Christmas? Yes!
About a year ago around this time I was feeling miserable. It was the most wonderful time of the year and I enjoyed it from the toilet. And now we're back and I have constant flashbacks... the cold air, the snow, the Christmas songs on TV - it all makes me a little bit sick. The power of association is just amazing. But. I also have a resurgence of energy - the thought of having a nausea-free season is just exhilarating. I am so ready to make up for all the missed Christmas-fun of last year. I will not drive to a nearby restaurant to pick up Christmas Eve dinner, nor will I go to bed at 8 p.m. crying about my misery. Instead... I will enjoy every little bit of what Christmas has to offer and for the first time with the result of all that suffering. I can't wait.
Posted at 11:51 AM on November 28, 2003 | Comments (2)God Only Knows
There hasn't been a day in the last few weeks and months that I haven't thought at least once a day: my life is perfect. It might sound presumptuous or blinded or just plain dumb, but I can't find any other way to look at it. Dreams have become reality - especially those I could've never dreamt. I know it's not the perfection of every possible aspect, just a feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment that seems to have come out of nowhere although it clearly has a purpose.
I get bored, the day is repetitive, my dog annoys the heck out of me, I don't want to think about groceries, I don't get to use my brain, I don't want to wake up three times at night, why is there dust in this world and why is that one of the main issues in my daily life right now? And then I sit down and cry because I'm so happy my daughter just learned how to laugh.
Every night I thank God a million times that I am here and this is it. I know it's not always been this way and it won't. I will not be scared it can be over tomorrow, though. Because even if it is - this is not some crazy lottery-luck. It's true, I didn't deserve it, who could? But what is the price of fulfillment? Who could get it for me or take it away? You can't trade the sense of purpose.
Anyway... I am so happy!
Posted at 09:51 AM on November 25, 2003 | Comments (1)If you were wondering...
... what to get my daughter, here are a few hints: Ms. V's Wishlist
Veronika says...
Well, can you tell what she's trying to say? Is she happy or is it a cry for help?
",uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu,........,,,,ii m nnnnnnnnnnnnnnjn mnnnnnnnnnnnnn/;.llmhm n m bhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh /., qqqqqqqqqqqqqq mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmxdhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm "
Taking the kids to the park
On some days when I think walking is really good excercise when you have a baby and a dog, I take Digby and Veronika to the old fairgrounds, which is basically a big lawn (the size of a huge soccer field...i think) with a paved path around it. The path is a 3/4 mile long so people come to run/walk the laps and can measure how far they went without going anywhere.
It goes something like this:
We arrive, I prepare the stroller, snap Veronika in, adjust her hat, then open the kennel, let the dog out and we start running - well, Digby does while I try to lock the car. The idea is that I push the stroller while holding the leash with both hands and Digby running along on the left side. As soon as we are on the track, I pick up 3 Dispoz-A-Scoops, that's right 3. Digby will poop three times, whether he has to or not, that's just the rule. While storing the bags I encourage Digby to do the first deposit right there because there are only 2 trash cans along the way - the next being on the opposite side. Digby can't right now, because - what do you know - a person is approaching. If we're lucky, which we're not, it's a jogger: they come and go, minimal temptation for Digby as they're out of sight in a few seconds; no, it's a really slooow lady, or maybe a confused gentleman, who decided to take a stroll and smell the flowers. I change my mind and decide it's best to start walking so we can keep a good distance from the slow dude.
Ok, we're walking. The baby's happy, Digby is ecstatic (his regular mood). Oops, it's been 3 yards, time to stop. Digby has to go. We're still close enough to the first trash can, I praise Digby. Lots of encouragement follows. Nevertheless Digby is not sure which patch of the lawn is best. A short but frantic search follows. I turn and see the slow man approaching. Digby sees him too. What do to? Poop or show the guy some love? Poop is the verdict. I whip out my Dispoz-A-Scoop... things get a little messy. I try to hurry still hoping there is enough time to get this over with before the man actually passes us. Too late. He passes us. I try to hold Digby from jumping on him while balancing a piece of poop on the bag. The gentleman smiles, I wait for the line... and there it comes: You've got your hands full! Yesyes, politesmile, thankyouvermuch you screwed up my next 100 yards.
I run back to actually dispose the scoop. Digby is ecstatic. I decide it's best to go slow and let the guy gain some advantage because Digby cannot walk without trying to enthusiastically greet everyone within a 10 yard distance. The guy slows down or at least that's what it looks like. He's barely moving. I decide to go ahead and pass him. We walk again. Real fast. Digby is overjoyed to see him again. I try to accelerate while Digby turns around and pulls me backwards full-force towards the guy now behind us. I win. Ok, here we go, we're walking. Everything's fine, Digby is choking a little, but still very ecstatic.
Gotta stop, adjust baby's hat. A turn around the corner, sun is in baby's eye. We stop, I try to fix the parasol. The slow guy seems to have picked up speed, Digby jumps in ecstasy. Ok, nevermind the parasol, we have to go. Back on track. Slow-guy-danger is over.
It's time for deposit number two. Agonizing decisionmaking for the second time. I am ready, waiting with the scoop. Things get even messier, as second deposit turns out to be a little bit runny. No trash can in sight. We start walking again, Digby is ecstatic, the baby is getting fussy while I try to keep the stroller off the grass and the bag with the dog poop in safe distance. I am sweating. The workout is in full force.
As we start walking again, look what happened, two girlfriends just entered the track, taking it reaaally easy, about 5 yards in front of us. Digby is... you guessed it. He pulls like crazy, I decide to make this quick... "excuseme"... "EEEEEExcuse ME!"... "EXCUSEEEEME!!!!" The lady moves 12 centimeters to the right. "ThankyouvermuchyesIknowIhavemyhandsfullhaveaniceday!"
I keep going, trying to make Digby face forward again. Ok, this is not even going that bad, I will stay calm. I mean, what's the big deal. What if I had two children, it has to be possible to walk 1.5 miles with a DOG AND A STROLLER DAMNIT!!!
The baby's crying. We have to stop. Cuddle and kiss, it's almost over, don't worry. It's time for deposit #3. I will spare you the details. This time Digby picks the spot in no time but has a hard time, uhm,.. let's just say whatever comes next is pure willpower on Digby's part. I'm left with the mess.
Just a few yards left. Digby sees a squirrel and runs into the stroller. Jumps away whincing. Stupid dog. I pet him, the baby's crying again. I pet the baby.
We run to the car, this time's it's me the one who's pulling. A treat for the dog and he runs into the kennel willingly. I pack up the baby and the stroller. Sit down. My heart rate is through the roof. Mission accomplished. I really should come here more often.
Posted at 02:33 PM on November 22, 2003 | Comments (3)When I was young
Thanks to my husband who practices perfect fatherhood and takes care of Schmatzi all by himself, I have enrolled in an exercise class at the Y every Saturday morning. It's called Cardio Funk and is supposed to be a cardio class with dance moves or something like that. I used to take "real" dance classes but since I moved to Indiana I had to give up on that hobby since because in Indiana nobody older than 13 takes dance classes and I felt a little weird hopping around a bunch of almost-teenage girls in their cutesy outfits (think elephant among pink tutus).
First I thought a fake dance class for the masses is just a bad alternative but then - I can't really afford to be arrogant and stuck-up (as I'd like to be) in this situation so I looked in the mirror and said to myself: Who are you kidding? Look at yourself. You fit better into a class about ancient fertility symbols (think Venus von Willendorf) than about dance. Fake dancing is just about right.
And so I went and to my surprise the class is a lot of fun thanks to a very talented and energetic instructor. Still, trying to unify the outdated mental image of my body and the actual vision in the mirror was somewhat of a challenge. A glance here and there to verify if my arms and legs were doing the same thing as the instructor's messed up my steps every time. Dear Lord, is this me? Where is the grace, the confidence... the energy? Oh it is time to cry... at least that's what my body was trying to tell me after the first 10 minutes: "What in the world do you think you're doing?! Since when are we doing cardio? You just added 40 lbs in 9 months, then lost 20 in one week and another 7 in the following months, never sleeping through the night and producing the entire nutrition for a 3-month-old and now we're supposed to just dance our way through 45 minutes of "cardio funk"? You MUST be joking. What a silly name anyway!"
Oh well. I am trying to think positive and believe that one day I will again think that this is a very natural activity for my body. On one hand I am literally on an emotional high using my body for frivolous useless movement and not being used for feeding, sleeping, comfort or simply as a chair, on the other I just want to lie down and die concluding that it is just impossible to be a mother and a regular person at the same time. Only time will tell.
Posted at 07:08 PM on November 09, 2003 | Comments (5)