Saturday, November 11

I am so tired, I could cry.

I feel so overwhelmed and so stupid today, and I am so tired I could cry. And earlier today, I did. Not just once but at least twice. It may even had been three times because I vaguely remember looking in the mirror noticing the owl eyes and black rivers down my checks and cleaning them away at least twice.

It's hard to explain what's wrong with me, but some days I just CAN'T FUNCTION, and today was like that.

It's like I'm in a cloud, and I'm waiting for the sky to clear up, the sun to break through, but it doesn't, and so I just float around bumping into everything, and when I bump into something (a responsibility, my children, my hubby), I get so dizzy and confused.

I can't answer questions.
I can't form a single coherent sentence.
I just stare with a blank, stupid look on my face.
My dyslexia and my ADD flares up all at once into one congealed mess.
I'm a basket case.

I think depression is settling in, again, and it scares me to death because I hate it. I simply HATE HATE HATE not feeling like myself because everything suffers for it--my writing, my job, my family, everything. I just want to sit down and cry. Maybe I will, that, or refill my prescription for Prozac.

Friday, November 10

He's finally starting to entertain himself.

So, Chris took off Logan's socks this morning so his feet could air out--for such tiny little baby feet, they really did stink. Me, being the lazy mom that I am, just left them off all day because I didn't feel like hunting through two laundry baskets and the [dirty] clothes hamper looking for two tiny itty-bitty socks that matched. This early afternoon I put him down for a nap (still without socks), and after a while I ended up going in there to check on him because the MOM ALARM went off--BEEP BEEP! Child who only naps for 20 minutes at a time has now been sleeping for 21 minutes!! (I exaggerate here, of course, he sleeps for about 30 minutes at a time now, and about 45 minutes had passed)--and so when I went in there and noticed his little legs in the air--he had his toes in his fingers clutches! He discovered his toes are playthings today and he must have entertained himself with them for at least 15 minutes without having to have me in his face.

I hereby declare from this day forward for the sake of Mommy and Daddy's sanity, all socks are banned.

NaNoWriMo: Day 10 / Oh, gawd, this is--like--so ME except I write in the closet!

A thank you to InkyGirl via NanNo.

Thursday, November 9

NaNoWriMo: Day 9

Today I went to the NaNoWriMo write-in here in town, and I must admit I didn't get a whole lot of writing in (just about 250 words), but I did get in a lot of conversation. It's refreshing meeting people who you can carry on an intelligent conversation with without it feeling strange. There are more things I could say, but quite frankly my caffeine buzz is wearing off and my brain is feeling quite muddled. Maybe I'll have something more important to say in the morning, but I am so glad I went.

Wednesday, November 8

It feels like bleeding ink.

I love the way I feel when I'm writing--really writing--like a piece of my soul is dipped in ink and splattered across the page.

Look, Ma! I voted!

I am ashamed to admit this, but yesterday was the first time I ever voted, but it was the first time I actually felt strong enough to vote for something that directly affected me and my family. Even though, in the past, I, like South Park's Stan, don't want to vote between a turd sandwich and a giant douche, but I've learned, in the words of Peta's Guru:

You have to get used to the fact that there's always going to be the choice between a 'douche' or a 'turd' in voting. But your choice in voting allows you to pick the lesser of two evils.

But luckily, this vote wasn't between douche and a turd, it was about health care, something I care a lot about, and the vote was clear cut and dry. In our county, we have a free health plan that Chris & I and thousands of others belong to--if we didn't have it, I wouldn't have been able to get the vital "female" care when an abnormal pap smear showed up two years ago, nor would I have been able to get treatment for my depression, nor would my husband been able to get his much needed echo cardiograms--we would have been, frankly, shit out of luck like the millions of others in this country who fall in that damned income bracket--too poor to afford health care, but making "too much" to qualify for Medicaid.But, thankfully, our health program called us and reminded us to vote for a millage that would allow 8,000 more people to join:

Countywide, Genesee County residents are looking at a 1 mill increase for 7 years to fund the Genesee Health Plan for uninsured low income residents. It would cost the average homeowner $50-to-$75 a year. The Genesee Health Plan gives the working poor access to doctors before they become seriously ill. The millage would generate just over $11 million a year and allow 8,000 more people to join the program. (ABC News)

I'm so thankful to the voters of our county who voted this millage through.

NaNoWriMo: Day 8


My goal is a total word count of 10,000. Wish me luck.

Tuesday, November 7

NaNoWriMo: Days 6 & 7

It's been an agonizing two days--type two sentences, get distracted, check work inbox, OH MY GOD! I HAVE SIX PAPERS TO ADVISE, try to put it out of my mind, type two more sentences, close out, advise.

There are things to love about my job and things to hate about my job. I love the fact that I can make decent money helping other writers write, but I hate my job because it doesn't leave ME much time to write.

But then, when I do have the time to write, I have such a hard time switching from my academic voice to a creative one that I just end up sitting there picking away at the skin of the onion and not really getting to the creative stuff underneath that can make you cry (of both pain and of laughter). So I just sit and poke away waiting for the tears to come.

Monday, November 6

Oh, Molly, what am I ever going to do with you?

I managed to get Logan down for a nap at 11:30, and Molly was so engaged with writing her name across a stack of scrap paper with a green dry erase marker that I snuck off to take a quick shower, because, quite frankly, I stunk.

I quickly showered, threw on a clean Old Navy tank with a pair of lounge pants and plopped back down in front of my laptop.

Molly wandered over and closely examined the front of my tank. She brushed the lettering, "What's that, Momma?"

"It's letters, Molly. It says, 'Old Navy.' See? O-L-D N-A-V-Y." She looked puzzled.
"No, Mamma," she said with authority, "They're boobies," then added, "I think," in her little 3-year-old voice.

Without skipping a beat, "Yes, Molly, they are boobies, and if you are anything like your Mommy, you will sprout your own in the third grade."

It's wisdom like this that almost makes me want to convert to Judaism.

“If one or two people tell you that you're an ass, you can ignore them. But if three or four people tell you you're an ass, you might think about putting on a saddle.”

- Yiddish saying

Sunday, November 5

NaNoWriMo: Day 5

The problem with writing is reading your thoughts after actually getting seven hours of sleep and drinking a large cup of coffee because you are awake enough to wonder who wrote that? Why did she share it? An what on earth was she thinking? Because you sure as hell have no clue.