Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Iron Man

Oh, Readers, what am I going to do? I got one result back from all those little vials of blood they took yesterday, and I am anemic. The doctor's words were that my iron stores were at "rock bottom." That sounds bad. I looked up anemia on, and I have all the symptoms except cold hands and feet, restless leg syndrome, and a desire to eat dirt. But all the others, the fatigue, the irritability (totally) the palor, the increased risk of infection, and all the other stuff are all there.
You know, I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I really would like to go back to bitching and moaning about what to make for dinner, and halloween costumes and stupid stuff like that, but even the thought of coming up with something to make for dinner, let alone, shopping for ingredients, and cooking them makes me just want to take to my bed. I don't know how I ever had the creativity and energy to make that wolf costume, but I want it back!!!! I thought my sloth could not get any slothier, but this is ridiculous, and I just don't want to whine about it any more. But whine I will: whine whine whine whine whine. There.
I feel bad for my kid and my man. They want the mom back. What if they want to trade me in? "so and so's mom is fun and doesn't take naps, neener neener neener."
So, the iron supplements are going to work, right? RIGHT??

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

How I've been Killing Time Lately

Hi all. I have been doing actual parenting things lately. Most days, the goal is just to get the kid through the day, fed, clean-ish, hugged, rested, etc. But I did things that felt like parenting. I took her to the doctor to get tested for strep on the advice of my doctor, and, though she has no symptoms and feels perfectly fine, she tested positive for strep and is now on antibiotics. Rob also tested positive for strep, so I have two typhoid-Maries, with no symptoms, ready to infect me at any moment. Bastards.
Then, I realized that this kid has been wearing the same underwear since preschool. I decided it must be time to get her a new batch of panties, so we scampered off to the mall in search of some days-of-the-week underpants, found them plus some others, and I shelled out fifty bucks for a dozen pair. I was a little blown away. I can't remember the last time I shelled out that amount for underpants, and I've been wearing the same ones since she was in preschool, too. We got them home, she tried them on, and they were too big. Do you know what this means? It means her little busheeks haven't grown at all in years. Unbelievable! I put them through the wash and now they kind of fit, which is a relief since she was on the verge of tears because she wanted to wear her new chonis. I don't blame her. Those Hanes Her Ways, size four, have gotten a little stale, and if you're going to hang upside down on the playground in a skirt, you had better have something interesting to look at, don't you think?
Yesterday, I checked for lice on the heads of Leila's classmates. We do this every so often, and the hope is that you will rummage through clean heads of hair with two plastic forks and find nothing suspicious. No critters in room A10, I'm glad to report. I had lice 20 years ago when I was a nanny. There was a big outbreak at the kid's school, and we all got it. I had long curly hair at the time, and my BFF sat up with me until midnight picking nits out of my hair. Now, that's love. There is the gross factor, but really, they're just a nuisance.
After lice check I went to the allergist. He looked in my throat and told me I have thrush which is a yeast infection in your throat. So disgusting. I hadn't noticed a thing until he told me, and now all I feel is weirdness in the back of my throat. I have to dissolve these chalky tablets in my mouth five times a day for 6 days to get rid of it. Luckily, they don't taste like anything. This has nothing to do with parenting, but I thought it was worth mentioning.
When I was back home, Leila's teacher called to tell me that the straps on her overalls had fallen into the toilet and she needed a clean pair of pants. This cracked me up, and I ran some over to her. It was fun to see her in the middle of the day, and she was not at all embarrassed or in any other way perturbed that she was walking around with wet pee-water pants.
The last parenting thing was something that I had planned to do, but didn't get around to. Leila's friend lent her a DVD called Stranger Safety that I want us to watch together. Seems like a responsible, parenty thing to do.
Today, she's having her friend, C, over, and they will probably laugh their butts off. Maybe that's why Leila's old underpants still fit. I went to the lab this morning and had about a dozen little vials filled with my precious blood. I'm also going to have to do a stress echo, where they'll hook me up to a bunch of stuff and make me exercise! It's going to be so embarrassing. I am in the worst shape of my life, and now all the strangers at the lab who don't care will know it. I also cleaned my cats ears with a q tip. He didn't care for it, but it needed to be done.
I have a bunch of things to do, like laundry and dishes and phone calls, but netflix sent me Coalminer's Daughter, and all I want to do is cuddle up on the couch with some raw cookie dough and watch it. This reminds me: the hot dude from Gilmore Girls was in my dream last night... It was heavenly, if only for a moment. He and Lorelei shared a kiss on the show yesterday, and I looked at Rob and said, "I love to watch them kiss. If I didn't have thrush, and didn't have strep..."

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Madame Beauchamp

I just went to my high school's 50th anniversary bash on the campus, and had such a nice time! I went with an old high school friend, which was fun, and we got to walk the halls, and see some old teachers, and reminisce in a way that was far less punitive than the twentieth reunion I went to in September. There were a lot of people there, though not a lot from our class, so I could be kind of invisible which is what I prefer. I did speak to my old french teacher, Madame Beauchamp, and it took me a minute to remember that I became a french major in college and that I spent a year in France. I just remembered sitting in the back of her class, doing the math to figure out what question would be mine on the worksheet, and getting back to writing notes or doodling which seemed way more important. Then we ran into Mr. Feeney, an English teacher, and what we remembered about him was that he once bummed a cigarette from my friend, and that he was the first teacher I heard drop an F bomb in class. He was a little mortified at being remembered that way, but I swear, that's the kind of stuff I remember about hight school. Where I smoked, where I cut class, where I ate lunch, where my locker was, stuff like that. But, I do remember what french adjectives come before the noun instead of after, and I do remember what an obtuse angle is, and I do remember that I got free candy bars from the biology teacher, and... that's about it! So, Bravo, Madame Beauchamp for teaching me one of the only things I remember from high school!

Friday Five:

1) What's the most annoying sound in the world? My dog barking past his quota, the chicks on The View

2) Which of other people's mannerisms do you find very annoying? When my daughter chews her nails, or puts anything else besides food in her mouth. When moms speak to their kids in baby talk.

3) What do you do that really annoys others? Do we have enough room here? I don't clean up after myself, I'm moody, I'm on the computer too much, I pick the hairs on my chin. There's a ton more, but those are the high lights.

4) In what way has your own behavior recently caused you annoyance? Since I don't clean up after my self, my house is often a mess: The other day, there were 50 different things I could have done to improve my surroundings, or take in some fresh air, or serve my family, but, instead, I got into bed and watched E. When I got up, the place was - Surprise! - still a mess, plus I felt like a douche for not having cleaned it up in preparation for the weekend. My laziness and lack of gumption annoys me to no end.

5) Who's the most annoying person you know? The easy answer here is my husband because he has more opportunities to annoy me than any other person, and I have to live with him so he's around all the time. But that's really too easy an answer. When I think about it, there are a lot of annoying people in my life, but in case they read this, I don't want to name names. I'm not very good at hiding my annoyance with people, its one of my deeper flaws, so if I find you annoying, you know who you are.

Thursday, April 23, 2009


So, I've been told I need to post more pictures. Apparently, my long-winded rants about nothing are just not enough for some people, so here you go:

This is Leila's hair first thing in the morning. Its a wonder I can get a comb through it (but I can) and she never notices how wild it is. I absolutely love it.

This is what late April looks like in my backyard. I love these roses. They are so forgiving and fragrant, and make us look like we know what we're doing in our backyard which we decidedly do not.

Happy now??

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

And the Universe Smiled

Reader, I had to follow up on my last post. I know that it has been bugging you all damn day long, wondering, worrying, did Boredhousewife find a bra or not?
Well, I did. I did exactly what I explained in the last post: swarmed through the bra department of Macy's, like one of those ant colonies that can devour an entire buffalo in minutes and leave only the bones, and, with an armload of Ds and DDs, spat on the "six items or less rule" in the dressing room, and started trying them on. I tried on every one once, then I tried on the best three again, and then the best two one more time. I did all the tests, plus an additional one that I forgot to mention: while wearing my T shirt over the bra, I swing my arms back and forth, close to the body, and if the inside of my upper arm hits boob during the swing, its no good. (Its a delicate balance between too wide, and too pushed into the middle.)
Not only did I find a bra, I found two! I bought one in nude and the other in black, so I can road test them both, and they were both under $40, and the black one was on sale! The universe was not only smiling, it was patting me on the head and giving me a cookie!
Then we went to Cheesecake factory for lunch, and we ordered off their small plates menu, and every single thing we had was delicious, and we sat outside, under an umbrella, and judged everyone who walked by. It was wonderful. Nothing could have made it better. And! I found some pants! I only have one pair of pants that actually fits me right now; the rest are either two big (relax, I didn't lose any weight, I just bought them too big) or too small. Although it was a little humiliating buying pants with my thin friend (who kept saying, " well, if you lose some weight those will be too big." and I wanted to say, "Really: who are we kidding?") any discomfort I felt was completely outweighed by the sheer joy of finding a bra that fits.
The girls will be so happy, to be lovingly cupped in a new supportive wardrobe workhorse. Did I happen to mention why I needed a new bra (let me know if this is TMI)? I usually only buy one bra because they're so expensive, and I wear it every day, rain or shine, for a year or two. If I want to wash it, I have to do laundry on a day where I'll be home long enough to line dry it, or be okay wearing a sports bra. Well, my old bra's time must have been up, because, the other day, I was bending over to tie my shoes and I heard a snap. It was the under wire snapping in two. Poor thing, it was just plum wore out. It committed suicide.
I have two new bras! I have two new pairs of pants! I had ahi tar tar! Life is good, people, life is good!

The Good, The Bad and The UGLY

I am waiting for my friend, A., to come pick me up so we can go shopping and have lunch. Does that sound awesome or what? A. and I are way too excited about this, and it just goes to show how small our lives have become.

The Good: I probably do not have an IGA deficiency since no one has followed up with me about the results of my immunoglobulin blood test. I just left a message for Dr. T asking him, again, to let me know the results. A negative result may not be as interesting to him, but it is very interesting to me.

The Bad: I do have Telegen effulvium which sounds serious, and is serious. It is a very fancy way of saying that MY HAIR IS FALLING OUT! I could lose up to 80% of my hair, and, though it will grow back, it might grow back curly, or darker, or... grey. So for the next year or so, I will have a head growing who-knows-what, and I'll be wearing a lot of hats. Also, my back hurts like a mo-flikka. I'm telling you, the universe is totally messing with me.

The Ugly: I am going to have a luxurious morning of shopping with my good friend, and I will get to eat something delectable, I'm sure, but the sad truth is, we're going bra shopping. If you have heavy, pendulous cans like me, then you know this particular pain. A. has teeny tiny perky boobies, and probably looks adorable in anything, so she'll have way more fun. The geniuses that make up the woman's undergarment industry saw fit to discontinue the best bra in the world, the one I wore for years, the one that made all my T shirts fit right. So, now I have to go to the department store and, rather than just finding the size and color of the Best Bra Ever, without having to think about it too much, I have to take about two dozen flesh colored bras in various sizes into the dressing room, wrestle each one off the hanger, put it on, and if it fits at all, put my T shirt back on, check for torpedo-tit, and quadro-boob, bounce around and shake myself upside down to make sure nothing falls out, and, if I am very very lucky, and the universe is smiling on me, I will walk out with one nude and one black bra, costing me the equivalent of two trips to the grocery store, or two bikini waxes, or 6 pedicures, and about 50 McDonalds mini meals. This is if I'm lucky. I could walk out of there with nothing at all but a sore back and a need for wine with lunch.
Women with little T's just don't get it. My neighbor once stared at me like I was some kind of freak because I came home completely exhausted from bra shopping, and was content that I had found something that would do the trick, and when I said, "yeah, seventy bucks." she about spit out her coffee. Small chested women can get away with shopping for bras at the Gap, but not the rest of us. Sometimes, its hard to be a woman...

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Friday Five for April 18th (yes, I know its Saturday)

1) When did you last sleep in a tent? Labor Day weekend, 2008, Hendy Woods state park. First camping trip with the whole family. Here's what I learned: Ambien is the secret camping ingredient; allows you to sleep completely unaware of how cold you might be, how much your hip hurts, what that scary growling sound is... Also, if you have an only child, borrow another kid, or go with another family; Leila spent most of the time playing in the car with the bike lock. She had a good time, but still...

2) What comes to mind when you think of relieving yourself in the great outdoors? What the hell kind of question is this? Okay, I'll roll with it. Poison oak. I have never gotten poison oak on my lady parts, and haven't had poison oak at all since the third grade (knock wood) but it gives you pause when you're about to drop trou'. I have no trouble squatting a few yards away from the camp fire in the dark to save myself a trip to the bathroom. Leila peed behind a trash can at the dog park today, and emerged unscathed.

3) Where's the best place you ever went camping? I have no idea. I've just started camping again as an adult, and I don't know where the heck we camped when I was a kid.

4) What's your favorite camp food? This is an interesting question. I'm trying to come up with easy-to-pack, easy-to-cook camping food ideas, for dinner mostly. My husband did not believe me when I insisted that a warm hardy breakfast was a must-have, until he ate bacon and eggs at the picnic table. I pick marshmallows; not smores, they're too rich for me, but just roasted marshmallows. I like 'em burnt, or golden brown, or whatever you got, and I can put 'em away.

5) What's your sleeping bag like? I want a new one. I have a Costco, $20 cotton Coleman bag in navy blue. My daughter and my husband have both recently gotten new fancy warm sleeping bags, and I want one, too. Mine is a little cold, but with the ambien, that's not really a concern. Mostly, I want a stuff sack so it takes up less room in the back of the car, and you can just brush dirt off with your hand.

And there you have it.

Leila and I talked about vaginal discharge tonight. I love when these things come up, and I have an opportunity to reinforce the fact that she can ask me absolutely anything. There are a bunch of articles in this month's Oprah magazine about talking to our daughters about sex, and the info is terrifying. Apparently, relating with your daughter about your own adolescence and sexual experiences, information I have at the ready for when the time comes, is not what they want to hear, and even though girls have had the same pressure and self esteem problems for time immemorial, they simply don't believe that their mothers can understand them. So much for my grand plan...

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Just go with it

I really feel like writing right now, but I don't have anything interesting to say except that my feet kind of stink, and I've had about five small teaspoons of cookie dough, and I should really be wearing my glasses because my eyes are red and bleary. So, I googled "Blog Prompts" and found a whole bunch of ideas. Most of them were deeper than I care to get today, but here's one that I thought would be interesting:

My 10 Favorite Sounds
Let's see how this goes...

1) Camera shutter: Not the fake kind that is included with all the digital cameras, but the real deal, the real 35mm shutter. The last camera we got is a digital, and I didn't realize that what I really wanted was a digital SLR, nor did I realize how crazy expensive those are. I asked the guy at the store if the camera made a shutter sound (I just mis-typed, and wrote "shitter sound" and I think we can all be glad our cameras don't make that noise) and he said it did, but he meant that it makes the fake kind. My neighbor is a fancy shmancy professional photographer, and I secretly think she got into that profession because she wanted to hear this sound all the time.

2) Crickets: This is a pretty boring one, but those nasty little insects are pretty irresistible. They make me think about when I was in third grade and we moved into the house my parents still live in, and it has a huge oak tree in the yard with tons of crickets. In the summer, they make a good racquet, and I went from complaining that they we keeping me awake, to loving the sound. The tree was also full of spiders, and I spent at least a year being scared of spiders AND vampires so I would put myself to sleep with this elaborate system of rolling the top of my down comforter a couple of times and pulling it tight around my neck, and sleeping as far away from the wall as I could, sometimes waking up with my head on the nightstand. (I failed to understand, at the time, that spiders don't need walls to come and get you, they can dangle from the ceiling on webs and get you that way.) Its a really good thing I never imagined vampire spiders, I never would have slept again.

3) Kids laughing, especially when they're laughing at fart humor. Of course I love my daughter's laugh, and that girl can laugh. She has laughed so hard that she's peed her pants and fallen on the kitchen floor. She gets into these laughing jags and just can't stop. She has two friends who have fantastic laughs. One of them, C, is a very quiet girl who can hardly muster a goodbye when she leaves and lets other kids speak for her all the time, and when she does speak, she's a soft-talker. You'd never know that she has the biggest, loudest laugh. She and Leila sit at the kitchen table making up stories with their bunny crackers and this girl laughs her little ass off. Another of Leila's friends, E, has this little angelic face, and pretty blond hair, and she looks like she just stepped out of an ivory snow commercial. She has the most maniacal, demonic laugh you've ever heard. She laughs like a 6 year-old serial killer.
Somehow, its more enjoyable to me when the kids are laughing about poo poo caca stuff than other stupid stuff they think is funny. Once, in the back of my friend's car, Leila and C were going on and on about sheep spraying diarrhea out their penises, and they were just in hysterics. I try to make my back seat a safe place for "potty talk" thinking that when they're older it will develop into sex talk or drug talk. I fool myself into thinking that they'll always forget I'm there if I just stay quiet. One day, on the way to a nursery, I said "better wrap up the potty talk, we're almost there." and C said, "Quick! Leila! Say something about poo!"

4) I can't really think of any more sounds that I love, except for cheesy ones like wind in the trees, and waves on the beach and crap like that, so how about the sounds I hate?

5) My dog barking excessively. A little barking is fine and natural, but, really, this is getting ridiculous.

6) Pearl Jam. Can't stand Pearl Jam. Makes me want to rip the car radio out of the dashboard and beat it against my own head.

7) The low battery alert on my smoke detectors. They always want to alert me that my battery is low at two in the morning. I can't tell you how many smoke detecters I have beaten to death with a broom handle.

8) Other people's kids whining. My daughter doesn't whine much, and do you want to know how I cured her of whining in the week after she discovered whining? I said, "I can't hear you when you're whining, it makes my ears not work" Done. If she does whine, I know she has a really good reason. Some kids, though, whining is there MO. They don't know how to speak any other way, and it makes me want to stick my fingers in me ears and go LA LA LA LA LA!

9) My feet really smell! So much for the anti microbial foot beds in these shoes. I need anti microbial feet.

10) Oh here's a sound I like: Bowling pins being knocked over. Its the sound of fun, and I don't even bowl.

Okay, that's ten. Ten of what, I have no idea. Thanks for your patience, and hey! if you're on facebook, join the Bored Housewife Syndrome fan club. I started it myself since I am such a fan of... myself. There was a woman on Oprah who makes a butt load of cash with her blog, and I think I should be able to do that, too. Who wants to get out of their pajamas just to make a little money?

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Friday Five, part deux

I missed the Friday Five last week, so I'll do them now:
1) What is something you know how to draw? Um... I can actually draw a lot of things. I used to be a pretty good artist, and took some classes, and was even an art history major for about ten minutes. I used to draw a lot of coats, for some reason. Somewhere in my parents' house is a roll of pencil drawings of trench coats. Now my artistic skills are concentrated in play dough, and drawing flowers and things for my daughter, and, frankly, I hardly ever do that either. I can, however, draw a bath with some panache.

2) Who's someone you could get away with impersonating? Jennifer Lopez. Just kidding. I do not have one of those faces that looks like anyone famous. A long time ago, probably 40 or 50 pounds ago, someone told me they thought that I looked like Rachel Ward; you know, the woman who played the main character in the Thorn Birds miniseries, and was later in a movie remembered only for its theme song by Phil Collins. She's super hot, so whoever thought I looked like her clearly wanted to borrow money. I suppose impersonating someone doesn't have to mean you look like them, though. I think I do a pretty good impersonation of my best friend's daughter, who's a crack up.

3) Where's the stapler: Oh this is a good one. The actual stapler is in my desk drawer, right below where my fingers are typing right this minute. I actually use a staple-less stapler when I can, but I have a red swingline tot 50 in the drawer. It is a teeny tiny stapler, that takes miniature staples. I bought a black one in college, and it was immediately and to this day referred to as the swingline tot 50, and I still have it somewhere. When I met my husband, he had the red version and I knew it was meant to be.

4) Why will this be a great weekend? It wont. Or, I don't have high hopes. It is supposed to be one of those perfect Northern California weekends: 80 degrees and sunny. I am schlepping myself around right now like I'm half dead, and I can only imagine that this will continue into this weekend. But if I were to look on the bright side, what will make it good is that my husband will be home, and he can deal with all the shit around here. He can do something fun with the kid, he can make lunch, he can peel me a grape, get some laundry done, etc. etc.

5) When are you going to make that phone call you've been putting off? I can proudly say that I made all the phone calls that were on my list. Except I didn't. I didn't call my allergist last Monday to give him the readings on my flux capacitor... I mean my peak flow meter, but since I went into the hospital, I think I have a pretty good excuse. I am also supposed to call back this nurse/case manager from my insurance company, but I just haven't had it in me. I'll call tomorrow. I do have some questions.

Not a lot of get-up-and-go in me today, dear readers. The stapler question was my favorite. See you next Friday!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Sickness by the Numbers

So, I got a big strep infection, again, and I had to stay in the hospital for a few days, again. Here's the tally, including both hospital stays:
Total days in the clink: 14
CT Scans: 2
MRIs: 1
Echo cardiograms: 2
EKGs: 3 (maybe more, I can't remember)
Trans-esophogial echo cardiogram (oh yeah, baby): 1
Chest x-rays: 3
IVs: 7
PICC lines: 1
Foley catheters: 1
blood cultures: ?
blood draws: too many to count
ABGs: 3
Bone scans: 1
Another scan that I don't remember the name of but it tested my gall bladder: 1
Specialists seen: 5
Total number of doctors in the mix: 10
Number of organs whose removal was contemplated: 2 (if you count tonsils)
Nurses: lost count
Nurses who said they would look the other way if I wanted my husband to sneak our dog into my room: 1
Nurses with weird names: half (Dechen, Marvi, Innocent, Bhima...)
Number of hospital rooms: 4
Number of hospital rooms with a killer view: 2
Showers: 1
Sponge baths: 1
Theraputic massages: 1
Therapy dog visits: 0
Number of different drugs: I have no idea
Number of medications or procedures refused: 2
Best way to eat two potassium tablets: mashed in ice cream.
Best way to not get your IV line tangled on your IV pole while going to the bathroom: keep the LED screen facing you at all times.
Number of mix CDs made for me by a PTA board member who read my last blog post about hating being on the PTA board and whose husband sometimes rides the same bus into the city as my husband: 3
Number of super nice nurses and techs and phlebotomists: most
Number of episodes of What Not to Wear watched, because there never seemed to be anything else on: at least a dozen
Number of demented ER patients yelling, "I have to have a bowel movement so I can celebrate Easter!": 1
Number of hospital visitors in the hallway that looked like the red baron: 1
Number of people in costume: 0
Number of kind-of hot doctors: 2
Number of times by left boob was exposed to the world: 5
Number of Bahamian-born gurney transport guys: 2 (especially fun when they take you to your echo, and they sound just like the guy in Lost from season one, Mista Echo)
Number of male nurses: 3
Number of male nurses with weird names: 2
Number of times I laughed so hard a nurse came in: 1
Number of tears shed: one million
Number of kinds of bacteria: 2 (strep A and G)
Number of times I want to go back into the hospital: 0
Number of things that still might be wrong with me: 2 (or a lot more if you count character flaws)
Number of things that are definitely not wrong with me: a lot.
Number of times I thanked my lucky stars that I'm not dead: not done counting yet.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Screwed, and not in a good way

Dude, I am so screwed. I'm even more screwed if anyone on the PTA board reads this, but I just don't care, I'm too screwed.
As the parliamentarian of the PTA, it is my job to revise and renew the bylaws with the California State PTA every two years. This was my first time, and I've known that I have to do this since at least the beginning of the school year, maybe before. I didn't feel a great sense of urgency in the fall because our current bylaws are dated 2007, so waiting until 2009 didn't seem like a big deal. But I did have a long meeting with the district parliamentarian in early december, and took, what I considered at the time to be detailed and copious, notes.
Then I got sick.
My only other job as parliamentarian is to form a nominating committee and fill any vacancies on the board of the PTA for the next school year. Clearly, I could not do that from a hospital bed, so other members of the board lovingly and generously took that job over for me. Now, I've had some board members e-mail me, and offer their assistance with this bylaws bullshit, and I've said, No no no, its taken care of, I really want to do it since I couldn't do half of my job this year, etc. etc. I got the distinct impression that they were e-mailing me because they have a sense of urgency, even if I don't.
So, tomorrow is my first PTA board meeting since December, and I'm thinking, No problem, I'll just make sure I get everything done before the meeting.
God, I'm stupid.
Rob helped me compare the old bylaws to the new bylaws and suss out the hardly noticeable changes made by the state. I typed them all up for the meeting tomorrow. Then I looked at the "detailed and copious" notes I took back in December, and, as it turns out, not so detailed, not so copious, and in clear opposition to actual printed instructions I received, which I would have noticed had I bothered to read them before today. Also, looking through the expertly organized binder handed down to me by the previous parliamentarian, I noticed that there is a draft copy of our current bylaws that includes some stuff at the end that isn't in our signed originals of the final bylaws. I am left to wonder if those extra things at the end of the draft are part of the actual bylaws or not, and to ask someone on the board would be to admit that I haven't even looked at any of this stuff before today. AND! I read today that there is supposed to be a bylaws committee, so I was never expected to do all of this on my own in the first place, but stupid me had to open my fat head hole and reject the offers of help!!!
Have I mentioned that I'm screwed?
I've e-mailed the district parliamentarian to pump her for info, and I could be looking at a long night. I would rather clean my house than do this. I would rather pull weeds than do this. I would rather pick my own butt than do this*.
But this isn't even the frustrating part. It just sheds more light on the much larger issue of What the Hell am I Doing with my Life? I thought, because I'm a stay-at-home mom with only one kid and no apparent home making skills, that I should spend a lot of my free time volunteering at my kid's school. I felt like if I just sat around and enjoyed my free time by, oh I don't know, reading a book or going to lunch or puttering or singing and dancing around my kitchen, that I would be breaking all the rules that I've been brought up to believe are the backbone of any family, namely, work and toil, work and toil, work and toil, have a cocktail, and work and toil some more. My dear husband thinks the work and toil mentality is bullshit, and I just love that about him. Anyway, I volunteered my little heart out this year, and you know what? Its not that fun or fullfilling. And after spending an entire season recovering from a serious illness, I have discovered that maybe all this volunteering is not for me. I started out wanting to volunteer partly because I thought I should, but also partly because I wanted to show Leila that school is important enough for me to take the time to be a part of it with her. Turns out, though, all the stuff I volunteered to do is stuff she doesn't see me do, or hears me complain about doing. Don't show your kids that you hate the job you chose, whatever that job is, right? Next year, I'm going to be very selective about what I do at the school, and I'm going to spend more time in her classroom, where she can see that I am there.
But that's not even what I was going to say. The same forty people, mostly women, show up for all the meetings, and all the volunteer stuff. I've written about these women, these alpha women, these women who were probably in powerful jobs before they had kids, and have lots of can-do attitude, and are thin and fit and vibrant and organized go-getters. I have total admiration for these women, I wish I had half their energy and their stamina and their thighs, but, let's face it folks, I am not one of these women. If I was ever an alpha go-getter, I'm not one now. I'm more like the golden retriever accompanying these women when they go running; trying to keep up, but really more interested in my next meal and taking long naps on the couch. I had a college roommate who compared herself to an old dog, and now I know exactly what she meant. I've surrounded myself with people who, by their very nature (and I in no way am criticizing their very nature, I'm actually totally jealous,) make me feel like a loser. Actually, they don't make me feel like a loser at all, I do that all by myself.
Don't you think its a bad idea to willingly put one's self in a league where you can never feel like you're doing enough, and you're terrible at what you are managing to do? Yeah, I need a different crowd.
Like how I managed to avoid working on my bylaw project for a while?
* That's for you, Jo.

Friday, April 3, 2009

The Friday Five

Okay, so check this out. I only write here when I'm inspired and feel like writing, but I have just discovered that there are little prompts out there in blog land for when you're bored writing about your own pathetic life. I found it cruising other people's blogs, trolling for readers. Not that you aren't enough for me, but I'm never going to be famous with just my merry band of loyal followers.
I'll give this a try, you tell me whether it works for you or not.

1) Favorite fizzy, bubbly drink: Uh, Coke, duh! Classic, preferably from a fountain with crushed ice. I go through phases; sometimes I prefer the can, sometimes I prefer the fountain, and I'm in a fountain cycle right now. I normally buy those little 100 calorie cans, but yesterday I bought a two-liter bottle because it was on sale, and I have to say I'm feeling a lot of pressure to drink it all before it loses its fizz. I also like champagne.

2) Favorite deep fried food: Anything. Deep fried dog poo, deep fried napkin, doesn't matter. But, if forced to choose (and, you can't see him, but there is a guy here with a gun to my head,) I would say that the obvious answer is french fries, but my second choice would be popcorn shrimp or something like that. I love a good egg roll, and I think they're deep fried.

3) Favorite hot beverage: Not a huge fan of the hot beverage, and I don't care for anything coffee flavored, let alone actual coffee. I really don't understand the devotion people seem to have to coffee, although if its anything like Gilmore Girls reruns, I guess I do get it. My go-to hot beverage is Twinings Eeal Grey tea, decaf, one cube of sugar. It has to be Twinings, although Republic of tea is respectable, but not decaf. No Bigelow, can't stand the stuff. I have a really funny story about tea and sugar, but I'll save it for another time.

4) Favorite really messy food: I recently had a sandwich that was a BLT with a fried egg in it, over easy. It was awesome, and really messy. Rob had one, too, and there was egg yolk running down his arm. I like cake, too, but I guess anything is messy if you eat it with your hands tied behind your back, which I would totally do if that was the only way someone would let me eat cake.

5) Favorite recipe for blended or mixed beverage: Cosmos. I love 'em, and I'm a tiny bit famous for 'em. I made margaritas for softball practice today, but cosmos are more my style. I used to drink whisky sours, and I still like them, but I usually go for the cosmo. I was so relieved when I finally found a cocktail that I actually liked drinking. I used to go out with friends and order rum and cokes, and screw drivers and, frankly, those things are nasty. Who knew that a cocktail wasn't supposed to be something you suffered through? I had a very brief experimentation with Stoly on the rocks, which doesn't fit into the blended or mixed category, but it ended with me almost throwing up on Rob's receptionist in the bar bathroom, and, worse than that, I missed Rob doing karaoke, because my forehead was on the table. No no, no more Stoly on the rocks for me.

So, how was this for you? Fun for me, gave me something to write about today other than laundry and grocery shopping, both of which I have done today, much to my own amazement.
I have a parent-teacher conference this afternoon with Leila's teacher. I have to sit there and listen to how fabulous she is. Tell me something I don't know, lady. I think I'm supposed to be really interested in how many words per minute she reads, and how she's doing with math and stuff, but I kind of blank out when her teacher talks about that stuff. She loves school, and she cracks me up, and we don't yell at each other that much and we hug a lot. What's left?

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Excuse me, Sir, but have you seen my Gusto?

Jeez, people: I have absolutely no gusto. Zero gusto. I'm gustoless. I am sans gusto. Even by pre-sick standards, I am devoid of gusto. Take all the gusto in the world and get rid of it, and that's how much gusto I have. I am gusto-free. I'm the anti-gust0. I would take a nap, but I don't have enough gusto. If the gusto I have could be converted to electricity, it would maybe power a cell phone for fifteen minutes, less if a phone call were made. I had some gusto, but I blew it, and now its gone. I want to write long, beseeching letters to my former gusto and beg it to return. I want to write love songs to my gusto, but I don't have enough gusto. Am I clear? Are we all on the same page re: my lack of gusto? okay, then.
I am not talking about energy. I have more energy than I did a few days ago. In fact, I really don't have any desire to take a nap, or rest, I just don't have any desire to do anything else. I have no zest. I'm zestless. I'm sans zest. Etc. etc.
I just came from the physical therapist, and I am frustrated at my rate of improvement. My knee still really hurts, and I'm starting to think it will always feel this way, and I'll never be able to squat again. Not that I was high on squatting before, but I could pick up a dropped pencil when it rolled under the table, you know? I had a sore throat: How in the world did that turn into a perpetually sore knee? Shit.
On the way back from the physical therapist, I stopped at the farmer's market. This always makes me feel good. I feel very earthy and spiritual and grounded at the farmer's market, even if all I buy is kettle corn. But today I even bought lettuce, and I did not get that holy feeling. Is it wrong that I came back from two weeks in Hawaii a month ago and I feel like I need a vacation? I want to stare at the ocean and listen to podcasts until it gets chilly and dark, and then go inside and stare at something else.
I have to yank myself out. I have to put away the kettle corn, put on some good tunes, and yank myself out. The first thing I can think of that I need to do when I yank myself out is a load of laundry, and that gets me to feeling, aw, to hell with it. I should just stand up, put one foot in front of the other, move my arms in front of me, and maybe, without even thinking about it, a load of laundry will start turning in the washer, and piles will start getting smaller. You think?
Did you see that picture of the Obamas with the queen of England and prince Phillip? The Obamas tower over the monarchs. Its hilarious! And they're not posed, and they're just standing there looking awkward, smiling, knowing how ridiculous they look all together, two giants among the pygmys.
Oh gusto, where have you gone! Come back to me, my love!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Go Cardinals!

Its been a few days. I've been making myself really busy, running around, and I'm paying for it now. I guess I was just so excited to be feeling more normal, that I over did it. I've been go go go since the weekend before last, and on Monday of this week the curtain just came down hard. I went to bed before the kid last night. I slept from around 7:30 until 10, woke up when the man came to bed, watched The Office, and went back to sleep.
So, today, I am not doing anything that I don't want to do, and doing only things that are restful and restorative. Like writing this!
I had an appointment with a trainer at the gym last Friday. His name was AJ and he was sweet if a little dopey. He had two different-sized nostrils, and I'm sure he shaves his arms. I thought swimming might be his sport of choice, but he was a little bulky for that, and it turns out he plays baseball. Why would you have to shave your arms for baseball? Anyway, I don't think he really got it when I said I was recovering from an illness, or he was extremely optimistic for me. He showed me at least a dozen different machines and exercises, and kept saying "three sets of 12 of these." I didn't have the heart to laugh in his face. I think these exercises will be really good when I eventually go back there. I haven't been back since our meeting (see top paragraph.) They're all upper body weight training, and I probably look like a dork doing them. But bikini season is coming up, you know...
In the days prior to my adventures with AJ, also in preparation for bikini season, I finally finished the last of Rob's birthday cake. It was a struggle, but someone had to do it. We got a half sheet, and two-thirds were eaten at the party. I gave one hunk away to my neighbor, and pretty much at the rest all by myself. I would mostly just leave a fork in the box and swipe scoops of cake as I walked by, but sometimes I would actually cut a piece like a civilized person. Wanna hear something shameful? I let Leila have a little piece here or there, but I totally hoarded it for myself. When there was only a little bit left, I told her it was all gone so she wouldn't ask for any more. I either love cake that much, or I have a little problem. Probably the latter, given my penchant for stuffing myself. At the end, the cake part was gone, and there was just a pile of white icing, sweet enough to make you see spots, and I powered through it with a spoon. It was with a mixture of relief and triumph and sadness that I cleaned the last dregs off the cake plate with warm soapy water. No more cake until my birthday in November, but Rob has forgotten to get me cake on my birthday for the last two years, so it will probably be no more cake until Leila's birthday in January.
I also went to McDonalds again last week, but I ordered a meal deal instead of a mini meal and was so full and grossed out by my own self that I think that's the last McDonalds for a while. I should also add here, lest you think that all I eat is junk food, that I made a delicious pork roast with lots of veggies and it was very yummy. I've also had three salads in the last week... and two milkshakes. Have you ever noticed that the lumps of cookie dough in Ben and Jerry's Half Baked ice cream are a little chalky?
Enough with the menu. (Last word: I have a half a burrito in the fridge that I am really looking forward to. There.) We had our second softball game of the season on Saturday, and these Cardinals are looking good! One of the parents overheard some players on the opposing team say that the girls on our team looked small and that we only had seven players to their fourteen so they were sure to win, but I think we took them by surprise. The smaller they are, the more determined and coordinated they seem to be. The two smallest players on our team are easily the two best. They are in it to win it, and their jerseys go down past their knees. There is no score keeping, and the base coaches are pretty generous with the batters when it comes to outs, but these girls can play! Used to be they'd run the wrong way, they would run a loop around the pitcher's mound instead of touching the bases, they would sit in the dirt and draw little hearts with their fingers, etc. but a year has made a huge difference. Leila is doing well, she hits the pitches on her first or second swing and makes a good showing. I don't think she cares too much about winning, though, and her eyes are on the post-game snack, and getting to go to the playground after practice. We are in charge of snack this week and I plan on making some margaritas. For the parents, not the kids.
That's enough for now. I'll try to be more awake and on the ball the next time I write. Last night, Leila yelled, "What about me, people? What about my needs?" I just love that kid.