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Month: October 2004

A Multi-tasking T-Day

A Multi-tasking T-Day

Today is a T-day.  A glorious, holy, sacred T day.  If you’ve been here long enough, you know that my T-Days are the days I am alone.  My sacred day.  My ME day.  Melissa talked about T days over at Suburban Bliss.  That will help you understand why we so LOVE our T days.  In fact, on this sacred days our IM’s rarely start with “Hi” or some form of socially acceptable greetings.  They are always started with something about our T Day.  A moment to preach the gospel of Days Alone.  The most dreaded greeting one of us could send or receive would be “She/He is SICK.  SICK ON A T-DAY!” There are gasps of horror.  Shrieks of disbelief.  And usually much sympathy drinking and consoling.  You must understand how much we need, cherish and worship our T-Days.

Check your calendars with me, wonderful internet people.  What is today?  Oh yeah, baby, it is a T-Day!  (Excuse me while I just jump up and down clapping for a moment.) Unlike my poor fellow worshipper of T-Days, my holy days last 5 hours.  5 HOURS ALONE.  With no one here.  Not one living, breathing person who needs me to do something for them.  Not one poopy butt to wipe AT ALL.  Oh, yes, I love my T-Days.

Today is Gabriella’s Halloween party at school.  Parents are invited.  It’s for one hour.  Smack dab in the middle of my sacred T-Day.  What to do?  What to do?  I suppose since I will have the rest of my T-Day to myself, I should go, right?  Oh sure, it will cut down on my running through the house in my underwear screaming “I am all ALONE!  I am all ALONE!”, but it is for my little girl.  Maybe I can combine a few of my T-Day activities.  Oh say, running through the house in my underwear WHILE eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s with 80’s music blaring from my stereo.  It won’t be quite the leisure activity as it is when those are done seperately, but sometimes a mom just has to make these sacrifices for her children.

But seriously, don’t call me today.  With my multi-tasking situation going on because of the party, I simply won’t have time to talk.  And yes, I might just be a little bit rude.  This is my sacred T-Day afterall.

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Playing catch up

Playing catch up

Good morning! Ahhh, the bliss of sitting in a quiet house, sipping coffee (out of my brand new coffee mug that Brandon bought for me at camp…such a good boy!) and watching the battle of the morning divas on television.  Oh, sure, it may not sound very thrilling, but after a weekend of arguing kids, cleaning up mess after mess after mess, this is good!  My family seemed to have a case of the Mondays today, but let me just tell you that for me, with the exception of getting up too damn early, Mondays can be good.  Everyone except for me and Gabriella are out of the house.  It is pretty much a recovery day for me.  Time to catch my breath and reclaim my house.  (Don’t get me wrong.  It is nothing as sweet as my Tuesdays and Thursdays to myself.  Now THAT is some quality time!)

I can tell my body is adjusting to the meds.  For one, I am SLEEPING.  So, this is what people do at night!  Of course, I still find it extremely hard to believe the directions on my sleeping pills that say to only take them when you are “guaranteed to be able to sleep for 7-8 hours straight.” Are they kidding me? Does anyone sleep that long at a stretch?  Seriously?  Because I only sleep that long if I am sick.  I am not saying there is anything wrong with it.  In fact it sounds completely blissful.  But is that possible?  I would love to be able to do that.  For me, my 6 hours (with minimal waking up now) is like a vacation.  I am a new women getting this much sleep!  And when I wake up on my own?  There is no gradual waking for me.  I go from deep slobber-sleeping to wide awake ready to GO GO GO!  (Now, when the alarm does the waking it is a bit more grump-induced than that, but at least I feel sane and rested.)

Speaking of sane, I’m not there yet, but I do feel like I am on my way.  This weekend I varied between fatigue and elation.  However, bat-ass crazy was not on the list this weekend.  Trust me, for my family that is good news.  I am hoping the whole fatigue thing will wear off soon enough.  It is frustrating to be getting more sleep now and yet still having to battle fatigue.  I am feeling better, though, afterall.  That dark pit is no longer swallowing me up.  Part of that also has to do with fact that so many other women have told me that they understand and have been there too.  I guess somehow knowing that I am not the only one to snap does help.  Of course, that means that there are more bat-ass crazy women out there than just me, so you better look out.  You never know where we may be hiding. 

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One of the (un)chosen few

One of the (un)chosen few

This being an election year, we are subjected to the political process more than we really care to be.  I used to think that backstabbing, unfair policies, outright lies and favoritism to those with the deepest pockets was something reserved for Washington DC and politicians.  Until I came to know our PTA. Now remember, I was one of the insiders last year, so I know how this group works.  I’ve seen the political game in action. 

You see, every year our 5th graders go to camp.  They look forward to it all throughout their years in elementary school.  It is a BIG deal.  They tell any parents who want to go that they can sign up and be put into a “random” drawing to be chosen to accompany the kids.

A “random” drawing. (Can you see the *eyeroll* from there?)

In fact, in the meeting that discussed this “random” drawing, I even asked aloud if it would truly be a “random” drawing or a designated people are going and whatever slots are left we will have a “random” drawing.  They insisted that “Oh, of course it would be fair.  Everyone has a shot!” That night my husband and I laughed over this.  In fact, we had a wager going.  I would pay him $1,000 and do anything he wanted to an entire MONTH if I was randomly chosen.  Knowing that I broke up with the PTA last year, I realized that if the drawing was fair, I had a chance.  However, knowing this PTA like I do, I was willing to bet my life that it wasn’t fair. 

Let’s just say if this “drawing” was random, then whoever did the actually choosing of the names “randomly”, they need to get their butts to Vegas PRONTO.  Because, honey, they beat all kinds of odds.  I hope they play the Lotto!  I hope they get on all game shows, especially that new one of PAX called “You’re Full of Crap.” They would SO excel on that one!

Maybe I am misjudging it.  You tell me.  This is the “random” drawing results” of the parents chosen:  PTA president, PTA Vice President, PTA board member that has been on the board forever, a cop, a professional photographer and a Scout Master.  In addition 2 other moms who are at the school anytime the doors are open.  You know the group.  The ones that get to do everything while the parents who work or have other kids get to try to pick up whatever crumbs they leave behind. 

What do you think?  Was it a “random” drawing? 

I know it sounds as if I am bitter.  I am not. (Much) I am angry.  Realistically, it would have been incredibly hard for me logistically to be able to do this.  But I have friends who really wanted to go but are not able to be there Every.Time. The. School. Is. Open.  They never had a chance.  And that makes me mad.  I had to look at my son who so badly wanted me to go (before the “random” drawing) and try to prepare him for the fact that hell had a better chance of freezing over than me being selected in their “random” drawing.  (Of course, I said it much nicer to him.)

The ironic thing about it all, even though my gut knew it wasn’t a “random” drawing, it was someone who was chosen to go that approached me telling me how sure he was that it wasn’t “random” and that he felt guilty that he was one of the Chosen Few.  I adore this man, so I told him to blow it off and have fun.  But you see, to hear it from one of the Chosen Few just proves that it is obvious to not only us, the UNchosen Few, but those who were selected to go.

I still have 2 more kids to go through this school.  (Assuming that we are still here and that there hasn’t been a petition to remove The One Who Goes Against the Stepford Way of Life).  You better believe I will be all up in the faces of whoever is in charge of this when it is time for my other children go.  And ironically enough, because they made their choices so obvious, I am no longer alone it seeing how pathetically biased this PTA has been.  They shot themselves in the foot this time (and I didn’t even have to help).

Washington DC has nothing on the PTA when it comes to dirty politics.  The candidates could learn a thing or two from this group.

Bitter much?  Perhaps.  Deal.  I am crazy, remember?  wink

(Question…has anyone ever been dooced out of a school for their website?  Just asking.)

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A word of advice (or something like that)

A word of advice (or something like that)

First, I don’t even know how to thank you all for your support.  I am overwhelmed and amazed by the outpouring of support and love from you all.  The comments and emails made such an impact on my heart.  Thank you so very much.  You all are the greatest EVER. 

For those of you who emailed me worried about my lack of posts since my admission of being in a dark place, thank you.  I am doing better.  However, things in my life conspired to keep me offline.  So, rather than a boring old entry that details it, I will give you the following:

Top Ten Things to Avoid After You Lose Your Mind (or think you have)

1) Timing your breakdown at the same time as the one your computer has scheduled.  That’s right.  My computer in a show of solidarity and support, decided to have a nervous breakdown as well.  Try as I might to shove those little Xanax into the disk drive, she just wouldn’t give me anything other than a dark screen.  At last, Clint was able to coax her back into the real world.  I am not sure how long she will stay with us, but for now, she is trying.  I’m considering therapy for her.

2) Do not time your breakdown the weekend before you have to drop off your first born son for a WEEK away at camp.  It can kind of mess with your head to have your CHILD gone for so long.  (Longer than he has ever been away from me, thankyouverymuch.) Let’s just say my anxiety level was enough that I insisted on meeting the bus driver personally before letting him go.  (Don’t worry. Brandon had no idea that I did that.) I assume I will stop going into his room to check on him at night –habit, not craziness–about the time he is snuggled back home where he belongs.

3) Do not submit really personal essays for critique when the strongest level of criticism you can handle is “Are you sure you want plastic over paper” at the grocery store.  (Don’t judge me!  I need to handles on the plastic bags!)

4) Don’t call me on my day off and tell me my kid isn’t feeling well.  Is a limb severed?  Is his spleen hanging out of his nose?  Do you UNDERSTAND how important my days off are to me?  Fine!  Fine!  I’ll come get him.  But you owe me, Miss Substitute Nurse!

5) Don’t run out of gas. Without any money on you.  In a parking lot.  With your child.  Just trust me on this one.

6) It is possible–alas probable– that your husband doesn’t really want you to describe your ENTIRE day to him in excruciating detail just as he is turning off the light to go to sleep.  Especially when the biggest and most exciting event of the day was that your 3 year old pooped in the potty without being told that it is time to poop in the potty.  He will NOT exhibit the same excitement that you did.  (But remember, he isn’t on happy pills like you are.  He can’t help it.)

7) Try to avoid scheduling your nervous breakdown around the same time as a FINAL exam for a course you are taking.  A good article for submission to a major publication (required for your final) does not include the phrases “idiot fucktard”, “commie bitch” or “incredible amounts of flatulance-induced fumes.” Again.  Just trust me there.

8) Telling a police officer that you are aware that your tags are expired and that you are oh so sorry, but that you just can’t muster up the ability to squirt a tear over it because of these wonderful happy pills that you are taking are MIRACLE workers.  They rarely understand the use of happy pills.

9) When napping, just turn off your phone.  I mean, really, is there anything that is SO important that I have to wake up to talk to you.  (Yes, I realize that my son wasn’t feeling good.  Remember that whole spleen question?  Ask yourself that next time.)

10) Finally, don’t wake up your husband–who has been blissfully sleeping for at least an hour– just to tell him how hilarious you think it is that they put a warning label on your sleeping pills that says “Warning:  May Cause Drowsiness.” He really won’t think it is as hilarious as you do.  I promise.  (But you can call me.  I still think it is!)

So there you have it.  Just a few things that I have learned this week (while being offline and unable to communicate them to you).  I hope I have spread the knowledge and the joy.  (But no, I won’t share my Happy Pills.)

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Sleep, sleep why have thou forsaken me?

Sleep, sleep why have thou forsaken me?

The problem with insomnia is that suddenly your rules for proper behavior are hurled out the window only to be replaced with rules of behavior that somewhat resemble a sociopathic wack job’s etiquette.  (For this entry, new moms with babies who don’t sleep, refuse to sleep and you wonder if they will ever sleep ever in their whole entire life, feel free to interchange the word insomnia with “can’t sleep because this damn baby refuses to sleep and I think I just might be going crazy.” It applies as well.)

Normal people don’t go into a Starbucks and become frantic to find the MOST caffeinated drink on the menu…and then beg for it to be “a double shot…no a triple…no, just hand over the coffee beans and I will chew them.” When you have Insomnia Insanity, you suddenly believe that the barista actually gives a damn about hearing how tired you are.  That look on her face when you go on and on about how much you long to sleep, that you long for it more than the best sex you’ve ever had while eating chocolate in the Caribbean after you just won a $10 million lottery is not sympathy but rather shock and a slight bit of fear.  And for the record, it is not really socially acceptable to tell the person who actually sneaks in that double shot of espresso that you love him and will name your first born after him.  They usually don’t know how to respond to that.

It’s just that I am SO DAMN TIRED that I have actually lost my everlovin’ mind.  I have lost track, but I think that I have gone about 10 thousand nights without sleep.  Clint says it is more like a week.  At least I think that is what he said.  It was hard to understand him seeing as I was smothering him with a pillow for having the audacity to actually try to sleep.  At night.  All night.  Frankly, I found that rather rude.

Oh, and another tip for you.  Pharmacists don’t think it is funny when you are there to pick up your son’s asthma medicine to say things like, “You don’t happen to have any extra Ambien back there that you would like to part with, do you?” Especially if your eyes are all glazed over and blood shot from LACK OF SLEEP.  No.  They don’t find that kind of thing very humorous.

Finally, try not to make rude exasperating comments about that noise that is so freaking irritating and WHY DOESN’T THAT IDIOT JUST ANSWER THEIR CELL PHONE for crying out loud when in fact it is your cell phone in your own pocket.  Because really, there are few things more difficult than talking your way out of that one.  I’m just saying.

Now, I have things to do and coffee to tank in order to function. I am expected to function today as a responsible member of society… or something like that.  In fact, I have a deadline coming up soon.  I have to actually write something that would make sense to someone who has slept within the last 24 hours.  I have no idea how I am going to do that seeing as my brain fuction is currently that of a retarted dung beetle. 

So for the love of the sleep gods, if I don’t get some sleep soon, I cannot and will not be help accountable for my actions.  Do you hear that MR. ANNOYING NEIGHBOR with the dog that never stops barking especially when you ARE ALWAYS mowing your lawn when I am trying to sneak in a nap?!

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The photo project

The photo project

I have had so much fun with the other bloggers who have done this, I thought I would offer it up for you, my kind readers.  Let’s just call it a chance to get a glimpse into my everyday world and/or things that I see on a daily basis that amuse me.

Think of 3 pictures you’d like to see. Leave whatever you’d like to see in the comments. Things around my house, or whatever… something I can take a picture of easily. Once I have enough requests, I’ll start posting them. If I can’t, or won’t, take a picture of something you’ve requested, I’ll let you know.

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