Woulda Coulda Shoulda

It turns out that you can get a lot of laundry done on about three hours of sleep. Also, you can pay all of the bills, do a small amount of work, spend some time with your children, make a billion phone calls, and spend an inordinate amount of time just staring at your computer, trying to remember what in the world it was you were supposed to be doing.

Otto is now up in Boston with his mom and the rest of his family, and they are all waiting up there and we are all waiting down here, and I’m really not sure which one sucks more. In fact, I’m just going to go out on a limb and say that it all pretty much sucks, here or there, up or down; even Dr. Seuss could not find a way to make this anything other than what it is, which is just plain rotten.

Otto is—like most men, you know, the ones from Mars—a fixer. I tease him about it all the time. Never before in my life have I wanted so badly to just fix something that is so completely unfixable. (more…)

Sometimes there comes one of those times when all of my neuroses and stressors and fears bubble up and boil over here, and I write a heavy post and I cover my eyes and hit “Publish” and wait for the scolding that I’m sure will ensue. And then all of you are so sweet and kind and supportive, leaving nice comments and sending encouraging emails, and then I feel so lucky and loved and—dare I say it?—NORMAL again.

It’s a beautiful thing. Truly.

Until the next day… when I realize that a post like that and the resultant outpouring of support is a very tough act to follow. Because really, what’s a reasonable follow-up to the laid-bare frustration of wondering if I have somehow completely ruined my children? The mood must be lightened, but is it somehow sacrilegious to do so? (more…)

Can I tell you something I consider one of my dirty little secrets?

I love crappy food.

You may be shocked to know that, because anyone who knows me knows that we almost never eat out, and also that I’m quite vocal in my disdain for the lack of nutritional value in most take-out food. But the truth is that there was a long period of time when I was a kid where my dad hadn’t yet learned to cook and my mom was working nights, and my brother and father and I lived on McDonald’s and Kraft Mac and Cheese and Spaghettios and such. We were hardly unique—it was the 70s, and everyone was digging “convenience food”—and even though I hardly ever eat the stuff, now, I still see comfort in a blue box of macaroni or occasionally need some salty fries from McD’s.

(Mmmmm… salt and grease.)

As I feed my own family, now, I’m trying really hard to make the kind of memories that center around good food choices, with the occasional trip to Sonic being a treat of shocking proportions. (more…)