What it’s like to be a Georgia Auburn Marriage: A retrospective. It ain’t pretty.
One of my favorites: 2005.
Tomorrow should be quite the clash of the titans.
Temporary Annullment Day: A Retrospective
November 14th, 2009My Brain Hurts
November 12th, 2009What has been keeping me up at night . . .
You swear to uphold something, or stand by someone, or support something. It turns out that the thing or person is not at all what it/he/she purported itself to be.
You are at the end of your rope, physically and mentally, but you promised, and you feel that to go back on your promise would make you no better than the other person/thing you are involved in. Maybe you are too proud to say that it is not working. Maybe you are afraid of the repercussions, on yourself and others, of dropping out. You stand by it, even though you don’t understand why it is the way it is, and why it isn’t what you thought it would be, and you don’t understand why things can’t be better, and you are not happy, and you are afraid that you never will be again.
Is there a point where your own sanity and mental health requires you to give up on others? Are you setting a bad example for others by sitting idly by and putting up with a miserable situation out of pride or loyalty or fear? Are you forcing other people to suffer through watching you be miserable?
I’m not exactly sure what it is that I am getting at here. This is not a post about any particular situation or person. It is more about me thinking about the question in a general manner since it has come up for a number of people I know lately, or at least the larger idea of it has come to me in talking with these people over the last couple of years. It seems more and more that I know people in their mid to late 30s who are struggling in their daily lives to get by, and to be happy, and to set a good example for their children. They want to raise happy children, but they are not happy themselves.
Happiness. Is that not the point? Seeking out happiness? If not, what is the point? Martyrdom? If you are not really happy, can you ever really make those around you happy? If you are not happy, can you ever really teach your children to be happy?
My brain hurts.
A Real and Present Parent
November 11th, 2009I often beat myself up as a parent. I don’t have the patience, or I raise my voice. I don’t deal with a crisis in the best manner, and I do it in front of my children. I feed them something easy instead of something healthy. I feed them fast food twice in one week. I don’t want to read the same damn Barbie On Her Toes book four times in a row with Tiller. I would rather write or read than watch Charlie Brown with them. I criticize, instead of positively reinforcing. . . and on and on and on, the voices in my head knock me down notch by notch, until I feel like the worst parent in the world.
All this is to remind myself that I am NOT the worst parent in the world.
There is this boy on one of my kid’s sports teams. He has no mother. He has a guardian, who is a family member. Sometimes that family member brings him to practice. Sometimes another family member brings him. Almost always, they drop him off. He is young for the team, most of whom are 6 and under, but closer to 5 and 6. This kid is five at the most, maybe even four. He has tons of energy. He runs around the field, when he is supposed to be in a particular position. (Granted, they all have a little trouble with the concept of positions.) But this kid doesn’t listen to direction. He is nearly impossible to keep in line. I hate to say it, but he is a little like a feral animal, as compared to the other kids. The coaches are obviously frustrated by his disruptions.
Kids at this age have to pee. You ask them if they need to pee before practice or a game and they say no, and then sure enough, by the second inning, they are out on the field grabbing themselves like Michael Jackson and dancing from foot to foot. When this happens, the kids’ parents usually notice and take their kid to the bathroom. This particular kid? Other people have to take him to the bathroom because his guardians are never there. After practice or a game, all the other kids who have parents that sit there during the whole practice, pack up their stuff, and head for the cars. This kid is always the last one there, left waiting with a coach or parent searching for his guardian, or his uncle or whoever brought him that day.
People feel sorry for him, because they know his situation, but they also get annoyed. It is depressing to see this kid and his situation. Every time, it breaks my heart and pisses me off. Some stupid girl or woman brought this child into the world, then deserted him. I cannot reconcile the fact that there are people who can leave their baby to fend for itself in this world. It absolutely baffles me how one could live with themselves.
Sure, he has a family who picked up the slack, but they haven’t picked it up enough. Kids should have a parent who will teach them respect for their elders. They should know that someone loves them enough to sit around for an hour and shout a word of encouragement when they do something good. A kid should not have to rely on the kindness of strangers just to get to the bathroom.
A kid should never sit on the bottom step of a bleacher, with an adult they barely know, and have to wonder whether they will be picked up and when.
I have been thinking about this kid a lot this week. It has reminded me that all my criticism, and my overreaction, my yelling, and my nagging about manners, my forgetting sometimes to just have fun with my kids doesn’t mean I am a bad parent. It means that I am a real parent. A real and present parent.
I wish they could all have real parents.
Because It Makes Me Feel Better
November 10th, 2009So, my sister married a Gator. I have not really forgiven her, but I have moved past the pain. Florida beat Georgia again. Did I say I moved past the pain? I lied.
That is why, when my nephew comes over, wearing a damn Florida blue outfit with Gator orange socks, (which, incidentally, is the same dork outfit my bil is wearing) and then his father leaves to go watch the Florida game at his house, I like to play this little game with my nephew.
Why? Because it makes me feel better.
A Love Affair
November 9th, 2009Just me and my dog.
See dog on couch. Take dog picture. Decide to try and get a shot of me and Dog. Lay down on couch with dog. Dog starts licking. I start laughing. Camera shakes.
Never really get a good shot of either of us.
I love him so much.
Burgeoning Pollack
November 8th, 2009Some days as a parent are so frustrating I could cry. I don’t cry. I usually just sigh, shake my head, and then have to laugh at the colossal mess. Like this one.
I walk into the kitchen, where the kids are at the kitchen table having a snack of yogurt. Blue yogurt. I walk to the sink to put some dishes in the washer. I look out the window and blink, thinking i am seeing spots. I take a step back and realize that I am seeing spots – blue spots – everywhere i look.
The window panes. The cabinets to the right of the sink. The cabinets to the left of the sink. I stare at it until it dawns on me.
Yogurt. Blue yogurt.
I look over at the table. What I want to know is, how in the HELL do you get yogurt splattered all over the cabinets that thoroughly? It looked like a Jackson Pollack!
Need another example? My nephew did this in about ten seconds flat:
And this is the kind of crap that parents clean up all day long, every day. While I clean this mess, the kids are shooed out and they head to another room to make a similar mess there. All. Day. Long.
Fireside Epiphanies
November 6th, 2009Ribs, Beer, and Smores are awesome together. Sonic Youth is perfect fire-gazing music. Firegaze, if you will. And, on a sad note, I have become that dude who says, “If you don’t eat your meat, you can’t have any pudding! How can you have any pudding, if you don’t eat your meat.” on Another Brick in the Wall.
FUCK.
Time Warp
November 5th, 2009Things are so different now than they were when I was a kid, but then i am always surprised that some things stay the same.
Rollie’s class went on a field trip to a farm. They did a hayride, and made corn husk dolls, and Rollie got off the bus wearing an Indian feather headband, and carrying a pumpkin. (Or Punk King, as he called them when he was little.) And, instant timewarp, it was like Alpharetta First United Methodist Kindergarten, 1978, all over again.
I am bummed I can’t find the picture of me in my indian headress and with paint on my face. I know I have it here somewhere. . . Mom?
I have to admit that I was surprised that they still do this. I would have thought that someone would have complained about how offensive it is for 6 year olds to dress up like Indians. Me? I remember that i just thought it was the most awesome thing ever. Hope Rollie felt it too.
I love a good time warp.
My Feet Have No Shame
November 4th, 2009Amazing that my ankle is feeling much better. I think i might wrap that bitch up and try a run by this coming monday!
Just have to show off how big it got.
The bad ankle. Bad. Very bad!
This one compares the good and bad ankle. Also, I am shameless, and just wanted to show my feet. You can see that they look like old lady feet, and that I never get pedis, so my paint job is growing out like an inch. There is an ant bite on my left big toe. I have a line from my socks on my calves, which basically means I’m bloated. I didn’t shave, either, for like a week. You can’t tell that from the photo. I just like to over-divulge.
Feet. Yeah, not my strong point.
Nano Nano
November 3rd, 2009Well, I’m trying to do NaNoWriMo again this year. I did it last year, too. While training for a half-marathon. So, you would think that this year would be easier, since I am benched (AGAIN) due to the Halloween Ankle Twisting episode of 2009. (Just thinking ahead. Let’s be honest. It will probably be an annual event.) No, it is not easier this year. We are still trying to finish up renovations to the basement: we still have doors to paint and hang, shades to purchase and hang, some lighting issues to resolve, and I have to put away all my highly valuable packrat stuff. Yes, I need that funeral home fan from the 1940s, my t-ball hat from 1978 (Go Birmingham PeeWees!), and every letter written by every member of my family for the last 120 years. I need them! Deep down in my soul!
But I am going to do it again anyway, because last year? I wrote FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS. They came right out of my head and went into the computer and now i have them. I haven’t quite gone back and shaped and coaxed them into something useful yet, but it is the most writing I have produced in my life. It was AMAZING.
So, yeah, i am already behind. I only have a thousand words down, and I should be up to about 5000 by end of day, but you know what? I have a thousand more words down than I would if I had not attempted at all. And that’s saying something.
Anyone else doing it? Not too late to jump on the bandwagon. I’m looking at you, JB. If not, you are doing Script Frenzy with me in April. I mean, how hard can writing a script be? If Judd Apatow can do it, I can do it. Right?
Oh, god.