"just a ham operator, like yourself."
housekeeping
My monetary accumulation for our attendance at the Life Is Good Unschooling Conference is trudging along, to my utter delight.
I have saved, basically stuffed in an electronic mattress so I don’t use it for silly things like food and socks, about $238 (of the $650 that will get us there, which does not include food, gas, & fun money). This saved sum includes a wee bit of under-the-table work I’ve done as well as a handful of lovely donations from readers.
I sincerely thank everyone who has helped, and all who read, email, IM, tweet, and support in various ways.
It is so rare I get any IRL contact with other Unschoolers, and it means a great deal to me to consider we may get this chance.
I am hopeful of somehow earning $650 – separate from my husband’s paycheck. I have a few options on this account. For one, I have my little homesewn affair, which is not much of a money-maker due to various and sundry reasons, mostly including a complete lack of advertising budget or promotional considerations, besides the occasional tweet. I also lack kiddo models and let me tell you, that makes a difference. Early this summer, at the Fiber Festival? I put a little homemade dress (the one at left) on a little friend and I shit thee not, she’d been running around about five minutes before a woman came dragging her by the arm and demanding to buy the frock. Well, not really. But kinda.
So tomorrow I’m going start up up a jacket conception for a tot, then find a baby to stuff into said jacket so I can take a picture.
Welp. In addition to my little wee dream of making the conference, we are a bit squeezed with a few upcoming financial considerations that likely need some attention. First, it is a near done deal we will be moving to a new home in Hoquiam (within about a month), which comes with a few expenses (and deposits, if they get returned at all, are not always returned at a convenient time). After a decade of rough use on our beds, we are in need of three new mattresses. Our couch and two armchairs are sinking into further disrepair. My car has a bad alternator (which at least, I can buy and replace with a friend’s help), and both vehicles likely need an expensive brake job (that, I don’t have the capability to do myself).
And then, or course, there is always that little special item of extravagance one wants for herself. Well, kinda for me, not just for me. I have been watching a friend’s baby (free gratis) and I did a little research and my dream-boat idea would be to get ahold of a Boba 2G so I can run around like usual while caring for an extra (occasionally separation-anxiety-laden) tot.
So that’s our scene in a nutshell. I write it out for my own sake as well as readers who may or may not be interested. I am, of course, quite serene about all of this. I have received such incredible support and wonderful friendship and care from so many people. I also live a life, to the best of my ability, of planning the event but not the outcome, which leaves very little room for sour grapes, worries, envies, et cetera. For this I am very grateful.
From yesterday: skating at the Harborena, watching a daddy lift his tot – to her delight. Also, bottom picture, Unimpressed Woman in Foreground is Unimpressed.
You, Monster
This evening I headed out in the snow for an Emergency Baby acquisition. Well… the Emergency wasn’t that I needed a baby exactly, but it sure felt that way by the time I had him strapped in, in the warm car! On my way home I slid about in the snow a bit and listened to Ralph’s new upcoming EP, which is shaping up slowly, but lovely.
At home we fed the baby lots and lots of food and I carried him and got to give him a bath which was kind of excellent. Other kids ran in and out from the snow, endlessly finding it fun even though I found it dismayingly soggy, including hidden slushy puddles a foot deep that challenged the limits of my waterproof boots.
Today Idzie posted a guest post of mine. Please don’t click over unless you want to read about me bitching, just a little bit, promise, but still.
I’m tired today; time to retire a bit early and take some me-time.
Read Morethen I got to listen to a lot, a LOT, of Lowellian cursing
By the time I’d walked a mile in an absolutely wet, windy, and rainy blizzard through piles and piles of snow, and waited and waited and waited for a bus, and given up after making phone calls and texting and other plans, while huddling wet and cold against the icy brick contemplating a plan, and realized I’d be unable to make my meeting, and finally gave up and headed home,
I admit, by then I felt a few tears rise in my throat. I mean after all the whole business was about two hours exposure without relief (yes, in light of certain anniversaries today, I know I am whinging, big time). And what was funny is to think as I first set off through the snow, I was wondering if maybe taking a few hours out of my day to make one meeting where a solid half the clients are nodding out from Suboxone, and I thought maybe I’m a fool, maybe I’m wasting my time. Well it seems the Universe was beating me into humility because after all that I didn’t even make it. Well, the Universe isn’t so unkind, I guess – it was my choice, I could either re-learn humility or just be pissed and cramped. I elected the former.
But at the beginning of the “adventure” I had a nice walk with Ralph. Our gonads were frozen solid by the time we got to the barren comfort of overhead shelter:
(Given GH Transit wait times the “No Loitering” sign seems a bit… ironic.)
(Actually, as previously discussed, I’m unsure what “irony” really is. Yes, I’ve looked it up.)
Ralph ran across the way to grab me a coffee; he went by himself in case the bus came by and I missed my opportunity. This was back when I had a backup plan of sipping the coffee and holding it close for warmth, while I waited. Back before he’d left and I’d gone on to wait an hour before a bus came, a bus that wouldn’t have gone near my destination, meaning there would be no time for me to make my appointment, and I had to give it all up. Yes, back when I was so naive. I had a lot of growing up to do.
I was bundled up well but the rain had soaked my jeans and that was my downfall. Wet jeans. Holy Shit.
So I eventually went home and the exercise, plus the high of dodging scary drivers sliding on ice, worked off my aforementioned upset.
And then after I got home it took a long, long time to warm up. I watched Reel Injun while waiting to feel my face again.
Then I watched The Fighter (although I’d already seen it a year ago) while finishing up the details on the last homesewn item for the upcoming magazine spread.
Several kids came and went, wet and getting fed and getting re-dressed in dry clothes. We washed and dried and hung things up. Ralph made a lovely dinner of turkey sliders on homemade buns, yellow tomato and avocado dressing with lemon, carrot sticks, and potato chips, and we fed whatever children ran through the house.
Then we set up all the outdoor stuff to dry in time for more snow adventures tomorrow.
follows like a shadow that never leaves
My son sustained a rather large, nasty-looking splinter at a playdate this AM, out in the country (as we say). He was a happy little camper all day but in the evening the small injury was troubling him. He wanted the problem gone but he wasn’t too trusting of any adult wielding a pair of tweezers. Finally I got him to give me his foot, post-bath and after most of our friends had left for the evening. I swiftly and surely placed the grasping implement on the end of the splinter and firmly but smoothly pulled. Nels shouted in alarm (not pain; later he told me it hurt “only a little”) and sat up and grasped his foot; in disbelieving shock and total relief he cried out loudly, “Mama I’m so proud of you! You SAVED my LIFE! I love you SO MUCH!” His cries were astonishing, but I put some of it down to less sleep last night than usual.
Today was beautiful. Friends helped me out. My children were wonderful to spend time with. Whatever difficulties I’d had the last few days – not all of which I diagnosed – dissipated, and I could feel the moment things finally broke free. It was a tremendous relief. A little after this episode I knew I owed my husband an apology and made good on that. I had bodywork done by an occupational therapist who told me I need to “give myself a break”. You know what, I hear that a lot. I am seriously starting to consider how to do that because so far I haven’t let go completely.
Two friends joined Nels and I for lunch out at Clarks in Artic; I hadn’t been there since age eighteen. I ate a cheeseburger and fries, fried zucchini, hot coffee, and a homemade chocolate ice cream cone. I ate with much relish. My appetite has been returning. It’s rather amazing. Holy cow. I never realized how stunted my appetite for food had been. It’s like tasting all over again.
I bottle-fed a baby today. I realized it was the first time I’d ever bottle-fed. You know what, it isn’t as easy as all that, I mean this was a little baby who had a positional preference and there wasn’t much formula in the bottle but I knew air-bubbles might make her uncomfortable. I could have whipped my breast out and done it just like years before, but everyone would have been dismayed by that, with the possible exception of myself, getting to re-live such a wonderful time. When I realized I’d never bottle-fed I felt this deep honor and enjoyed the simplicity and said a little prayer. It felt wonderful to hold a baby in my arms. Very natural. But I gave her back to her mother with no qualms.
We had a few friends as well as my mother over tonight and we ate a lovely dinner Ralph made.
J. posted a pic of the scarf I made her for Christmas. That made me smile.
Tonight I am tired but grateful to know I can sleep tomorrow morning. I hope I feel well-rested when I wake, but I am committed to being patient if possible:
One never knows what the day will bring.
Read Morethe staff of Life
The last couple days I’ve been really struggling. Old Behavior, it’s called. I’ve felt irritation at people several times during the day, which I can truthfully say is a very rare event these days. I’ve felt easily overhwhelmed by the kids’ behaviors, and have responded rather short-tempered. Today I spoke sharply to my daughter as I was angry with something she had or hadn’t done. Nels immediately rebuked me: “Mama, that’s not okay. You hurt her feelings. Imagined getting slapped, hard. That’s probably how that felt.”
The kids are amazing. Talk about moving targets. I used to behave a lot worse than than just taking a “tone” with them. You know, I’m glad they know a violation and say so. I am seriously so fucking glad. Somehow even in a decade of my mistakes I didn’t hammer into them to shove their feelings down deep. They feel absolutely fine speaking up.
I didn’t learn how to speak up until I was thirty-four.
It’s still not easy.
By the way, I’ve been thinking of writing a piece for one of the mags I enjoy working with. It was going to be, Practices I’ve Learned in Parenting (but with a Sleek! Hip! Sexy! Title), or something. You know. The things I’ve found helpful and consistently true. Can I write it without sounding condescending, or as if I’ve Figured It All Out (because: I haven’t)?
Anyway, today it occurred to me the care of and investment in children are wonderful exercises for smashing the illusion of Control and the resultant suffering from trying to have Control. Either that, or you can avoid this opportunity and try to control the children, and the process of living together. You will get very ill (and hurt the kids besides). In fact, just last night I heard of a friend who made themselves very, very sick trying to do this. The Control thing. Anyway, this morning as soon as Nels was up, before my coffee, he was making bread. Very ambitiously so, and he had the whole business just about right, including knowing the relevant ingredients, which is interesting because we’ve never directly taught him. But today he was 100 PERCENT INTO MAKING BREAD ZOMG!!1!
We were pressed for time, so I asked him to wait. I made them pancakes (with his very avid assistance) and cut up some fruit for breakfast so we could make our appointment on time. As soon as Nels was back home, many playdates later and in the evening, he was at it again. BREAD. By this time I was trying to finish a sewing project but I gave him the guidance he asked for, hollering measurement estimations toward the kitchen, which he followed perfectly well. The dough I sampled before we put it up for its first rise was tender, smooth, and delicious.
As I type the dough is on its final rise, resting on parchment paper. After one or two more bread-making events he’ll be quite competent.
I didn’t learn how to make bread until I was about thirty-two.
But anyway, yeah. Living with children the way we do, I don’t get to decide when they want to learn something (very different than school… which is always telling kids when to learn something and how). It’s not only about not trying to have Control; it’s an exercise in Setting Aside. Someone else needs my help and what I want to do with my life at that second isn’t so important after all.
If I’d remember this consistently, I’d consistently be the parent I always admired.
Read MoreMade me pine / For the lamplight / Where you lie
Sometimes I wonder if those reading here, this last year’s open self-identification as a recovered alcoholic, guess at the nature of my previous drinking. Like how much secret guzzling did I do, quantaties. I’m going to get to that in a minute but first I wanted to say some things about my day.
Today I got myself up early after a very poor sleep in order to make the commitments I said I would.
Today I cared for my son and daughter by putting away laundry and getting breakfast ready and pareparing the house for a calm and nurturing environment, and by driving my son the special place he wanted to go.
Today I texted a sick friend and offered to bring her something if she needed it.
Today I drove in the car and smoked a cigarette and sang along quite joyfully and felt so happy to have a car and gas money.
Today I made time to meet with and talk to another friend about something that was troubling her, because I care and I hoped she trusted me enough to talk, and I hope she didn’t later regret that in any way.
Today I asked after a man’s health and heard he’d been having a hard time with a rather scary event. I listened and we talked a while about his physical ailments and his perceived dangers of semi-longterm prescribed narcotic medication.
Today on two separate occasions I gave a man a cigarette. In one case, the fellow needed one. In the second case, I’d remembered the young man likes the kind I smoke. Directly after this transaction he asked for a hug and I gave him one, and today it was a loving and completely comfortable and genuine hug, because today that’s what I really truly deeply have to offer.
Today I talked with a practitioner who felt compelled to come out to me, although she told me she hadn’t yet done publicly or to her employer.
Today I took a phone call and laid aside plans to listen to and discuss someone with a long-standing serious health issue that had recently come to a head.
Today I asked my mother about her day and took a few minutes to give her attention.
Today when I came across my husband during our various activities, I asked him, “How are you?” or “How was work?” and I genuinely wanted to hear, and I listened as best I could.
Today I assisted another woman in Recovery in the way I understood that woman wanted my help.
Today I answered an email from across the country about a parenting/family issue that was giving the author some grief.
Today I coped with my physical pain by expressing gratitude for those who help me (the practitioners, family, and friends) and accepting that Ouch, It Hurts.
Today instead of the sewing I’d longed to do, I recognized my pain level and instead watched an old B-movie while I rested.
Today I apologized to a friend for a careless mistake I’d made.
Today I treated my children well.
I do not write these items out to try to look good for others. I write them because they are directly related to the quality and experience of my sobriety. To respond to my inferences earlier, I used to drink, mostly starting around dinner dime, for medicinal effect. If you ever came over you’d see how I drank, I didn’t get too sloppy. Maybe I even looked “normal”. I certainly had many people express surprise when I came out as alcoholic and needing help.
But man, it had nothing to do with how many glasses of wine or how many fingers of Jack. See the days I worked hardest to be a “good” mom (warning on that link, ranty), or deal with the latest setback, or my anger at my husband. The days I tried to do things to make my friends happy. You know, I had less quality friends then and fewer friends, than I do now. But anyway back then I had to wonder about how those friends felt about me. I felt I should “fix” them if they were in trouble. I felt I had to perform as a “good friend” just like my “good mom” stuff. If I made a mistake I felt humiliated, too much show to make a good amends. The friends who behaved toward me in ways that hurt, I ended up avoiding them, effectually cutting them out of my life.
None of that is how I live today. The difference may not be something that loud and evident but is experienced so deeply it is truly a revelation to write.
I don’t give the list of the things I did today to brag. Or to try that Sisyphean effort of being “good”. It’s to remind myself of the woman I am today, of what my actions evidence. That’s not who I used to be.
Read MoreNow I take everything as a good sign, because I’m in love / I take everything as a sign, from God
OK, this may seem like a nonsequiter, but please go directly and read the most awesome About blog page I’ve ever seen. I just happened on it three minutes ago. I am ROTFLMAO, it is just so so wonderful. No, I did not know my daughter had a dream to be a blogger like me.
***
So. Personally? Watching someone go through heroin withdrawal feels really, really horrible. But it’s not nearly as bad, I may positively state, as going through heroin withdrawal. There’s not much I can do in this case except speak kindly to this person and listen to this person thrash and whimper and sob. So that’s what I do. Then I come home and make an incense offering and dedicate a prayer to this person.
Today was a lovely Sunday.
Nels slept in and finally woke only the second time his BFF came to our door (to hear the BFF’s parents describe it, weekend mornings the boy is scratching at the door like a mad dog wanting to come over). He and this little guy run around the neighborhood, getting fed at our house and getting up to I’m not sure what at the other house. I hear them laughing and see them coming down the sunny walk together, absolutely on top of the world.
Besides some family time and two meetings, I performed housework and had coffee with Ralph. I tried to make an orange candle and failed (it’s still sitting on my counter all soggy and misshappen). Ralph, Phoenix and I went to Tully’s where I was pleased to see they’d finally jumped on the Awesomesauce of Salted Carmel coffee drinks.
Phoenix educated us on Lyme Disease.
We visited the Gallery and their new show – “ReUse • ReCycle • ReArt”. It was even almost warm for half a second. The sun was out and that felt good.
I spent much of today sewing (yay!), but cannot post pictures (boo!) as they are slated for publication in a real magazine (yay!). Good news: I have my new snap press which I get to play with, and I am slowly marching my way through my magazine requirements. P.S. when it comes to stitchery WANT FOUR YARDS kthx. What a lovely fabric; and the album referenced (one I was raised on) was exactly what first came to mind.
***
Nels had taken to calling me Honeycomb. As in, “I love you, my honeycomb” [*kiss*]. Several times a day. He comes up to me and puts rings on my finger. Those little clippy ones for hanging curtains.
It was a beautiful day.
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