Moments of Calm

Almost 9am, A is downstairs in her preschool room, I’m sitting here in the computer room at the community center. A humming noise comes from the six or so Pentium 2 computers around me and like conversation pieces, they draw attention, but don’t really do anything. A friend told me that what I’ve set up here for the kids looks great. Unfortunately, only 10% of it is actually functioning. I’ll keep this in mind for next time (note to self: when designing a computer-based program for adolescents, be sure to get computers that work). But that’s not really the point.

Time seems to stop here. There’s the white noise of the air conditioning, the faint shish, shish shish of a custodian sweeping outside my closed door, and the clicking of the computer keys. I’m reminded of (1) how seldom the moments are when things are relatively right with the world and we can be alone with our thoughts—when concerns about finances, food, our children, etc. seem so far away, if only for a while and (2) how much of a blessing it is to have any of these kinds of moments. Why is it that I continually alternate between these kind of dreamy, romantic posts and posts that convey my utter and complete hysteria at the chaos of my life? Absolutely disgusting, really. Oh well. In any case it is helpful, I’ve found, to try to discern what creates calm moments like this. I think it comes down to good decisions. Getting up at 6am instead of sleeping in till 7. Actually having time to shower. Leaving the kitchen almost clean and vacuuming the living room before we go. Giving A time to get ready with out literally pushing her from bed, to bathroom, to booster chair, to car seat. Making pancakes, as requested by A, and having some myself. Sometimes I’m rushing so much I think if I had the option of feeding A a smoothie intravenously in the car I would. Sippy cups are not too far from this, I fear. Other good decisions: emailing S.O. to tell him about my day before I left the house. Consciously trying to relax on the way in to the daycare. Remembering to bring A’s green things (a cucumber and a Granny Smith apple) for her preschool homework. These good decisions led to a certain amount of togetherness that makes sitting here and having a moment of calm, possible.

Of course, the fact that I was driving like a madwoman to get A to preschool on time, had to swerve wildly to avoid a truck merging unexpectedly into my lane (he probably wasn't expecting me to come zooming up beside him)…just water under the bridge, that if we think too deeply about would destroy this fragile peace that currently exists.

It occurs to me that most of my moments of calm involve some kind of distant noise (computers humming, wind through trees, water) and writing. What are your moments of calm like?

Burnin' a Hole

Woooooo! Let's see...what should I do with this wad of cash. First, not lose it. That would be bad. Wishlist? Already started (see previous post). Add to that Boston Market for me and A tonight, a NEW BRA is absolutely critical!!!!; a bottle of wine (or two); a cute summer skirt from Old Navy and some t-shirts for the summer. Underwear and socks for A in addition to summer clothes already on the list...a non-Walmart hair cut (apologies to all the Walmart devotees out there), an eyebrow, chin AND leg wax....

And with the 1.07 left over, I'll look on the internet and see if you buy new brakes and an axle for a 2000 Infiniti.

2 Hours to Go on Thursday

Two hours before I need to get my butt on the highway to the community center to meet with the kids. I don't want to go. I would much rather get myself together--sort the papers that have to be graded; sort the laundry that has accumulated in misc. piles and baskets around the house; run the dishwasher; vacuum the living room; surf the internet for a good salmon recipe for tonight's dinner; compile a shopping list that will last A and I for the next week on thirty dollars; vacuum out the car, actually put on some makeup and iron some clothes (i.e. stop walking around like I'm either to preparing to or have just run a 5K (depending on if you're close enough to sniff my pits. Perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but still admittedly gross).

Instead, I'm stuck on the phone with the DMV, trying to find out how to sell the Honda. For 275.00 I can get rid of it, baby--broken door locks, busted water pump, cracked head gasket and all. S.O. Asked if I was going to call around to see if I could get a better price. Uhhmm...No. In my face is the option of getting rid of the car today, vs. calling around, shelling out money to advertise in the paper, and still having the car hanging around like a rusty doppelganger...What would you do? Don't answer that. I should know how to sell the car but I don't...I mean, I know it involves a transfer of the title but beyond that I'm basically ignorant. However, with the phone lodged between ear and shoulder (15 minutes and counting), what better opportunity than to check in here?

I'm already thinking about how to spend the money. Summer clothes for A., a trip down to visit friends without having to take the cheap option for everything (i.e., "Ah, let's not go to Chuckie Cheese--the McDonald's playland is right across the street!")...some cash to get drycleaning done so I don't think I need to buy new clothes...and maybe a pair of cheap sandals. Already, that's stretching things a bit. But, I've just got off the phone. Take the title, the notice of security interest filing, and a bill of sale, get the cash, take the tags back to DMV, cancel the insurance.

I'm on my way. Chuckie Cheese and Payless here we come.

Changing Who You Are

Think about the thing about you that you secretly hate the most. Not your gut, your hair, etc. A character trait (if there is such a thing, which, contrary to postmodern theorizing, I think there is, based solely on a study of my own neuroses...or perhaps my bad character traits are simply a story whose fiction I have come to believe--which suggests these flaws do "exist," if only in the conversations I have with myself...okay, I'm truly going off the deep end. ANYWAY).
Once you are an adult, how do you go about changing the most important things about yourself that you don't like? Jung says that we should create a new reality for ourselves, deliberately, through language and action. Of course, the issue is the difficulty in embarking on these activities. I propose that we...me...I have a love/hate relationship with my bad character flaws. They are really bad for you, say, like tequila...but indulging in it feels...comforting? No, it's always bad (think: slapping yourself on the hand constantly), but you can't stop...so maybe it's more like nicotine...

We CRAVE those flaws because when we do, we....Damn! I crave my flaws because when I do, I can fall back into comforting routines and rituals, that, although really self-destructive and negative, are familiar. A person I know talked about the physical and mental withdrawal from smoking cigarettes, how she just stayed in her apartment, staring, hugging a pillow. Thinking about trying to change what's really not healthy in my relationships with my significant others is sort of like that. Because, hugging the pillow and staring, I have to face the ugliness of my behavior. And who wants to do that?

As you can see, I'm trying to talk myself into change. Mother's Day was yesterday and I feel like a crappy mom, a crappy wife. I suck at saving, so instead of the cool helium and banner party I wanted to create for A.'s third birthday, I had to settle for some dollar store party hats, bubbles and eight Spongebob party cups. But that's only the material part of my failure. The time is now to proactively deal with why she follows me from room to room. Why I tell her things that I know her little brain is construing as somehow being her fault. It is slowly breaking my heart to hear her say "Can I come with you?" "Stay with me..." "Are we all going to stay there together?" Please God, let me not through my bad character traits, sap her of her joyful spirit. Please don't let her hate me or herself because of my choice to be more than just her mommy, and PLEASE let me stop aiming negativity at her because the intellectual work I also love seems so far away, or because things in MY life aren't the way I would like. She deserves so much more than that. Phrased more positively: How can I make her proud of the woman that I am continuing to become? Phrased more intimately: How can I make myself proud of the woman I am continuing to become?

Exercise

I got up this morning and walked ALMOST three miles. There's a nice spring chill in the air that I know I will miss once we move down South. Or, maybe it will just be displaced a few months. As we all know, I've been trying to get my life organized. It's my life's work. I have put everything into a little homemade booklet that, now that it's relatively complete, I hardly look at (mental note: look at my little book every morning). One thing that I wrote, however, is that when I write I'm healthier, mentally and emotionally. At this point, that statement is little more than a hypothesis, since I don't actually write on a consistent basis. Despite this, I'm interested in testing it out. What can it hurt? I don't want to get too far into an answer to that question since guilt is just waiting in the wings to tell me all of the things that I SHOULD be doing besides sitting here at the computer.

I have GOT to get into shape and lose my gut. I've resolved to go walking every morning from now until ...A. is up. Got to get her to day care. :)