Things have been pretty freaking awesome around here lately. I have a buncha stuff to do, heaps, in fact. Important things like making sure we can pay our car insurance (this may be a problem) and making sure our kids have medical coverage. I am slightly annoyed because I a) didn't think the insurance thing would be an issue because I thought the government knew we had two kids now and was giving us 2x our whopping universal child cafe benefit (no dice?) and b) because Andrew and I each dropped a ball getting rigby's MSP (provincial medicare) forms filled out and sent. He forgot to include a form and I forgot to fill out a section. I'm pulling my hair out trying to remember if we signed our taxes before I so smugly mailed them off a couple of weeks ago.
But all that aside, things have been cool. My family has remained pretty well-fed (with a few understandable, but expensive, slips), we've been getting in an appropriate amount of social encounters, we've been pretty harmonious in the home and my son is on the brink of being fully toilet-literate. Today he pooped on the pot all by himself. It was amazing. He's also re-gaining some nap-time independence, the last week I've been able to put him down in his room and leave him to fall asleep on his own. I've told him that he can choose not to nap, but the consequence of not taking his nap is that his collection of matchbox cars (and trucks and big-rig) will be taken away for two days. This is a common consequence, having a toy taken away for two days, and it seems to work well for us. It gives him an idea of choice and consequence, while giving him a consequence he can grasp, since "you'll be crabby and mom might go crazy by 4" wasn't all that motivating. He thinks I'm funny when I get flustered.
I was doing rewards for a while, but it got to a point where he would just choose to forgo the reward in exchange for funtime with crazy mom (often a few hours of dvds/books/toy tossing and snacks). It was hell. So, the consequence - I really hope it works because neither of us is ready for him to give up his nap.
Wednesday, February 20
Monday, February 18
lovely
Morning poem #1 by the beautiful and talented Amanda of this always opens to the story within and prettyfnmess.
cold coffee day
The sun is shining, the crows are chattering, my children are resting, but not sleeping, and I have just sat down for the third time today.
Time one, I poured my coffee, made my breakfast, sat down and found myself scarfing my granola and banana and running off to tend to a screaming Miss R.
The second time I sat was for lunch, noodles and "asian" sauce from a packet, helped by the addition of chickpeas, peanut butter, braggs and (for me) hot sauce. I dumped out my breakfast coffee and poured myself a cup for lunch. I made it most of the way through lunch and drank 1/3 of my coffee before we were off and running again.
Now, I sit with my third cup of coffee. Tepid the moment I added milk, the pot is 4+ hours old, after all, and now it is a matter of drinking it to get me through until 5:00 and not the joy of drinking coffee... sigh, I really love a good cup of coffee.
And, now to check and see if the man-child is sleeping yet (I have imposed consequences for not napping, he'll lose his collection of die-cast cars and his big-rig if he chooses to stay up and play today), and nurse the smallest Forsyth.
Time one, I poured my coffee, made my breakfast, sat down and found myself scarfing my granola and banana and running off to tend to a screaming Miss R.
The second time I sat was for lunch, noodles and "asian" sauce from a packet, helped by the addition of chickpeas, peanut butter, braggs and (for me) hot sauce. I dumped out my breakfast coffee and poured myself a cup for lunch. I made it most of the way through lunch and drank 1/3 of my coffee before we were off and running again.
Now, I sit with my third cup of coffee. Tepid the moment I added milk, the pot is 4+ hours old, after all, and now it is a matter of drinking it to get me through until 5:00 and not the joy of drinking coffee... sigh, I really love a good cup of coffee.
And, now to check and see if the man-child is sleeping yet (I have imposed consequences for not napping, he'll lose his collection of die-cast cars and his big-rig if he chooses to stay up and play today), and nurse the smallest Forsyth.
Friday, February 15
my wee baby
She just rolled over (the first time I've witnessed it, but it has happened in my absence once before) and let out the biggest, burliest burp. Followed by a series of farts.
I love babies!!
I love babies!!
mommy's alright, daddy's alright
they just seem a little weird.
What's been keeping me going this week:
- the soundtrack to Juno
- Paul Simon
- Scrubs, Seasons 1&2 (again)
- kids who nap at the same time (not happening today, which is why I am hiding in my room thinking of things to be grateful for)
- Cheap Trick running through my head
- other people's blogs, since I've been too lazy to update my own
- spending the money that was sitting in my paypal account on some patterns by Hillary Lang (of wee wonderfuls fame) and a subscription to sure nail & fire (Kelly Hogaboom's zine)
What's been keeping me going this week:
- the soundtrack to Juno
- Paul Simon
- Scrubs, Seasons 1&2 (again)
- kids who nap at the same time (not happening today, which is why I am hiding in my room thinking of things to be grateful for)
- Cheap Trick running through my head
- other people's blogs, since I've been too lazy to update my own
- spending the money that was sitting in my paypal account on some patterns by Hillary Lang (of wee wonderfuls fame) and a subscription to sure nail & fire (Kelly Hogaboom's zine)
am I a writer?
small boy asks sleepily, "What are you doing Mama?"
"Writing," I reply.
"But why, Mama?"
"Because that's what Mama does, baby, Mama writes."
"Oh, I get it," the precocious little guy says, though his tone tells me he isn't quite sure.
Is there a difference between merely wanting to be a writer and actually being one? Do I need readers to be a writer?
Maybe I need a thesaurus.
"Writing," I reply.
"But why, Mama?"
"Because that's what Mama does, baby, Mama writes."
"Oh, I get it," the precocious little guy says, though his tone tells me he isn't quite sure.
Is there a difference between merely wanting to be a writer and actually being one? Do I need readers to be a writer?
Maybe I need a thesaurus.
Thursday, February 7
burnout and re-entry
Ugh.
Really.
What a week. So much is going on, my mind has been racing, my actions have not been mindful, I've been operating on adreneline, anxiety and caffiene.
Today I realised I'd burnt out. I called my doctor and left her a message stating in my disconnected way that I think I have fallen backwards. I don't think, I know. I was trying so hard to maintain the high of the last while, where I was handling things well, doing things, working hard... too bad I'd stopped working on ME.
Really.
What a week. So much is going on, my mind has been racing, my actions have not been mindful, I've been operating on adreneline, anxiety and caffiene.
Today I realised I'd burnt out. I called my doctor and left her a message stating in my disconnected way that I think I have fallen backwards. I don't think, I know. I was trying so hard to maintain the high of the last while, where I was handling things well, doing things, working hard... too bad I'd stopped working on ME.
brilliance
peanut sauce left over from last nights dinner (dipping tofu) + colourful corkscrew macaroni = an awesome dairy-free mac and cheese substitute!
me and my shadows
I've found a new way to hibernate and lock myself away from the rest of the world. The great part is I had even managed to convince myself that I was really getting better. Not getting better, that I was better. Whatever that means.
I have filled my plate so full I can barely carry it. And I convince myself that so little of it is for me because I love serving my family so very much. I put myself into the role of martyr and tell myself it is what I want. All the while my soul is starving, and a starving soul does no one any good.
Things are crazy around here, but I've been afraid to bitch about them - afraid of what that might look like. Afraid I might seem ungrateful for all the great stuff we have, or afraid I might make things sound worse than they are - more dramatic - and worry family and friends, afraid that I'll sound petty or worse, stupid.
As I type that I know it is silly, I'm smart, I'm grateful, I am not petty and I am not crazy. I do have a mental illness and that isn't going to change overnight, I need to work to get well and I need to remember that.
--------
Sebastian is potty-training. It is a frustrating and messy process that I am so worried about screwing up. I just want to be able to tell the kid to "go" on the pot and have him do it. But currently he is holding his poop. Waiting for a diaper and with it a chance to let loose. I wouldn't mind so much if we hadn't decided to switch back to cloth. I really loathe cleaning his poo out of diapers. Saying that makes me realise I need to get over my mental view of diaper-cleaning, otherwise we'll never stick with it with Rigby. I think I forget why I was so adamant about cloth diapering, because back when I could remember I had much less trouble rolling with the routine of rinsing and washing.
Rigby is teething, I'm pretty cool with it, she seems to be happy with chewing on whatever's available. She likes teething tablets as much as her brother (who is also teething, getting him some molars that kid is). We're out until pay day, so they both got hits of sticky red tylenol yesterday. I worry about red dye and artificial sweetners, and am reminding myself that it is done and that the peace was worth the price.
Rigby seems to share Sebastian's infanthood dairy intolerance. I was slower to admit it this time, as we've become a family who eats a lot of cheese - but the syrupy poops and painful gas can't be ignored. It'll be a good thing, considering Sebastian and I both get grumbly tummies after we eat delicious, delicious dairy. On the bright side, I've been making some food from Low Budget Vegetarian and am finding it delicious, cheaps, filling and kid-friendly.
I find myself flashing back to all the dietary restrictions I endured when Sebastian was tiny and I feel trapped. I don't want to go through it all again.
Rigid.
I've been rigid. Not willing or able to flex as needed, as circumstances evolve and change. I have been trying to do too much and be too much, it happens as soon as I try to step back. So I'm taking another look at things, go back to taking time for myself, get out of this trench. While I do it I thin I might do things that make me look a little crazy. I saw it in the eyes of my husband last night as I tried to let him in on the mess that is my internal monologue. But I am not yet crazy, my feet are still firmly planted in reality and as long as they're here I know I can get where I'm going.
I have filled my plate so full I can barely carry it. And I convince myself that so little of it is for me because I love serving my family so very much. I put myself into the role of martyr and tell myself it is what I want. All the while my soul is starving, and a starving soul does no one any good.
Things are crazy around here, but I've been afraid to bitch about them - afraid of what that might look like. Afraid I might seem ungrateful for all the great stuff we have, or afraid I might make things sound worse than they are - more dramatic - and worry family and friends, afraid that I'll sound petty or worse, stupid.
As I type that I know it is silly, I'm smart, I'm grateful, I am not petty and I am not crazy. I do have a mental illness and that isn't going to change overnight, I need to work to get well and I need to remember that.
--------
Sebastian is potty-training. It is a frustrating and messy process that I am so worried about screwing up. I just want to be able to tell the kid to "go" on the pot and have him do it. But currently he is holding his poop. Waiting for a diaper and with it a chance to let loose. I wouldn't mind so much if we hadn't decided to switch back to cloth. I really loathe cleaning his poo out of diapers. Saying that makes me realise I need to get over my mental view of diaper-cleaning, otherwise we'll never stick with it with Rigby. I think I forget why I was so adamant about cloth diapering, because back when I could remember I had much less trouble rolling with the routine of rinsing and washing.
Rigby is teething, I'm pretty cool with it, she seems to be happy with chewing on whatever's available. She likes teething tablets as much as her brother (who is also teething, getting him some molars that kid is). We're out until pay day, so they both got hits of sticky red tylenol yesterday. I worry about red dye and artificial sweetners, and am reminding myself that it is done and that the peace was worth the price.
Rigby seems to share Sebastian's infanthood dairy intolerance. I was slower to admit it this time, as we've become a family who eats a lot of cheese - but the syrupy poops and painful gas can't be ignored. It'll be a good thing, considering Sebastian and I both get grumbly tummies after we eat delicious, delicious dairy. On the bright side, I've been making some food from Low Budget Vegetarian and am finding it delicious, cheaps, filling and kid-friendly.
I find myself flashing back to all the dietary restrictions I endured when Sebastian was tiny and I feel trapped. I don't want to go through it all again.
Rigid.
I've been rigid. Not willing or able to flex as needed, as circumstances evolve and change. I have been trying to do too much and be too much, it happens as soon as I try to step back. So I'm taking another look at things, go back to taking time for myself, get out of this trench. While I do it I thin I might do things that make me look a little crazy. I saw it in the eyes of my husband last night as I tried to let him in on the mess that is my internal monologue. But I am not yet crazy, my feet are still firmly planted in reality and as long as they're here I know I can get where I'm going.
Wednesday, February 6
the weight of the world
There is so much I want to write - so many things I want to talk about. My life is still a mess, a pretty mess, but a mess. The world is still falling to peices right before our eyes. I've been cooking some great, healthy, cheap food. Parenting is still tough.
But when I sit down my mind goes blank.
Rather, it becomes a wall of white noise, so many thoughts screaming out at once, picking just one idea out of the din is going to take more energy than this tired woman has been able to muster.
But when I sit down my mind goes blank.
Rather, it becomes a wall of white noise, so many thoughts screaming out at once, picking just one idea out of the din is going to take more energy than this tired woman has been able to muster.
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