LeeAnn at September 28, 2006 05:13 PM (ZGpMS)
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It's very satisfying when you realize you're living in the present. It took me a long time to achieve it only to lose it and regain it once more.
Like you, I love autumn.
Enjoy your crisp, orange days!
Wonderful post!
Posted by: Mia at September 29, 2006 05:26 AM (n3D1V)
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It sounds as though you've begun to find your sea legs. Hooray!
The moments that we move through, each one, they are life. We don't get them back, but we do get a fresh supply every time we wake up.
I'm so glad to read this entry. It was strange for me to realize that my life would have seasons, would be changing;sometimes slowly, sometimes too fast.
Enjoy this one. Before you turn around twice, Bear will be getting his drivers license and testing his wings.
Posted by: paige at September 29, 2006 11:40 PM (MfHKu)
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Beautiful post. I wish for many happy decades to come for you.
Posted by: Sol at September 30, 2006 03:32 AM (hBQte)
Posted by: Maverick Moon at October 01, 2006 01:05 AM (owcIA)
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Very poignant post. Quite timely for me, thanks for writing it!
Posted by: Serenity Now! at October 01, 2006 10:23 AM (CSe6s)
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Lindsay spotlighted your blog and I ran right over. Beautiful post~~I'll be adding you to my MorningCoffee :-)
My baby is in Kindergarten this year; isn't it fun? (seriously, I love Kindergarten!) C
Posted by: Cmommy at October 01, 2006 10:36 PM (hE5hU)
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I came by via Suburban Turmoil. Congrats on the PPA! Trying to read blogs and distract the little one with painting is not such a great idea, just a tip.
This was such a beautiful post, your thoughts really come to "life".
Posted by: Waya at October 02, 2006 02:06 AM (FhJgb)
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garsh.. you just got me all teary eyed. in the hub bub of my busy morning, thanks for reminding me what really counts.
Posted by: lisa at October 02, 2006 04:01 AM (zX30O)
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What a wonderful post! I've so enjoyed it! Congrats on your PP award!
Posted by: Beth at October 02, 2006 04:37 AM (1B+D0)
Posted by: Renée at October 02, 2006 06:49 AM (KurCB)
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That left me breathless with wet eyes. There's too much that struck a cord here to even mention. Beautiful.
Congrats on the Perfect Post award. This one sure as hell deserves it.
Posted by: MommaK at October 02, 2006 06:59 AM (nTAs7)
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Wow! So richly textured. So much said here. Beautiful!
Posted by: Michelle O'Neil at October 03, 2006 02:58 PM (fnGhT)
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September 20, 2006
About, now in progress.
This is the graphic I am working on, for a new "About Corporate Mommy" page. Since, you know, I'm not anymore. Corporate. The Mommy thing, if I'm lucky, is for life.
Whaddya think?
I'm feeling a little duplicitous, because I realized that none of these pictures show my current rubenesque figure... lthough the bottom picture is fairly recent....
Posted by: Elizabeth at
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It's *lovely*.
Posted by: Cheryl at September 22, 2006 11:43 AM (n20Y8)
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See, I knew you were beautiful on the inside, and this little filmstrip proves that it applies to the outside as well. I love it.
Posted by: undercovermutha at September 24, 2006 01:43 PM (yjVMS)
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I really like it! YOure very pretty.
Posted by: angela at September 25, 2006 04:52 AM (UUz4I)
Posted by: cursingmama at September 25, 2006 07:47 AM (PoQfr)
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I think it's pretty. My user picture is just of my cat (who is also pretty). So there we go.
Posted by: madrigalia at September 25, 2006 09:46 AM (Xi2zG)
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It has been a while since I visited. I think this domesticated goddess thing looks good on you. You also write with less tension. Stay positive you can always get off the train.
Posted by: Diva at September 27, 2006 06:46 AM (YuMk0)
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Those pictures are beautiful! Elizabeth through the years.
I've been playing around in Photoshop for a bit but end up thinking my camera sucks. There's a
message board that I go to for tips and stuff - and every time I am there I am blown away by their talent. Of course it makes me not want to post what I've done!
Posted by: Michele at September 27, 2006 03:50 PM (5VGFA)
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September 19, 2006
If You Give a Pig a Pancake
I finally, finally got a manicure last Thursday. And it's already ruined.
Freaking TV broke.
Let me sum up.
No. Is too complicated.
Let me explain....
See, once upon a time, we bought an antique door while in New England. Then we strapped it on the roof of the van and drove it the million billion miles home - with it fluttering and crashing "thwacka thwacka THWACKA" the entire way.
70-dozen-bajillion Advil later, it was raining when we pulled into the driveway. So we untied it and carried it into the little garage at the back of our property.
"Careful... careful... ok.. HEAVE!!" *crash* "We'll take it out and strip it and revarnish it as soon as the weather clears..."
*crickets chirp*
Then, 2-plus years later, the television died.
So hi-ho, hi-ho to Best Buy, where the nice people smoked crack and decided to give US (of which, half is unemployed) no-interest for 18 months. An hour later, we're walking back to the infamous Thwacka van with a TV as thick as Volume 1 of unabridged Shakespeare and costing as much as my first semester at Loyola.
CD's hands sweating and face grim. Because my husband? Is very fiscally conservative. He loses sleep when our financial health slips from Kermit to Ernie.
However, this is a terrible reality for him because as an Icelander he is also bred to be acquisitive and gadget-crazy. He's always fighting the cat-like compulsion to bat around and buy bright shiny things like tin foil balls and Surround Sound systems.
So it's just best for him if we NEVER go into Best Buy. Where the one half of him is thinking about the cost of money and interest rates and getting nauseaus and the other side of him is thinking "ooooh! Pretty dials!"
We survive the trip. We survive the parking lot. Then he looks at me after sliding the Thinnest.TV.Ever into the van and says "next to the house and the car, this is the most expensive thing we've ever bought." He's wrong, the couch cost more but I'm not arguing the point with a 6-foot green-faced husband.
We get home, and place a plank over the stairs and roll a wheelbarrow into our living room to snag the Dead.Humongous.TV and roll it into the alley and then, with quiet pomp and a little circumstance, CD gently rests Thinnest.TV on the stand.
Which is in direct line of sight of the front foor.
Which we never lock unless we're home.
Because, frankly, the door is older than the dirt in the front yard, literally. We suspect the lock in it was made by Barbary Pirates. It can't be replaced, the holes aren't in any place useful to current lock mechanisms. The only key we have for it is the copy of a copy of a copy of a sailor man and only works on days ending in "shit!".
CD stands out on the front steps. He looks in at the new TV. The old TV weighed 250 pounds. We figured, if someone stole it we could always find the thief in the emergency room with a hernia. We got nothing worth stealing, we always said.
Yeah.
So this weekend, the "thwacka" door was uncovered during an archeological dig of the garage and pulled onto sawhorses to be restored.
To the sounds of Ziggy Marley and Muddy Waters, we sanded and sanded and scraped and sanded. And scraped. Oh, and swept the driveway.
There is a children's book called "If you give a Pig a Pancake" about how one thing ALWAYS leads to another. How, if you give a pig a pancake, you'll end up with a syrup-covered bovine in a tutu using up all your Polaroid film.
And what I'm saying is - my fingers are sore and my manicure is destroyed.
Because the TV broke.
(But worth it, maybe?)
Posted by: Elizabeth at
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The entry where you describe bringing home the door? That's the first entry of yours I ever read! I loved it!
THe pig book is a favourite around here. So far, all the Terror's have learned is that pigs are messy. I think they're missing the point.
Posted by: tammy at September 19, 2006 10:03 AM (F3oq+)
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I always find it amusing to see what it will tkae to get my husband to do anything that he had promised to do many years ago. Either it involves me screaming at him until I am drowning in my own tears (out of frustration) or things with pretty buttons.
Pretty buttoned things really get his ass in gear - so much so that I've commented that I should dress up as our new 44" widescreen LCD tv for Halloween just to get the house ready for winter. Ooh look, honey! The TV is going up into the attic with rolls of insulation!!
Now comes the point when CD will look at your new tv in circular ads or in the store and kick himself because the price had dropped.
Sometimes I swear we're married to the same person.
Posted by: Michele at September 19, 2006 03:04 PM (5VGFA)
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Very confusing as you post statements like the ship is sinking and you're at risk of financially going under any day now, and then you do this major purchase. Very mixed messages - I wonder if this is only as it seems when reading the snips of your life that you choose to share publicly, or is representative of the whole picture.
I remain concerned about you.
Posted by: Amy at September 20, 2006 03:27 AM (sJ+B/)
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Ha! I'm just like CD (except the Iclandic Guy thing) dying for the latest and greatest shiny thing - but history tell's us I am a poor chooser of the shiny things & I absolutely turn green when the $ is spent so I no longer buy anything shiny.
Posted by: cursingmama at September 20, 2006 03:40 AM (PoQfr)
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First of all, to "Amy" I'm pretty sure they had an orchestra on the Titanic. I have been in (and am slowly emerging from this situation) and there are times you need to weigh sanity against practicality. You don't get to judge until you are in that person's moccasins. So back off!
Now on to the comment. We too love those books in our house. But I can't help wonder if the pig the moose and the mouse don't have a touch of ADD. However, I must say that I empathize with both the pig (or other animals) and the poor kid who is following him around. I SOOO know how this goes. Remind me sometime to tell you about how we got a new kitchen because the oven died.
Posted by: caiwyn at September 20, 2006 03:56 AM (PwBrn)
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Caiwyn-
I didn't 'judge', I said I was confused and concerned. Do you not recognize the difference or does that subtlety elude you? If I 'judged', I would have said something like "Are you out of your mind buying a TV when you are not financially stable?" I didn't write anything like that.
No orchestra on the Titanic here. Just concern. Financial problems, as it seems you are aware, are easier to get into than get out of. As is depression. As is an untenable situation in general, as Elizabeth has expressed over the past many months. I've had experience with all these sitautions, so perhaps you need to remember you're not in my moccasins either.
Posted by: Amy at September 20, 2006 04:55 AM (sJ+B/)
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Sorry your manicure got messed up.
It's usually the pig's fault around here too . . .
Posted by: Philip at September 20, 2006 08:02 AM (P5FhD)
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That frikkin' pig.
He shows up around here too. Usually in the form of inlaws...then a week later the whole family has the plague and all my shoes need to be replaced.
PS. I'm not allowed to post because my blog is "questionable content"? I promise I'm not all that objectionable.
http://blogs.chron.c om/mamadrama/
Posted by: Jenny at September 20, 2006 09:03 AM (lUt0Q)
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September 13, 2006
I make a lousy wife
It has been CD's complaint since I left my job that I don't clean enough.
When I worked, we had Elia here every day. And Elia? Is a clean freak. God love her. Each night, I would exit my little office to see the tidy floors and hear the hum of the dishwasher.
It took a LOT of stress off a stressful few years to have Elia around. Because I am NOT exactly Lady Tidy and CD? Good Lord. CD is a living PigPen.
My messiness comes with 3 scoops of guilt. My old-fashioned Yankee parents drilled into me from the youngest age that a messy house is a sin.
His cleaning dysfunction comes with a strange sort of blindness. He can't even see the chaotic mess that erupts in his wake. He just knows that when he comes home from work that the Mess is here, waving to him cheerfully as it snacks on Lorna Doones.
So his first, terror-stricken, thought when I left my job and Elia left us was... WHO IS GOING TO CLEAN?!
(With a beady glance that said 'And it better be YOU'.)
There were negotiations, there were discussions. Jimmy Carter visited and facilitated a treaty. The UN sent in troops to enforce the terms.
And yet. Our house is a bloody wreck.
In the past 6 months, I have attempted to maintain a 50%-and-no-more policy with a don't-mess-don't-clean codicil.
But mostly? I haven't written.
(What? You didn't notice?)
I lost a gig that 6 months ago I could have whipped out without a sweat. I have sat, impotent, at my keyboard.
Lost.
In a messy house.
Conflicted, unable to concentrate. Trying to put up blinders so I won't be distracted by laundry that needs folding, toys that need tidying, trash that needs binning.
Feeling waves of guilt like a fever, because how dare I take time for this? How DARE I - without Elia to clean and mind Bear - lock myself in my mind and my words?
Last night, CD said - 'You are Depressed! You need therapy!'
I gave him a blank, dead-fish kind of a look. A little bubble over my head with the word "huh?" in it.
'If you weren't,' he told me, 'the house would be clean!'
See, when all you got is a hammer - then every problem is a nail. Believe you me.
I've been to psychiatrists, therapists, neurologists, and my GP. You know what they say? That I am going through a major shift in life, that I need to sleep more, that I would benefit from having a counselor to help me wade through my choices and my direction, and that I should work out 3 times a week and take fish pills.
I sigh.
He said, 'I'm tired of coming home and the house isn't any cleaner than when I left and you expect me to clean AND watch Bear while you..."
It took a whole night and this morning for my fuse to finally reach the TNT that is the deepest part of my brain. If his cell phone was made of a flammable material, it would have exploded in hs hand - leaving him with smoking eyebrows and a shocked expression.
I'm rolling up the damn doormat, and I'm declaring independance.
I can't live like this anymore.
I left my job for many reasons, good ones.
And none of them included becoming a better maid.
I can't let my indecision wreck me anymore. Sure it sounds specious - unwashed dishes doesn't equal writer's block.... right?
But in my case, it has.
Like a blogger I once loved, I'm not Donna Reed.
I have to put those expectations away. And I have to refuse to let anyone else put them on me.
It is time to lay down the guilt. Gently. And then kick it smosh it burn it with that crappy incense leftover from my college days.
If you love me, you want me to be happy. You want me to write, because I am a writer. Maybe not a very good one - but it is in my DNA, this compulsion. You want to hear the tapetty of the keyboard more than the hum of the dishwasher. You understand that my sanity and my bliss comes from this.
And maybe it isn't fair to say all this aloud, on a blog visible from space.
But I needed to say it.
Finally.
And screw the house.
Posted by: Elizabeth at
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I'm thinking about sharing pictures of my dirty house this week. Care to play along? We can not clean ours together.
Hey, I've got a job to look for! Who has time to clean?
Posted by: undercovermutha at September 13, 2006 04:32 AM (T9R1H)
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The house will be okay - it's the people that need to be cared for first.
Take care of yourself.
Posted by: cursingmama at September 13, 2006 06:08 AM (PoQfr)
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And a finer dec. of independence I have not read in a long time!
Posted by: rp at September 13, 2006 06:26 AM (LlPKh)
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I'll bet your house still looks better than mine, hon.
cursingmama is totally right. take care of you, and the house will get taken care of in time. A messy house just means you've got your priorities straight.
Posted by: caltechgirl at September 13, 2006 06:33 AM (/vgMZ)
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Well from one clutter hound to another - it didn't get dirty all by itself or at the hand of one person. So he wants a clean house, you just tell him that Uncle Mike 1) did the dishes every night, 2) cleaned the bathroom, including scrubbing the toilet, every week because he felt that men made a bigger mess around the john, 3) cleaned out the litter box every day and changed the box once a week, 4) did the laundry every week 5) vacuumed once a week and took out the trash and mowed the lawn or shoveled snow as the season demanded. I washed windows (the only flat surface ready to clean at all times in my house), washed floors, did all the interior painting and all the cooknig and shopping. As you may recall I worked at home and never once was I called to account for a messy house.
Now I get to do it all and I've found that when things get out of control that biting it off in one hour increments every day eventually gets the job done. So you both have to agree to bite off that one hour a day together, that's two hours total. You are working, doing a lot of the Elia stuff that she used to do with Bear, trying to write and most of all trying to get healthy.
love and kisses
Auntie Marfa
Posted by: auntiemarfa at September 13, 2006 10:40 AM (/qtT1)
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De-lurking here to thank you for your honesty. I share many of your conerns, and your anxiety over choices (I'm WOHM, but I am always angst-ridden).
It is a ridiculous turn of events that somehow wife and mother have been attached to housecleaner. They are not the same thing. At all.
And you have to take the time you need. Your family is wonderful, but I really believe that women have to create their own boundaries. Husbands and children will never (rarely? --I know I'm making sweeping generalizations here) say--hey, know what mom? Take some tiime for you. I don't need anything else.
But they do want you happy. And you know best how to make that hpapen
Posted by: coquette at September 13, 2006 02:41 PM (4OTNP)
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Well, it does sound like you are depressed. Maybe you should consider real medication, beyond fish pills. I am a working writer, and when I stayed home to write, before I had children, I got very depressed. It's isolating and stressful. I think your husband was harsh but I don't disagree with him. Even if you don't like to clean (and really, who does like to clean?), letting things really go can be a symptom of depression. Are you producing? If you're not writing, then you have a problem. There's no shame in medication. When I burned out (spent a solid month on the couch, smoking and reading Proust and NOT writing, thus going more broke), I ended up taking zoloft to get out of it. I know the other commenters have all said supportive things, and that's great. But you sound depressed, you aren't producing, and you are upsetting your husband with your lack of actions. It sounds like you need to look at other options. good luck. you'll come out of it.
Posted by: none at September 14, 2006 02:10 AM (NKvOc)
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I just read an obituary about Ann Richards, the former governor of Texas who was renowned for her rapier wit. One of her notable lines was "I don't want my tombstone to read, 'She kept a clean house.'" And neither do you. Go where your dreams are.
Posted by: Melanie at September 16, 2006 04:59 PM (ThbQz)
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Clean is over-rated. Who ever looks back at their childhood and says fondly "My mom sure was a great housekeeper. What fun times."
Posted by: tammy at September 16, 2006 06:05 PM (F3oq+)
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Try flylady.net, or at least her philosophy. She'll give you a plan (15 minutes a day.)
of course, since I have never cleaned my own house (as an adult) I shoud talk...but on the surface, it looks good.
Posted by: xf at September 16, 2006 10:42 PM (rKE84)
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I totally relate. You are not alone. Ever since I got out of the rat race and had my son, I've had anxiety issues. And guilt issues...about housecleaning, for example. I wasn't trained to be a house cleaner.
Your writing is a pleasure to read...take good care of yourself so you can take care of your family!
Posted by: emma at September 17, 2006 09:34 AM (il9/2)
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I am right there with you. I work 40 hours a week at a domestic violence shelter, have 4 kids ages 13,10,9 and almost 7... He says he shouldnt have to clean because he pays all the bills. I am tired! There is a site you might like it helps me stay kind of focused www.flylady.com. I am so glad bear liked the zoo when you were in Omaha. I miss that place so much! Hang in there....
Posted by: angela at September 17, 2006 11:40 AM (aMr1f)
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Corporate life is a breeze compared to housekeeping - believe me, honey!
I live in a third world country- have a full time job, a six year old son , 21 yr old step daughter and a jet setting husband.and this is my staff : 1 live-in housekeeper,2 full day maids, 1 driver and 1 gardner and I am saying this too!
Posted by: shuchita at September 17, 2006 06:23 PM (IjCXs)
Posted by: Ann at September 18, 2006 10:34 AM (Yf55e)
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I am so proud of you. Let the Icelander know that he can clean and be responsible for part of the household care. Please listen and indulge your Muse!
Posted by: Azalea at September 18, 2006 02:04 PM (hRxUm)
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I'm glad you're not jumping right into medication because your house is messy.
Posted by: Mia at September 19, 2006 02:18 AM (Wgx82)
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You ARE definitely a talented writer! I hope you got/found/have resolve and resolution now
Posted by: Fredette at September 21, 2006 09:06 AM (L67iN)
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September 12, 2006
Letting him down...
There are days when I am just certain that I am the worst mommy alive.
Last year, I was all organized for Bear's birthday before we left for New England - I had the invitations, the address book, the reservation made at My Gym.
This year, in my chaos, I had to enlist CD long distance after I had already left. It took about 20 phone calls and 3 different reservations before we came to a date with My Gym and then I was in the strange position of sending out sort of anonymous Birthday Invitation fliers to his new school and invitations to his old classmates.
Last night we got a call from My Gym - however it happened in the flurry of calling in August... there was a miscommunication.
Bear doesn't have the venue for this weekend when we thought. Another party is in there at that time and they were confirmed first.
I tried to look calm as I broke the news to Bear. He listened, and didn't cry.
More stoic than me.
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Don't worry too much about the change in plans for the party. Kids are far more resilient than we give them credit for and Bear will bounce back from these little bumps in the road way easier.
However, that being said, I think it bears reflection that the reality seems to be that you got more done, were more energized, more efficient, more directed, dare I say even happier when you were busier? You seem like you've been lost for months, adrift, unhappy and confused.
It seems from the snippets of posts that CD and Bear sense it and the whole family's mood seems tentative. I tried to share an inkling of concern that perhaps the SAHM world wasn't the panacea you were painting it to be (having been on both sides of it in my own life).
Now that you've been out of the job for a few months, perhaps you might consider some opportunities that lie between the Type-A work world you left and the vacuum you live in now.
The financial pressure can't be good for CD and the tension about it can't be good for either of you. Bear will be in school all day - you don't need to be in an empty house all day alone (at least to my way of thinking). I would wish for you some middle-ground arrangement wherein you could be home FOR Bear, but working to contribute and ease the monetary tension during school hours. I think when you find the balance, your house will be neater, you will feel better, b'day party invites will go out on time, etc etc. It's an old cliche that if you want something done, give it to a busy person, but in your case it seems to be true.
Worth thinking about.
Sorry for the long post and I certainly don't mean to lecture. I just have come to care about you from afar after reading your blog for all this time and wanted to add some encouragement from my vantage point.
Posted by: Amy at September 12, 2006 05:34 AM (sJ+B/)
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aww crap. Sorry hon. Don't worry, it will work out one way or another.
Posted by: caltechgirl at September 12, 2006 06:31 AM (/vgMZ)
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Great work!
http://qsazwcpv.com/kpjo/lmxm.html | http://odvjeucz.com/cklf/uzuj.html
Posted by: Cory at September 18, 2006 10:34 AM (nYUvh)
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September 11, 2006
DOING MY DUTY
Today is CD's Birthday. It is also our wedding anniversary. And it is, of course, another anniversary. We've struggled in the past couple of years to reconcile all this on one day - with complications resting atop like a thin Al Fredo, seeping in.
But this year, it's been made easy for me.
For the first time in my life, I've been called to Jury Duty. Interestingly, in criminal court.
Somewhat fitting, I think.
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Today is also my wedding anniversary. Plus my father in law passed away five years ago tomorrow. Plus the obvious anniversary. It definitely is hard reconciling all of it. Happy birthday to CD and happy anniversary to you both. And, jury duty. Yikes.
Posted by: karmajenn at September 11, 2006 04:19 AM (32GTi)
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I've always wanted to go on jury duty ... never been called though.
Happy (?) anniversary though ...
My brother and his wife also got married on his birthday ... made it easy for him to remember when their anniversary is (seriously, that was the reasoning)
Posted by: Michele at September 11, 2006 02:22 PM (5VGFA)
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Hey! It's my anniversary, too. Happy birthday to CD, and happy annivesary to you both.
Posted by: Jenny at September 11, 2006 04:51 PM (fcvxR)
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Happy birthday to CD, and happy anniversary to the two of you. How odd it must be to have the anniversary of a tragedy overlaid on a day of personal celebrations.
I've always wished that I'd be called for jury duty during a period when I wasn't working, so that I could fully participate in the process, rather than worrying about getting back to work.
Posted by: Kimberly at September 12, 2006 07:09 PM (CXd4V)
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September 05, 2006
On the day you were born
We will wake him up, and pull him between us in bed. Like we do, every year, on this morning. And we will tell him his story...
Mommy sat, like a bird on her eggs, for 236 days.
Actually, it was 276 days until your egg hatched - but there were 24 days before we knew about you and 16 days during the second trimester when we went to LA and swam in the rooftop pool of the Intercontinental Hotel.
So, yes, it was 236 days of bedrest when all the nice doctors listened with all their instruments and decided that it was time, really time, for you to be born.
At the Evanston Northwestern Hospital, they gave me a special medicine at 5PM that would poke my body and tell it you should be born.
By 9PM your Nana arrived from Boston, and your Aunt Dee was there, and Daddy was singing to you inside of me.
At 1AM, we took a long hot shower. It was supposed to make me feel better, and it did because I laughed and laughed to see your daddy climb in with me with all his clothes on.
At 3AM, I was given a shot to make me rest. Your dad and Aunt Dee would giggle as I would wake up and shout "ow ow ow" with each contraction and then fall back asleep.
At 9AM I got a really BIG shot called an "epidural" and then the nurses said I should try and push you out.
At 11:15AM Daddy saw your head when I pushed! The doctor told us your head was turned the wrong way to be born and manually worked you around to the right position.
At 1PM the doctor said "great pushing but Bear hasn't turned all the way and was well and truly stuck."
2PM, they said "Stop Pushing!" Sweetie, you were jammed in my pelvis. In case you've forgotten, let me remind you: Neither of us liked you there.
At 3PM, the emergency C-section began. It took 52 more minutes to free you. My body was really tired and the machines all were beeping and almost simultaneously, you were born and the doctors decided it was time for me to rest.
As they took you out of my tummy by your feet, you stretched out into the world. The doctor turned you right side up and you surprised her by lifting your head. Then you reached out and grabbed her around the neck. (Yes, Bear, like a hug) She had your handprint there for hours.
Your dad cut your cord and they harvested your stem cells to be donated for someone who needed them - because you didn't anymore. (You see? From the very start, your birth was a blessing.)
The people in white coats rubbed you, measured you, and wrapped you cozy in a blanket. Then your dad grabbed you up. I got to see you and you had dark blue eyes and big cheeks. Your dad held you close to me, close to our faces so you could see your mommy and daddy.
The nurses and doctors wanted to take you to the nursery but they just had to wait until I was stable before your dad consented to leave my side. Because, he was never about to leave yours.
Hours later, when I woke up in Recovery, your dad brought you to me again.
Finally, we really met.
I smelled you and touched you and memorized your face. For a long, long time the three of us rested on that bed together quietly, the way we still do.
On the day you were born, it was warm. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds. A doctor walked with your tiny handprint on her neck. The Cubs were winning in extra innings. Jane Addams would have been 140 years old...
And a miracle happened.
Was I the miracle?
Yes, Bear. You were. And you still are.
Posted by: Elizabeth at
04:25 PM
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Post contains 674 words, total size 4 kb.
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beautiful. i wish every child had this kind of birthday story shared with them. (my heart swells!) happy birthday all around.
Posted by: gigi at September 05, 2006 06:27 PM (7ZYfB)
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Happy Birthday Bear!! What a wonderful tradition
Posted by: Jules at September 05, 2006 10:10 PM (urYq4)
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Happy birthday, dear Bear. You have a great mommy and daddy.
Posted by: undercovermutha at September 06, 2006 01:57 AM (FLJz9)
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It makes me teary with happiness for you... each and every year that I am lucky enough to hear this story. Thank you for sharing your beautiful miracle with the rest of us.
Happy birthday, Bear!
Posted by: Sol at September 06, 2006 02:49 AM (LCPKg)
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Happy Birthday Bear. Happy Birth Day, Elizabeth.
xoxo
Posted by: Just Me at September 06, 2006 06:32 AM (gtpvj)
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Happy birthday, Bear!
Lord have mercy...how this entry made me cry!
Posted by: paige at September 06, 2006 11:30 AM (sL97Z)
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Happy Birthday Bear! I hope you had a wonderful and special day!
Posted by: caltechgirl at September 06, 2006 03:07 PM (r0kgl)
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Happy Birthday, Bear! How lucky you three are to have each other.
Posted by: Kimberly at September 06, 2006 07:42 PM (CXd4V)
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Happy birthday, Bear! What a wonderful story.
You took me right back to the stories of my children's births (two of them at Northwestern ... I wonder if we had the same OB?) ... they love hearing how they came into the world, too.
Posted by: Ruth at September 07, 2006 12:01 AM (Kd0YM)
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That was a beautiful story, Elizabeth!
I remember seeing Emma for the first time and asking her how the trip was ... my OB (who was sewing me up .. ew) and the nurse laughed at me. It's one of those things I tell her about on her birthday - she loves it.
Happy Belated Birthday, Bear!!!
Posted by: Michele at September 08, 2006 03:59 PM (5VGFA)
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September 02, 2006
verisimilitude.
verisimilitude \ver-uh-suh-MIL-uh-tood; -tyood\, noun:
1. The appearance of truth; the quality of seeming to be true.
2. Something that has the appearance of being true or real.
I wrote an article on spec a couple of weeks ago. It lacked verisimilitude. Too shiny-happpy-people, if you know what I mean. I only
live cinema verite - can't write it, unfortunately for my bank account.
Well, we'll see.
We're now 6 weeks away from running aground. CD is doggie paddling against the undertow, trying to stay afloat long enough to breathe. Bear swings between acting out and clutching at me madly.
It's been a wonderful summer, wish you were here.
Fall's coming, the breezes are chilled. Remembering back to when the teachers would assign a 500-hundred word essay on what we wanted to be when we grew up. Remembering the view outside the bedroom window, the taste of the pencil eraser in my mouth.
An astronaut?
A parent?
A doctor?
A teacher?
A ballerina?
A cop who shot out of highrise buildings, bullets flying and dripping blood as the bad guys stood on the steps long enough to get a clear shot?
The music from the radio, the posters on the wall, the breeze.
"What if I don't want to go to the new school every single day?" he asks from the backseat.
"Because why?" I ask.
(Mumbling) "Because I don't like the new teacher."
"Sweetie, you're going to have to man up and go to kindergarten. Every day."
"Why?"
"Because it teaches you how to get what you want."
"What if I want to NOT go to school?"
(Score one for the kid.) "Well, Bear - tell me something. What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"Everything. I want to fly jets and be a police officer and a paleontologist and a black belt. And a Daddy."
"Those are great things to want to be. So think about them for a second."
(Softly, looking for the trap.) "OK...."
"The only way to get to make those dreams come true is to study, and practice, and you'll really need money which you can get from working everyday. And I want you to get your dreams, but I don't have a fairy wand that could make your them come true. But I CAN help you learn perseverance."
"What's that?"
"That's going to kindergarten. Every single day."
(Long silence.)
"Mommy?"
"Yes, honey?"
"What did you want to be when YOU grew up?"
(Glance in the rearview mirror, the copper hair, the cherub's cheeks.)
"This."
"This what?"
Almost out of money, CD's struggling, will we have to sell the house? Can I get a waitressing gig, maybe?
"This sweetie. Right this minute now. To have memories of teaching and serving and traveling. And to be in this car, right now, with yummy leftover birthday cake and balloons in the trunk and you. To be Daddy's wife. To be your Mommy. I wanted this, and maybe - just an ounce more faith."
"Really, Mommy?"
"Yes, Bear. This. This was my dream, and now it's true."
Posted by: Elizabeth at
05:20 AM
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Post contains 514 words, total size 3 kb.
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Believe it, and it will come true.
Posted by: ieatcrayonz at September 02, 2006 08:02 AM (IV2ZU)
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Oh, hang on. Hang on. You and your beautiful family...I wish I could help in some concrete way. Do know, though, that you gave Bear such a gift in that moment, the strength of you, of your love for him and for your family.
Someone I trust very much told me: If you can solve it with money, its not really a problem.
I didn't believe it at the time and greeted that statement with such anger and even feelings of betrayal.
But it is a truth and a Truth. No matter where you live or what your circumstances are, your family is more than your house, more than your stuff. My family has been there, we still have one foot in there. No matter where Bear goes in life, he has the unconditional love you gave him with that statement.
Hang on. Hang. On.
Posted by: paige at September 02, 2006 12:13 PM (bCOAo)
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I have no idea what the criteria for substitute teaching is in your area, but you might want to look into it. The hours are ideal, and you can continue looking for some other way to keep your head above water while you work (contract free).
Posted by: tammy at September 04, 2006 04:08 AM (F3oq+)
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Your blog is fantastic and I get chills reading you. Here's hoping that some parts get easier.
Posted by: Liz at September 05, 2006 12:40 AM (Cw5tt)
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