Archive for the ‘this sucks’ Tag
January 02 2012
So, 2011 sucked.
There’s no sense pussyfooting around it. Last year sucked, excessively. It sucked hard. It was a terribly awful year where every time I turned around another bad thing was happening, to where I just wanted to throw my hands up and surrender at life. Come to think of it, 2010 wasn’t much better. It’s hard to make lemonade when all the juice has already been sucked dry.
Cue the tiny violins.
Because then, there’s perspective. Everyone I love and that matters is still here. It’s not easy, but we’re making it, together. My children are resilient and flourishing. And even though I’ve been knocked down, repeatedly, I’m still standing. Beat up black and blue, but on my feet.
I believe 2012 has to be better.
Dear lord, it has to be.
Which is why I’m making 2012 about finding my happy.
In case I didn’t make it clear yet, last year wasn’t filled with many happy moments. I have not been happy. For a long time, my days have been barely functioning. Something has to change. It’s not a resolution. I don’t expect anything miraculous. I just need to find my direction. To begin taking the right steps, wherever I’m supposed to go, towards a better place of happier. Because essentially, I just want to feel like I can laugh again.
September 26 2011
When the cat’s away, the mouse will miss it. And then the cat will return to the mouse’s delight, only to have the cat scream and cry because she doesn’t want to be here.
Or something to that effect.
My children left with their dad for the weekend. Though it seemed like an eternity at the start. Not only was it the first time I had ever been away from them as a trio, but for days at that. While a full weekend to myself sounds like a great idea in theory, I am here to inform it had its kinks in practice. To say I missed them would be an understatement.
When I was presented with the fact that my children would not be around to pull and tug for my attention, I thought of everything I could possibly manage to get done. I could soak in a bath, eat ice cream for dinner, or take a nap. My main goal, however, was to write til my fingers bled. Such lofty aspirations. None of which came to fruition, because I was too busy missing my children.
And then they returned. My boys seemed sufficiently pleased to see me, but then there was my daughter. The daughter who normally doesn’t want to be out of my sight. The curly hair and bright laugh that I’ve looked forward to since Friday as they walked out the door. Who now wanted nothing to do with me.
It took almost two hours to get her to stop crying for her dad. She was angry with me, and has stayed that way since.
Welcome home.
September 15 2011
Hello, my name is Crystal and I’m addicted to the internet.
There is no sense in denying it. Me and my computer are BFFs. It’s in me, my lifeblood. I have cried before at the loss of an internet connection. I have resorted to drastic measure to keep in touch. It’s hard to step away, to put down, to focus elsewhere. The web has been a major part of who I am for almost 15 years now. There are times when I have even preferred it to real life.
And that is where it’s gone wrong.
Jedi is my child in every sense. He is me, in little boy form. And he takes after my serious interest in all things online. He’s fascinated with games and wikis and silly YouTube clips. It’s all he wants to do. I knew it was getting to be a problem, but it didn’t fully sink in until the other night. Every day I ask who he plays with at school, and every day he’s been saying nobody. But the other night, I dug further. After many followup questions, it’s because he’d rather be home. Playing on the computer.
He’s shy in real life. Like me. It’s easier on the computer. I get that. Do I ever get that. But I’m not doing him any favors letting this go on. It’s become an unhealthy crutch, for both of us.
Starting that night, his screen access has been limited. As he so poignantly noted, however, “Why do I have to get off the computer and you can be on all day?”. Fair question, and I can’t. Not anymore. Thus, I’ve set a limit on my own access, as well.
Because my son, my kids, are my real world. Where things aren’t always easy, but they can be beautiful and touching and fleeting. It is better, here. Not to say that it will be a smooth transition, I’ve been a bit twitchy already. We’ll suffer through our withdrawals, though, together.
August 12 2011
We have had Grey Kitty as a member of our family for going on 14 years. He’s a senior citizen as far as felines are concerned and is more than willing to take advantage of his elder stature by sleeping his days away. Rarely does the cat move unless there’s food to consume or a break for his litter box or a kid has found his hiding spot. He’s a lazy lump of fur, is what I’m saying.
For the past few weeks, however, he had been slurping up water like his tongue was on fire. And his litter box would need changed a lot more than usual with it. At first, I just chalked it up to being extra thirsty.
Soon, the vomiting began. Horrendous and vile and continuous every time he dared to stand. Grey Kitty turned wobbly and weak and was withering into a skeleton. Finally, I realized my almost 14 year old poor excuse for a mouser was just getting worse without help. As it turns out, not only did my cat have a tumor that needed removed, but he has diabetes.
My cat. Has diabetes.
Did you know cats can get diabetes? I didn’t. I continue to be bewildered by the disease.
Jedi appeared consoled at the news, a way for him to feel like he’s not in this alone. Because no child at his age truly wants to be different. If he has to get poked and injected with insulin, I’m sure it helps to know others who are going through the same. Even those who are unexpected, like his cat. I can’t help but wonder, however, is there something in the water around here?
June 10 2011
Pregnancy alters many aspects of a woman’s shape. Some, we’re prepared for. We’ve all heard stories of sagging and flabbing, so while we may fight against the odds, we also come to accept the possibility. The more confident amongst us even find strength and beauty in what their weight carried, wearing their 9 months of stretched skin with pride. While I can’t say I’m thrilled with the body I’ve acquired these years post-pregnancy, I am in awe of it. In both good and bad ways.
But it’s the other changes of a less physical nature. The kind that no one bothers mentioning ahead of time, making it your very own personal surprise.
Like underarm body odor.
Before my first full-term pregnancy with Jedi, I never had to wear deodorant. I would at times, for an extra measure of protection, but it wasn’t a necessity. I swear, they just didn’t smell. It was a blessed thing in hindsight. Because since, if I should fail to remember to apply deodorant, I’m immediately reminded of my blunder come one raised arm later when the depths of a burning stench, not unlike a skunk in a mode of defense, tries to escape. In other words, I stink. And God help us all.
There is no beauty in body odor.
Now, with the heat of summer comes sweat. And with the first bead of sweat comes an aroma all my own. Where every time I catch a nose-cringing whiff of myself, I’m once again reminded of the eternal joys of pregnancy.
