October 26, 2004 | My name is Grumplestiltskin

In case I haven’t mentioned it–which I’m sure I haven’t, on account of I’ve been so successful with my Great Plan–I have this Great Plan in place. It goes a little something like this: think about anything, anything at all, rather than thinking about the Perfect Job Which I Might In Fact Get But Maybe Not. If I think about it, I vacillate so rapidly between the unfamiliar glow of hope and a dark cloud of deep despair (because if I don’t get this job? I give up) that I become very dizzy and need to lie down and also consume large amounts of carbohydrates. Hence the Great Plan. What am I thinking about? Why, lots of things! All kinds of things! But not that whole thing I’m not thinking about that I can’t mention because that would require thinking about it! Haha!

See how that works? It’s genius.

In the meantime, I am pondering various frustrations of varying levels of pettiness. It keeps me occupied.
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Offspring: ecstasy and agony

“Are you in your pajamas? I hear you playing, and I know you’re not playing if you’re not ready for bed.”

“Where did you put my pajamas?”

“They’re right THERE.”

“Where?”

“Right in your room! Don’t make me come in there!”

“On the floor?”

“Yes.”

“Are they folded in a little pile?”

“Yes.”

“Are they my favorite green?”

“Yes.”

“And nice and fuzzy?”

“Yes…?”

“The same ones I wore last night?”

“YES…!”

“Hmmm. Haven’t seen them!”

(It’s really hard to scold when you’re fully cognizant of being the source of the culprit’s smart-ass gene.)

Detritus, What do I do all day?

When I paint. Sheesh. You’re sick.

A friend of mine has been “in the process” of painting her family room for something like six months. I couldn’t take it any more; when I saw her this weekend, I told her to pick a day because it was time to finish painting. She picked today, and I went straight over there after dropping the kids. We sponge painted the entire room. I did all of the work near the ceiling, because she has a bad shoulder and shouldn’t be reaching. And really, I find that Zen mood that overtakes me when I paint settles in better when I’m perched on a ladder or a chair. It must be the additional concentration.

Despite my single-minded attention on the task at hand, I discovered myself singing along with the radio. The station we were listening to was an “oldies” station, and many of those “oldies” are from when I was in high school. That made me feel pretty oldie. Wah. But that is not my point. My point is that amongst the Beatles and the Billy Joel and the James Taylor and all the other stuff they played for three hours while we painted, I knew all the lyrics to all of the songs without even thinking about it.
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October 25, 2004 | What do I do all day?

I’m not sure what it was. It could be my earlier post, or maybe it was just that I’d finally had enough of this constant headache that I get from trying to focus my gaze inbetween the teeny splotches all over my lenses. But today, I bit the bullet, and went to pick out new glasses.
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My name is Grumplestiltskin

It occurs to me that my mind isn’t the only item that’s gone AWOL around here. If you spot any of the following, could you please return to me? I would offer a reward, but what could be more rewarding than my undying appreciation? Okay, fine. I’ll give you a cookie.
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October 24, 2004 | Health is overrated

There was a commercial break in the baseball game, just now, so I went into my bathroom to take my nightly meds.

I picked up my cup and turned on the water. Then I noticed the cup was wet.

I have no recollection of using that cup today, save for when I brushed my teeth this morning.

But the cup is wet. Which probably means I already took my pills. More specifically, it most likely means I just took my pills within the last hour or two.

No recollection.

So. Which is the more logical course of action? Assume that I am old and senile, already took them, and miss a night if I’m wrong? Or wonder if I have gremlins or poltergeists who were thirsty, and risk a double-dose by taking my meds now? Gah.

I guess it’s time to start using one of those weekly pill container thingies. From there it’s only a matter of time before I start stuffing dinner rolls into my purse at a restaurant, you know. But given that that’s likely to happen if I screw up my meds a few days in a row, anyway, what the heck.

What do I do all day?

I want to tell you all about how I haven’t blogged because I’m having this fantabulous, exciting, and productive weekend. The weekend’s been okay, but mostly I haven’t blogged because I am lazy.

Last night I found myself trapped in a room full of Yankees fans. Oh, the horror. Watching those poor misguided souls cheering for St. Louis just because they’re sore losers… it was so pitiful. I assuaged my sadness with copious amounts of french onion dip and the occasional caring observation, such as, “You know the Cardinals are going to lose, right? I mean, you’ve prepared yourself for this eventuality?” Sure, I had a few things thrown at me, but at least I had the good sense to head home to watch the final inning in peace. That probably saved me from an actual beating.

Today I had to pick from amongst various invitations and ultimately did what everyone knew I was going to do–went to church and then came home and took a nap. I’m not going anywhere else. I’m all social-ed out for the weekend. It’s time to tend to all of the things I should’ve done during the week, and try to get them done before the kids get back tonight. I’m thinking–for example–that maybe I should put out the Halloween decorations. Of course, at this point, I’m so far behind that if I wait another week I don’t have to deal with them at all, and that’s tempting. But neither do I want to listen to an entire year of how I am the world’s most negligent mother because I never cleared a spot in the yard for the witch who rides the broom with a pinwheel at the end, either.

Yes, a witch with a broom that sports a pinwheel. Scary, no? We’re a regular house of horror.

We also have a little skeleton dude named Mr. Freaky. Mr. Freaky has light-up red LED eyes in his skull, and he dances and sings “Superfreak” with slightly modified lyrics. I’m a very spooky guy / The kind you don’t take home to mother. Monkey and Mr. Freaky are special friends; Monkey likes to imitate his dance and sing along, especially on the part where he goes, “Hey hey HEY HEY!” It’s a thing of beauty. And really, Mr. Freaky is the most normal guy I’ve ever had in the house, so I’m pleased to be able to provide a positive male role model for my son.

If you need me, I’ll be trying to pull apart my bagful of “scary eyes” window clings.

October 23, 2004 | Retail Therapy

I went back. Spent the whole morning doing it, actually. And now? I’m so afraid. Hold me.

What does it say about me that–upon reading people saying perfectly nice things about me–I turn around and deliberately insert myself into a situation where people are going to make me cry? There is something very, very wrong with the self-preservation portion of my brain. I suspect the bill-paying portion of my brain has taken it hostage.

I had a bid on my first item before I’d finished putting my listings up. The bidder has 0 feedback. And it gets better! She registered… yesterday! I’m just waiting for the email. “Hi!!! I live on Venus, and was wondering if you might ship to my friend’s cousin’s daughter’s baby on Neptune, perhaps even before I pay you??? Also, do you accept barter payments like roosters?” With any luck she’ll be outbid before it comes to that.

October 22, 2004 | My name is Grumplestiltskin, Retail Therapy

Verily, I am a delicate flower.

Stop laughing.

My therapist seems to think I need to spend some time journaling about my strengths and the things I like about myself. And she didn’t seem all that amused when I agreed, but asked what I would do after that. (What do you mean? she asked. Well, I said, since that’s only going to take about thirty seconds….)
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October 21, 2004 | Offspring: ecstasy and agony

*crickets*

So, either everybody died or my last post was my most boring yet. Okay.

The school meeting went well. The ex had the good sense to not say much, other than to agree with things I’d already said. So that went well, at least. I’m not sure we have any concrete answers, but at least we’ve set the stage for improvement and if it doesn’t arrive, it will be easier to enact change (I think).

I know some folks took issue with the vitriol in prior posts, so let me clarify something. My hackles go up when I feel my kid isn’t getting the best. I fully understand that her teacher is a person–most likely a wonderful person–and further am quite cognizant than any problems to this point are likely the result of oversight or incompatibility, maybe not even laziness, and certainly not malice. I get it; I do. In today’s meeting the teacher spoke very kindly of Chickadee and I do believe her when she says she adores my daughter.

That may or may not make her the right teacher for my child. That remains to be seen. But no; I did not rip her a new one or otherwise behave inappropriately. I vented here, then I went there and smiled and spoke in unthreatening “I” statements and all that good stuff. I’m very good at playing grown-up when I need to.

Not the point of the meeting, but: my 6-year-old has been “informally assessed” as reading at a 4th-grade level. It’s nice to hear at least they’re not going to argue with me about her being advanced….