Thursday, May 26, 2011
The writing is on the wall: I'm a 34.5-year-old who has prehypertension. So did like everybody in my family and their mother (literally), beginning in their 30's; eventually leading to hypertension, heart disease, stroke, and an unfortunate, and not to mention hard-to-clothe tendency to accumulate fat in the middle and upper body while having narrow hips and scrawny legs for life. Shitty gene pool, what can I say. Oh, and I have high triglycerides, too, probably because I drink too much soda.
Anyway, I need to force myself to start running (all over again, like I did in my youth) so that I can shed a few pounds in order to bring these numbers down and hopefully live awhile longer. We'll see about quitting the soda - it's been a lifelong struggle to quit entirely. My plan is to set my alarm for 5:30am and get four 3-mile runs in per week for the next month, then see if my blood pressure has dropped. Ugh.
I really hate exercise. I hate even having to worry about my weight and my health statistics. That sounds childish, and it is.
In other personal health news, I started taking a generic form of 0rth0-try-cyclin' minus the placebo pill weeks, in the hopes that I could be period-free for months at a time. Let's just say it hasn't exactly gone according to plan. Two days ago, my uterus decided it wanted to shed a crapload of lining in the middle of my damn cycle. This shit hurts, and it brought me back to my junior high days of staining white pants unexpectedly. Fuckity fuck fuck.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
DH and I went to a party recently with a bunch of married couples. Among them were I and M, who are a married couple with 4 daughters. I and M have been married for about 14 years and now have an Obviously Dysfunctional Relationship. Not the kind of dysfunction involving anything one might ever feel the need to report to the authorities or anything, just enough passive aggressive tension and spite to fill an entire episode of Dr. Phil (and to take that cloying shine right off his scary white teeth, too). Let me give you a flavor.
At the party, I goes over to DH and one of my girlfriends, C, and starts in about his wife M's incessant nagging of him; how M is a bon-bon-eating SAHM who is constantly out with the girls while he busts his ass working (sorry, I, not true - M is constantly doing Kid Stuff, like schlepping her passel of kids around to way, way too many activities, but I digress)... and his little diatribe goes on to the point where it all gets reeaaallly uncomfortable for DH and C, as they eventually realize I is 1) not at all joking, not even a little bit, and 2) has NO IDEA how socially-inappropriate he is being, and how everyone feels about it. (Granted, I'm not the world's most socially-appropriate human being ever, but well, it takes one to know one I suppose.)
Then I heads over to another group, including M (!!!), and repeats the same conversation/diatribe to a new group of innocent bystanders, including yours truly. M handles it as gracefully as possible, kind of disses him playfully, and ignores I for the rest of the night. Later I ask M if she's ok, and she denies that anything is amiss or bothering her (which I don't believe for a nanosecond.)
A few days later C calls me up and eventually gets around to her main reason for calling: after what went down at the party, she was trying to figure out if I is a total dick or if she's taking crazy pills. I assure her that I is a total dick - and we bond over that for a minute. I've always thought one of the best beginnings of a friendship is disliking the same people and things.
Then when DH and I finally have a date night to ourselves, DH brings up I's party commentary, and says he feels like he needs to say something to I about it. He rehearses a few things with me, and we come up with something like a bottom line: "Dude, at that party you chose to make your marital problems public, and you talked shit about your wife in front of her friends who happen to like her a lot, and it was totally awkward, and we're worried about you guys...WTF, man?" (My guyspeak is not very fluent, but that's the gist of it.)
Then DH said, "you know, I really think therapy would be good for them. It turned things around for us." Amen, honey! We learned how to put the fun back in dysFUNctional.
And then DH says, "M needs to hang around with you a little more so she can learn to be bitchy in a good way, because there is no fucking way you would have ever let me get away with disrespecting you like that in public. You would have been like, 'Excuse us everyone, we need to leave now,' and you would have dragged my ass out of there, and I would have dreaded the ride home..." Um, thank you, DH? But he's right - that does sound exactly like me though - all sweetness and light. ;)
Then we talked a bit about maintaining boundaries around friends' issues - such as how do you draw the line between giving unsolicited ass-vice that will 9 times out of 10 be disregarded anyway, and making an observation that might actually open the door to a welcome conversation. Like in this example, "Dude, I, it seemed like M was really on your last nerve at that party...." and see where that statement takes the conversation?
What would you do?
Saturday, May 21, 2011
It is nearly 5pm local time on 5/21 - Rapture Day according to some of the local X-ian fundies and their learned radio demigods. Um, nope, no Rapture yet here in Podunkville.
One of the best bumper stickers ever = "After the Rapture, Can I Have Your Car?" Not a lot of people around here think that's funny.
I loved "The Week" Magazine's reporting of Rapture Day, under "Good week for: The human race, after the world did not end of May 21, as Christian radio broadcaster Harold Camping had predicted. [Editor's note: We filed this item several days early, but will print a correction if it's wrong.]" Brilliant.
I think I'll spend the rest of Rapture Day playing with my kids. Could be my last few hours on Earth - I suppose that's a true statement regardless of anyone's crazy apocalyptic predictions. May as well be doing stuff everyone in the family will enjoy at least a little bit. Lately, the kids have really been enjoying watching The Ladybugs' Picnic - some wonderful, old school "Sesame Street" fare.
Happy Rapture Day, y'all!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
So, I think it is safe to say that just about everyone's kid is a little super-genius... sometimes, and in some way. Maybe even all the time. I'm sure we all have moments when our kid says or does something outrageously precocious - and hey, feel free to share those moments in the comments.
What do you do when you have acquaintances who makes statements like: "OMG, your kid just READ that?!" "He just wrote his own name?!" "He's way more advanced than my neighbor's little boy who is a year older than him." But in your heart of hearts you think it's all just average behavior. Nothing too special. Just the types of kind of things you'd expect from a kid born to a mother who was over age 30, and living in a home with a lot of books. (Gratuitous "Freakonomics" reference.)
Is the proper response, "Thank you." ??
Or do you dare venture into Keeping It Realdom, where you completely disabuse them of their inflated notions of your child's super-extra-specialness? Sometimes I totally want to. But sometimes, just as I'm about to open my mouth, DS makes a crazy horrible impression the very next minute, and suddenly they go back to seeing him for the wonderfully average 3.5-year-old he truly is.
It cracks me up that this exact same child has on the one hand had people sincerely recommend we take him in for a developmental evaluation because he wasn't talking to them, which made them conclude he couldn't talk at all (my son told me later "she was not a nice lady," that's why he wasn't talking to her); and then on the other hand, we've had some total strangers (who don't have kids/have adult kids I might add) tell us they're just blown away by his perceived amazing intelligence.
My conclusion? Context matters.
We can't all be super-geniuses all the time. But we can have moments of brilliance. Followed by moments of crushing defeat.
SES stuff matters. (understatement of the year, that one.)
I really don't think intelligence at age 3 equals intelligence permanently for life, but it sure seems like society does.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
On Tuesday, we all leave for my parents' home 2 times zones away from Podunkville. Two days later, DH and I will fly off to Vegas for our first trip together without either one of our kids in tow since becoming parents 3.5 years ago! It will be three days of blissful sleeping in, doing the deed, and eating and drinking to excess. And spending some quality time with 2 other temporarily child-free couples meeting up with us there. Hooray!!
Honestly, I am much more worried about my parents actually surviving the 3 days alone with our kids than I am about how our kids are going to manage the separation. I know the kids will be fine - they adore Grammy and Papa, and ignore us completely whenever they're around (which we LOVE!).
DH also just got Skype set up on his mobile, so we should be able to keep in touch the way the kids most enjoy keeping in touch.
I just found and filled out a "Temporary Delegation of Parental Powers" form on the internets, that is valid in the state they'll be visiting, which basically empowers my folks to stand in our official parental shoes should anything go wrong. Scary thought - but hopefully now that we've planned for that eventuality, in reverse Murphy's Law fashion, it now won't happen.
On May 3rd, I plan to pick up "Dead Reckoning," the new Sookie Stakhouse novel by Charlaine Harris. Should be an ideal vacation read, and will whet my appetite for the upcoming Season 4 premiere of HBO's "True Blood" in June.
See you back here in a week or so!