Tuesday, August 22, 2006

My how you've grown!

Kids will grow up regardless of where their daddy is stationed at the time.

I took the kids back to the gym nursery today. Since my mom was out from Thursday through last night, she watched them during that time when I went to the gym. Today was their first day back in nearly a week (I didn't go on Wednesday).

The women there marveled at how big The Boy has gotten. They insisted he had really grown in just those few days.

That made me think of dh. He's been gone for 106 days now. I can only imagine how he feels about our baby growing and changing so much in his absence.

My mother keeps insisting The Boy will be walking soon (mind you, he's not even standing on his own yet). I just brush that aside insisting I highly doubt it. Inside, though, I'm silently pleading with the baby NOT to walk. Please save that for your daddy.

The girls' first word was "Dada." The Boy's first words have been "Milk," "Mama," and "Bye bye." He babbled "Dada" on the phone with his daddy last month (when dh was actually calling us) and dh asked, "Does he know what he's saying?" I replied with the diplomatic, "No, he's not really saying anything, he's just making sounds." But I thought to myself, "How could he know what he's saying? He has no concept of Daddy. To him, Daddy means pictures and the telephone." I didn't dare say that out loud, though. Dh told me in a firm tone, "He'll know who I am."

I've been listening to Vienna Teng's Lullabye For A Stormy Night quite a bit lately. I love it and I use it as a spring board to try to be a better parent. The other day, though, I listened to the song and tried to imagine dh hearing it and what it would mean to him. That just breaks my heart.

You can hear the entire song here: Vienna Teng (this is NOT her official MySpace page)

From ViennaTeng.com (discography/Waking Hour/Lullabye...)

Lullabye For a Stormy Night

little child, be not afraid
though rain pounds harshly against the glass
like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger
I am here tonight

little child, be not afraid
though thunder explodes and lightning flash
illuminates your tear-stained face
I am here tonight

and someday you'll know
that nature is so
the same rain that draws you near me
falls on rivers and land
on forests and sand
makes the beautiful world that you'll see
in the morning

little child, be not afraid
though storm clouds mask your beloved moon
and its candlelight beams, still keep pleasant dreams
I am here tonight

little child, be not afraid
though wind makes creatures of our trees
and their branches to hands, they're not real, understand
and I am here tonight

for you know, once even I was a
little child, and I was afraid
but a gentle someone always came
to dry all my tears, trade sweet sleep for fears
and to give a kiss goodnight

well now I am grown
and these years have shown
that rain's a part of how life goes
but it's dark and it's late
so I'll hold you and wait
'til your frightened eyes do close

and I hope that you'll know...

everything's fine in the morning
the rain'll be gone in the morning
but I'll still be here in the morning

Monday, August 21, 2006


I. am. terrified.

Had someone else call to check on dh today. He told this guy the same lies. Everyone here sees something is very wrong. No one there does.

I'm either going to get my husband back in a body bag or fucked up beyond recognition.

They really don't care much if they lose him. To the military, he's just one of many. If we lose him, we lose our world.

I'm out of ideas. I'm out of my mind. I'm running out of hope.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

and then the bad news

Why did I vanish? Where did I go? What has happened since then?

There is no short version of the story. There's no way to keep this brief. I'm sorry.

I'm scared. I thought dh needed to speak to a counselor. He wasn't responding to my e-mails and had nothing to say when he called. It's strikingly similar to when he was diagnosed with PTS. I wrote to him about some very serious stuff and he never responded. I sent him 38 e-mails over 3 weeks. Of those, he responded to 1. Among those 38 were 2 requests for him to contact his parents--a call to his dad on his 60th birthday and a request that he e-mail his mother. I also asked him over the phone to do both things. I assumed he had done that. Just a few days ago, I found dh has had no contact at all with his family the entire time he's been gone.

Even before I found that out, I e-mailed him telling him I thought he needed to speak to someone. I made sure that I said repeatedly in the letter that I love him. I didn't want it to come across as, "You suck. Get some help." I think he's a fabulous guy, but it's pretty obvious to me that he needs to talk to someone. He hasn’t been himself in a long time.

I never dreamed that after that letter, I would go weeks without hearing a word from him.

That terrified me. That baffled everyone here who knows him. That convinced me something needed to be done. I decided that if a second week went by without hearing from him, I'd do what needed to be done to get him some help. When that exact thing happened, I made calls. After getting the runaround, they eventually got a hold of dh and talked to him about the situation. He lied to them--bold outright lies. I've written to ask him why, but he hasn't responded (big shock). Well, I told them he was lying. They believed me.

It was at that point that I called my sister screaming and crying asking, "What the fuck is going on? Who is this? What happened to my husband?"

Of course, my mother is visiting. She got to see all of that. You cannot show weakness in front of my mother. In The Tower, Vienna Teng sings about, “someone who reaches out to my weakness and won't let go." Yeah, that's my mom.

So let's stop and take stock. Now I'm resentful towards dh because
  • #1. He won't get help.
  • #2. He tore out my heart and the kids' hearts and stomped all over them by not having any contact with us at all (although, I’ve been lying to them and telling them that he has been e-mailing to ask about them and tell them he loves them, but they want to speak to him and I don’t have an excuse as to why Daddy isn’t calling).
  • #3. I had to spend way too much time on the phone trying to get a hold of people who would encourage/order him to speak to someone. That's time I could have devoted to my kids (who really need me right now) if dh would just speak to someone. All he had to do was make an appointment to speak to a counselor there. Since he wouldn't do that, I have to add to my "to do" list.
  • #4. He lied to his supervisors and tried (whether consciously or not) to make me look like a silly little over-anxious wife.
  • #5. I have an appointment with a counselor on Wednesday in an attempt to find out HOW THE HELL to communicate with the man that my loving husband has morphed into. Remember, I HATE seeing shrinks. Now I have to see one because he's forcing me into that situation.
  • #6. All this could be avoided if he would just A. Talk to me, but if he is in fact suffering from PTS and therefore can't contact me, then he could B. SPEAK TO SOMEONE.
  • #7. My mother was here to witness my breakdown. I will never be able to live that down.

I love my husband dearly. I desperately do NOT want to feel resentful. I suppose that is a good topic to bring up with the counselor on Wednesday. Pardon me while my jaw tightens at the very thought.

After hearing from his supervisors, Dh finally wrote to me and amid a few lines of small-talk BS, he said, "I’m sorry for being an asshole. I never wanted to hurt you and I hate myself for doing it."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. THEN DON'T FUCKING DO IT! JUST STOP IT ALREADY! If you want to stop hurting me—hurting all of us, but for some reason, can’t, then don’t ya think maybe you need some help?

And then I feel crestfallen and think, “I never wanted you to hate yourself. I don’t hate you. I love you, but you’re scaring me.”

I wrote back. The first two responses were typed with hands that shook and eyes blurred with tears. A few were written when I felt a bit more calm. He has responded to none of them.

I don't know. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I don't know where to turn. I don't know what to expect. I just don't know.

First the good news

I'm smaller now. I was weighed and measured at the gym after my 31 day mark.

According to their scale, I lost 6 lbs. According to my (better) scale at home (and better because it's more technologically advanced, not just because it gave me a lower reading), I've lost closer to 10 lbs. According to my measurements, I've lost 12 1/2 inches. My biggest losses were in my abs (2 inches) and my bust (2 and 1/2). Of course this is AFTER I bought a bunch of new nursing bras in the insanely large size. Oh well, I'll deal.

I'm too small for a bunch of the new shorts/capris I have including a few that are size 8s. Everyone don your pom poms and give me a WOO HOO.

On Friday, I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Mom's here and we've been eating out, so I'm sure I'm not anymore, but I shouldn't be too far away. That's 20 lbs heavier than where I was last time dh deployed (the skinniest I've been in 15 years). But hey, that's better than 30 lbs away which is where I was a month ago or even the 40 lbs away I was 4 or 5 months ago.

Oh, and I got the hair chopped off. I promised to take my sister to my favorite salon for a haircut a year or two ago, but it never happened. Since mom was here, she watched my kids so we could go do just that. We both got our hair chopped off. Here we have photographic evidence. I'm the head on the left.

Here I am.

I'm back. I'm not sure to what degree I'm back, but I'm here.

I've written a few posts that I saved as drafts. I just published them.

An update:

I called to bail on that friend who asked me to watch her kids that day. Things were just too stressful. She gracefully accepted the fact I was letting her down and then she decided to throw her weight around where it didn't belong. She insisted if I continue homeschooling my children, my sanity will be at stake. How she thinks 3 hours of pre-school is going to magically save my life, I don't know. Or maybe she thinks the fight to get my kids into Kindergarten would be "fun" for my sanity (the girls are 4, but we've been doing a K curriculum. No public school here will take 4-year-olds into K without a fight). Either way, she was abrasive and intrusive. When I hung up with her, I called other friends and screamed about the situation. I love my friends. They raised some fabulous points about why the "Public schools will save your sanity" train of thought didn't work.

Another friend of mine stopped by on her move cross-country. She and her new husband (who I adore) stayed the night. We had a great time.

I'll save the discussion as to why I went on hiatus for another entry, another LONG entry.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Just say, "No."

Stress just loves me.

A friend called me yesterday to ask me to watch her kids. I adore her and her kids, but I don't have time for this. She is, however, the same friend who brought me food when I broke my toe and then she came over the next day so I could go food shopping without the bigger kids.

You see, though, I never asked her to do any of those things. She insisted. So now I kind of resent being asked to help when I have so much to do.

I spent yesterday on the phone calling around trying to get help for dh and trying to find someone for me to talk to as well. I'll be perfectly honest, I feel resentful towards dh for forcing me into a situation where not only do I need to find a way to get help for him (a man in his 30s who should be able to take care of himself), but now I'm being backed into a corner where I need to speak to someone. I. do. not. like. shrinks! I've been down that road and it's not for me. Personally, I prefer to resolve my own issues. I've done just that for about 15 years in a much more satisfactory manner than any shrink ever has. Now, though, I have to turn to a professional #1. To give me the tools to deal with dh and his suspected PTS (I haven't heard a word from him in a while. He hasn't even asked about the kids) and #2. In hopes that a counselor will tell me that I am not, in fact, insane for expecting my husband to SPEAK TO ME.

So now I'm waiting to hear back not only from a counselor for me, but also from his commanding officers out there. I told them not to get anything started there, though. I'm holding out hope that dh will get help for himself. Maybe it's naive, but I still trust him to do the right thing. I'm not sure why. I'm absolutely crushed from this no contact thing, but I know dh (or at least who he is when he's home) and I know he's sweet, smart, caring, and insightful. I have always believed in him and maybe it just hurts too much to realize I can't do that right now. Regardless, I'm hoping he makes the right decision. I'm still hoping he'll contact us soon. If not, though, this train's moving forward.

On top of that, a dear friend got married this past weekend and is now moving cross-country with her brand new husband. That will take her right past my doorstep. She expects to be here tomorrow. I haven't seen her in years and I'm dying to, but that means I need to get this place cleaned up. It's a mess.

On Thursday, my mom comes out for a few days. She's staying here. So not only do I need to clean up the areas of the house that are open to the public, I also have to clean up the guest room.

I need to make all sorts of appointments to fit into the small window of time when mom will be visiting. I never get someone to watch the kids, so I need to really take advantage of these few days. That means spending the day on the phone calling everyone from the dentist to the hair salon.

Oh and let's not forget all the time I'm wasting on the damn computer checking for e-mails that never come and visiting MySpace to see when dh signed in last (it’s killing me to not know what he’s up to on a daily basis, but at least if I see he has signed in that day, I know that he was in front of the computer for a few minutes. I know he's still alive).

Adding to the list of stressors, last night I got no sleep. Well, to be honest, I got about 3 hours of sleep. I stayed up working on a gift for a friend. Then I continued to stay up to fix something I made for dh, but have yet to send. So I fell asleep around 1 am. Girl1 was up at 2 am whining that she was, "Afraid of the dark." At this point, I wanted to scream and punch dh ("Afraid of the dark," means she misses daddy). Instead, I got up and escorted her back to bed. She asked for one of the glow-in-the-dark stars off her bedroom door (I tried that the night before when she woke up afraid of the dark and wouldn't go back to bed). I gave it to her and we all went back to bed. At 5, the boy woke up. I nursed him and put him in the swing (the batteries are dead, but for some reason, it's the only place where he'll go back to sleep in the morning). Of course, I haven't been able to fall back to sleep after him, so after trying desperately this morning, I opted to get up and clean. Yes, I was cleaning at 6 am. No, I am very much NOT a morning person. Of course, the girls were asleep in their room and The Boy was asleep in the play room, so I was limited to which areas I could actually clean (of course not many of the areas that really need it).

And yeah, now I need to head to the gym as soon as the nursery opens so I can get back here in time to watch someone else's kids in addition to mine.

Oh and when I called my friend last night to ask her to bring the kids over around noon, I couldn’t get a hold of her and she never called me back. They don’t get moving until 10/11 am and I’ll be in the gym then without my cell. UGH!

I SO don't want to do this, but she helped me out. So I can't turn my back on her. My stomach is just in a giant knot right now because I very much do NOT want to do this.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Misty water-colored memories...

One big part of military life is the red tape. So we went yesterday to do the insurance shuffle. It's a not so fun little dance that they make us do every so often for stupid reasons. Oh, it's tons of fun for the whole family, especially when one of those family members was supposed to fall asleep in the car on the way there, but has refused to do so and is cranky and tired while you try to fill out said mountains of paperwork. Happy happy, joy joy!

Anyhow, at one point, I stood next to a man in uniform. The Boy was absolutely fixated. I could not get him to turn away from that guy for any amount of money. I said out loud, "You can't remember. He's been gone since you were 4 months old." It would seem, however, that The Boy does remember.

I'm happy he really does remember, but it breaks my heart for oh so many reasons.

Me want cookie.

Why is it with tiny babies, we're told food is so very important, but when that baby gets a bit older, no one seems to care that food is potentially very dangerous?

People insist moms can't/shouldn't exclusively breastfeed because how else is dad supposed to bond? We all know that in this society, food = love. Everyone seems to forget that daddy can hold the baby, rock the baby, change the baby, bathe the baby, cuddle the baby, sing to the baby, change the baby again, dance with the baby, read to the baby, etc. No, to listen to some people, you'd think food is the be all end all in a baby's life.

So why is it that someone gave my baby a cookie without my permission and they thought nothing of it? The policy at the gym nursery is absolutely no food or drinks. Well, that's largely ignored. Apparently a little girl gave The Boy an animal cracker. Did they take it away from him? Did they remind the girl's mother about the food policy? No, they let my baby--my not yet started on solids baby--my family history of food allergies baby eat that cookie. "Oh," the head woman there insisted, "He didn't really eat it. He just chewed at it and made a mess." How she thought he chewed on it and didn't eat any of it is beyond me.

Food is obviously a life source, but it can also be a death sentence. This cookie had wheat, dairy, and eggs--all things that your average everyday child is advised not to have for the first 12 months, but it's imperative that a child with a family history of food allergies not be exposed to these things. More than one study suggests a connection between dairy and diabetes. There is one study from around 2003 that found a child had a higher risk of developing type 1 (Juvenile) Diabetes when they were exposed to dairy before the first year. My brother has Type 1 Diabetes. My daughters and my niece were all very dairy sensitive. My girls were until after their second birthday, my 4-year-old niece is only now starting to outgrow it.

Remember, food allergies can kill. What is just a simple cookie to one person can cause another person to go into anaphylactic shock.

It just baffles my mind that some people can't grasp that.

Thursday, August 10, 2006


I'm taking a break from the blogging world for a while.

When the situation changes, I'll be back.

I hope my return will be sooner rather than later. We shall see.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Another gem from Vienna Teng

I'm a posting fool today.

I've been listening to a lot of Vienna Teng once again (took Waking Hour out of the CD player for a few weeks, but it's back now). Looking through her lyrics, this from Eric's Song really struck me:

strange how certain the journey
time unfolds the petals for our eyes to see
strange how this journey's hurting
in ways we accept as part of fate's decree

And I just love the last verse. I think it's pertinent.

so we just hold on fast
acknowledge the past
as lessons exquisitely crafted
painstakingly drafted
to carve us as instruments
that play the music of life
for we don't realize
our faith in the prize
unless it's been somehow elusive
how swiftly we choose it
the sacred simplicity
of you at my side

You're on notice

Special thanks are extended to a friend who sent me the link to the On Notice generator.

A letter from a 4-year-old to her daddy

Girl2 showed me her writing board yesterday. She had written a few strings of letters that spelled nothing really. To her, though, it was a letter for Daddy. She translated for me. Initially, it just said, "I want you to come home," but when I told her I'd take a picture of her with her letter to send to Daddy, she gave me the director's cut. I damn near wanted to cry when she told me what it was supposed to say:

“I want you, but you’re in the desert. I just need you, but you’re gone. I want you to come home.”

Fear not

I know my recent posts have been awfully dark. Honestly, that's how I'm feeling. Fear not, though. They are not THAT dark.

In some ways, that's liberating. In other ways, it just makes it more frightening.

Let's start the discussion with a song. I listened to this one a few times today:

Drought by Vienna Teng
click for a sample

Summer move forward and stitch me the fabric of fall
wrap life in the brilliance of death to humble us all
how sweet is the day
I'm craving a darkness
as I sit tucked away with my back to the wall

and the taste of dried-up hopes in my mouth
and the landscape of merry and desperate drought
how much longer dear angels
let winterlight come
and spread your white sheets over my empty house

summer move forward and leave your heat anchored in dust
forgotten him, cheated him, painted illusions of lust
now language escape, fugitive of forgiveness
leaving as trace only circles of rust

and the taste of dried-up hopes in my mouth
and the landscape of merry and desperate drought
how much longer dear angels
come break me with ice
let the water of calm trickle over my doubts

come let me drown
angels no fire no salt on the plow
carry me down
bury me down

and the taste of dried-up hopes in my mouth
and the landscape of merry and desperate drought
once I knew myself
and with knowing came love
I would know love again if I had faith enough
too far is next spring and her jubilant shout
so angels, inside
is the only way out

Having shared that, I will say that there was a point in my life where the song's topic had a certain allure to me. I tend not to speak about the topic, but I once had physical scars from my depression. In my dark days, I wore those marks with pride. In brighter moments, I was absolutely ashamed of them. They were badges of stupidity and weakness. I grew up. I dealt with some issues and pushed others out of reach until later when I found someone (I thought) who would help me stomp through those memories (and he did at the time when the wounds were fresh. He has just abandoned me now when I need him to do nothing more than reach out a hand and pull me up from the dark pit of my past). I am not that morbid little girl I was years ago. In high school, "friends" teased me saying, "You're so morbid." All I could do was think to myself, "You have no idea."

I am not that girl. There were dark thoughts that little girl would invite in. "Pull up a chair. Sit right here beside me. I want to hear everything you have to say." In the 10 or 15 years since then, those thoughts have never even come knocking.

Fear not. They still stay away. I listened to that song today (and sang along because I never can just listen to a song) in the car and it hit me that it's not even an option. It's not even something I can phathom. That's freeing to know I don't have to walk on eggshells just to keep the evil at bay--always worried it could come back to bite. Those days are long gone.

At the same time, it's a bit restrictive. I have one less choice. When jumping off the depression isn't an option, then you have to face the dark reality that you must work your way through it. I honestly can't fully remember what it was like in the past. I remember writing a letter (that I never sent) to a friend explaining that it was like being stuck in a long dark hallway. You couldn't see anything, but you could feel doors along the walls. When you opened them, though, you were either greeted by more nothingness or monsters waiting to pounce.

No, it's not anything like that now. It's dark here in my head, but there are no monsters. There are long pauses and far too much silence, but the nothingness is long gone.

Fear not.

Shoot me now!

The girls are screaming--for water. If they had asked politely rather than whining, 'I'M THIRSTY," over and over again, I would have gotten it for them. When Girl1 finally did ask somewhat politely and I told her I would get it as soon as the whining stopped (she was rolling on the floor whining), she got up, kept whining, came over to me, and hit me.

Now they're both screaming in the play room.

I'm so sick of this.

The boy is napping, but probably only for another few minutes. I'm ready to crawl out of my skin from the combination of the sound of the girls' whining and my lack of sleep.

I just don't know.

I took yesterday's entry down for a while. I just don't know if I want to share that much. I decided to put it back up 'cause I don't like censoring myself.

I've talked to dh since then. Still more of the same. This time we spoke, but it was mainly just him saying, "I don't know what to say," and me asking, "After all the time we've been together, how do you NOT know what to say?"

I've been out with friends. I've done some things around the house. I'm trying to find a way to shake this. There's only so much I can do myself, though.

The fact that the Boy refused to sleep AGAIN is not helping.

I can run around all I want. I can travel farther than I ever have before. In the end, though, I'll always wind up back in our bed all alone.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006


I'm miserable. I feel like a pathetic teenager waiting by the phone for some stupid boy to call.

I'm torn. I'm livid and desperately in love all at the same time.

I love my husband dearly. There are times when I'm frightened by how strong my love is for him. I thought it was just a cliché, but I really do fall more and more in love with him as time goes by. Then again, he has let me down in the worst way. He knows I'm scared. He knows I'm feeling things I don't care to share. He knows I need him. I've written to him to make absolutely certain that he knows all this. I'm fully aware of the fact that he can't read minds. While I would love it if he just knew exactly what I needed without me having to say a word, I realize that's not going to happen. So I've written to him repeatedly telling him exactly what I need.

I check my e-mail obsessively. I check my messages all the time. I have sisters who call me the minute they see Dh's "Online now" icon appear, only to have me in tears because by the time I find out about it, dh is already gone. Then he calls and we sit there in silence. I've told him all the things I need to hear from him. He says nothing. I have no words. Do you understand what a big red flag that is for me to not have anything to say? I've said it all. I've screamed. I've cried. I've whimpered. I've begged. I have nothing left to say. I'm done.

I'm falling deeper and deeper into this misery.

I was furious that dh left me alone when he knows I need him. I realize he has no say over where he's stationed and for how long. He's not responsible for leaving me physically alone. He is, however, responsible for leaving me--for leaving all of us, alone emotionally. He is responsible for pulling away. He is responsible for not writing. He is responsible for his silence on the phone when I need nothing more in the world than to know he loves me.

I'm still angry, but more than anything, I feel defeated. I love him so much. I wish his actions (or inaction) could change that. I wish I could shut down like him. I can't. I can't hate him. I can't just cut him off and forget about him. He's on my mind constantly. Every time I check for messages and find none, I'm crushed. So I'm left here more miserable than ever.

I want so badly to be held tightly in his arms while I cry. That's all I want. I don't need much more in the world than his love. Why is he denying me that now?

Monday, August 07, 2006

When the going gets tough, the tough go shoe shopping (and then they dye their hair).

I have three new pairs of platform shoes. I ADORE platform shoes with a passion that frightens me.

Check out the three new jaw-dropping additions to my wardrobe. I adore them. This is my very favorite pair:

Yes, they really are as high as they appear. I LOVE them. I have yet to measure them, but I'm betting they're about 4 inches high. They're called "Sky-Hi" and it's oh so appropriate.

Last week, I wandered into a beauty supply store with the sister (never a good idea) and left with a red henna dye called "Fuzzy Navel" (think Claire Danes in My So Called Life). I wasn't thrilled with the spotty results (the color was pretty cool, but the dye didn't take well all over). So I figured screw it, I'll do something completely different.

And that is why my hair is now blue. Granted, it's blue/black, but still. I'm stealing the color swatch from the website, but it doesn't show up right. It's black under artificial light and blue in the sunlight. I like it. Plus it's SUPER shiny. I NEVER would have considered it, but the woman at the store the other day kept saying I had a dark enough complexion for it. Blink. Blink. Um...ah...me? Dark? I'm typically pretty pale. I'm naturally strawberry blonde if that tells you anything. I guess I'm tan enough right now, though. So I went for it.

It was the black that scared me off, not so much the blue. When I was stuck in high school, my hair went from orange to green, to yet another shade of green (which was supposed to be blue, but I was a blonde and so it turned green). I was all about the odd colors (yes, I was one of THOSE kids). For the past ten or so years, though, I've stuck with fairly normal colors (when I even bother to dye it).

When we saw the blue/black color at the store, though, my sister and I both "Oooohhhhed" over it. I said instantly, "Dh would hate that." To which my sister replied, "And that's why you need to do it...now...while he's gone." And so I have.

Here are photos, but since they were taken inside with a flash, you can't see the blue. You can, however, marvel at the shine.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Broken Toes, Fever, and Spots, Oh My!

I’ve had the week from hell. No amount of Hyland’s Nerve Tonic tablets are even taking off the edge. No amount of alcohol is taking off the edge. No amount of the two combined is taking off the edge (actually, combined they make me nauseated. Yes, I do know from experience. Why are you surprised? I'm not kidding about that week from hell thing).

Then it gets even “better.”

Yesterday, the Boy grabbed at a big heavy glass. He then dropped it. I moved him over and pushed it away. It didn’t hit him. It did, however, hit the middle toe on my left foot. It was dropped from about 4 feet up. I’m pretty sure he broke my toe. I couldn’t get a definitive answer from anyone on whether or not I should go to the ER. I decided it wasn’t worth the hassle and just taped it. I think he kinda chipped the top of the bone (between the nail and the top joint) and there’s really nothing the ER can do for that.

Girl2 was not being herself yesterday. She went down for a nap around 5 (she NEVER naps). She woke about an hour later screaming with a night terror (which she hasn’t had in the longest time). Even when I managed to wake her up, she still wouldn’t stop crying. I eventually convinced her to lie down on my bed. She fell asleep, but woke up screaming later. Oh and she also refused to eat any of her dinner. Both girls are Hoovers when it comes to food, so that was surprising. I realized she felt awfully warm, so I took her temperature. It was 103.6. A friend who’s a former RN was over. I asked her at what temperature I should consider the ER. She said 104. Happy freaking day!

I followed her suggestion and gave Girl2 some Tylenol, waited, and watched. An hour later, her fever was down to 101.6. So the friend left and I got ready for bed. As I crawled into bed, I noticed Girl2 felt hotter. Her temperature was 103.8. It was only an hour after I had taken her temp last. Called the sister and told her I was going to the ER. Sister left to come here and sit with the sleeping kids.

In the meantime, I called the doctor. He suggested watching Girl2 throughout the night and holding off on the ER. She felt a bit cooler, so I did. I sat there waiting for the sister (who I felt awful about having to send home after she schlepped all the way here) just holding Girl2, kissing her forehead repeatedly and apologizing that there was nothing I could do to make her feel better. Nothing brings out the motherly instincts like a sick child and nothing makes you feel more helpless. Wait, I take that back. Nothing makes you feel more helpless than a sick child AND a deployed spouse.

The boy spent the night in the swing. The girls stayed in my bed with me. I got nothing remotely resembling sleep. Girl2 woke up screaming 3 or 4 times. One time, she thrashed about and pulled my hair. I kept checking and she wasn’t all that warm, but I was kinda worried that she was hallucinating. Her temperature was 102.6 around 3 am. By 7, she felt cool to the touch and she said she felt all better.

I fully expect her to be covered in spots in a few days. I know from Girl1 that that’s the next step for this virus. The girls always like to match. This is a little extreme, though. Now we have to wait and see if the Boy and I get it. The spots look awful, so if I get it, I don’t know if I can leave the house. We already had the janitor at camp point to Girl1 and ask in horror, “What the hell’s wrong with her?” I don’t know that I could deal with the stares we’ll get if all 4 of us are spotted.

The gym is the only thing keeping me sane right now. I don’t know if they’ll take the kids if they’re all spotted even though the spots mean they’re no longer contagious. I don’t know if they’ll let me workout if I’m covered in spots. If I can’t work out, they’re going to have to slap on a straight jacket and lock me up. That is, if they’re willing to touch me with those spots.

G-d hates me.

Friday, August 04, 2006

I do not like my son much right now.

I went to bed at 11:11. The Boy woke up at 12:34. He would not go back to sleep. I gave up at 1:30 am and came out here to watch t.v./check my e-mail (of which there was none. Grrrr).

Total number of days during which I have gotten very little sleep: 4
Total hours of sleep I've had today: 1
Total number of hours I need to workout today even though I've had damn near no sleep: 2
Total number of people I'm going to bitch slap: every single one who gets in my way

I'm too tired to even cry at this point.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Analyzing the situation

I've been miserable about this stupid jealousy thing all day. What on earth is going on? I found myself close to tears three times while on the elliptical machine. I did a full hour of cardio to try to work my tension out, but no such luck. I found myself wishing for a kickboxing class to really channel the agression, but there were none to be had today.

The gym is not the best place to be left alone with your insecurities. When left to wander through unhappy thoughts, there's far too much damage to be done. You don't have anyone there to kick you in the pants and say, "Cut that the hell out."

I've recognized a few issues that are fueling this jealousy.

  • #1. I have issues with my self-esteem. I was a skinny kid for a while, but all of a sudden, as puberty approached, I got chubby. Then I got outright fat. I got down to a healthier weight by the time I started high school (I hit puberty awfully early), but I have never been happy with my body.

  • #2 (which is the first cousin of reason #1) I don't feel attractive at all. I'm too heavy. I feel a lot better about myself since I've been working out (and fitting into smaller clothes), but I'm still too heavy. I lost 30 lbs a few years back because I was disgusted by how heavy I was. I've been working out for nearly a month now and I'm still 3 lbs HEAVIER than I was when I was disgusted with myself last time. And yes, I understand muscle weighs more than fat and I know I'm getting leaner because I can see it, but I still weigh far too much.

  • #3. I'm not getting much positive feedback. One of the sisters has said positive things and a friend said nice things about pictures from the recent weekend trip (Thanks, Kamrin), but nothing from dh at all and nothing from other friends. Yesterday, I shoved myself into the smallest of the clothes that now fit me. I went to a meeting with folks who haven't seen me since before I started working out. I hoped someone would say something about me looking thinner. No one (other than the sister) said a word. The part of this that bothers me the most is that dh has said nothing at all. I sent him pictures. I write about the gym. He doesn't say anything. I had to come out and ask him about pictures I sent and all he said was, "Yeah, I see a difference." I damn near begged him to say something in an e-mail last week, but I got nothing. I'm left wondering if the silence is because he doesn't find me attractive and he just doesn't want to hurt my feelings. I'm pretty sure that's not the case, but I have to wonder.

  • #4. I feel badly that I need that feedback. I'm not sure how much #3 should be an issue. I feel badly because it's a huge problem--probably the reason most responsible for the jealousy. I know I should feel good about myself without having to have my ego stroked by outside sources and I think I would if I got even a tiny bit of it from dh. But I don't get that, so I find myself relying on it even more. I don't like to put the blame on others. I'm all for personal accountability. So I'm really torn on this. Part of me thinks I shouldn't blame my issues on what he does or doesn't do. If I don't feel attractive, that's my problem with which to deal. Another part of me thinks that he's my husband. I have every right to expect him to tell me if he thinks I look good. If I write damn near begging for a compliment, he should give one (unless, of course, he doesn't think one is deserved).
  • #5. This one is the sister's observation. I haven't gotten much sleep at all lately. That does not lead to clear thinking. She may be on to something. Maybe that does have something to do with it. I'm so emotional all of a sudden. It almost feels like PMS, but it's not because I'm still cycle-free thanks to nursing (with no signs of an impending visit from Aunt Flo).

And to top this all off, when I came home from the gym today (in tears), I found a message from camp. Girl1 has fifths disease and is covered in spots. Oh and The Boy woke up far too soon from his nap which left me no time to crawl in bed and bawl.

Check, please. I'm done.

Someone pass the alcohol, FAST.

I am an idiot.

WTF is up with this? Jealousy just came up behind me and jumped me. This is completely and totally irrational. But I can't stop it.

Dh added someone to his friends list. She's 20 and she's cute.

Mind you, dh is the very last person in the world that I think would cheat. I don't know that he has it in him.

So why on earth am I struggling to keep the green-eyed monster subdued?

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

A song, a dilema, and some catching up (not necessarily in that order) all while I avoid folding laundry

First and foremost, I present a song. While at the gym yesterday a song came on that made me think of dh. I'm not a huge fan of pop music, but I'm not ashamed to admit when a little ditty gets stuck in my head. I had long since forgotten about this song, but when it came on, I knew I'd need to post it on the blog. Yes, I am posting a Michelle Branch song on my blog. Let the flaming begin.


Turn it inside out so I can see
The part of you that's drifting over me
And when I wake you're, you're never there
But when I sleep you're, you're everywhere
You're everywhere

Just tell me how I got this far
Just tell me why you're here and who you are
'Cause every time I look
You're never there
And every time I sleep
You're always there

'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone
I'm not alone

I recognize the way you make me feel
It's hard to think that
You might not be real
I sense it now, the water's getting deep
I try to wash the pain away from me
Away from me

'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone
I'm not alone

I am not alone

And when I touch your hand
It's then I understand
The beauty that's within
It's now that we begin
You always light my way
I hope there never comes a day
No matter where I go
I always feel you so

'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I catch my breath
It's you I breathe
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone

You're in everyone I see
So tell me
Do you see me?

As for the update, dh e-mailed and called yesterday. It was good.

In the moments where I really let myself sit down, take a break, and reach out and touch the lonliness, I realize just how much I miss him.

The dilema is awful news I got from someone I love. She opened up and told me about things that happened in the the past. It absolutely crushed me, so I don't know how it didn't do the same to her. I've been thinking about her and about things related to her pain all night and all day. I couldn't sleep last night for a number of reasons (writing to her, the girls kept waking up, then the boy woke up repeatedly, then Girl1 woke up AGAIN) and today was rather trying too. The reality of it all just bounces around in my head whenever I quiet down.

The up side is that now she has someone to talk to about it. I'm the first adult she has told and I have every intention of being there for her any way I can.

It was also a big smack in the face that forced me to remember how amazing dh is. I wrote to her about a bad situation I was headed towards before dh and I started dating. It's frightening to think about where I would be if he hadn't jumped into my life when he did. He cared enough to reach out when he saw things that concerned him. And that caring very well may have saved my life. It certainly saved my sanity and my soul. I often let the reality of it escape me, but last night, I was reminded just how lucky and blessed I really am.

It also reminded me of the huge responsibility we all have. For now, I'm not going to worry as much about saving the world. I'll focus on loving those around me instead. I think if we all did that, we really would save the world.

Your customized break up song

I heard this on the radio the other day. It cracked me up. So I must share.

You add a name (it has to be on the list, though) and then you pick two reasons to break up (from a drop-down menu).

I've heard cheap, ugly, and fat and they all had me gasping for breath because I was laughing so hard.

This is hysterical.

Da break up song