Ok, Ok, Let's Do It

And THAT is a visual of our Comic Con '08 Experience!

I Am

What?

Bored, for one. How sad is that, that I have so many things to do, and here I am, bored.

Tired, for another. But I think my tiredness is a result of my being bored.

Hungry. Again, refer to bored'ness.

I think I'll go read a book.

Groovy

Alright... so my post yesterday was more of a vent than anything, and I didn't even get to talk about that which excites me... and that is the totally cute new clothes I bought yesterday!!

I admit that I spent about 25 more dollars than I had intended... but it was worth it!

I don't often shop for myself. For one, we have several children and a household that needs constant attention. Two, with skyrocketing gas prices, it eats into our budget more than I would like. Three, the Infamous Exes are not paying a dime in support, either of them (although we're in the process of remedying that). And four, well... I have a bad book habit. I mean, it's sick. Or it would be, if it were anything OTHER than books.

So, I don't usually go out and buy myself new clothes, which would explain the SAD state of my wardrobe. I mean, I have some very adorable shoes... and no clothes to wear them with.

Yesterday I decided that whilst out and about running my many and varied errands, I was going to add a stop at Mervyn's for a pair of new capris, and possibly a tank top or two. Here in So Cal, you can wear capris until late October, even into November, since the weather is so lovely. The nights get chilly but the days are still really warm.

Anyway, amidst the stop at the grocery store, car wash, and Walmart, I made a stop at the clothing store. The older two girls were thrilled and requested permission to head to the "girl's section" to browse. They love to shop for clothes, and with school starting up in a month and a few days, they wanted to get an idea of what they wanted.

I granted them permission to browse on their own, trusting them to 1) not go with a stranger (they're both well trained in that regard) and 2) to behave like children with decent home-training. I kept the younger two with me.

I found a few cute tops right away, and the capris in two different colors that I liked, as well as white, but I don't DO white pants or skirts very well. And then I found the sundresses, and made a few selections to try on.

I took Cappa and Delta with me to the dressing room, after finding Alpha and Beta and letting them know where I would be if they needed me. I tried on the tank tops and the capris. I liked two of the tank tops and at ten bucks each, decided to get those. Then I tried on the capris. I decided on a pair of chocolate brown ones that looked pretty good on me. I also have a gorgeous pinkish tank at home that would look really good with it. And I have a pair of Mudd shoes that would match perfectly. So it was a no-brainer selection for me :)

And then I tried on the sundresses.

Oh boy.

See, I LOVE sundresses, but have a hard time finding ones that are flattering to my figure. I am overweight, and I carry all of my extra weight in my belly and butt. More so in my belly. Thus, when I wear dresses, I often look about six months pregnant. It's not something that I'm embarrassed about or anything, and I quite like the solid, soft round of my figure, but I still want to look good in what I wear. And honestly? I really don't like it when people point at my belly, or in one memorable time, PAT my belly, and ask me "when are you due?". Frankly, I find that unless a woman is OBVIOUSLY about to give birth right there, asking someone that question is presumptuous and rude. I mean, I get it, I'm fat. For the most part I am ok with that. But I really don't like the whole awkward "Um, due?" on my part, when I pretend I have no idea what they're talking about, and they get all flustered and don't know what to say. Or I'll say, "No, not pregnant. Had my baby seven years ago," and smile., and they get all flustered, not knowing what to say. Or if I'm feeling REALLY snarky, I'll say, "I'm not pregnant. I'm fat." and give them a flat, how-dare-you stare, and they get all flustered, not knowing what to say. Which is rude of me, I know. But they were rude first.

Anyway, buying sundresses is always an adventure. Which is why I have so few of them.

So I tried on the first one, a brown and cream with a floral print, high waisted, spaghetti straps and a tie in the back. SO cute... but really makes me look pregnant. So I nix that one. Then I try on a white one with large black printed flowers (I know I said I don't do white skirts, but this one had a lot of black on it, so it balanced out). This one is really comfortable, but huge on me, and that was the smallest size. It looked more like a muumuu than a sundress and I really don't do muumuus... yet. Nixed. And then I try on a strapless blue and white one, tiny floral print, with turquoise accents. SO not my regular style, as I tend more towards reds and browns and tans. But... this one... looked pretty good. Pretty good, indeed. A bit snug 'round the middle, but I'd accidentally grabbed a size smaller than my regular, and I was thinking that if I got the next size up, it would actually look... lovely. 

I get dressed in my regular clothes and go about putting the declined items back where I found them, and finding the dress in the size I want. I gather my two wayward  duckies, and tell them that I need to try on just one more thing, but that is put on hold since all of them have to "go potty".

Natch.

So we head off to find the restroom, and I am seriously chomping at the bit to get back to the dressing room and try on the dress and see if it will do. We finally, after an eternity of waiting, get done with the bathroom and I head back to the dressing room. I get in there, after soliciting solemn promises of good behavior from all four of them, and get the dress on. And I like it. I really like it.

Of course my tummy pooches out more so than I think is acceptable, but you know what? That's what my girdle-waist-slimmer-thingy is for. Not the most comfortable of contraptions but it does what it was made to do well enough. And I know that under my dress, because I'm already thinking of it as "my dress", it'll do it's job, and I will look pretty damn good. The color of the dress compliments my fair skin and blue eyes. Sorry if that sounds boastful, but is it still bragging if it's true? haha :-D

So I bought it.

Now all I need is a pair of shoes to go with it. I have a nice low heel that actually compliments the dress well enough, but they're not practical for wearing all day, and I plan on wearing that dress when we go the Comic Con (which was the purpose of said shopping trip), and no, not gonna kill my feet in the name of fashion! Not when there is that much walking involved. I think I'm going to get a new pair of sandals...

But that's a whole other shopping trip in itself... and another blog in the making :)

(When I actually wear the dress, I'll update with a pic.)

 

Just, Tired

I am SO TIRED of my Extreme Teen.

I am SO TIRED of having the same. Conversation. Every. Single. Bloody. Day!

I am SO TIRED of feeling like I can't wait for him to hurry and turn eighteen already... 1 year, 8 months, and 19 days.

I am SO TIRED of being mad. All the time, mad. At his behavior. At him.

I am SO TIRED of him.

I am just so very, very, very tired. Period.

And I know that me exploding does no good. I know that me freaking out on him doesn't help. I know it doesn't... but I do it anyway.

It's just that... when he does something... when he plays it like he does... it just BURNS ME UP (picture orange flames around the red).

And I go off. Just, off. Like that. I don't start out that way. But that's how we wind up.

I just wish he would STOP already. I wish he would knock it off.  He is driving all of us away. He is pushing his family away, and when he turns eighteen, no one is going to want anything to do with him. We can't. We won't.

He will be adrift and have cut himself off from the rest of us, and that's just sad. And frankly, I don't think that he really cares. I don't know that he ever really will.

I don't know what to do anymore.

 

Sunday... I Think It's Sunday... Is It?

 

*WHEW* What a busy day!!

Time to relax... hold that thought. Let me pour a glass of wine... be right back.

Well. Never mind.

I have the wine, and a glass... but no cork screw. A lovely white wine, chilled, just waiting for me to open and enjoy... and I can't. I have been thwarted.

Bah. Figures.

Oh, well. I suppose I could dash down to the store and get a new cork screw... but really? I'm tired. It's been a busy day, and I really don't feel like "dashing" anywhere at the moment. I guess my lovely chilled Pinot Grigio will just have to wait for another day...

So. This morning I woke up and got dressed. Had to make a trip to the laundromat. The clothes situation was rather desperate. I usually do laundry twice a week, but I only did it once last week, and that was seven days ago. There was a mound of laundry, a veritable mountain of clothes, that really needed to be washed. And that chore is mine, so I went and did it.

I called Shanna while I was folding said clothes (after they had been washed and dried, of course) and you know what? I left a whole dryer full of clothes behind. I kid you not. I carried what I thought was everything out to the car, and left. I didn't realize my error til much, much later.

But I'll get to that in a moment.

After I got home with (most of) our clothes, it was right back out again, this time to do the shopping. Alpha and Beta tagged along, on the hope that they would get a "treat". Sucker that I am, I bought them vanilla ice cream cones from McDonald's. What can I say? They're too cute, sometimes, to say no to! Aaaand the cones were only .59 cents each... so an easy request to grant, right?

We did the shopping at one store, then on to Trader Joe's, quite possibly my favorite food store ever, and got a few things that you can *only* get at Trader Joe's. Then it was onto the Farmer's Market, where I bought some nectarines, apples, and plums. Oh, and a bag of baby carrots.

Then it was home again, home again, jiggedy jig. Just in time to get lunch made. Woo.

It was then, after lunch, that it dawned upon me that HOLY CRAP I left a load of clothes at the laundromat!! I tore out of there like a bat out of hell, jumped in the car, and proceeded to hit EVERY SINGLE RED LIGHT between me and the laundromat. I am not kidding.

Well, my mad dash turned out to be for naught since my clothes were, several HOURS later, still where I had left them. In that same dryer. And guess what... they weren't totally dry, either.

Whatever!!

I was just glad that they hadn't been made off with by some clothes stealing bandit. I mean, I have some fly threads.

Haha

Anyway, I came home and decided to dye my hair.

It wasn't as impulsive as it sounds. Since I did, in fact, get it cut.. oooo you haven't seen it yet, have you? Check it out!

 

Cute, no?

Anyway, I had already decided that after I got it cut, I was going to dye it. So I did. Earlier this afternoon. It's very dark now... darker than it was, anyway :)

After THAT, The Man and I decided to take a little trip to the mall. Just to walk around a bit, check stuff out. So we did that. And we got Vanilla Bean Frappucinos (sp??) from Starbucks (mmm tasty). The Man also got a book, Bloodheir by Brian Ruckley. It's the second book in his Godless World series.

Then we came home, and dinner was made.

And now I am writing this. Sans wine, since I was thwarted and all.

 

This and That and Other

Typical Friday. Payday. Busy day. Busier now, it being summer vacation, and the children are out of school.

I picked up The Man for our bi-weekly lunch date. I had the younger two with me, Cappa and Delta. I let Alpha and Beta stay home and entertain themselves, with a solemn promise of good behavior from both of them. And I promised to bring them home some lunch.

Both promises kept, theirs in the form of good behavior and mine in the form of bean burrito meals from Rubio's (ever been there? If not, then next time you're in southern California, YOU GOTTA). While they ate, I made a phone call. I had an appointment to make :)

I am getting my hair cut tomorrow. Cut, and styled. I'm going to my favorite place to have this done, A Cut Above, in PB. Wonderful girl does my hair, and does a fantastic job. I didn't go to her last time (HUGE mistake) and although the last girl who cut did a decent job of it... I didn't like it. Not the cut, not the style. So I won't be making that mistake again... nope.

I may also get a pedi and full set, too. Make a day of it. I don't know... I don't know that I want to spend that much money. Not that I'm cheap, but things here are a tad on the tight side since, you know, Arial doesn't seem to feel the need to pay support for his three children... alas, that is a different issue for a different blog, no? However, my point is, money is a bit tight, and as much as I want to treat myself, I don't know that I should. So we'll see. I'll talk it over with The Man tonite... get his opinion.

Anyways, after I called made my appointment, the children and I had some errands to run. We headed off to the mall, to the Wal Mart there. I needed a new flat iron, since my old one is, like, OLD and really needed to be replaced. I'd been putting it off and putting it off and finally, since I decided to get my hair cut, I also decided that it was time, at long last, for my old flat iron to go. So I bought a new one.

I bought a few other things that needed to be purchased, not everything on my list, since I don't usually do my shopping until Sunday. I was complimented, twice, on my children, and how cute they are, and how well behaved. I love it when people take time to actually notice that my children are, in fact, well behaved and capable of being in public and NOT being obnoxious. There are so many parents out there who just let their children run wild, and never, ever check them, and then act surprised when they misbehave in a huge way in public. I love my duckies too much to let them act like that.

I mean, of course they have their moments. They're kids. What kid doesn't?  They're not perfect, and I wouldn't expect them to be, but I do have a certain level of behavior that I expect from them.

So, anyway, after we did the whole Wal Mart thing, we headed over to Barnes and Noble, where we wandered around, looking at... wait for it... books!! Haha We all have a love of books, and they really like to go hang out. I usually buy them something, but not today. All of them have stuff they're currently reading at home. If there's one thing not in short order around here, it's definitely books!

After we came home from our mall adventures, I had to go pick The Man up from work. We grabbed a few pizzas on the way home, from Round Table, and a 12 pack of rootbeer for the kids, wine for me, and a bottle of ginger ale for him. The wine is currently chilling in the fridge. I'll probably have a glass in a bit... or maybe not until the morrow (evening).

Then, after dinner, Alpha and Beta and I went for a long walk. It was so nice... the weather was just... right.

Alright. Beta just came out and asked me a question (she wanted to know the location of something; I don't know where said item is) and I couldn't give her an answer, and she burst into tears. Aaaaand that means, she's tired. Really tired. Time for bed!

So I will be off.

Soul Cleansing

If you're like me, and find a certain solace in words, then you'll understand, I think, about which I am writing about.

I find myself sitting in front of my computer a lot. Probably more than I should be. Definitely more than I should be. When I'm here, I'm not engaged with my children, I'm not cleaning, I'm not doing the things that I think that I should be doing.

Yet... there is something so... cleansing... about writing.

About tapping my fingers across a keyboard and making words that were, seconds ago, thoughts in my head, appear on the screen before me. I can say things. I can make it seem real, more solid, by setting my will to writing it out. I can read what I wrote and think about it, come back to it when I have to move on to the next thing.

I can vent in a way that verbalizing doesn't allow me to. Emote on my own time frame. Think about how I want to say it before saying it... getting it... just... so.

I like the way I can take my time. I don't like to be rushed.

I don't like to call it a blog, although that's what it is. I like to call it journaling. I think it's very apt. I like the way the word forms on my tongue, how, when I say it, it can go either way... from journaling to journey. I like the idea of laying down my life in text, of being able to trace backwards, my journey. I like that even though there is nothing neat about life, that life is all too often messy and unorganized and surprising, that it can't be culled or tamed... I like that I can put it into neat columns and rows. That I can spill forth the inner thoughts and tell about events that make no sense, give the context a pattern, syntax.

This makes me happy. Content.

And now, it's time for me to get up and go do some engaging.

 

Night Becomes Her

I am a former creature of the night.

I have adapted to functioning in the daylight hours, despite my reluctance to do so. My family's needs require that I be alert and well rested in order to adequately care for them and our household. They are all early to bed, early to rise... and I am not. I prefer to stay up long past the midnight hour, and sleep well into the morning. Alas, this is not feasible when you have four young children to care for and a husband that works early in the morning. I prefer to dance attendance upon them in the mornings, getting their breakfast ready, their lunches packed. I prefer to aid with hair dressing (haha, with the children, not The Man...he's quite capable of combing his own hair :)), making certain that their backpacks are packed and that they have what they need to get through the day. These things I do for love and care of them. These things are sometimes a burden but always worth the doing of. And thus, I go to sleep when they do, and rise when they do.

I did not concede to this easily. And I still have not completely given over to the Light Side... this is a temporary arrangement until I can return to my former habits of late nights and later days.

Even as a child, I far preferred to stay awake into the wee hours, reading, drawing, listening to music. As a teenager, I found the gentle night something to revel in, and was in my element when the skies turned dark and the sun vanished beyond the horizon. I would find myself infused with energy under the star-lit skies, more so than I did during the day. I felt alive, alert, eager. And as an adult, even a young mother with a new born, when sleep was at a premium, I found my happiest hours in the darkest part of the night. I would often remain awake long after my household found slumber, doing what I wanted without children and husband under foot. Did I pay for it during the day? Absolutely. I was tired and slow all day, but my schedule was largely my own, since none of my children, then, were in school yet. So I could drowse when my babies napped, clean when I had the energy, grocery shop when I felt like it... and my schedule was only hampered by the need for their naps and meal times.

The sunlight seems too bright, too harsh, painful to my eyes, damaging to my fair skin...

I far prefer the velvet comfort of the darkness, gently illuminated by moon and stars...

Ah, well. In most things, we must compromise. I view this as a temporary necessity. As my children grow, and become less dependant on me, I will be able to indulge my preference as I will.

Some night...

 

This Moment

Wow. A rarity around here.

I am alone.

Not completely alone, of course. The children are here, but they're in their beds. I mean, I'm alone insofar as the room is empty, and my husband is at work. He managed to get six hours of overtime tonite, and eight hours tomorrow. I miss him, but I'm glad for the alone time.

That has definitely been in short order around here these days.

Ah, I spoke too soon. My darling daughter Beta just came stumbling out, squinting from the light, her hair a tangle around her sleepy face. She's gone into the bathroom.

*sigh*

I need a little break.

No, I need a BIG break.

I love my family. I do. I just wish that I could... escape... sometimes. From all of them. Even The Man (although him, not for long).

I don't have it bad. Far from it! I have a good life, a good family. I mostly like my life. And I understand, totally, that by having children, and then marrying someone who also has children, that Alone Time is going to be at a premium. I get that. I also understand that marriage, if you want a nice, stable one, requires time and effort and work. It isn't easy. I want a lovely marriage, and I want to raise my children to be decent human beings, and in order to achieve that, I have to be here, put time into it, care for it, nurture it, and take care of it. Yes. Understood. Comprehended. I am not complaining about THAT.

It's just that sometimes... I feel like I'm slipping away. I spend so much energy in so many different things, that I feel like I truly lose myself in the mix. There are so many demands being put to me, all day, every day, from every quarter... that my own demands for myself... wait... and wait... until the waiting turns into no more.

Mayhaps, I am selfish.

Laundry

So. Who hasn't done this, at least once? Even my bonus son, Bryan, has done a load or two in his day. It's not a chore that you can really overlook, unless you have people to do it for you, of course. Alas, I do not. I do my own laundry... and that of six others.

I have been doing laundry since my mother taught me how when I was twelve. It was a very basic lesson; this is how you load a washer. This is how you pour the soap (and this is how much). This is how you turn it on, and this is the setting you want (always cold). And there you have it.

At the time, I couldn't believe how incredibly simple this process was. I was in awe at how a few minutes of your time meant clean clothes in roughly an hour. All that time, I had been under the impression that "doing the laundry" was some mysterious, complex process that only grown-ups understood. I reveled in my newfound wisdom, and lorded it over my younger brother that *I* knew how to do the laundry ~neener neener neener~ and now, the laundry was my favorite chore.

Yeah. To say my euphoria was short lived would be an understatement. I soon came to understand that doing the laundry was not NEARLY as cool as I had perceived it to be.... and that my brother was even more disgusting than I had thought. I had his gross underwear to prove it.

Of course, as I matured, so did my knowledge of "doing the laundry". No longer was it as simple as loading the washer, dumping in some soap, and setting it on cold. Nope. I learned (the hard way) that you actually have to separate colors. And not just colors, but the actual clothes themselves. That the instructions on the little tags really are meant to be followed. And that dry-clean only actually does mean DRY CLEAN ONLY.

I learned about bleach, and how to use it most effectively. I learned about dryer settings. About pre-washing and pre-soaking. About color safe detergents. About pre-treating. The virtues of fabric softeners versus dryer sheets. Powder detergent versus liquid. Scented and unscented. A plethora of information, all of it geared towards the very basic concept of cleaning one's clothing.

Laundry is a chore that's hard to feel indifferent about. You either love it, or you don't. It's something that, for all the advances technology grants us, requires a lot of time and effort. It's not a simple process. A lot goes into it.

Laundry is something that I usually quite enjoy. Not as much as I did when I had my own washer and dryer; these days, I must needs go to a laundromat. Still, it's become a chore that I quit disliking and came to really like.

I love "catering", if you will, to my clothes. I love the time and effort it takes to make my clothes, and my family's clothes, clean and looking good. I like the whole process, from sorting to folding. There's something almost Zen about it. It's a predictable routine.

When I load the washer, I like measuring the soap, the fabric softener. I like watching the cycle start, seeing that frothy spill of water against the glass. I like watching it spin, knowing that the clothes, being agitated in water and soap, are getting cleaned right before my eyes. For whatever reason, it pleases me on a very basic level. I even like dropping the quarters into the slot.

I even like folding. The feel of freshly laundered clothing, hot against my hands, while I make neat piles of everyone's clothes pleases me. I love how it smells. I love how soft and clean everything is. I like making squares out of T-shirts, pressing them flat, piling them one onto the other. I have a certain way that I fold everything, from towels to jeans to underwear. I like how quickly I get this done, from years and years of doing it. I even like showing my children how to do it, and laugh when they marvel at how fast Mom is.

I think my absolute favorite is clean sheets. Really, there's nothing like it. Ironically, I really don't like to fold sheets. Big and cumbersome, almost, they can be hard to manage. However, there's nothing like snapping them open over your bed, filling the room with that clean sheet scent, and letting them drift down and smoothing them into place. There's nothing like slipping in between them at night, soft and smelling good against your skin. Knowing that YOU did this, your hands brought forth this simple pleasure, your time and effort made this enjoyment possible.

And that's that. I did laundry today... can you tell?