I can't seem to post much anymore, so here are a bunch of thoughts all scrunched up together.
I quit facebook last weekend. Someone told me my page is still up, but the person who told me that is not all together with it, so I think she may be mistaken. I quit I because I found myself wasting at least twenty minutes a day looking at what other people were up to and twenty minutes of my life adds up to a lot. I'm a mom and a wife and a friend and a sister and a neighbor and many other things. I have important tasks to tend to and I just don't think I need to be reading what other people, most of whom I never even see or talk to, have to say about all manner of things. (Ironically this is exactly what I hope people will do whenever I write a blog post - waste twenty minutes of their day coming on here to see what I have to say about all manner of things.)
For me (and only me - this isn't a sweeping condemnation of facebook) it became mindless and not entirely purposeful. I wouldn't even realize how long I was looking at things. It's like picking my lips. I cannot tell you how many times I've senselessly picked away until I'm in utter pain and left to scour my house in search of one of the hundreds of chap sticks strewn all over the place. Usually I end up finding a tube under the bed and it's all scooped out so I have to get some sort of utensil and dig out any last remnants. The whole scene is slightly unattractive. Greg usually comes in the room and pulls out a ridiculously large lip balm he found at some drugstore. The sheer size of it makes him think of me, not because he thinks I'm large, but because he knows how much I pick my lips and how I'm always looking for my "lip stuff." All that to say, facebook was as useful to me as picking my lips. I don't have time to do both, so the facebook went.
Greg brought home an elliptical trainer a month or two ago. It's just like the ones from the gyms. At first I thought it was foolish to have this gigantic thing in our already overflowing garage, but I got on and realized I love it. It's a good change of pace when I either can't do the bike or need a break from it. Alas, a new problem has now entered my life. I do the elliptical for an hour and end up hungry so I go inside and eat... and eat and eat. And then I feel bad so I go out and do the elliptical for a while longer. I'm doing the elliptical so I can eat and I'm eating because I know I'll just go out and do the elliptical.
The observant person who has been reading my blog for any length of time will realize I have an issue with self control. Sane people would just do the workout and then NOT go inside and engage in gluttony. In my defense, this machine produces a hunger in me the likes of which I have never felt. According to the workout summary I deplete over 600 calories while on it. Now I know this is not accurate so no need to leave comments to that affect, but truly it is a hard workout. No matter how you slice it though, I have a discipline problem, but not nearly as bad as I used to, which brings me to my next thought.
I love going to confession. Some people who don't understand this sacrament think it's just an excuse for people to go out and sin because they know they can go tell a priest everything and all is forgiven. That's a crude understanding of course. The truth is, the more consistently you go to confession, the less likely you are to even want to engage in sinful behavior. Of course you still will, but you'll find yourself doing less of the most spiritually harmful things and when you do engage in them, you'll recognize the old sick patterns immediately. Regularly confessing your sins to another human being can't help but make you aware of how you are living.
It's no coincidence that over the past two years I have completely lost all desire to go and spend money I don't have. I don't get a rush going into Target. I spend days thinking over whether or not I really need something or whether I want it. I wear the same clothes over and over again. I haven't purchased a single decorative lampshade or pillow since spring of 2009. Spending money no longer gives me a sick high. I'm more content than I ever was two years ago when I was in the midst of living a destructive lie that included hiding outrageously high credit card receipts from my husband. The major difference in my life between now and then is that I make use of the Sacrament of Reconciliation on a pretty regular basis. I could never have changed without the graces I receive after leaving the confessional. I think I just got preachy, but I kind of don't care.
I'll end with this quote which I found amusing and has nothing to do with anything...I am not sure where it came from, but it made me smile. Whoever said it was referring to David Sedaris and his writing (have I ever mentioned I love him) - "Easy listening for the self satisfied liberal."
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
This post is vulgar, but sometimes so is life and I refuse to edit.
After spending a few relaxing nights away camping, we came home to find a big pile of dog poop in Anthony's room. I suppose I need to be honest; it was several piles of dog poop (of the loose variety). The bonus was that Anthony's room was already strewn with papers and pencils and Legos and clothes, the result of me telling him for the past three months that I wasn't going to pick up his mess and then him sweetly telling me back that it didn't bother him at all to live in a state of utter chaos, and then me saying fine with me, I couldn't care less how messy it gets in there, but then really going into my room and screaming into a pillow.
You would think seeing his toys covered in dog excrement would upset him, but I think he was secretly thinking how well this worked out for him since now I had no choice but to pick up his room. There's something quite humbling and completely insane about a grown woman crawling around on her knees with a breathing mask on, cleaning up after a dog, a creature that I'm pretty sure was never meant to live in-doors in the first place.
Thankfully I've been a mom for nearly fifteen years, so I'm well acquainted with crap in all its forms, both human and non, and no job is too tough for me. I've had so much experience in all of this that I made up a little diddy a while back that helps me get through the whole process of picking up the kinds of things that would have been better left in a toilet or dumpster, rather than on floors and walls and underwear. Admittedly, the song is heavy on the words piss and shit and it goes something like this...Piss and shit, piss and shit, I'm gonna clean me some piss and shit, piss and shit in the morning! The word morning can be changed to evening, depending on what time of day it is. I just repeat it over and over in my mind until I start laughing, which only takes a couple of seconds.
Of course my intention on Sunday morning was to get home from camping, take a shower and get myself to Mass. I kept looking at the clock in Greg's truck thinking about the spectacular time we were making. But you know what they say about the best laid plans. As I was telling Jane all of this while she watched me pick up Buster's poop (and really, is there anything better than having someone watch you pick up dog poop while you nearly gag to the point of puking, all the while the person repeating to you, "I wonder when he did it, I wonder how long it's been there for, do you think it's been there long mommy?") she said to me, "That's okay mommy, God knew you had good intentions of getting to church today. He won't be mad." To which I could only smile and say thanks. As a mother I've learned to find God wherever I have to, including on my hands and knees picking up dog do do while listening to me sweet daughter reassure me things are just fine with me and my maker.
And in case you're wondering, yes, I ended up having a spectacular day, despite its beginnings.
You would think seeing his toys covered in dog excrement would upset him, but I think he was secretly thinking how well this worked out for him since now I had no choice but to pick up his room. There's something quite humbling and completely insane about a grown woman crawling around on her knees with a breathing mask on, cleaning up after a dog, a creature that I'm pretty sure was never meant to live in-doors in the first place.
Thankfully I've been a mom for nearly fifteen years, so I'm well acquainted with crap in all its forms, both human and non, and no job is too tough for me. I've had so much experience in all of this that I made up a little diddy a while back that helps me get through the whole process of picking up the kinds of things that would have been better left in a toilet or dumpster, rather than on floors and walls and underwear. Admittedly, the song is heavy on the words piss and shit and it goes something like this...Piss and shit, piss and shit, I'm gonna clean me some piss and shit, piss and shit in the morning! The word morning can be changed to evening, depending on what time of day it is. I just repeat it over and over in my mind until I start laughing, which only takes a couple of seconds.
Of course my intention on Sunday morning was to get home from camping, take a shower and get myself to Mass. I kept looking at the clock in Greg's truck thinking about the spectacular time we were making. But you know what they say about the best laid plans. As I was telling Jane all of this while she watched me pick up Buster's poop (and really, is there anything better than having someone watch you pick up dog poop while you nearly gag to the point of puking, all the while the person repeating to you, "I wonder when he did it, I wonder how long it's been there for, do you think it's been there long mommy?") she said to me, "That's okay mommy, God knew you had good intentions of getting to church today. He won't be mad." To which I could only smile and say thanks. As a mother I've learned to find God wherever I have to, including on my hands and knees picking up dog do do while listening to me sweet daughter reassure me things are just fine with me and my maker.
And in case you're wondering, yes, I ended up having a spectacular day, despite its beginnings.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
lunch conversation
Jane - Did you know a survey showed 97 percent of people in Florida think Casey Anthony is guilty.
Me - No, I didn't know that.
Kate - (yelling from the other room) Yeah, the other 3 percent weren't present for the survey.
Me - hahahahahaha ( that's not really what I sound like when I laugh my ass off, but you get the idea)
Pretty funny kid.
Me - No, I didn't know that.
Kate - (yelling from the other room) Yeah, the other 3 percent weren't present for the survey.
Me - hahahahahaha ( that's not really what I sound like when I laugh my ass off, but you get the idea)
Pretty funny kid.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Weekend thoughts
I love my husband and kids. I suspected this for some time but it was confirmed while I was away and felt myself missing and thinking about them quite a bit. I even missed them after getting numerous calls referencing things like the cable account, i pod chargers and inquiries about why exactly I had to go away in the first place.
I'm done going away by myself for a few years. I got it out of my system and have no desire to be a thousand miles away from Greg or the kids for a long time. At first this revelation caused me to feel shame because I figured it made me some kind of loser who is too attached to her role as wife and mother, but then I realized that I am just like any other professional who goes away and thinks about work obsessively. Those kinds of people are mostly venerated and thought of as being ambitious and hard working type A people who make the world go round, but I'm here to tell you something you probably already know - it's mothers who make the world go round so if you happen to be one, find a way to make the people in your life venerate you instead of those idiotic type A fools. Going away for fours day helps this process along.
Having said all that, I had a terrific time both at the wedding, and hanging out with my sister and her family. There was much laughter going on all weekend and that's never to be missed if it can be helped. I would have felt awful if I skipped out due to my intense fear of flying, which by the way was not at all eased for one second while I was on the plane, but more on that later. The wedding was beautiful and fun. The highlight was dancing while screaming/singing along to Bruce with my siblings. The low light was the much too small piece of delicious wedding cake we were served. I almost laughed when I saw it sitting there on my plate. It was as thin as a piece of American cheese. I'm convinced the caterers were trying to steal the cake. They approached my brother's wife after they had served everyone and asked her if she would like to bring home two big pieces and she said no, she would like to bring home the entire rest of the cake. So I don't really need to know anything else about this person my brother has married. She appreciates cake and that really is the most important thing there is to know about someone.
Now about the plane. Two friends gave me books to read to keep me calm on the trip. I thought this was a good idea and was excited about reading both of them. I took out the first one shortly after takeoff and after ten pages I realized I had not technically read any of the book. I was turning pages mindlessly. It's like when you realize you've arrived at your destination and you have no idea how it happened. I put the book down and decided to try and calm down and go back to it later, but I never calmed down. I stared out the window and realized that if we crashed I was dead meat. There was no chance of survival. I looked at all the little plots of land and felt envious of the people below who lived there and were safely on the ground. At that point I should have shut my shade and tried to sleep but I must have been getting some sick pleasure out of being so morbid because I just kept looking out the window and shaking my leg. Then I looked around the plane and wondered if I should tell everyone else about the dead meat thing. It seems that there are people on planes who are completely at ease and not at all worried about this and I don't like other people being calm while I'm not. I decided not to say anything though. I was reassured when the plane landed but only until I remembered I would be getting on a plane to go back home.
My sister brought me to the airport on Sunday morning and asked if I was glad I had come and I told her I wouldn't be able to answer that question until I was back in Orlando. If the plane crashed I would most definitely not be happy I went. But here I am in one piece sitting at the computer so yes, I'm glad I went. The only thing I'm mad about is that I would have had even more fun if I hadn't wasted time all weekend worrying about whether I would make it back home. I also would have had more fun if I got a bigger piece of cake.
I'm done going away by myself for a few years. I got it out of my system and have no desire to be a thousand miles away from Greg or the kids for a long time. At first this revelation caused me to feel shame because I figured it made me some kind of loser who is too attached to her role as wife and mother, but then I realized that I am just like any other professional who goes away and thinks about work obsessively. Those kinds of people are mostly venerated and thought of as being ambitious and hard working type A people who make the world go round, but I'm here to tell you something you probably already know - it's mothers who make the world go round so if you happen to be one, find a way to make the people in your life venerate you instead of those idiotic type A fools. Going away for fours day helps this process along.
Having said all that, I had a terrific time both at the wedding, and hanging out with my sister and her family. There was much laughter going on all weekend and that's never to be missed if it can be helped. I would have felt awful if I skipped out due to my intense fear of flying, which by the way was not at all eased for one second while I was on the plane, but more on that later. The wedding was beautiful and fun. The highlight was dancing while screaming/singing along to Bruce with my siblings. The low light was the much too small piece of delicious wedding cake we were served. I almost laughed when I saw it sitting there on my plate. It was as thin as a piece of American cheese. I'm convinced the caterers were trying to steal the cake. They approached my brother's wife after they had served everyone and asked her if she would like to bring home two big pieces and she said no, she would like to bring home the entire rest of the cake. So I don't really need to know anything else about this person my brother has married. She appreciates cake and that really is the most important thing there is to know about someone.
Now about the plane. Two friends gave me books to read to keep me calm on the trip. I thought this was a good idea and was excited about reading both of them. I took out the first one shortly after takeoff and after ten pages I realized I had not technically read any of the book. I was turning pages mindlessly. It's like when you realize you've arrived at your destination and you have no idea how it happened. I put the book down and decided to try and calm down and go back to it later, but I never calmed down. I stared out the window and realized that if we crashed I was dead meat. There was no chance of survival. I looked at all the little plots of land and felt envious of the people below who lived there and were safely on the ground. At that point I should have shut my shade and tried to sleep but I must have been getting some sick pleasure out of being so morbid because I just kept looking out the window and shaking my leg. Then I looked around the plane and wondered if I should tell everyone else about the dead meat thing. It seems that there are people on planes who are completely at ease and not at all worried about this and I don't like other people being calm while I'm not. I decided not to say anything though. I was reassured when the plane landed but only until I remembered I would be getting on a plane to go back home.
My sister brought me to the airport on Sunday morning and asked if I was glad I had come and I told her I wouldn't be able to answer that question until I was back in Orlando. If the plane crashed I would most definitely not be happy I went. But here I am in one piece sitting at the computer so yes, I'm glad I went. The only thing I'm mad about is that I would have had even more fun if I hadn't wasted time all weekend worrying about whether I would make it back home. I also would have had more fun if I got a bigger piece of cake.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Marriage
Me - Why do all the pictures keep falling off the walls?
Him - Maybe because you're hanging them with packing tape?
Me - What else would I hang them with?
Him - Nails.
Me - Seriously?
We've been married for close to eighteen years and Greg still believes that at some point I'll start doing things the right way. It's nice to live with someone so hopeful. It's probably the reason I married him. I must have sensed he'd never give up on me.
Him - Maybe because you're hanging them with packing tape?
Me - What else would I hang them with?
Him - Nails.
Me - Seriously?
We've been married for close to eighteen years and Greg still believes that at some point I'll start doing things the right way. It's nice to live with someone so hopeful. It's probably the reason I married him. I must have sensed he'd never give up on me.
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