I know it's been oh-so-quiet around here. I haven't stopped thinking, and I haven't stopped writing. I'm just feeling a little shy and awkward with my words right now. So many things are going on, and I will update soon. I promise.
I am feeling rather pathetic right now. I had some sort of epiphany this morning while drinking my coffee--it was cold, and it was cold because I haven't had time to drink one cup of coffee straight through during the morning because of my kids. Realizing this, I poured out my cold coffee, poured a fresh hot cup, and went to the only place where a girl can get a few minutes alone to drink it.
Yes, I drank my coffee while sitting on the toilet this morning.
Chris had his surgery yesterday, and everything went a-okay.
Chris is okay. He is one-handedly typing a letter to his mother.
The kids are okay. Molly is playing in her room listening to her Christmas CD. Logan is slumbering peacefully with his darling little bottom up in the air.
As for me, I'm okay. I'm brewing a pot of coffee and I'm about to get some work done. Life is good, and there is not much more I could ask or wish for. I need to start believing in our family's mantra more: Things always work out for us. It may be at the very last possible second, but it's oh-so-true.
My lovely Internet friend, Dep, who I met on Flickr (her photos are AMAZING by the way--do look), is feeling a bit blue because of her looks and body and all that mommy jazz, and this is my response to her response to herself.
I thought I'd share because it's been my mantra of sorts every time I stand naked in front of the mirror nitpicking every part of my new mommy-body:
oh dep. I so know what you mean and how you feel. i am only 26, and had two children in 3 years, and i am already so saggy and flabby and have wrinkles around my eyes and i get so jealous of other 26-year-olds who have wonderful perky tittys and flat smooth tummys....but when i look at my children and realize how positively wonderful and amazing they are, i think:
"My god, woman, who gives a damn about how your body looks... ?? Because just LOOK at WHAT it DID: My body created TWO amazing little humans!!"
And then I feel better..............until the next tight-bodied young something walks by!
I want to know how does a kid manage to spit up* on every piece of my clothing--pajama pants (behind the knee), long sleeve tee under a short sleeve one (on one arm and down the front), AND on BOTH socks? I have no clue.
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*PS I should add that Logan is OK! He is just a wee bit lactose intolerant and spit-up is common for him; I just don't understand how he manages to get it all over every item of my clothing!
So days 23 and 24 of NaNoWriMo have passed and here I am on day 25 when I've given up my word counter. I am going to stop checking how many words I have, and just type and type and pour and type some more (so my word count updater will stay quite stagnant for those of you who are curious about where I am). I know I've been rather silent about my novel/memoir, but that's because a lot of it--quite frankly--sucks and I'm embarrassed by it, but other portions of it are so intimate and scary that I feel scared to share it in such an open forum. Scared of who will see it and read it and judge me. There is anonymity in the Web, but there is an openness about, too (as all bloggers know), and there are people who may be reading this (this particular person is an avid Googler), and so I've been silent here, but not there.
But as this last week of NaNo closes out, I'm not sure I will even make it to my original goal, but I don't really mind because I'm going to keep on writing until what I've started is done. And as for this blog, I'm gunna keep going with it, too, because I've been liking talking to myself and getting my thoughts out even if they are rambling and nonsensicle at times.
When I set out this month to do NaNoWriMo, my only goal was to reach 30,000 words. That, and to recapture some of my so forgotten memories. While I am still quite a ways away from reaching 30,000 words, I did accomplish my second task of recapturing memories. When Chris and I went to John K. King Books a while back, a lone tattered copy of one of the Wizard of OZ books made me weep right there among the dusty shelves as it jostled a lodged memory from the back of my head--as a child I owned the entire set. In my memories it was a complete set of some 40+ first editions given to me by my Russian grandmother (on my biological father's side)--I'm not sure if there were really first editions, but I was taken back to when I held those books in my four-year-old hands in awe of the sketches held inside its covers. But inside the pages there were lands that I could be transported off to while my mother read to me until I fell asleep or whenever I wanted when the yelling started and the doors began to slam.
I don't know what ever came of those books--we left rather abruptly from our home on Oliver Street in Hamtramck to live in random motel rooms with a man I barely knew who I would come to know as Daddy. And not only did we (my mother and I) leave without my beloved books, we also left without shoes on our feet--which is an entirely different story in itself (the one I am writing for NaNo), but I say all this because when I look back to that time in my life those books mean the most to me. Somehow in those pages I feel connected back to that street I grew up on.. to the grandmother I barely knew, and the father I never met.
And so here I am holding two treasured copies--recreating memories if you will--and I swear by whomever or whatever deity that I am going to pass them onto my own daughter who will never be forced to leave all she ever had or knew behind.
Molly went to sleep without a Pull-Up on and did not pee the bed. And Logan went to bed at 4:30 pm, woke up at 11:30, went straight back to bed and woke up at 6:45 am. What the f*ck is going on? Did I wake up in some kind of Bizarro world?
Send in the envelope with the bill, but forget the check, wait for the company to call to say there was no check and then say, "Whoops! I'll get it in the mail today!" just to stall a few days while waiting for the paycheck in the mail.
Knowing that payday is still three days away, write a "bad" check for $30 over, deposit $20 dollars to cover the "bad" check written two days ago that is clearing today so that it doesn't end up "bad," and still have $10 in hand and when the paycheck is deposited on Friday, the second check won't be "bad" either.
Take out a payday loan to pay off another payday loan, and then two weeks later take out another payday loan to cover the second payday loan that covered the first payday loan while waiting for a student refund check to come in the mail. When refund check finally arrives, sigh with relief.
You know you've moved up in the world when you stop writing in 10-cent spiral notebooks while swigging on a 2-for-$5 bottles of Boone's Farm listening to bootlegged cassette tapes and start typing on a $550 notebook computer while sipping on a glass of $7.99 [yellow tail] wine listening to your CD collection.
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.
Why is it when you finally get one kid to sleep and you sneak off to take a shower in peace that the other one, the one who was napping soundly--snoring even--instinctively gets up, and then when that one is finally napping again, the first one decides to get up two minutes after?
And then the next thing you know it's 3:47 in the afternoon when the hubby finally gets back from the Doctor's and he looks at you like you are some sort of slob because you are still in pajamas, and now that you FINALLY have the opportunity to bathe, it seems like such a waste of time, but you do it anyways just for the 15-minute break and to feel like a human for a few hours afterwards.
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