DO I HAVE TO DEPRIVE MYSELF FROM ALL ENTERTAINMENT DISTRACTIONS???

Apparently, the answer to the title of this post is a big fat resounding

))))))))YES((((((((

I have stayed up until midnight, two, sometimes three in the morning watching episode after episode of the Showtime series, The Tudors. Sadly, I need to put down the remote control at night until Spring break.  See, I should be sitting in my philosophy class right now, as I type this post, but instead I reasoned it better to sleep in.

Why?

You know, so that I wouldn’t nod off while studying this afternoon for a science test on Thursday.  Now, I’m considering skipping science, today, just to get another two hours of sleep before I go to the library.  Somehow my logic seems lacking in maturity.  BUT ITS NOT MY FAULT, ITS THOSE DAMN TUDOR’S!

I don’t like this feeling of juggling my passions.  King Henry, how did you do it? Eh, don’t answer that.

Hmmm… she thinks…

I can get away with this once, and not lose my head over it, but only once.  And this is an all or nothing situation for me, like Facebook.  The FB account has to get deactivated.  I can’t choose to just not open it up, because folks would still be contacting me through FB, which if the e-mail needs a response, I have to do it through FB.  After typing the response, why not just check my wall to see what people have said?  Then, holy shit I HAVE TO RESPOND TO THAT, HELZYEAH.  Then comes more e-mails from FB… see how that goes… I get sucked in!  The only way to exercise self-control is to deactivate it all together!

EXHALE.

And the same goes with my beloved Tudors.  If I watch one episode, I MUST SEE THE NEXT ONE, AND THEN THE NEXT ONE AFTER THAT.  So on and so forth.

So.  Many.  Distractions.

Though, these chosen modes of entertainment are wildly different from when I was in my 20’s.  Back in the day, it was sex, dope, alcohol, and punk rock keeping me up into all hours of the night.

These days… its historical fiction.

Un-Fucking-Believable.

Oh those Super Bowl commercials… about as misogynistic as they come, wouldn’t you say?  I get the distinct feeling that the upward movement of women in our culture is really starting to threaten those poor men, hence the beyond comprehensible litany of fucked up, men need to be men {grow a spine, Jason}, sales ads.  And trust me, I know we have come a long way, sister-friends, but damn, are we even half way there, yet?

Jezebel has a collection of them on their site.

Adventures in parenting…

In case you are wondering, Max has not ran away or even threatened to run away again.

To be fair, in his mind he wasn’t “running away.”  It was more of “running off,” than anything permanent.  He has been very emotional lately and I have found that staying calm, not responding to his loudness, tone, or sass but instead focusing like a laser on what it is he wants and needs, settles him very quickly.  VERY quickly.  I actually just ignore the way he is acting or the way in which he says things to me.  I’ve let go of the idea {for the time being} that I need to teach him the right behavior and have gone back to something like when he was a baby, and focus on addressing his needs. You don’t teach a baby “how” to ask for what they want, I thought, and Max is in a place right now where he isn’t benefiting from me insisting on respect or good behavior.

He is finding his own voice.

If I say anything about the way he is acting, which is rare lately, it’s said as an afterthought without emphasizing importance, like, “oh sure, I’ll get that for you, no need to scream it.”  Often he’ll chuckle at the idea that he was screaming, I think he doesn’t realize he’s yelling {as if I’m put on Earth to be his servant… and a bad one at that}.  Or I’ll joke and say, “YES YOUR GREATNESS, right away, Your Greatness.”  That will get him laughing, too, and then he’ll take it down a notch or two.

But oh my, you can not laugh AT a five year old.  Oh no.  Even when what they say or do is funny as hell, DO NOT LAUGH.  That is a sure way to piss a five year old off.  They take their words and emotions very seriously.

As they should.

The weeks of hell I went through to get to this place of compatible parenting with him, whew, what-a-roller-coaster! It’ll be smooth sailing for a couple months, and then the boy’s growth and change will sneak up on me again.  This parenting ride has gotten so much easier, but still… SO UNPREDICTABLE.  That’s okay though, it suits my adventurous side.

Bella turned three years old on February 2nd.  She is starting to become interested in using The Potty.  Yay!  Happy Dance!  I want to share her birth story, again, but have to get around to editing it a little.

My baby girl is a big girl, now.

I love silence, except when Max runs away…

Me: Max, can you please be quite. {it’s 8:56 pm, and quite frankly i’m tired of hearing his voice}.

Max: I’m gonna give you a big hug, mommy.  A bear hug.

If only this was said telepathically because, you know, he just kept talking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We had a rough, eh… incident, this afternoon.  On our drive home from preschool, around 2:45 pm, I spotted a dead squirrel on the road.  Normally, I wouldn’t have mentioned it to the kids but it struck me as a unique moment because another squirrel, whom I imagined was its friend or lover, was trying to, well, it looked like she or he was trying to pick up the lifeless body.  Like, the friend was sad.  So thinking out loud, I told the kids and they were all like, oh, I wanna see a dead squirrel! Max was fine with it at first, {Bella stayed strapped in her car seat so couldn’t attend the viewing}, but then he started asking how? and why? and how can we help save the squirrels? We worked through the sadness, talked about it and such.  However, he couldn’t get this damn dead squirrel out of his head.

We get home.  Now, everyday as soon as we get home I, with the help of Max and Bella {should they be awake} let our dog outside.  Camus, our dog, is a stubborn and intelligent pug.  He doesn’t like to shit or piss in his own yard so I take him to our neighbors.  Don’t fret, I always clean up his poop.  Anyway, Max was sitting under the tree in the front yard contemplating this squirrel issue when I started to call for the two of them to walk with me to let Camus do his business.  Bella came, Max stayed under the tree.

I figured he needed time.

Bella and I take Camus and come back about 10 minutes later.  Max was in hysterics, yelling at us, I WANTED TO TAKE CAMUS FOR A WALK!  He was really upset and demanded to take Camus out again.  I didn’t want to go again right then.  This made him even angrier.  I made some suggestions, he rejected them.  Bella, Camus, and I went into the house.  I turned around waiting for Max to come in and he yelled, “I’M GONNA RUN OFF JUST LIKE YOU DON’T LIKE ME TO!!!”

I said, okay.  Don’t talk to any strangers.  And went into the house, leaving the front door open.  We know all of our neighbors and all of them know us.   And I’m not big on paranoia, so really didn’t worry about him.

I go upstairs, do a few things, 10 minutes go by and I think, “Hmmmm, maybe I’ll just go see where he is and if he wants to come inside now.”

I look out front.  I look out back.  I call for him {I’m yelling his name, LOUDLY and calmly}.  I walk around the house.  I ask a jogging dude if he saw a little boy down the street where he came from.  Nothing.  About, eh, 10 minutes of calling and looking around and I’m staring to feel a mixture of anger and worry.  Something like, worry if I don’t find him soon.  Anger, when I get my hands on him.  I grab my purse and keys, about to drive around the neighborhood.  I yell out, MAX, I’M GETTING IN THE CAR AND DRIVING AROUND TO LOOK FOR YOU!

Then in the far distance, at the end of our street, I see him.  He is crying.  He is mad.  We start walking towards one another and he demands to be able to let Camus outside.  I’m thinking, WTF?  HE DID GO OUTSIDE AGAIN, WHEN I WAS LOOKING FOR YOUR ASS. I didn’t answer him but asked him to please come home now.  He said no and then turned around and RAN AWAY.

I was already about four houses from him when he bolted in the opposite direction.  All I could think at that moment was, I need to drop Bella off and go after him.  I knocked on our neighbor’s door.  Ron works from home.  I briefed him on what was going on.  Ron and Julie have two children, 22 and 11 years old, both boys.  Good kids, the 11 year old is our lawn mower.  Anyway, he kept Bella and did some light gardening with her in his front yard while I went after Max.

From the moment I dropped Bella off until I reached Max, I had no idea what I was going to say to him or what I was going to do.  Should I spank him?   Should I yell at him?  How did my mom handle me the one time I ran away?  Should I do that, or this?  What will help him understand how NOT GOOD it is that he ran a little too far away?  I had about three home lawns to travel before reaching him.  When I rounded the corner of the last house on our street there he was, crouched down, pouting and crying.

I sat down next to him and gave him the biggest, tightest hug I could {which is what my mom did}.  And cried a little, but not too hard {she did this, too}.  It was a spontaneous release of all that I was feeling.  He looked at me, SHOCKED, and asked why I was crying.  I told him that it scared me when he didn’t answer my calls and I didn’t know where he was.  He hugged me and said, “I care about you so much.”  I didn’t expect him to say that, I didn’t expect him to say anything.  We sat there for a few minutes, until I could pull myself back together.

On our walk home, I told him that if he needs to run out of the house again, don’t go any further than Tammy’s house {two houses away} so that when I call him he can at least hear me.  He agreed that this was a, “really good idea, because I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s so hard being a parent.  Although I feel like I handled this situation the best I could, I still have no idea if what I did was the right thing to do… if it will have a positive impact on him.  At the same time, I can’t worry about it or second guess everything I choose to do with my kids.  Gah, it’s so hard to know if I am ever doing the right thing.  I have this idea in my head, it has become A Truth for me, that no matter what I do, you know I’m gonna fuck these kids up in some way.

I really dislike being in situations that don’t have a clear path on how to handle and respond.

I am realizing that it is very important to not take for granted that Bella is more reserved in her demeanor.  When she gets pissed, she shoots me a dirty look that could kill.  Or screams with this fierce look on her face like she could crush a house with the sound of her voice.  Though, really, while at least once a day something doesn’t go her way, her moments of fits are not draining on my body and spirit.

When we got back home I put in a movie for Max and Bella, and then fell asleep for two hours.

What a day.

“Why did you take pictures of that boring chair? Not all people like dark green.” ~ Max

I recently found this awesome mid-century modern chair at Goodwill:

Goodwill is actually my least favorite “thrift store.”  Mainly because it is the most expensive.  However, this chair set me back $37, which for Goodwill seems reasonable.  I have put off buying thrifted furniture up until recently.  The reason being is that I could not for the life of me imagine staying in Florida, in this house we are in.  I passed up many of cool pieces for fear that any minute now we may decide to pack up and leave.  In hindsight, this seems a bit silly, but whatever.

I have been known to spontaneously decide move to a different state, then two weeks later I’m there… so maybe it’s not that irrational to assume I may sell our house on Craigslist one morning.

I have come to terms that we may be here for an unknown length of time… years longer, even.  Hence, FURNITURE!  The thing is, we have two living room areas.  One upstairs with the kitchen, two bedrooms, dinning, and two bathrooms.  I think I’ve told ya’ll this before, my house is close enough to water that they built it “flood ready.”  The second “living room” {or I guess it would be called a den?} is downstairs.  When I imagine living here until retirement, I imagine this being where all the teenagers like to hang out.  Big screen T.V., comfy couch and chairs, video games… a room of their own.  I plan on putting a refrigerator in the laundry room, of-course, to lure them in.  I imagine Bella having slumber parties down there and Max inviting his best friend over so they can stay up all night watching horror movies and playing video games.

So, thinking of that, and then thinking of moving kind of hurts my brain.  If I furnish this downstairs area, when we move we will have one room of furniture to get ride of.  My next home, if and when it happens, will be a smaller, older, quaint bungalow that will most likely have only one living room.  I like small, old-made-modern spaces {Hal, too}.

The mental compromise I’ve reached is that we are here, so I am going to be here.  Until there is a reason to start preparing for a move, I’m letting go of living like our current house is temporary.  This is our home sweet home and I’m finally okay with that.  Now, don’t go confusing my okayness with the idea that I’m resigned to living here for the rest of my life.  Ooooh no, I’m only resigned to the reality that this is where I live now, and that we have no current plans to sell {good gawd, not in this market and not until I am gainfully employed}.

Hal has laid claim on the “boring green chair” as part of his listening station.  When he saw it he said, “Now that’s the kind of chair I could sit in for hours and listen to music.”  Awe, it’s your’s baby.

{apparently, posting less means posting the same?}

Lite Chat

About six months ago, I found this little nightstand at a flea market for $15, in mint condition:

I use it as a printer stand next to my desk in our bedroom.  It houses the kid’s art supplies.  Then, last week I was on Craigslist looking for a dresser for the kid’s bedroom and I found this for $25, also in mint condition:

Don’t you just love it?  Max was so thrilled to have a new dresser that he folded all his clothes and meticulously organized them in his designated three drawers on the right.  Today, I was grabbing a pair of undies out of my dresser and he says to me, matter-of-factly and pointing at the disordered pile, “YOU need to organize your dresser, Mom.”

Slowly but surely our house is coming together, one room at a time.

Sometimes, you gotta school yo’ man…

Bella:  I DON’T WANT TO TAKE MY ITCHY MEDICINE!  {she’s saucy, pissed, and running away from her papa}

Papa:  Bella, get over here and take your itchy medicine OR YOU’RE NOT GOING TO PLAY WITH IRIS TOMORROW!

Me:  HAL!!!!!  {then comes the nodding of my head that no, threats are not okay}

Hal:  {to me, half joking, half knowing he done wrong, half serious} Michelle, YOU don’t know how to handle these kids!  Bribes work!

Me:  What? No they don’t, and you were threatening her.

{this is a light-hearted exchange with a point and we both knew it}

Hal: Fine, you get her to take this. {he hands me the cup with the offending liquid medicine}

Me: {game on} okay.  Bella, let mommy know when you are ready to take this medicine, okay?  {and I sit it on the counter and walk away from it}

moments pass and you hear Bella say softly…

I want mommy to give me the medicine. And then I give her the cup.  She takes it.

Oh yeah, oh yeah,do a little dance.  Oh yeah.  Busted.

Hal:  You ain’t nothin’ special.

from there to here to over there, keep it moving.

posting will prolly be light in the next few weeks.  school has started and i’m keeping busy.  i’ve also gone back to facebook, which is quick and easy for updating to folks who wanna know.  it requires less time and thought, which i don’t have to dedicate to this space right now.  but ya’ll know i can never give up pontificating, naval-gazing, and the like here, it’s too much a part of my internal process, this writing business.

classes are going well, i’m managing to keep on top of the workload, thus far.  three classes, i cannot afford to fall behind.

i’ve had some other things going on that have had me step back and re-evaluate certain aspects of life, and how i function in it.  nothing negative, just the usual OH SHIT, HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED THAT, kind of stuff.  and then when you do realize that thing you have been missing, you can’t very well go on in the same fashion, with the same mindset you had before, now can you?  nope.  it calls for a shift in your consciousness.  a shift that is good for not just you, but for everyone you know and meet.  i really hope you know what i’m talking about – ‘cuz this can happen to anyone, and prolly has happened to you.  oh, it’s also really fucking painful.  at first, i always fight it, this thing called transition, then i give in to the anger it brings up and explore it.  then, i start to understand the anger and the need to move on.  then, i begin to let go.  but it’s not like letting go of dead weight, a brick by brick deconstruction of a damaged home, no it’s not really a relief.  it’s more like the dropping of petals from a soft flower, rich with earth and scent.  or leaves that unhitched from a rooted and loved tree, forced by the hands of time and wind to let go.  it’s sad.  and that is where i’m at now.  it’s less painful than the first part, still a bit sorrowful.  i’m mourning the death of a fog that felt right, but wasn’t.  i think the next step is to fully let go and grab on to what i know to be the future.  that leap of faith that everything will still be alright.  different, but alright.

that everything will still be alright.

“This time, like all times, is a very good one, if we but know what to do with it.”

sometimes i wonder if something is terribly wrong with me because i don’t lament the passing of time with my children.  or at least that strong urge that can bring tears to a mama’s heart is not familiar.  usually, i’m so thankful that they learned a new skill, are more independent, need me less as they move towards adulthood.  mostly i get excited to think about what they will be like at all the older ages, pre-teen, teen, early 20’s, adulthood, maturity…

oh wait… that is not true… i do reminisce and get overwhelmed at the passing of time… there was that one time…  it was at orientation day for max’s preschool.  the surprise of his growth hit me, much like a mallet to the temple, and shocked my sockets with a gush of emotion.  so maybe it’s not that something is wrong with me, but that max and bella are still so young, i have had less time with them to look back on.

i do, however, notice the passing of time being written on their bodies – how max’s face barely resembles the baby he once was, his cheek bones higher, less chunky, and his eyes wider now, with thick lashes.  how he talks like a big kid and thinks like a mini-scientist.  bella, she is no longer that red, oozing, scaly-rough-rash-covered baby she once was; her itchy patches now confined to the typical eczema spots, behind her knees and at the crease of her arms.  i hardly remember her first two years, except that they were painful for her and me.  time obscured from recall because nobody needs to remember the exact feelings of suffering.  i always thought she was beautiful, from the day she was born, but i know strangers looked at her and struggled to comment – for fear something was terribly wrong with that baby.  i remember feeling pain in having to assure people…  don’t worry, she is not contagious, and then have her still pick her son up and move away, all the while saying, “oh no, I know.”  rashes scare some new moms, i guess.  those were some lonely months.  i can’t even write about them without remembering the overwhelming sadness that filled each day.  i guess a part of me laments not having been able to enjoy that time during bella’s fresh life.  i was so consumed with her health and comfort, and the worry that i could not give her these basic needs.

but i make up for time lost by enjoying every day with her now.  now that my baby is not suffering my light is brighter, life is less heavy, the days are free.  she’s a big girl, looking nothing like her baby pictures.  suffering very minimally from The Itchies, as we have dubbed them.  beauty looking out through the windows of bright brown eyes, curls hanging in her face, skin soft and white. she’s fierce, strong, and independent.  time has been good to her.  to us.

i’ve never been one to say, i wish i could go back and do it all over again {not that i live in clear conscious, i have made many mistakes}.  this feeling of wanting to go back has always eluded me.

but i can see the appeal in once again holding my sweet-bundle-of-love baby boy right after he slips out of his warm cocoon and into the light of our home.  oh if i had a time machine… there are moments i’d love to relive; those moments when i thought, this feeling should never end, like kissing the fat rolls on max’s legs.  such tender memories.

but there is no time machine, no computer to hook up to my head to bring the life of memory into real-time.  and i find i don’t need any of that… what i do have is all the days ahead when i get to hold other people’s infants, play with other people’s babies, _nom_nom_nom_ on all that baby fat another new momma is enjoying.  i finally understand why every woman {who had older children} that i’d find myself in the company of, would so eagerly and excitedly offer {sometimes take} to hold my baby.  i do the same thing when around a mama with a baby.  just let me hold her, i’ll give her back. i promise.  but not until i’ve smelled her scalp, rubbed my cheek on her soft skin, and have given her plenty of gentle hugs of love.

mostly, i’m too busy living the day out to stop and think about how much growth and change has occurred through time, but when i do, when i stop to sit and write, it’s not sadness because of time that is gone, or lost, that i feel… its love for the magic of memory, all that has been realized, and for that which is to come.

and yes, sometimes this love brings tears of joy to my eyes.

{*with edit}”No matter how one may think himself accomplished, when he sets out to learn a new language, science, or the bicycle, he has entered a new realm as truly as if he were a child newly born into the world.”

so SO happy for the start of another semester.  i feel like i’m experiencing the academic side of high school that i NEVER took interest in while that age. state college of florida reminds me of high school, haha.  but since i sucked at high school, it kind of feels like i’m getting a second chance at it.  that pretty much sums up what i’m experiencing right now… a strange sense of enjoyment in this process of learning in a classroom environment.

let’s be honest, part of being a good student is to be obedient.  either we forced ourselves to be or we were {are} naturally.  i have never been academically obedient or disciplined and this has prevented me from getting anything useful out of a formal education.  i don’t look back and wish i were able to finish college in my 20’s, or that i was different in these regards.  life has been rich and full of experiences because of my lack of obedience – i have no complaints.  these are just some observations.

i’m enjoying the self-discipline of staying on top of the work.  i’m enjoying figuring out each teacher’s game plan, and playing along {this is new to me as well}.  it’s nice that i’m going through college with this kind of awareness of what it means to be educated in America: obedient, conformist, able to fall in line and do as you’re told, uncreative, and so on.  sounds depressing, huh?  it is.  and those who want to go on to the next academic level, have a specific job goal, or just want to elevate their class status have to haul ass through all the bullshit to get to the good stuff.  and sometimes, the process of college lets people know what their true path is.  i know many folks who don’t use their degree, but are glad they went through the process of getting it.  maybe the one thing they learned was what they can’t learn in college, and that alone was worth the piece of paper.  just sucks that we have to pay up the ass for it.

{and of-course i know plenty of people who are happy as apple pie, brilliant, quite educated in ways that blow my mind, and would never think of wasting time in college}

{*edit:  i should prolly tell you why i am going to school… it’s part to further my ability to get a job i will be passionate about and its part because i’m really enjoying it.  the first could not happen without the latter.}

off to do some science homework.  oh, listen to this… yesterday was my first day in this science class.  it looks like a lab, beakers, microscopes, other types of sciency equipment laying about and whatnot. the tables are big and seat four students.  well, as the teacher was lecturing – oh how i love this old guy, he’s so excited about science and goes off on tangents – he would ask questions about different things that went something like, did you know…blah, blah, blah… and what do you think that means?… what is that?… well, I DID KNOW.  i knew the answer to just about every one of his questions.  and, having never experienced being the smart kid in class, i rightfully answered them – participating like i have never done before.  no body else was piping up so i figured, mine as well.  but here’s the funny thing about it… i knew all the answers because i listen to the They Might Be Giants: Here Comes Science, CD every-single-day with my kids!  i just know eventually we’re going to get to the section having to do with the color spectrum, he’s going to ask the class a question about what it is, and i’m gonna want to bust out singing Roy G. Biv is a colorful man and he proudly stands at the rainbow’s end…

but i won’t.  because that would blow my cover. my five year old son could have answered his questions.  haha!