Scary question of the day...

What if my parachute is translucent?

t*e*c*a*s*t*d*r*e

Cloud following me

Can't seem to shake the feeling

I need some sunshine

because time sneaks up on you.

I'm getting it together starting... now! Well, not now because it's 2:30 in the morning and I'm not in bed and that does not classify as "getting it together". But starting in the morning. The real morning. The morning in which Izzy leans over and whispers "Mom, it's time to wake up..." and kisses me on the forehead.

List of things to do that count as getting it together? Sure!:

1.) Start meditating. I did this wayyy back in the day, right before I lit that damn "Changes" candle and it turned my world upside down. And I remember enjoying it. Right before my world turned upside down, that is.

2.) Stay on the healthy eating train. There's no point in spending all this damn money at Whole Foods and then sneaking in chocolate every night. Seriously, every night. I need to save the chocolate for Sundays.

3.) Exercise. For the love of God I need to start doing something. I had that week of pilates before all hell broke loose. I need to get back on it, at least until it cools off enough to run. And then Krav Maga. And then Yoga. Because I've decided I want to be the kind of woman that "does yoga".

Because I am now 26 days away from my 35th birthday and just typing 35 gives me anxiety. How did that happen? Mid-30's. I don't feel mid-30's. Well actually, I do. Which is why I need to start on this list. My body is no longer in line with my mind and that sucks pretty hardcore. Thirty-five. Nope, the anxiety doesn't go away if I spell out the number. Holy shit, how the hell did 35 sneak up on me. I really want to be the cool chick that's like "Yeah, I'm 35 - so what? Look at me. I'm awesome." But I'm not feeling awesome. In fact, I'm feeling 40.

Ugh. Thirty-fricken-five. I'm going to sleep now.

What its all about.

It's a good thing I did that Reset because the crazy has continued. Although thankfully I have not had to deal with crazy people. Just a terribly sad funeral, a daughter who has suddenly insisted on waking up at 5am, a twin mattress worthy of a prison setting and a mom who has decided to leave again. As well as a number of smaller bumps along the way.

Please believe me when I say I'm not complaining, really I'm not, but I swear something happened in the act of giving birth that made my life suddenly stop being about me. I am beyond blessed to have moments/days/weekends that are about me (whereas many mothers get no such thing) - but for the most part I feel as if I have put my own wants and desires on hold for the good of the many (or few, as I'll later reveal). In fact, as I sit here typing, I'm not even sure what my wants and desires are (besides cookies and LOTS of sleep). Even my personal desires seem to revolve around a greater family plan. That was definitely not the case 5 years ago. My greatest desire for many years (starting in the 8th grade, in fact) was a trip to Europe. And I came so close, right before discovering I was pregnant. But even that dream seems to sit in a clouded haze. So completely unattainable a part of me is just wishing for it in the next life. And on the whole I am completely okay with that. But there are moments, sometimes brief, sometimes lasting days, that I am overwhelmed with the burden of reality. That reality being that my life is no longer about me. And while I do my very best to keep it all in perspective, sometimes my resentment spills over the healthy line.

I had an epiphany a few weeks ago. It was that we are all guided by one major factor. That factor differs for everyone. Some are motivated by money. Others to sever themselves from their past. Still others are motivated by a desire for success, education, love, security or worldly experiences. But behind each and every one of us there is one desire that dictates a large majority of our decisions and actions. My whole life's motivation can be traced back to a moment when I was 4 years old, when my mom informed me that she was leaving my father. The idea resurfaced many, many times until I voiced it distinctly when I was around 12. As my parents yelled, slammed and broke their way through our living room, I became a young Scarlett O'Hara that evening when I swore: "As God is my witness I will one day have a happy home. I will be a strong woman who sticks up for myself, with a husband who doesn't break, slam, yell or resent me. I will raise a child without fear and without guilt. And I will let no person come between that, if it's the last thing I ever do."

And as my resentment sometimes grows, I remind myself of my motivator. Of why I do the things I do and why I expend effort until I am out of energy. Until I am cursed, disliked and disrespected. It is all in protection of my happy home. Happy homes don't come easy - it's why they are so few. It takes energy, communication, sacrifice and countless battles. It may seem contradictory, but you must fight like hell for a happy home. And when all is said and done, I will continue to fight. I will continue to defend and sacrifice. I will continue this life that is not motivated by my own personal desires, but by my idea of a happy home. For myself, for my daughter and husband and for my extended family. Because in my home, the good of the few outweighs the good of the many, as well as the good for myself. And at the end of the day I would have it no other way.

Reset # 284

After a week that was comparable to the entire year of 2009, I think things have finally managed to settle down once again. Of course, not before we Dawson's had to clean house again, both literally and figuratively. And not before I had to go through some more self-examination after a series of wild accusations. Again.

There is something about me that attracts crazy. Of that much I have become certain. I am a firm believer that if you continue to experience the same type of drama it must be you who is creating that drama in some way. I'm willing to accept my role in these things, if only I could completely discern what it is I'm doing. Others have thrown out suggestions: "Perhaps it is your bluntness." Or, "Perhaps your need to communicate and clarify make others uncomfortable." Either way, the message is the same - I need to shut up. And truly people, I'm working on it. In fact, I've accomplished a lot of shutting up this year (seriously, you have no idea). But if you want me to continue shutting up, you need to do two simple things: Don't bring your shit to me AND don't ask. Plain and simple.

Whew, okay... that said... I have had to do another 2010 'Reset' this year. It took a little longer to accomplish than expected. For a week the house was trashed and I wanted nothing more than sleep. It all climaxed with an anxiety attack that was, quite simply, beyond insane (note to self: stay away from Excedrine Migraine at 3am - it contains CAFFEINE!) But thankfully that attack served to push me into the much needed 'Reset'. Now, three days later, the house is clean (or getting that way, at least), the crazy is gone (for now, at least) and my spirits are high. I'm back to "okay" - and these days that's all a stay-at-home-mom-dealing-with-the-outside-crazies can ask for.

hi-ho-hi-fricken-ho

I applied for 15 jobs tonight. I hate applying for jobs. I hate being broke more. In a fit of anger and frustration (I always get angry and frustrated when applying for jobs), I applied for a job at Walgreens, thinking I could work the night shift and enter the yearly Martyrdom competition. I must say, applying for a job at Walgreens is more complex and complicated than applying for a job at St. Davids as a unit coordinator. Odd. One of the many stupid and ridiculous questions Walgreens asks was this: "It is sometimes okay to give free items to return customers - True or False?" Why wouldn't it be okay to give "free items" to anyone? They are free, right? But of course we all know that isn't what they were getting at. Stupid.

So here's hoping I land that perfect job. Here's hoping it pays $50k a year. Here's hoping they offer 6 weeks vacation and stock options. Here's hoping I don't keel over and die after a full days work and 30 loads of laundry. Here's hoping.

playing mind tricks with death

I hate funerals. I really do. I know, I know - everyone hates funerals (well, not everyone as I've never known my mom to say "no" to one). But we can generally agree that most people aren't fans. But after giving the matter much thought, I've decided this: I would rather live in a state of denial regarding death. I don't want to say "goodbye". In all other aspects of life I say "no" to denial. But as it turns out, I prefer death come with a huge chunk of denial and a dash of mind games.

I've never lost someone that I've been extremely close to at the moment of their death. I've lost grandparents that played a huge part in raising me, I've lost great uncles that were beyond wonderful - but at the time of their death I could not say that we were extremely close. For one reason or another there had been space between us. With my grandmother (who I stayed with more weekends than not as a kid), I had grown older and she had created more space the sicker she became. With my grandfather (ditto on the weekends), there was a family falling out that separated us years before his death (luckily we briefly reunited before he died). With my great uncles and great grandparents (and I have been blessed with some wonderful great uncles/grandparents), it was distance that kept us apart.

For many years I wondered if I was cold inside because I did not "sufficiently" mourn their deaths. I say "sufficiently" because next to my mother I always came off as stone cold. My mom will cry for a good solid hour at the loss of your 2nd cousin twice removed if you let her. Me - well, I was always a little more reserved with my mourning. But as I lay in bed this evening mourning my great uncle Gene's recent passing I realized it was something else. It isn't that I don't care, it's that it doesn't register with me that they are gone. Most especially if I skip out on the funeral (which I will almost always try to do). And even if I get wrangled into going (and my mother is a pro at this), I seem to have some weird coping mechanism that allows me to think they are still here.

For instance, I know my loved ones are gone. I know this without a doubt. But in my mind I still think of Uncle Carl gathering corn from the fields and Uncle Gene cracking peanuts on his front porch. As for my Grandma, she is still sitting at her kitchen table drinking a Coke and skimming through the Sears catalog. My Granddaddy is off running the roads in his 'Green Machine' (a 1970's puke green wagon) looking for a good beer joint or fishing spot. My Great Grandma and Papa John are busy in the kitchen chiding each other on something someone said at last Sunday's church service. And because we weren't entirely close (in a call each other on Sundays kind of way), I will be allowed to go on thinking that as I grow old. None of them are actually gone.

I don't know if this is healthy or not. Perhaps I listened a little too well at the very first funeral I ever attended. I remember someone saying "they are still alive in your heart and memories" and it made perfect sense to me. However, that comes as no consolation to someone like my mother as she is breaking down in sadness during these times. Because obviously this sort of mental defense tactic works on very few people besides myself.

And in all honesty, I can foresee a lot of heartache in the future due to this kind of mental trick. At some point, hopefully in the extremely distant future, I'm going to lose someone I'm truly close to. Someone that I can't trick myself into still being alive. And when that day comes I will be completely unprepared with how to handle it, as all my little mental and emotional tricks will no longer work. And when that day comes, some distant person will most surely say "they are still alive in your heart and memories" and I will want to punch them in the throat. Because I'll know that memories don't call you to see how you are feeling and hearts don't visit on the holidays and I'll be mourning a pain I've yet to experience in this lifetime.