Not Calm (dot com)

Really, truly, embarrassing. Or, maybe just kind of embarrassing. Whatever.

(Found this in my drafts folder and figured I had better post it before November to make sure that I didn't cheat at NaBloPoMo. )

My kids love this song by Sublime called "What I Got."  I actually really like it, too.  But the lyrics -- before the guy even draws a breath, he's singing about lighting up a cigarette.  He also says (sings) I can still get high, I can play the git-tar like a mo (partially obscured -- cause it's the "clean" version) f (vowel subtracted) kin riot.

Oops.

The kids LOVE to sing the part that says, I don't get angry when my mom smokes pot (and I  don't, so it is funny).

But that is not the embarrassing bit.  What's totally embarrassing is that until Lex talked me into downloading that from iToonz, I thought it was a Beck song.  It was the whistling and the scritchy-scratchy turntable bit they bust out in the middle. 

I know, you're all, WHAT A MUSICAL FAUX PAX. 

Since I'm sharing the embarrassing, I'll admit this: the second I get a cold that gives me a scratchy voice, I'm all over the outgoing messages on whatever answering services and machines are around.  I also sing Janice Joplin nonstop.

I had to order this. 

And these.

I love Etsy.

22/37x365: Louise

every time I visited my grandparents, you’d come over from next door with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.  Still warm.  When I found out that you kept dough in your freezer, I was delighted by your ingenuity.    

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21/37x365: Steve S.

After the screw was removed from your leg, you gave it to me so I could wear it on a necklace.  After high school you married so young and had twins.  Now they’re old as we were.

This is part of x365

already standing on the ground

So, I've been doing the x365 thang, and am about to start NaBloPoMo and also a photography class. 

right

I'm already too busy, might as well add more stuff to the list.

I had lunch with the wonderful and fun Elkit on Sunday.  She's got a busy month coming up, too, of NaNoWriMo, NaBloPoMo, and bacon.  She makes bacon cookies.  Um, what gluten intolerance?  Huh?  Anyway, we ended up just walking around town and window shopping and strolling, and as Elkit pointed out, it was nice to just stroll.  Kind of like going to yoga to just breathe.

Nathan and Lex scared me and the girls so badly tonight.  They came back from a friend's house while I was reading to the girls in my bed.  I didn't hear them come in, so when I heard a knocking on my bedroom door (or was it the wall? or coming from next door?  from the garage?) I called out "Hello?"  There was no answer, but the knocking softly continued.  I figured it was the boys, but I had a genuine moment where I was afraid it was not the boys.  They popped into the bedroom, and even though she could see Nathan when he jumped at us and yelled, Willow was terrified by him.  It even made my heart pound, and I watched him the whole time.

Willow cried for a long time, and Nathan felt terrible.  He held her and told her it was okay and then read from Little House in the Big Woods. to the girls.  It was sweet. 

Lex wrote a poem tonight that totally blew my mind.  I won't share it, because it's really personal, but I will say that he can hang onto it for five years and turn it in as a class assignment when he's a sophomore. 

I'm nervous about NaBloPoMo.  I may have to resort to a blogging suggestion book or something. . .

20/37x365: Bert

You lived across from my grandparents; the neighbor they looked out for because he was older.  You always had jars of candy for company.  The people who live there now help out my grandmother.  I’m so grateful.

I'm participating in x365 -- and so should you

19/37x365: Mr. Ward

Rumor was you broke a paddle over a girl’s butt for saying bitch. When I asked if the sun already burned out and we were feeling the last of it, you simply sent me to the hallway. 

I'm participating in x365

18/37x365: Mary E.

The best compliment (at least about physical beauty) I ever heard was delivered from my former husband to you: Wow, Mary, you look like the women that bombers had painted on their airplanes in World War Two.

I'm participating in x365

17/37x365: Mr.Rizzan

We rounded the corner at the exact same time, your mug of hot, hot chocolate down the front of my glowworm nightgown.  I was afraid it had melted into me, it stung so badly.  You: flustered, sorry.

I'm participating in x365

A plan, followed by action

The other night I was google chatting with Jenny.  (Umm, apparently I curse a lot?)

mei have to get my kids' halloween costumes together TOMORROW

 Three: Oh!

 me: so they can go to a party friday at 3

 Three: They are all going to be bums!

 me: i FUCKING hate halloween

9:50 PM Three: You are all going as bags of groceries!

 Or! Trash@!

 They are all trash@!

 What is up with the@ sign.

 You could make them smurfs.

 Blue eyeshadow in bulk

 And red pants.

 Or wait.  White.

 White pants.

 me: they have SPECIFIC ideas about what they will wear

9:51 PM very

 Three: Oh ho.

 me: fucking

 specific

 but

 totally subject to change

 Three: Well, that's too bad. Hobos.

 me: at any moment

 Three: Here's your stick with a bandana tied on it.

 me: crisco & coffee ground beard, kids!

 Three: That's right.

 me: omg

 sophie would be the cutest hobo ever

 Three: I know!

9:52 PM And the boys?

 So cute.

 me: alex is going to be a ghost

 nathan has an elaborate idea mostly based on things we already have

 Three: Sheet + bowtie around neck = awesome ghost.

 me: but he wants me to alter them in impossible ways

 Three: Oh, of course.

 HOBO.

9:53 PM You can make him a "grunge" rock star if hobo is too uncool.

 Same costume.

 Minus the bandana on a stick.

 me: he MUST have a sword and sythe

 and wear his scream mask

9:54 PM Three: Well.

 That's pretty damn picky.

 For A HOBO

 me: i know

 ha

 you are so damn funny

 Three: Lucy has been changing up her costume ideas for weeks.

9:55 PM me: soph too

 now she wants to wear willow's ladybug costume

 Three: She has a fairy costume, but now wants to be a Mage, like from World of Warcraft at night, and a black cat during the day.

 I'm like, look over there!  It's a HOBO costume

 me: i am going to run to old navy tomorrow at lunch and see if they have any more

 haah

 soph wants to wear several as well

9:56 PM Three: Dude, what the hell?

 It's Halloween not a fashion show.

 

And, the very next night. . .

This was our practice run, so the beard (Hello Kitty body lotion + Peet's Coffee) is a little wonky.  She'll have to lose the crucifix earrings, but she's got the plaid flannel shirt and bandanna on a stick.   I even talked her into using a giant empty pineapple juice can as a candy bag.  She came up with a sign that says "Give me candy.  I am a HOBO." 

Thanks, Jenny!

16/37x365: Taylor

Our mothers were friends and so we spent lots of time together.  Once you came over for Thanksgiving with your siblings and parents.  Your table manners were so atrocious, I CRIED later.  You totally ruined my Thanksgiving.

I'm participating in x365

15/37x365: Paul Bell Jr.

you made me a State of California Alternate ID in your workshop, I still have it.  Your house was filled with books, newspaper clippings, photos, and stories.  I think about you every time I file my taxes.

I'm participating in x365

Blog Day for the MOTHERS Act

I remember the low point I hit when my second child was just a few weeks old.  It was so low, in fact, that I am not ready to serve up all the details.  I never did seek professional help, because I was so filled with managing to get through all the challenging moments that made up my days. 

Depression landed square on my head at a time when my then-husband was dealing with the most emotionally painful experience of his life, which I can't go into here.  Suffice it to say, he is completely and totally excused from any responsibility for urging me to see a counselor.  The thing is, I *knew* I was depressed and I knew that I was possibly in danger.  I remember driving down the highway and thinking that maybe I should drive straight into the sound wall instead of following the curve of the road along it. 

One thing depression does so effectively is dissuade people from asking for help.  Because, seriously, why bother?  We can't expect women with postpartum depression to check in with themselves and decide to seek therapy -- of course, many do, but I would bet that more don't.  So, please, put a phone call in to your Senator's office and let her (or him) know you are demanding their support on this critical issue. Here's a link to a searchable list of phone numbers for you.

 

Shamelessly copied and pasted from BlogHer.com:

On Wednesday October 24th, BlogHer, Postpartum Support International and Postpartum Progress are joining together to host Blog Day for the MOTHERS Act. We're asking bloggers from around the country to write about the MOTHERS Act for postpartum depression on the 24th and to encourage their readers to pick up the phone that day, call their Senators and urge them to endorse this critical legislation. I hope you will join us in this effort, which is part of the overall BlogHers Act 2007-2008 initiative to improve maternal health.

What is the MOTHERS Act? The Moms Opportunity to Access Help, Education, Research and Support for Postpartum Depression Act, or MOTHERS Act (S. 1375), will ensure that new mothers and their families are educated about postpartum depression, screened for symptoms and provided with essential services. In addition, it will increase research into the causes, diagnoses and treatments for postpartum depression. The bill is sponsored by Senators Menendez and Durbin.

14/37x365: Mr. Walker

met with US presidents, a representative of the Cherokee Nation.  Once he sat in the field talking to my brother who was not even five years old.  False books on his bookshelf hiding an eagle feather headdress.

I'm participating in x365 and so should you

13/37x365: Steven

When we were seven, you proved your love for me by biting into a live catfish you caught bare handed.  You used to knock me down, pull out my chair, chase me.  What ever happened to you?

I'm posting daily for x365

 

Okay.  I have to break ranks and go over the 37 words.  Steven went to the same after school care I did in Richardson, Texas.  It was the late 1970s and he had to wear these big old clunky hearing aids.  They frustrated the hell out of him and more than once he flushed them down the toilet.  I hope they were incredibly expensive, because I remember his mom beating the shit out of him one time at pick up when he'd done it, yet again.  He ran away from her across the big field out front where the wild onions grew.  We used to dig them up to protect us from vampires, and when I can smell onions on the wind coming from Salinas or Gilroy or wherever the smell floats here from, I am transported back to my childhood, complete with the swirly effects and do-da-lee-do-da-lee-do music.  I'm kinda not kidding.  We didn't ever include Steven in anything, because he scared us.  He used to chase me and try to kiss me with his slobbery mouth.  He shoved me backwards off a picnic bench one time.  Hard.  Really hard.  The day with the fish -- we went roller skating around Bachman lake in Dallas and there were fish right at the shore.  He looked me in the eye and grabbed one and then bit into it.  I think.  My memory is not so good for things long ago.  I do remember that he had red hair.  I can see his face.  I know he bit the fish, but maybe it was already dead in the water. 

It's really amazing how much things have changed.  If Steven were a kid now, at least in our school district, he'd have pretty great services and his mom wouldn't get away with wacking him -- at least not publicly like that.  He'd have a hearing aide that wasn't so awful and embarrassing.  I can't think of a good reason for not just hating his guts, because he really did hurt me and scare me, but I never did.  I remember when he left the after school care that I was sorry to see him go in some ways. 

I hope he ended up an okay adult.  It's hard to imagine that he could have, but then people are funny that way.  You think someone has everything they need to be okay and they just aren't, while the ones who should have no reason to be kind sometimes just are. 

12/37x365: Tim W.

sat next to me in biology class until he killed himself, supposedly leaving a note blaming everything on Matt, who sat next to me in art.  I took Tim’s chair down from our desk the next morning.

I'm participating in x365

11/37x365: Joe

is probably sixteen.  I saw him talking to his dad outside the martial arts studio as I left yoga class. He was looking down, shuffling his feet on the sidewalk,  Dad, it’s not that kind of party.

I'm participating in x365

10/37x365: Dennis

said goodbye to his wife, left for work every morning, his unemployment a secret.  One gorgeous blue San Francisco day he jumped from  the Golden Gate bridge. My mom and I there hours earlier, just by chance. 

This is part of x365

9/37x365: Marcella

was from Argentina.  She worked with me at a coffee shop, while she and her boyfriend saved to go to Oregon. A customer once asked her how she liked America.  I AM AMERICAN she spat at him.   

I'm participating in x365

8/37x365: Mr. Ford

was Missy’s dad.  I was twelve, in junior high, when he showed me how to mix White Russians (only for him, not us) and how to shoot empty coke cans from the end of a leaf blower.

Brought to you by x365

7/37x365: Kevin

was a smooth operator  Eight years old, putting the moves on all the girls in after school care.  We played Happy Days; he was Fonz and talked us into lining up to kiss him.  Cool, he’d say.

I am participating in x365

I'm a lonely little petunia in a pumpkin patch

It's been raining here and so I got to wear my groovy rain boots.  People who say money can't buy happiness are mistaken.  My happiness was only 20 bux last year on ebay.

Sophie has a field trip scheduled on Wednesday.  Two words:  Pumpkin Patch.  No, make that three words:
Pumpkin
Patch
BUS

She's so excited that she spits whenever she talks about it and I have to step back with my hands out over my face.  But, today -- today her teacher told the class that if it's raining like this on Wednesday the trip may be canceled. 

Obviously, she doesn't know that Sophie will torment her all day long if they are stuck at school.  Oh, they'll be going to the pumpkin patch one way or another.  Sophie has already got her umbrella out and ready.  I watched her kneel down in front of the fridge tonight while I packed up tomorrow's lunches.  She said (I swear she is Salvador Dali reincarnated.  It so totally fits.) Please Lord of the Flies or Jesus or God DO NOT let it rain on Wednesday.  Or I will faint and go to heaven and you will see me there.  Amen.    (That "see me there" part? A TOTAL THREAT)

I asked her if she was praying to the fridge (which, okay, I did clean it out really well yesterday so I get that) and she turned her firy, withering gaze upon me and said It CANNOT rain on Wednesday with no trace of a smile.

I looked at her and said, Dude, I *know*  That would be rotten. 

MOM! Give me a marker so I can write it on the calandar!

(yes, it says Feld Thrip!!)

Then, after she finished writing, she turned to me and laughed.  You called me dude!  she shrieked. 

So, um, Lord of the Flies, Jesus & God -- please make it so that Wednesday is dry enough for the first graders to go to the Pumpkin Patch on the BUS.  p l e a s e.

amen

6/37x365: Caroline

We met on the sidelines, watching our brothers play soccer.  Not long after, you were walking on the beach with your family and a wave took you out to sea. I wanted to go to your funeral.   

x365

MissFit

My post is up over at CISWY.  Go read it, please, and then write one of your own. 

5/37x365: Maria

I remember the stripe of grey in your long black hair, though you were only ten.  You were the most talented dancer in a class of girls all hoping to become ballerinas.  Your poor older sister, green.

I'm participating in x365

4/37x365: Ginger

You were the cool neighbor two apartments down – a late seventies teenaged girl  with stick straight brown hair. I remember the day your dog Patches was run over by the mailtruck. You cried and cried and cried. 

Can I sit with you?

I finally sent in a post for the Can I sit with you? project.  I could probably write one for almost every year of school (including college!), but I decided to go with some highlights from the first grade.

I now feel less of a need to discuss the horror of first grade with a therapist.  You should try it!

3/37x365: Ernesto Tomasini

  Ernesto 
  Originally uploaded by jenijen

Angels jealously pout in the corners of their clouds when you sing.  You were so kind to me when I was nervous and it’s not fair how photogenic you are.  I wish the light had been better.

I am participating in x365

2/37x365: Victor

Victor helped me bus tables at the coffee shop where I worked seventeen years ago.  He brought his own towel.  His spine bent him forward, his ears made him yell.  I think he was homeless.  Maybe not. 

I'm participating in x365

Toast therapy

Last night, Sophie had a terrible dream.  It woke her up and she woke me up and she cried for ages.  I let her sleep in this morning and took her to school twenty minutes late.  Before we left, she had a piece of toast.  She peeled the crust off and broke it into bits and arranged it on her plate.  I came in to find her explaining to Willow what she was doing: This is me, this is you, this is your friend and her baby sister.  This one is mom, and this one is Nate.  We're all in this cage
(made of bigger crust sections) because we're dead because my teacher killed us with knives.

Willow sat there solemnly nodding her head.  Later when John came home from work as we were leaving for school *, the girls filled him in.  We were all skeletons because we were dead! they shouted.  We got stabbed here (in the eye), here (the stomach) and HERE! (the neck).

She seemed in a much better mood after getting that all out of her system.  I'm still creeped out, though.

Lex turned 11 yesterday and we had supper together, just the two of us.  It was lovely.  Got him this for his birthday and he is stoked.  Totally.  He took lots of video of us getting ready to go this morning.  Should be an interesting thing to watch. . .

*he works at night sometimes

1/37x365: Craig Morton

You were my best friend Becky's boyfriend.  You were funny and had blond hair.  In fourth grade, you moved away to Florida, but first you wrote in my autograph book: Craig Morton NOT of the Denver Broncos.

I'm participating in x365

Chucks: a history (hugely abbreviated)

I went on my lunch break Thursday to the shoe store, looking for some orange or green Converse All-Stars.  Low tops.  They didn't have any, so I ended up with a pair of black ones.  I wore them to work (I almost typed typed "school" which tells you how long it's been since I last had Chucks, not counting the couple of pair that my little sister gave me when they got too small for her) on Friday and by lunch time my feet were numb.  It's not the shoes, it's my feet.  They need a little more support. 

I came home and took them off, stretched my poor toes out, rubbed my arches.  The shoes aren't too small.  In fact, they're a half size too big.  Maybe I just tied them too tight?  Anyway, Lex saw me and said Hey, Mom.  Nice Chucks.  New?  I said yes, but I thought I couldn't wear them.  I looked at him.  At his feet.

Want them?  I asked.  He did and they fit.  We compared our feet.  They're the same size.  Exactly.  I thought about when he was a baby how I'd just stare at his fingers and toes because they were so impossibly small and perfect.  The nail on his pinky toe was almost too little to touch.  Now he's big and perfect and wearing my shoes. 

When I was probably fifteen I showed up at my grandparent's house in black high top Chucks.  My grandfather let out a whoop when he saw my shoes.  He played college basketball in the 1930s and they all wore Converse.  He was so happy to see that kids still were wearing them fifty years later.

So, yesterday as Lex tried on the shoes, jumping, running, seriously stomping the ground, I got a little teary.  He's so big.  My grandfather, and probably all his teammates, are gone.  I have these great memories of him sitting in front of the tv on his coffee table bench, slapping his knee when someone made an impossible basket.  He would point and yell at the tv when guys jumped up and hung off the hoop, Look at him, HANGING from the basket!  I'm not sure if he thought it was sacrilege or was just remembering when he could do that, too.  Not that he would. 

Well, hello there.

It shocks me to see that there aren't any recent entries, because I blog in my head ALL THE TIME.  Weird.

I am happy that autumn is here.  It's not cold (non-mountainous region of California -- duh) but is chilly enough that when I get in the car to go someplace (and the car is sitting in the sun) it feels really good if it's nice and hot inside.  Then I put on music that is sort of sad, like the Mountain Goats (Get Lonely) and drive around feeling good and warm and singing at the top of my lungs.  I like that.

So, the master cleanse left me lightheaded and faint on day five.  I think it had everything to do with the medicine I must take and so I stopped.  I wasn't really hungry during it, except for after a bikram class when I went to my car and thought for one beat too long about eating a receipt in my purse.  My first meal after, not counting veggie broth, was mashed up hard boiled egg yolks, chopped roma tomatoes, rosemary olive oil, & sea salt -- all mixed up.  It was really, I mean, REALLY, good.  Course, after I ate I felt like I'd swallowed a softball.  At least I used lots of the rosemary olive oil and got to have lovely scented burps to go with my pain. 

The reintroduction of coffee was a blessed event, and I'm more than ready to go face the hour + drive home from the office now (blogging on the job with BlogHer is A-OK!  And.  It's after 5) so I can grab a gluten free beer from my stash in the garage. 

I've signed up for NaBloPoMo.  I'm scared.