June 2, 2007

In Heavy Traffic Friday Afternoon

Driving home during the 5 o’clock rush drives me crazy.  I’m definitely known for dropping the F-bomb because I’m very impatient with the slowpokes in front of me, or those people who pass me and then move into my lane only to drive at a pace just under the speed limit.

What the hell is wrong with these people?

And the left turns?  I get so angry with left turns.  I’d drive in the right lane, but all the cautious (read: slow) drivers are in that one.

And so, when the speed demon in the red Mustang passed me, moved into my lane and then proceeded to turn left? 

I blew my freakin’ stack. 

I had Dawson in the car, so I made the conscious effort not to swear.

“Stupid jerk!” I yelled.

“Fuck dem cars!” I heard from the back seat.

My mouth dropped open.  

Apparently I have said the F-word in the car with Dawson with me.

I’m a bad influence.

But I laughed.  I was shocked, and yet I laughed.

What else was I going to do?  Scold the little boy for something he heard from his Mama (I can’t even remember when I said that)?

“That’s right, honey!  What you said!”  I replied.

(Photo Credit, David Pierce.)

May 31, 2007

The Hurdle

I’m exhausted.  Tired.  Depressed.  Ready to crawl into bed and sleep for days.

I barely get any rest these days.  I have no energy.  It’s a miracle I managed to organize some areas of my house last weekend.

I feel like I’m expected to go, go, go, nonstop; and I have to be perfect, because people look up to perfection.

• Do this, do that, be here, be there. 
• Clean the house, weed the flower beds, do laundry, argue with my husband about not doing the laundry.
• Get frustrated with Dawson when he leaves his toys all over the place, then feel guilty for feeling frustrated with Dawson.
• Resent my husband because he can take off on a whim, no guilt, and I’m jealous.
• Go grocery shopping, stick to the budget, pay the bills, argue with cable company about unnecessary charges.
• Go to church, volunteer my time to charity organizations even though I’m swamped at home.  Feel guilty for missing church because I am so damn tired and stressed.  Realize that church is the only quiet place I can go to reflect and pray and think.
• Always keep a smile on my face, even when difficult, because it’s not good to show people your weaknesses, they’ll hold them against you.
• Worry about my son; is he eating enough, is he well-rounded, is he smart, is he too skinny, but then feel stupid for worrying and try to stop.  Then feel worse for not worrying enough.
• Don’t tell my husband how I’m feeling because he may think I’m nuts or he won’t understand.  He doesn’t get that I’m overburdened and I’m not supposed to tell him because I’m Super Mom and I wanted this life, so now I have to be the alpha parent and deal with it.
• Cry about things that I can’t explain.  Cry about people having babies.  Cry about the dog and whether he’s loved enough.  Cry about the future and what it will bring.  Cry about my friends, and worry about whether or not they’re happy.  Cry about things that are so stupid it makes you cry even more.

Sometimes I have these moments of depression and I can’t explain them.  I always manage to climb my way out of the chaos, but I worry about the next episode. 

The funny thing is, I’ve tried the anti-depressants.  It just made me more out of synch.  My doctor doesn’t think I need the drugs because the things I worry about are normal.  Most mothers experience these feelings.  Normal.  Hah.

“It’s how you choose to handle what’s thrown your way,” he said.

I’m feeling like a crazy person, but I know I’m not crazy.  Crazy people don’t sit around and wonder if they are crazy, they just are.

My stomach is churning.  I might be hungry, but the thought of food is nauseating.

I’m….

I don’t know.

And, Erin.  Dear sweet Erin is experiencing some of this.   I want to reach out and hug her.  I want to tell her that she’ll get past this.  And she will.  But she doesn’t need me to tell her that.  She knows.  It’s just a bit cloudy when you stop the medication.  It’s a hurdle.  I’ve tripped on the hurdle so many times.  One day I will jump it.  Just not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Or next week.  But when the day comes, I’ll know.  I will know.

April 12, 2007

I’ve Been Interviewed

I love interviews.  I love learning about other people.  The fabulous author of A Mommy Story was interviewed by Mrs. Chicky last week and I thought it would be fun to answer a few questions.  Here’s how it works:  If you haven’t played yet and want to be interviewed, send your e-mail to thedanafiles [at] hotmail [dot] com.  I’ll send you five unique questions that you can answer and post at your blog.  Once your interview is posted, be sure to send me the link and I’ll link to it here so everyone can learn more about you! 

Here’s what Christina asked me: 

1. What is your greatest fear?

My greatest fear is dying young and leaving Dawson without his mother.  I can’t imagine not being alive to watch him grow up, to see him graduate from high school and college, to dance with him at his wedding and be there for him when he has children of his own. 

The logical side of my brain knows that Doug could always remarry and Dawson would have a wonderful step-mother, but is that really good enough?  How can you replace a child’s mother?  I don’t have any plans to die before my time, but ultimately that’s up to God and I worry about car accidents and plane crashes and tripping down the stairs and breaking my neck.  It’s a bit neurotic I know, but that’s the one fear that scares me most.

2. If you could choose between being rich (unlimited supply of money) or in perfect shape (at the perfect size with no exercise, and eating anything you want), which would you choose?

As someone who has been on the heavy, stocky side since the age of ten, I’ve always had issues with my body.  If you had asked me this question 6 months ago, I’d have asked for the perfect figure, never having to exercise and being able to eat whatever I’d like. 

Now that I’m focusing on Weight Watchers and going to the gym 5 days a week, I realize it’s up to me to change my shape and maintain a healthy weight.  Even though having a baby readjusted my entire body, I’m not as easily discouraged as I once was.  I’ve lost many inches and a few pounds.  I know I can’t expect to lose the fat overnight when I sure as heck didn’t put it all on in one day.

If I had unlimited amounts of money….Hmmm.  I hate typing those words because no good can come from being filthy rich.  I imagine I would turn into a spoiled brat like Paris Hilton or Ivanka Trump. 

I would probably have multiple plastic surgeries performed because I’d never be happy with myself and money would seem to resolve those problems. 

I believe I’d donate to charities and important causes, but would I be doing it for the sheer joy of helping others?  Or would it be done as a way to boost social status? 

Would my big house in the Caribbean really keep me happy?  Would my kids have a feeling of entitlement and decide never to hold a job and learn to be self-sufficient?

I suppose my answer is that I’d want neither the perfect body nor an unlimited bank account.  I feel wonderful knowing that everything I own, everything I’ve wanted, I’ve had to work for.  I thank my father for teaching me that valuable lesson.

3. What is the happiest memory you have?

It’s a toss up between my wedding day and the day Dawson was born.  Both are so very important to me.  These are the mile markers in my journey of life.  I can’t choose one over the other because neither would have been possible if I had not met my husband.  Love is a funny emotion.  It makes a person crazy, happy and goofy all at once.  Even when my husband drives me completely nuts with his quirky habits, I love him as much (if not more) as I did when we tied the knot.

Little Dawson, my Doodlebug, is the light of my life.  He is stubborn (like his Momma), determined (like his Daddy), intelligent (like mother), playful (like my father), observant (like Doug’s father) and cautious (like Doug’s mother).  When I look at my son, I see myself, I see my husband and our parents and all the personality traits he inherited from us.  I can’t imagine my life without the Doodlebug.  I thank God for giving me this beautiful boy.  

4. How many kids do you think Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt will adopt?

I think Angie (yes, I call her Angie) and Brad will adopt as many children as they can afford to love and care for.  They are very committed to their children.  I admire them as parents because even though they are very famous celebrities, they make time for Maddox, Zahara, Shiloh and Pax.  A nanny is not the primary caregiver of the Jolie-Pitt kids.  It’s wonderful to see how much they love their children.

5. Do you believe in ghosts?

I do believe in ghosts.  I think I’ve witnessed a few as a child.  I can’t remember much of the experience, but as a young child, I’d often talk to my grandfather who had passed away before I was born. 

My mother and grandmother would tell me the hair on the back of their necks would stand up because I would talk to my “imaginary” grandfather with such detail.  I had conversations about things I couldn’t possibly know about.  My mom thinks it was a way for Grandpa to communicate because he left this Earth too soon.  It’s strange to me, but it does explain my fascination with shows like Medium and The Ghost Whisperer.

March 8, 2007

Another Blue Day

This morning I awoke to the sound of one lonely bird chirping.  There are several feet of snow outside and yet this little bird sang his song cheerfully as though Spring was arriving at any second.

I lay in my sleepy stupor, listening to the little sparrow (cardinal? robin?).  His joy to be alive rang in my ears.

What have I been so depressed about?  Why can’t I just get out of bed with glee?  With the same happiness to be alive? 

Why can’t I appreciate the good people and feelings in my life?  I have a kind husband, who does love me, even though I talk myself into believe he’s simply stuck with me.  I have a beautiful son who’s world revolves around my every move.  He craves my attention, my love, my hugs and kisses; and while I shower him with affection I sometimes feel like the little alien is smothering me. 

When did I turn into such a mess?  There are so many questions I have, but yet I can’t find the answers.  Have I always felt this way?  Why didn’t I notice it before?  Am I suffering depression or am I just underappreciated and tired?

Is this just seasonal because it’s winter and I hate the damn snow and cold weather?  Am I just anxious for life to perk up?  Perhaps I long for warm summer days when the sun is shining and the Vitamin D is soaking into my skin, making me feel more alive.

My mother will tell me to take Serotonin.  Or maybe she’ll tell me to pray the Rosary and I’ll feel better.  I will laugh at her quirky ways.  I will laugh at how she always “knows” what’s best for me.  Why don’t I know what’s best for me?

Instead I’m going to try to learn from the sparrow (cardinal? robin?) and sing a happy song of joy.  Joy that I’m alive.  And like my grandmother once said, “This too, shall pass.”