At TigerGrrl's birthday party, I chatted with several of the other parents. All the mothers asked how I was doing with lots of sympathy and during the conversations it came up that one mother (half-Lebanese) had returned in time for the party with her son due to a vacation with her family in Lebanon that was curtailed due to recent news events. I can't imagine having to evacuate from bombing with my children. Well, I can imagine it, but that's all I have to do.
Less than two weeks until the first of two spinal surgeries that NSLOS gets to have over a three day period. NSLOS had pretty severe scoliosis and has had three spinal fusions. My new understanding (after talking with LOS) of her present condition is this: the rods inserted to straighter her spine and the fusion have led to a lot of pressure being applied to her spine right where the fusion ends(also exacerbated, I believe, by her past obesity -- now she's just overweight, but she used to be morbidly obese). She's in a lot of pain, and the pressure (and some calcification, I think, but I could be wrong?) threaten to press severely enough on her spine so that if the pressure is not relieved she could end up a paraplegic, paralyzed from the waist down. This relief of pressure will be done in two surgeries, one through the abdomen (the front) and then the other from the back, a few days apart. This can't be fun.
Meanwhile, Big Grampa, who will be visiting NSLOS, will also fly down and visit me. Ex-Marine Fred will take Big Grampa and TigerGrrl golfing, and Big Grampa will take me out to dinner, and much showing off in the swimming pool for Big Grampa will occur.
My life isn't bad. I'd like to be sleeping more than four hours a night, but my life isn't bad.
July 31, 2006
July 28, 2006
Only Connect: Sex, Depression, and ADHD
Anyone who has been reading this blog for while will know that I will do a fair amount, but up with a lot, to have physical human contact. Unfortunately, the one thing I won't do right now is actually do the stuff involved in the emotional care and feeding of a human man. I just can't. Don't wanna. Too boring.
My motto right now is "It takes a heck of a man to be better than none." And none is definitely better right now.
I never actually read Fear of Flying, it simply never resonated with me. But I finally have an inkling of what Ms. Jong was seeking with the whole zipless fuck quest.
I like sex. I like sex with a man. I would actually like to have, in the forseeable future, satisfying sex with a man. I just don't want to actually have to get to know him or listen to him talk. Or tell him he was wonderful. Or not squelch his fragile ego. Or reassure him that he's the best. Or agree with his wacko political beliefs.
And sadly, from a health and safety point of view (as well as from the physical satisfaction perspective), a woman actually has to go through the bother of getting to know a guy to get satisfying sex (that doesn't involve herself or her own mechanical devices). I just can't bring myself to do that.
I cancelled a date tonight because I thought I couldn't bear to sit through his hopeful spiel. I'm not interested. I don't care. This is exacerbated by the fact that this man only likes "American" food, and didn't want to do anything but dinner and a movie.
Don't worry. I was polite. I called. I cancelled. I said circumstances had arisen (ennui and complete and utter boredom and annoyance) and I had to cancel. I didn't schedule another time. But I didn't stand the guy up. I actually feel a bit bad. But I feel worse for me.
I like to feel excited and enthusiastic. Excitement and enthusiam (for men) are living in a galaxy far, fary away and long, long ago. I can still get excited for my girls, but realistically, no guy is as cute and entertaining as they are.
I think I'll take a break (I've been taking a break, this was my first date in a few months, but it's clearly a non-starter) for a bit. At least until the divorce is final, if I can last that long -- at least three or four months.
Goodnight.
My motto right now is "It takes a heck of a man to be better than none." And none is definitely better right now.
I never actually read Fear of Flying, it simply never resonated with me. But I finally have an inkling of what Ms. Jong was seeking with the whole zipless fuck quest.
I like sex. I like sex with a man. I would actually like to have, in the forseeable future, satisfying sex with a man. I just don't want to actually have to get to know him or listen to him talk. Or tell him he was wonderful. Or not squelch his fragile ego. Or reassure him that he's the best. Or agree with his wacko political beliefs.
And sadly, from a health and safety point of view (as well as from the physical satisfaction perspective), a woman actually has to go through the bother of getting to know a guy to get satisfying sex (that doesn't involve herself or her own mechanical devices). I just can't bring myself to do that.
I cancelled a date tonight because I thought I couldn't bear to sit through his hopeful spiel. I'm not interested. I don't care. This is exacerbated by the fact that this man only likes "American" food, and didn't want to do anything but dinner and a movie.
Don't worry. I was polite. I called. I cancelled. I said circumstances had arisen (ennui and complete and utter boredom and annoyance) and I had to cancel. I didn't schedule another time. But I didn't stand the guy up. I actually feel a bit bad. But I feel worse for me.
I like to feel excited and enthusiastic. Excitement and enthusiam (for men) are living in a galaxy far, fary away and long, long ago. I can still get excited for my girls, but realistically, no guy is as cute and entertaining as they are.
I think I'll take a break (I've been taking a break, this was my first date in a few months, but it's clearly a non-starter) for a bit. At least until the divorce is final, if I can last that long -- at least three or four months.
Goodnight.
July 27, 2006
Movies
Cookie has kindly given us a list of his top 50 movies. I can't say these are the best of anything, but I will list some movies that I really, really enjoy. I've probably posted a list similar, but not identical, to this list previously. Deal with it. Please remember, I've seen 3 movies in the last year: that's all. So there may be some gaps. Big gaps you could drive a semi through. Big, continent-sized gaps.
But here goes:
1-- The Year of Living Dangerously (Before Mel Gibson was wacko, and Sigourney Weaver -- who's as tall as I am or taller, btw -- at one point looms over him to kiss him. Yum.)
2-- Italian for Beginners
3-- Woman on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown
4-- Passionfish
5-- The King of Hearts
6-- Lawrence of Arabia
7-- The Ladykillers
8-- Pulp Fiction
9-- Return of the Secaucus Seven (Any film that gave the world John Sayles is a great film. That is all I have to say.)
10-- Stop Making Sense
11-- Pauline at the Beach
12-- Freaks
13-- Casablanca
14-- The Philadelphia Story
15-- Jules and Jim
16-- Terminator and Terminator II (Hey, this is a list of films I like. No more, no less.)
17-- Alien and Aliens, etc.
18-- The Discrete Charm of the Bourgeousie
19-- The Battle of Algiers
20-- 1900
21-- Z
22-- Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
23-- Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey
24-- Tampopo
25-- A Taxing Woman
26-- A Taxing Woman's Return
27-- Age of Innocense
28-- Married to the Mob
29-- Annie Hall
30-- Terms of Endearment
31-- Mad Max and The Road Warrior, but not Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome
32-- The Piano
33-- Blood Simple
34-- Raising Arizona
35-- My Brilliant Career
36-- Gallipoli
37-- Jonah Who Will Be 25 In the Year 2000
38-- Night of the Shooting Stars
39-- Hear My Song
40-- Gregory's Girl
41-- The Commitments
42-- The Last Wave
43-- Citizen Kane
44-- Treasure of the Sierra Madre
45-- Ordinary People
46-- Broadcast News
47-- The Best Years of Our Lives
48-- Days of Heaven
49-- Hearts and Minds
50-- Paths of Glory
51-- The Marriage of Maria Braun
52-- Amadeus
53-- A Zed and Two Naughts
54-- The Garden of the Finzi Continis
55-- Chocolate (the one with Isaach de Bankole, not the one with Johnny Depp)
56-- Don Juan de Marco
57-- Heathers
58-- Avalon
59-- Tin Men
60-- Diner
61-- The Stunt Man
62-- Anne of a Thousand Days
63-- An Unmarried Woman
64-- Alice Doesn't Live Hear Any More
65-- Cabaret
66-- El Norte
67-- Salvador
68-- Mary, Queen of Scots (with Vanessa Redgrave and Glenda Jackson -- Hey, I liked it!)
69-- Blue Velvet
70-- Grand Canyon
71-- She's Gotta Have It
72-- Muriel's Wedding
73-- Das Boot.
74-- Like Water for Chocolate
75-- A Room With a View
76-- Traffic
77-- Lenny
78-- One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
79-- They Shoot Horses, Don't They
80-- Rosemary's Baby
81-- Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex, But Were Afraid to Ask
82-- Choose Me
83-- Entre Nous
84-- The Tin Drum
85-- Fantasia
86-- Stalingrad
87-- Rashomon
88-- Seven Samurai
89-- All About My Mother
90-- The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover
91-- Run, Lola, Run
92-- Wings of Desire
93-- Tell Me a Riddle
94-- Gone With the Wind
95-- Matewan
96-- Chariots of Fire
97-- The Wizard of Oz
98-- Blade and Blade II
99-- The Trip to Bountiful
100--Little Voice
Wow. I thought I wouldn't hit fifty, but I'm at 100 and could still likst some more: The English Patient, oh, and how could I omit The Full Monty? Kind Hearts and Coronets, The Day Trippers, Cria, I'll stop. Some good movies out there. Oh, and Lilo & Stitch and Shrek. Hey, I like them.
But here goes:
1-- The Year of Living Dangerously (Before Mel Gibson was wacko, and Sigourney Weaver -- who's as tall as I am or taller, btw -- at one point looms over him to kiss him. Yum.)
2-- Italian for Beginners
3-- Woman on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown
4-- Passionfish
5-- The King of Hearts
6-- Lawrence of Arabia
7-- The Ladykillers
8-- Pulp Fiction
9-- Return of the Secaucus Seven (Any film that gave the world John Sayles is a great film. That is all I have to say.)
10-- Stop Making Sense
11-- Pauline at the Beach
12-- Freaks
13-- Casablanca
14-- The Philadelphia Story
15-- Jules and Jim
16-- Terminator and Terminator II (Hey, this is a list of films I like. No more, no less.)
17-- Alien and Aliens, etc.
18-- The Discrete Charm of the Bourgeousie
19-- The Battle of Algiers
20-- 1900
21-- Z
22-- Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
23-- Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey
24-- Tampopo
25-- A Taxing Woman
26-- A Taxing Woman's Return
27-- Age of Innocense
28-- Married to the Mob
29-- Annie Hall
30-- Terms of Endearment
31-- Mad Max and The Road Warrior, but not Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome
32-- The Piano
33-- Blood Simple
34-- Raising Arizona
35-- My Brilliant Career
36-- Gallipoli
37-- Jonah Who Will Be 25 In the Year 2000
38-- Night of the Shooting Stars
39-- Hear My Song
40-- Gregory's Girl
41-- The Commitments
42-- The Last Wave
43-- Citizen Kane
44-- Treasure of the Sierra Madre
45-- Ordinary People
46-- Broadcast News
47-- The Best Years of Our Lives
48-- Days of Heaven
49-- Hearts and Minds
50-- Paths of Glory
51-- The Marriage of Maria Braun
52-- Amadeus
53-- A Zed and Two Naughts
54-- The Garden of the Finzi Continis
55-- Chocolate (the one with Isaach de Bankole, not the one with Johnny Depp)
56-- Don Juan de Marco
57-- Heathers
58-- Avalon
59-- Tin Men
60-- Diner
61-- The Stunt Man
62-- Anne of a Thousand Days
63-- An Unmarried Woman
64-- Alice Doesn't Live Hear Any More
65-- Cabaret
66-- El Norte
67-- Salvador
68-- Mary, Queen of Scots (with Vanessa Redgrave and Glenda Jackson -- Hey, I liked it!)
69-- Blue Velvet
70-- Grand Canyon
71-- She's Gotta Have It
72-- Muriel's Wedding
73-- Das Boot.
74-- Like Water for Chocolate
75-- A Room With a View
76-- Traffic
77-- Lenny
78-- One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
79-- They Shoot Horses, Don't They
80-- Rosemary's Baby
81-- Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex, But Were Afraid to Ask
82-- Choose Me
83-- Entre Nous
84-- The Tin Drum
85-- Fantasia
86-- Stalingrad
87-- Rashomon
88-- Seven Samurai
89-- All About My Mother
90-- The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover
91-- Run, Lola, Run
92-- Wings of Desire
93-- Tell Me a Riddle
94-- Gone With the Wind
95-- Matewan
96-- Chariots of Fire
97-- The Wizard of Oz
98-- Blade and Blade II
99-- The Trip to Bountiful
100--Little Voice
Wow. I thought I wouldn't hit fifty, but I'm at 100 and could still likst some more: The English Patient, oh, and how could I omit The Full Monty? Kind Hearts and Coronets, The Day Trippers, Cria, I'll stop. Some good movies out there. Oh, and Lilo & Stitch and Shrek. Hey, I like them.
I Want to Say This About That
One thing I want to make clear about my actions as described in my previous post: I am not proud of my behavior. I should have simply said no to NarcissoChick from the start. I shouldn't have sniped at her. That's just a pissing contest, and nothing is gained, and harm is actually done. I could have just said: "I will continue to read to my child." That's all I needed to say.
But I actually did what I describe, and it makes a good story and one that is actually true without hyperbole (I've actually toned it down a little, believe it or not).
But it makes me wonder: why was my first reaction to accommodate NarcissoChick's unreasonable demand? Why didn't I recognize it as unreasonable to begin with? My daughter actual suffered, oh, 45 seconds of disappointment due to my lack of perspicacity. Bad Mama. I don't want that to happen again.
She can and will, believe me, suffer disappointment due to reasonable requests from others, but when a nutcase asks me to deprive her of a a real pleasure (Harry Potter!), she should be secure in knowing that I'll say a muted version of "Fuck, no!"
Obviously, the whole accommodation thing makes me think about PdeFF and the last few years of my marriage. I need to think about this. I'm not afraid of sticking up for myself, but I also believe in being considerate of others (well, sometimes) and mannerly and kind (OK, I'm delusional, really). Or I'd like to think those are my values. Yet when I fold on things I should stand firm on (PdeFF and most choices in our last years), then there is only more ill will created when I come to my senses.
Something to think about. Like Tara on that pinnacle of television serials, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I need to make sure that the backbone implant takes. New Backbone!Foilwoman, to the rescue.
And NSLOS actually has spinal surgery (two surgeries, a few days apart) in a few weeks. No more talk of vertebrae and spines. Of course, that's why even though I'm exhausted, I can't sleep.
I wonder. Bronze John, writer of my fantasies that I'm not smart or creative enough to think or write, but I'll egotistically claim a like with him anyway, half a world away and upside down though he is, has discovered and described a new mental health index, the Recommended Deviancy Index* (see here). Are my perceptions off by over-exposure to mental health problems, as described below: Mother (now FoilMormor), major depression and "nervous breakdown" requiring hospitalization when I was thirteen, cured by attending law school and subsequent divorce from father -- fully recovered, but her illness did affect me, of course; Sister (NSLOS, not LOS), schizoaffective disorder exacerbated by numerous physical ailments -- hospitalized many times for serious mental and physical problems; other sister (LOS), depression; good friend in high school (then, we're no longer in contact) who contacted an entire fantasy romance and pregnancy (fictional) resulting in hospitalization and departure form exclusive (but a bit off-world-y) boarding school; LOS's husband, alcoholism; Cousin Elsebet (Daughter of Aunt Elsebet), serious post-partum depression with each child; suicide of truly good friend in high school following death of teacher who seduced her and married her when she was 18; bipolar disorder of first actual boyfriend**; depression of at least three very good friends -- all requiring hospitalization and/or medication at times; anxiety disorder of other very good friend; and that's without even going through my address book or yearbook. Oh, and of course, the psychosis N.O.S. of PdeFF. And my own depression and ADHD (not ever requiring hospitalization, but definitely requiring medication*** and therapy at times -- I don't wait around, when things get bad, I'm back in therapy and back on the meds) and insomnia. Sanity. Not to be underestimated as a virtue. Am I just so overexposed to mental health problems that I don't recognize anything else, or is that just the mental state of the American middle-class and above (due to excess of things not to worry about?
I'm not sure what my point is or if I have one. I do know I need to figure out how to spot the walking weird and avoid them. Not of current family and friends, but of people making demands of me that I should reject or protect myself (or more importantly, my children) from.
All help and advice appreciated. I'll try and sleep again now. Goodnight.
*Actually, he calls it the Recommended Deviant Index or RDI, but I think it should be called the Recommended Deviancy Exposure Index or RDEI. Both sound like expensive and ineffective weapons promoted by Reagan, and proabably were.
**Not first sexual partner. That happened before first actual boyfriend and was completely and utterly forgettable, which is probably why I've forgotten it and him.
***Thank you Zoloft, Adderal, and Ambien, although I'm trying not to take Ambien more than once a week. However, my farewell to soporifics was clearly premature.
But I actually did what I describe, and it makes a good story and one that is actually true without hyperbole (I've actually toned it down a little, believe it or not).
But it makes me wonder: why was my first reaction to accommodate NarcissoChick's unreasonable demand? Why didn't I recognize it as unreasonable to begin with? My daughter actual suffered, oh, 45 seconds of disappointment due to my lack of perspicacity. Bad Mama. I don't want that to happen again.
She can and will, believe me, suffer disappointment due to reasonable requests from others, but when a nutcase asks me to deprive her of a a real pleasure (Harry Potter!), she should be secure in knowing that I'll say a muted version of "Fuck, no!"
Obviously, the whole accommodation thing makes me think about PdeFF and the last few years of my marriage. I need to think about this. I'm not afraid of sticking up for myself, but I also believe in being considerate of others (well, sometimes) and mannerly and kind (OK, I'm delusional, really). Or I'd like to think those are my values. Yet when I fold on things I should stand firm on (PdeFF and most choices in our last years), then there is only more ill will created when I come to my senses.
Something to think about. Like Tara on that pinnacle of television serials, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I need to make sure that the backbone implant takes. New Backbone!Foilwoman, to the rescue.
And NSLOS actually has spinal surgery (two surgeries, a few days apart) in a few weeks. No more talk of vertebrae and spines. Of course, that's why even though I'm exhausted, I can't sleep.
I wonder. Bronze John, writer of my fantasies that I'm not smart or creative enough to think or write, but I'll egotistically claim a like with him anyway, half a world away and upside down though he is, has discovered and described a new mental health index, the Recommended Deviancy Index* (see here). Are my perceptions off by over-exposure to mental health problems, as described below: Mother (now FoilMormor), major depression and "nervous breakdown" requiring hospitalization when I was thirteen, cured by attending law school and subsequent divorce from father -- fully recovered, but her illness did affect me, of course; Sister (NSLOS, not LOS), schizoaffective disorder exacerbated by numerous physical ailments -- hospitalized many times for serious mental and physical problems; other sister (LOS), depression; good friend in high school (then, we're no longer in contact) who contacted an entire fantasy romance and pregnancy (fictional) resulting in hospitalization and departure form exclusive (but a bit off-world-y) boarding school; LOS's husband, alcoholism; Cousin Elsebet (Daughter of Aunt Elsebet), serious post-partum depression with each child; suicide of truly good friend in high school following death of teacher who seduced her and married her when she was 18; bipolar disorder of first actual boyfriend**; depression of at least three very good friends -- all requiring hospitalization and/or medication at times; anxiety disorder of other very good friend; and that's without even going through my address book or yearbook. Oh, and of course, the psychosis N.O.S. of PdeFF. And my own depression and ADHD (not ever requiring hospitalization, but definitely requiring medication*** and therapy at times -- I don't wait around, when things get bad, I'm back in therapy and back on the meds) and insomnia. Sanity. Not to be underestimated as a virtue. Am I just so overexposed to mental health problems that I don't recognize anything else, or is that just the mental state of the American middle-class and above (due to excess of things not to worry about?
I'm not sure what my point is or if I have one. I do know I need to figure out how to spot the walking weird and avoid them. Not of current family and friends, but of people making demands of me that I should reject or protect myself (or more importantly, my children) from.
All help and advice appreciated. I'll try and sleep again now. Goodnight.
*Actually, he calls it the Recommended Deviant Index or RDI, but I think it should be called the Recommended Deviancy Exposure Index or RDEI. Both sound like expensive and ineffective weapons promoted by Reagan, and proabably were.
**Not first sexual partner. That happened before first actual boyfriend and was completely and utterly forgettable, which is probably why I've forgotten it and him.
***Thank you Zoloft, Adderal, and Ambien, although I'm trying not to take Ambien more than once a week. However, my farewell to soporifics was clearly premature.
July 25, 2006
I Did a Bad, Bad Thing
One of the things that most of us who have been raised, however lightly, to be "ladies" have a hard time doing is defending ourselves. It's easier to defend our children than to defend ourselves, but even in that circumstance, we hesitate. I've gotten over that hesitation, but I still feel guilty about fighting back.
Now somebody provide a disinterested opinion on what happened to me today.
Today was TigerGrrl's semi-annual dental checkup. So we took the Metro to the dentist (no cavities, teeth fine except for one sort-of-problem tooth that will be monitored), and then went to work (if you need anything 3-hole punched, my girl is the one to do it). On the train home, something really shocking happened.
I read to TigerGrrl on the Metro. She's a fidgeter, like her mother, and while listening to me read aloud may be a tad irritating, trust me, it's not as irritating as TigerGrrl in full fidget/fuss/fume mode. Hey, I drove her to Maine and back from DC. This, I know. So I try to modulate my voice, but my primary concern is entertaining my daughter, not making sure that no-one can hear me. Indeed, while music without headphones is prohibited on the Metro, I have overheard many cellphone and in person conversations on the Metro that are way more disturbing than Chapter Twelve ("Silver and Opals") of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Conversation is not prohibited on the Metro.
So my seven-year old daughter likes me to read to her on the train. We settle in and start reading the aforementioned book and read for a while. I'm trying to modulate my voice, but know people around can hear me. However, they can see I am travelling with a child, and I figure if they have any brains at all (always a questionable proposition), they'll want my daughter to be happy and tolerant my voice (which isn't nasal and doesn't have a dorky accent, even if it isn't the most mellifluous voice of all time).
About 8 stops from our stop a woman in front of us turns around and asks, arguably politely, if I could stop reading aloud so that she could read her book (I didn't catch the title; it looked like a self-help book, but I really can't say for sure). At first, I didn't really process what she was saying. Then I said: "You want me to stop reading to my child?" She said: "I can't concentrate." Trust me, she wasn't reading Musil's The Man Without Qualities or anything like that. I shut the book in shock, and then saw TigerGrrl's face (she started to cry, silently, big tears rolling down her face).
At that point, I thought: I've snogged on the Metro and never had anyone complain about distraction. I've had guys try to pick me up. I've gotten fashion and hair compliments (long ago) and given some myself ("Where'd you get your hair done/get that dress/etc.?") I've had much louder than me reading to my child political discussions without complaint. I've had many seatmates play music I can't stand without adequate headphones. I've listened to many an insane rant from many a psychotropically-medicated-and-unwashed-smelly person without hearing anyone say "Stop that."
I have read to TigerGrrl on the Metro before and always before had no negative reaction (although I always have tried to modulate my voice). So once TigerGrrl started crying, I explained to her that me reading to her was bothering the woman in front of us. She looked shocked. A man across the aisle was engaged in a quite loud real estate deal conversation on his cell phone. TigerGrrl looked at him and then looked at NarcissoChick in front of us and raised her eyebrows. "What's wrong with her?" she said. I almost burst out laughing. Clearly, me explaining to TigerGrrl why NarcissoChick needed us to stop reading was going to be more distracting for NarcissoChick in the long run.
As we talked (in normal conversational tones), NarcissoChick turned and looked at me with the unspoken (but very, very clear) message: "Can't you keep that kid quiet?" Now TigerGrrl does have the high, clear, and not-very-modulated voice of extreme youth. I do have to remind her to use her inside voice a fair amount. And oops, I forgot to remind her.
Then TigerGrrl, evil imp that she is said: "Why do you care what she thinks? I want more Harry Potter. Pleeeeeease."
Last straw. I picked up the book and began to read in a carefully modulated voice. NarcissoChick muttered "Selfish!" under her breath. TigerGrrl asked again, in clarion tones "What's wrong with her?" Before I could stop myself I said: "Probably narcissistic personality disorder." "What's that?" "People who think the world revolves around them for no apparent reason."
Not my finest moment. But shit, do you believe that woman? Asking me to stop reading to my daughter in public? Am I just a delusional selfish bitch or was NarcissoChick as off as I thought she was?
Anyway, TigerGrrl knows that I won't put some mean stranger's needs ahead of hers for no apparent reason, and that's a good enough message for her to take from this, even if I am wacko.
Now somebody provide a disinterested opinion on what happened to me today.
Today was TigerGrrl's semi-annual dental checkup. So we took the Metro to the dentist (no cavities, teeth fine except for one sort-of-problem tooth that will be monitored), and then went to work (if you need anything 3-hole punched, my girl is the one to do it). On the train home, something really shocking happened.
I read to TigerGrrl on the Metro. She's a fidgeter, like her mother, and while listening to me read aloud may be a tad irritating, trust me, it's not as irritating as TigerGrrl in full fidget/fuss/fume mode. Hey, I drove her to Maine and back from DC. This, I know. So I try to modulate my voice, but my primary concern is entertaining my daughter, not making sure that no-one can hear me. Indeed, while music without headphones is prohibited on the Metro, I have overheard many cellphone and in person conversations on the Metro that are way more disturbing than Chapter Twelve ("Silver and Opals") of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Conversation is not prohibited on the Metro.
So my seven-year old daughter likes me to read to her on the train. We settle in and start reading the aforementioned book and read for a while. I'm trying to modulate my voice, but know people around can hear me. However, they can see I am travelling with a child, and I figure if they have any brains at all (always a questionable proposition), they'll want my daughter to be happy and tolerant my voice (which isn't nasal and doesn't have a dorky accent, even if it isn't the most mellifluous voice of all time).
About 8 stops from our stop a woman in front of us turns around and asks, arguably politely, if I could stop reading aloud so that she could read her book (I didn't catch the title; it looked like a self-help book, but I really can't say for sure). At first, I didn't really process what she was saying. Then I said: "You want me to stop reading to my child?" She said: "I can't concentrate." Trust me, she wasn't reading Musil's The Man Without Qualities or anything like that. I shut the book in shock, and then saw TigerGrrl's face (she started to cry, silently, big tears rolling down her face).
At that point, I thought: I've snogged on the Metro and never had anyone complain about distraction. I've had guys try to pick me up. I've gotten fashion and hair compliments (long ago) and given some myself ("Where'd you get your hair done/get that dress/etc.?") I've had much louder than me reading to my child political discussions without complaint. I've had many seatmates play music I can't stand without adequate headphones. I've listened to many an insane rant from many a psychotropically-medicated-and-unwashed-smelly person without hearing anyone say "Stop that."
I have read to TigerGrrl on the Metro before and always before had no negative reaction (although I always have tried to modulate my voice). So once TigerGrrl started crying, I explained to her that me reading to her was bothering the woman in front of us. She looked shocked. A man across the aisle was engaged in a quite loud real estate deal conversation on his cell phone. TigerGrrl looked at him and then looked at NarcissoChick in front of us and raised her eyebrows. "What's wrong with her?" she said. I almost burst out laughing. Clearly, me explaining to TigerGrrl why NarcissoChick needed us to stop reading was going to be more distracting for NarcissoChick in the long run.
As we talked (in normal conversational tones), NarcissoChick turned and looked at me with the unspoken (but very, very clear) message: "Can't you keep that kid quiet?" Now TigerGrrl does have the high, clear, and not-very-modulated voice of extreme youth. I do have to remind her to use her inside voice a fair amount. And oops, I forgot to remind her.
Then TigerGrrl, evil imp that she is said: "Why do you care what she thinks? I want more Harry Potter. Pleeeeeease."
Last straw. I picked up the book and began to read in a carefully modulated voice. NarcissoChick muttered "Selfish!" under her breath. TigerGrrl asked again, in clarion tones "What's wrong with her?" Before I could stop myself I said: "Probably narcissistic personality disorder." "What's that?" "People who think the world revolves around them for no apparent reason."
Not my finest moment. But shit, do you believe that woman? Asking me to stop reading to my daughter in public? Am I just a delusional selfish bitch or was NarcissoChick as off as I thought she was?
Anyway, TigerGrrl knows that I won't put some mean stranger's needs ahead of hers for no apparent reason, and that's a good enough message for her to take from this, even if I am wacko.
July 21, 2006
Maternal Fatigue Syndrome
After a busy week at work, I got the girls back tonight. I took both swimming, and then TigerGrrl and I baked a Lady Baltimore cake (Innana's coming for dinner tomorrow). GaahGirl didn't want to go to sleep, and I'm desperately in need of some. The cake looks good -- I hope it tastes as good.
Hypochondria, Part Deux
I am not posting from work. I'm home sick. I'm going into work shortly. I awoke with a terrible headache, and the ibuprophen has finally kicked in. The insomnia isn't completely gone, of course, and my teeth are killing me. I just had four fillings redone on Wednesday, and something's wrong with my bite. I have a rash on my feet, and I'm fidgety.
I know this is just all release of tension. And TigerGrrl was with her father on her actual birthday. Grrrr. She and I are making a cake tonight (she wants to) and then we're having a birthday party for all her little friends (they were all gone on her birthday, so we picked a day a few weeks off).
Anyway, headache or no, teeth or no, I have good health, and I'm just in a cranky mood right now. No big surprise or anything. I'm looking forward to some swimming with my girls and the like. I've done the grocery shopping (last night) am stocked up on apple juice, yoghourt, saltine crackers, noodles, cheese, brocolli, and bananas (all the essentials, apparently) and got good butter and cake flour for my big girls birthday cake. Now I need to get to work.
I know this is just all release of tension. And TigerGrrl was with her father on her actual birthday. Grrrr. She and I are making a cake tonight (she wants to) and then we're having a birthday party for all her little friends (they were all gone on her birthday, so we picked a day a few weeks off).
Anyway, headache or no, teeth or no, I have good health, and I'm just in a cranky mood right now. No big surprise or anything. I'm looking forward to some swimming with my girls and the like. I've done the grocery shopping (last night) am stocked up on apple juice, yoghourt, saltine crackers, noodles, cheese, brocolli, and bananas (all the essentials, apparently) and got good butter and cake flour for my big girls birthday cake. Now I need to get to work.
July 20, 2006
Hypochondria
In keeping with my theory that people who don't have enough actual worries create problems to keep themselves busy, I have started (now that the truly serious worry is done -- let's be honest, compared to the custody issue, nothing else matters at all) I'm developing all kinds of weirdo symptoms. Including dentistry ailments. And the whites of my eyes seem extraordinarily white. What's that about?
July 16, 2006
Books I'm Reading Now (And Books I Plan to Read Soon)
I'm just pleased to be really reading again. For awhile, I couldn't manage anything more complex than a romance or a light magazine. I couldn't read the newspaper, it would get me too distressed (well, that hasn't changed). I couldn't read mysteries, because I would get way to interested and enthusiastic about the murders techniques, particularly for not-soon-enough-to-be-former-spouses. Military history would be too complex, as would be social, political, or economic theory or polemics or whatever. And serious novels? Well, I just couldn't.
Now, I am reading again. Real reading, not just filler, try to help me get to sleep reading.
At the pool, I read Insomnia, by Stephen King. I know Maine, where he lives, and he's a good read. Also, the level of complexity of his writing is manageable for me write now. I'll trade up.
A Widow for One Year, by John Irving. Nothing too complicated either.
Today at McKay's, however, I got Seven Types of Ambiguity by Elliot Perlman, Stones for Ibarra by Harriet Doerr (a reread, which should be good), Another World by Pat Barker, Easter Island by Jennifer Vanderbes, and D-Day by Stephen Ambrose. I also have, on my to read pile The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen Carter, Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder (this will be my first read of a book of his since The Soul of a New Machine), A Hundred & One Days: A Baghdad Journal by Asne Seierstadt (Scandinavian and a gift from Francesca, so this will be good), and Thinks by David Lodge.
Oh, and the best thing is, I had culled my books, and got a store credit with my trade-ins, and I still have $6 on it. I do love McKays. Now, next time I'm there, I'd like it if they had some David Sedaris and Don Delillo (recommended by Champurrado). Oh, and I'm desperately looking for Sweetness in the Belly. But I got some good loot. I particularly love the shopping where I spend no money and get books. And Innana and I had a nice Italian meal. A nice meal. Yum.
Now, I am reading again. Real reading, not just filler, try to help me get to sleep reading.
At the pool, I read Insomnia, by Stephen King. I know Maine, where he lives, and he's a good read. Also, the level of complexity of his writing is manageable for me write now. I'll trade up.
A Widow for One Year, by John Irving. Nothing too complicated either.
Today at McKay's, however, I got Seven Types of Ambiguity by Elliot Perlman, Stones for Ibarra by Harriet Doerr (a reread, which should be good), Another World by Pat Barker, Easter Island by Jennifer Vanderbes, and D-Day by Stephen Ambrose. I also have, on my to read pile The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen Carter, Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder (this will be my first read of a book of his since The Soul of a New Machine), A Hundred & One Days: A Baghdad Journal by Asne Seierstadt (Scandinavian and a gift from Francesca, so this will be good), and Thinks by David Lodge.
Oh, and the best thing is, I had culled my books, and got a store credit with my trade-ins, and I still have $6 on it. I do love McKays. Now, next time I'm there, I'd like it if they had some David Sedaris and Don Delillo (recommended by Champurrado). Oh, and I'm desperately looking for Sweetness in the Belly. But I got some good loot. I particularly love the shopping where I spend no money and get books. And Innana and I had a nice Italian meal. A nice meal. Yum.
July 15, 2006
Some Vacation Vignettes and Some Retail Therapy
I only wrote a few things that happened during My Summer Vacation. Most was pleasant in that lovely you're-with-the-people-who-know-and-love-you-best way, but nothing exceptional. However, there are a couple other things that stand out in my mind. One involving Aunt Elsebet and her husband, Uncle Roland, and one involving my father's, the FoilDad or Big Grampa's, mother -- Nuclear Grammy.
We drove from DC to Maine heading north. That was too long. So, I had planned to stop in New Hampshire and visit Nuclear Grammy, age 94, and show her her most recent great-grandchild, the GaahGirl, and reacquaint her with the vitality of the TigerGrrl. Grammy loves kids and babies (she's not a warm and fuzzy -- she encourages the kids to misbehave and then teases the parents for not having their children under their control) and loves to show off her descendants to the other residents at the retirement home. ("My kids, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren visit me. And look how attractive and full of vitality they are. Did I tell you that I have 3 children, 10 grandchildren, and 17 great-grandchildren, and they all visit me every year or more often? Yours don't? Such a pity. But it's not like they are amazing, wonderful, intelligent, and gorgeous, as you can see mine are." Well, she doesn't actually say that, but you can pick up the general vibe. She introduced GaahGirl and TigerGrrl to everyone.) Of course, this involved eating at the retirement home dining room which actually is lovely, but it serves the blandest food known to humankind. If I ever lose the ability to eat spices, it's time to put me down, please.
Anyway, we let old codgers compliment my kids. TigerGrrl made the tactless but, at that time true, pronouncement that "Old people are nice!" to general approbation. Nuclear Grammy chortled (much like GaahGirl does, I now see the source of this trait). After lunch, I was pretty sure Grammy, tough old bird that she is, would want a nap. But no. She mentioned to TigerGrrl that the retirement home had a pool. Well, swimming is TigerGrrl's favorite favorite favorite thing to do. So my ninety-four year old grandmother took her great-granddaughters (and granddaughter, but trust me, I was superfluous) for a swim for about half an hour. Then she wished us a pleasant journey and headed in to take a nap. Good genes, no?
On the distaff side, I also have good genes. Aunt Elsebet heard about my drive north (The second mate got my triptichs from AAA so I could avoid trouble spots on my return), and told me to stay with her on the way back. She gave the babysitter (who went with us to Maine) a room of her own, and had soap in the bird bath so the kids good make a mess and get their sillies out. Lots of bubbles, needless to say.
As we headed on our way, after a lovely breakfast of blueberry pancakes (with blueberries picked by TigerGrrl and Elsebet the night before), my aunt gave us two hampers: one of milk, juice, vegetable slices, fruit, cookies, crackers, and the like, and the other with ice packs and two large frozen casseroles for dinner when we arrived home and later in the week. I haven't had to cook a meal yet (those casseroles were large and stayed completely frozen). GaahGirl took a big, big shine to Uncle Roland, who tolerated the manhandling (literally) well. Elsebet thought it was hilarious, as whenever Roland entered the room, GaahGirl stopped whatever she was doing, ran over to Roland, grabbed his leg, and cooed in a distinctly seductive tone. Elsebet shamelessly distracted GaahGirl from any misbehavior by saying: "I think your boyfriend is coming" at which point GaahGirl would stop trying to disassemble the deck, help barbecue by trying to tip over the grill, etc. and look eagerly around for the wonder that is Uncle Roland (actually a sixty-five year old pudgy retired accountant).
Anyway, nice family, no?
And today, I took the $50 left over from the $100 my mom, the illustrious FoilMormor tucked into my wallet (I assume it was FoilMormor: It could have been my stepfather, the Second Mate) immediately prior to heading south, and when shopping. Here's what I got a pair of Ralph Lauren open-toed shoes in blue and beige (sounds ugly, very pretty) ($12), some white canvas casual summer shoes ($3.98!), a lacy Bali bra (I've lost more weight, I'm a C-cup again) ($5), sunglasses ($4) an iron ($10) and an ironing board ($7) (really needed as I handwash rather than dry clean as much as possible), and a boatload of diapers ($10) for the GaahGirl (I know it doesn't equal $50: add sales tax and then accept that things don't always add up exactly. Thanks.). (It's time to toilet train, I think. She's 20 months old.) I think that was a pretty good haul. Marshall's and Target, natch.
Now, I'm vegging out, drinking wine (Castillo de Jumillo Montrasell, yum), and doing sudoku puzzles.
We drove from DC to Maine heading north. That was too long. So, I had planned to stop in New Hampshire and visit Nuclear Grammy, age 94, and show her her most recent great-grandchild, the GaahGirl, and reacquaint her with the vitality of the TigerGrrl. Grammy loves kids and babies (she's not a warm and fuzzy -- she encourages the kids to misbehave and then teases the parents for not having their children under their control) and loves to show off her descendants to the other residents at the retirement home. ("My kids, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren visit me. And look how attractive and full of vitality they are. Did I tell you that I have 3 children, 10 grandchildren, and 17 great-grandchildren, and they all visit me every year or more often? Yours don't? Such a pity. But it's not like they are amazing, wonderful, intelligent, and gorgeous, as you can see mine are." Well, she doesn't actually say that, but you can pick up the general vibe. She introduced GaahGirl and TigerGrrl to everyone.) Of course, this involved eating at the retirement home dining room which actually is lovely, but it serves the blandest food known to humankind. If I ever lose the ability to eat spices, it's time to put me down, please.
Anyway, we let old codgers compliment my kids. TigerGrrl made the tactless but, at that time true, pronouncement that "Old people are nice!" to general approbation. Nuclear Grammy chortled (much like GaahGirl does, I now see the source of this trait). After lunch, I was pretty sure Grammy, tough old bird that she is, would want a nap. But no. She mentioned to TigerGrrl that the retirement home had a pool. Well, swimming is TigerGrrl's favorite favorite favorite thing to do. So my ninety-four year old grandmother took her great-granddaughters (and granddaughter, but trust me, I was superfluous) for a swim for about half an hour. Then she wished us a pleasant journey and headed in to take a nap. Good genes, no?
On the distaff side, I also have good genes. Aunt Elsebet heard about my drive north (The second mate got my triptichs from AAA so I could avoid trouble spots on my return), and told me to stay with her on the way back. She gave the babysitter (who went with us to Maine) a room of her own, and had soap in the bird bath so the kids good make a mess and get their sillies out. Lots of bubbles, needless to say.
As we headed on our way, after a lovely breakfast of blueberry pancakes (with blueberries picked by TigerGrrl and Elsebet the night before), my aunt gave us two hampers: one of milk, juice, vegetable slices, fruit, cookies, crackers, and the like, and the other with ice packs and two large frozen casseroles for dinner when we arrived home and later in the week. I haven't had to cook a meal yet (those casseroles were large and stayed completely frozen). GaahGirl took a big, big shine to Uncle Roland, who tolerated the manhandling (literally) well. Elsebet thought it was hilarious, as whenever Roland entered the room, GaahGirl stopped whatever she was doing, ran over to Roland, grabbed his leg, and cooed in a distinctly seductive tone. Elsebet shamelessly distracted GaahGirl from any misbehavior by saying: "I think your boyfriend is coming" at which point GaahGirl would stop trying to disassemble the deck, help barbecue by trying to tip over the grill, etc. and look eagerly around for the wonder that is Uncle Roland (actually a sixty-five year old pudgy retired accountant).
Anyway, nice family, no?
And today, I took the $50 left over from the $100 my mom, the illustrious FoilMormor tucked into my wallet (I assume it was FoilMormor: It could have been my stepfather, the Second Mate) immediately prior to heading south, and when shopping. Here's what I got a pair of Ralph Lauren open-toed shoes in blue and beige (sounds ugly, very pretty) ($12), some white canvas casual summer shoes ($3.98!), a lacy Bali bra (I've lost more weight, I'm a C-cup again) ($5), sunglasses ($4) an iron ($10) and an ironing board ($7) (really needed as I handwash rather than dry clean as much as possible), and a boatload of diapers ($10) for the GaahGirl (I know it doesn't equal $50: add sales tax and then accept that things don't always add up exactly. Thanks.). (It's time to toilet train, I think. She's 20 months old.) I think that was a pretty good haul. Marshall's and Target, natch.
Now, I'm vegging out, drinking wine (Castillo de Jumillo Montrasell, yum), and doing sudoku puzzles.
Sleep Is A Good Thing
The last two nights, I have, for the first time in over a year, slept more than 6 hours at a stretch without the aid of soporific medication. I wonder why?
Tomorrow, Innana and I are doing our no cost book-buying extravaganza. We haven't done that in a few months, and it's time. Today, I' catching up and resting. Running errands. Going to the library, the hardware store, cleaning, doing laundry, mending things. Stuff like that. Maybe this evening I'll get back to knitting again.
It's good to feel like myself again.
Oh, and late this afternoon, when I get in from the errands, I'm going to put on my none-too-flattering-but-perfectly serviceable swimsuit and take a dip in the pool. Aah.
Tomorrow, Innana and I are doing our no cost book-buying extravaganza. We haven't done that in a few months, and it's time. Today, I' catching up and resting. Running errands. Going to the library, the hardware store, cleaning, doing laundry, mending things. Stuff like that. Maybe this evening I'll get back to knitting again.
It's good to feel like myself again.
Oh, and late this afternoon, when I get in from the errands, I'm going to put on my none-too-flattering-but-perfectly serviceable swimsuit and take a dip in the pool. Aah.
July 13, 2006
Victory Is Mine, For Once (or, She Stoops to Conquer)
And the victory is only the most important victory for me, ever. I don't know how much detail I've given so far (and I'm still obscuring certain key facts), but PdeFF failed to sign a joint custody agreement we had reached and sued for sole custody. Of course, this was something I simply couldn't concede, so real litigation ensued.
Where we live, when custody is in dispute, the court appoints a social worker who makes a recommendation to the court. After meeting with me, with PdeFF, visiting our respective homes, and meeting individually with TigerGrrl, the social worker recommended the joint custody PdeFF and I had originally (many thousands of dollars ago) agreed to, but he failed to sign off on. If anything, the judge and the social worker were rather looking at me as to why I wasn't suing for sole custody with PdeFF's psychosis NOS diagnosis.
I won. Now we can fight over the little remaining money, but I don't really care much about that. I won the fight I cared about.
Oh, and why didn't I sue for sole custody? All I need to protect the girls is joint custody with a "no foreign travel without parental consent" order, which I got. PdeFF's doctor went on the record and said: (1) He's psychotic, and (2) He's not a danger to the children. I had always felt that, but it's nice to have a litigation-wary American psychiatrist put himself on the record like that. I want my girls to have a relationship with their father, as long as I can monitor it. And I got that.
Where we live, when custody is in dispute, the court appoints a social worker who makes a recommendation to the court. After meeting with me, with PdeFF, visiting our respective homes, and meeting individually with TigerGrrl, the social worker recommended the joint custody PdeFF and I had originally (many thousands of dollars ago) agreed to, but he failed to sign off on. If anything, the judge and the social worker were rather looking at me as to why I wasn't suing for sole custody with PdeFF's psychosis NOS diagnosis.
I won. Now we can fight over the little remaining money, but I don't really care much about that. I won the fight I cared about.
Oh, and why didn't I sue for sole custody? All I need to protect the girls is joint custody with a "no foreign travel without parental consent" order, which I got. PdeFF's doctor went on the record and said: (1) He's psychotic, and (2) He's not a danger to the children. I had always felt that, but it's nice to have a litigation-wary American psychiatrist put himself on the record like that. I want my girls to have a relationship with their father, as long as I can monitor it. And I got that.
July 12, 2006
Snippets from Away
Vacation was just wonderful. The FoilMormor's 70th birthday was great, and pretty much all family and close friends came. It was wonderful, and my girls got lots of positive and doting attention, and we can always use more of that. The most touching event for me, was talking with a neighbor by the pool before heading home, and mentioning that I was leaving the next day, and she said:
One day, he took the TigerGrrl to play mini-gold (she loves to "golf", having started with her own set of golf clubs from Ex-Marine Fred), and the were gone for more than six hours. After about three, I asked FoilMormor if I should start worrying. When they got home, it turned out the Second Mate had taken his step-granddaughter (introduced proudly as his granddaughter to everyone) to mini-golf, then to a go cart track to ride in the cart with Grandpapa, and then to a gym to do some rockcliming. In between this, he got her pizza.
More about other family members later. But the Second Mate aka Grandpapa really won my heart.
Oh, the Second Mate said he was taking his daughter's car to be washed and vacuumed before she headed home. How far is your drive?Now the Second Mate married FoilMormor (my Mom) when I was 28 years old. He never knew me as a kid, and he has three perfectly serviceable children of his own. But her describes me to others (even after the royal fuck up that I've made of my life this last year and the money I've cost him in helping pay for lawyers fees) as his daughter. I almost cried.
One day, he took the TigerGrrl to play mini-gold (she loves to "golf", having started with her own set of golf clubs from Ex-Marine Fred), and the were gone for more than six hours. After about three, I asked FoilMormor if I should start worrying. When they got home, it turned out the Second Mate had taken his step-granddaughter (introduced proudly as his granddaughter to everyone) to mini-golf, then to a go cart track to ride in the cart with Grandpapa, and then to a gym to do some rockcliming. In between this, he got her pizza.
More about other family members later. But the Second Mate aka Grandpapa really won my heart.
July 10, 2006
I'll Take Another Three Weeks, Thank You
I need to be reborn as a European with 6 weeks or more of vacation each year. Really.
I'm exhausted, having driven from central Massachusetts to DC today. I had a wonderful time up in Maine, and so did the TigerGrrl and GaahGirl (soon to be renamed: she says "No!" a lot more than she says "Gaah!" now). Today I had the pleasure of briefly meeting Prom, her significant other, and her wonderdog, a chocolate lab whose identity is being protected by not naming her cute self. Okay, so I slobbered over the dog more than my girls did. Yup. It was a cute and cuddly dog.
Lots of stories to tell, but sleep for now. I'm almost too tired to sleep, but I think I'll overcome that. Goodnight.
I'm exhausted, having driven from central Massachusetts to DC today. I had a wonderful time up in Maine, and so did the TigerGrrl and GaahGirl (soon to be renamed: she says "No!" a lot more than she says "Gaah!" now). Today I had the pleasure of briefly meeting Prom, her significant other, and her wonderdog, a chocolate lab whose identity is being protected by not naming her cute self. Okay, so I slobbered over the dog more than my girls did. Yup. It was a cute and cuddly dog.
Lots of stories to tell, but sleep for now. I'm almost too tired to sleep, but I think I'll overcome that. Goodnight.
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