Archive for the 'Guilt' CategoryPage 2 of 8

Thick with thought.

Do you know what I mean? The constant spinning of one’s mind. Thought after thought after thought builds on thought after thought after thought… Free association, if you will.

The list of to-do’s… The consequences of not accomplishing the to-do’s… What NEEDS to be done? What on that list is do or die? If I don’t “do” who or what will die? Really? OMG. How will it all get done?

Then there’s the guilt. If I had managed my time better… If I had done “this” instead of “that”. I wish I had paid closer attention. I should have told he kids “NO”. I should have told the kids “NO” and made sure they listened. I should have let them help me. I can’t believe Livi will be in first grade.

Should I homeschool her? I homeschooled Cole for first grade. It was so hard. But it was so wonderful. I’m not ready for her to be at school all day. I feel so sad. I feel relieved that school starts next week. I don’t really know how I feel. I feel like crying. I don’t want her gone all day.

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The Olympics, Blog 365 and melatonin… among other things.

It is August 11th, and I have blogged everyday of 2008. Man am I tired. It hasn’t been hard to come up with things to write about, but it has been hard to find the time to write about the things I really want to. It is even harder to keep up blog reading! My feeds are out. of. control. I have 15 drafts in que - all incomplete. I have several post-its filled with ideas, a Word document folder with incomplete stories, and a file on my desktop filled with sites and blogs I want to write about and link to.

The summer rolled in like a steam train and I guarded my family time in the beginning… floated in the pool, went to the park, tried to keep things a little tidy around the house, and sorted through mountains of hand-me-downs that had been filling my basement for a year. I kept up with training after my half-marathon the beginning of June, and rolled half-heartedly into my triathlon training. Then Blog Her ‘08 came and went, a  week-long visit from my parents, then my triathlon… Soon, Grandma will be here for a week and then a couple of other short family excursions will wrap-up August. School shopping needs to get done, neither of my 2 older children have had their check-ups, I need a blood-test to check on my thyroid levels, and there is a local sprint triathlon coming up the beginning of September, and I really want to do it. I gave up on the whole “Half Iron” tri - for this season. Oh, should I try a full marathon in November? I chalked the October marathon option last week. Too soon. If only I had no interests…

And NOW… the Olympics! I could gorge my eyes on all that is swimming. Michael Phelps… go! I watched his mother cheer for him on Saturday… my word it was precious. I cried with her. She doesn’t know it, but we cried together in celebration of her boy’s first gold in this Olympics. And then there’s Dara Torres, who could be my nemesis, except I’m not fast like her so I am just green with envy, and 6 years younger.

Did you see the Men’s 400 freestyle relay??? Me. Neither. !!!!! Why? Because I needed sleep. I set my alarm for 4:10 so I could get a sufficient workout after taking almost a week off. To assure I would get better rest - I took a tablet of melatonin. It takes me forever to get to sleep… except with this new tablet of magic takes over. I love thee melatonin…

SO. Whilst my husband laid in bed next to me and cheered the US mens freestyle relay to what look like the single most incredible swimming race any human could ever see !!!!!!!!!!… I slept. Hard. 

And that, My Dears is a post in which I clear my head. 

How do people do it??? Live. Blog. Eat. Mother children. Read and comment on blogs. Twitter. Work. Have an iPhone. Exercise. Go dancing. Blog. Sleep. ???? Any secrets? I am feeling like something has to give. And right now, I am thinking I am not ready to give up that melatonin… 

Oh, here’s a first step… I’m not linking in this post. I’m sure Google will take you to all the hot Olympic coverage. I already ran 4 miles, but now (instead of linking)… I have to do some dishes, fold some laundry, sort some bills, make a hair appointment (roots are not pretty), get the spawn their breakfast, remind them to brush their teeth and wash their faces and find their shoes, and then we must catch a ferry and pick up Grandma from the airport. I wonder what I should make for dinner. 

***rusting in pantry for Hamburger Helper***

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Help is not all that helpful.

***From the mind of the mother of 3 children. A post in which I propose and prove the following theory: “help” is - in fact- a form medieval torture for mothers.***

I don’t like “help”. Often times (read: every… time…), help is, actually Not. All. That. Helpful.

It’s not that I want or need to do all the work… make all the effort… I am a HUGE fan of minimal effort, but not a huge fan of “help”.

What I am trying to communicate is: If I have to do the work I want to control the pace, the rhythm, the progress. Progress people! Steady progress! 

OR

I want someone else (read: adult) to do all the work. And not just the “start” but also the “finish”, because a “start” without a “finish” is not “ALL”… it is “helping”, and I think I have established I am not a huge fan of “help”.

Note: I write this with great guilt. My kids love to “help”, and this is a hard area in my relationship with my children. Especially when cooking. Especially. I need to let them “help”… because, for me, that is what a good mom does… teaches, nurtures… And I want to be that for them. Of course, not yelling would be a “good mom” thing also.

Baby steps.

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Ahhh! Gahhh! Squeee!!! Ahhh!!!

See that? 

I’m excited.

See that!?

I. Am. S to the tressed!

See that?!!

I am REALLY reeeeeeellly excited.

Ahhh! Ahhh!

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I taught Sunday school

the other day… To the 2-4 year old class. There were 10 of Them. Ten. My chest hurts thinking about it.

I got my degree in Social Studies. I received a teaching credential to teach at the secondary level. I actually taught high school for a whole year. I decided to teach youth because I was afraid of little people. I was afraid of - Yard. Duty. If I wanted to be a bouncer, I’d have worked at a bar.

You know what I think? I think pubescent lunacy is tame compared to… to… Preschoolers. In. Sunday. School. I’m quivering.

How the hockey sticks does classroom management work in Sunday School? Can you give a detention to a 2 year old in Sunday School? Not so mauch. Where’s the principal? Back up! I need back up! 

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Remember the Sunsets: The Last Day of School

Today was The Last Day of School and it makes me feel old… aged… older… aging…. sad.

When my life evolved to the point where it made sense to have a baby, I pictured myself the mommy of a soft baby, with buttercream for skin. Forever. My daydreams never veered. The whole world was pastel and cooed… Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star was the theme song that played softly in my dreamy, baby mamma heart. 

Imagine my surprise when I learned that lasted, like, a month.

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Party shortcuts: a few ideas on a Strawberry Shortcake party.

As I age, my standards get lower and lower and lower. Kind of like my… whatever…. 

My first child’s first birthday party had 2 character cakes (Bob & Larry of VeggieTales), goody bags, a BBQ with homemade salads, hand chopped produce, homemade side dishes, and hand made invitations as well as thank you cards… and like, 50 people.

Then there was his 8th birthday party - the one that was 4 months AFTER his birthday.

I’m thinking moderation is key. Cole’s first birthday was one extreme, his 8th was another. Funny how these events reflect the state of My mind… uber mania vs. uber guilt.

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Good News & Bad News

The good news: Flocasts.org! I. Am. In. Lu-huv. Katie’s daughter, “E” (I call her E-Speed, cuz she’s a Speedy Speederson) is on the local high school track team. She and Katie introduced me to this handy little site. I can’t tell you how many miles I have driven to map out a long run. But with this discovery, I can do it all from my computer - saving gas and time… There are lots of other features as well, but I am most excited about the route mapping! Stinkin’ awesome!

The bad news: The Star-Vixen’s Mint Mocha Chip Frap. If I do not get a taste-bud-ectomy, it is quite possible I will need to switch from my minivan to an Econoline cuzza that Crack will PACK. IT. ON. Did you know they top that sista’ with CHOCOLATE whip? I always understood Crack was powdery-r-somethin’. Nope. It is actually a creamy, chocolate cloud of lovely whole-dairy fatness… churned in Heaven. With a spoon of gold. In a diamond bowl… and then it is drizzled with Chocolate Sauce of All Loveliness.

Once I became completely committed to drop the baby weight, it became easy to resist whip. Really. I had gotten to the point where whip actually grossed me out. But. Or is it BUTT… chocolate whip? Mother of Pearl! How is a red-blooded American woman supposed to turn from that? Huh? Huh?! 

One week to the race

I can resist the Vixen and her evil temptations… I will turn my eyes… I will burn my tongue… I can resist the Vixen and her evil temptations… I will turn my eyes… I will burn my tongue… I can resist the Vixen and her evil temptations… I will turn my eyes… I will burn my tongue…I can resist the Vixen and her evil temptations… I will turn my eyes… I will burn my tongue…

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Amish Friendship Bread, among other things

Goody! A list of Downey Downersons:

My Amish Friendship Bread is baking for another 35 minutes… The kids wanted to help make it. I forgot until after they were asleep (thank you Lord they fell asleep). It is day 10, and I had to make it. I am so bummed the kids didn’t get to “help”. This makes me feel like I have ripped childhood joy from their sticky, filthy palms. However, I am keeping one of the “starters” and we’ll try this again in 10 days…

I have a butt-load of emails and phone calls I have not been able to return in a timely manner.

With the layer of dust on my furniture, one might presume Mt. St. Helens blew her top again.

What happens to my hand towels in my guest bathroom? We. Have. Not. Had. Guests. Recently.

I just ate a bowl and a second bowl of Oreo ice cream with a couple of scoops of Jif - cuz that’s the smart thing for a girl to do when she’s packed on a few in the last couple of weeks and has to run in a half-marathon in, like, 10 days. Just keepin’ it real pzeeple.

I am not usually embarrassed at the condition of my home. But I was today. Someone came by who has never been here before. I gave a quick tour. There was not one corner that didn’t have crap piled in/on/upon/around/within it. Not. One. Now, I don’t need a clean house, but there are limits.

I stink. I worked out this afternoon and need to wash off the stank of fitness (all undone due to that double bowl of Stupid-n-Jif I ate a little while ago).

My desk. Oh my heck. You don’t want to know.

Yeah. Blog365. That too. It’s usually not a problem for me, but there are days. This is one of them. I have posted everyday this year, and do I blow it because of stink and dust and paperwork and emails and chaos? I know, it’s not a competition… except I am all about frivolous pressure and adding stress and intensity to my life… because, ya know - my life needs to be “spruced up”.

Watching the finale of Lost now - at 11:20 p.m. (recorded)… I’m feeling a little better now.

 

“Mo-ooooommm!!!…”

Olivia cried early this morning, “The Tooth Fairy didn’t come!!!” 

That darned tooth had been hanging for weeks. The Tooth Fairy SHOULD NOT have missed her delivery. Plus, Cole just broke her wrist - the Tooth Fairy should never miss visiting the 6-year-old-girl with lopsided ponytails and a broken wrist.

Joel added from across the hall, “Yeah! Hey MOM! Remember the time the Tooth Fairy forgot to come for FOUR NIGHTS?!!!”

Yeah. She remembers. Maybe the Tooth Fairy should start depositing the cash straight into the kids’ therapy fund.