Another reason to not have more kids: Camping

Sometimes I get these Super-Mom-like notions in my head of what would be a really great idea. Like this one: gosh, it would be so fun to take Emily camping with friend-of-her-choice for a WHOLE weekend on the coast, AND take the dog.

Not that it wasn't fun, the girls were super stars, and earned all three levels of the Junior Ranger program thing they do at state parks here in Oregon. We swam, we hiked, we played, we sang, we laughed, we ate our body weight in s'mores. But, ohmygosh. Something about the dull, stuck inside-ness of the winter must have washed out of my working memory how very difficult it is to camp sometimes with children. Or, let me say, how difficult it is to camp the way I LIKE to, when there are children. That is not to say it's not fun, it's just....work.

Something in little girls clicks at the age of 6 and suddenly getting along and being nice isn't cool. What's cool now I guess is this snotty, pretend we are teenagers with more cool "stuff" than you game that drives me up the wall and tears my heart into a million pieces all at once. It hurts to watch this mean, competitive backstabbing attitude become the social norm in my sweet little girl. Watching the pain in her eyes at points during the frantic "Oh yeah? My limo has..." just kills me. Can't we all just get along? I remember not liking most females growing up, but I don't remember it starting this young, or being so...materialistic and vicious.

The amount of dirt that works it's way into every crevice of all people and equipment grows exponentially with each living being that is present, or so it feels like. Also, I take my child for granted. Not every child has such a respectful curiosity for nature. Some children, for instance, seem to have this kill it/eat it situation where if you can't become intimate with it, it's scary/gross/poisonous or all of the above and must cease to live or exist. This also reminds me that when the dog relaxes a bit, there are several patches of unidentified goo that need to be picked off or cut out of his fur.

My dog, bless his little soul, is not a camping dog. I have gained pounds of guilt for every instance I glanced at him, shivering and shaking and looking at me with that pitiful "WWWHHHYYYYY do you have be tethered to something like this in this cold, cold place with all of these people and dogs I can't play with" look. He would nearly jump for joy (as much as his stubbiness allows for at least) when we crawled into the tent for the night and would whine until someone let him crawl to the bottom of a sleeping bag where he could finally cuddle up to someone and be loved and warm.

This morning the bickering came to a head when the girls were arguing over which of the *identical* camping chairs they got to sit in. I moved them to opposite sides of the campsite, and for the first time in three days, had some quiet. And it came to me...as much as I love children, other people's children really get to me sometimes. I can work with them yes, but when they are a part of my family for days at a time, I become someone I don't know that I like. I don't like the way they chew, or the nickname they have given my daughter, I don't like the tone of their voice when they are picking on my kid, or the way they pick their nose and eat it. When they roll all over everyone's bed buck naked, I am surprisingly grossed out. I hate when they ask my kid if her mom and dad ever have sex because it opens a door that no one is really ready to explore. It drives me batty when they burp as loud as they can in my ear and I can smell it, when they make farting and pooping and peeing noises, and when they ask to hold my dog's leash only to yank on it so hard it sends him into a coughing fit. And then, when they say I am the best cooker ever and give me a hug I feel like the worst person ever for thinking or feeling all those things and nearly cry out of guilt. Is this any easier when there is another parent there? Who knows. I don't.

We got home, dropped of the Friend and unloaded. We showered the grime off (why is it that scrubbing the shower can take 45 minutes to get it clean and then 7 minutes of showering renders it worthy of a pig-sty?) and Emily looked up at me as we were watching a movie and said "Momma, I really just want to lay in bed and snuggle and have 5 minutes where it's just me and you. Camping was fun, but I wish it was just you and I, even though I wanted her to come with us. I miss you."

*tear*

So we climbed into bed, and promptly feel into a cuddled-induced sleep for almost three hours.

I will now be spending the rest of my night on the quiet porch, with a glass of ginger ale, and nothing but my thoughts.

Or the latest episode of True Blood and a friend. We'll see.

Are fixed dogs supposed to be this horny?

Because mine is. Seriously. Every night upon following us into the bedroom for bed he has a little humping session with his doggie bed. The other night when the Boy was over and playing music on his guitar for me (*swoon*), he started humping his toy. My mom was petting him the other day and he started humping her leg. He humped my daughter's stuffed cat yesterday. He licks himself and humps the air.

This is getting ridiculous.

clouds

I think I need to dance it out or something. Maybe climb to the top of a mountain and scream? Life is fantastic, yet there is this mounting cloud of emotion building over my head. It's a bipolar cloud, one minute it's raining marshmallows of happiness and joy, the next sourness drops of angst and grump. Emily says that means it's time for another naked dance party. I am leaning towards agreement on this.

Today I got my brakes fixed for free. I love free. They started making this awful grinding noise this weekend and I got all preemptive pissy about it because I JUST had them fixed in September and it was almost $500. I had visions of passing by the garage on the bus to see my car sitting there waiting to be taken home for months because I can't afford to fix it right now. And then? Oh, hey there warranty, you are my best friend today. Shiny and new. A lesson that I need to not assume to worst, because it rarely is the worst.

I went out this weekend. I was not excited about it at the beginning of the evening because I hate the part of it where that one drunk guy won't go away(I don't mean to sound stuck up about it either, it just seems to happen in bars. And not just to me), and I was having one of those days where none of my clothes fit the way I wanted them to and then when they did, my shoes didn't look right. I hate those days. Anyways, Saturday a friends' friend and his band were playing and she said I MUST go. So I did. Because she is pretty damn great and I like having friends that live here. There was that one drunk guy, he was Australian and I didn't believe him at first, I thought he was faking the accent until he pulled out a passport to prove it to me. But overall, it was a great night. Her friend, I am totally smitten with because he is cute, sweet, and I have a weakness for guitar and bass players who can sing. We got flowers from some guy at the bar who felt bad about the Australian guy, and I got to spend the evening with awesome people. Another lesson in not being a sourpuss before the situation calls for it. I had fun. And I realized just how much I miss having close friends that live close by. I must keep cultivating that...

I keep getting whiffs of pee. If the dog peed in the house, I am going to be very put off.

Over the last few years or more, I have put a focus on being really intentional about the people I let into my life. And this has done me much good. I have let go of some really unhealthy relationships, and made peace with situations that were beyond my control. But there are a few people that I have held close to me through out all of this because I really like the idea of them in my life, of the way it feels when they are actually present in my life. At one time, all of these people were very vital parts of my life. I couldn't differentiate between what used to be and what is now without feeling like I was disrespecting where they used to stand within my heart. This has taught me a great deal about the lengths I will go for people sometimes.

But I can only stretch so far for some of these people. Recently I realized that through my efforts to keep one particular person in my life, I have kept in my mind an idea of who we used to be around each other. And I used to be someone very different. Such as, my tendency to be a door mat to certain people. And my tendency to put ungodly amounts of effort into certain people and not enough into others. I have been done with that part of me for so long, but in failing to see the bigger picture and possibility, I have become her again around this person. I am not going to be the one that makes all the effort anymore. I am letting go of sole responsibility for maintaining these friendships so that I can free up some energy to direct to people who are capable of acting like they give a damn. And I am *really* tired of the arrogance that comes along with some people thinking that because they aren't here, my life sucks ass.

I am ready to cultivate more reciprocal relationships in my life. And I don't mean just letting people in that will give back what they are getting (even though that's cool too), but relationships that of mutual benefit and respect. I am ready for people in my life that are there throughout, not just when they are lonely or have nothing better to do. I am demanding that I treat people in my life with more respect, and I am demanding that the people in my life treat me with more as well.

This post wasn't meant to sound like an epic declaration. Just a reminder to myself that it's ok to let these people go. Because I am tired of the drama and the pain that comes with trying to keep these people around. No more fairweather friends.

Breaking through sloth

The sloth-like behavior was nice for a time but it began to be too much. SO! I went for a run. My first real run since my knee injury a few months ago, which I didn't really blog about because the whole thing was just so gracefully ridiculous.

Anyhow. I ran. And it was awesome. I decided to start the Couch to 5k program over again, so I started with week one. It was much easier than I could have hoped for this time around. Maybe that is because it isn't 95 degrees outside.

I had dinner with a good friend tonight and as we sat talking and catching up on this crazy life I realized something. I am happy. Not that I wasn't happy before, but for the first time in a while, my stress and my problems aren't defining me because I'm not letting them. There is plenty I could complain about, but I don't really want to. It is a relief to realize I have reached this point in my life.

Also, I would just like to say, for the record, that the Avett Brothers are awesome.

quasi-retraction

Let me start by saying that I consider my first post on sex to be a success. Not in that it was superb though. No, but it was a success in all it's medocrity and unedited glory because I have received no less than seven emails complaining about the obscenity of it all. Heh. No one mentioned that I switch the perspective from which I speak from "I" to "you" about a million times. No one complained about the run-on sentences I may someday be famous for. It was all complaints about the fact I have now publicly admitted I have had sex and enjoyed it, as well as had bad sex and have the balls to complain about it. As if this was a surprise. I mean, my daughter was conceived via immaculate conception and all...

So this is the point where I say I am sorry. And I really am sorry that I have offended certain people. Others, I think they were just looking for something to pin point and complain about.

Seeing and not being able to reach.

So I have been complaining online and off for more than just a few months now that I feel a little lost as far as my education goes. I have an interest in the health/medical field, but nursing won't cut it. I wanted more of an integrative approach to health and wellness, I want to help people live healthier and more fulfilling lives in a way that encompasses many kinds of health, not just physical. My problem has been that I never really knew of a way to do this without being in school for about 11 different bachelor degrees for the rest of my freaking life.

Enter fate via my friend Nancy and the Institute of Integrative Nutrition. OMG, it's perfect. It encompasses all of the above. They do distance learning. They help you find clients to work with while you are still in school. It is the most logical first step for me. Except that whole financial bit. This program is only $4500, which is cheaper than most by far. And if I can pay in a lump sum, it's only $4100.

I want to do this like woah. Do I just jump and trust that I will find a means to pay as I go? I have been living off of financial aid long enough to not have any of that monetary cushion underneath me. Paying rent is a bit of a priority. And finding a job is no walk in the part here. But I am going to try. And I am looking for/exploring other avenues to find the money (odd jobs, promies of work/goods in exchange for donations, fundraising, sugar daddies/mommas, etc. Ideas/suggestions welcome). The program starts in February, so ya know, oodles of time to figure it out. Like...10 days. Oy. I have about a third of what I need. So, it's a start. And I actually have a few potential freelance jobs so that is encouraging. I want to just go for it and hope it all works out, but that feels so...irresponsible.

It won't be the end of the world if I have to wait until next February. Frustrating? Yes, but manageable. I am ready though, to start doing more than just school. Seeing where I want to go is exciting to me, having an avenue to pursue. Now, I just have to overcome the challenge of monetarily getting there. I think I am up to it though.

In the meantime, I am taking a class from Nancy to experience more of what she does and what she got from going to school there. You all should check out her website.

amusing apes author amazing apologues

Sometimes life is really exciting. Actually, let me rephrase that. Life is exciting if we are looking at it through the right lens. And sometimes, what is exciting is also kind of scary. And exhausting.

About a year ago I started writing a story of sorts. It started in a writing class, but continued on my own because it was a good way to process memories for me. You see, it is about a group of people and a period of time in my life that I did a really good job of running away from and not looking back at, with the exception of one friendship that graces my life with its presence from time to time. Anyhow. Someone read part of it and then passed it along to someone who read it and got in touch with me to tell me that if I keep writing it like it were going to be a book, they would help me make it so. I have always enjoyed writing, but never considered it as a career. Or as a hobby I let other people in on. But the idea is intriguing to me. And recently I have started to seriously consider the option of being a freelance writer, at least on the side, and what sorts of doors that would open for me. So, I have decided to write a book. Now that the idea is planted, I am curious to see how far it goes, but am writing without focusing on the outcome.

It exhausting though. I generally as a rule don't spend a whole lot of time sitting with periods of my past. But this involves hours of reliving it. Of putting myself back there and sorting through snippets of conversation, of digging up people in my mind, remembering all their quirks and endearing traits, filling in holes the way I think it would ring true to life, and acknowledging emotions and choices I made that I have never fessed up to and am not necessarily proud of. It's like free therapy. And a little like culture shock every time I finish another segment and come back to the present to find myself in my living room, in my home, in a self that I love and respect and am more comfortable than I ever would have dreamed of at the time this project stemmed from.

What.
A.
Fucking.
Trip.

Confessions of a closeted 14 year old girl

So, sharing my child with her other parent is one big learning experience after another. A lesson in patience here, logic and reasoning there, and then there are times when I am just left confused as to why anyone would think certain things he does are a good idea.

Example: Letting a 5 year old watch High School Musical, Hannah Montana, Sonny With a Chance, or Grease.

Now, some of the above, such as Grease, may be a classic that we all remember singing along to growing up, however, the thing to emphasize here is that when I watched Grease, I was old to know what a virgin is, and get that they were saying Sandra D is a nerd for not going "to bed till she's legally wed", and also stable enough in my own opinions to think that was rather callous of them to sing about in public when the poor girl needed a friend. It was funny though, and catchy and overall a good movie. But. Not coming out of my sweet little girls mouth. Have you ever watched the faces of people in the grocery store when they are ogling at the fact your five year old is dancing around singing "Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee, lousy with virginity, Won't go to bed till I'm legally wed, I can't, I'm Sandra Dee, Watch it, hey, I'm Doris Day, I was not brought up that way..." while she swoons over the Robert Pattinson display? It really makes people question your parenting ability at times. Actually, screw other people, it makes me question it too. It is just a little nerve-crawling, teeth-grinding inducingingly creepy to hear out of her mouth.

Let's move on to the Disney pop princesses now shall we? Now, originally, I was tolerant of Hannah Montana. The content was, while being developmentally WAY older than five years old, decent for the most part. The thing I have a problem with is the whole sending messages to my beautiful, unique little girl about how she should look and act to fit in. Because that is just bull shit. (That is also a blog topic for another time. One I do believe I have touched on in the past, here. ) The thing that really annoys me now is that they all are little rock stars in the making. With those crappy, pop, catchy songs that get stuck in my head so damn easily. Most of them most likely didn't write their own songs, probably don't know how to play the bass guitar they are clutching in that music video, and by the way, thanks for teaching a new way to waggle your hips to my tiny little dancer. (I am comforted by the fact that Emily will also croon along with Dean Martin, wail along with the Beatles, and can rock along with Ani DiFranco too)

But I have a confession to make. I secretly enjoy some of it. *gasp*. Not because I think it is GOOD, people, but because it is so easy to dance all sloppy like around my living room to. Emily and I have dance-time when we are too amped up or sad or angry or frustrated, where we turn off the lights and dance. For someone who isn't a dancer or a singer, some of this crap is really easy to move to. In private. NEVER in public. And, while I am being honest and confessing, I, against my will, get sucked into those evil little shows. It dawned on me last night as Emily and I were watching Wizards of Waverly Place (on YouTube, helping people too cheap or totally against paying for cable still get indoctrinated with the media's subtle brainwashing every day!) that I was laughing at the show! Granted, it was only a small chuckle, but it was enough to make it impossible to ignore that I was sucked into these adolescent plot lines and actually did want Sonny and Chad to FINALLY admit they like each other.

I'M DOOMED! There must be help for people like me somewhere, right? I mean, what if I can't shake it? What if I find myself late at night watching entire SEASONS of this crap, by myself? I will buy those teeny bopper magazines with the pictures of the latest, trendiest stars, and cut out pictures of my, I mean EMILY'S, favorite ones. I will purchase all of their cheaply produced albums, put them all on my ipod to bop along to everywhere I go, they will replace the Elliot Smith, the Patsy Cline, and the Weezer. (NOOoooo! Not the Weezer!) Will I end up as one of those Twilight Mom's that stormed the set of the latest greatest teen obsession to the extremity that they had to beef up on security to keep them away? I can see it now. I will just pop into Starbucks after dropping Em off at school for the day to get my non-fat no foam vanilla latte, and then on the sly, while everyone else thinks I am at a meeting, I will creep over to the super secret filming location where I meet up with my other crazed, stuck-in-their-adolesence moms. Together, in our skinny jeans and puffy jackets with fur around the collar, that we 'borrowed' out of our daughter's closets, we will stalk the stars of the show and sip latte's until we absolutely have to peel ourselves away to go pick up our children. But not before changing into our business suits and mussing our hair just enough to look like we have been stuck in a board room reviewing next year's budget. (Numbers always make my eyes glaze over and my brain go numb.) Emily will have no idea until she goes to retrieve that puffy jacket for a night out with her friends and finds the map to the set in the pocket and the magazine cut out of the hunky teenage star that will be half my age (worn at the edges and creased from gazing at it for hours on end, of course).

I can't let this happen to me! I have to get back to my bitter, "pop-culture is lame" self. I mean, I OWN SKINNY JEANS ALREADY! That is just another step closer. I must find some sort of outpatient recovery program that will prescribe hours of listening to the Pixies and Ramones, we will watch avant-garde films like Tank Girl, and sing rebellious, angry girl music around the camp fire. It may cost me the equivalent of four of those low budget bubble gum pop films, but it will be worth it in the end.

I fully intend to do this. Right after Vanessa leaves town. We have plans to see New Moon this weekend...

Don't judge. Or judge, but still LOoooOOOVe me despite my weaknesses.

"i've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you, each one a line or two, i'm fine baby, how are you?"

How is it November already? When did this happen? I did not consent! Not that it's too terribly bad, but as the end of the year draws near I recede into my little homebody shell once more and begin to take stock of what's what in my life. This use to also bring on a little depression and frustration that my life wasn't where I wanted it to be or thought it should be, but I find this year that I enjoy providing this opportunity for myself. The self reflection is a chance for me to slow down my life, and intentionally take a moment for me. There is a lot I could say that isn't going the way I want it to in life, but it doesn't matter. I have done what I can and will continue to do so. Beyond that, I haven't let it stress me out more than it should. And damn that feels good. And my house is quiet. It is home again. My mother moved out and sometimes the silence and emptiness shocks me when Emily is away at her dads, but I am also reveling in the physical space I now have. Last night when I couldn't sleep, I was able to put on music and sing to myself in the dark and disturb no one who had to be up in the morning. Ahhhh. It is so divine, the waking up back into my home that I feel like is taking place right now.

This weekend I head to Seattle for the young adult OWL training and to visit boy. I am looking forward to the training. And the boy. But the training is easy to talk about whereas the boy just makes me feel like an idiot when I try to say anything about the situation. Partly because there is intentionally no definition or label, which feels perfect for my life right now but makes it a bitch and half to figure out how to explain. Or process. I am ok with that for right now though. Back to the training. I have been trying to get to an Our Whole Lives training for years now. My church tried to send me to the elementary and high school ones, but it never worked out, so I am really excited to be going to this one. Not only because I think it's a great program, but because it is coming with the bonus of pertaining to my life too.

Emily and I recovered from our bout with swine flu quite nicely. I caught shit in the grocery store for wearing the shirt that I made myself. I think it's rather awesome, some people are more easily offended than me though, and while I feel bad, it makes me want to wear the shirt even more. (It has a winking pig on the front and on the back it says "I survived H1N1 and all I got was this lousy shirt") And while I am sorry that it offends, I really feel like at this point in my life, if I can't laugh at what isn't right and count my blessings for the things that are, I would be sad. And that is just not something I am interested in making time for.

I am going home for thanksgiving. Like, to my fathers. This has enough loaded history to give me material for two or three months worth of NanoWrimo. So I won't get into it here. Suffice to say, I am anxious yet excited and relieved. The older I get the more I accept that there are parts of that town that I love, that I will always love, and that intrinsically a part of who I am. And that I miss it. Yikes.

Tides

Life has a way of surging all at once, and a tremendous amount of joy flows in.

My daughter is growing into such an amazing person, and I love that I get to watch her and discover life along with her.

My best friend has spent a good deal of time here with us this summer and it has been so wonderful to have her. We met at youth cons when we were about 15, have never lived closer than four hours away, which is the distance between us now, and sometimes have gone a year or two without being in touch. It is nice that our lives have reached a point in life where we are able to be a bigger and more regular part of each others lives. She has decided after spending so much time down here, that in two and a half years, when she has reached a certain point in her job, she will be moving down here. Yay!




We have a new puppy. Her name is Rosie and she is the cutest thing ever. Now that she has been here for a week we are getting more familiar with each other's rhythms, and its much more harmonious. It has been hard for Emily giving up the vast amounts of one on one time we have together. But all in all, she is a delightful addition to our little family.

But just as the joy rolls in, the tide goes out and in rolls sorrow and pain. Too many of my friends are sick. One has swine flu, another is dealing with the pain of losing her father at the worst but dealing with him being sick at the least (neither good options). Another has just been diagnosed for a second time with melanoma. There are so many people hurting. All at once.

It never seems to come in small waves, but just the big giant ones. At a time in my life where I am realizing how much fear I hold on to, and am trying to let go of, the influx of stress does nothing to help me.