I Want Her to Be Resting Peacefully, But I Also Kind of Want Her to Haunt Them

they're smashing down all the tiny houses around my house and building these giant monstrosities. that's not a nice word, probably, some call them 'bigfoots' for the big footprints they have, on those same tiny lots. it has the effect of the fat-guy-in-a-little-suit, with the front porch spilling over the sidewalk and the backyard....not being. when they start these projects, the first thing they do is come in and tear down all the trees in the yard which gets me all Lorax-y. welcome to the neighborhood, asshats. 

we're the new-old 'it' town and people with dollar-dollar-bills-y'all are moving in. it's cool because it raises the value of our wee house, but it's terribly not cool because it's loud and there are all these dudes prowling around my backyard-adjacent and pounding loudly outside the bedrooms of the children who do not want to nap. and also, in about 6 months, we're going to be that house from the movie 'Up,' small and sandwiched between skyscrapers. and i am FOR SURE going to be the crabby old man refusing to change and suspicious of any person on his porch. herumph. 

this fall we lost the beautiful maroon-haired Ms. Betty, our next door neighbor of 10+ years. she had lived in that tiny one-floored house for 60+ years. she took really good care of it, and pretty darn good care of herself. she lived alone for the past decade. except for her cats, whom she was always sarcastically trying to give away. there's a little rickety garage behind her house, which is also currently being torn down. she kept her boat car in it, driving it only to the beauty shop and the doctor(s). many doctors near the end. 

in the last years of her life, she lost her best friend and brother, who played cards with her every day and sometimes took her eat at this local diner with a questionable wagon theme and meals for $3.99, and also her granddaughter and was losing her son when she died. she didn't like that she was breeching the natural order of things. she didn't like it at all. 

anyway. she's gone and every time i see them tearing off a piece of siding, i wince for her. the house was small and well-built and suited her family's needs. and now it's going to be replaced by something huge and likely cheaply built and wasteful. 

i'm also a little jealous. we kiboshed the renovation on our own little bungalow a few years ago and are just embracing our little house pretty much as-is for now. the projected plans weren't going to be huge, but it was going to be a pretty good upgrade in size and shiny-ness. i dream of doing snow angels on the floor of my kitchen without smacking the walls (#itissmall) and there were some pretty sophisticated designs happening elsewehre, too. BUT we want to make sure we're being mindful in what we need/want/can afford/should afford. 

grownupping is for the birds.  

but also, since i'm standing on principle on my house i can reign down righteous indignation on the West Eggers moving in around me. 

herumph again for good measure. 

A Little Disheveled, but Clean/New Years Resolutions Are for Suckers, So I Made 3 (Three)

i'm sitting here alone in my house, which is a miracle on two points. 1- someone in my family is always talking towards me and this night, two of them are asleep and one of them is visiting friends and talking at that house, i assume, towards someone else. and 2- i like it. i like the quiet. 

i've spent a lot of years now avoiding quiet. buzzing gadgets and noisy people and the constant fear of missing out on some action has meant i shy away from alone time. and more broadly, in my life, i'm always throwing more plates in the air to make my spinning trick more impressive. i complain about, but am secretly fiercely proud of, the frantic pace at which i live and the millions of hats i wear. i 'DO' so much, everything is measured in what is 'DONE' or not 'DONE' and not by how i'm do-ing. does that make sense? not saying 'no' to anything has become a code of honor. and really, it's about never being still long enough to let my dusty thoughts settle. 

(btw- if ever asked how i'm doing, i say 'fine.' that's weak sauce, man. no substance and probably not true. don't fall for it.)

this jacked-up pace has caught up to me, of course. i have ALL THE THINGS in my life that i've painstakingly worked for- the job, the marriage, the kids, the house, even the hobbies. but i'm scared all the time. i'm a raw nerve and i'm not especially happy. it's stupid, stupid, because i'm quite literally tripping over the glorious blessings in my life, but there you go. i'm anxious all the time, fearful, lost, panicked. have very recently threatened to leave my marriage. have felt remarkably unsettled and overwhelmed by my kids. have lost my sense of who i am and just become what i do. 

it wasn't always like this. there was a time i did stuff for me, for pleasure and growth, and wasn't just a doer in the service of others. i explored philosophy and meditation and prayer and worked to enhance an understanding of myself and my relationship with God and others. i had long talks with robb and my other best friends through the middle of the night about who we were and where we fit in the world and what our plans were. and always included in the plans were expectations that personal change would continue and these relationships would deepen and some higher purpose was the aim- justice or art or something equally pure and poetic and necessary for the soul to reach toward. 

but it's easy to fill adulthood with the chaotic minutia and lose the connection with your own spirit. and there, in that place, i have had no bank of peace left in me that i could turn to when i felt overwhelmed, i had used up all the last batch of confidence i'd gained from surviving my last major fall and was running on fumes of doubt and self-loathing. you can go farther than you'd think on that. you can smile and impress the people and function adequately when driven by fear. but it's not indefinite. there will be a stall. or a crash. and it hurts because it's not for you. none of it is for you. you're a puppet, wearing your clothes. 

and i've discovered, through much consideration, that my version of this puppet is the sad clown. i get louder and funnier and make the people feel good and jolly, but it's all makeup. i'm hurting and not telling anyone. 

this blog has been a great outlet. i do share some big truths on here that i struggle to reveal in person to people i care about. maybe because it's so one-sided, i don't have to do my usual accomodation dance to the other party and can just open up and spill it out. 

i started seeing a therapist, too. it's so great. everyone should (be able to afford to) have a therapist. it's a little weird at first, and i have to override the impulse to guess what she's thinking about me ("subject is a little disheveled, but clean. she seems to have brushed her hair today, but those are definitley cookie crumbs on her shirt. and she swears a LOT. note- ask her later if comes from a family of pirates."). 

i asked her to help me find that peace. and she helped me discover how much i'm performing and not really talking. she's given me some really helpful tools. 

so i'm working on it. 

i'm trying to re-find myself and get a foothold in my relationships. i need to be BRAVE and give more of myself, even when it's scary because i'm not sure i matter or that what i have to say is valuable. at 35 i'm still dealing with that. 

is everyone? 

last night i wrote this long post revealing much of this. it got deleted by my own error (and that cursed, horrid app that i'm not talking to anymore) and i felt like i'd been punched because working through this stuff has been pretty raw for me. it was a real humdinger. me telling you that i'm committing to writing more because i feel like i have to to be the best me. and that i'm committing to being brave and to share all the parts of myself i've been hoarding out of fear. talking about how i'm now seeing a therapist for anxiety and depression. boy, it was good. it would have made you laugh and cry. there were references to both miralax and asshole bleaching. and there was also stuff that possibly would have made you say ME, TOO. SHE'S BROKEN AND SCARED AND FUCKED UP LIKE THAT, TOO??  

but part of the brave thing is healing when something doesn't go my way and trying it again. and so you get this wobbly post, a pale comparison to the surely genius one that that was destroyed by that cold-hearted app (obviously this reminds me of that Tenacious D song: http://youtu.be/_lK4cX5xGiQ). 

so, in an effort to be more authentically me and less of the 'sad clown' (does that sound stupid to anyone else? now that i re-read it, it sounds stupid. lemme know), i'm going to reach out for what i need and to give more pieces of myself. just sharing some of these revelations and insecurities leaves me with that face-draining feeling and weak hands-thing you get you're doing a scary thing and your adrenalne mobilizes the blood to the big muscle groups to help you run the fuck out of that place and find somewhere safer. 

but i don't want safe. i want true. 

at 35 years old, i am quite busy with job and family. but i need to be my best me for all that. i can't wait to start being brave, because it's going to take practice. and eventually i want to be wise. like mark twain and yoda wise. with willy wonka's top hat. i still have much to do, but i need to be at vivid peace within me before i can do it. there will come a time when i'll be doing scarier things and my peace bank and confidence well and spirit needs to be prepared. 

in the immediate, i'm smiling bigger. for me. i don't want to politely sad smile anymore (a brilliant pastor i once knew called it 'big smile, sad eyes.' look around. SO many people do it). i want it to take out my whole face and actually lift my mood because the grin goes all the way up on the sides and signals the synapses and works the serotonin into a froth or whatever i forgot happens in the brainy stuff. 

i plan to work on my writing, because maybe that's part of how i can help? or at least maybe it will help me. i *vow* (strong words for such a hot mess, lady) to blog twice weekly and keep chipping away at my funny novel. do not be alarmed. the blogging won't all be my babbling about inner peace and know thine self yackety schmackety, it'll mostly go back to talking about my kids and how much they fart. (a lot. they fart a lot.)

but i suspect that the great thinkers and big doers who i respect in the world now/across history regularly stepped out of their comfort and did scary things that made their palms sweat. right??

so, here goes. provided i can still cling to a joe-joe in my sweaty palm, i'm cool. 

oh, and also i'm going to lose 10 lbs. 

The Day the Dentist Went to Henry. Wait. Strike That. Reverse it.

once upon a time there was a little boy named henry. 

he was a very little boy but he had some very big brave when he went to the dentist for a filling. 

and he used his very big words to make the dentist laugh. 

his mom made him brush his teeth on the way there, as if that would help. 

HE knew it was too late. 

and SHE knew it was too late. 

still, she made him do it. 

he had a few cavities where the cavity bugs had worn through. 

they needed to be filled with the...stuff. (the details of the stuff are kind of fuzzy, even for his mom). 

when the dentist started using a water pick, she explained that water is "very important for mouths"

and henry said, AND ALSO WATER IS VERY IMPORTANT FOR SURVIVAL. 

the dentist had to agree. 

while they worked, he stared straight ahead and answered all their questions politely. 

he did not complain about the pain and said that he did not feel scared. 

he also said he understand why he had to wait 1 hour before eating the tooth-shaped lollipop when he was all done.

kind of.

there is reason to believe there may be more cavities to fill in the future.

BUT MOMMY CAN WE PUT BLUE SPRINKLES ON TOP?

i had an enlightened moment today. i'd been feeling guilty (again) for yelling at my beautiful children so much this weekend (again) when i was single parenting (again) and when robb came home and asked how i'd fared, i went all tragic, 'i screamed so much and i told anna to shut up once. oh, god. i'm awfuuuuuul!!!' and then i cried in the kitchen and then i went for a run. 

the first half of the run i continued my chant of how much i suck and how i hope the kids don't remember me as this awful, harsh, fun anchor and how they might be better off without me. 

and then the sunshine and the snow in the trees and a few minutes of peace, alone, listening to Fergie with my endorphins working and started thinking...G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S...and also....when robb asked me that question, it was in a clean house, both kids, fed and fine,  were sleeping, i had fared. this weekend, taking care of 2 toddlers by myself, i ALSO made a pot of soup, read a million books, had a snow ball fight with the snow snot that fell out of the sky and hit my front yard, and took them to the farmers' market AND library. i made pancakes AND we made and decorated Christmas cookies. 

the cookies. 

so, what gives? why am i hating on myself so much? because i was stressed out the whole time and i just KNEW the kids could feel it. but what are the facts?

so, yes, they watched a lot of movies, they ate only carbs (did you see the thing about the pancakes AND cookies, and also there was some white bread from the farmers' market, OK STOP JUDGING, IT WAS HARD. THEY ARE MEAN) and we fought over meals. and i a little bit threw a chair (at no one). and when we lost the apple TV remote we almost had to move. and somehow potato chips ended up spilled in the bathroom. and when henry saw me cleaning in there he was so alarmed by the strange site, he got confused and thought we were going to make the cookies in the bathroom, maybe? 

floor below the cookies. 

but why don't i focus on what i did well?? really. WHY?

and can i change the narrative in my head so i feel like less of a failure?

last night after the kids and i had a collective melt-down and bedtime was pushed forward and cookie decorating pushed back to the next day and everyone cried....and then everyone talked....and then we read books and then they were falling asleep....i was still panting from the trauma of the fight, but they weren't. they were fine. in fact, as i'm rocking and sucking my thumb in the chair in the corner of their room, pretty sure i'm the most despicable mom of all time second maybe only to joan crawford, henry whispered, BUT MOMMY, CAN WE PUT THE BLUE SPRINKLES ON TOP? 

he was just worried about frosting his cookies. 

he'd forgotten all about the fact that i forced him to eat poison quinoa soup and that i'd scared him when i a little bit threw that chair. 

i have to believe two things, when we all survive to the other end of this kid/parent thing.

1) i'll be left with the impression that they were adorable

2) they'll be left with the impression that i was wonderful

i say that confidently because my parents only talk about how great i was when i was small and i KNOW i was a bossy, snotty piece of shit much of my childhood. K. i know. you don't have to hide it. 

also, my mom has told me all the ways she was impatient and frustrated and freaked out and failing us when i was a little kid and i remember....none of it. i mean, none. not once. not once do i recall my mom being anything but loving and put-together. i know it happened. logically, it must have. she was taking care of 3 small children, one with major health issues and a developmental delay. she must have had terrible days. and i also know that she chewed ice and fretted constantly. but i only know that stuff because i've processed it as an adult. leaving childhood, i just felt like she thought us three kids were the bee's knees and that she was thrilled to be our mom.  and, ultimately, we all turned out to be functional, happy big kids/adults. (twitch twitch) so, basically she nailed it. but she didn't know it at the time, but hopefully she does now. i'm thinking i get that. 

another revelation is that these kids are different with mommy than they are with daddy. and how. 

robb's been noticing for a while that they'll shout for me, across the house, while sitting in his damned lap. he's like, "what are you doing? i can help you." and they're like, "OH." 

and i don't want to speak for all moms/dads, but in our experience, this mom gets the fiercest attachments with the most intense moments of intimacy, but also is the brunt of their most asshole-i-ness. 

i never don't have a wound on my face from anna's claws. i never don't have a wound on my self esteem from henry telling me hates me or him not listening to me as i beg him to do something. i really hate feeling inconsequential. and somehow my self worth is tied up into how they treat me. instead of just assuming he's a schmo who needs to be more respectful, i take it personally and also think maybe his bad behavior is a reflection on my piss-poor parenting? 

but, after last night, when i couldn't help but debrief on the rough day, he said, TOMORROW WILL BE A BETTER DAY. AGAIN. 

:) again. because as far as he was concerned, yesterday was super. ;)-

i have to believe they won't remember all the yelling that i do. all the swearing under (and sometimes over) my breath and the look of panic on my face all of the time. 

just like eventually, soon, probably, i won't remember the total anarchy of having two toddlers trying to kill me. i'll forget how they refuse every meal i ever try to feed them but want snacks constantly and i'll forget being held hostage in their bedrooms an hour after we started the bedtime dance, trying to remember how native americans snuck up on deer in the woods (on the balls of their feet? heels? nope. balls) while i creep around the floor creaks trying to get out with my life. 

i have to believe eventually they won't shout all the time and will actually sometimes quietly listen. i have to believe they get that i love them even as i'm losing my shit. 

it might not be until they have their own kids that they'll understand how hard i fought to stay positive and kept fighting for their wellness and my sanity, my marriage, and our family.  

“Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.” -Elizabeth Taylor

if you guys are ever reading this....henry james and anna kirsten....i love you. i've always loved you. i'm trying. 

and i'm sorry about that chair. 

it had it coming. 

My Fuck-Off List This Week (I'm Not Grumpy, You Are)

1. daylight saving time.....i can't even look at you. 

2. people (older, mostly) who stop me and the kids in the store all the time to say, "enjoy this time. kids grow up SO fast. cherish every blessed moment! it'll be over in a flash.' 

really. REALLY? last night my son stepped on my daughte'rs back and gave her a bloody nose. this morning, she bit his nipple and left teeth prints on skin through 3 shirts and then ran into the middle of the street, again. i'm actually trying to erase those memories from my mind as quickly as i can because i want to feel affection toward my offspring instead of intense fear/moderate resentment.  if i 'cherish' and dwell on all the things that these two violent tyrants do, i will end up locking myself out of the house, on PURPOSE this time, or going fetal and not coming back. 

look, i get that when you have grown kids, you'd give ANYTHING to have them tiny and cute again for a day, to hear their sweet thoughts and to be able to fix all their problems with your hugs. i respect that. but it is downright rude to dismiss how profoundly exhausting and anxiety-inducing and frustrating it is to have little kids. i mean, it is NOT for the weak. so don't make me feel guilty for having hard days, for crying in my car sometimes. because, look, old lady, YOU DID, TOO. 

i'm crazy in love with my kids and would run through fire for them. but i've been around long enough now to be suspicious that these little a-holes probably started the fire in the first place. 

being "mommy" is amazing. but "mommy" is only said with a sweet smile on top of footie pajamas some of the time. they other times it's screamed, it's whined, it's demanded, it's repeated in inhuman rapid-fire sequences without stopping for breath. it often is said with just the right tone that it clearly implies, MOMMY, YOU'RE FAILING ME. AGAIN. 

last night when we were 15 minutes late to a 30 minute karate class (#mailedit), i was screaming at the baby who was screaming at me and arching her back and refusing to get into her car seat because that's how we do, and henry reproached me with, YOU SHOULD SAY YOU'RE SORRY. WE'RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO YELL AT BAD GUYS. 

sigh. (breathe 2-3-4. you're right, buddy. i'm sorry. now tie your karate robe tighter, i can see your nipple wound).

they're worth all this guilt, and stress, and fear. of course they are. they're huge blessings. without a doubt. and i don't forget for a minute what a big fat miracle it is that they're here and they're safe and healthy and get to live with me in my house. BUT it's all there. you can't act like it's not part of the deal. i think it's totally OK to acknowledge that this is the best and worst of times. 

it's like when i got into PA school. i was so grateful and so excited, because it was hella competitive and a total honor just to be there in the first place, and i was geeked about the potential for a wonderful career at the end, but the middle part was HARD. it was sickeningly hard sometimes. i did not have fun most days. i ground my teeth down so far, i had no choice but to become a vegetarian. ;)

i was both being maxed out in both my excitement and my stress. and that's what this kid thing is like, too. sometimes i think my heart might explode from how much i love them. but then other times i'm just convinced they're trying to kill me. 

3. people (again, mostly older) who act like robb, being a dude, is some kind of war hero because he shows up as a parent. 

right now he's gone for 2 weeks on business. this is no big deal, right? the womenandchildren left behind can fend for themselves, right? that's always how it's been. men are kind of figureheads for the home anyway, they don't play an actual, real role, right? this is kind of the attitude we've encountered. this is just sexism, and i've talked about it before. it's not how it works anymore. him being gone is a big problem because he's half of our workforce. 

you know i don't want to applaud him for doing laundry. i'll thank him privately. we attempt to be aware and grateful for each other's efforts. (we often fail). but it was discovered by science a while back that penises don't actually get caught in the mechanisms of washing machines or dishwashers and men, can, in fact, do housework. it's also been found that both sexes can balance checkbooks, mow lawns, and soothe crying children.  he does half the home stuff and makes half the money, i do the other half. that's it. when both spouses are working outside the home, the inside the home stuff has to be split up or someone will get shivved. i don't make the rules. i just know how to follow them.  and it's pretty old-fashioned (read: shitty) for people to assume that because i'm female i'm MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY 1st and full-time PA 2nd and because he's male, he's employee 1st and DADDY 2nd. instead, we're together, both trying to give our kids the #1 spot with this sort of MODDY figure and also attend fully to our careers. we'll see how it goes. for now, pass the wine. 

herumph. 

4. sadness and grief. 

ain't nobody got time for it, but i'm still in all kinds of aches over all the people i've lost this year. shit. stop dying, y'all. i'm running out of chocolate. 

5. fundamentalists being jerks and making it into the media. 

i don't even. i can't. i mean, really. all religions. all sectors. just stop. whatever text you follow, i guarantee you there's a message of love in it that's repeated more often and louder than whatever bit you're clinging to that is leaving you self-important and violent. please re-focus. 

this week there's a loud mouth Christian author making the rounds right now about how wives owe sex to their husbands and giving men techniques to 'biblically claim' what is due them. (hashtag rape)

that's one of a million examples of similar stuff that makes me vomit in my mouth and makes me feel distant and cold to what is supposed to be the source of my warmth. 

i've reached out to some friends who believe in God to help me figure out why people are so mean to each other if they supposedly have this loving God on their side. they're wise and kind and i appreciate them holding my head up for me when i can't. 

-----------------------------------------

that's it for now, i guess. i could complain about the bad drivers in the farmers' market parking lot this morning, but no one expects smart cars full of greens to be driven well, right?

thanks again, for being my therapists. if you charge by the hour, then, uh, this took me 15 minutes. :) 

                                                                                      

Once Upon a Time There Was This Type A, Stressed-Out Lady Person Who Was Hanging From Loose Ends

so i'm sitting in a honda dealer's lounge while i type this. i'm waiting for them to make a replacement key (with fob and all the $$ fancy stuff) for my car because i 'aped' (to ape= to aggressive manhandle and destroy in a fit of rage) robb's copy of my key. 

it was a while ago and no one got hurt, other than that stupid key that had it coming. i don't remember exactly what was happening at the time of said aping, but i imagine i was 1) in a hurry, 2) being yelled at by some child, and 3) under-fed/caffeinated/slept. 

i get hangry, but i also get slangry. i'm not proud of this, but it's where i am. 

i've been thinking about "where i am" a lot lately.  i've not been feeling so healthy recently- for months, actually. like hair falling out, skin a mess (eyes puffy and red and wrinkly, looking like stoned Yoda....or maybe that's just regular Yoda. you KNOW they were smoking something on dagobah), itchy, dry skin all over, no energy,  that kind of thing...i've been casually running it by friends and doctors and doctor friends and finally i went and actually used some insurance and saw my NP...and tests and advisors all concluded that i'm just stressed and worn slap out.  (thank God there's nothing scary brewing)

ALSO. i'm turning 35 soon and it's kind of landing on me hard. not because i think it's old and not because i'm not happy about where i am in life. i really am. i'm very proud of and grateful for the way things are going. i even think my 17 y/o self would be happy with us. and we all know this is the goal. 

(she would probably wonder why my hair is so lame and why i now us the word 'noggin' instead of head, but she would be pretty thrilled about my virtue, my humor, my sex life, my job, and my kids (who are obsessed with 'the nightmare before christmas' and the muppets- she would like that about them). we got pretty lucky, we'd say. and then we'd talk for a while about whether it's luck or God or the family i was born into and all those benefits and we'd end up sharing a dark chocolate bar and some wine (i'd let her have just a sip) and i'd be jealous of her high boobs but pity her insecurity.)

anyway. 

i've been thinking about aging and i want to age gracefully and powerfully. i want to graduate from the cute phase of life where women are held/hold onto for too long and move into the wise, experienced, really useful and productive phase. i expect that with years come wisdom and confidence and resolve. i'm ready! i'm gonna have cool gray hair like gloria steinem and diane keaton! i'm not going to sink my money into potions that don't work to make me seem younger than i am. i am strong! i am beautiful! i am.....

man, this car dealer coffee is good. why is folgers out of an urn in a styrofoam cup so good? like gas station egg salad sandwiches. they're just terrible and i just love them. i don't make the rules. 

i've also been finding it hard to focus lately. 

ANYway. so why am i so stressed? here's what the therapist inside me has deduced (yes, he's austrian, yes, he smokes a pipe, no, you're weird): my expectations for myself are really high. i can laughingly say that my credo is "fucket" but in reality, i...don't. i want to do everything for everyone 100% exactly the best. i never want to say no, or that i can't. i never draw any limits because i always feel like there's more i can give. i'm not dead yet! 

a full-time, busy job with some pretty decent responsibilities along with the maintenance of 2 wonderful but very demanding (and not sleeping still) small human people is a lot to juggle. and then there's marriage and his job worries that become my worries and other family/friend relationships to keep track of and $$ concerns in the immediate and in the long-term sense and endless house cleaning and projects and cooking and prospective business ventures and...i can feel my shoulders hunch up toward my ear holes while i list these. 

and i'm a list checker. i love it. when i cross something off a list, i feel calm. when the item is not crossed off, stays not crossed off, just hangs around on the list forever- i never feel calm. robb astutely said the other day that right now "your whole life is loose ends." he's RIGHT! and it drives me berserk! (actually i couldn't remember exactly how he'd said it because my memory, like the rest of me, is sort of squishy and droopy now... "my whole life is hanging chads??" is that what he said?? no, that's not quite right...finally i remembered. CHECK!). 

the other thing. i'm really empathetic and compassionate. (to everyone but my husband, he would argue). it's a wonderful gift and i'm proud of it and i encourage it in my kids. but my heart bleeds often. i can very easily feel viscerally the pain of everyone i encounter-either in person or distantly. i take personally the struggles of my patients, i physically hurt when my kids cry, and i get a stomach ache when i read the news of people hurting each other. my TMJ pain acts up especially when groups of people are brutalized. and, since people are hurting and hurters make more hurt- that's everywhere all the time. 

it's making me go bald to feel this much but i'm not sure my baldness is actually helping anyone. i feel like i need to hear/read their stories so that the voices of these people and their struggles aren't lost into oblivion....but to what end? so i cry for them? so what? does that pluck a kid out of sexual slavery? so i share someone's painful life on facebook? does that un-starve a refugee? what am i doing for anyone but making myself feel less helpless? (and is that even working??) and at the end of the day, who am i really reaching besides my small circle of people? 

BUT if i fall apart physically or mentally (no labs for that, just have to measure # of key fobs destroyed) i can't even help my small circle of people. 

so, here's my conclusion. 1- i'm getting sick from stress, 2- my being sick will do no one any good, 3- i don't have to open my eyes wide ALL the time. i'm not serving anyone less by shutting out some of the pain. 4-it's not a crime to take some time for me. no, really, it's not. no, but seriously. 5- it's not a badge of success to run myself ragid- i'm allowed to find some damn peace. do some yoga, read a book, drink more water and less coffee. 

well, baby steps. i mean have you TRIED this card dealiership coffee? 

i got an adult coloring book and some jigsaw puzzles and i'm throwing myself a Xanax-alternative birthday party. 

because fucket, emiright? 

Mawage is Wot Bwings Us Togeder Today, That Bwessed Awangment, Dat Dweam wifin a Dweam...

we're on our way home from 5 (five) days away just the two of us. we went to orlando for a medical continuing education conference for me and to go to the theme parks together (but we will deny that and pistol whip you if you tell our children) and to belax on the beach. 

we're celebrating our 13th anniversary this week and we math'd and realized we've known each other for 20 years this year, and have been making googly eyes at each other for most of that time. being away, just the two of us has been really good, really renewing. we talked a lot about where we are and where we're going and snags we have in our communication, ways that we can make it easier on each other. we're lucky because we're still wanting to push for these things. we want to keep fighting for our marriage. that sounds stark, maybe, but it's a decision you have to kind of make daily, i think. i don't think marriage is a static situation. i think it involves re-upping your commitment all the time. 

and marriage isn't easy, right? we all know that. it's all about bending egos and apologizing and trying to get into and out of someone else's head and get what you need out of the relationship and life but also giving more than you thought you had to give. 

and marriage with kids is just ridiculous. because you have to do all the above things in 2 minute conversational bursts between emergencies. and on 5 hours of sleep. and while wading in urine and being yelled at. you gladly welcomed these little intruders into your house, but they are TERRIBLE roommates and very rude tiny dictators. they cause dramatic feels. like breathtaking joy and soul-crushing angst. so you become this jumpier, dumber, (fatter) version of the person you were when you first fell in love.  and all the attention and kisses you previously gave to your spouse is now funneled to the kids. like robb astutely put, "you only have so many fucks to give per day, and the kids tend to get them all." exactly. bingo. i'm all out of fucks by the end of the day and he gets NONE FUCKS. 

so...being away just the two of us, it was nice to reserve all my fucks for....well this is getting awkward. you get the idea.  

we're pretty (shocked) grateful that we still enjoy time together and can surprise each other and make each other laugh. it's been huge to have a few days where we can quietly discuss things without anyone interrupting us or needing our attention. everything was just easy and fun 

(this is a brilliant post on this subject from @foreverymom. i really encourage you to read it if you haven't: http://www.foreverymom.com/a-letter-to-my-husband-in-this-weird-phase-of-life-my-heart-still-longs-for-you/)...

and i'm feeling more light and free than i've felt in ages. in real life, my life is full of decisions, most of which impact other people. whether it's at work or at home. so it was remarkable to have only inconsequential choices in front of me. i mean, i went to a conference and learned good stuff every day, but that was just a matter of opening up my brain bucket and drinking free coffee. it's nice to learn new things when it's outside of the context of cramming for an exam.  

and mostly, for 5 straight days, my hardest choices were like, rocks or frozen? (rocks). coffee or wine? (yes). you want to go on the really huge scary roller coaster and do magic tricks with your wand? (yes, yes i do). wouldn't it be more responsible to go to bed now instead of staying up? (no, i don't care. shut up, no one likes you ). you want to swim in the atlantic ocean in all your clothes even though sharks and currents and fish-butt smelling luggage? (yes, correct. that's just what i want). 

so thanks to my mom (and dad, and in-laws, and sister and brother-in-law and all the good folks of the village who maintained the kids while we drank tequila) for keeping the kids so i can be a better me, and spouse, and upon my return, mom. 

(i don't think they even realized we were gone.....perfect.)

robb is, wisely and lovingly, always trying to make me a better me. he says i need to improve my conclusions in my writing. he's right- i get tired and bored and i have a tendency to just just hastily wrap-up my posts. 

so here we go: 

marriage is good because it maintains social order and reduces the incidence of syphilis, but it is difficult and cannot be treated with penicillin. so you have to encourage it and give it some time to breathe once in a while. preferably at the beach. 

how was that, honey?