So I was tagged. It's never happened before, or at least, not that I was aware of. I'm not even sure I know what it means or what the point is.
I was tagged by tinycandi to share six things about myself.
There are "rules:"
1. Link the person who tagged you - done. See above.
2. Mention the rules on your blog - done. See what you're reading.
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours - done. Except for that I think they are pretty spectacular as far as quirks go, yes?
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them - I'm rebelling. See really below.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged - again, rebelling.
1. Nosy/Curious/Paranoid. These all roll into each other. I am curious about life and people and I love knowing things about people. But this bleeds into looking into peoples homes - WHEN THEY LEAVE THE BLINDS OPEN AT NIGHT WITH THE LIGHTS ON. I'm not like creeping up to our neighbors house and peering into their windows. I just crane my neck as we drive by and wonder/imagine what conversations are being had. I think that is why I love blogs SO MUCH. It's like a little window into people's lives. Not being able to have answers to the nosy, curious things leads to the paranoia. If I don't know what's going on with someone, they must be plotting against me. Or my brain thinks of very creative, IRRATIONAL alternative scenarios. It's not healthy.
2. Cleanliness. I am serious about things being clean, neat, tidy, organized, etc., and my hands top the list. I don't really want to go into it more than that. Let's just say that I should purchase stock in Dial or Method, and probably in some lotion stock too, like Lubriderm or Cetaphil.
Seriously, anytime you want to contribute to payment of my therapy, I'd REALLY APPRECIATE IT.
3. Opinionated/Indecisive. Many times I am too opinionated, so much so that my mouth can get me in trouble because it speaks before my brain checks it. Other times I am so indifferent about things that it is a wonder I have ever made any kind of decision in my life AT ALL.
4. Independence/Stubbornness. I don't like being pushed into decisions, even if it's more of a suggestion. If I don't feel like doing something, I won't do it, and I'll hold on to the feeling of not wanting to do it, a trait I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind disappearing. FOREVER.
5. Unrelenting Grudges. I don't forgive people who hurt me. Not in such the complete blanket way that it sounds because obviously The Man has hurt me and I have forgiven him. I am talking about what I find to be unjustified actions. Of course I deserve certain hurts, such as insults hurled at each other during arguments, and I am willing to forgive as well as admit wrong doing and saying I'm sorry. But if I cannot figure out for the life of me why you have done this to me, and will even consult with unbiased third parties in order to gain perspective, then it's over. I will never EVER forgive you or let you in again. There is no chance for you. To protect myself.
6. Soft Heart. Despite all the sarcasm and hardness, I really do have a soft heart on the inside. It doesn't take much for me to tear up during a movie, a good book, heck a commercial with puppies in it. Kids, old people, and I don't know how to be politically correct about it, but "special needs" people - I care for them all very dearly, even those I do not know but perhaps just see walking down the street.
I know I'm supposed to tag six blogs, but I hate that. It's like an online chain letter. I don't want to pressure anyone to do this. So I'm not tagging any blogs. Tinycandi didn't know me and said she was tagging new people and that is awesome for her and I appreciate it.
Take it or leave it.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
So I was tagged. It's never happened before, or at least, not that I was aware of. I'm not even sure I know what it means or what the point is.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I didn't take my pill for the last three or four days. I'm probably going to start taking it again tomorrow, lest I start to really go crazy. I'm starting to feel it coming on already , as though everything around me is screaming at me "I'M NOT PERFECTLY PERPENDICULAR ON THIS SURFACE." or "I'M NOT CLEAN TO YOUR PERFECT STANDARDS, THEREFORE, GERMS MUST BE CRAWLING EVERYWHERE." or "EVERY SINGLE ITEM IN THIS HOUSE IS NOT WHERE IT BELONGS, YOU CANNOT REST UNTIL THAT STATEMENT IS TRUE." And so on times a million. Literally, a million.
It's been nice blogging these last three blogs without my pill to curb my thoughts. Can you tell a difference?
Of course, I will be back again, as I always have the occasional lapse. Until then.
The Boy started kindergarten yesterday. I had been trying so hard to play it cool for his benefit. Everyone around me continued to ruin it by asking if "Mom" was okay and how was "Mom" doing, no doubt putting unnecessary pressure on him that, not only was this going to be hard enough for him, but now he is causing me some kind of stress as well.
I took the day off, knowing that although work would be a good distraction, I needed a day of reflection and freedom to express my feelings rawly (is that a word?) and honestly. The Man made him breakfast and I packed his lunch. I remembered that the lunches my mom made for me were so special when I was in school. On the bad days, it was the only thing that made me feel better. I would sit alone, quietly, and I wept as I ate the peanut butter sandwiches she made, knowing that my mom had touched the food, and even if she hadn't thought about it, I knew it was made with her love for me. I don't know if I have ever told her that, or if I ever could. I wonder if The Boy will ever feel that way about eating the lunches I make for him, but just in case, I intentionally push all of the love out of my heart into the knife as I spread the peanut butter on the bread, hoping that he will be able to feel the difference from any other sandwich I have made for him.
He picked the color combination of his uniform he preferred, a sky blue polo shirt with the emblem of the school embroidered on the chest, and navy blue uniform shorts, complete with a worn brown leather belt, crisp white ankle socks, and brand new sporty Sketchers. He looked so adorable I just wanted to smother him in hugs and kisses. We took the obligatory first day of school pictures in front of the house, pictures of his desk and his cubby, where I snuggled his lunch bag and in my mind I sealed the front of the cubby so that no bad thoughts would penetrate the box and ruin my love sandwich. The Boy would call it "protect." His cubby is "protect."
I think we lingered a little too long. I wanted to drop him off and go, let him start swimming in his new little world. But we looked all around the room at the concepts with which he was already familiar (calendar, weather wheel), and the new concepts (losing your teeth chart). I saw him start to wilt and I just wanted to get out of there. I knew he would be better off without us. He hugged my leg, not in a desperate, screaming attempt to keep me there, but in a defeated sort of good-bye way. Eventually we left. It was the toughest good-bye I have EVER had to say. And I've had to say a lot of tough good-byes in my life.
We went home and I watched a movie, answered some calls from work, and folded laundry. My heart ached for my boy. It was finally time to pick him up. He was enthusiastic as he told us all about his day. The new surroundings, the new kids, the old kids, everything. I don't ever recall him being so animated about educational things. It made me feel so fulfilled for him to have the desire to tell us about his day, instead of respectfully replying with bored responses. A moment I will cherish forever as I know it will not last.
Something really cool that happened is that we went to Borders Book Store on Sunday and I found this book. We read it together, snuggled in one of their cozy red over sized chairs. He really loved the story and asked if we could buy the book. How could I resist? We bought it and then The Man even read it to him Monday morning before school. When we picked him up, we discovered that this book had been the center of their day. They read the book, did a worksheet on it, cut and pasted the story together, and he made his own Kissing Hand with brown paint. It made me feel like a really good Mommy to have picked out that book to read to him and purchase for him.
Today consisted of him acting up before and after school. I am shocked that just two days of kindergarten could affect him in such a severe manner. Apparently I'm not the only one who doesn't deal well with change. It makes me realize how small and childish he still is. He dresses like an adult, so many times he speaks like an adult, and he understands things that are far beyond his age. Yet, he only knows to misbehave as a response to dealing with new feelings and surroundings. We still have so much work to do.
All in all it was a good experience. It's not like I had a choice. I have spent time wondering if it is harder for me to deal with this because he is my one and only. I don't have any other kids who will be having their first day. He is the first and the last. My baby, growing up so quickly and I never will be able to do it again. But I also wonder if it is harder for others. To dread two or more first days of kindergarten! I don't know if I could live through that, knowing what I know now. So now I'm done with The First Day Of Kindergarten, and I can focus on something else until The First Day Of The Next Milestone comes along.
Monday, August 11, 2008
I always figured everyone thought the same way I do. I recently discovered that is not the case. Which actually makes sense, but ya know, I'm all self centered 'n' stuff.
I hear that some people think in colors, others in images, maybe in numbers, and I'm sure a million other ways. I think in thoughts and words. After a big day of typing, I see my hands typing all my thoughts as they go through my head. On most days, and bear with me while I sound crazy, I think voices.
Just one voice actually. Mine. But it's everywhere. I'm thinking laundry, work from today, dinner, work for tomorrow, typing a blog, playing with The Boy, cleaning the bathroom, petting the cat, scratching that itch, what to wear, what we're doing this weekend, replying to that one e-mail, listening to music, watching television, reading a book, remember that one time when this happened, BLAH BLAH BLAH. It never shuts up and it all happens together in one milli-second. It's a lot to take in all at once. I mostly get used to it since it's been that way all of my life. It's hard though because I feel like I am unable to totally focus on ONE thing. And that makes me sad that nobody in my life will ever receive my undivided attention.
It's also hard because it makes falling asleep very difficult some nights. Some nights I'm just so exhausted that I fall asleep right away. Other nights I cannot stop my brain. It is always going. Trying to stop thinking only makes it worse. My therapist tells me to just let the thoughts flow in the hopes that they will eventually go away. I guess it works, like thinking yourself to sleep. I wish I had the ability to turn it off. Just turn off my brain. I wonder what that would be like. No thoughts. Just quiet. And stillness.
I wonder how The Boy will think? I think it's like me because he is always talking non-stop. I think it's hard for his brain to shut down also. How do you think?
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Thanks to the link I saw on Kelvin Kao's site, Puppet Kaos, I no longer have gender confusion:
Likelihood of you being FEMALE is 100%
Likelihood of you being MALE is 0%
Site Male-Female Ratio
Saturday, August 9, 2008
That's no typo; it's how The Boy pronounces the word "interrupting."
Apparently, picking me up from work is quite the interruption to his day. Since changing jobs, I now work closer to home than I did at my last job. But The Boy tells The Man, "Mom should walk home, cuz I'm sick of going to get her."
Do you feel the love?
Thursday, August 7, 2008
We don't let The Boy drink caffeine. For obvious reasons. Our sanity. Oh yes, and health.
However, we very infrequently allow him to have a teeny, tiny sip of our soda, which could possibly contain caffeine. Nothing was even mentioned about caffeine.
On one such occasion it was a Saturday afternoon, around 2 p.m. He took a small drink of my soda. He was fine for the rest of the day and went to sleep at a normal hour, as one would expect.
The next evening, he is acting SO crazy and we are like, What is your deal, kid?
He retorts, "It's the caffeine."
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
The Boy believes that you continue to grow as you age. I understand his logic, but the people he sees on a daily basis defy this reasoning.
We drove by a retirement home and the shrubs in the front were trimmed to spell out the name of the home. The Boy asked, "What does that say?" We reply with the name of the home and then he asks what that means. We explained the concept of a retirement home to him.
He wanted to know how old people are when they go there? One hundred? Yes, one hundred would be a good age for someone to go there.
His reply: "When I'm one hundred, I'm not going to fit in the retirement building. I'm going to go into retirement when I'm 49."
Monday, August 4, 2008
I fell for the marketing. I admit it.
I saw a commercial for this soap and I was like WHAT A GREAT IDEA. So I found it and I bought it. And I tried it before The Boy did so I could show him how to use it.
Let me preface the rest of this by saying the hand washing is a serious business for me. I have ideal hand washing situations that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, others that are tolerable, and finally, scenarios that are completely unacceptable and I'd rather lick my own hands clean than wash my hands in that environment. Probably most people don't spend that much time thinking about washing hands. But I do. And so this experience was important to me.
The idea is that you press down with your palm on the pump and you get a red circle on your hand while the soap goes into your other hand. Then you rub your hands together and when the squid soap takes the red off your hand, you know your hands are clean.
It didn't work.
Even though it's the last thing that didn't work for me on the soap, I'm going to say that FIRST OF ALL, THE FREAKING RED DOT DOESN'T COME OFF THE HAND. Being a semi-professional hand washer, it drove me nearly insane to continue to scrub my hand with the squid soap, cold water, more squid soap, warm water, my regular soap, scalding hot water and some steel wool, the red dot was still there. I stopped short of cutting the dot out of my palm, but don't think the thought didn't cross my mind.
Now, of course The Boy wouldn't be nearly as neurotic about getting the red dot off his hand, but still. If you tell him your hands are clean when the red dot is gone, the poor kid is going to think he can't clean his own hands!
Second, and this could just be a matter of preference, but I like light and foamy soap. I like the bottles that are a liquid and the pump comes out white and foamy, floating like a cloud in your palm. The SQUID SOAP is cold and gooey. It squirts out much the way I imagine the ink spews out of a squid. So if that's what they were going for, they succeeded. Otherwise, IT SUCKS. I can't imagine it cleaning anything well at all with it's sticky, gummy MESS.
Other than the good IDEA and the cute package, the squid soap sucks.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
I love LOL Catz. I saw this one this morning and I just love it. I'm not experiencing this right now, but The Man can surely attest to the fact that I have been that Lioness before. And the poor Lion, cowering in the corner. Now I feel bad.
more cat pictures