I saw a woman driving her car today with not one, but two, poodles in her lap. Okay, maybe they were some other fluffy white dog, but still, she was driving while distracted. At least she wasn't on the highway.
I was behind a man in a Buick on the highway yesterday. I assumed he was a grandpa driver who was looking through the steering wheel to drive since his head was barely visible from behind. He was going slowly for the interstate. I passed him and realized that he was someone chilling to the rap music with his seat all the way back and extremely reclined. And yes, I could hear the music as I passed.
As someone who usually has one or the other child in my microvan, I am paranoid about folks who take driving so casually. I don't want you to be texting, talking, grooming or bonding with your pet when you are driving near me.
Having said that, I have built in Bluetooth and it has gotten a work-out in the last few months. I have had multiple phone conversations with our real estate agent whilst driving my children to various activities. I know research shows that hands-free does not equal distraction-free. The ironic thing is that I often make my kids observe radio silence while I am trying to park or navigate some weird lane confluence that the Seattle DOT has come up with. Hypocritical much?
And completely unrelated to all this: it was a beautiful winter day in Seattle today.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
I don't even want to write...
I keep thinking that if I write, I will make progress on something. I need a victory in my life. I need something to pull me out of the slump I am in.
I had a birthday earlier this week. It was a non-event. Really. The 8 year-old gave me an eraser. My sister took me out to lunch the next day. I scheduled a raincheck lunch with a friend.
Our house purchase was supposed to close the day after. It was an event that did not occur.
I am supposed to be organized for a move that should happen any day. I am not.
Our interest rate lock for our mortgage expires on Monday. We will owe more money after we close. I am numb to this, but the spouse is angry.
I am reading too many parenting books again. I have more on reserve at the library. My husband who does not read parenting books undoes all the parenting I do with his lack of patience.
The five year old still needs to be evaluated for speech therapy. I finally got a call about it. I have yet to receive the paperwork to fill out before he can be evaluated.
I am still behind in my duties as the treasurer for our co-op preschool. We are in the black, so I am not putting the school at risk.
My husband got a bonus and a "good job" gift certificate from work this week. He offered the gift certificate to me. It is not the same. I want someone to appreciate me. Screw enlightenment, I don't want inner peace and fulfillment, I want a Target gift card for doing all the mundane tasks that no one ever thanks me for.
I make coffee every morning. I pour myself and DH a cup every morning. Today, DH poured his own cup knowing it was the first cup of the carafe and didn't even bother to think I might want one too. Really? He had the grace to apologize when I asked him if he needed another cup of coffee as I poured my first. I think this incident just served to underline the fact that no one in my family notices me or my needs.
I don't even know what my needs are anymore. I've gotten really good at suppressing them. I think I will now drown my petty problems in chocolate.
I had a birthday earlier this week. It was a non-event. Really. The 8 year-old gave me an eraser. My sister took me out to lunch the next day. I scheduled a raincheck lunch with a friend.
Our house purchase was supposed to close the day after. It was an event that did not occur.
I am supposed to be organized for a move that should happen any day. I am not.
Our interest rate lock for our mortgage expires on Monday. We will owe more money after we close. I am numb to this, but the spouse is angry.
I am reading too many parenting books again. I have more on reserve at the library. My husband who does not read parenting books undoes all the parenting I do with his lack of patience.
The five year old still needs to be evaluated for speech therapy. I finally got a call about it. I have yet to receive the paperwork to fill out before he can be evaluated.
I am still behind in my duties as the treasurer for our co-op preschool. We are in the black, so I am not putting the school at risk.
My husband got a bonus and a "good job" gift certificate from work this week. He offered the gift certificate to me. It is not the same. I want someone to appreciate me. Screw enlightenment, I don't want inner peace and fulfillment, I want a Target gift card for doing all the mundane tasks that no one ever thanks me for.
I make coffee every morning. I pour myself and DH a cup every morning. Today, DH poured his own cup knowing it was the first cup of the carafe and didn't even bother to think I might want one too. Really? He had the grace to apologize when I asked him if he needed another cup of coffee as I poured my first. I think this incident just served to underline the fact that no one in my family notices me or my needs.
I don't even know what my needs are anymore. I've gotten really good at suppressing them. I think I will now drown my petty problems in chocolate.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
One year later...
It's been a year. A year since I've had a paying job. A year since I got off a plane in rainy Seattle with two tired boys in tow. A year since I walked into Trader Joe's behind our rental condo and was shocked at how tall and white everyone was.
And a year later, I miss not working. I volunteer at the YMCA. I work my parent hours for my 5 year old's co-op preschool. But I don't get paid. I hate not being paid. Money gave me validation that "thank-you" and "see you next week" do not.
And a year later, my boys are bigger, but are not any less challenging. The 5 year old needs to be evaluated for speech therapy. I just thought he couldn't enunciate clearly because he didn't speak English until last year. But after his pediatrician and his preschool teacher both thought he needed help, I have started making phone calls. In the meantime, he solves his communication problems with his fists and by willful disobedience. I spend my evenings reading more parenting texts.
And a year later, we are still in the condo, but hoping to close on a house on 2/28. The builder wants to push the date out, but doing so may cost us not only money, but a chance to get DS2 into the same elementary school as his brother. So we are keeping the pressure on to make that date.
And a year later, I still get hormonal and weepy. I hate being a woman if it means my hormones turn me into a sobbing mess. Yesterday was the worst, and yet, I couldn't tell you why it was any different from other days. DS2 and I had been in a pissing match in the morning, which isn't unusual. I dropped him off at preschool, for my 2.5 hours of free time. And I promptly fell apart. I tried chocolate. I tried a nap. I tried music. But all I did was weep and berate myself for my inability to get anything done. It was not a good day, but like a toddler after a temper tantrum, I fell asleep really fast last night.
I have more I need to write, but I will save it for a different post.
And a year later, I miss not working. I volunteer at the YMCA. I work my parent hours for my 5 year old's co-op preschool. But I don't get paid. I hate not being paid. Money gave me validation that "thank-you" and "see you next week" do not.
And a year later, my boys are bigger, but are not any less challenging. The 5 year old needs to be evaluated for speech therapy. I just thought he couldn't enunciate clearly because he didn't speak English until last year. But after his pediatrician and his preschool teacher both thought he needed help, I have started making phone calls. In the meantime, he solves his communication problems with his fists and by willful disobedience. I spend my evenings reading more parenting texts.
And a year later, we are still in the condo, but hoping to close on a house on 2/28. The builder wants to push the date out, but doing so may cost us not only money, but a chance to get DS2 into the same elementary school as his brother. So we are keeping the pressure on to make that date.
And a year later, I still get hormonal and weepy. I hate being a woman if it means my hormones turn me into a sobbing mess. Yesterday was the worst, and yet, I couldn't tell you why it was any different from other days. DS2 and I had been in a pissing match in the morning, which isn't unusual. I dropped him off at preschool, for my 2.5 hours of free time. And I promptly fell apart. I tried chocolate. I tried a nap. I tried music. But all I did was weep and berate myself for my inability to get anything done. It was not a good day, but like a toddler after a temper tantrum, I fell asleep really fast last night.
I have more I need to write, but I will save it for a different post.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Word of the Year
I'm looking back at 2011 and I realized that I never posted my 2011 word of the year. It was Big. Yup, pretty uninspired, but at the time I was looking at big changes in my life. I was living with my MIL, giving up my jobs and life in Japan and starting again in Seattle. I thought Big would do it for me. I have not really heeded my word this year. I have lived small. And not in a good way.
So, 2012 awaits and I'm already thinking about this year's word. Right now it is a toss-up between make-up and re-make. Make-up was the strong leader until about an hour ago when I started washing rice and drinking mimosas. Re-make seemed better when served with orange juice.
Here's the logic. With make-up, I was thinking "make-up stories, make-up for lost time, make-up with folks I might be not exactly estranged from, but needing to touch base with." We are moving into a new home in two months and make-up seems we should be "Making things move up." Especially since we can move out of the rental condo and make our new house our home.
So why did re-make sneak in there? There is this part of me that doesn't like the fact that make up can also be cosmetics. Let's face it, I'm a minimal or none cosmetic kind of gal. Make up annoys me.
So, for that very reason, MAKE-UP is my word of the year. It embodies all the ideas I want to embrace and it also hones in on one of my vulnerabilities, my insecurities about my appearance. If something bugs me that much, I probably need to take a look at it.
So, 2012 awaits and I'm already thinking about this year's word. Right now it is a toss-up between make-up and re-make. Make-up was the strong leader until about an hour ago when I started washing rice and drinking mimosas. Re-make seemed better when served with orange juice.
Here's the logic. With make-up, I was thinking "make-up stories, make-up for lost time, make-up with folks I might be not exactly estranged from, but needing to touch base with." We are moving into a new home in two months and make-up seems we should be "Making things move up." Especially since we can move out of the rental condo and make our new house our home.
So why did re-make sneak in there? There is this part of me that doesn't like the fact that make up can also be cosmetics. Let's face it, I'm a minimal or none cosmetic kind of gal. Make up annoys me.
So, for that very reason, MAKE-UP is my word of the year. It embodies all the ideas I want to embrace and it also hones in on one of my vulnerabilities, my insecurities about my appearance. If something bugs me that much, I probably need to take a look at it.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Spiced Rum
I hit H Mart in Lynnwood today to stock up on Asian groceries. I scored gobo and kimchee and even Korean sushi, but I couldn't find any long onions or konnyaku (devil's tongue). I'm making buta jiru on Friday, so I will have to make another trip elsewhere to find those things. At least I don't have to drive 3 hours to get to a foreign food superstore, so I can't complain too much.
And what does any of this have to do with spiced rum? Nothing at all. But dinner will be a combination of bi bim bap (from namul I bought at H Mart) and Korean sushi, so I don't need to be on my game to cook it.
DS1's homework is done. (Well, all but Benesse, but I just didn't feel like cracking the whip on that today.) DS2 has had mental stimulation in a non-video format for most of the day. It was happy hour, but I'm out of cheap, decent Chardonnay, so I raided the liquor cabinet and since I only own gin or rum, I googled hot rum drinks. I settled on hot buttered rum. I am slowly imbibing whilst the boys are making books at the dinner table. To give you an idea of how slowly I am imbibing, I had to microwave my drink ten seconds since it was lukewarm buttered rum at one point. Of course, our rental condo is 18 celsius at the moment since I am too cheap to run the electric heaters and too lazy to change the thermometer to Fahrenheit on my pencil
stand.
And all this talk of rum makes me thinks of pirates and Japanese animated ones.
And what does any of this have to do with spiced rum? Nothing at all. But dinner will be a combination of bi bim bap (from namul I bought at H Mart) and Korean sushi, so I don't need to be on my game to cook it.
DS1's homework is done. (Well, all but Benesse, but I just didn't feel like cracking the whip on that today.) DS2 has had mental stimulation in a non-video format for most of the day. It was happy hour, but I'm out of cheap, decent Chardonnay, so I raided the liquor cabinet and since I only own gin or rum, I googled hot rum drinks. I settled on hot buttered rum. I am slowly imbibing whilst the boys are making books at the dinner table. To give you an idea of how slowly I am imbibing, I had to microwave my drink ten seconds since it was lukewarm buttered rum at one point. Of course, our rental condo is 18 celsius at the moment since I am too cheap to run the electric heaters and too lazy to change the thermometer to Fahrenheit on my pencil
stand.
And all this talk of rum makes me thinks of pirates and Japanese animated ones.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
This Beautiful Life
I just finished reading This Beautiful Life by Helen Schulman last night. I'd had it on reserve at the library since reading about it in some random magazine found in some random doctor's office. I was impressed.
I expected it to be high drama and the unraveling of an American family. Yes, there was an event that causes everything to unwind, but Schulman paints a realistic portrait of a family that loves each other, but can't figure out how to pull it together.
The mom in the story resonated with me. She's well educated, but gives that up to stay home with her kids. My favorite line, early in the book on page 11 after she gets her kids off to school is "...Liz took one look at her messy home and was overwhelmed by how much there was to do and how little she wanted to do it. Finding that first step into an amorphous day, a day without bones, was always the hardest."
My boneless day started several hours ago and so far I've started laundry, disposed of a rotting pumpkin, emptied the recycling, put futons away and made our bed. I've wanted to do none of that, but since yesterday I nursed my cold and read a book, I felt I owed it to myself and everyone else to try harder today.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Hope
One of my favorite movies is The Shawshank Redemption. The tagline for that movie is, "Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free." I haven't been very hopeful lately.
I went to a Women's Wellness Weekend on Orcas Island about 10 days ago. I thought it would help me sort some things out. Instead, I did crafts all weekend and rode the giant swing and the zipline. It was good, but it didn't necessarily give me the dramatic prison break that I was hoping for.
I did win $5 in camp bucks at bingo. I used them to buy lanyard lace for my boys and a cheaply made bracelet with a "Hope" affirmation on a silver-toned token. I've been wearing it daily and every time I see it, I send out a little karmic energy that we will find a house soon.
I know there is a house for us (or a small lot upon which we could build.) I am tired of living in the rental condo. I'm tired of the thumping bass of the person who lives beneath us. I am tired of the students who live across the street and party until all hours of the morning on Saturday night. I am tired of unpacked boxes stacked in our closet, waiting for a "permanent" home. I'm tired of the messy impermanence of it all.
I have hope, or at least a hope bracelet. Too bad it's not the Hope Diamond, or I wouldn't be worried about how much money we will have to spend to buy a house. Oh well.
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