Archive for May, 2009

Ah Tuesday Thursday, duh…, pizza day.  I love pizza day, where I can look at the clock creeping up on 8 am and not yell “oh shit!” and run into the kitchen to throw some food in Lucy’s lunch box.

There is a list of things to do today but I am starting out slow this morning.  There will be plenty of time for rushing around tomorrow; for now, I want to have some chill time before the craziness (for those new to these parts, this is what I mean by craziness).  I’m trucking along with my to-do list, with my reading for my classes, with the apartment–everything but the actual preparation to head out of town.  This is mostly because I have to go buy new dress shoes today.  I’m not a fan of dress shoes.  I do have to keep reminding myself that my children are going to be so cute that nobody even notices me 😛

Ok, so the other reason for my sudden dress-angst is that I am keenly aware that there are stores full of the most beautiful saris a mere express subway stop away and they make my 50’s pink cocktail dress look really…plain.  I wouldn’t wear a sari, much as I’d love to, but after window-shopping last weekend, I have to say that Western evening wear is decidedly boring by comparison.

And this isn’t even covering how much I HAVE NO IDEA what to do with my three feet of hair.  Srsly.

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One of the (many many many) funny things about teh blawging is being able to look back at your emotional state at various points and laugh at yourself.  This is coming in very handy right now as I look at my course work for the summer term and cry… er…freak out… er…plan out when I’m going to do everything since just yesterday I was reading about how four classes were JUST! TOO! MANY! and I would never do that to myself again.  It’s really hard to convince yourself that you are going to fail miserably due to taking on too much work when the last time you were convinced you were going to fail miserably due to taking on too much work you succeeded wonderfully.

My name is Jen and I blog to keep my sanity.  It even works sometimes.

Anyhow, I have cycled through freaking out and back to excitement (and really, isn’t that one of the biggest bitches about anxiety–its emotional proximity to excitement?  I’m going to be very, very busy this summer but it’s going to be really nice to come out 6 credits closer to teh degree, right?


I woke up somewhere between 4 and 5 am, a casualty of the bane of co-sleeping–diaper overflow.  The sky was somewhere between indigo and blue and the air was chilly enough to make curling up with warm baby and warm blanket feel like heaven.  In the moments before I drifted back to sleep, I was so thankful to have been awake at that moment, to have that sensory experience to remind me of how precious this all is.


I am playing catch up today as soon as I finish screwing around on the internet since I decided to spend the day with myself yesterday.  It was lovely to sit around and do crosswords without having anyone interrupting me, but I am left feeling a little like I skipped class and am due to get in trouble.  It’s the decadence of sitting in your own home and not working on the to-do list I think.  Had I gone out, I probably wouldn’t be feeling quite like I’m trying to get away with something.

Truth be told, I sort of like playing catch-up.  It makes me feel important to have a long list of things to do.  Someday I won’t need a long to-do list to feel important but for now I’m working with what I’ve got.

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Seriously, trying to write with two maniac children directly behind me is trying my ability to concentrate.

Last night was filled with those dreams that straddle reality and not-reality.  At one point I woke up panic-stricken that the dress I got for the wedding we’re attending next weekend is…unsuitable.  The husband assures me it is cute but I tend to not trust his opinion in such matters for, although he has an excellent eye when it comes to esthetics, he tends to see things as ‘cute’ that are more ‘frumpy’ or ‘lumpy’ when it comes to me.  Namely my big ole babygut.  I may be hauling out to Marshalls today in search of something less clingy (or clingy in better places) that is also breastfeedable.  No wait, that sounds wrong.  Something in which I can breastfeed.


My monstrous to-do list for the break is, mercifully, commensurate to the time left in my break.  Meaning, I will actually manage to get everything crossed off in time to start classes tomorrow.  This pleases me greatly.  More importantly, I did not leave until the last minute those tasks I was most dreading, which means that today will not suck.  There will be planting and organizing in the kids’ room and shredding and perhaps a decoupage project if I am feeling crafty.

Which I’m really not right now.


I am very excited about sending Lucy back to school tomorrow my classes starting.  I will probably be less excited come tomorrow night when I have assignments and reading and stuff, but at the moment I’m going to bask in the anticipation.

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A few steps behind

You know you’re old when two beers over three and a half hours renders you feeling ever so slightly woozy the next morning.  Gah.  This has left me feeling one of my least favorite things–behind schedule.

I am compulsively punctual.  Being late delivers an almost electric shock to my system, like a lab rat’s conditioning.  This morning I woke up with a combination of that flash of “what the hell did I do last night?” and “holy shit, I’m late.”

It was the quickest I’ve gotten out of bed in a long time, and the quickest I’ve packed Lucy’s lunch, done her hair (this will undoubtedly show) and made coffee.  The adrenaline is just wearing off, but I am left with a feeling like I went on a bender on a work night instead of staying up to watch Countdown.


I have 5 days until classes start for the summer and a huge list of things I wanted to do.  Today I think I’ll either take my knitting outside or put my loom together.  I feel a little like making something and a little like being outside so, you know.

Stupid two beers ate my brain.

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Taking Care

Sometimes it’s easy to forget the importance of taking care of yourself.  We’re bombarded with ways to do this–spas, new bras, the latest spring fashions, waxing, chocolate.  It’s constant.  These things, no matter how nice, aren’t ever going to do the trick.

Inside we are still the children we once were.  We need nourishment, protection from the cold and heat, and love.  But we forget to treat ourselves like these children when we get sad or angry or lonely, even though it is at these times that we are the most childlike.  We forget to parent ourselves.  Think about it.  If your kid came home from school upset because she got teased, what would you do?  Would you take her to the mall for a new pair of shoes or would you give her a hug and remind her of how special she was?

As adults, we don’t seem to understand how much we can grow and flourish when we have support and love.  For some of us, this is because we haven’t felt loved and supported in the way we need.  The thing we most need to realize is that the love and support is there, always.  Part of the journey of life is finding it, and part of our growth as people is in order to learn to love and support ourselves.

Next time you feel like you need to be taken care of, think about that child inside of you.  What does she need most?  Don’t mistake the joy of treating yourself for the joy of loving yourself.

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The baby has discovered force.  Force of his throwing arm, force of his little half-fist, force of his voice.

It is not my favorite stage, I have to admit.  It’s not the worst, but the noise.is.driving.me.crazy.

The throwing isn’t fun either.  Makes the decision to go with wooden toys come right back to bite me in my hippy ass. Although I must admit plastic toys aren’t much softer.

I’m trying, though–trying not to lose my temper too many times, not to let that feeling of frustration creep up my spine until it comes shooting out of my mouth.  I’m trying to remember to relax my shoulders and shake the tension out of my hands.  I’m trying but some days are not so good.  It’s the age, not knowing what to do with myself without classes, the allergies–a whole garden of factors.  But hell, today seems to be ok so I’m going to slide off of this track and back to my good morning.


The little voice in my head has been shouting as well.  Most recently, the shouting is about getting rid of…this crap I’m carrying around.

After firing the therapist, day-tripping to Jersey, a stop by the pediatrician and an evening with Krishna Das, I spent much of yesterday wound into a tight little wad of tense.  I snapped at the kids, I snapped at the cats, I snapped at myself–all until I passed out with the baby on the couch while Lucy played on the computer.  I have been feeling very tired lately.  Sleeping, thinking about sleeping, dreaming about…well, you get the idea.

When I woke up, I looked down at my pants and realized that I hate them.  I have three pairs of the same ones, and I cannot stand the way the look on me.  I looked at the toys hanging out of the basket and realized they could all be put elsewhere.  I bagged up a bunch of baby toys to donate.  I got rid of a bunch of recyclables I’ve been saving for craft projects for the last year.

I’m starting to wonder if I’m so tired because I carry these things with me all the time–all of these “maybe I’ll use them someday” things and “it would be such a waste” things.  I wonder how much I let myself off the hook for bringing new things into my life because I don’t “waste”.

This time when I’m getting rid of things, I need to seriously think about this because it just doesn’t feel like I get any relief from getting rid of, and there must be a reason for this.


The voice in my head also likes to shout at me for not using the things I’ve gotten.  This week’s big project is going to be using all of the planters I had to have last year (and the year before.)  I have enough seeds to make a go of it, and the ones I don’t think I’m going to use…I don’t know.  But this is yet another thing weighing me down.  I think maybe it isn’t the stuff that is such a problem.  It’s knowing that it all represents something I didn’t follow through on.

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Today is the day.  It’s been coming for a couple of months; first I stopped talking about her, and then I started dreading our “dates.”  Finally I caught myself rolling my eyes behind her back and cringing every time she started to offer feedback.  Sure, we had some good times but the phone calls in the middle of sessions, stopping me mid-sentence to tell me there was something with my insurance but you couldn’t remember what?  I can’t just ignore those things anymore.  Don’t worry, “my ego is strong”, you always say.  I’ll be fine.

I’m breaking up with my therapist.

See, I sat down yesterday with all of my insurance paperwork and made a spreadsheet.  My insurance seems to have stopped covering my visits and I wanted to see exactly where I stood with payments.  And the answer is, my therapist owes me money.

Yeah.  OWES ME.  And that’s with 5 visits not covered.

Say what?

She told me my copay was $12 per visit.  It’s $6.  She filed claims for at least 2 weeks I cancelled and didn’t make up.  And she filed 5 extra visits in the month of December which were paid.  She’s filed claims for the same 4 September visits thrice–they were paid in October.

I don’t often ever side with an insurance company but I would stop paying too.

It’s the right time, though.  She really does answer the phone in the middle of session, and she did stop me to tell me the insurance company sent a letter.  She is wildly unprofessional in a zilion different ways which I overlooked while therapy was helping me but here we are over 6 months in and I don’t even have a diagnosis, she hasn’t addressed dealing with my anxiety except to suggest visualizing a rainbow pushing out all of the bad feelings, and frankly I don’t feel like I can get anything more out of seeing her.

I am just non-confrontational enough to be completely dreading this despite knowing how good it will feel to get it over with.

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I have officially been done with my classes since 2:03 pm on Saturday.  Not that I was counting or anything.  Let the partying commence!

By partying I mean organizing.  I am proud to say that I will be using my day of childcare to dig through last years’ summer stuff and (hopefully) pack up a ton to dispose of.  I am also hoping to tackle the crap on the balcony so that we can start to enjoy it again.  Maybe a bit ambitious but what the hell.  I realized yesterday that I have to get some place set up where I can enjoy quasi-nature and our balcony has the potential to be a nice little oasis if I can just get stuff planted and st up out there.  I only say this every year and never do it.  I’m going to clean this keyboard too; it’s really gross.

Maybe I’ll try to get one room of the house organized every day until my classes start up again.  See, Party!

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In no particular order:

  • Finished both exams and two of the three final papers, including the one for extra credit I couldn’t bring myself to blow off.  It still needs editing but what the hell, it’s extra credit.
  • Did quite well on botany exam, not as well on lab exam but I’m still pretty happy.  I really learned a lot in those classes and my interest in herbal medicine has been re-piqued (is that a word?)
  • Teas!  One of the mothers from Lucy’s school gave me some chrysanthemum tea and it is heavenly.  I forgot how good tea is when it’s good quality.   I of course went crazy and ordered a handful of other types–lychee, rose, jasmine oolong and jasmine green tea.  I tried the rose tea last night and it is absolutely divine.  What a  nice treat for myself!  I am so over grocery store teas 😛
  • I cannot wait for the semester to be over.  Seriously, this week has been exhausting and I’m not even that stressed out.
  • Rain can suck it.

Ok, that’s enough slacking.  Send good paper-writing vibes.

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I had a Karate Kid moment whilst sitting on the john this morning (aka the Seat of Knowledge).  See, I’ve been feeling like all I do is writing for other people.  Like I’m never going to feel like just *writing* again.  Like maybe I’m not cut out for this writing thing anyway.  Then it hit me…wax on, wax off.  No, wait.  I want the glamor of writing but I really hate the stupid mechanical exercises that I’ve had to engage in.  Poetry analysis.  Discussion questions.  Peer review that bears no resemblance to workshop review.  Writing new scenes for existing plays.  The things that improve your writing but in the least satisfying ways.

I have been painting the fence when I want to be kicking someone’s ass.

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