Quick, someone punch me in the jaw
Remember when I was all “I’m going to the dentist to get my TMJ taken care of finally” and I knew it was going to be expensive but I was okay with that, mostly, because I’m in so much pain?
I don’t like surprises. So I went ahead and did my research before I went back, yesterday, so that I could maybe get over any sticker shock beforehand. According to what I’d read, I could expect to pay $400-$500 for the custom bite splint I expected they were going to recommend for me. Not chump change, to be sure, but I was steeled and ready. This is FOR MY HEALTH, I told myself, as I walked into the office. THIS IS SOMETHING I HAVE TO DO, I reminded myself, as I checked in. IT’S JUST MONEY, I repeated silently, because I am a total freak about money and I knew I just needed to get over it and take care of my health.
The dentist brought me into his little office with the desk and the awards and certificates on the walls and a metal contraption which now held a ceramic (?) reproduction of my teeth and how my bite works. The first thing I thought when I sat down was, “Man, my parents should TOTALLY demand that my childhood orthodontist give them their money back.” read more…
Nobody likes me, everybody hates me…
… guess I’ll go eat… oh, geez. I can’t even say it.
Whenever one of the kids is having a “woe is me” moment, as befits my loving maternal style, I often suggest that the afflicted one go eat some worms, because that’s what one does when life is so unfair and tragic, right? (Acceptable alternatives to suggesting a feast of slimy limbless creatures: Asking where the sad one lost their tail, or inquiring as to the tragedy of their lean-to blowing over.) As you might imagine, my ministrations are deeply appreciated by my offspring. FEEL THE LOVE! Obviously I am usually able to make everything better with my helpful suggestions.
Well. I don’t know about YOU, but we were hoping for a relaxing weekend here at Casa Mir. It had kind of been A Week, and all I wanted to do was sleep and chill out and just maybe let everyone unwind a bit.
But that didn’t happen, and it’s because my kids apparently took my advice.
I mean, sure, when I’m giving REAL advice, no one listens. But try to throw a little humor into the mix, and BAM, compliance. Of course. read more…
The joys of boys
You will never, ever, EVER hear me accusing Chickadee of being easy. Ever. But she is a girl, and so has stereotypically managed to be… girly. The kind of grief she causes tends to be emotional anguish, rather than, say, actual physical destruction. She doesn’t make all that much noise. (Sure, the *STOMPSTOMPSLAM* routine is not exactly quiet, but in her everyday existence volume modulation is not a problem.) She is not prone to, say, flinging herself around.
And then came Monkey. The joke in this house is that a herd of elephants lives in Monkey’s room. Whenever there is a large crash, now, after YEARS of coaching, Monkey reflexively calls out, “I’m okay!” He is just… different. Rougher. BOY-LIKE.
It pains me to gender-norm my kids this way. Because maybe that’s just THEM. I only have one boy and one girl, and who am I to say this is gender-dictated behavior? Maybe this is just MONKEY and CHICKADEE behavior. Maybe I’m falling into a generalization trap which is EVEN NOW sending them dangerous messages about what it means to be male or female!
Except that it turns out to totally be a gender thing. read more…
Love soars
I am in a very weird place at the moment. The simplest explanation is that I am just exhausted; physically, mentally, spiritually. I want a nap. About 30 hours should do it, I think. HAHA. Yeah. Anyway, there’s that. I am tired and overwhelmed and let’s face it, I am probably not the world’s greatest friend to begin with, but when I am tired and overly hurt-y about everything, I am an even worse friend. I retreat, and then I wonder why I am wallowing all by my lonesome. Lather, rinse, repeat. It’s delightful, except not really.
Fortunately I have a small group of folks who always poke into my bubble of burnout and remind me that they’re around and I’m okay. I’ve noticed that all of these people are non-local, though, which is possibly because of my Pavlovian response to email/texting even when I am rarely leaving the house or answering the phone, or maybe because I am easier to deal with from far away and in small doses. (I suspect the latter.) Locally, I don’t see a lot of folks when I’m struggling, which is surprisingly easy to do when you work from home.
This week I met a friend for coffee, though, because she was about to leave town for a bit, and blowing her off would’ve meant not seeing her for quite a while. Plus, she was recently diagnosed with cancer, and what sort of asshole would I be if I was all, Yeah, I know you’ve got this whole cancer thing going on, but I’m too busy despairing over the lint in my navel to see you? (Answer: The extremely asshole-ish kind of asshole.) read more…
Where have all the colors gone?
I’m going to a conference next week. As is my wont when I have a business event coming up, I carefully get all my ducks in a row: First I book my travel, then I organize the calendar to make sure the kids are covered while I’m away, next I make a hair appointment (lest you think I’m terribly girly, it’s generally only because I have 3+ inches of gray roots which need to be beaten into submission), and finally I commence freaking out about my clothes.
Sometimes I sort of want to punch myself in the face. That feeling generally comes on right after I either think or actually say, “I have nothing to wear.”
It is simultaneously aggravating and delightful to me that I work from home and only have to dress up a few times a year; on the one hand, I enjoy spending 95% of my life dressing like the sloth I am, and on the other, I really do kind of dig dressing up in my nicer clothes now and then. And heaven knows I love an excuse to shop. But lately I’m feeling like this just isn’t going the way it’s supposed to, dammit. read more…
Nature is terrifying
The thing about camping is that it’s supposed to be all about getting back to nature and bonding as a family—at least, in the Norman Rockwell-esque picture in my head, that’s what it’s supposed to be—but the reality is that there are only certain limits to which I’m willing to go when it comes to “roughing it.” For example: I am old, and I do not enjoy sleeping on the ground. Also, if it takes longer to set up camp than it took to drive there, I’m out. So this is why we have our little camping trailer, complete with beds (not as comfy as the beds at home, but a far cry from sleeping on the ground) and a kitchen and heat and AC.
It’s also why I let the kids take their Nintendo DSs on these trips, even though those are strictly “traveling toys” and never get played in the house. The IDEA of sitting around camp on a beautiful day, bonding as a family over idle chit-chat is a nice one. The REALITY is that perpetual “I’m bored” and “MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!” makes me want to tell nature to shove it, so we allow electronics.
Maybe not exactly the “getting back to nature” experience we should be aiming for, but for the most part, I’ll take it.
This trip, though, was perhaps a little more Halloween-themed than we’d planned. read more…
The best part of camping
Outdoor dining, of course!
(Photo by Otto. Fur-face by Licorice.)
Push and pull, laugh and cry
We’re going on a camping trip this weekend. We planned it… oh, I don’t know. Months ago. Last camping trip of the year, before we put the trailer back behind the house and cover it up and then, two weeks later, I will discover I need something from in there and have to bat my eyelashes at Otto to get him to go out back, undo the cover straps, venture into the cave-like inside, and retrieve it.
We don’t do as much vacationing as a family as I would like, and as the kids get older it only gets worse. Their time is limited. Rather, I should say Chickadee’s time is limited. She’s branching out into The World That Is Not Us, and that means she often has somewhere “better” to be, whether that is something educational or with her friends or whatever. And, of course, we split their free time with their dad, so that’s a constraint, too.
I want us to have more time to just enjoy being a family together, having fun. read more…
Clenched with anticipation
The time has come for me to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight.
Oh, wait. I already did that. (He stepped on my toes and had halitosis, by the way.)
No, actually the time has come for me to spend quality time with my dentist, and by “quality time” I of course mean “all of my money.” So that’s what I’ll be doing today, and I’m all kinds of excited.
Well, “excited” may be the wrong word. I am looking forward to not being in pain anymore. Might that happen? Hope springs eternal. As long as it’s not on the left side of my jaw, that is.
I’ve know for years and years that my dentist wanted to tackle my TMJ, but it wasn’t until my recent difficulties that I became willing to succumb. Which should tell you how miserable I am, right there. read more…
Hypothetical
It would be wrong to give my perpetually-ass-dragging, non-morning-person 12-year-old a cup of coffee in the morning to see if it helps her navigate the morning routine more than my constant nagging, time checks, and exasperated yelling does, right?
I’m just asking. For, um, fun.