Category Archives: Family

Day 75: Tuaca anyone?

Posted on February 25, 2011 | 1 comment

Day 75: Today every Book owner is to reserve a table at Gino’s Italian Restaurant for eight o’clock on the 4th of July next year. Phone number: (225) 927-7156 Gino’s. 4542 Bennington, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Open 11am-2pm and 5-10pm Mon-Fri, 5-10:30pm Sat. Closed Sun. MC, VISA, AE, DC, DISC. No checks.

Another one of the book’s challenges that encourages you to screw over a restaurant. I refused the dine and dash and elected not to mess with my pizza man. And I won’t be calling this mom and pop restaurant in Baton Rouge and making a reservation I have no intention of showing up for, not on the 4th of July or on any other day.

I can’t really think about Italian food and the 4th of July without feeling a little wistful. There was a time when I thought I’d spend every 4th of July from now until forever sitting on the beach, feet in the sand, with a belly full of pasta olio, lasagna and sauteéd spinach and mushrooms. Maybe even a spoonful of cannoli filling. We’d walk back across the street from the beach to Lodivichie’s and have a drink with our friends. Em might be falling asleep and I’d scoop her up from the jogging stroller and put her in the buggy that attached to the beach cruiser and head back across the street for home.

Many of my memories of the beach and the time I spent there have faded, both the good ones and the bad. It’s easier that way. Negativity serves no purpose, I simply don’t hang on to things that bring me down. Sadly, the wonderful moments in time, sweet days when Em was teeny and I was navigating the first years of motherhood on no sleep and nothing but pure love, those moments are fading, too.

It was a lifetime ago. July 4th, 2007.

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Posted in Family, This Book Will Change Your Life

I Stand with Planned Parenthood

Posted on February 24, 2011 | 5 comments

Edited to add: I wrote this on February 24, 2011. It makes me super sad that this is still relevant.

Recently House Republicans voted to stop federal funding for Planned Parenthood. Presumably because Planned Parenthood performs approximately 1/4 of the abortions in the United States. It is important now more than ever to speak up about what Planned Parenthood really does.

There are not a lot of things I get up in arms about. But my reproductive rights and how I feel about being a mother are two of them. The mother I am today is in some small way directly related to the woman that Planned Parenthood helped me to become. And to the mother they helped me to not become so very long ago.

Dear Planned Parenthood,

Thank you. Thank you for more than a dozen gynecological exams in times when I was without adequate health insurance. Thank you for the many condoms you gave me when I was too chicken shit to purchase them. Thank you for the birth control prescription, and for filling it for free on a few occasions when I was dangerously close to letting it lapse. Thank you for not making me think I was stupid or that I had been careless for getting my first HIV test in 1996. Thank you for having a rapid test available. That was the longest hour of my life and the very worst cup of coffee I have ever had. Thank you for making me feel like I was strong and smart and brave to not have a child when I was 21 years old and for believing me when I said that I had been on birth control and it had failed me. Thank you for making me feel like an individual even though you perform abortions in groups of eight to minimize the time that the physician needs to be there and to keep the costs down. Thank you for all of the negative results you called to give me for sexually transmitted diseases. And for the very reasonable waiting period to receive them. And for making it seem like a perfectly good idea to go ahead and get tested before making sex a part of a new relationship. Thank you for making me feel like the kind of strong and sensible woman that would ask a partner to do the same for her. Special thanks to the Planned Parenthood in Hampton Roads for being next door to a Party City and across the street from a Mattress Discounters. This provided me endless laughs. Planned Parenthood, in allowing me to not become a mother when I was twenty one years old you empowered me. And I became a woman that was strong. And brave. And proud. And cautious. All things that made me a great mother ten years later. I don’t know about you, but those are all family values in my book.

Sincerely,

Kelly

I don’t use this space as a soapbox often. I write a lot about being a mother, and my journey to becoming the woman that I am. Please take a minute and voice your thoughts to Planned Parenthood and our Congress. Planned Parenthood hands out health care. And confidence. And safety. Every day.

My 21st birthday. I was still a baby….

Day 74: Express Your Views Today! The book asks you to go to their website and log on and express an idea, but I abstain from jumping through their hoops designed to drive traffic to their website. I will take this opportunity instead to speak up about something that matters to me.

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Posted in Family, Parenting, This Book Will Change Your Life

Tagged Abortion, Planned Parenthood, Reproductive rights, This Book Will Change Your Life

Day 69: Downsizing Day

Posted on January 26, 2011 | Leave a comment

Day 69: Today fire someone from your entourage.

Today’s challenge was actually accomplished a few days ago. I laid off my dish washer, my bus driver, my babysitter, my laundry fetcher, my glass of water getter, my “what did we need at the store, again?” remember-er, my dog walker, my cat feeder, my bed warmer, my cell phone phone caller and finder, my entertainer, my audience and my DJ. All at once.

MQD has been gone since Sunday afternoon and this morning I yelled at the dog. And at Emily. I am tired. I am frustrated. I am, admittedly, without caffeine, as well. But mostly I just feel spent.

The picture below was taken on the very first afternoon that MQD kept Em. I don’t recall now where I was needing to be, work, perhaps , but it was a picture he sent me to indicate that all was well and they were having a good time. The day that picture was taken I did it all every day. And today, not even a year later, I can’t remember how to get us all out of the house on time all alone.

Like childbirth, being a single parent is one of those things you forget all about once it’s over. I’m okay with that.

*I hope you’re having a good time, baby. But come home soon, ok? And don’t be alarmed when you get there. It’s a wreck. But all the animals slept in our bed. And Em, too. And Floppy Dog. And Snoopy. I checked to make sure the doors were locked at least four times before I went to bed every night. We’re safe and sound. Don’t know how I ever did it without you… For the record I plan to re-hire you on Saturday morning. xo
-Kel

Fashion Sense

Posted on January 21, 2011 | 1 comment

“But how, how do you know everything, Mom?”

And I answer, as I always do, taking the first sip of my morning coffee,”Because I have an enormous brain.” And through the holes in her skeleton ski mask I can see she’s not buying it this morning. “And because I have lived for a long, long time.”

“Oh. And your mom taught you everything?”

“Yes, Emily.”

Although, I suspect she’d say she is not responsible for our fashion sense, or lack thereof. When Em came in to the bathroom and said “Can I wear this to school?” she must have seen me hesitate. So, she followed up with “It matches.”

And off to school we went.

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Posted in Family, Parenting

Tagged Emily, Fashion Sense, Skeletons

Day 63: World’s Biggest Asshole

Posted on January 18, 2011 | 6 comments

Day 63′ s challenge encourages you to try and break a Guinness World Record. If I was eight or nine and it was summer time there’d be no question as to what I’d do. I’d pogo stick my little ass off. I held the Highridge Street record for pogo-sticking, very likely for time and mileage. I could pogo stick (uphill, mind you) all the way to the Fischer’s and back three times. For all those unfamiliar with the neighborhood layout, it was a good .25 miles to their house. So there and back three times, we’re talking a smooth mile and a half. Via pogo stick it was at least 45 minutes. Maybe longer. At 8 or 9 years old I had time to kill. Nowadays… not so much.

So, on my way to work this morning I was doing two things. Contemplating my Guinness Book entry and listening to a book I’d downloaded. Pretty common, for me.

I like to listen to books in the car when I am by myself. I don’t get enough time to read so I enjoy it. But because I tend to listen in ten minutes increments I listen to my fair share of “light reading.” I am about 3/4 of the way through Life, Keith Richards’ memoir, but it is 700 hours long, or so it seems, so I thought I’d break it up a bit with something amusing. A friend mentioned reading Tucker Max’s I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell recently and I remembered that it was kinda funny, the excerpts I had read, anyway. I downloaded it knowing absolutely what I was in for. If you’re not familiar – Tucker Max is a jackass, Duke University law student. He started a website where he told stories of his late night carousing, stories of booze fueled hook ups with idiotic college girls and what not. There are some admittedly hilarious parts of the book…and a whole lot of reasons for anyone with even a minor feminist inkling to find it appalling. His website took off and he has since made a career out of behaving like a douche-bag college student well in to his thirties.

That was a lot of back story… all to tell you that this morning I finished his book. And in five hours of listening to this fuckwad talk about women in a degrading manner it was his mispronunciation of the word absinthe in the final thirty minutes that made me bonkers. He pronounces it with the emphasis on the last syllable. I thought at first I could let it go. And then he just kept saying it. And saying it. And it made me crazy. And I started thinking, maybe Tucker Max is NOT the World’s Biggest Asshole. Maybe I am. Because in five hours of listening to him spew forth his garbage, this was what made me crazy. Mispronunciation of an alcoholic beverage.

So, I was giggling to myself that maybe I’d post that I am the World’s Biggest Asshole. Because evidently misogyny is fine by me so long as you can pronounce your drink of choice properly.

And then I started thinking. I might actually be the World’s Biggest Asshole. MQD is home today with his back all out of whack. (I know, isn’t it me that is supposed to be the bad back have-r in this relationship?) And as I walked by him this morning, flat on his back with an ice pack on the floor, I made a joke. And kind of acted like a jerk. You’d think I’d not do that. Considering.

After a few minutes doing that kind of question and answer with yourself that you can do if you’ve been through any therapy at all (“And why do you think you do that?” “How does it make you feel when you behave that way?” “What is your desired response?” ) I had a mini epiphany. I think I am an asshole when he doesn’t feel well because it scares me. We joke about “The Diabetes” but in all sincerity…. I love that guy, crazy love. And when he doesn’t feel well I can’t help but look in to the future. And it scares me. There’s a sea of “what ifs'” for all of us. But his are more overwhelming to me. So, yeah… I act like an asshole because I love him and I worry about him. That wasn’t a very fun epiphany.

So, once I realized I was the biggest asshole of all time I spent the rest of the day cheering myself up, admiring my shiny ring and my painted fingernails. All this “self discovery” takes its toll. Sometimes you need a little shallow.

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Posted in Family, This Book Will Change Your Life

Tagged Absinthe, Keith Richards' Life, This Book Will Change Your Life, Tucker Max

Day 60: The Impossible Pizza

Posted on January 9, 2011 | 3 comments

“Order an impossible pizza.”

I think this challenge wants you to call up and order a pizza with 1/8 mushrooms, 1/3 extra cheese, 2/5 pepperoni and on and on…. but much like the dine and dash challenge I just can’t do it. I love a lot of things in this life. My pizza place among them. So I am not about to call them up and be a pain in the ass. (More of a pain in the ass than I already am…) So…. what would my impossible pizza look like?

Well, a lot like this….

But that looks like a bowl of cheese and pepperoni? I KNOW. And this is what I live with. Can’t blame a man for trying to prolong his life, I suppose, but seriously? When your commitment to eating a low carbohydrate diet in an effort to control your blood sugars (thereby lowering your insulin usage) is so strong that you eat BOWLS OF CHEESE AND PEPPERONI instead of PIZZA….. that’s really… something.

And what that something is is a buzzkill. It’s no fun to eat a bowl of ice cream topped with M&Ms and dip sourdough pretzels in to the soupy blend once you’re half way finished when next to you on the couch is a man eating a bowl of ricotta cheese flavored with vanilla extract. Don’t bother to try this experiment. I have now done it enough to tell you with certainty it is no fun.

But if what is good for the goose is good for the gander and all that…. I’m thinking I might eat alongside him for a bit. Can’t hurt. I’m supposed to start obsessing about my weight soon, right? Isn’t that on the Bride To Do list?

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Posted in Exercise, Family, This Book Will Change Your Life, Wedding Planning

Tagged Atkins, Diabetes, Pizza, This Book Will Change Your Life

The Weight

Posted on January 5, 2011 | 9 comments

So, a really smart person asked me another really smart question. And for a second I wished she’d knock that shit off. But it was asked with just the right amount of “tell me if I am stepping on your toes and I’ll shut up” to know she really meant that. And given that she knows whereof she speaks, I paused. And really thought about the answer.

And the more I thought about it the quieter I felt like being… and now that I think I have an answer for her, I figured it was as good an excuse as any to choke back out some words right here so I can get past the pre-christmas pity party I threw for myself. Barfing up some whiny mess here is like barfing up tequila at a party. You’re not really even sorry you did it, because you really do feel better, you’re just sorry you have to see any of those people again, the people that saw you leaving the bathroom, sweating, dazed and stinking of a Cancun party bus.

So, what she asked me is if I was “depressed.” Or suffering from “minor depression” with an apology for the use of the word minor, which was fair, as all who have suffered from it know that it feels like being told you were in a “minor car accident,” only your car is totaled and uninsured. Short answer. No. I’m not. I have been, in my life, and so I took some time and stepped back and thought about it. But nope. But I am suffering daily. On two fronts. That I am hard pressed to believe are not related.

Several months ago when I had my IUD removed I started paying really careful attention to my body. Oddly, at the same time I stopped taking particularly good care of it. Thank you very much, holiday food and drink. But in an effort to keep my psychosis and paranoia from consuming me I started charting my temps and watching my ovulation signs so I would know when to expect my period, consequently limiting the amount of time I spend convinced I am pregnant mere months before the Biggest and Most Fun Party Ever, I mean our wedding. At about this same time I started experiencing terrific back pain. Being a nerd, I logged all these symptoms in to my phone. Since the holidays were a bigger priority to me than running or the gym has been the last couple months, I couldn’t blame it on the gym.

Stepping back now I can see I am in pain more often than not.

In the morning I struggle to get out of bed. Mornings are the toughest, as I wince through making coffee, struggle to get back up from a crouched position to get something from the fridge. I am short with Em and MQD. I am angry. A hot shower and a heaping handful of Advil go a long way. But it’s not my favorite way to wake up. Angry. Hurting.

The pain in my back lends itself nicely to feeling sorry for myself. Not only does it contribute to my lack of exercise, but it causes me to dwell unnecessarily on the process of aging. I think, and think about how lucky I was that I was so healthy for so many years, and really have experienced very little physical pain.

And as soon as I make that distinction….. no physical pain, the pain I did feel all comes back, because I am already crying, might as well make use of it. And before I know it, I am crouched on the floor in the kitchen in front of the fridge, or bent over the trying to pick up my shoes, crying… because my back hurts, and because I am sad I went so long without doing the hard work to get happy. Now that I have it, this capital letter h Happy… I can’t believe I went so long without finding it. The easier my relationship becomes with Jer the more I wonder why I didn’t just let him go sooner. We have our family back. Em’s got her dad, I have my friend. And we have MQD. Who daily is more than I ever could have imagined a man to be.

So… the short answer to am I depressed is no. But I am in pain. My back hurts. And my heart hurts. And hurting makes me angry. And being angry makes me unreasonably frustrated with everything.

I am having a hard time reconciling the fact that I am really fucking sad. Right smack dab in the middle of the happiest time of my life. And I am confused by it.

Marriage is a leap of faith. One I am prepared to make. I feel confident and secure. As secure as someone like me gets anyway…. but all of it, all of this capital letter “H” Happiness is stirring up Sadness and Anger and Failure and all kinds of bullshit that has no repository. So, how do just I barf it up like that cheap tequila so I can make it all over with quicker? The same way I used to try to then… drink more of it. I wallowed in it, hoping that one good splash of feelings would come up from deep inside me and the sweating would stop and I’d feel better. But it’s just not coming. So… where do I go from here?

To have someone help me pull it all out. Let me look at it and then step over it.

My back hurts. My heart hurts. And it’s getting in the way of me sucking up all the Good that is surrounding me. So in the last couple of weeks I did a couple of things that were hard, but not as hard as carrying this weight. I asked MQD to help me with Em so I can take care of me. I made an appointment with someone “to talk to” so I can move on. And this morning I called the chiropractor. It’s either my heart making my back hurt or my back making my heart hurt. I’m not wasting any more time…. gonna fix ’em both up. And take a load off….

9 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Exercise, Family, This Book Will Change Your Life, Wedding Planning

Tagged Divorce, Family, Insecurity, Love, Meaning of life, Wedding

Day 59: Are you psychic?

Posted on December 17, 2010 | 3 comments

Day 59’s challenge asks you if you have psychic powers, and suggests you try and move an object with your mind. I have been writing this post in my head for a week, but I couldn’t quite post it. Because it wasn’t and still isn’t wholly true. I was going to use my “psychic powers” to lift the big black cloud that is hanging over my head. And I thought for a day or two I had done it… but nope. Back in full force. The holidays are hard on everyone, nothing new there. I am staying home this year, with MQD and Em and I am thrilled to begin anew, new nuclear family holiday, new traditions. But I am sad all at the same time, sad that I will be missing my family, sad that MQD will be missing his, worried that the Christmas we make for Em will not be “enough.” Even though I know, cognitively, that makes no sense at all. She has only a few years of Christmas expectations, I have thirty some and it is me that I fear disappointing.

Something about walking around feeling like you have it all for a few weeks… I suppose the letdown of “holy shit, is this it?” is inevitable. But I don’t even know if that’s it. I am just cranky. Blue. Sad. Irritable. Part of MQD’s christmas present says it has been delivered, according to Amazon and it’s not here. So I cried. And resisted the temptation to break shit. That’s not like me. I roll with it. That’s what I do. But underneath the sad and the scared and the insecure and the holy-fuck-it’s-freezing is something else… and I can’t seem to tease it out. It feels like anger. Or at least that is how it is manifesting. I am being short, snippy, rude to the people I love the most while I maintain my cheery disposition for everyone else.

I carried this feeling for ages in my twenties, that no matter what was happening on the surface, underneath I was unsettled. Fearful. Sad. I am angry with myself now for feeling robbed of enjoying this time. A time when I have nothing but love and joy surrounding me… how dare I rob myself and those around me of that? It is self-indulgent and childish, and I so wish I could just “get over it.” But to someone who has never felt it, it is impossible to explain. It’s like being nauseous. When you know you won’t really puke. Only I feel like I might burst in to tears. I am constantly choking it back.

And in case all this drivel wasn’t whiny enough my back is aching daily again. It makes me feel old and broken and impatient. So the radio silence of late… I don’t have much to report.

So what am I going to do about it?

Get some exercise again. Regularly. Move the blood. Maybe it’s silly, but I can’t help but feel like when I have no energy or bad energy that moving it all around will help reorganize things in that old body of mine.
Mind my mouth, keep at this. At least now I hear it, and I apologize immediately. Next step, just shut the fuck up if I have nothing nice to say.
Trust.

And with all the psychic power I can muster… I am gonna try and move this out

and see more of this.

Ahhh, but at least I have my sense of humor. When all else fails… at least I can laugh at myself. What song is playing?

Try to stop my hands from shaking
Something in my mind’s not making sense
It’s been awhile since we’ve been all alone
I can’t hide the way I’m feeling
As you leave me, please, would you close the door
And don’t forget what I told you
Just cause you’re right, that don’t mean I’m wrong, another shoulder to cry upon…

Sad state of affairs when your problems are so simply spelled out by a 1986 Billboard hit.

But it’s true. I don’t “want to lose your love” and it has “been awhile since we’ve been alone.” I don’t expect MQD to fix it. And I thank him regularly for his patience. I know he didn’t “do this.” But he fell in love with me just the way I was, which was sad, impatient, broken and scared. I need to remember I was also hopeful, renewed, optimistic… even then. I’ve come so far. Now is no time to go backwards. One foot in front of the other. And if I am angry… I am angry with myself. For not being mindful of the joy and the love that I live every day.

I think if I can attack #1 (exercise) with a vengeance and really focus on #3 (trust) that #2 (my shitty disposition and accompanying smart mouth) will solve itself. And then maybe I can land a Date with that sweet boy that asked me to marry him. And sit back, with a smile on my face, my little lady asleep upstairs with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head, and start getting my Christmas on. Because seriously, Bad Mood, roll out. I don’t have time for you now.

3 Comments

Posted in Bad Mood, Family, This Book Will Change Your Life

Tagged Blue, Christmas, This Book Will Change Your Life

Day 58:Our kids shall inherit the earth….

Posted on December 8, 2010 | 1 comment

Day 58 challenges you to think about what it is you will pass along to your children, specifically what skills. The suggestion that they offer is whittling. Not being particularly fond of whittling I had to come up with something else. While I was thinking about this, letting the challenge roll around in the back of my head until somethign crops up organically, Em was having herself a dance party in the living room.

Dance parties consist of a lot of various moves. But the single move that she has embraced from a very young age has been the air-guitar. She employs it mid power-slide, while head banging, even while absent-mindedly looking out the window. But recently she has added a new element. The “wheedling.”

I looked all over youtube for an appropriate clip showcasing this skill and I can’t find it. And she will not do it for the camera. If you don’t watch Metalocalypse on AdultSwim you should . Dethklok, the band on this cartoon show, features Skwisgaar Skwigelf , the fastest guitarest ALIVE! When he is playing sometimes he makes the sound we’ve all made, usually when all alone practicing our air guitar. It can best be spelled out “Wheedly, wheeedly, wheeedly, wheeeedly….” etc.

So, anyway… I am thinking about whittling when I observe MQD assisting Em in her wheedling. And there you have it… what skill have we passed along to Emily? Wheedling.

Perhaps it goes deeper than that. Like her mother, Emily will do anything for a laugh. She values the joy of those around her more than maintaining decorum. She has no problem making herself the butt of the joke, so long as the joke gets a laugh. And I could be no more proud. The kid is funny. She had me rolling last night at dinner.

Is it okay to call your kid an ass? As in “My kid loves to make an ass of herself.” I hope so. Because man, does she ever. And I fucking love it.

In lieu of a wheedling video I will share here my all time favorite Emily June original tune… (only slightly better than last night’s “I wanna RED! RED!” song about popsicles to the tune of Twister Sister’s “I Wanna Rock!”)

I present to you… My Pet Maggot

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Posted in Family, Parenting, This Book Will Change Your Life

Tagged Air Guitar, This Book Will Change Your Life

10 Day Challenge (10!)

Posted on December 2, 2010 | 5 comments

Day Ten: One confession.

The last of the Ten Day Challenge has me a little uncomfortable. I don’t have a lot of secrets. So, a confession isn’t easy for me to come up with. The only real option is to say something “out loud” that makes me uncomfortable. It is not a secret, so it isn’t really a confession, that I want to get pregnant next Spring.

The confession is that I am terrified. I am scared I won’t be able to get pregnant. I am scared that something will go wrong with a resulting pregnancy and I won’t know how to not be heartbroken, even though I “have a perfectly healthy child already.” I am scared that my age will have caught up with me and another pregnancy might not be as easy as my last. I am scared that “trying” to get pregnant will become the most unromantic thing ever, thereby ruining whatever honeymoon phase MQD and I get to experience after our wedding. I am scared I will get pregnant and everything will go beautifully until I have an infant in my arms. And then I will begin to mourn the loss of the time when it was just me and Emily and I will never love another as I do her. I am scared that the peace I have come to with my post-baby body will not come back to me again. I am scared. Of everything.

I am scared to say it out loud. That I want another baby. I wanted another child not long after I had Emily. I loved being pregnant. I want Em to be a sister. I want MQD to experience fatherhood from conception. I want him to be a Daddy and not “just a Mike.” Even though I absolutely know he is not just a Mike, and I hope against hope he knows that, too. I want to trust that it will happen when it’s right, if it’s right. But I want it so god damn badly. And as I have written about in the past… I don’t feel really comfortable when I want something so badly. Because wanting something opens the door for failing to achieve it.

The scariest part? I truly believe it will all be fine. I do. But I sure do love worrying about things I can’t control. Call it a hobby.

Super pregnant with Emily…. this reminds me, I need new Reefs. They are fabulous flip-flops. I loved this day. I felt huge. And ready. This was about two weeks before Em was born.