February 2002
More entries written without benefit of blogging software.
February 27, 2002I’m taking a break from working on an editing job. I’m listening to This American Life right now and they’re talking about super heroes. Which super power would you rather have? The ability to fly? Or the ability to become invisible? Me, I choose flying. And not, as one person said on the show, because I have an exaggerated “mythic” or “heroic” view of myself. I’d choose it because I’d like to be able to get up on out of things when the going gets rough. It’s all about escapism, my friend. It’s why I read a book a day, why I love the movies, and why I run out of hot water when I daydream while washing dishes.
I *love* to daydream. It’s my number one favorite thing to do. I can’t do it as much as I like because life requires my presence. One day, when my kid(s) are big enough that they don’t need me to wipe their little tushies, I’m going to lock myself up in a room and daydream myself a novel.
Ok. Back to work.
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February 26, 2002
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February 21, 2002
Wish me luck, folks.
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February 20, 2002
(warning: written under the influence of coffee)
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February 19, 2002Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. {write me}
February 17, 2002
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February 13, 2002
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February 12, 2002
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February 11, 2002Stating the obvious:
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February 09, 2002
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February 08, 2002I decided not to take the progesterone this month. I don’t think progesterone is my issue since it didn’t prevent either of the two miscarriages I just had nor did I have luteal phase problems before. Apparently, that was a bad idea because I got my period this morning — a week early. What the hell is up with that??? My test results came back and I don’t know what they mean but they sounded good (no protein C antibodies found) but I won’t know for sure until I see the miracle baby doctor for my post-op next week. Things seem so fucked that despite my two fertility goddess necklaces, I’m not exactly swimming in optimism.
On a brighter note…
Today I took Peanut with us to Noah’s preschool so that I could walk her until it was time to pick him up. An 85-year old woman called out to me while we passed her house and asked to walk with us. We went around the block and talked away about her kids, her late husband, and her house. She was very friendly and funny, and even gave me a hug when I left her back at her house. She told me to come by and knock on her back door next time I was walking. I don’t know if I will because I’m stupid shy about those kinds of things but I was thinking of sending her a thank you note. I woke up so grouchy and having that little stroll with her turned my day around. Then I went to the thrift store that’s at Noah’s preschool and found him a two-headed dragon doll ($.75) and Mastermind Junior ($1.50).
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February 07, 2002I need to quit reading sad books. Today I started one about twin sisters with kids just a month apart. Then one of the kids dies and the other kid starts receiving messages from him. Cheerful bedtime reading.
Now to behave like a real blog:
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February 06, 2002Yesterday my friends started arriving a little before 10am and the last one left around 5pm. It was good for my tattered ego to see people enjoying themselves so much at my humble home. The only rotten thing was that I didn’t have anything to serve the kiddies at lunch. I’m out of maple syrup for the pancakes (a good standard lunch-for-all); I was out of bread for PB&J (a fine runner-up); and I didn’t have enough veggie chix nuggets for everyone. Fortunately, I had homemade muffins, pretzals, and fruit so the kids didn’t starve.
Noah and I just worked on half the thank you notes for his birthday. He drew a picture in his Kid Pix program and then he dictated card content to me. Actually he didn’t really *draw* the picture so much as stamp a bunch of stuff onto it. It’s not quite the creative masterpiece I was planning on in my own little mind, but it’s a creative masterpiece none-the-less. My friends who aren’t keen on computer games for kids will be shaking their Waldorf-inspired heads. I was trying to talk him into drawing something freehand on the screen and he said, “Mommy, they are *my* cards and I will decide about that!” He’s right so I backed off.
I had the yearly conference at his preschool today. The teacher didn’t tell me anything that surprised me but it was fun to sit and chat about Noah for 30 minutes. I talked to her a little bit about my school dilemma but I was very aware the entire time that her kids were in public school; I didn’t want to inadvertently insult her. I don’t think that everyone in the world should have the same issues with public school that I do. I mean, I would love to see the school system totally blown apart and put back together again but meanwhile, people have to make their own choices for the kids they know best. My problems with public schooling aren’t any more or less valid than someone else’s confidence in the system. Sure there are objective markers but who can even get everybody to agree on the same markers? Anyway, I like his teacher a lot and if her kids were younger, I bet she’d be “one of us” hanging with my friends and bitching about the cost of organic food. She genuinely likes Noah, too, which makes her aces in my book.
I have been trying to figure out which skills are really important and which skills are important only for school success. It’s like we don’t know what kids should be like without the school system to measure them up against.
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February 05, 2002Someone I don’t know very well did the most wonderful thing for me. She made me a necklace with a fertility goddess. I was really honored and moved by her thoughtfulness. And the goddess is beautiful. I wish I could link to her because she does belly casting, but she doesn’t have a site so I can’t.
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February 03, 2002(twiddling my thumbs) Just waiting for something wonderful to happen.While I’m waiting, perhaps I’ll go see what my brother is doing.
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February 02, 2002My friend Ann just left. She lives out of town now. We’ve been friends since 1988 or 89; ever since we worked together at Katzinger’s. She was the Deli Queen and I was Cherry Dawn. At least, I think those were our monikers. She may have been the Queen of Cheese. Hey! Guess what she got me for my birthday! Go ahead, guess! Give up yet? OK, I’ll tell you: a pair of running shoes! I know, you’re shocked seeing as how I don’t run but I want to start running. Or at least walking very quickly. Right now I do step aerobics and it’s fun but I want to have more exercise options. Also, I would love to do a fun run with Brett sometime and maybe even (dare I dream?) work my way up to a 10K. I have trouble with shinsplints but the shoe-fitting-guy felt that having decent running shoes would help. It was so generous of Ann, but then she has always been extremely generous. She’s a good friend and not just because she buys nice presents.
I’ve been thinking about friends lately. I woke up this morning at about 5am and couldn’t get back to sleep. I was thinking about friendship and conflict and personal responsibility.
When I was in my late teens, I was a terrible one for taking personal responsibility. I had an exaggerated view of my own importance and tended to minimize my own culpability. I thought I was surrounded by crazy people and didn’t connect the conflict I had with them to my own actions. I thought everybody else was wrong, didn’t understand me, couldn’t appreciate my good intentions. I used to joke that I “attracted” crazy people and didn’t know what to do about it. I saw myself as very generous, willing to listen, and extremely understanding but I wasn’t. I remember that when I was around 19, I realized that I was using the “nice” parts of me to manipulate people into liking me, even when I didn’t like them. If we did start having some conflict, I blamed it all on them. I would tally up all the ways I had been nice and all the ways that they had been mean. I was always the victim of somebody’s underhanded, indefensible behavior.
After awhile, it occurred to me that, gee, I kept having the same kind of conflicts. Now wasn’t that an interesting (and repetitious) coincidence! They would go like this: some other person would have a (surely illogical) problem with me. I knew that I had been lovely and listed the ways for her unappreciative ears. She would fling accusations (”You read my journal!”), and I would fling accusations (”You tried to sleep with my boyfriend!”). Never mind that I shouldn’t have read her journal, I just kept hammering about her hitting on my boyfriend. I absolved myself for violating her privacy because I did it for good reason: I was trying to find out if she had succeeded in seducing whatever scumbag I was dating at the time. *I* was the wronged one here and if she didn’t have the self-awareness to understand that, well, I wasn’t going to waste my time on her. Eventually it got to the point where we couldn’t even be in the same room. When we ran into each other at Crazy Mama’s, whoever was there first got to stay. The other one would have to retreat to Mean Mister Mustard’s. During my teen years, there were approximately 1,456 people I had to avoid at Crazy Mama’s. Hmmmm. Eventually I took a look at those ruined relationships and said, “Could any of this be my fault?” It was a big paradigm shift but I still wasn’t quite ready to make changes.
When I started working at the YWCA, my boss said something about how if you had a client that pushed your buttons and you didn’t deal with the part of you that was triggered by said client, that you would keep on meeting clients just like her. She thought it was life’s way of telling you that it was high time for some personal growth in that area. “Oh no!” we’d whine. “Not more personal growth! Can’t we just give the bitch another rule violation and kick her ass out???” Nope, we had to deal with the client, deal with ourselves, and start heading for enlightenment. I have to say that some of my most difficult clients were also (eventually) the most rewarding. Fortunately, skills gained in shelter carried over into my regular old life, too.
It took me awhile to figure out that it’s not statistically possible for me to be right all the time. It’s not possible to be blameless all the time. There’s a sociological precept that says, “If someone thinks that something is true, then it is true.” In other words, if someone believes that I have wronged them then it’s important for me to figure out why she/he believes that because to them it’s true. If I value that person, I have to listen to what she/he has to say because chances are, I bear some responsibility for his/her pain.
I understand the defense mechanism behind refusing responsiblity. For one thing, our pop culture/feel good mentality is all about refusing to “own” the pain we cause others. After all, they choose to feel how they want to feel, right? Well, yeah, sorta. But that doesn’t mean that we haven’t done anything wrong. And it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t say we’re sorry.
When Brett and I argue, it’s hard for both of us (mostly me) to resolve the argument instead of winning it. It’s no good winning — “you are bad, I am good” — if the issues remain unresolved; not if you want to stay married. Now I say to myself, “Is it worth winning the argument if my partner still feels like shit? Do I love my position in this debate more than I love him? Do I value victory more than I value him?” I know, I know. That seems so obvious but it was a major epiphany for both of us (mostly me — Brett’s a much better person than I am).
We all have flaws. Some flaws are worth jettisoning people for (abuse, for example) but most don’t outweigh the value of that person. I’m trying hard to get brave enough to tell people when I’m hurt by them but it’s hard. I know it’s hard for them to hear, too. But if a friendship is *real*, then we work it out. I listen when they’re hurt, they listen when I’m hurt. Sometimes people walk away and that’s the end of the friendship. I’ve walked away way too many times but I’m sticking it out from now on. I recently had someone walk away from me and it sucks but there you go. That’s karma for you, baby.
It scares me, but lately I’ve been reaching out to friends to ask for help and for the most part, they’re happy to help. I’m pretty damn grateful for that.
I still have a lot to learn about friendships. I learn the most from the friends I have who are more evolved than I am. I’m thankful that they like me even when I don’t quite deserve to be liked. But then, isn’t that kind of the definition of a friend? Someone who helps you grow into the person you could be? And hey, nobody — least of all my boss at the YWCA — said that growth comes easy.
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February 01, 2002I’ve been working on building the archives all day. It’s been fun but I’m sure I’ve made a zillion little mistakes that I won’t catch for a long, long time. I hate that.
There are two months that have no archives. I forgot to save my blogs for those months. In one of them, I think I was talking about Ann Tyler and I’m sorry to lose that one. Anyway, I’ve decided to change the pic there to the left every month. For the fine month of February, we will be featuring Ms. Enid Bagnold. Not only was she a gifted author, she was also a morphine addict.
I have some other stuff to write about but I want to get all of my pages uploaded so maybe I’ll come back later or catch up tomorrow.
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