Thursday, July 31, 2008

The world is a mess and I just need to rule it.

Have you seen this? Well you should. It's good, or is it evil? I'm dying for the soundtrack to add to my showtunes collection.

If you'll excuse me, I have some laundry to do.

I thought an end of the month update might be in order, just in case all three of my faithful readers were wondering about any loose ends around here.

1. My husband gave up on the lengthy chore list everyday. He is still coming up with a couple of doozys a week, but mostly we can all live with it.

2. I’m still having anxiety on Sundays, but maybe someday my new shrink will have a minute or two to address that issue.

3. Okay, so then there was that pesky sending my kid to Utah/Family auction thing. The auction went surprisingly well and our girl spent a fun filled week with her cousins and peace has been achieved in the land. For now.

4. Swim and dive team ended successfully with both boys making it to the City Finals and everyone having Olympic dreams. (Or maybe those were nightmares from the Greg Louganis training videos they were forced to watch on youtube)

5. That whole “I think my friend doesn’t like me anymore drama”—All in my head. Yep I’m just a little paranoid. See #2

6. I’m still sweating at night. I haven’t tried any herbal remedies yet. I’m trying denial for a month or two. I’ll let you know how that works for me.

7. No word on my dad’s love life. Hallelujah! What I mean is, he can have all the romance he wants, I’m just not quite up to hearing about it.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

This too shall pass. Again.

The future generations who read my mother-in-law’s journals will be captivated by the details of her life, the whos, the wheres, the what they ate, and what time it all started (late, if you know my mother-in-law, in her journal it MUST say, “Oh dear, we were late again.”) My posterity, on the other hand will be spellbound by the rollercoaster of my emotions as I tried figure out life,-that is of course, only if my last wishes are not followed and my journals have not been burnt to a crisp.

Writing everyday (or almost everyday) is something I have done since I was in high school. Are you surprised I’m not a little better at it? Me too. Blogging is the first time I’ve shared the things I write with anyone. Usually I try to be somewhat clever or funny or thought provoking here, but the bottom line is that writing is therapeutic for me and this is what I need to write today.

I’m getting a cold. Sometimes that happens when I’m depressed. A physical symptom. I hate being depressed. For as long as I can remember depression has been my sometimes companion, the visits vary in length, and for many years I didn’t have a name for how I felt. I just called it rotten, if I had to the energy to call it anything at all.

It cycles, and I haven’t had a bad bout in a while, so I guess it’s time. I recognize it now, in the olden days, before my first shrink and my first SSRIs I just thought I was going to die. Which, as you can imagine, is pretty depressing.

I feel like I am wrapped in a lead lined blanket, it sounds silly. I want to take it off, and I get frustrated. My senses are dulled. I know WHY I feel like this so why can’t I just stop? I don’t tell anyone (except my husband) when it happens. I think I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding it, besides, what would I say? “Um, could you take my kids to school today? I’m feeling kind of melancholy and I’m probably gonna be in bed for the next three weeks.” I don’t let myself stay in bed. That doesn’t mean I am productive, I’m just not in bed. I stay home more, and answer my phone less.

Logic does not visit on the same days Depression does, but usually Anxiety comes along. They make a great team.

I don’t take medication anymore, I did, for years. I don’t care if you or your best friend takes Prozac. Unlike Tom Cruise, I have seen the benefits first hand. I just don’t want to take a prescription everyday. Truthfully I don’t think I need to. (See, no logic.) My episodes of depression are farther apart and don’t last as long as they used to. Most of the time I can talk (or journal) myself out of it.

This time I’m having a harder time, so I’m going back to the therapist. Knowing is half the battle, right?

I am an emotional writer. My journals are filled with the joys and the sorrows of my life. My great-grandchildren won’t know what I ate or wore or what kind of car I drove, but hopefully they will read my tearstained pages and know that even when life was hard I hoped for a better tomorrow, even when it was hard over and over and over. Hopefully they will see that even when I couldn’t see the light, I knew that there was one and I kept going.

Monday, July 28, 2008

And another thing about those uncivilized heathens who "raised" me

Whenever I make biscuits and gravy my mother-in-law asks me if it is a traditional food made by my “people”.

Yes, it is, I want to tell her, just as your heritage is steeped in Funeral Potatoes and Jell-O salad, my background is also very traditional and my ancestors took care to make sure each generation was able to carry on in the artery clogging ways of our forefathers.

It’s true, I come from a long line of hillbillies. The folks who raised me were very eccentric, as well as being handy with an iron skillet. They often created unusual dishes like biscuits and gravy, or fried chicken and mashed potatoes, fried beef liver and onions. Fried mushrooms, fried zuccuni, fried green tomatoes, and of course, fried okra. Then there is the ancient technique of preparing green beans by cooking them in bacon grease thus rendering them tender and tasty like nobody's business, a skill that has been perfected over the years. And I’m proud(?) to say that no one does chicken gizzards like my granny. Thank goodness.

MMMM yep, my people sho nuf knows how to cook. Don’t be jealous of our high cholesterol levels.

I’m afraid at times though, that I shame them with my grilled chicken, steamed vegetables and fruit served sans a sugary glaze.

I have not however, completely turned my back, my children know how to make fried egg gravy and how to skin a squirrel. Someday soon I’m going to tell them lard.

Friday, July 25, 2008

The rest of the time I am completely normal

Sometimes I don’t want to wake my kids up in the morning because I am enjoying the silence, other times I want to wake them up and hug them and hear the noise, but I know if I do, it won’t be joyful noise for long.

Sometimes I think some of the women in my ward pity me (and my husband) because I’m not all fancy and I don’t dress up or really wear much make-up and my house isn’t magazine layout worthy.

Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I’m SWEATING!! For the love of all that is good and fair the sweating is KILLING ME!!

Sometimes I wear my sweats and a t-shirt all day, and then I sleep in them and wear them most of the next day too.

Sometimes I want to run away with my family and live in a compound in the woods-not very often though. I would like to live in seclusion with my family, just not in the woods. The French countryside would be okay though.

Sometimes I listen to cheesy pop music for fun.

Sometimes I forget that being a wife and a mom is a noble and worthwhile job and I want to join the Peace Corps and be a leader, not just try to raise future leaders.

Sometimes people tell me things that I already know because I secretly read their blogs, but I don’t tell them I know because I don’t want them to think I just sit around reading blogs all day-or late into the night-or very early in the morning. You know, all the time, pretty much.

Sometimes I let my kids eat Fruity Pebbles for dinner, and I don’t even feel guilty.

Sometimes I know for a fact that someone is wrong about something and I don’t say anything because I don’t want to make them feel dumb. For some reason I would rather they think I am dumb.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

I'm probably going to get cooties

I let our daughter go to Utah for 2 weeks (I know I said I wasn’t going to let her go, if you call me I’ll give you the low down, if you don’t have my number you’ll just have to take my word for it, everything seems to have worked out okay.)

Our nephew came to stay with us for 2 weeks (we traded). We are being completely overrun by boys. It’s not that bad really. High on action, low on drama, I can live with it.

This is what they do all day-
They get all gansta up in here with their candy necklaces, yo!
They make cookies. Martha Stewart cookies even.(they were pretty good too)
They play video games. DUH!
They bang my walls with their long boards. Are you boys any good at drywall repair?
They DON'T text girls and they DON'T want their pictures taken when their not doing it!! GOSH!!
They jump on the trampoline. For HOURS.

They look like they are missing the Jonas Brothers, don't they? Where did I put that Camp Rock CD......

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Have a nice day

Okay, so my dad has always thought he was somewhat of a ladies man. (Possibly contributing to the demise of my parents' marriage) I can remember being a teenager and having him tell me that he didn’t think it was wrong for a man to “expect a little something” from a woman if he had paid for a nice night out.

I pause now, to ask you, can you, in your wildest dreams, imagine a father saying this to his daughter? Me neither!! But I promise you he did.

My father has been married twice, to my mother, and to my step mother. Easter weekend my step mother died. We did not have a relationship at all and she made it very difficult for my dad to have a relationship with my brothers and me. Since her passing he has made, in my opinion, a pretty serious effort to show us all he wants to be in our lives again. I’m glad, I have missed him.

He is living and working in Germany now so most of our communication is in the form of e-mail. It’s better than nothing and extremely convenient when I receive a message like this-

First a nice paragraph of small talk,
you know kids, weather, blah, blah. Then all alone one line.-

I have been shocked by the number of women who want to communicate with me. I may have questions as this progresses.

Then back to the small talk.

You see, if we had been on the phone, or heaven forbid in person, he would have probably noticed the soda coming out of my nose as I choked nearly to death. I would probably have blurted out something like-

“What women? Are you insane? Questions? For me? What are ya, the bachelor?” Or maybe “For crying out loud, grow up already!!”

Oh thank you masters of the internet for the e-mail, giving me a chance to gather my thoughts and regain my composure before I reply.

Any dating advice I can pass along to my dad?

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

If my hair starts to fall out, I'm going to be REALLY mad

I was going to keep this to myself, but then my brother told me he doesn’t read my blog anymore so there’s really nothing holding me back. To be honest if he doesn’t read there’s nothing to keep me from leaping off a bridge, his support is just that important to me. Plus he mocked me, on the internet, so he deserves to read about my “female” problems should he happen to stop by.

Here’s the problem. I’m sweaty. Not, like I just ran 6 miles and now I need a shower. Like mini hot flashes. I am not happy about it. Oh yeah, and night sweats. How? How is this happening? How can I be having hot flashes? And I’ve gained 5 pounds AND I have non-stop PMS. I’m not that old. Not even 40 until November. I’m YOUNG!! Why?!

And don’t even give me that “Perimenopause” crap. What is that supposed to mean? “Pre-menopause” is just something people say to ease you into it. Does anyone really think a women with these symtoms wants to hear that it could be up to 8 years before menopause actually begins? It’s not like my menopause is going to go into remission for a few years. It’s just that no one wants to say “full on menopause”, they don’t want to be anywhere near your crazy hormonal reaction to that one. They say “pre” then they back away slowly and run for their lives while it sinks in that you are no spring chicken anymore.

All along I have been fine with turning 40. 40 is good I say. I feel wise, and mature, but in a good way. I like the idea of being 40. What I don’t like is idea, or the actuality of going through menopause. Taking hormones so I’m not wacko, sweating like a pig all night long, and eating Activa yogurt with Jamie Lee Curtis. It’s not my time yet.
*this picture taken from menopause website-it does NOT make me feel better.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Old Red Barn Quilt Giveaway

Someone actually made this quilt with their own two hands, and then they lost their mind because they are giving it away!! Their loss is your gain because if you go here you could win it! Go! What are you waiting for?!

Saturday, July 19, 2008

It was a dark dark knight

I was fully prepared to come home last night and sing the praises of the Caped Crusader, unfortunately I am not going to be able to do that.

I saw the movie. That’s not the problem. My 13 year old son and I went, for a fun night out, the two of us. Turns out, Batman, he isn’t quite as fun as he used to be.

Before you go telling me “It’s called Dark Knight for a reason” and all that junk, I KNOW. I’ve seen the trailers and read the “news” and of course heard all the hype around Heath Ledgers death. I expected it to be edgy. I'm not a stick in the mud, I was looking forward to it.

What I didn’t expect was to be depressed. The movie left me feeling hopeless. There were a few times I wondered about my choice to bring my son-don’t even get me started on the family behind me with 3 children under 7. -They have ratings for a REASON people!! PG-13. If you can’t get a sitter stay home for crying out loud!!-As we were leaving the theater I looked at the line of ticket holders waiting to take our seats and there were several young children I started to get angry, at the parents and the media and the ratings guys. (Sorry, I warned you not to get me started, I’ll save the rest of that rant for another day.)

Many of the previews we saw before the movie started were very dark as well, leading me wonder if we are not on the same path as Gotham, where everyone seems to have given up hope, even our hero. Will our children really believe that “you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become a villain”? I hope not. It surely seems that some of our leaders have. The parallels to many current events were obvious. Problems are not always easily solved, sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, being the good guy can damage your soul. I get it. I’m not so sure about the little guys sitting behind me though.

On the way home I talked to my son. He said he was surprised by just how dark the movie had been. We talked about the violence, and how we almost felt pity for the villains with their obvious mental illness and sad circumstances. We talked about fantasy vs. reality, good vs. evil, and the ends justifying the means. I was glad he saw the movie with me and not his friends.

I’ll miss you Bruce, but this might be the end for us.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Help me Obi-wan, you’re my only hope

Okay, I need some advice o wise internetlectuals. I think my friend may be upset with me and I don’t know what to do.

It’s too complicated to spill all of the details here, but basically I was helping her with something and things didn’t go as planned and I had a few options (none of them ideal, or wrong necessarily) and I am afraid that I might have done the wrong thing and now she might be mad.

I love this friend and I am just sick that I might have done something to hurt our friendship. The thing is this person sometimes gets upset over really minor things, and sometimes she handles major things way better than I ever could. It’s not consistent, what might upset her this day, might not the next. Two people could do the same thing and one might make her laugh, while she’d be furious at the other. Normally I keep my distance from unstable people but aside from being irrational at times, she’s a great friend.

I would just call her, but if she is angry she will probably give me an earful and things will be forever different between us (I’ve seen it happen with some of her other friends), on the other hand sometimes if she has space she gets over stuff and everyone moves on normally.

I don’t want to ignore the fact that she might be upset, but I also don’t want to force a confrontation (did I mention how much I hate confrontation of any kind?) I really don’t know what to do.

Help. Call her or give her some room?

PS there is also option C, -that I am a total paranoid freak. Which could be a little embarrassing.

That’s Deep

A few quotes from Jack Handey to ponder over the weekend-

To me, it's always a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you walk around. That way, if anybody says, "Hey, can you give me a hand?," you can say, "Sorry, got these sacks."

Sometimes I think you have to march right in and demand your rights, even if you don't know what your rights are, or who the person is you're talking to. Then, on the way out, slam the door.

When you go in for a job interview, I think a good thing to ask is if they ever press charges.

Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.

If you work on a lobster boat, sneaking up behind people and pinching them is probably a joke that gets old real fast.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

One more day.

I have a date with Bruce Wayne this weekend.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

birds and bees

My parents never told me anything about sex, maybe they talked to my brothers. It’s pretty likely because I always suspected they liked them better.

We had this set of books. We didn't read them together or anything. My mom always told her friends how open she was with us, and that the books were there anytime we wanted to read them. She would also tell them that I knew all I had to do was ask her if I wanted to start taking the pill, we were just that close. Except the only place we have ever been that close is in her imagination, and I try really hard to avoid her imagination whenever I can.

No way would I have ever, ever, ever gone to her and said “you know mom, about those pills…” Because despite how much she wanted to appear groovy for her swinging friends, she just didn’t have it in her.

I decided not to put our kids through that. I found another way to scar them. Because really, no matter how “cool” your parents were -or are, or your friend’s parents were, how often do you hear someone say that their folks did it just right? One out of ten? Maybe?

Here’s what we do. I recommend it. What have you got to lose? Your dignity? Ha!

These are the best books EVER for “the talk”.

We started using them when our oldest two were about 11 and 9, I think. Since then we have talked to all of our kids when they turned 8. I’ve heard from several people that they think 8 is too young, but those are usually people whose kids are like 13 and the parents just can't bear to shatter their innocence yet. So sorry to tell you, not like it's a big secret, but by that age either their friends have given them the low down, or you better tell them about Santa while you're at it. If you know what I mean. At 8 they are old enough to understand, but not old enough to be completely embarrassed, or to really get how embarrassed you are.

How to Talk to Your Child about Sex gives you a nice script to follow if you have trouble getting started, and Where Did I Come From is just enough information and funny enough to take the edge off without being too silly.

That’s it. Just in case you were wondering. I'm pretty sure you were.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Swim meet

*This is from a couple of weeks ago and I forgot to publish it. OOPS!* In lane four my niece gets ready and set.
Yeah!!! Second place.
There's our girl--she heard a swimcap makes you go faster. I don't know about that, but your hair sure looks nice after the meet!
Fifth place. We were just happy she didn't get disqualified. Breast stroke. It's not as easy as it looks, ya know?
There's the nephew in his Speedo. He glides through the water in that thing! If only he had a swimcap.
Tomorrow night is the division qualifying meet. I'll keep you posted.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Because my palate is so refined

These are my two favorite things to eat these days. I start the morning off with a bowl of delicious bowl of Super Nutty Toffee Clusters from Traders Joe's. If you don't have a Trader Joe's near you I'm sorry. I don't think there is one cereal in the regular grocery store that even comes close to this. They really are super nutty and toffeelious. Best. Cereal. EVER!

I don't usually go for Kettle chips. They are a little too crunchy for me, but I cannot resist these. The blend of salt and pepper is just perfect. I love them. I have been know to eat them for lunch and dinner-and nothing else. I just wash them down with a little diet Mt. Dew and I'm all set.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Once in a while we get a little rain.

It rained last night. Actually, it poured last night. For a LONG time.

The kids were so excited. They would have put on their swimsuits and gone out to play, except they were already wearing their swimsuits, because this is Arizona, and it's summer, and we don't wear clothes (except on Sunday, we always wear clothes on Sunday).

So they went out and it was fun. Until the busybody neighbor said "Hey, you kids should get inside. I saw some lightening!" Which scared one of them but just annoyed the others.

"I can't believe that guy's trying to tell us what to do!" complained the annoyed children.

"Maybe we should go in before we get shocked." said the fraidy cat.

I went to bed. I've seen rain before. This morning our yard looks like Oklahoma after a twister.

(the remains of a bag of charcoal--the wind blew the lid off the grill!)
The problem with not ever having weather is that we aren't prepared when some comes along. The hatches haven't been battened down,- if you know what I mean.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Worst. Mother. Ever.

"If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do well matters very much."*Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

I believe that. If I mess up with my kids no amount of accomplishment in the “other" column will matter. That’s why I don’t like Mother’s Day. To me Mother’s Day is a full 24 hours to reflect on all of the ways I am bungling my children. It’s depressing.

We go to church and hear talks about great mothers and we are recognized for all of our accomplishments with a king sized Hershey bar and a carnation. The thing is I don’t ever feel like I have done anything worthy of recognition. I mess up everyday and the last thing I want is to have the spotlight on me. But maybe the melted candy bar and a flower with a broken stem are appropriate prizes for the kind of job I am doing.

I am trying. Hard. The thing I want most in the world is to be a good mother. For me that means that when everything is said and done, at the end of it all, my children will have felt my love. My hope is that someday they will recognize that I was trying to prepare them for life. But what if I don’t really know how to do that? Lord knows I wasn’t prepared. What if I don’t have the skills to give them the skills they need? What if I am doing to much or too little? Or if I am doing all of the wrong things? What if there is not any connection between cleaning under your bed and being a productive member of society?

I just want them to be able to say they KNEW I loved them and someday be able to really know that, even when I messed up, I was trying to do what I thought was best for them.

But some days I’m tired, and some days I have made commitments outside of our home that take me away from them, and sometimes I just forget things. There are days when I am irrational and hearing “My Life SUCKS!! I wish I were dead!!” just about sends me over the edge. I could laugh it off. If I were someone else. Maybe. I am not ALWAYS on the job, sometimes I have gone out for a break at the worst possible moment for them. Am I a bad mom? No, but I am not the BEST mom either.

I want to be. I’m trying to be. I hope it will be enough.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

10 Years Old!!

I have decided that I am so over the not using my kids names on the blog. If I were getting a slew of readers from all over the world I might feel differently, but seeing as it's really only my family stopping by, and they already know my kids names, I'm going to go for it.

Now that I have that out of the way. It's Eli's birthday today!!! He's 10. And he's fabulous!! Here are 10 reasons why Eli is great. 1. He's always happy. I'm not kidding. He smiles all the time and rarely complains about anything. 2. He's very generous. He's always giving people things, he shares, and when he has money he buys things for his brothers and sisters and cousins. 3. He worries about other people's feelings. It's not very often you see a 10 year old boy that is so compassionate (trust me, I have a lot of boys and they have a lot of friends, compassion is hard to come by in boys). 4. He's a great diver. First place at last week's meet. Woo Hoo!!
5. He makes really good ramen noodles. He's practically a chef. 6. He loves legos. 7. He's funny. His stand-up routine is hilarious. Just ask his grandma.
8. He has lots of energy and his uses it for good, not evil. 9. He loves swimming. He's in the pool everyday. 10. He keeps his room clean. When you have 5 kids having even one that is tidy is priceless.
Happy Birthday Eli!!!

Monday, July 7, 2008

Sabbath Anxiety

I get a big knot in my stomach on Sunday.

I know it is supposed to be a relaxing day of spiritual renewal, but for me, it just isn’t. It used to be. Before I had children, and before I joined the church. Now it is a day of unrealistic expectations, a day I’m not supposed to do any work, and a day of trying to get five children and a man into their Sunday best and out the door on time.

I get out of bed every Sunday with the best of intentions. This week I won’t be cranky, this week I won’t worry about all that I have to do tomorrow, this week I will ignore the messes, and the laundry. This week I will read my scriptures and let myself be enlightened.

Soon my family is up. Without the distractions of the world they are left with nothing but one another to amuse themselves. The teasing and arguing begin. And the food. The amount of dishes dirtied on Sunday is quadruple the amount on most any other day besides Thanksgiving.

By the time we are ready to leave for church everyone is cranky and the house is a wreck and we are wearing 3 loads worth of laundry that we will come home 3 hours from now and toss-inside out- down the laundry shoot. My husband will take a nap (his brand of spiritual renewal) and I will try to keep the children from waking him and killing each other.

My mother-in-law is so good at the Sunday thing. She reads her scriptures and writes in her journal. She wears a dress ALL DAY, she remains calm, and it never appears that she is thinking about tomorrow’s to do list. I feel deficient. What is wrong with me that I am unable to give one day of my week for replenishing my stores?

At the end of the day I want to collapse in a heap. This resting requires too much energy.

Hopefully I can recover tomorrow.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Whew! That was fun!

We slathered on some sunscreen.

We swam and we swam and we swam some more.

Then we ate and ate and ate some more. We took a little rest....

..and saw a few fireworks.
It was a good day.
The End.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Happy 4th of July

We will be bar-b-queing with family, sunburning our noses in the pool, trying not to talk politics, eating watermelon, and being grateful for the freedoms that have been given to us by the sacrifice of others.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

He knows not what he does

My husband thinks the kids need something to do during the day. He thinks they are wasting the summer away, brains rotting and all that stuff. He could be right.

He came up with a "clever" solution.

There's a list of things he can't seem to get to (cleaning out the attic, washing the truck, recaulking the tub.......--it's a long list) and what if the kids worked on those things instead of sitting around with the brain rot all day long.

Hmmm. What if? In theory this is a great idea. Keep the kids busy while checking off items on his endless to do list. Two birds with one stone, if you will. Every evening he thinks up a task or two and says to me "Tommorrow have the kids strip the shingles off our roof and replumb the downstairs shower." Then he gets up in the morning and goes to work. At the end of the day he returns to a shiny new roof and a leak free bathroom. Good plan, right?

HA! Noooooo! Really bad plan!

Here's what happens between the time he leaves and the time he returns-

I say, "Hey guys dad wants you to put in a new sprinkler system this morning." Then the weeping and wailing and nashing of teeth begins.

"That's no fair!"

"It's like he thinks we are his personal handymen or something!"

"I always have to do everything!"

"Doesn't he know I have a LIFE?!"

And those are the nice things. There is also lots of arguing, because working along side your brothers brings out the criticism like nobodies business. So, I mediate, encourage, and threaten until the day's job is done. Then when we are all too worn out to fight anymore Dad comes home. He's proud of himself for having such a great idea.

I can't help it

I think this is so funny.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Introverted? Me? Nah.

Sunday at church some of my friends were discussing their blogs. They’re all people I like, and people whose company I enjoy. Everyone seems to have a blog, and they all want each other to know about and read theirs. They talked about how fun it is, and how easy it is.

Not me.

I just listened. Silently.

I have even denied blogging to members of my ward. You see, I want to blog; I just don’t want everyone I know to read what I write about. Strangers-the more the merrier. My neighbors-not a chance! I have thoughts and ideas and opinions, I just don’t want anyone I actually know to know what they are. I’ve been mocked before, for my liberal views, or my political opinions and I don’t much feel like being mocked anymore. I don't NEED to be liked. I just WANT to be.

The other day I took this test. I’ve taken it before. The long version, the short version, the trick version with silly questions that don’t seem to have anything to do with personality classifying. The results are always the same. ISFJ. Introverted, Sensing, Feeling, Judging. This time I scored 50/50 on the intro/extro-vert portion. It’s a little confusing to me how I can be so confused about my outgoingness. I want to be the life of the party, but when push comes to shove I just don’t want to be judged. (I scored 65% on the judging portion of the personality test, so apparently I don’t have a problem judging others) I really just want to be liked.

A few times I have almost told friends about my secret blogging life, but I worry that the word would leak out, and someone who doesn’t “get” me might find out.

It’s possible I might have some personality characteristics that can’t be narrowed down by some silly Briggs Myers Indicator. Now that whole color thing……


Tuesday, July 1, 2008

It's been a rewarding day already.

This morning I was REALLY mean. I was the worst kind of mother, if you don’t count the “step-mother”.

First, I didn’t let my 9 year old take 5 quarters (of HIS OWN money) to the pool so he could buy a Mountain Dew before dive practice. He was so upset he could hardly look at me. It didn’t stop him from talking though. “Come on! It’s my money. It’s not even dollars, it’s only quarters. PLEASE?!” “What’s the big deal? I won’t drink it all before practice, only half.” And of course the best of all-“That’s not fair!! I don’t tell you how to spend your money.”

Then I made the Demandatron clip her bangs. I know. I suck. She’s been “growing them out” for about 6 months and now they are just the right length to completely cover her eyes each time she comes up for a breath if they haven’t been pulled back. Although she is not very sensitive in a lot of ways, the nerve endings on her scalp cause her a great deal of pain anytime there is styling to be done. –It’s not so great for my nerve endings either.

My crowning achievement came when my 15 year old shouted to me-“I don’t have any socks!!”
“Sure you do.” I replied. “They are under that mountain of laundry next to the dryer.” That’s when he made a loud sighing noise and I told him to fold the mountain of laundry and find his socks. Oh, you can’t imagine the weeping and wailing when a 15 year old boy has been forced to fold clothes that are not his own. The injustice of it all. He only wanted some socks, he has other things to do, it’s so unfair.

All before noon. I feel like I have done more than the Marines today. I deserve a reward.

Silence would be wonderful.