Filed under: Uncategorized
Attention all readers:
I’m not as whiney as I seem.
Sure, I’d love it if Sweet Daddio worked fewer hours, but I’v learned to make the most of his time at home, as best I can. If this means changing the lightbulbs myself, and not getting too worked up if a broken thing doesn’t get fixed right away, so be it. I’d rather go for a walk or a drive to Savannah (less common with gas prices being what they are) with him than be a harpy about the chores.
And yeah, a paycheck would be great. If someone out there wants to send me one, I won’t turn it down, but the benefits of this lifestyle I chose 20-1/2 years ago far outweigh the lack of paycheck.
Also, I know I’m loved, by my family, and by God. I feel it most of the time (whenever the Mood Issue isn’t trying to take over). Even my dogs love me! And Phleud, who follows me around and sits in my lap, purring his heart out, whenever I make said lap available to him. So yeah, I feel loved most of the time (whenever the Mood Issue isn’t taking over).
See, I’m fixing to Go Away for the better part of a week. Jersey Chick is leading Vacation Bible School at her church, and was suffering anxiety about the lack of Craft Leadership. Well. Craft Leadership is my forte’. I’ve done it for a VBS at a church with 300 kids for years, and was missing it since we moved. So I am going to Near Atlanta for the better part of a week, to guide and direct Crafts. Whee! What this means is SD and Boys (#’s 2 and 3) will be on their own. I’m not cooking anything to freeze and have ready for them, because times past when I’ve done that it was pointless, they just got Taco Bell or made sandwiches. I’m not neatening up the house for them, because that would be mostly a wasted effort. I’ll do the laundry, and that’s all.
Understand this: I know I have it good. I am thankful for all of, the family and friends, the ability to be able to stay home and take care of everyone and everything. But just like everyone else, every now and then I wonder ‘what if’. What if I’d taken that road 22 years ago, instead of this one? What if I were more outgoing, able to put myself in situations where I’d meet people and Be Involved? What if I never had panic attacks, or paranoia, or those other things that come with this mental disorder? What if pigs could fly and pine trees grew peaches?
So, that’s all I was doing- wondering ‘what if’.
As I was cleaning today, I felt satisfied, happy that the house smelled good and looked nice. Then I thought…in what way does this actually benefit anyone? Does it save a life? Or enable another family to…I don’t know…do something necessary like *eat*?
Sometimes it is such a satisfying life, taking care of a family, watching the kids grow up and be useful. Sometimes I really am *very* happy doing what I do. I truly do believe I’m doing what God wants me to do.
Then sometimes…I don’t. Sometimes I feel kind of trivial, or insulated. If I were a nurse, I’d be caring for people and making them better. If I were a psychologist I’d be helping people find their way through life.
Is there some sort of quantifying factor that is put on a life, that determines the life’s worth? What is the value of a housewife? Oh, I know, I’ve seen the thing where they put a price on all the stuff a housewife does- taxi driver, cook, maid, counselor, all that. It seems I recall the price was something like $250,000/year. How do I know they weren’t just saying that to make me feel good? How do I go about accessing that money? I have a friend who does all those things PLUS homeschools her 3 kids and does all kinds of volunteer stuff at her church. What’s she worth? At least $300,000, I’m sure.
Tell you what, friend who knows who you are, when my rich uncle dies and leaves me all his money, I’ll send you $300,000. Except I don’t have an uncle, rich or otherwise. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts, right?
It’s all well and and good to pat the housewife on the back and murmur about her sacrifice and contributions, but sometimes I’d sure like something tangible, a paycheck I can spend on whatever I like, be it patio furniture, a vacation for the family, or a basket full of goodies from the Dekalb Farmers Market.
I don’t think the Government should start issuing paychecks to housewives. Once they do that they’ll start feeling like they can control how we do things. There will be the whole “seperation of church and state” issue and homeschooling moms like my friend will be regulated on what they can teach. That would be bad.
I just want to whine about about it all a bit. I want to gripe about how I do a certain bit of cleaning, something obvious (to me) that took a while to do, and yet no one notices that I cleaned the door frames and got the fingerprints off the wall going upstairs and scrubbed the cruddy vent cover for the air conditioner. I mean, that vent cover was pretty nasty, and now it’s clean and doesn’t irritate me every time I look at it.
I can make excuses. They’re men, they don’t notice these things. They don’t care if my shoes are organized by color and style, and the clothes in the closet also by color. Smudges on the door frames do not concern them. They want food, and plenty of it. Clean laundry, and to know where their shoes are. To know where the TV remote is (that’s really important!) and what time does Deadliest Catch come on. That’s what concerns them.
Y’know, I have a beautiful pink linen dress half put together. I think today I’ll finish it up, after I find everyone’s shoes and get a meal fixed.
Filed under: Uncategorized
New web site find!
White Whine
Thanks Amber (link in the sidebar)!
The day after Memorial Day is supposed to be the kickoff to summer. You know, Summer…hot sun, popsicles, sleeping until noon and staying up til midnight playing spotlight tag and sleepovers with friends. Summer is vine ripe tomato and salami sandwiches at 3 in the afternoon. It’s going to the community pool at 10 am and staying all day, laying bets on which kid pees in the water and who can make the biggest cannonball splash. It’s listening to the newest Elton John while being scandalized by the boobs on Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboys. It’s ant bites and the turpine aroma of pine trees in 98 degree heat. Cold showers, iced tea, pasta salad for supper and lightening bugs in a mason jar.
My 3 older kids have their own summer memories, and now that’s what they are, memories. Everyone’s working now, a paying job doing something they’re interested in, but getting up at 6 am isn’t summer. Neither is working until 5, coming home tired and hungry. I guess it was inevitable. I did the same thing at 16, working all day as an au pair for 3 summers in a row. I learned how to take care of babies and toddlers, and realized being a mother was what I really wanted out of life.
But, I miss the tomato and salami (heavy mayo, on Roman Meal bread) at 3pm after spending all day at the pool. We don’t have lightening bugs here, and our neighborhood is mostly older folks, so there’s no pickup games of spotlight tag.
#4 is spending a month with his grandparents in North Alabama. They live in the country, so there won’t be kids to play with, but Grandaddy has a new puppy and the pond has been stocked with fish. He’ll be making his own summer memories. Staying up til midnight, sleeping til noon, eating Grandmother’s pound cake and fried potatoes. Ant bites, warm tomatoes off the vine, and the smell of pine trees in 98 degree heat. No swimming pool, but there’s the pond, and a spring fed creek to cool off in. Soon enough he’ll be 16, and working instead of sleeping late.
I know that becoming an adult is the (usually) inevitable result of growing through childhood. I also know that my kids have earned every one of their years, but…it’s a little sad, knowing Summer is gone for them. If I could, I’d give them one more summer to be just their own, to sleep late and be irresponsible. It doesn’t work that way, though. They’re becoming adults, itching for the responsibility, chomping at the proverbial bit to be out on their own . I’m proud of them for that, but I’ll miss having them underfoot.
The outlaws left about an hour ago, and Sweet Daddio and I sat in the swing and ruminated over the weekend. It is our happy realization that everyone pretty much behaved themselves.
There was attempted one-up-manship between the mothers-in-law, with a story being told then a better story being told until one finally seemed to concede that she simply wasn’t going to have a better story than the other. There was very little tension and almost no “I’m a better grandmother than you” stuff.
I didn’t have a xanax one or even a drink the entire time. Go me!
SD took the granpas out to his work, as both men are mechanically inclined they wanted to see his new behemoth machine. He also thoughtfully picked up about 10 pounds of pulled pork barbeque from Thee Barbeque Place (yes, it’s “Thee” and not “The”. I don’t know why.), and Mom had brought cole slaw, and SD’s mom brought a German Chocolate Cake and let me tell you what, that old girl can sure bake a cake. so we had a feast, Southern Style.
I took the grandmas to a local nursery, where we all bought colorful flowers and then wondered where to put them for the trip home. SD’s mom bought me some lantana, which is yellow and orange and will be lovely with the blue salvia.
#2 got all graduated and stuff, and went out socializing afterwards, which made me very happy. See, (cue pathetic noises), I came home after my graduation and read a book, because my ‘friends’ had made graduation plans the year before (I hadn’t moved there yet) and they didn’t make room for me, so I sat home and read and tried very hard not to feel sorry for myself. #2, he has friends and they went to see Indiana Jones and got food and he thought about going to someone’s place and getting enebriated then spending the night there, but when I got up I noticed him in the bed so I’m guessing he didn’t do that.
Now SD and the boys have 2 whole days off! Yes! SD got Memorial Day off! “so what?” you ask “Doesn’t everyone?” No, everyone doesn’t, and SD’s boss thinks holidays are for wussies and people should be grateful they have a job instead of always whining and asking for Christmas or Memorial Day off. So, Sd and the boys are going to get the pool cleaned out and the filter installed etc, so maybe by next weekend it will have warmed enough to swim in. That will be nice!
So there we are. No one died, no one cried, there was plenty to eat (except for the cake, she should have made 2), and I was able to stay completely unmedicated (except for the usual stuff) and happy.
Life is Good.
Filed under: family
So, the outlaws, both sets, are due in this afternoonish. I have a little bit of cleaning to do- touch up the bathrooms and give the floors a sweep. I need to get 4’s clothes all washed and packed, since he’s going back to Alabama with Sweet Daddio’s parents, to stay with them for a month, eat fried potatoes every day, and have pound cake for breakfast and ice cream for supper. Heaven for a 9 yr old, especially one who got his long-legged self grounded for the summer and won’t have anything to do. Plus his best friend who lives across the street is moving away. *sigh* It will be very quiet around here.
2 got a job working at SD’s plant, doing mysterious computer stuff. 3 got a job at the Rec Dept, repairing lawn mowers and such. His shop teacher got him the job. Everyone has to be at work at 7am, and work until 4 or 5. It will be vewy quiet…I may hunt wabbits.
I’m thinking I may rethink how Things Are Done around here. Normally I send SD to work with a container of leftovers for lunch, but it’s looking like I’ll be sending 3 leftover lunches so I might y’know, cook the big meal for them to take, and have something light for supper like pasta salad or veggies from the garden. Like, have lunch for supper and supper for lunch. Any suggestions? I’m not used to fixing lunch for supper, because normally I just have cottage cheese and fruit or some-such simple thing like that, and I’m pretty sure the menfolk wouldn’t appreciate such a girly thing for their manly appetites.
Yeah, I’m feeling a little anxious about the weekend. Well, not just the weekend, but everything. My mind is working a little faster than it should so in order to have something to think about it comes up with schemes and chews over past happenings and worries about the kids and wonders if this new med will work or am I going to just burst into flames and SD finds a pile of ash and a pair of glasses in the chair. The good news is he gets home at noon today, and has the long weekend (HUZZAH!). We’re gonna spend Sunday and Monday getting the swimming pool thingy set up. (YAY! A POOL!)
Filed under: Uncategorized
I love watching movies. In the theater, a DVD, doesn’t matter. It’s the 2 hour escape into another world, being transported out of my own boring reality into a place where there’s adventure and drama and a happy ending. I gotta have a happy ending. Don’t give me none-a that existential boohoo nonsense.
like Dead Ringers. I like Jeremy Irons. I think he’s quite handsome in a sort of skeletal way, and in Dead Ringers he plays a set of identical twins, so there’s 2 of him! But gadzooks what a downer of a movie. There isn’t a happy thought the entire time.
I wanted to laugh, and I really like John C. Reilly. He was amazing in Chicago and boy can he sing! So, I netflixed ‘Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story”
awright- don’t get it if you have kids under 18 in the house. Just don’t. #’s 3 and 4 were at school.
So, #2 (he’s 18 so it’s ok) and I watched it and LAUGHED the whole way through! I mean, every single thing about that movie is just WRONG but holy crow is it funny! The way he made fun of everyone from Elvis to Roy Orbison to…I dunno…Sonny Bono, I think. Priceless. And boy can he sing! I listened to an interview with him on NPR shortly before the movie was released in the theater, and he said yeah, he did all his own singing.
So that’s my movie endorsement for the day. Don’t watch it if sexual inuendo and naked penises bother you (not y’know…excited penises, just naked ones kinda hanging there).
Med changes are scary. There’s never a good time to do it, because even when you’re changing stuff up, life marches on. There’s no time for considering scary side effects, or bad reactions or any of that stuff. I can’t consider it, because even if I’m going all crackly from a bad prozac reaction (remind me to tell you about that some day), the laundry and cooking still needs to be done, and people still get mad at you if you snap at them because it feels like bugs are under your skin or your brain is turning to bubble-wrap.
No, right now I’m not having a bad reaction, I don’t think, anyway. I’m whatchacallit- hypomanic. I can tell, it feels different from the increased activity level of, say, drinking a Red Bull. Stuff bugs me. I see a pile, a perfectly normal pile which ordinarily is quite ignorable, and it screeches at me until I do something about it. I stand at the fridge and stare inside, unable to decide what to eat, so I drink some water and move on.
Hypomania is a great diet plan- increased activity with decreased caloric intake= skinny-making. ‘Cept that it only lasts a few days, then I’m starving and can eat half a cow with cheese on top.
So, I’ve dealt with 2 piles already, and the herb garden is overrun with oxalis so I’m listening to it whine at me about that.
#2 is finished with school so I’m listening to him thump around upstairs and I’m recalling the mess his room is in and thinking I’ll clean it up as well. I don’t know why, just will.
So many things to do, so much is speaking to me. A photo album to put together, Walter’s letters to scan to disc, 95 years worth of snapshots from my grandparents’ lives to scan and archive on disc. And if I don’t do it all RIGHT NOW I’ll…something…bust a gut and make a mess all over the floor then THAT will have to be cleaned up.
Oh and another thing…Dad got a USB turntable to convert vinyl records to CD’s. but doesn’t feel like doing it, so he gave it to me, along with his album collection and mine, need to be converted. Including 4 old 78’s recorded by my great-GREAT grandfather in the 1920’s. Now there’s a treasure. And another task to be done. *sigh*
Y’know what’s gonna be good? Getting away for a week. VBS at JerseyChick’s church is upcoming soon, and since she let me (wheeee!) do the craft part of it, I’m going to be there to do the craft part of it. From Sunday to Friday, yes I am. And, since I will be away from all the existential noise of my own household, I am anticipating an opportunity to slow down just a touch. Plus play with girls. Not that I won’t miss my boys, I will, very much so, but the change of scenery will be lovely.
Since there’s company coming on Friday, I’ll concentrate on getting the house in order for that- dealing with piles, mainly. I’ll worry about the photos and records and all after I get back from JC’s.
But for now, I’m gonna go buy a maglight- graduation gift for the son of a friend.
Sunday, I drove to Alabama, to spend some time with my parents, and to see The Good Dr. H. Monday morning. He’s in Montgomery.
“Rootie!” you query, “Why do you drive 5 hours to see The Good Dr. H. when there’s a whole page full of psychiatrists right here in Statesboro and many more just 45 minutes off in Savannah? Why, Rootie, Why do you contribute to Global Warming with such self indulgent behavior?”
Well, it’s fairly simple. If you’ve ever had a psychiatrist you ‘clicked’ with, you’d know why. The Dr-patient relationship with a psychiatrist is a loaded one. I mean, you can go to a surgeon who’s an arrogant asshole, and that’s ok, because he’s probably arrogant because he’s really good at what he does, and you can live with that. A surgeon doesn’t have to have an opinion about your spiritual life, or understand the dynamic between you and your spouse, or even particularly respect your ability to comprehend the medical situation you find yourself wallowing in.
A psychiatrist, in order to be effective (and understand there is a big difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist. Some folk get the 2 confused but it’s like the difference between a doctor and nurse, kinda) has to factor in your whole life, everything that goes on in it, as well as whatever medical issues you may have, as well as your personality and how you handle whatever he throws at you. The Good Dr. H. has done all these things for me over the past 14 years, and I simply don’t have the desire to start that sort of relationship all over again.
Not only that, there are NO psychiatrists in the area, save 1, who take our insurance, and I’ll treat myself with nettle tea and weekly floggings before I go back to her.
So anyway, I saw him Monday morning. I informed him I was having occasional hypomania (twice since January *wheeee* hypomania’s fun!) and (what I call) Crunchy Depression- 2 episodes lasting 3 weeks each since January. Crunchy depression is an active form, characterized by intense anxiety and hyperactivity, paranoia. Soft depression is the dark and moody kind where you lay on the couch and don’t feel like taking a bath. The crunchy kind is exhausting because you’re on High Alert looking for something aweful to happen because you can feel it coming.
So he asked me, “Any suicidal thoughts or ideation?”
me: “Well, you know I would never act on them because I know what’s going on but that really doesn’t make it any easier because the thoughts are still there but I wouldn’t want to hurt my family so I wouldn’t act on them…You know.”
him: “Well, thank you for trying to preserve my feelings by NOT ANSWERING THE QUESTION!”
So he tells me the lithium is starting lose it’s efficacy a bit, but he isn’t ready to take me off of it because the alternative- Depakote- he doesn’t think it would be a good fit for me. So, instead he decides to add another layer to the cocktail. This time it’s Lamictal- an anticonvulsant- because the nature of my depression suggests perhaps I’m having seizure-like activity in the emotional seat of my brain. Lamictal has very few side effects, it won’t make me sleepy or fat, the only risk (very rare, he sez, like 1 out of 3500, and he’s never actually seen it himself) is a repugnant flesh eating rash down the midline of your face. It starts at the top of your nose and crawls right down around your mouth to eventually reach your belly button but by then you’ll have completely isolated yourself from all human contact. So, if I break out in a rash, even if I just rolled in poison ivy the day before, I have to quit taking it and call him. I can do that. I don’t think I have the prettiest face on the planet, but I don’t want to make people run screaming in the other direciton, either.
So. We’ll see. I am fixing to go look up Lamictal on the interwebs. I am hoping it will work. Every time I go through a crunchy depression (the soft kind I can handle. It’s what Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters are for) I feel like a little bit has been chipped off my soul. Enough of that and there won’t be any left. It’s exhausting, both physically and spiritually, and it is very, very hard on my family.
Right now, tho, I feel great. Something is being done for these mood swings, and just knowing that gives me hope and optimism.
Now I’m off to investigate this rash issue.
