Grouchy Mom

Temptation is everywhere

It's that time of year again - the time when every woman I know (and quite a few men) looks at their jeans and thinks "Oh please God, just let 'em fit through Christmas!"   Next week, of course, is Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday, and a great time for us all to remember to count our blessings and give thanks for all we have.  The problem is that counting blessings and giving thanks don't exactly qualify as calorie-burning activities.  Sad but true.    Perhaps if we had to do a few laps around the dining room table for each blessing we can think up....of course, all that running on such a full stomach would make me mighty unhappy, which would tend to negate the whole "think of your blessings" thing.  It's hard to think "blessing" when your body is screaming "You idiot, what do you think you're doing?"

We all seem to make it past Thanksgiving with our appetites intact, one way or another.  However, the day after Thanksgiving plunges us headlong into that most deadly of yearly activities - Christmas baking.   You heard me.   You just have to make Grandma's pumpkin bread and Aunt Martha's fudge and ohmygosh, did you see that recipe for maple cookies with thousand-calorie cream filling?  Gotta make THOSE!   Even I succumb to the call of the kitchen at this time of year, and I don't like to cook! 

Now, there's always the option of being stubbornly independent and refusing to bake.  I've tried it in the past.  The problem there is that everybody knows somebody who just loves to bake, and considers it their personal obligation to shower you with holiday baked goods.    In fact, if you let it be known that you don't enjoy baking, some folks will take that as a challenge.  You could find yourself becoming some rabid baker's own little mission field; not only will you get the baked goods, you'll find recipes taped to your door or waiting in your e-mail.  They'll invite you over for a baking day - "Come on, it's more fun if you bake with a friend!"   I guess trashing your kitchen is more fun with two?

So I have, as I said, succumbed to the holiday madness.  If I'm totally honest, I don't mind baking so much.  I mean, hey, there's sugar involved, right?  Can't be all bad!  It is possible - only possible, mind - that I even (sort of) enjoy it, but I'll deny it if anyone brings it up in public.    And I suppose that I could spend a little time on the treadmill to help offset those sugar cookies, instead of just griping about getting fat.  Maybe I could even count some blessings while I walk 'em off.   What do you think?

Maybe, maybe....

I find myself today in a situation that is virtually unprecedented in my life experience:  my house is reasonably tidy (by my definition), everyone in the family is happy and healthy, there are no major projects looming, and I don't have to leave the house for a darn thing. 

I don't know what to do. 

Honestly, this is such a rare occurrence for me that I'm completely unprepared.  Usually if the house is good, that means people are coming over.  (Yes, I am one of "those" housekeepers.)  Well, a couple of the boys' friends are here, but really, how much Martha Stewart do I need to dish out for 13- and 15-year-old boys?    (Answer: very little, as long as it's edible.)   Jon and the kids are all feeling pretty good today, which is very nice.   I actually do not have a headache in any form and my fibro is being pretty quiet today, which is beyond nice. 

Jon and the kids have been outside most of the morning working on some minor projects, but nothing that's vital to our continued existence.   It appears that Jon has everything he needs for said projects, which is also unheard of in our family.  The weather is beautiful today - more like late September than early November - so I actually have a couple windows open.    I picked up some groceries last night, we have dog food and cat food, and our toilet paper supply is more than adequate, which means that I have absolutely no reason to go anywhere today. 

Maybe.....maybe I could curl up with that book I brought home from the library last week.  Or maybe I could knit on that scarf that I thought would be done in a couple days and has instead been on the needles for two weeks.    I could go downstairs and do some beadwork.  Or maybe  I could spend some time at my torch before I completely forget how it works. 

Maybe  - just maybe, mind you - I could relax.   Just me, here in my house, with no agenda, no schedule, nothing pulling at me for my attention or energy.   I could sit here and watch the willow tree by the pond swaying in the wind.  I could stretch out in the pool of sunlight on the living room floor and take a little snooze.   I could dream a little.   Maybe I could just enjoy today.  

Aaahhhhh......

Just plain done with it

  Warning: whine-heavy post.  If you aren't in the mood, feel free to move along.

  Do you ever just get fed up with life?   Not to the extreme (although I've been there too, but that's another story) - just done,  sick and tired of slogging through the muck of daily life, ready to take a break from all the petty annoyances that seem to fill the day.  That would be me right now.  October was just a long string of frustrations and disappointments, liberally sprinkled with colds, fibromyalgia pain and one heaping dose of heart-wrenching panic.  

    I think I mentioned that we were taking care of my friends' small children.  Sweet kids, but exhausting when you're not in that phase of life anymore.  Plus one of the twins brought home a lovely head cold (which he graciously shared with me and two of my kids),  and on the last day we had them the other twin decided to throw up.  Three (3) times in 45 minutes.   Yeah.    As much as I love them, I was very glad to see their parents. 

    The next week was pretty much a wash as far as getting anything done.  Faith, Seth and I were all totally miserable with colds/bronchitis.  My fibromyalgia had decided that my body wasn't supposed to take care of little kids any more and was punishing me for trying;  of course getting a cold just ramped things up even more.  I probably would have wanted to die, but that would've taken waaaaaaaaaay too much energy.....so I just sat there, a big old lump of miserable.  

There were a few other issues in there too - a job that didn't work out the way I'd hoped, a burned-out ignition thingy (yes, it's a technical term) on our less-than-a-year-old boiler, etc., etc., - but my precious husband put the frosting on the cake, if you know what I mean.   Last Thursday morning I got a call from Jon's workplace.  When I answered the phone a pleasant female voice said "Hi, this is _____ from Bosch, and I have Jon here with me.  Now, he says not to freak out, but - "   Don't freak out?!?  What, are you crazy?  That's international wife-code for "something BAD is happening but hubby doesn't want you to wig out and embarrass him in front of his coworkers".  So I listened as the nice lady told me that Jon was having some problems with his heart rhythm and pulse rate, and that the EMS was there preparing to take him to the emergency room.  I thanked her politely, hung up and FREAKED OUT!!    hahahah   Okay, I wept a bit and then got ready and drove to the hospital (which was a freaking HOUR away, thankyouverymuch!). 

Once I got there I found out that Jon's heart had gone bonkers - completely out of rhythm, pulse rate far too high, etc.  The medical terminology was "atrial fibrillation", I believe.   After some initial tests and administering some medication to slow his heart a bit, thin his blood and so forth, he was transferred to our local hospital and admitted.  Thankfully, by Thursday evening his heart went back to its proper rhythm and his pulse rate slowed and steadied.  Friday he had some more tests and was finally released, with the proviso that he had to have further testing as an outpatient.  He's tired (and we're both slightly paranoid now) but he seems to be doing alright.  Tomorrow he has a stress echocardiogram, and he'll be doing a sleep study in the near future as well.   Hopefully all the tests will give us a specific cause for what happened, so the doctors can come up with a more defined treatment plan.   Until then, he's on some meds to keep his heart rate stable.  

   Soooooooo,  after all that joy and happiness (please note sarcasm here), I'm really more than ready to be done with it all.  Stop the world, I want to get off, blah blah blah.  Of course things could have been much worse, I know that.  But really, don't you just get tired of being  all tough and competent and noble and stuff?  Yeah, yeah, I know nobody suffered loss of life or limb, but doggone it, I'm tired  and I just want to whine a little.  Is that okay?    I've been stressed, my kids and I have been sick, my entire body hurts like heck,  and my husband may have a heart condition.   A relationship I value may be - not what I thought it was.   Oh, and no, my Prozac isn't exactly doing a fabulous job right now (gee, go figure).   Today I am one seriously Grouchy Mom.   Tomorrow will be another day, but for now....well.  For now, I'm done. 

Oy, my achin' back....

......and legs, and hands, and shoulders, and hips, and...well, you get the idea!  The weather here has been very cold and damp for the past week or so, which is never a good thing for my fibromyalgia.  Add to that the changes in my schedule and activities this past week, and you have a perfect recipe for a truly (physically) miserable Steph. 

One extra little quirk that my body's developed is muscle spasms in my middle back.  This started while we were in Germany, I think in response to stress and board-like mattresses, and it's continued to plague me since we returned.  If I'm unusually tired, stressed, etc., I can pretty much count on my back cramping up.  Sometimes just taking some ibuprofen and going to bed will relax me enough to take care of things.  Other times, well - other times that doesn't work, and then I get really grouchy. 

Why am I sharing this?  I don't really know, other than the fact that trying to form coherent sentences helps keep my mind off the discomfort.  And believe me, forming coherent sentences right now is quite an accomplishment, given my level of tiredness.  Jon laughed at me this evening at the supper table because I called one of the boys (the ones we're babysitting) by the wrong name - and it wasn't even his brother's name, just something totally random.  Then I had to stop and think to remember what the poor kid's name really is!   The munchkins have been fun, but I'm ready to sleep in for a few days now.  They go home tomorrow, and I've already told my family that Sunday I'm going to church and then going to bed.  Period.  The sky can fall if it wants to, just don't wake me up to tell me about it, okay?  Okay. 

And now I'm going to take some ibuprofen and a rice bag and go to bed.  Good night, world. 

Was it really like this?

I have three kids, as most of you know by now.  They all arrived as babies (as most kids do), went through the toddler and preschool years, and have survived to be teenagers.  Not only that, but I have survived them growing to be teenagers.  So how is it that three of someone else's kids are wearing me down so fast?

Jon and I are taking care of some friends' children for a week while they're traveling.  The little girl is 5 and the twin boys are 3, and they are absolutely adorable.  They're typical kids, alternately precious and rotten, and I've always had a lot of fun with them.  What I failed to realize is that having fun with them for an afternoon is a lot different than having fun with them for a week, 24/7.  I am tired, people, in a way I haven't experienced for a good ten years. 

I've said for some time that I really like having older kids, for lots of reasons.  You can have rational, logical conversations with them; discuss theoretical concepts; assign them tasks and be (fairly) comfortable that those tasks will completed properly, etc., etc.   I now see that I have completely undervalued such things as potty training, getting one's own drinks and comprehending such things as "If you run into the piano, it will hurt" before running into the piano.  Yeah.   Completely undervalued. 

In all honesty, it's going pretty well under the circumstances.  The little guys miss Mommy and Daddy, and obviously things aren't quite the same here as they are at home.  They're going to bed well, though, and nobody is going to starve because I don't cook like Mommy does.  And I'm getting lots of little people snuggles and kisses, which is always good.  Still, I will be very, very happy to see Amy and Brian come through their door Saturday evening....very, very happy. 

If I had a dime...

....for every time someone said "Oh, what pretty stones!", or "Wow, these are cool, how long do you have to bake them?", or "So you blow glass?", I could put all three of my kids through college without a second thought.

I did a craft show this past weekend, and as always I was amazed, bemused and sometimes appalled at the things people say.  Over the course of the two-day show I heard all three of the comments above, plus several others.   Many were complimentary, some were curious, a few were ignorant and one was just insulting.  It's interesting how people seem to feel that they can say anything they want about someone's work at an event like this.  Apparently being in the fresh air loosens folks' tongues to the point that basic restraint and common courtesty are forgotten. 

One nice lady commented on how beautiful my rocks (lampwork beads) were, and how did I get them so shiny?  I explained that they were glass, and I make them in my workshop.  "Oh, do you have one of those tumbler thingies?  I guess you couldn't take them all to Lake Michigan and wait for them to get smooth!"  No, dear, I couldn't. 

Another older woman and her daughter were looking through the beads, and the woman picked up one of my vessel beads.  Now, vessels aren't necessarily easy to make.  They're fiddly and time-consuming and therefore cost a bit more.  This woman looked at the price, exclaimed "You want that for this?  It isn't even pretty!"  and plopped it back down.  The daughter was appalled - "MOM!" - and I was proud of myself for not saying anything in return except "Those are all handmade, by ME, in my workshop.  They take a long time to make."   The woman at least had the grace to appear ashamed of herself, and left very quickly.  Sigh. 

Of course, as I chatted with other vendors, I learned that lampworkers aren't alone in dealing with such comments.  The fellow on my left made very nice steel plant hooks, banner poles, etc. - good quality, heavy, much nicer than anything you'd find in the stores, and for a better price.  He said that most people assumed his pieces were iron (because they were black), wanted to know where he bought them, or casually informed him that they could "make one themselves".  Yeah, because skilled welding and metalworking are things everyone does in their spare time, right?

The woman on the other side of me had some luscious handmade soaps, lotions, and air fresheners.  People wanted to know if she made them herself (yes); where she bought the soap (she MADE it); how did she make it (how long do you have?  it's a lengthy process!); are those edible? (air fresheners....pretty, but NOT food!); and so on and so forth.   We vendors were all considering charging for stupid questions by the end of the second day.

I do realize that many people ask such questions out of a genuine curiousity and desire to learn, and that things like glassworking aren't exactly common hobbies.  What gets to me are the ones who ask the questions but don't listen to the answers, or who insult your work without any knowledge of what's involved in the process.  Those are the ones you want to charge just for breathing.   Petty?  I suppose, but this poor lampworker can only take so much.  Someday I'll be able to just let it all roll off my back, but until then...."You like the pretty rocks?  $5 handling charge, lady!"    

A public service announcement

Warning: contains discussions about nasal discharge.  May be mildly nauseating to some readers.  Continue at your own risk. 

Sometimes the weirdest things crop up in conversation with my sister.  For example, we were on the phone the other day chatting about this and that, and all of a sudden Melinda exclaimed "Hey, did I tell you about the vinegar thing?"  Vinegar thing?  Um, no, pretty sure that wasn't part of the discussion....what vinegar thing? 

Sis proceeded to explain that she had heard (somewhere) that combining equal amounts of apple cider vinegar and water, heating it to the boiling point and then inhaling the steam worked wonders for plugged-up sinuses.  Since we both have chronic sinus issues, she thought that would be helpful for me to know.  I made appropriate noises in response and moved on to another subject. 

The next day Melinda called me back, positively giddy, and announced, "It worked!  I did the vinegar thing and it worked!  I can breathe!!!"  What?  Oh yeah, the vinegar thing....really?  It worked?  Inhaling apple cider vinegar steam will open your sinuses?  "Oh yeah," she assured me, "It really loosens things up!  Don't open your eyes, though, that steam is pretty potent stuff!"  

Well, now I was curious, so when I went to the store later that day I picked up some apple cider vinegar (for some reason it has to be apple cider, not any other type of vinegar) and decided to give this thing a whirl.  I poured some vinegar and water into a Pyrex cup and microwaved it for a couple minutes, then pulled it out and sat it on the table.  I then scrunched my eyes closed and leaned over the steaming cup.  WHOA!!  An instant blast of vinegary steam rushed up my sinuses with the force of a locomotive.  I reeled back from the table, gasping for air and blinking in disbelief at the deceptively innocent-appearing cup.  What in the world - ?  Cautiously I moved back into the "inhaling" position.  This time I breathed in a bit slower.  I could feel the congestion in my sinuses recoiling in terror from the pickled breath of death I was inhaling.  Encouraged, I remained over the cup until the contents were no longer steaming.  Then I found a box of tissues and blew my nose 47 times and went about the rest of my day. 

The next morning I woke up, sat up in bed, and realized that I could breathe.  Okay, yeah, I breathe every day, it's why I'm not dead, but I could breathe easily.   My congestion was virtually gone.  In addition, the sinus headache that I've been plagued with for almost a month now had finally decided to abdicate.  It's a miracle!  I immediately called Melinda and burbled, "I did the vinegar thing too!  And it worked!  That is SO weird! blah blah blah...."  Then I called all my other friends with noses and shared the gospel of apple cider vinegar steam with them, too.  And that, my children, is my public service announcement for the day.  Go forth and share the joy that is vinegar-steamed sinuses with all and sundry, and may your tissue box never go empty. 

Okay, I lied

You remember when I said I was ready for our fall schedule?  I'm not.  Not at all.  It was a big fat lie.  I'm not ready, I'm not willing,  I donwanna do it!! 

My biggest scheduling concern is the homeschool group.  It's a great bunch of people, as I said before, and it was really beneficial for us our first year here.  At this point, though, I think we've reached a point where the benefits are outweighed by the costs (mostly time and gas).  I hadn't planned to join this year but let myself be talked into it by a couple of the other moms, and now I'm regretting that wishy-washiness.  I don't want to renege on anything, but at the same time, I've already found myself fighting feelings of resentment about my involvement and the time it's going to take away from things I feel are more important.  So that's a big decision I need to make, and soon.

We're also looking at trying to sell our house, which is a big job at any time and especially in the current economy.   The house is solid, it just needs some cosmetic work (like getting rid of all the evil wallpaper!).  Unfortunately, even cosmetic work means time and money.  To complicate things, hubby was informed last week that he has to take a fairly significant amount of time between now and Christmas without pay.  Ouch.  So he'll be here to do things, which is good, but we'll be losing a good chunk of change from the paycheck, which is not good.   That means we'll be tightening an already "iffy" budget even further, which means less running around, etc. 

On the positive side, we've found homes for several of the kittens with families that we know will be very good to them.  We're keeping a couple (yes, we're suckers, we know).  The current favorite is the runt of Lily's litter, named Aiden.  He is TINY - less than half the size of the other kittens - but he makes up for his lack of size with a great big personality! 

Two days later....well, it's been an interesting week.  I made the decision to leave the homeschool group: two of the gals responded kindly, one reamed me out, and the rest of the group apparently doesn't care.  We talked with a realtor last night, and while she was very friendly and helpful, it became very clear to us that we can't sell our house for what we need right now.  So we're looking at some other options that will free up a little more cash on a monthly basis.  And because we were working so hard to making the house more marketable, I now have a khaki-colored bedroom (neutrals sell better, blah blah blah).

I hate brown. 

It's better than the pink victorian roses and deep mauve woodwork (yes, really), but khaki....blech.  Of course, now that we know we're staying here for a while, I suppose I can get creative with the decorating, although at the moment my enthusiasm for home decorating is at an all-time low.  Actually my enthusiasm for just about everything is at an all-time low right now.  I'm just so tired....I know, I know, this too shall pass.  I just think it might pass more quickly if I could crawl into a corner, suck my thumb and howl like an injured pup for a few days...do you think I could get away with that?

I can't believe I'm saying this

I may actually be ready for our fall schedule to start up.

(Gulp!)

Okay, I don't have the school schedule all sorted yet, but I'm actually starting to look forward to getting back into a (mostly) fixed routine.  This summer has been so crazy and random that I'm beginning to crave something more consistent.  I don't expect the feeling to last very long, but it's certainly an interesting experience for me! 

My one area of concern is our homeschool group's co-op.  It's a good thing, with a lot of great people involved....just for some reason after about the third meeting, I want to run screaming down the middle of the highway and never go back.  I do not understand why this is, but there you have it.  This semester I'm playing piano for the choir and teaching a beginning knitting class, so maybe I'll be distracted enough that the urge to flee won't be so fierce.  Otherwise I may have to designate someone to tie a rope to my leg and sit on it after the second week. 

Now, the fact that I'm ready for a little autumnal organization does NOT mean that I'm ready for cold weather!  Cooler weather, fine....crisp nights, fine....turning on the heat?  Not fine.  I am dreading our heating bills so intensely that it's almost a physical pain.  I'm really praying that we'll see a difference in how long a tank of propane lasts us, now that we have the new boiler.  (Oh please God, let it last longer!)  It would be lovely if we had a mild winter, too.  Good thing I don't ask for much, eh?

Just a little cute....

I've been chasing my tail (as usual) but I thought I'd give you a quick glimpse of some of our newest residents here at Grouchy House.  Whaddaya think?

My photography skills are sadly lacking, as has been noted before, but aren't they cute?  The nice thing about taking pictures of kittens is that they're already fuzzy, so if your focus isn't great it's hard to tell.  Ha!  We're having a lot of fun with these little guys.  It'll be hard to give them up!