Tuesday, March 30, 2010
25th passes. Now I am starting to sweat.
26th I must be pregnant, right? I take another pregnancy test. NEGATIVE. I shake it and look at the thing. Where did my period go? It's not something that you can just loose, like keys, is it?
28th passes. I wonder if I have a disease. I call my mother and tell her I'm dying from no period and that I'm sorry I wasn't a better daughter.
29th passes. My brow is furrowed all day long.
30th, the full moon arrives, and with it, long awaited AUNT FLO. I feel the need to announce this loudly in the bathroom at work, just like a two year old going potty in public for the first time. It was a triumphant moment. My coworkers, both men, want to know what I'm beaming about all of a sudden. We have a celebratory Mountain Is Not Pregnant coffee toast..."Salud!" "L'Chaim!" Yes, seriously.
So, we are fine. I had pneumonia, people, and I suppose that is enough to royally knock me off of my internal clock. All these people said,"you don't seem that sick", and now I know I was really sick because MY PERIOD WAS LATE FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER!!!!!! I must have been on the brink of death. My body literally didn't even know what day it was.
So, this is the great thing for which I am very grateful. Right now, I would love to be pregnant, and I would also be just as happy NOT to be pregnant. No harm, no foul. The agony was in the not knowing. Yes, I did actually refer to myself as The Barren Queen in conversation, that was like, only once.
love and light,
I've been playing with several template ideas since the kids went to sleep. Just because it looks like this tonight doesn't mean it is a finished product. It is kind of like looking at my lego creation...and I'm still building! This tool is so easy to play with, I may have a new design for every day of the week!
I am so spoiled. I came home from a work in a very negative mood, like I usually do, and both of my girls made me pictures that say "I love you" and "you are the best mom" and my man even brought me Ben and Jerry's, served to me in the bubble bath. (((sigh))) (((perfect))))
I have a little thing about losing my keys. I think there is a problem in my brain. Actually, I'm quite sure of it. Tonight my little one looked at a picture of Alicia Keys on the cover of a magazine and said,"Is that Alicia Keys? Her last name is Keys? Does that mean if you went shopping with her, you would lose her?"
I didn't share my icecream with her.
I hope you evening was lovely, too!
Love and Light,
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Freegans are people who employ alternative strategies for living based on limited participation in the conventional economy and minimal consumption of resources. Freegans embrace community, generosity, social concern, freedom, cooperation, and sharing in opposition to a society based on materialism, moral apathy, competition, conformity, and greed.-Freegan.info
They had a print making workshop, and I may not be 8 years old, but I participated gleefully, thank you. Here is my print.
Here is the top part of the huge, amazing fountain that I rescued from the trash the other day.
Yesterday, while helping out on the paper route, I screamed,"Stop the car! Fucking insane Americans are throwing away canvases still in the wrappers!" Look at this haul, people! It wasn't even my birthday! That's an easel in the wrapper, too!
Here are the kids, inspired by their museum trip, painting. The little boy is our neighbor, and my buddy. He has the most genuinely positive attitude of anyone I know. He is the subject of my print. Doesn't it kinda sorta look like him?
Elder Daughter's Hanna Anderson dress? Free, too! It was lovingly handed down by another little girl who had outgrown it. I've said it before and I'll say it again, whether you are buying or re-using, I highly recommend Hanna Anderson. Those little dresses seem like they are made of galvanized steel...completely indestructible, soft comfortable and well-suited for real life.
I drove to Walmart yesterday for the first time in about six months...cat litter and laundry soap was calling me. Do you have a recipe for homemade laundry soap? The re-use children's clothing store is gone. The used bookstore is gone. The candle store is gone. The kitchen supply store is gone. Empty storefronts and for rent signs dot the main drag. About half of our friends are out of work. When I get down about not being able to provide the lifestyle I grew up with to my children, my mother tells me,"hunker down and wait it out. Be thankful you have a job and don't stick your neck out too far."
We live on a tiny income, but we also live in a time when so many are relearning the simple ways. The time has truly come.
Free Sunday Things I Love:
- Mountain Stage Radio Show
- Public Parks, just now showcasing daffodils and magnolia buds
- Making Love
- Free Day at The Art Museum
- New York Times Magazines (free if your married to the paperboy!)
- Make Cookies. Borrow Baking Powder from a neighbor.
- Sit Out Front in a Wicker Chair With a Cup of Tea. Smile at dog walkers going by
- Read Twilight, and feel totally cliche doing it, but forced to soothe your (my) curiosity, and then really enjoy it, and then feel mundane for enjoying it
- Watch Your Beautiful Yet Nocturnal Husband Sleep, and take his picture
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Diane is a Christian with a capital C, and one heck of a lover of all kinds of people. I am a meandering Wiccan who lately hangs out with Buddhists, a tattoo artist, and I say "fuck" a lot, yet Diane's compassion even extends to me. We do share many of the same interests, though. I really care about raising compassionate children. I love to do things the old fashioned way. I want to learn about homemaking, because I've got a home and I've got no one else to make it, and I have learned a lot from Diane's tips and tricks. We also are both SERIOUSLY anti-consumerist (pro-simplicity?) and we both have more than one daughter who is !awe-some! But now is the time where I am going to give a very high compliment. Diane incorporates her faith in all that she does, and she makes me FEEL loved and in the spirit, without ever, ever judging me.
Now, I came to think about this because I was surfing around in blogland, and I came upon bunches of Christian ladies who are wow-with-the-nasty. This one lady (who's name I won't mention, I really don't know her at all, I just stumbled in!) was talking about this book about organizing. The book used the term ZEN, said the lady, but don't worry, because it wasn't really Buddhist. Its just that zen is the new way to say,"I'm from LA," but she was sure that no one in LA could relate to her because who in LA even BREASTFEEDS????
Dear readers, far be it from me to defend Los Angeles, but I personally breastfed while residing in that city. I'm just saying. Haters, if you are reading along in a perfectly nice book and you stumble across the word Zen, it won't bite you and infect you with Zen-leporsy. Zen is a pacifist.
All that being said, Welcome Back, Diane! I know you are not a hater, and have never even had Zen-leporsy.
Yes, I'm in a rare mood.
It's just that child rearing has really backed me into a corner lately. I was just interrupted mid-rant by my little one saying,"Mama, did I have leukemia when I was a baby?"
"NO! Who told you that!?"
I didn't really need to ask. There are only three people at home, and that makes Older Daughter the culprit.
"Did you tell her she had leukemia?"
"Can you please not tell your sister that she had leukemia because she never did?"
Now they are singing the alphabet. In spanish.
The alphabet is easy to learn! Yeah! Get down!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
(I'm totally bluffing. I'm not going anywhere. I'm addicted.)
I discovered a colossal garden fountain. Someone was throwing it away and I rescued it from the side of the road while walking home from girl scouts. It looks like stone, but its really some kind of plastic, and it has a lion's head that water spurts out of. Pretty cool. It is right now residing in the back of my truck. It's huge. You could baptize a baby in it. I NEEDED one of those.
My daughter's school choir sang that Fireflies song that's on the radio at their concert last night. It was nice. They had bells. Today's children don't even KNOW the retarded songs we had to sing in elementary school choir. They were painfully dumb. If someone told us we could sing a song that was on the radio, we would have passed out.
My husband and I had planned to move this spring, but recently decided not to. I was intimidated by the concept of moving us all right now. I'm glad to postpone for the time being. Maybe I'll feel like it at the end of summer.
I asked my daughter if she would please shoot me when I became so old that I forgot what I was doing in the middle of providing my phone number, and she said,"I will NOT shoot you! I will love you and I will write your phone number on your hand!" Awww! She will not shoot me!
I had dinner at Cali Burrito. It's my ~*`*'~*Favorite*~*`*'~. I had two tacos that have crunchy shells wrapped in soft shells, with black beans inside, pico de gallo, cheese, tomatoes and lettuce, with homemade salsa on the side. In the past week, I have had TWO meals with meat. I'm going in a good direction, folks.
I'm going to a women's circle next week at the place where we went to the Equinox Fire Circle. I'm embarrassed with over-eagerness.
Today was a day that seemed like a total loss. The thing is, I was really, truly convinced that I would have it together as an adult, and it turns out I am one thousand times more awkward and self-conscious now than I was at 13. How IS that? My mother always gave the impression of being in total and complete control, perfect credit and shiny kitchen floors. Where are my shiny kitchen floors? Did I drop my poise and sophistication at the laundromat?
Even though I feel like I am in a constant state of disarray, I've got sweetness all over the place if I take the time to notice it. Maybe MORE than my mother did. I'm a beautiful mess.
What was sweet in your day?
***PS-I'm having trouble with blogger and/or this template. I'm sorry for the fonts being messed up, and the links not being in order, etc. I'm working on it.
Love and light,
Monday, March 22, 2010
by: Elder Daughter, The Awesome
We discovered that my little daughter's teacher is a Tibetan Buddhist, and she invited us to a seasonal fire ceremonyHERE. The website shows the house, but it doesn't show the lovely rolling, wild hills going in all directions around the house. We drove up a road, off a road, off a road, and with every curve my heart beat faster. "YES," it sang. "This would be what you have been looking for." I had friends all around me. I invited some neighbors along with kids close to my children's age, and when we arrived we found many people we knew already from school.
The ceremony was taught to the leaders by Incas in Peru, but it was surprisingly similar to what I have followed for the past 15 years in studying Wicca. There was a fire. There were drums. The corners were called and released. We thanked God. We reminded ourselves how lucky and grateful we are to be here. We asked for healing.
He has never been to a ceremony with me before. Can you even BELIEVE that? I tell you, I've been letting ceremonialism lapse altogether, but to think that we have been together for four years and never attended a circle together is eye-opening. A beautiful thing about our relationship is that we allow each other a lot of space. It was the only way we could work with our very different, very full lives.
During the ceremony, every one was invited to put a stick in the fire. My husband did not put his stick in the fire, and I started to worry,"Does he think this is dumb? Is he bored? Does he want to go home?" When we were in the car on the ride home, I said," Thank you for coming with me. You don't have to come again if you don't want, but it meant a lot to me that you did. How come you didn't participate in the ceremony? Did you feel weird about the whole thing?"
He said,"Let me think because I want to say this right." I started to panic. He went on to say,"I saw that this was a very spiritual moment for everyone there. There was no one who was, like, halfway doing it. I don't really understand the tradition, so I wanted to watch. I didn't want to cheapen the thing by participating half-heartedly or without understanding what I was doing. I think of it like visiting another church, but not taking communion."
Oh! my heart swelled for him so much when he said that. Oh! I fell in love with him all over again.
I took away a lot from the ceremony. The drumming allowed me to get into a trance state and really open up for the first time in a long time. I (re)learned that I am a part of everything, and everything is God, so hating myself is really hating everything which is hating God. The drumming came to mean,"I! Love! My! Self! I! Am! A! Part! Of! Earth!" I relearned that being a spiritual woman is a huge part of who I am and when I don't fulfill this obligation I am unhappy. I've already tattooed this concept on my neck, yet I STILL have to be reminded.
I filled up with love for my children and my husband and my community and nature, and really,really, is there anything else? I learned that I don't have to try and control everything. Life comes to me, and I can relax at always trying to drive it alone. I kind got a good shake from Grandmother Cosmos, who told me to WAKE UP! You are too grown to be pretending you don't know who you ARE!
So, feeling that Wiccan tradition may be exhausted for me, I've found myself an invitation into Tibetan Buddhism and Incan Shamanism. I never thought myself a Buddhist because I thought I am too exuberant! Who can smile beatifically in meditation all day? Not me! I like the whooping and hollering of Paganism, but I think this chance is too good to pass up. I'm gonna check out the women's circle, and see if I can go.
I am so happy and proud and grateful that I finally get to raise my children however I want to. The custody battle hobbled me in so many more ways than you might imagine. Everything I did was to please a social worker, rather than to please my moral values. I dressed to please the social worker;I got a job to please a social worker; I decorated my home to please a social worker; I suppressed my spiritual curiousity to please a social worker; I sent my kids to public school to please a social worker; I chose a pediatrician to please a social worker...it really is sick and sad, and I am so happy that is OVER!
I knew that I would be happy again once spring came.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Mine turned out sort of depressing, but where else can someone be truly morose than in self-reflexive poetry?
I am so tired that I want to cry.
I wonder when I will feel strong and light again.
I hear the life-breath in my watery lungs.
I see pneumonia leaving me.
I want pneumonia gone.
I am so tired that I want to cry.
I pretend that I feel strong and light again.
I feel like a stone bouncing down a pebbly incline.
I touch the ground, spinning and bumping.
I worry that I will stay a stone.
I cry because I'm rolling, rolling, rolling down.
I am so tired.
I understand that healing is coming.
I say nothing. I have to save my breath.
I dream of swimming, light and strong, laughing and splashing
I try to float, but always I am rolling down.
I hope pneumonia will soon leave me.
I am so tired that I want to cry.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
And this is the remake that I heard on the radio today THAT TOTALLY BLEW MY MIND.
I heard this on the local non-profit radio station. Philly's XPN is available for streaming, if you aren't around here, and it absolutely the best radio station ever created. My husband and I are in agreement that Rhiannon Giddens is not even real. How does she sing AND fiddle like that? And it doesn't even stop there. She sings Gaelic madrigals, too.
And now, folks, the miracle of the day: My husband DANCED. Thank you, Carolina Chocolate Drops. I salute you. Here is the song that can sway even devoted non-dancers-
As a rule, my husband does not dance. When we were married, I had to lead, and that was the last time he swayed to the music. He is a white, northeastern Metalhead, and dancing is just not part of this culture. Sure, sure, his grandfather was Puerto Rican, but my husband, sadly, did not get one single dancing gene. He did, however, get the big butt appreciating gene, and for that I am eternally grateful. This song moved whitey to grab a honey and spin her around.
Just the other day I was making fun of my husband's redneck style, and he pointed a skinny finger at me and said,"You better give up on trying to deny your redneck heritage if you like this music!" "Yes, my grandmother's family is from West Virginia, but WHAT IS YOUR EXCUSE!?" He doesn't really look like a redneck. Lately he's been wearing this army coat, and he looks more like Deniro. From Taxi Driver. (((Shaking my head sadly)))
What? KrAzY is a style! Can you see it? Imagine the green army coat. If you move the mohawk to a goatee, you've got my man. Maybe it's the chronic insomnia that creates that look. I've heard that DeNiro, a method actor, didn't sleep during the filming of Taxi Driver, and well, you know that my husband is either a ninja or a vampire, and has no need for sleep. Unconditional love, baby. This would be a great time for me to do a photoshop cut and paste of hubby's head on DeNiro's body, but that will go on the pile of creative ideas that I had that I don't have time to excute. It's a big pile.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
My sleep life is wonderful. Last night I dreamed that my husband was the promoter for a huge heavy metal rave in a warehouse. There was black room after black room filled with bands and party people in weird costumes. There were zaftig naked women painted to look like cats. There was a band that was playing on mattresses and singing heavy metal songs very quietly in whispery voices as if they were lullabies.
Brittany Spears was there, and a few friends from high school, and a few current friends. I was trying to get to the back of the building because I knew my husband was working there, but I kept running into people and interesting things and getting sidetracked. I was wearing lime green high heels, and a blue scarf with skulls on it on my head. It was entirely real, and when I woke up I felt like I had been out all night, and not asleep in bed at all. I came home from work halfway through the day. Why WHY can't I live in my imagination? Having a body is such a bore. I certainly hope that this is my last incarnation into a meat suit.
I'm getting into dangerous territory with missed work. Because I have not been at my current job a year yet, I do not qualify for FMLA, which would allow me the flexibility I need. I really need flexibility all the time, being a parent, and just being me. Shockingly, me and corporate america aren't a great fit.
I was remembering that not long ago my husband and I were fighting every day. Now I can't even remember what all that was about. I have been thinking a lot about the beauty of his jaw. Today he left a love note in my truck for me to find on my way home from work. This disease is forcing me to let go of everything. I don't have the energy. I don't have the energy to find matching socks in the morning, let alone formulate an argument. Maybe that is what it feels like to be really old,"I'm really pissed off at you right now....um....but it's gone now....what were we talking about?"
I feel the same about work. "I hate this job...oh, look, donuts...lalala." It is good not to think so much. I have to save my creativity for dreaming.
My kids kick ass.
It was the little one's birthday. My husband planned the entire day for her because I had to work, plus pneumonia. He has been planning to run wrestling birthday parties, so this was good practice for him. He borrowed some wrestlers and some neighbor children and put on a show for the kids, and then let the kids play in the ring. He put a suitcase way high above the ring with presents inside, and then claimed the heel had stolen all the birthday presents. Inside the suitcase were dozens of comic books for all the kids to share. SO COOL, and I missed it, of course. Still, the kids had a great time, and my husband was a hero.
It is now 9:46 and I feel like it is four in the morning. Everything is so exhausting. Breathing is exhausting, but I am doing pretty well. I have had a string of nice days and things seem to be looking up. I'm not in terrible pain or anything.
Things Little One Got For Her Birthday:
-A secret agent spy v-tech video game that looks like a laptop
-a webkinz mama and baby lamb.
-earrings in a fancy box from Paris, France
-a bathingsuit and beach stuff
-a diary with a lock
-a really cool doodle book
-48 pieces of sidewalk chalk
-a tinkerbell desk set
-pocky (japanese candy)
-tickets to Alice in Wonderland in 3D (yes, it was awesome)
Things The Homeopath is Treating Me For
2)healing from the damaging drugs I chose to take like zoloft and codeine
3)uplift for depression
4)balancing and drainage for my ears and for moving out of my rut
Things I Saw in My Most Amazing Dream Last Night
-a blue tiled metro station
-a waterslide that went over a highway
-an artisan's mall where each kiosk had really cool glass and tile mosaics over the top
-a fancy restaurant
Children's Books I Have Recently Read While Trying To Get Better (I have the children trained so that I can just bellow and they bring me another one)
-The 18th Emergency by Betsy Byars
-Skylark by Patricia MacLachlan
-Jet Getaway and Other Amazing Escapes by Thomas G. Gunning
-A Haunting In Williamsburg by Lou Kassem
-It Couldn't Happen To Me, Three True Stories Of Teenaged Moms by Beth Johnson
Ok, guys. I'll try to have something more intelligent to talk about soon. Really.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Pneumonia is an abnormal inflammatory condition of the lung. It is often characterized as including inflammation of the parenchyma of the lung (that is, the alveoli) and abnormal alveolar filling with fluid (consolidation and exudation).-wikipedia
I HAVE THAT!
Don't worry, I'm not dying. I'm not even horribly ill and green and gasping for breath in a white linen victorian nightgown, with my dark hair tumbling about me and blood on my lace handkerchief.
I just felt reeeeeeeeeeeeeaally sick and reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaally tired. I had this cough, and when I coughed, it felt like an ax was hitting my head. But I'm not coughing like, all the time. I'm coughing only sometimes, and I was going for walks in the park and stuff yesterday. I was in the grocery store, and I was talking to insurance companies and making doctors appointments, etc. I talked to the homeopath and I drank some super vitamin c drink, and I thought, "Hey, look at me! I'm on the road to recovery!" I was even planning on going to work for a half day today.
Then I went to the doctor and he said,"Pneumonia." I was astounded because I think of pneumonia as gasping for breath in a hospital bed. I have pneumonia with a small p, I guess.
I have these new, shiny insurance cards, and I was on a roll with using them, so I also took myself to the dentist FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TEN YEARS. What? You don't go to the dentist with pneumonia? Buck up, kid. I like to bundle all of my suck into one fun filled day. That little sharp thing that they stabbed in my tender, sweet, virgin gums HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER until I told myself that it felt just like being tattooed, and that I can handle it and relax. I did have the instinct the shove the hygienist roughly, but I didn't. Really. I didn't.
My wisdom tooth, only one, thank god, is growing in sideways under the skin inside my jaw . Not crooked. Completely sideways. The roots go to the left and the crown goes to the right. Do you think this could be the cause of all of my sore throat/ear/sinus misery? Well, I guess we will find out because I have an appointment with SURGEON!!!! SURGEON!!!! Sorry, I'm afraid of that word. Let's not talk about it.
The rest of the day I slept. This was different from all of the other days this month that I slept. This time I did not feel guilty because I have FRICKIN' PNEUMONIA people! I can sleep and read children's books and eat girl scout cookies all I want now.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Me-"You are the best kid in THE WORLD!"
Her-"No, I can't be the best kid in the world because all the moms think their kid is the best kid in the world, and then no one really knows who the best kid in the world is."
Me-"Yes I do know! You! Duh!"
So, you know all those people who have blogs that are all like, "My life is so BEAUTIFUL! Look at my beautiful children! And my beautiful dog! And my beautiful toilet paper dispenser! I'm so funky/cool/crafty/kind/proactive!" Well, this is not one of them. At Mountain's house, we will tell you if shit stinks. Today was fucking excrutiating.
F U C K I N G! E X C R U T I A T I N G!
There are some days with depression that are physically painful. Today was one of them. I came home from work, kissed my family, and flopped down on my bed. I was looking, again, for the answers to all of my problems on the bedroom ceiling. The girls came tumbling in with a big birthday bag overflowing with gifts.
"Look what we got!"
"What the heck!? Where!?"
"You know the nice lady in the apartment across the street? She GAVE it to us!"
"Let me see that..."
Tumbling out came a tin of tea, a lavender filled eye mask, some lovely bubble bath, some stationary, a candle, and three gift cards! With money on them!
Little one in hand, I marched myself across the street, into the apartment vestibule, and rang the buzzer. My neighbor buzzed us in and we marched up the black and white tiled steps to her door.
"Did you give this to my kids!?"
"This is really good stuff! These are your birthday presents! There are gift cards! With money on them!"
"Ok, so you have to take them."
"No, I gave them to your girls."
"No, you have to take them."
"No, I gave them to your girls."
"Oooh, Mommy! She has a kitty..."
"Be nice to the cat. You have to take these back!"
We went back and forth. It turns out that these were gifts that she was given a long time ago by people that she doesn't like. She kept them in the bag because she didn't want to look at them and now she wants to purge herself of them. I couldn't get her to take them back. I really did try.
So, my day started excrutiating, but it ended up like Christmas. Can you even BELIEVE that? We decided that we will buy her a gift with the gift certificates and surprise her back. You never really know, though, do you? You never know what a day will bring.
I found three things in the bag for three of my cubicle cellmates. I'm going to pay it forward tomorrow.