The New Girl

Three Things That I Love Right Now.

With the [infestation] rise of reality television, I have found less and less that I care to watch on network tv, honestly.  I know that's not a Popular Opinion. I KNOW. My twitter feed tells me so. (I never really watched Lost, either.)

So. I got Showtime a few months back to watch the fourth season of Dexter [in, like, three days] and in the process, discovered the shows United States of Tara and Nurse Jackie.  Who else is watching these shows?

Anyone?

I have to tell you that I love them both. Love! 

Although, I fear, that just like a real-life addict, Nurse Jackie is going to break my heart.  I like her as a character.  She's good-hearted and filled with love and compassion for her patients.  But her addiction is already progressing, right?  She's putting her friends at increasing risk. She's using people and lying and all of the things that people who are addicted to drugs do, when they are actively addicted to drugs. It's going to be a trick to pull off, I think, keeping viewers engaged and liking Jackie, while at the same time staying true to what the experience of being/living with/loving an addict really is.  I'm sure many of you have had first-hand experience.

Also, and perhaps apropos of only this: in my tenure as a medical professional (and in my life) I've known several medical professionals who have been addicted to drugs.  I don't know if they are at increased risk or not, but they have more/easier access and so, it happens.  These assertions of mine are purely ANECDOTAL in nature, so take them for what they're worth (maybe NOTHING to science people, I'm saying.) The access to certain medications is really limited and there are means in place to uncover abuse, so in my experience, the person in question may actually be suspected of stealing meds. And sometimes the places/people for whom they work ask them to 'resign,' doing no formal drug testing or complaining to state agencies, and so the professionals are free to go and work elsewhere. 

The whole point of telling you this is to say that if you, or a loved one is in the hospital and had a medical procedure and feel like the pain medication isn't working, pay attention.  It may be, you know, saline.  It is highly unlikely but not outside the realm of possibility.  Also, if you or a loved one has a visiting nurse for home health care, hide the (good) medications somewhere.  Ahem.  If you are a nurse, you are likely not abusing drugs or taking your patients drugs or lying to your husband/wife/co-workers/family members. I KNOW.  I'm just saying, that Nurse Jackie is sooner or later going to hurt my heart.

Moving on.

United States of Tara is, perhaps, my very favorite portrayal of a person with a Diagnosed Mental Illness. Aside from the fact that her switching is very obvious and her alters are extremely dramatic in their presentation (both understandable in the context), I feel like Tara is portrayed like a real person in a real relationship with a real family.  I love how the show addresses each character's conflicts while maintaining their integrity as whole people.  Too often, I think, the portrayal of those with a Diagnosed Mental Illness are portrayed in a way that is wholly sensationalized and boils them down to ridiculous characitures.  And don't even get me started on what I think of most portrayals of therapy in general.

Anyway. 

Lastly, in this mish-mosh post of reeedonkulousness: I have fallen in LOVE with..um...kid's bento lunches? YES. Kid's BENTO. LUNCHES.

I stumbled upon this website, which I blame for a cascade of web-surfing research and subsequent dreams of cute little picks that look like bunnies and little pieces of fruit leather, cut out to look like stars. Not to mention eggs in the shape of animals! I KNOW.

There is so much in this world about which I am clueless.  CLUELESS!  I had no idea about this entire community, beautifying the world, one lunch at a time.

You're WELCOME. 

Fun Fact Friday!

* It is 6:23am.  My son woke up at 4something and warbled in his crib, sounding like a cross between a baby tiger and a musical saw.  My daughter woke up in the early Fives with the half-asleep-yelling-cranky-crazy-shit (which always, ALWAYS seems to end with the word: MOMMMMMMMYYYYYYYY!) only to have no idea what was wrong when I went in there.  The Man is taking the day off work today. AND SO, after a nursing in one room and a back tickle and a sip of water in the other room EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS HOUSE IS ASLEEP.

* I quit watching Grey's Anatomy, what? Three years ago, maybe?  It was all too much for me.  It was painful to watch the glooooom and the deprezzzzion and the whiiiiiining.  So, I was all pffftttt, DONE with Mer and Der and all that and I've never looked back.  Then, last night, Twitter went nuts about the season finale and so, this morning I googled and got the spoilers and you know what? NOT SORRY I quit it.

* For real and no shit, I was the subject of a graduate student's research. In the process, she recorded an interview, transcribed it, and blah blahblah, the long and short of it is that she sent me an email that had parts of the interview written out into different 'topics.' Seriously? I am the reason that she will be able to use the word 'Boobs,' and also...ALSO the word 'Shit' in her Master's Thesis.  Oh, I hope that she's grateful.

* I'm starving right now (up! since the FOURS!) but The Man and I have plans to take everyone to breakfast before we hit a THEME PARK to which we own SEASON PASSES.  That is all I shall say but I never wanted an egg sandwich more than I do RIGHT NOW.

* My dad has gone MOBILE.  If you are in the greater Philadelphia area, look out.  He got prisms for his glasses and the double vision is resolved with those and so he's been in his car, running short errands.

* In what I'm sure is related news: My dad is totally coming around and I couldn't be happier.  He has been staying at The Little Sister's house and right now, they are away.  I asked him how it was over there, curious to see if he liked the solitude again after a long time in the bustle of family life or if it would feel a little lonely.  He said, 'It's..quiet.'  I think he's starting to feel a little more connected to what's happening here.  The Little Sister said that if he did go back home right now, he'd probably sink into a major depression...being alone so much after living among real people and all.  I think she's right.  I think he does, too.

* He's also turning out to be quite the little Mother's Helper.  You know, like a 12 year old girl.  I'm saying, I wouldn't leave him alone with my children, but he can push the stroller or hold the bottle or run to the store to get me a can of tomatoes.  It is honestly a help.  Plus, I think he likes it.  He said on a walk yesterday, 'Eet seems like wherever I go now, I'm pooshing a stroller with me.'

Which, translated, means he likes it.

Me: Knock Knock

You: Who's there?

Me: My son.

You: My son, who?

Me: My son wiggles his little wrist back and forth and so it looks like he's knocking on EVERYTHING.  It's super silly and really cute, I tell ya.

Speaking of cute:

He's usually as happy as he looks right here.
Which, you know, IS HARD TO BELIEVE.

***

Since TLNG is [an avid Ni Hao Kai Lan watcher] the daughter of a therapist she often talks about Feelings.  In addition to being well-versed in Happy, Mad, Sad and Afraid, she is also familiar with Annoyed, Irritated and Frustrated. Ahem.

Anyway.

For the past week or so, she's been talking about my Feelings, while stroking the outer-most ridge of my ear.  When I inquired about it, she said, 'That's where your Feelings live.  That's where they go.'  I tried to explain to her that Feelings are invisible, that they are inside you and that you can't see them.  But she persisted.  Then, a couple days ago, at bedtime, she was again talking about my Feelings.  She was reaching through the bars at me, as I sat on her floor.  She gently pinched my earlobe between her fingers and said, 'This is where your Feelings go.'

....

??

And then I said, 'Do..do you mean earrings?'

And she said, 'Yes. Like Nanny wears.'

***

My dad put in an offer on a house. It's absolutely PERFECT for him.  It is move-in condition and everything he needs with nothing he doesn't.  He low-balled the first offer and the guy came back with a counter offer and then my dad had to *think about it* and then he countered and then the guy countered, so they were 10K apart and then my dad wanted to counter 2.5K, even though his top number was 5K and OH MY WORD, am I glad I am not a realtor who works for my dad, is what I'm saying.

They accepted the final offer, with settlement date of end of July.  So. The summer should be...um..interesting.

***

I have been making an effort to keep the house cleaner.  This translates into cleaning a lot in the evening and then collapsing into bed to read (Percy Jackson. I KNOW) before passing out to wake and do it ALL OVER again.  I am trying to find the ZEN of cleaning.  (I KNOW.  Whatever. Blah blah it'sajourney blaaah.)

***

My girl is in the midst of some [Mythical Hell-Beast Training] cognitive leap in development.  As is her custom, it is accompanied by [the most annoying, irritating and frustrating behavior on the planet] behavior and sleep disturbance.  But look at what she's drawing:

This is a self-portrait. She's holding Baby-Baby.

.

.

This is the rest of the family. OMG. Look at The Little Brother.

.

.

LOOK.

And, I know I'm biased, but I also think she's morphing into a Stunning Little Beauty, really.  

It's a good thing I'm not really all into the Kid Pageants, though, because I don't think she'd go for the fake eyelashes.
Tactile issues, you know.

***

Now, I have to go and fix my son a bottle, because he refused to nurse this morning. *sigh*

Me: Knock knock.

You: Who's there?

Me: ZOOM ZOOM.

Experiment. Or, If You Like, Practice.

So, the feedback on the last post was Pleasant! And surprising! And Pleasant!

It's nice to have internet friends who don't judge you or get sick of you saying the same shit over and over (or so you say NOW, heh) and so I'm going to try an experiment.  I'm just going to...you know...write.

My usual method of writing posts (believe it or not) is (generally) to have a more or less, fully formed idea and then to sit at the computer and write it, shape it and polish it up before I hit publish.  If you read me in a reader [you're like, 'what is her fucking DEAL?'] you may often see multiple 'publishes' on a lot of my posts. That..happens to me.  Still shaping after it's published.  (The internet equivalent of re-re-re-FUCKINGRE-recording voice mails before I'm satisfied. It's a Mental Glitch of the first order.)

So.

Today, I figured, let's try something [crazy] new and do a [rambling post with no purpose] stream of consciousness writing.

....

..

?

Um.

//

\\

/\/\/\/\////\

Welp. Let's call me a beginner.

I am taking my dad to the doctor today. He's doing pretty well, actually. (My dad, you know, not the doctor.) (Well, the doctor's probably doing well too, but WHATEVER.) I think that he may have found a house that he likes (!!) The heaviness and difficulty that will accompany the readying and selling of my childhood home is balanced (at least right now, when the paint rollers and dumpsters and hours upon hours of back breaking work are only in my IMAGINATION) by the floaty feeling I get from thinking of my dad living so close by that he can come for dinner, or trick-or-treating, or Thanksgiving AND Christmas morning AND whenever [all without his dog] and then go back to his own house, where he will (eventually) be comfortable.

I'm optimistic, as he's starting to look around at the street signs and try to figure out where things are in relation to other things (and lo, I have discovered from whence my ABYSMAL sense of direction hails) and he said, 'Well, I can just come down here and go do my shopping at ACME, eh?'  And I'm like, 'Dad. I can come and get you. And we can go together. And then I can drop you off at home with your groceries.' And he nodded, kind of surprised. And said, 'Save me on gas.'

It's hard for him, and in a collective sense, all of us, sometimes, to imagine the good things that will come out of the difficulties, I suppose.  The harder things are more evident to him.  Partly because they are so, So, SO challenging. Big-Ass Life Changers.  But too, I think, because they are all up front.  On the front end is the buying and the cleaning and shedding and organizing and moving and all that.  It's only after he's here, I think, and a little more comfortable that it will dawn on him the amazing opportunity he has to engage and be a real part of this family for which he worked so, so hard for so, so long.

And I hope to remember this feeling that I have. The feeling of so badly wanting him to be close to us, knowing that no parent wants to be a *burden* to his children.  But for me, moving him closer isn't the burden.  The REAL burden is the worry that I feel when he's that far away, well outside the reach of my [evil clutches] loving care.  Or the uprooting, driving, uprooting, driving, uprooting that we have to do when the inevitable bad things start happening.

I understand how he feels, I do.  But I also hope to remember how *I* am feeling now--in case I'm lucky enough to live that long--because one day, my kids might feel this same way.  

And I don't ever want to be a burden to them.

So, I Should Title It: The Same, The Same, Everything Is The Fucking Same.

It seems that when things get hectic for me, I shut down. Isolate. Make like a turtle and fucking Shell-Up. If you've been reading here for any length of time at ALL, you are like, 'Yeah. News flash of the effing CENTURY, that.'

Anyway.

Part of the reason, I think, that I drop off of writing when things are stressful for me is that there is a certain lack of movement.  For me, much of my own self-inflicted frustration and angst comes from not having enough motivation to create the inertia that is necessary for me to affect (effect?) some actual change.  For some people, I imagine that wanting to change and then doing the things that are required to make the change, is a more or less linear process.  They kind of decide, (or whatever their equivalent process is) and then they go all Nike and you know...Just do it, already.

Oh, how I covet this kind of personality trait.  Seriously. COV.ET.

Whether or not it's a trait that they got by DNA transfer or an ability that they've honed and shaped over years of steady practice...I don't know. It ELUDES me.  Consistency in many areas just..doesn't come naturally to me.  It is one of my most hated Mental Glitches and the one that has caused me the most angst, long term.

I start. And stop. And start. And forget. And start. And get side-tracked by some major fucking life event. And start. And want to tear out my hair. Aaaaaand, you get the idea.  It's fucking frustrating as hell.  And also? I'm sure Wicked Boring to read about.

So, I don't write.

Because, seriously.

Do you want to read about how I have to start over AGAIN with paying attention to what the hell I'm putting in my mouth? Or how I've yet to figure out to make working out a consistent part of my routine? Or how my temper is STILL giving me a problem and making me doubt my ability to EVER be a half-way patient parent? Or how my dad is still here, feeling depressed and facing huge life-changing decisions? Or how I'm still taking remedies that get stuck in my throat so that I can keep my boobies juicy?

Maybe you do and I am underestimating your [motivation to avoid your work] [masochistic tendencies] ability to commiserate and identify with my [groundhog's day life] issues.  Either way, I fear that I am testing your patience.  And not that I write this blog SOLELY for the readers and what it is that they want from me, but part of what drives me to write here is the interaction.  The communication.  The connection.

And I am just SO not interested in being that one friend you have who complains about the same shit over and over.

Because, DAMN, she's annoying. Ain't it?