Saturday, April 26, 2008
Yesterday the Princess showed me that her very fancy sparkly Hannah Montana sneakers were coming apart. (The sole was flapping which really amused me. She didn't find it so funny.) So out we went to hunt for new shoes. Being the super-consumer that she is, the Princess already had the exact shoes picked out before we even left the house. They are High School Musical sneakers. Seriously. And they cost TEN times more than a pair of Bobo's did! Ok, so that sounds dramatic and they were only twenty bucks, but really.... Whatever happened to two dollar sneakers? She's going to outgrow them in four months anyway! And they don't have laces! They have weird bungees up the middle topped by one strap of Velcro. How lazy are we now??
Did I mention that she's been asking for a cell phone? Did I mention that she is EIGHT? *sigh*
Thursday, April 24, 2008
My mother-in-law and I have a fun political relationship. We're definitely on opposing teams, but we like to tease each other with our party stereotypes. (I hate the environment for example, and just want to waste all of our resources! Whee!) When GWB won a second term she called me to congratulate me on 'my guy' winning. What I love about my MIL, in addition to the fact that she wore a bikini to the beach on her 50th bday, is that we can talk politics the way that everyone should be able to talk politics. Emotionally intense moral topics like abortion and the death penalty aside, most political discussions consist of people who want the best for their country & family. My MIL is a democrat and my FIL is a republican. This in itself is entertaining, but I'll save that for another day. I don't consider myself an idealist by any means, as I'm way too cynical and sarcastic to fall into that category. But I just don't see why we can't talk from both sides of the political table without it ending in bloodshed. I think this is why I'm not really a Rush Limbaugh or Ann Coulter fan - while I agree with a lot of their political stances in theory, I'm just not into the name calling stuff. I'm much more of a Glenn Beck fan, who is a thoughtful man when it comes to politics but doesn't tend to take himself too seriously, and has a wicked sense of humor.
I love our President, but I can find humor in GWB's foibles, and I'm not so self righteous as to not laugh when he says stuff about gynocologists practicing their love of women. One of my all-time favorite YouTube's is the Endless Love video of GWB and Tony Blair. I guess maybe I am an idealist in a way, since I don't see why we have to take ourselves so seriously when it comes to politics. Or maybe I am just sick to death of the political commercials already and will just be sticking my fingers in my ears til November. *la la la la not listening la la la*
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
When he was two he was playing in our back yard. I went in the house to do something housewifey, and his sister was in school. He must have sensed his moment had arrived, because when I returned to the yard a few minutes later, he was gone. I checked every nook and cranny of that back yard and finally noticed the gate was slightly ajar. And I say 'slightly' because it was, in fact, still CLOSED. And PADLOCKED. He being of skinny bones however, was able to push the gate just far enough open so he could squink his little self through. I don't know why I thought to unlock the gate and go looking, since I really did not believe he could have gotten through. I found him the next street over, trotting down the sidewalk and just beaming. After I recovered from my aneurism I was able to see the humor in the situation, in particular the part where he had not gone into the street and been flattened. Oh how I long for those simpler times, before he could run faster than me, before he learned how to use his father's tools to dismantle his room.
The Boy enjoyed his field trip immeasurably, and the bug exhibit was the highlight for him. I was just relieved to see him get off that bus at the end of the day. I'm still thinking about the Sharpie idea for next year though.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
How much is too much?
April is Alcohol Awareness Month. If you or someone you love is concerned about alcoholism, please check out that link above, or look into the multitude of resources out there. Alcoholics Anonymous is absolutely the reason that I am sober today. Not everyone is a fan, and I myself took three years before I was willing to admit that I needed the program. But the basic premise is that we are a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that we may solve our common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism. What could be more effective than those who have been there, reaching out to those who need help?
I think I had two or three drinks and was wildly enthusiastic about how it made me walk funny. I kept trying to demonstrate this to my friends. I eventually was in the bathroom throwing up, and beginning my very first blackout. I didn't learn until many years later that blacking out when you're drinking is not normal. Who knew? By the next morning I was more concerned about the fact that I had been unceremoniously dumped on the doorstep in front of my flabbergasted mother (by the mother of my friend who had found out where we were and what we were doing), than with whatever a blackout was. I knew nothing about alcoholism, except that my father was in recovery. Even that meant little to me, since I had no memory of his drinking.
I am keenly aware of the blessing that my children have in my sobriety. They will have no memory of their mother being a drunk, and I am obviously quite thankful for this. On the other hand, having come from a long line of not-so-distinguised Ukrainian alcoholics, I am not naive enough to think that my tales of woe will be enough to protect my children from this disease. It is something I have prayed about and I have asked God to end the 'line' of alcoholism at me. I know the story of the Prodigal daughter all too well, and if it were up to me, there would be no such story for my daughter or sons. Accepting the things I cannot change, or in this case, the things that I cannot prevent, is part of my own recovery.
When it comes to your own children, there is nothing you wouldn't do for them. Truly nothing. But I know that my children will make their own choices and live their own lives, and I will someday be an observer of what they do, with little to no say. Will I handle it with quiet eyes, the way my own parents did? Will I lecture them about doing as I say and not as I did? I suppose God is gently chuckling at my questions, as He already knows their future. I had an issue with my daughter a few years ago that I was very upset about, and I have not forgotten the Lord firmly telling me, "You're just going to have to trust Me." To this end, may I always strive.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
It is gigantic to say the least. It is wide enough to cover my queen sized bed from floor to floor. A year or two ago I found the perfect backing fabric, a wooly blue plaid. It's already sewn together, and I have the batting that I got on sale a few years ago too. It is now ready to be layered together and pinned. However, the whole project is at a stand still for a few very good reasons.
One - small but very demanding people in my house
Two - no place to lay it out and still have room to get around it to pin it together and make the quilt sandwich
Three - see number One
So since I do not have enough floor space to do this at home, my plan now is to take it up to my church and lay it out in the big gathering room where I can do it with room to spare. Now I just have to get past reason number Four, which is of course procrastination.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Illogical reasoning aside, I eventually moved from beer to harder stuff anyway, and my last drink was wine. My last drunk was at a Memorial Day party, where I drank two bottles of wine. And of course that meant the big 3 liter bottles. The Man wanted to go home after a while, and I didn't, so he took the Princess and left me there. I thought he was being a stick in the mud. Looking back later, I could see my behavior in a more truthful light, and how I willfully chose to stay and continue to drink rather than go home with my family. I don't even remember how I got home that night.
All I can say to that is thank God I don't have to live that way anymore.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Nothing else going on, except that I'm very happy with the banner I made for up top. I know, we're heading into spring, and yet there are autumn leaves on the trees. But it made me happy.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Didn't sleep well last night, or any recent night really. I can't seem to turn my brain off for some reason. So today is a caffeine day for sure.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
I wanna love like Johnny and June,
Rings of fire burnin' with you,
I wanna walk the line, Walk the line,
'Till the end of time,
I wanna love, Love ya that much,
Cash it all in, Give it all up,
When you're gone,
I wanna go too, Like Johnny and June
And it kinda gave me pause, and I thought really? That's the kind of love you want? I suppose if you only look at the end of the story, and not the beginning, they definitely had a love worth admiring. But the painful journey it took to get them there is something that we shouldn't glamourize, even if Walk the Line was an incredible movie. Adultery, addiction, divorce... these are not things we should have to go through to find true love. And I know that I don't want my kids to look back at the life I lived and envy any part of how I lived.
I remember being challenged once by a friend who said he could outdrink me. I knew he couldn't, even though he had me by probably 5 inches and 70 or so pounds. So one night we were having a party and he matched me beer for beer for the whole night. I clearly remember at the end of the night, standing over his passed out form on the living room floor, while I finished the beer I had and opened another. For a long time in my early sobriety I had to remind myself that this was not behavior worth bragging about. I should never be proud of how much I used to be able to drink. It was something the Man had to deal with too, because he had an odd sense of pride over it too.
I can't say I care for that last line of the song, about wanting to die when our spouse dies. I love my husband, but I wouldn't want to die if he died. As much as I love him, my husband is not my reason for living. Jesus Christ is my reason for living, and as long as I am able to serve Him, that is where my worth comes from, not from being a wife.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
I've been trying to get back in gear with Step 9. I've been talking to my sponsor a lot in the last day or two about a specific one that I am struggling with. It's to a person from my past that I had strong feelings about, and I am quite honestly afraid to contact them. I know that I have to do this, but making yourself vulnerable in this way to someone you have not seen in about 13 years is overwhelming. Thinking back to who you used to be, and really digging into what you did to harm other people is prickly business. I have to be fair, but to do so requires that Rigorous Honesty that follows me around wherever I go, pesky thing.
I got out my old diaries and letters from that time period, and found memories I had conveniently let go of. I don't recognize myself in a lot of my writing. I am so foreign to myself now. Sadly much of that comes from the fact that I was a wretched liar in those days, and would stretch things to accomodate my own purposes. I made up a lot of things in order to get the sympathy or attention that I desperately craved. It's not a pretty picture to think about, and I certainly can't say I'm enjoying the process.
I was in therapy once years ago and the doctor asked me to do an exercise where I sat in a chair and spoke with the old 'me' from college. I fell apart trying to have that 'conversation'. I knew that the Old Me would hate the New Me, and quite frankly, the New Me sure wasn't really fond of the Old Me either. It was very painful, and I don't know that it accomplished much in the end. I was able to look at my previous life, and the choices I made, and see how utterly sick and dysfunctional I was. But I was unable to really 'talk' to the Old Me, because I knew that Old Me would have told New Me to go pound sand.
I know that this journey is not always supposed to be easy. I am thankful that God comes with me on it though. If I could just learn to stop treating him like my co-pilot, and just let Him take over, things would go a lot more smoothly for me.