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Archive for the ‘domestic insanity’ Category

Exhausted by 9 am

Do you ever wake up, drink a half of a cup of coffee, and then decide it’s high time to try to de-stink your couch?  Welcome to my morning.

We’ve been talking recently about the possibility of looking for a new place next spring.  This is imminently exciting and completely terrifying.  It is mostly completely terrifying because I realize that we will have to do a lot of minimizing if we’re going to have anyone in to look at the apartment.  Which, of course, is a painful reminder that we have a shit-ton of stuff.

I like my stuff, but I’m almost ready to admit that I have too much.  I can get rid of books with only a minimum of pain, and I’m cool with sending out bags upon bags of clothing and shoes.  It’s the little, pretty stuff I am totally in love with and purchase quite happily at just about every available moment.

There is also the little matter of project-makings.  This is harder because once projects are completed?  You still have something to make space for.

So in light of my flashes of ‘holy shit what am I going to do?’ I am also hit with the almost unstoppable desire to tackle something tangible.

This morning it is the sofa, which is now in a million pieces with the cushions airing outside and the cushion covers in various stages of defunking (half are halfway defunked, the others are waiting patiently.)  And as with every project of this nature, I am completely and totally over it.

Alas, I have no couch to collapse upon right now.

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  • My God, kids *need* all the time.  I think my head would explode if I got to change a diaper without the baby demanding to nurse while his sister calls me from the other room.
  • I currently have enough lettuce in my fridge to choke a rabbit and neither kid eats the stuff.  I’m going to overdose on salad.
  • Today I walked 2.3 miles and am more tired than I should be.  I need to start doing this more often before it gets stupid hot.
  • Strawberries!  One pint is already gone.  I’m going to have some more with the homemade flan once C gets home.
  • I think my new favorite thing is when people agree with me.  How sad is that?

That’s all I got, folks.  Pleas for attention, a fridge full of lettuce, sore calves and an inflated ego.  And flan.  Can’t forget the flan.

Oh also?  I have bok choy I need to prepare ASAP and no clue what to do with it.  Any ideas?

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I spend a lot of time feeling behind the curve on things.  This is in part due to being a pretty massive daydreamer who has to crash back to earth several times a day, and in part to being descended from folks who define slacking as any time spent not accomplishing a task.  This is something I really need to work on because sometimes slacking is a good thing.

I can only half-slack today though, because I have a fridge full of CSA goodies to wash and prep.  I am so relieved that the season has started, and not just because we got my beloved salad turnips.  There really is nothing like fresh, local produce.  Hells, I even forgot my lask of enthusiasm for strawberries last night because the farm ones were so damn good.

Then there are the two history chapters I have to read and the economics chapters and the heaping mound of laundry but I’m ignoring that right now 😛

It’s hard to remember sometimes that habits, even when they are ones that hurt you, are hard to overcome and the habit of telling yourself you aren’t doing enough is one of the hardest of all (and this is coming from an ex-smoker so I know from hard habits to break :P)

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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.

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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.

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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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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.

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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.

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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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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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I have yet again lost several days due to my inability to focus on one task at a time.  I will be sitting down today to work out a schedule because clearly I need more structure in my life.  It was a fun weekend, though, complete with a playdate, an afternoon spent playing board games (we never finished, thank you Bubby, although I was $18 million in debt and well on my way to losing, it was great fun.)  Lucy’s birthday celebration is set, favors ordered, menu planned.  I’ve been reading extensively about ayurveda in my down time and am thoroughly fascinated by it.  Good times.

It is finally not frigid and I am happy to not be sitting here in layers down to my socks.  We made it without turning the heat back on (remember, we get tons of passive heat from two sides so it never gets dangerously cold in here) and even had the playdate without heaters.  I am probably more pleased about this than I should be 🙂

I still have not implemented the menu plan (see paragraph one about routine) but here is the butternut squash with curried millet recipe for Jennifer.  I’d swear that I’d do it this week but I don’t feel like lying to you this early in the year.

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I have been spending a lot of time since my last entry thinking about growing up.  I don’t know if it’s my personality that makes me so eager to gain approval or if it’s because I was raised to believe that approval is the highest form of praise, but I have come to realize that I need very badly to deal with the fact that I just can’t please everybody, and it’s not a personal failing that I can’t.  It’s a sad denouement, set into motion long ago and winding down almost pitifully for the amount of pain it has caused me over the years.  It’s a curse, I think, when you lose someone close to you because you’re always left with the what-ifs or should-have-saids.  I can’t live like that anymore, worrying about displeasing people, worrying about offending them by saying the wrong thing, always feeling as though the ultimate consequence of disagreeing could be the inevitable regret of time lost.  Is this suitably cryptic?  What it really means is that I have to grow up now, stop being the little girl afraid of doing and saying the wrong thing.

I could stop being overly dramatic as well but what fun would that be?

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