We are the "us" of the neighborhood

We have always had the most, shall we say, informal yard in the neighborhood.  We do keep the grass cut and have beautiful azaleas and stuff.  But we have never been successful at having a perfect, weed-free lawn and sculpted flower beds.  I am not sure if it is because we don't care, or don't try, or are not capable.    I really don't know.

I know that when Nick and I are out driving, if we  are driving through a "perfect yard" neighborhood, there is inevitably a yard that is not as well kept up.  We always say that they are the "us" of their neighborhood.

So where am I going with this?   Well, it's kind of like this;  I always want things to be better.  I want the house to be cleaner, I want my closets to be more organized , I want the yard to look good.  When I look around, I see the things that "need" to get done.  I get sad sometimes because I feel that I will never have the elusive whatever it is I imagine I want.  I want my house to look like a magazine- both inside and out.  Just like I want my body to- but that's another story.

I am outside in the back yard several times a day with the dog.   Every time I go out I see the mess of it all.   It overwhelms me.  I have spend many long hot hours working in the yard and getting poison ivy to show for it.  I haven't have a strong enough desire to make it nice, to actually do the work.  I think about hiring someone just about every day.  I have hired people in the past and had beautiful work done.    Then a part of me feels guilty spending our money on that.

This last week, Austin did a lot of cleaning up in the back yard.   Yet, every time I have gone out there, instead of noticing all the work that has been done, I focus on what still needs to get done.

Something has changed and I am finding myself, sometime not easily, trying to see the positive.   When I was outside yesterday doing my usual critique in my head, I noticed some really nice things.  The azaleas in the back are getting ready to bloom.  The rose bushes that Carol and Nick gave me last summer are looking good and healthy.   The climbing hydrangea on the back fence is really "climbing" all over the fence and looking great.

So, what I am doing is making myself look past the undone and see the done- the beauty, the good.   So we have some debris in the yard- hey, we have a yard.  How lucky is that?   We have a house.   Is is not perfect and never will be.   But we do have a home.

I get so caught up on the fingerprints on the door frames and the dishes sitting in the counter waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher.  But, hey, we have walls.  We have appliances.  We have clean (enough) water and more shelter space than we need.

We have cars so we can get to places.   And we have places to go.

Yea, our materiel needs are met.  But somehow I feel a lack anyway.  I need to look beyond the torn upholstery and realize how lucky we are to even have furniture.

I am trying.  I have to constantly catch myself and look beyond the things that need fixing and fix my expectations.

This week in Boston has been a real upsetting and tense time for the whole country.   There were two devices blown up during the Boston Marathon.  There were three deaths then and two more later- the later being an MIT police man, and the other was one of the bad guys on the run. The second and probably last of these men was arrested and is critical care unit at the hospital.

The youngest of the two men was finally captured last night.   I am glad he was captured.   I know that he is responsible for death and mutilation.  I have no idea what would make a brain think that this is okay.  Or, of not okay, how would you even think of doing these things.

And yet I feel sad for the younger guy.  He is only 19.  His life is ruined.  He was, according to teachers and friends, a nice and very smart guy and a good student.  I have seen pictures of him, and I cannot vilify him.  I just wish he had remained an anonymous person in my little corner of the world.  Maybe he could have become a doctor and saved people's life instead of destroying them .  He's just a kid, and I am sad.

And I am falling asleep at the keyboard now.

Nite nite

now back to your regularly scheduled program

AuntNancyKnitsBaby Hats

Friday night at almost midnight

I have been thinking and thinking about writing here for the last few days, or nights whatever.  Usually, when I am trying to get to sleep I start to think about what I have to say.   How is it that I am so clever and profound when I am not at the keyboard.  And when I sit here I struggle?   I guess that's normal.

I spend [way too much] time on Facebook, and see mentions and pictures of places we have lived.  I get wistful.  There was a picture of snow falling in a street light in Tromso, Norway the other day.   I commented on how I remembered not being able to see the house across the street when it snowed hard when we were living there.

There was a short video of Thailand I saw and I thought back to how much time we spent there.  First, two years in Bangkok, where Courtney was born.  Then, three years later, in Chiang Mai.

And of course there's Perth, Western Australia.   I see pictures of WA (Western Australia) and I feel a little bit homesick.

I never really thought much about having a "bucket list", but I guess I really do have one.  I want to go back to every place we have lived overseas.   The place we lived in Bangkok had been knocked down, but I still have friends in the city who I would love to see and possibly stay with.  I am pretty sure our old house in Chiang Mai is still there.  So many of my "old" friends are too.

And on and on.  There are more places that we lived too.  I'd like to visit them as well.   But the places I mentioned just now have a special place in my heart.

Thailand because my first child was born there.  And when went back three years later, I lead my first La Leche League group there and made some friends for life.

Norway is special because my roots are there.  I feel that my soul is in the air and the soil of Norway.   My grandfather and those before him are buried there.  And of course, my third child was born there.

Perth, well, when we went there, all of the kids were in school and I got to be a "grown up" diplomat's wife for the first time.  I got to dress up and wear high heals and feel beautiful.  I got to undress and go to the nude beach and feel wonderful.   we had some rough times there as a couple, Nick and I.  But the place was so beautiful.  The people so real.   I was connected with the breastfeeding community as a lactation consultant and as a LLL Leader.  I got to play many roles and loved it.

I didn't mention Hong Kong and China,  I have friends (again through LLL) in Hong Kong.  They were there when I visited before my last baby was born.  And they were there for me when my last baby was born unexpectedly 8 weeks premature in Hong Kong.  Some of them who still live there have done wonderful things to promote and change the breastfeeding culture for the better.

And now, I need to get to bed.   I have loads more to write, but it will have to wait.

Happy Easter

Had Easter dinner with my 95 year old mother in law.  It was nice to see her- haven't seen her in a while.  I wish I was feeling better so I could have been better company.  

I have double ear infections and had/ have a headache.   On antibiotics, but I am not sure they are working.  I may call the doctor again tomorrow.


Thinking about Easters past.  We have sure colored loads of eggs, and made baskets for the kids.  One year my mother bought some cute Easter baskets for the kids.  A friend of hers made them- they looked like bunnies (sort of).  Thing is, we had 4 kids when she got them, so when we had Chance, I made a matching one for him.

The year Morgan was born (1981), I was living with my in-laws for a few months.  Courtney and I got to color eggs with Grandma and Grandpa Sherwood.  I remember Grandma Sherwood (my mother in law) hiding eggs in the yard for Courtney and then helping three year old Courtney find the eggs!
We also went to my brother's place and colored eggs with him and my sister.  

And I think about the fact that my brother was born on Easter Sunday.   I know that was special for my parents.

Something I read today in a "residents comments" book:  "alas, the demise of a perfectly good hot dog due to the lack of baked beans"

Where has the time gone?

Ruth with her father and her older brother, George

A girl and her chickens!

Grandma Ruth meets her first great grandchild

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If you had a do over, what would you change?

Earlier today I posted on Facebook that I wanted a "do over".  I want to know what to do and how to help someone in  my family who is having a hard time  I know what it feels to be depressed and unsure exactly what to do that doesn't let anybody down.

Life can be hard.  Trying to figure out what you want to do and how to do it.  It's hard.  Where do you start?  How do you put that first foot in front of the other.

Now I know that most of us do just that.  We get up and go to work and take care of our families.  We somehow know, or have learned what to do.  We may not always love what we do, but we are able to see it as a means to an end.  Work long, sometimes boring tedious hours with a view to having the rewards of a home, a family that is secure and not needing for much.  Yes, there are rewards, and I guess there is the grunt work that gets you there.  With the ultimate view to being old enough to retire and rest, or travel, or work on home and yard improvements.   It's hard to see that far ahead  when you are in your twenties and don't have the world view and experience that you acquire with years.

When the kids were little and all living a home, I sort of knew what to do.   I could talk about their dreams, and listen to their thoughts.  Nick and I were their rocks.  We were behind then no matter what.

They all learned to read and write and ride a bicycle and eventually drive a car.  Nick spent evenings packing brown paper lunch bags, each with a child's name crayoned on it to make sure everyone got the right lunch.

Getting the kids out the door, teeth brushed and lunch bags in hand was something of a Chinese fire drill.   Nick got the early kids- middle school and high school, out the door before leaving for work.  I got the later kids, the elementary school kids our the door later.

As soon as Nick and the kids were gone (seems that there were lots of years where at least one baby was with me),  would start my chores with a cup of coffee.   I seem to recall that I had a routine.  Clean off the kitchen table and take care of the dishes.  We ran the dishwasher twice a day when all five kids were still at home.   Next came getting the laundry downstairs and sorted and washed.   I am sure I did at least 15 loads a week.  Plus, for many years I washed diapers three times a week.

On Friday I would change all the bed sheets, the towels and generally clean and vacuum so I didn't feel over loaded with chores  on the weekends.

Afternoons when the kids came home there were almost always snacks.  Cookies, either oatmeal or chocolate chip.  Sometimes banana bread or cupcakes.  And most often, cut up veggies and dip.

It all sounds so idyllic, so Little House on the Prairie.  Well, no, it wasn't.  I was very busy with La Leche League work.  I spent a lot of time on the phone talking to new moms- this was pre-internet.  I would meet with other LLL Leaders and moms.  I did a lot of administrative work. There were moms and their nursing kiddos here a lot.

I used to get frustrated because someone had forgotten to clear the table, or had set it not quite right.

The kids messy bedrooms drove me crazy.  I told the kids that they were their own rooms and they didn't have to worry about sorting them out.  But sometimes it just had to be done.   

When I was a kid, I had posters and stuff on my bedroom walls like any teen.  My mother made it clear to me one day when my room was a mess, that it was NOT my room.  It was her and my dad's house and it was their room.   That made me so unhappy and confused, and sort of like the man without a country.  If my room was not my own, what was it.  So I tried to do better than that.  Though every so often I would crack and claim that it was a fire hazard and had to be cleaned.

I even invited the Fire Marshall in to inspect and tell the kids how bad their rooms were.  The main thing that that came  from that visit was being told that we have too many books in the basement and that the real fire hazard.    Oh well.

What happened today was mainly, things didn't go as planned.  I went to the gym [as planned].  Was planning to go get my oil changed in my car, and then make a home visit to see a new mom.

But, when I got home, the appointment that had been made had to be cancelled.   Everyone felt bad, but that's what happened.   I was too concerned and a bit overwhelmed with still having the mom thing to do so I didn't get my oil changed or go help this new mom.

The day is about done.  We all had dinner together, cooked by son Austin.  It was good to reconnect and talk about ideas and ways to make our lives better.

I have really learned about patience the last few years.   With young babies and toddlers, patience is sort of a given.  When you try to rush with a diaper bag and a little  one in diapers and the other in training pants, it does not work.  The diaper bag spills.  The toddler pees the training pants.  The baby wants to nurse, and then proceeds to barf on your clean shirt.

But when the people you live with age and mature, you do get impatient because you expect them to be mini "you"  (or bigger as the case might be).   With teens you yell because if you don't, you are likely to be half way down the street before you remember that someone was in the bathroom running the hair dryer.

And then they become adults.  And it is hard not to talk to them like the baby/kid/teen/ young adults you have know since before they were born.  Now there are adult people who needed to be treated as adults.  Yet, we are still their parents.  We are still here if they need a shoulder.  Or if something exciting happens in their lives.   

Sometimes they really want our advice.  Most of the time they want us to be pleased with them and proud of the people they have become.  We try to offer suggestions and guidance, not a shove (unless you think it might help)

It was a long time before I had a healthy, adult relationship with my mother.  The last few years of her life, while physically rough for her, were the best in terms of us being able to enjoy each other and talk to each other lovingly with no harsh judgement.

March 29, 2013 marks the ninth anniversary of my mother's death.   I held her hand as she took her last breath.  Funny how life works out.

Poke me with a fork... I'm done

Some sort of baby boom is going on in the Washington, DC area this month.  I have been busier than I have ever been as a lactation consultant.  I love it.  More often than not, I start a visit with a worried, tearful mom and I leave with the mom smiling and confident.   I am good at what I do.   I have probably written about that before.

Then there are the times when I leave the mom with so much to ponder and so many things to correct that she is not so happy.  After a few phone calls and maybe another visit, it works out.  Today I visited one of those moms.  Her baby needs some work getting his latch right, and possibly some intervention (frenulum clipping).  So despite all of our efforts, I left a mom with more ammo so solve her problems, but without a quick fix.

I feel so bad when I cannot help a mom find immediate relief.   I guess I really do care.

Today I went to Silver Spring, MD.  After my home visit, I decided to drive around a bit.  I grew up on that side of the Beltway, so I wanted to see what had changed and what had stayed the same.   I took a few pictures that I will put up later.

Pretty much everything has changed.  The building that were there when I was a  kid, and still exist, have different businesses and companies in them.   There is no evidence of the Singer sewing machine store for instance.

I made my way to the neighborhood where we lived for eight years of my childhood.  Not the first time I have done that, but it is stranger and more unbelievable as time goes by.

I went to a new yarn shop in Wheaton.  I'd been there before, and wanted to go again since I was there anyway.  I was reminded of a "fiber festival" in Vienna, VA that I had planned to go to.  So I went there next.

After that I went to Costco, which as everyone knows, is the last place you should ever go on a weekend.   It was really crowded!

By the time I got home, I was exhausted, dehydrated and feeling dizzy.  I remembered that all I had for lunch was a soda and a candy bar.   My ear has been bothering me on and off, and today was one of those on days.

A lot of the time I was out, I was thinking and stressing about the dinner we were supposed to go to this evening.  And I was stressing about the things I always stress about- chores.  There is always work that needs to be done both in and outside of the house.  I often feel like I am the only one to notice it.  Or at least the only one to care.   Nick does a lot, but nobody cleans bathrooms or empties all the trash cans on trash night,  vacuums, or cleans inside the microwave unless I ask then to.  I guess I should be glad that they do it then.

But I hate being a taskmaster. I really hate asking for "help".  How is it help?  Why do I think of it that way?  I am not the only one here.  I am the one who is bothered though.  I am sure that contributes to why I am sick.  And why I am depressed at times.  And even to why I have weight problems.  Yes, stress can do that.

Ok, I have to get my tired self to bed now.

An amazing story

I have been following this story and want to share it here.  It is about a baby who sustained a severe head injury and how breastmilk has helped her recovery.  The doctors and her parents were about to say goodby to this precious little girl until her lactation consultant, aunt stepped in.

I like this

Am I falling behind?

Almost every day I tell myself that I am going to write on my blog.  Then I don't.  Then I feel like I have not gotten my homework done.  That's not the idea.  That's not what I had in mind when I started this blog.

I have been incredibly busy with lactation calls this past week or so.   And with health stuff too.

The moms I have helped with breastfeeding are a very international group.   I helped a Korean mom and baby, a woman from Pakistan, and her baby.  A new mom from Morocco with her baby, and her family, all of whom spoke to each other in French and Arabic, neither of which I know.    Saw a Polish mom with an American husband and a beautiful new baby girl.    And a mom from Senegal.

Today I went into the office at The Breastfeeding Center of Greater Washington and worked seeing moms and babies there.  It's the first time I have done that, and I really enjoyed it.  The families I worked with today were Indian mother, a Nigerian mother, and American partners.   I love the concerned fathers, not knowing how to help, but desperately wanting to.  And the grandmothers all have my heart.  Often the grandmothers don't speak any English, but I connect with them.  I see how much they love their daughters even more than they realized that they could.

Tomorrow (it's after midnight, so today officially) I don't have anything scheduled.  I know I will do laundry.  I will try to get to the gym.   I'll try to go visit my sister.  Maybe I will knit too.

I always think I want time to just sit and do nothing.  To just sit around all day in my pajamas and watch TV and knit.   But, then, when I have days like that, I feel lazy and slovenly and often depressed. 

Days like today and the other days this week, where I am driving all over the place and spending time with stressed, tearful new moms, I feel charged.  I help these moms.  Even if I cannot fix their problem, or they choose to do things differently that I suggest, I know that they feel better after our meeting.   I have been there.  I have cried from being overly hormonal after giving birth.  I have had sore nipples and engorged breasts, thrush and cracked nipples.  I have felt the uncertainty of my trust for my body to know what to do and to function they way I had expected.   I know that these moms are scared, exhausted, sometimes in pain, sometimes just overwhelmed by the power the responsibility for this small baby holds over them.  I have experienced these things.   I know that it can be difficult and for some women, impossible to overcome all of the problems and concerns.  I help women realize that they are not a failure.  They are a success by virtue of the fact that they care enough to seek help.  That if they decided that they cannot go on with breastfeeding, they are strong and capable and they need to redefine their own definition of success.

Yeah, I do all that.  I love being that person.   That mentor.  That mother. That teacher, and that helper.

What I wrote on Facebook today and more

I feel a bit of a rant coming on. I just saw a post with the picture of an overweight woman falling off a skateboard. There were all sorts of "jokes" about not allowing obese people to skate board, about how she ate too many nuggets etc. How is making fun of people because of their physical appearance not bullying? How is it funny? How is it not discrimination? I am overweight. I am tired of never being represented as anything but stupid or the brunt of a joke. How many people have I helped? How many have I affected and made a real difference in their lives? Hundreds, maybe thousands.

Do not bully. That is mean, so do not bully ANYONE. Weight, gender, race, stature, religion; if you ridicule anyone who is "different" than you in any of these ways, you are a bully. YOU really are. So stop it!

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I was so upset about the whole fat humor thing, I cried after I wrote this.  I got lots of positive feedback.  I really don't think that non heavy people have a clue .  Recently a friend and I were talking about the large number of heavy women at an event we attended.  My friend said "but they could do something about it".   Maybe they can.  Maybe they cannot.  Maybe they love themselves enough that it doesn't matter what anyone thinks.   

If I met someone who was very different from me, say an Orthodox Jew, I would never say "well they don't have to be that way.  They can change it".

I have been really in a deep, sad place lately, and the fat humor just threw me over the edge.  I am not "sad" in a way that is circumstantial.  I cannot just stop.   It is a part of who I am- like my blue eyes.   I am constantly working on my life.  Learning new things.  Helping new moms and dads and babies work more smoothly in their new rolls in life.

Knowing that I love and that I have love coming back to me keeps me going.  I have a very meaningful life and I know that I am a force for good.

But I am also me.   Sometimes my depression motivates me to do things and grow.  Sometimes it makes me feel like doing nothing at all.  What I need to learn is how to relax and "do nothing" without feeling guilty about it.

Happy Birthday to my Morgan.   He is 32, which means I have been his mom for 32 years (plus 9 months).

I am so lucky and I am blessed to have such fantastic children to love, who love me back.

I'm coming along

I have not taken any narcotic pain relief today.  Just the prescription strength Motrin.  I guess I am recovering from my oral surgery.  I still feel terribly tired, but I am sure that is part of the body's way of healing itself.

Before I had this tooth pulled (#30 for those of you who know what that means) I was a total wreck.  I have had so much trouble with this particular tooth.  So much pain and expense and procedures that caused more pain and the need to more messing around with the tooth.  Oh yeah.   I took Ativan before the procedure and after signing the papers.  Had laughing gas for the first time in my life.   I did not feel like laughing, but I didn't feel like I was about to jump out of my skin either, so I guess it worked.

There's more work to be done.  Preparation for an implant.  That sounds nasty too, but I can do it.

Then today I had an echo cardiogram (not related to my dental health).   The doctor's office was adamant that I avoid caffeine even though I could not find anything to support that.  The woman who did the echo said that there is no restriction on caffeine.  So I had a nasty headache for no reason.  Poop!

And then there's Buddy.  The beloved puppy.   Ah the joys of mothering a baby again.  The differences are obvious of course.  He is not a human baby.  And when my babies fussed at night, all I had to do was pull them close and nurse.  Yea for co-sleeping!  Now, Buddy does co-sleep with us.  But, at night (like around 4:00 am) he often will start to whine.  That's my indicator to either get up and let him out, or stay in bed and risk stepping in dog poop in the morning.  So I get up with him.   Oh well, he'll grow out of it (I hope).

The Barnes and Noble Books store near us is closing down tomorrow.  It's the only book store in Reston aside from the used book store that's been here for a million years.   It is so sad.  We are losing a place of value to the whole community.   B&N, I'll miss you!

My baby girl turned 35 on Monday of this week.  That means I have been a mother for 35 years.  Strange.  Amazing. Mind warping.   Yup.

My first born son and second oldest child turns 32 next Monday.   So many memories.  So many more to come....

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz

So sleepy.  I had a tooth pulled yesterday.  The tooth was infected and has been hurting and producing pus and making me sick.  Now I am just tired (read medicated) but I can feel a difference.


Having a hard time keeping my eyes open.  Maybe I will come back later.....

Post Valentine's Day

I just wanted to post pictures of the Valentine's Day cards Nick and I gave to each other.  I think we have been together long enough to think alike on some things.

 After sleeping together for over 40 years, we really do enjoy just that- sleeping- together!

Dear Reader, you have to figure out who gave which card to whom.

This has noting to do with Valentine's Day.  It was just something that struck me as funny!

The Graduate!

The Graduate

Happy Grad!

This is Buddy.  He graduated from his puppy class yesterday.  He is so smart!  So why doesn't he do everything he learned?   Because, he is probably smarter than me!









Earlier this week, Buddy and I went to the dog park.  We don't go that often, but when we do, we have a great time. 

This time when we went, we met one of Buddy's litter mates, Topaz.  What are the odds of that?  You can definitely tell that they are brothers.  They are almost twins!

Topaz on the left, Buddy on the right- in the red collar.

The Undertoad

What am I afraid of?  I have been asking myself this question and have a few answers;

I am afraid of losing people I love.   I have lost people.  Too many.  I guess it's normal to feel like this.  Like life can be unfair.  I mean, it is "normal" to lose your parents.  It is expected.  I just wish my mother had been able to have a longer, healthier life.   Seventy seven is not that old to me any more.  Just a bit more than 18 years older than I am now.   When she was my age, I am sure she never would have guessed she only had 18 more years.

I will be 59 in a couple of months.  My mother had her big, disabling stroke when she was 61.   I know that I am in better health than her.  At least I tell myself that I am.  I am overweight, and she was not overweight at the time of her stroke.   She was a heavy smoker and something of a drinker.  I don't smoke and rarely drink.   I try to eat healthy.  I go to the gym.   I tell myself that the odds are in favor of me being healthier than my mom for longer than her.  I hope so.

And of course, there's always Dale.  He is on my mind a lot.  Has been since the day he died.   He was 51.  That's too young.  His life had been so complicated and he had been through so much.  And then, in an instant he was just gone.  I know that took a lot of years from my mother.  Maybe from my sister and I as well, who knows.

But it's the undertoad .   That feeling of fear and anxiety that something bad can happen and you cannot do anything to prevent it.  This is what I feel at times when I think about my own adult children.  They are all strong, independent, intelligent and smart (not necessarily the same thing).  They are good at taking care of themselves.   But they try things that I never have.  I have not because I didn't think of it, or because the opportunity never arose.  Or I didn't want to.

Going to Burning Man is one of those things.  The first time one of my kids wanted to go, I said "no" after I found out how harsh the conditions were.  The son was 17 and I was able to say no.  The following year he was 18.  He went.  He had some scary experiences.  He came home.  He did it!  He survived and learned a lot about himself.  And now he goes back every year and comes back every year.

A daughter hiking on the Appalachian Trail alone was another one of those undertoad experiences.   I had confidence in her ability.  I just didn't trust the rest of the world to treat her kindly.

All of them snuggled in bed between their dad and I.  All of them nuzzled at my breast and shared moments of blissfulness with me.   Every one of them was attached to me, first at birth, as we lived in our "fourth trimester".  Later as I was "Mommy" and "Mama".   We went everywhere together.  They sat on my lap when I got my hair cut, or when I got my teeth cleaned.

Slowly, they started heading out the door in the mornings, climbing up on the yellow school bus and riding off out of my sight.  I always cried on the first day of school, even when I didn't have anyone going off to kindergarten for the first time.  They were taken from me and launched into a world I didn't live in.

It has gone as it is supposed to have gone.  They crawled, and walked, and ran, and weaned from my breast and from my always watching eyes.  Even from the eyes in the back of my head!

And yet, I can still sense them somehow.  I can smell that wonderful, sweet newborn smell.  I can feel the sweaty head as a nursing toddler falls asleep on my arm.

And the time spent in the car.  Taking them to their friend's houses because they couldn't drive yet.  Talking in the car.  Going insane when they all would fight in the car "he touched me".  Oh yeah, those were the days.

And teaching them to drive.  Each and every one.  Five times.  My poor daughter as the oldest had to take the brunt of my anxiety as I sat in the passenger seat tempted to grab the steering wheel (ok, I admit it, I did grab the steering wheel once).

And now I don't see them every day.  Most of my kids I don't see more than a couple of times a year.   We don't talk every day, or email, or write letters.  But we are still tight.  They are old.  Two in their 30s, the other three in their 20s.

I used to regret getting married at 18.  I never got to experience so many things my kids, and many if not most people have.  I didn't go away to college (though I did eventually graduate) .  I never had my own place.   Never had my own car until I was 50.   Never felt like I could just come and go as I pleased.   But you know what?  It is not important to me any more.  I don't care.  I don't feel deprived like I used to.  A lot of it comes with maturity.   It comes with realizing that what you have is pretty amazing.  The things I have done in my life and the people I have met and do meet, those are some of the things that are important to me now.

I only wish that somehow I could get an allotment of more than just one life time.  There is too much still to do and see and experience.   But I am satisfied even so.   I have a bucket list of sorts- that's for another day and another blog entry.

So, why do I experience the undertoad?  Because I have lived enough and experienced enough to have a very real grasp on the frailty of life.  I know that the world is a big wonderful, amazing place.  I also know that it can be a hard and harsh place.  Bad things can happen.  Good people can get hurt.

I cannot outlive any of my children.  No, that is absolutely not allowed.  There I said it.   That is my biggest undertoad.   My biggest fear of all.

Amen

Time

I was going to write something profound about time.   I have been thinking about time lately.  I Goggled "songs about time" and found hundreds, if not more.  

I guess what started me thinking about time was, going for a drive with Nick.  We were driving on a road we have driven on countless times.   We were taking about how it had changed- "remember when that was there" sort of thing.   I felt for a fleeting moment (there's that time thing again) like I was in the Time Machine.   I saw things as they had been and as they are and wondered what they will be next time I go past.  Or again in ten years.

I am sure most people ponder the passing of time.  How we change in appearance and ability.  Who hasn't said, or thought at least that they would love to be 18 again.    We are not 18.  But why?  Where did 18 go?   Where did all of the days and ages go?   Why do we change so much that we are, many of us, hardly recognizable after 20, 30, 40 or more years.   What happens to the sweet suckling babies we cared for and loved so much.

Maybe what I am asking myself is this:  why do *I* have to get old?  So many of my friends and close family (my sister and my husband) are older than me, so are more aware that I am or that perpetual motion machine called age.

As I said, there are songs about time.  Time in  a Bottle, Those Were the Days my Friend. Cats in the Cradle, If I Could Turn Back Time, and on and on and on.    Can't stop it.  Can't reverse it.   Can't control it.   It is confoundingly "there".   It just is.

And so, my hair is gray.  I look on Facebook at pictures of friends I have known for years, 20 years and more, and see, much to my surprise, they have gray hair too.  Oh no.  How did that happen?   How did they age so?  I guess it just happens.   My skin has lines and sags where I didn't even think about when I was much younger.

So where is this time machine taking me?   Where is it taking us all?

I was going to write something profound about time.   I have been thinking about time lately.  I Googled "songs about time" and found hundreds, if not more.  

It's Got to be the Weather

The weather has been nuts this winter.  Warm, hot, cold, ice, snow.  You name it we've had it.  The meteorologists are calling it a roller coaster of weather

This week, we had ice on the roads.  Some counties closed schools.  The Federal Government opened a couple of hours early.  It  sleeted frozen rain.   Then Tuesday it was sunny and bright and in the 60s.  Yesterday, Wednesday, it was in the 70s, but overcast all day and there was torrential rain in the afternoon and evening.  Today it was windy and in the 40s.   And there are predictions of snow overnight tonight.

Yesterday I had a terrible headache much of the day.  I was in total bitch mode, ready to bite of anyone's head that got too close.   I took Buddy (the puppy) to his doggy class last night and I was about ready to strangle him for chewing up his harness.  I was so mad and grumpy I didn't even want to be with myself, much less with a bunch of other puppy parents.    I did get over it, but wow!   I am glad I got through it without saying/ texting some of the things I was thinking!

This morning I woke up with a splitting headache.   I felt like I might throw up.   I had a meeting I had to go to, but was tempted to skip it because I felt to crummy.   Once I had some coffee and food I felt a lot better.  But now I am feeling the headache coming on again.  I almost never get a headache.

This afternoon I went outside with Buddy and felt the weather changing.  The wind was noisy, almost as if a plane was going over even when I knew one wasn't.

One of "my moms" called me.  She was having a rough evening.  Her 12 -week- old baby was crying for no reason she could figure out, ad her 2 year old was starting to get on the mom's last nerve as well.  We talked about barometric pressure and how it can really make babies fuss.    I think that our talk helped her understand, though I know that it's also true that mothers often need to talk to someone who will affirm their feelings and help them get through the rough patches.

In Norway, there were lots of nights I recall walking back and forth in the night, pacing with Darcy when he was very young.  I am sure it was the barometric pressure.  He was a sweet, easygoing baby, but there were those times when he just needed to be held up against my shoulder and walked.   A lot of the time I would push the sofa and love seat in the living room together and make a big bed that Darcy and I would fall asleep on.

Anyway, today I have not snapped at anyone.  I am feeling more mellow, thank goodness.

Going to watch TV and knit now.

What's on TV?

Nick and I spend a lot of time watching TV.  We always have- even before we got married.  I think it's kind of nice.  We enjoy many of the same shows and types of shows.    There are some that I have no interest in at all.  And some of the shows I watch don't interest Nick.  But for our main evening viewing pleasure, we tend towards British dramas and murder mysteries.   I think that when we were living in Australia, we got pretty good at understanding the accents.   Now, we have to put on the closed captions.   Some of the slang is hard to understand, and for some reason, mysteries seem to favor mumbling- British and American.

My Grandma Thompsen had a black and white TV for years.  When she got her first color TV, she called my uncle to say that the TV was broken.  She had watched Lawrence Welk  one week and the band was wearing blue jackets.  The following week, when they wore red jackets, she was sure that TV was messed up!  (she was Norwegian)

This is my Grandma Thompsen's sewing machine- minus the cabinet

It's funny, when we lived in Norway, we used to watch English language shows with Norwegian subtitles.   Or any other foreign shows.  We would watch French shows, for example, with Norwegian subtitles.   But the Norwegian kid's shows were in Norwegian and we enjoyed them just fine. 

When my mom came to Tromso, she would watch TV with us, and while she didn't understand the language, she could tell that the show was funny.  She said she understood my father better when she saw Norwegian humor.  I remember her saying "they are all like that.  I thought it was just your dad"!

In Bangkok, we rented a TV and there were only a few shows we watched.  They included The Time Tunnel, and Wonder Woman.  The English broadcast was on an FM radio station.  If the show happened to be on at the time that the radio station wanted to do the news, we had to listen to Wonder Woman speaking in dubbed Thai.  Pretty funny!

One funny thing I remember in Australia was Law and Order.  The Aussie way of saying it sounded to me like "Lore and Owdah".

Languages are funny.  The colloquialisms so often cannot be translated, but, once you know them, they make sense and help with expressing an idea or concept that cannot be expressed in English.  Problem with this is, Nick is the only one who knows what I mean!

Ok, it's getting late.  I have to go see what we are watching tonight.

Random Rambling

Pooh, the regal cat (1/20/13)

Tuesday we took Pooh to the vet.  He had broken off one of his bottom canine teeth.  If it had just come all the way out, I would not have been overly concerned.  But the tooth broke off leaving exposed nerves and jagged edges.

When the vet examined Pooh, he could tell that one of the top canines had a problem as well.  So we left him for the day to get taken care of.  Pooh ended up having five teeth pulled (extracted in Vet terms)  With the anesthesia, stitches and oral surgery, plus the meds he came home with, it cost a fortune.   Oh well, whet are you going to do.

Pooh is now on antibiotics and pain medicine and seems to be feeling much better.   For the record, Pooh is almost 14 years old.

Tigger is also in need of dental work, but he is not in any distress, so we will wait and save up money first.

Buddy the puppy is a real butt head.  He is as sweet as can be, but he tends to sneak off and poop in the house when he thinks nobody is looking.  As a result, whenever he is out of my sight I panic and go looking before it is took late.

When I take Buddy in the yard and, especially in the evening, he thinks it's playtime.  He will run around the back yard like a little black tornado!  But will he poop?  That is the question!

Also on the home front, Nick and I wanted to go for coffee the other day.  Greenberry's near our house is gone (turning into a small Thai restaurant).  We were not in the mood for our usual Starbucks.   So I found a place in Great Falls called Katie's coffee and deserts.  We had nice coffee there and saw that since it was afternoon, lunch was also being served.  The fish and chips looked wonderful!

And there's Nick looking up from his newspaper at Katie's Coffee Shop.







Morgan has started to market his wares on Etsy.   He has made some really nice jewelry and also has photos for sale.  Morgan is very artistic and it is fun for us parents and look at our son's artistic talents.http://www.etsy.com/shop/BrassyCat

I am toying with the idea of putting some of my knitting on Etsy.  Maybe

Darcy and Hannah bought a "prison bus".  Yes, that right- a prison bus.  It is short(ish) and painted white.    It looks pretty cool, and their plans for it sound good.  Here, I will let you read all about it  http://huzzahbus.tumblr.com/    And here is a picture that I "borrowed" from Darcy's Facebook page:  

I had a weird nap today.  I rarely take naps.   I might doze off in front of the TV sometimes.  This afternoon I was working on my computer and I started to feel really tired.   For whatever reason, I got into bed.  After a few minutes, I put on my C-Pap and was really sound asleep.  

The dog's barking is what woke me up.  At 6:30.  It was dark out and I assumed it was AM, not PM.  I could smell the oven and was afraid that there might be a fire.  When I saw that I was in my regular clothes, and not in my pajamas, I was really confused.

Got downstairs to discover that Nick was cooking dinner.  I enjoyed it and sat down and ate and watched Jeopardy.

I have been up for hours now.  I was afraid I would be up all night, but I am too tired and plan to get into bed as soon as I hit the hay, I will think I am just that tired.

So good night for now! <3 <3<3

Inauguration

Nick and I watched the swearing in ceremonies this morning.  Very nice and a happy occasion.

The sun has started to hide behind some clouds, and the temperatures are falling.  It's winter!

I am feeling better than I did yesterday.  I figured out why I had heartburn.  I take medications every day.  Yesterday, being Sunday, I sat and filled p my little dosing box with my medications for the week.  That included my medicine for reflux/ heartburn.   When I went to take my medicine this morning, I discovered that I didn't take my medicine yesterday.  Oops.  Silly me!

Going to the gym in a few minutes, then errands, then home.

While watching the inauguration this morning, Pooh (cat) and Buddy (dog) curled up on the couch next to me.  They were really cute!

Heartburn

I think someone wrote a book called "Heartburn" some time ago.  This, is not about that.  I have heartburn and it stinks and feels bad.

Earlier today, while sitting at my computer I opened a bag of sweet potato salt and vinegar chips.   I ate a few.  Then as I sat here I started to get heartburn.  Really burning.  I've taken a couple of different things that are supposed to help, so it isn't as bad as it was.  But it isn't great!

But, other than that, I am really okay.

Buddy!

It was a gorgeous day today.  Got up to the 60s I believe.  Nick and I went for a walk with Buddy.  We all needed to get out of the house.


 After that we went to Great Falls to find a coffee shop I found online.  Our old, occasional, favorite has closed down and is going to come back in its next life as a Thai restaurant.


So today we went to Katie's Coffee House.  It was hard to find at first, but then we figured out that it is attached to an Irish pub.    They were serving lunch, but all we wanted was coffee.  I saw people getting their food and it looked good.  Especially the fish and chips.   Boy would I love some fish and chips!  The only place I have had them gluten free is in Portland.  Ah well.

Actually, yesterday and today both had really good weather.  Yesterday I took the girls to Frying Pan Park- their mom asked if she could come with us, so she did.   It was not a hyper, exciting day.  It was a nice day of looking at the farm animals.  And we happened to arrive in time to watch a part of a horse show in the big barn.   Both girls took a lot of pictures.  A while back I gave each of them an old camera of mine.  They are good, digital cameras.  Not cheap ones, but some function I want is broken or something.  Anyway, they are good cameras for the girls.

I think their mom was surprised when I put on a CD of Australian music when we were driving.  The girls know all of the words to all of the songs.  Their mom hasn't spent the hours with me that the girls have, so doesn't know  all of our routines.

Tomorrow is a big day in the Washington area and for the country.   I plan to be a total couch potato and watch the inauguration on TV, while I knit, all day.

It is supposed to be sunny, but colder, and windy tomorrow.  There may be some few snow flurries in the later part of the day.  I am so glad I can watch it on our nice, color, big screen TV set!  I know that Nick and I will watch, and probably Austin.  Not sure if we will have company, but we'll be alright whether we have company or not.

Oh yeah, one more thing.  My son and his wife bought a white school bus.  It kind of looks like it may have been a prison bus.  Not sure?

Life

What is life?  I know, that's too profound.   Too hard to really measure.  In my women's group, and in groups all over the world, we are getting old.   It's funny that at 58 I a the youngest, old eldest member is 85.  I was worried about having somone that much older than me in the group.  I couldn't have been more wrong.

Oh sure, she has some of the infirmities that come with age.  But she takes it all in stride.   There isn't really any other choice, but my worries were unnecessary.

We all hear harder and we Don't know what it means to be old and why it means to get older and become a grown up.

I am going to post the the Websters Dictionary definition of then l  I would like to figure out is,   who says what's old? 
******************************************************************************

a : dating from the remote past : ancient <old traditions>

b : persisting from an earlier time <an old ailment> <they brought up the same old argument>

c : of long standing <an old friend>

2

a : distinguished from an object of the same kind by being of an earlier date <many still used the old name>

b capitalized : belonging to an early period in the development of a language or literature <Old Persian>

3

: having existed for a specified period of time <a child three years old>

4

: of, relating to, or originating in a past era <old chronicles record the event>

5

a : advanced in years or age <an old person>

b : showing the characteristics of age <looked old at 20>

6

: experienced <an old trooper speaking of the last war>

7

: former <his old students>

8

a : showing the effects of time or use : worn, aged <old shoes>

b : no longer in use : discarded <old rags>

c : of a grayish or dusty color <old mauve>

d : tiresome <gets old fast>

9

a : long familiar <same old story> <good old Joe>

b —used as an intensive <a high old time>

c —used to express an attitude of affection or amusement <a big old dog> <flex the old biceps> <any old time>

See old defined for English-language learners »

See old defined for kids »

Examples of OLD

1. He's an old man now.
2. We rented an old black-and-white movie.
3. There's an old saying that good fences make good neighbors.
4. a new approach to an old problem
5. She wore a T-shirt and an old pair of jeans.
6. I wish you would stop wearing that dirty old hat!
7. The hotel was old and dingy.
8. the oldest known civilization in the region
9. The house we live in is 50 years old.
10. We went back to visit our old neighborhood.

Nighttime Ramble

Here I am again.  I've been thinking about all sorts of things the last few days.   Been feeling sick- I think from the antibiotic I was taking for my root canal abscess.  I read about the possible side effects and decided to quit taking the stuff before I got sicker.

We went to the RV show at the Dulles Expo Center today.  It was neat to see all the fancy RVs, but it was too crowded.   Especially inside the RVs.  I wasn't inspired to lust after any of them.  I was pretty happy with the camping we did last summer at the KOA campgrounds all over the country.

I think about my kids all the time.  Even when we don't talk or write for a while. I am still very connected somehow.   I know the saying about having children is live having your heart on the outside of your body.  I know what that means-it means that you have a vulnerability you never could dream of or imagine without having children.  Really.    These people, all of them adults, are mine.  They will always be my children.  For the rest of my life.  

So much of my time and energy were sucked up when the kids were all living at home.  I cannot say one period was harder than another.   Although, I do think I am pretty good at mothering babies and knowing what to do and how and when.  When I had a preemie, my charmed life came to a jolting stop and a new reality of how to mother a little one.   And it worked out alright in the end, but I was so scared and worried that I was sure life would never be alright again.  That is the real reason I didn't have any more babies.  I would have loved having more babies, but at 36 and after getting my sick preemie well and healthy, I was afraid to push my luck any further.  

And I have been lucky.  Remarkably so.  

And now, I help other moms learn the ropes of early mothering.  Most of the moms I help, are working moms.  they will be going back to work when their babies are just 12 weeks old.  They will be alright and their babies will too.   I sometimes wish I could be a nanny to all of the sweet babies I meet.   I am really nuts!

And so my latest fixation has been knitting baby hats that look like breasts.   I have made two so far and am working on my third.  Not sure what I will do with them.  Maybe sell them on Ravelry?  Who knows.   I didn't have any active knitting projects, and I needed to have something to do with my hands while watching TV.   I cannot just sit there.  So, there you go.


I have been working on my family tree/ genealogy lately.  Nick subscribed to Ancestry.com , so I have been looking up records and connecting my grandparents with their parents and so on.  I found a copy of the document of my mother entering the US for the first time when she was just 6 weeks old.  I have copies of the US census for any number of years showing addresses of grandparents and aunts and uncles.   It makes the past so close and all of those real people even more real.

It also makes me miss people.  Especially my mom.  She could have told me so much.  She did tell me a lot, but not enough.  And both of my grandmothers told me about their families, but I didn't pay close enough attention and now all I have are scant memories and pictures of cemetery head stones with names and dates.

I also miss my mom just because.  She was 77 when she died, and that's not old enough.  She didn't get to live long enough and she really did want to live longer.   She loved me, I know that.   She used to sing to me when I was little, and give me butterfly kisses.   It's not a new sentiment- wishing you could turn back time.  But it is a real one.  

I guess that is part of why I think about my kids so much.  Not just because they are my kids, but I am their only mother.   I know I am important to them, and I know that they won't realize how important until I am gone-which I hope won't be for a long time.

I wrote here on this blog recently about being a mother and how I would have been a whole, complete person even if I had not had children.   That is true.  But now, I am getting older and Nick is too.  We are still going strong, but I don't want to buy into the perpetual denial our culture has "oh no, you aren't old".   We are not "old" yet, but we are aging.  We are past middle age.  I have wanted to be a grandmother for some time.  (no pressure kids, this is about me-really).   Now, of course if I had never had kids, I would not feel the desire to have grandchildren.

Why do I want grandchildren?   I guess it is the immortality thing.  It is also the feeling that if I was a good enough mother/ parent, my children would see the value in what I did and would desire the same things.  I hope I am not letting my self and my ego get in my way.

I have patience that I didn't have when I was a young mother.  I have stories to tell and fun things to teach.  Reading, playing cats cradle, making play dough.  Finger painting and making a loom from a piece of cardboard.  These are all things we did and I want to be able to share myself in the same way again.  But I am afraid that we may not have the energy and good health to be able to be the kind of grandparents I would like my grandchildren to know if too many years pass before the grandkids come.

My Grandma Thompsen taught me how to crochet.  She bought fruit and canned it when I was staying with her.  She dug potatoes right out of the dirt in her back garden!   I am so lucky to have been able to spend time with her and get to know her and see her and hear her with her strong Norwegian accent.

And my Grandma Rivers, well, she taught me how to make pie crust and how to knit.  She had a clothes line and she grew tomatoes in her back yard.  I planted the the first flowers I ever grew from seed right there by her back door.   What a thrill that was for 10 year old me!  My Grandpa Rivers was a carpenter.  He had a shop in his basement and he was always building things.  We all have spice racks he made.  Whenever he came to visit he brought his tools and worked on whatever needed to be worked on.  Yes, I remember him. 

My mom had a stroke when my kids were pretty young.  So they didn't get to know her as an active grandmother as I wish they had.  She had an abrasive personality that was not always nice for my older kids.   She got better in her last few years of life, but by then the older kids were grown up and too busy, and there wasn't much left that she could do with the younger kids.  At least they knew her and loved her.  And they knew she loved them too.  

Well, that's it for tonight.   

Drugs or Bugs- what's making me sick?

I have been feeling blah for the last few days.  Bordering on depressed.  Lethargic even.  Yesterday I sat in front of the TV all day in my pajamas.

Last night on my way to my women's group meeting I thought I was going to cry in the car.  I was just so blue.

Today I saw my psychiatrist who is never surprised at how much stress I have and says it would be understandable if I felt low.

Then I went to Joanne's Fabrics and had a close call.  I had a stomach attack- just fortunately, I knew where the bathroom was and I got there on time.

I went to my weekly Starbucks meeting.  Had some coffee and a snack.  Felt pretty good, but it is hard to feel bad when you are adoring a couple of newborns.   By the time folks were leaving though I was sure I was about to throw up.  I didn't.

I decided to look up side effects of the antibiotic I am on (for an infection in a post root canal root).  Well, I think I have figured out my problem.   I guess I am lucky I am not sicker.

Nick signed up for Ancestry.com (did I mention this in my last blog entry/).  It has been fun finding out about my Norwegian family.  I have even learned that my great, great grandmother is actually buried in Seattle.  I didn't even realize she had ever been in America!

Ok, on that note, nite nite sleep tight.

Sunday evening

It's been one of those weird days.  I woke up at about 5:30 this morning after about three hours of sleep.  I want downstairs- with the dog- and watched TV for a while.  Nick got up at 7:00- unusually early for him too.  At some point I fell asleep sitting up on the sofa, went back to bed and slept till 1:00.  When I woke up, Nick and the dog had both come back to bed with me and were both sleeping.

My jaw is hurting me.  I had a root canal a while back and it got abscessed and I had to have an awful thing called an apicoectomy.  Look it up if you are interested- it is too yucky for even me to explain.  I got my teeth cleaned last week (great hygiene by the way) and complained about the jaw/ tooth pain.  Looks like the root canal is infected again- which is not supposed to happen.  So I am a bit depressed about that.  I am on antibiotics and hope that will clear it up.  But I really doubt it.  I am not sure I can go through another apicoectomy.  Oh my.  Whatever.

Nick has gout, which most of the time is under control, but at the moment he is having a lot of pain from it.   Poor guy.  And the medication for it makes him sick to his stomach and dizzy.

I don't know if all of the ailments come with age, or just happen.   I have had more than my share of various exciting and exotic illnesses and surgeries, and I have never been as old as I am not (duh), so who knows.

So now for something light.  Bedtime is kind of funny in my bedroom.  When I am getting my pajamas on, Beta (fat, old, female cat) goes into my bathroom and sits there waiting for me.  She knows that I will come in and brush my teeth and go to the bathroom.  She considers this our "girl time", and she just stares at me and purrs.

Pooh and Tigger, old male cats, both get up on my night table to take turns getting a drink of water out of the beer mug that is placed there just for them.

Buddy, six month old male puppy gets on the bed and snuggles up between Nick and I.  If he is spacey/ tired, Buddy "digs" and goes around in circles to make the bed cozy for himself.

Now, lights out.  I put on my c-pap (a lovely sight indeed).  Next thing I know, Tigger is occupying my pillow, just above my head.  He pretty much purrs all night.   Now, Tigger never ever used to do this.  It started when Buddy joined the family.

And then there's poor Nick.  He has to put up with my tossing and turning until I get comfortable.  Actually, he usually sleeps through it all!

So, we started out in a double bed, just Nick and I. (oh yeah we did have cats and a dog when we got married- I forgot)
Then we added kids, one at a time.   Each gradually graduating from the family bed in time for another baby to fill in the space.  After about 20 years of sharing our bed with us, it was back down to just the two of us.   Now we are back to having a family bed, sharing with our new family of babies - a dog and three cats.   What's next?   I cannot imagine.

Nick and I had dinner at my sister's yesterday.  My sister gave me some family history on our Norwegian grandmother.  I've got quite a bit on my Norwegian grandfather (who I never met) but didn't even know we had anything on my grandma.  So now I have the genealogy bug biting at my curious self. 

I have a "to do" list that keeps getting either lost or longer, depending.  I don't feel like doing much of anything, but since I am still a sort of competent adult, I have to "do" things to take care of myself.  Like get check ups with the various doctors I have put in charge of the various parts of my body.  This week Ia m getting a mental health check up.  Woo hoo!   Then, I am way over due for the GYN, the GI doc, the pulmonologist and probably some others.  My eyes and teeth are taken care of for the time being.    Oh yeah, I need to see the chiropractor too.    I really should have gone to medical school so maybe I could diagnose and treat myself.  Nah.

Ok, time for season three of Downton Abbey! 

As usual, I am writing late at night.  It's not like I have little kids who have to get into bed so I can write.  It is just the lack of discipline on my part.

I remember, when the kids were little, 10:00pm seemed to be "my time".  I would sit and watch TV; China Beach, Thirty Something and whatever was popular.   It was nice to have some mindless time to myself before heading to bed .

I have been thinking of making my life somehow more structured.  Maybe even making a [loose] schedule for the things I want to get done. I do meet with a personal trainer once a week, but as often as not we end up changing our time.   Today I was not scheduled to go to the gym, but I did, just to get 30 minutes on the elliptical.   I should make a schedule that I impose on myself.  If I put this time into my schedule and onto my calendar, I am more likely to do it.

Same with Weight Watchers.   Yes, I am going to Weight Watchers.  Do I get to the meetings?  No.  Do I need to go to the meetings?  Yes.

I think I am somewhat ambivalent because, while I know that I am "overweight" and maybe (yes definitely) considered obese.  But I am constantly asking myself why it matters.  I do understand the implications and the risks of carrying this "extra" weight.  

But just once I would like to get through a day not thinking about it.  If I eat some fries or chicken, I would not have to think about how many points I have eaten, or how many minutes I need to spend on the elliptical.


I know that Nick thinks I am beautiful.  It's true.  I could be 300lb or 115 and Nick would just see me, the love of his life, the mother of his children, his life partner.  Why can't I see myself that way?

Everyone else just sees me as a fat lady when I walk into the room.  At least, that's how I feel.  I have somewhat gotten over the shyness about wearing my bathing suit in the pool.

I would love to run into an old friend and have them tell me I look great.   But I don't think many people can do that in all honesty.   Instead, my friends are surprised at how heavy I have become since our kids were babies together.   All of my friends have put on all the gray hair and wrinkles that should happen.  For the most part, even those who have not put on weight have had their figures shift a little bit.

But, why can't I just be me.  Fat, gray hair and all.   I think it would be really nice to NOT feel so self critical and not to worry about it.

It seems impossible, at least for me, to find anything at all fashionable and inexpensive that "big girls" like me can get away with wearing and I could look really good.  I often find myself thinking that I was born into the wrong century- at least body image and fashion wise. 

On another note, I bought two new chairs for my study.  They were deeply discounted at Best Buy.  My chairs were falling apart.  So, yea hurray!  More comfortable sitting for another day...

It's 2013!

I have been lounging around (lounging?) feeling a bit like Eeyore.   Sort of gloomy.  Not totally depressed, just not inclined to want to get up and do anything much.  Even getting out of my pajamas feels like something I don't want to deal with.

A part of it is my life long (or at least as an adult) feelings of guilt about "doing nothing".  I have always felt that one needs to be doing something of it is wasteful.  Wasting time when things need to get done.  Knitting while watching TV. Throwing laundry from the washer to the dryer and from the hamper into the washer in the midst of cooking dinner or cleaning house.

But, in general, I just don't feel like doing that stuff too much any more.  It is partly because I don't have kids and their messes to deal with.  And kids, well, you have to feed them and wash their clothes and stuff.      Also, when the kids were around I often would pain with them or make play dough or cut veggies or bake.   Do "mom stuff".  Nobody needs me in that way any more, and I guess that is part of my issue.

The lack of structure in our lives is a large part of it too.  We stay up too late- especially me.  Then I wake up either too tired to do much, or I sleep in and lose a big part of the day.

Today, Nick and I went for a drive to Leesburg and had lunch at Roy Rogers.  We always ate at Roy Rogers before we were married and even after we were if we had the money.  Of course, I cannot eat the buns on the sandwiches any more, but they are great without the bread too.

Then we drove out to Eco Village, a place we thought semi seriously about building and moving to a while back. we even had a deposit down, but we got it back.   Anyway, it was nice to get out and just be out of the house, looking at old farm buildings and new housing developments.

This evening I was lucky enough to come across a show on PBS about the Norwegian Coastal Steamer, the Hurtigrut.   We arrived in Tromso on the hurtigruta back in 1984.  We took it from Trondheim toTromso, a two day journey, with six year old Courtney and three year old Morgan, and myself hugely pregnant with Darcy.  (he was born just three weeks after we arrived).http://www.hurtigruten.us/Schedule/

Norway is so beautiful.  I was there as a small child of three, but don't remember that.  I grew up with a Norwegian grandmother with an accent none of my friends could understand.  We went there on our honeymoon in 1972.  Then we went to live there.   

I have been back a few times to visit family there as has my sister.  My brother in law was Norwegian.  Being half Norwegian by birth/ genes, I have such a feeling for the place.  It's like my soul is in the hills and mountains and trees and sky there.  The earth is in my deepest piece of my self.  

Watching the show made me remember what a breathtaking place we lived in.  It also made me sad.  Sad, because I have suffered depression so much of my life that I have never been truly about to become a whole part of where I lived.  I was always homesick.  Even though I have made life long friends all over the world, much of the time when I was there, I wanted to be here.

But I do have to say that our best Christmases were the ones overseas.  When we had our little nuclear family unit and no other stresses.

I think that the term "bucket list" is out of fashion.  But that is what I have.  I have several versions of it actually.  In all of my versions, I want to go back to all of the places overseas that we have lived.  I want to see the houses, at least the ones that are still there.  I would like to see and perhaps even stay with old friends and with family.  Now here's the hard part.  Nick would like to go to all of these places too.  But he has no interest in seeing any of the people we knew, or taking their hospitality and staying with them.  

And then there's the third version; we come into some money, or manage to save enough, and take all five kids to all of the places we have lived and show them.  Of course in my fantasy world they love  the idea.  They have heard about all of our travels and the places we have lived.  The older kids can even remember a lot.   The problem is, in reality, they would not probably want to make a trip like this.  Or if they did, they would be driven crazy hearing Nick and I say "that's where we...".  Nothing like being forced to relive memories that are not even your own.

And the forth version, which is a bit modified, involves going to Norway with my sister.  She and I have no problem contacting relatives and friends.  But I cannot imagine she would want to go to the other places we lived.  Oh well.

And now, off to bed. To the gym I go in the morning and the dentist in the afternoon.  What a day full of adventure!