*I saw this picture on a design blog this morning. I REALLY like the idea. I even like the song. I think it’s Depeche Mode, which means M will like it, too. Not crazy about the pink, but that is neither here nor there.
*I’m wondering if it’s considered poor form when someone gives you money, and asks you to go buy them something very specific, and you agree. But then sometime between your agreeing to get them that very specific item, and bringing that very specific item back to them, you change your mind and use their money to buy them something COMPLETELY different. Like asking for underwear, and being given galoshes or something.
*I’m introducing something new to our marriage. A Momcation. Just a small bit of time (perhaps two nights) where I can get away, by myself. No husband. No children. No friends. I have no huge plans of what to do with this time–no shopping sprees, meals out, etc. I just need some time alone. I need and want to revel in my introversion. Nurture it, and let it know I haven’t forgotten the fact that we are introverted, even though my life so often requires me to act otherwise. I want to sleep until I wake up, rather than sleeping until woken up. I want to get up, pee, come back to bed and drowse or read. I want to watch the movies that *I* want to watch, rather than whatever Boy Movie M and I are able to compromise on. I want to knit, without having to stop mid-row to mediate some altercation between my girls. I don’t want to have to worry about where Sarah is, what Nea is doing, what I’m going to fix for dinner, what just got flushed down the toilet, if that mystery goo will come out of very fine girl hair, or if we need to go visit Miss Jana, how much of an issue naptime or bedtime will be, etc. As I explained to M, “You can say that I can sleep until I wake up, and you can say that I can get up, pee, and come back to bed to drowse or read, and you can say that I can have a day just to myself–but the reality of my life as a mother is that as long as I’m around, the girls will want to be where I am. This is good. This is natural. This is the greatest joy of my life. But it’s not what I need. And even if, by some miracle, you were able to keep them away from me, I can’t just turn off my Mom radar. I can’t EVER tune my children out, so even if it was ‘My Day’–I’d still be on duty, whether I reacted to the situations or not. I’d be listening to how you were doing, thinking of ways I could do it better, thinking of suggestions for you to try. Not restful. Not what I need.”
*I want to go on the record as acknowledging (for the umpteenth time) that I have the husband of all husbands, who not only accepted my expressed need, but helped me begin to brainstorm how that would work, and expressed admiration that I was being “courageous enough” to take the time that I needed.
*I’m not like at the end of my rope or anything. It’s not like if I don’t get this time I’m going to walk out and not come back until I’ve got my crazy out. It’s just I realize I need this, and I want to respond to it before it gets out of control. Because I used to have lots of time alone. Some time every day. Yesterday was the first time in I can’t even remember how long that I was in the house, alone. ALONE. And it was giddy.
*I am wearing 10’s today. I can’t remember the last time I fit into a pair of 10’s. Years ago. So I have dropped 2 sizes below the waist, and only one size up above. This is about par for the course. I’m so disproportional–I’ve got this big barrel chest, broad shoulders, and boobs. Well. I used to have boobs. Then I nursed. Now they’re not nearly what they were. I’m OK with that, mostly. Anyhow–TENS! And almost all of the shirts I bought while on vacation–cute, graphic tees that work well with crops and with khakis and with jeans–are too big. I’m swimming in them. Rar.
*My mom is making dinner tonight. I can’t remember the last time that happened, either. She’s making ho-made macaroni and cheese, with kielbasa sausage. I’m thinking I better not get rid of my 12’s just yet…
*There is a chaplain position at the non-profit where M works. This is the same non-profit that pursued me quite ardently last year. It boiled down to the fact that they thought I would be a FANTASTIC chaplain, they really liked me personally and professionally, but there were some in the group that wondered about the impact our marriage would have on the group. They wanted us to be “open” about our marriage, and consent to going to counseling. Ummm…what? What the hell business is it of theirs? Is everyone else’s marriage open for public discussion and comment? And I will be the one who determines whether or not my marriage needs counseling, and it will not be part of a public forum. At first, I didn’t think too much of it. But the further I got away from the situation, the more it pissed me off. So now I don’t know what to do. The chaplain gig is attractive–it’s 8-5, holidays off, weekends off, vacation, sick leave, 401k, benefits. But am I REALLY called to it? Would it feed me the way I need to be fed? I don’t know. It might just irritate the crap out of me, being around so many freaking navel gazers who want to know how my marriage will impact them. Huh. I may have just answered my own quandry.
*I gave myself the worst blister I’ve ever had in my life yesterday. Making clippies for Sarah’s hair. I was hot-gluing embellishments to the clippies, when the embellishment I was working with flipped over, and dumped molten hot glue all over the inside of my ring finger. I have drained this sucker FOUR TIMES. It was a good 1/4 inch above my finger and Mom said, “Drain it. Otherwise you’ll tear it, and then you’ll be REALLY miserable.” It doesn’t hurt as much as it looks like it should, which is a bit worrisome to me, since burns are supposed to hurt, unless they’re really bad and you’ve burnt the shit out of your nerves. Luckily, I was hot glueing right next to the kitchen sink, and got cold water on the burn within a couple of seconds, and aloe vera right after it. Maybe I just did good, nigh instant first aid.
*I’ve discovered that I really like vintage pin-up art. Not like enough to decorate my house in it or anything (but maybe a bathroom…). I like the subtlety of the sexuality–a woman in a dress, sitting cross-legged offering just a peek of a garter belt and a knowing smile on her face. So much better than the sexuality we embrace these days–women should be creatures of secrets, their bodies undiscovered territory. We should respect ourselves enough to claim that birthright, rather than display everything to anyone who cares to look. A bare shoulder, slipped through the neckline of a tshirt is so much more alluring than a spread-eagled crotch shot. Or maybe that’s just me. Heh. “How Beege would be as a Lesbian“.
*I found a cool knitting pin-up. It’s now my profile pic on Facebook. I also found pictures of women knitting naked, which is precisely as unattractive as it sounds. I also found this:
I’m kind of wondering what in the hell it is. And also, what in the hell she’s done to her breasts to make them fit in the little sleeves. What possible use could any woman (outside of a nursing mother, maybe) have for such a garment? People are bizaare. Truly.
*I’m ready for fall. The temps are starting to cool down (80’s, compared to 100’s). I’m ready to have summer over and done with. It’s probably my least favorite of all the seasons, probably because of my intense dislike of being too warm. Yuck. So here, for those of you who also are ready to welcome cooler temps, pumpkin pie, and big yellow schoolbuses: