I have to take a break

Some of you might remember Dave Chappelle, whose brilliant show sadly vanished into thin air. He said that he had been writing the show as though nobody was watching. And when he realized how many people were watching, he started to feel some pressure to make it a certain way, and he couldn't do it. So he disappeared.

Now, I want to make myself perfectly clear: I do not in ANY WAY equate myself with Dave Chappelle, because he is a thousand times more awesome than I could ever dream to be. And it's not like I have so many people reading this. But it's enough; there are enough people who are actually in my life who read this. So on one hand, this is a place where I like to blab the things that are too politically incorrect to bark out at the dinner table (because really, where does "sometimes I think I should have never had a baby" fit into polite cocktail conversation?). On the other hand, there are times when there are more serious things going on and I don't want anyone all up in my grill, putting me under a microscope and asking if I'm okay every ten minutes. I probably need therapy, but (A) I'm still gun-shy after that useless attempt last year, with the woman who basically winced and shrugged her way through my session, and (B) it would mean I'd have to fit the appointments into my schedule. Which... HAHAHAHHAHAHAA!!! Not going to happen. (C) I don't want anyone to know there's anything wrong, because then I'd have to talk about it. I'd rather just continue telling everyone "nothing, I'm just tired." I suppose in a way that's true. I'm tired of being fat and sad, and having those two things prop each other up.

Here is the gist: I'm not feeling so hot. Someone mentioned their family Christmas card picture for this year, what they were going to use, and it sent me into a mini-tailspin. Cards. It reminded me that I still have a stack of Christmas cards from last year sitting, unmailed, in the bread basket (don't ask-- there's a pair of gloves in there too) on the kitchen counter. The responsibilities that come with the holidays suck for me every year-- oh, how I wish I was one of those people who could enjoy it, but it is so much work-- but this year I think I might be dealing with something a little deeper underneath that. So forgive me if I'm gone for a while because I need to focus my efforts on getting out of bed in the morning. Sorry.

Two Years Ago Today...

Sascha was born, and the insanity began. I had a little moment this morning when the clock struck 9:09, her actual birth time, but by this point (11ish) I was all set up in my hospital room. Probably still sweating. Happy and tired, trying to forget the trauma of the spinal and trying to fight the pain of the fresh surgery. Totally bewildered, looking at this not-so-tiny new person who had just been trying to kick her way out of me a few hours earlier. Relieved that I was no longer pregnant, but wondering (correctly) if I had just jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

I will miss most of her birthday today as I have a science team regional meet after school until 6 pm (we'll celebrate this weekend), but when I do finally get home tonight, I will raise a glass and silently toast to myself for surviving the past two years. To mediocre parenting! *clink*

Flirting with middle age

So, I'm 37.

Just a few weeks ago, I was feeling really good about this. Now? Hmm.

First of all, last weekend I got my period, which means I am not pregnant. Still. What the hell. This is a particular bummer because we have decided to stop trying for about six months. I just can't stomach the idea of having a baby at the very beginning of the school year. People can argue that all they want, but ultimately it is I who will have to deal with the worst fallout, and I just can't. So we're going to start trying again when the earliest I could have the baby would be January 2010 (and quit again if we get past a July due date). At least the few months of suffering between maternity leave and summer would be relatively short-term. 2010, man. That sucks. And now, once again, I have no excuse to lose weight. Le Ugh.

Back to last weekend, which was the reunion. I had a great time, everyone was wonderful, the end. But no, it isn't. Talking to some of the other girls who were there, I'm finding out that many of the guys were actually skeevy and lecherous. Married men. Mercilessly hitting on these married women! I was stunned, because all of these men had been perfect gentlemen to me, many of them telling me how kind they remember me being (HA! I had them all fooled!).

Now, I realize this is a very Nora Ephron thing to say, but: 90% of me is relieved that I didn't have to deal with that, because eww. And I left there with a glowing opinion of everyone. But the other 10% is going, what's wrong with me? Am I that old and worn out? Too Suburban Mom? I know I have bad hair, but come on!

I feel ridiculous for even letting it bother 10% of me, but that, coupled with the fact that I cannot get pregnant, makes me wonder if middle age is upon me. I mean, it is middle age if I live to 74, which is a nice ripe old age. Was Sascha my last good egg? If so, can we just get this menopause ball rolling already so I don't have to have my period anymore? I have plenty of moustache cream...

Soapbox

I heart you, Keith Olbermann.

My day "off"

Yesterday we had no school, and I told Nick that the whole day was his. I have to blow my own horn here. I accomplished the following:

*Made ~2 gallons of chicken soup, plus four quarts of chicken stock to freeze
*Made focaccia
*Took Sascha to the park
*Did yardwork while she napped
*Took her to the grocery store when she woke up
*Made two loaves of banana bread
*Made brownies for a bake sale

A friend of mine was just talking about her neighbor, a woman who is thin and energetic, manages to do a zillion things in a day, and still plays with her kids. She also has a Masters in geophysics from MIT. My other friends concluded that she must be on speed. They were serious. So was I, when I briefly (briefly!) considered trying to score some for myself. Being of sound mind, I am not going to do this; I'd have no idea how to go about it anyway. But still. How great would that be? I'd be thin and have a clean house. Hell, I'll settle for a dirty house.

File under "Not Cool, Sascha": She is falling asleep later and later. She goes to bed without a fight, but 15 minutes later she is fussing and crying and calling for us, and keeps it up for at least an hour. I haven't minded this before, because 'she won't always be this little' and all, but I think I am hitting my limit, because this now lasts until my own bedtime. Then this morning, she was awake 20 minutes before my alarm went off. So I get zero adult time. It's not like I'm doing fun adult things; last night I was trying to plan a biology lesson. Nick was ironing. This has got to stop. I wonder if shorter naps would do the trick?

I am loving the political-simpatico stories in the comments from my last post. Loving them the way I love horror movies.

Reunion

The big high school reunion was last weekend. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around it. It was soooo lovely. I wasn't hugged that much at my own wedding, and it's no wonder I have a nasty cold now from all the kissing. Big juicy blubbery huggy lovefest. I'm so glad it was several days long. I cried when I left (and I left the party without saying goodbye to anyone, save for a handful) but I came home very satisfied... and exhausted. I only slept two hours on Saturday night, and I spent Sunday either flying or in airports from before sunrise until sunset. Bugghh. I feel horrible today, and am taking full advantage of the maturity of my students. "Hey guys, wanna do nothing today? Yeah? You got it." Done. *dusts hands* Of course, then I had three days' worth of sub damage to undo, but it was worth it.

I was worried that Sascha would give me the cold shoulder when I got home last night, but she said "MAMA!!" and tucked her little arms right into me the second I arrived. (A sidenote: she has just discovered my boobs-- have I mentioned this before? She checks 'em out all the time, saying "Mama's boobs" and she loves to put her hands down my shirt. Not unlike Nick. Woulda been nice if she was this fascinated by them when she was first born, but, eh.) She stuck to me all night. It was delicious.

Unrelated: after the election I got a series of e-mails from an old friend, lamenting our new president. It made me sick and sad; so much that my heart is pounding, just writing about it now. It honestly broke my heart to hear my old dear friend (friends! A second one joined her, to my utter shock) speak passionately about... well, things that I so strongly disagree with. Pro-business, anti-human beings (and anti-reality, if I may be blunt-- for example, private school for every kid is not realistic). It still hurts my heart, badly, and I am trying to come to terms with it. I had another friend from high school who became very conservative (despite having a few abortions) and we just couldn't get past our differences. She sends Christmas cards with pictures of her kids campaigning for Republicans and I just... I just can't do it. I can't get past it. It's so hard for me to just agree to disagree about some things. I can't do more than perfunctory Christmas cards, even though she is very sweet and I love her for the history we share. It's kind of fortunate that we live in different states, as do the two most recent friends, because there is no immediate pressure to get together in person and it's much easier to politely keep them at arm's length. It just makes me really sad. I just feel like the facts, especially from the past 8 years, are so big and so obvious that they are visible from space and people still don't see them. Like, "get the government out of our lives" so that we have financial anarchy, but when it comes to women's vaginas or gay relationships, things that don't affect anyone else, then it's fine? Defend the super rich (even though our chances of becoming super-rich are slim to none), but let's not have universal healthcare (even though our chances of needing it are 100%)? I don't want to get started on this because it's just going to make me angry and sad again, and I've felt that enough over this. I'm just bringing it up because it happened. And maybe some of you who are reading have lost friends over politics and you'd like to share your stories too.

I'm going to choose to fill my brain-space with glowing reunion memories. And my kid tucking her hands into my bra.

Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead!

I'm in Texas now; this weekend is the HS reunion. I miss Nick and Sascha something fierce. I am thinking about both of them constantly. That being said... I had a leisurely run this morning, then I actually shaved my legs, and then I watched The View while putting on my makeup (which I promptly cried off-- more on that later). Later I am going to watch Oprah, then go for a pedicure, then dinner with margaritas. And it is sunny and WARM here. Lottery winners don't have it this good, people. At least they don't appreciate it as much as I am.

So, I have to share my election-day experience. Most of it was spent on airplanes or in airports. During my layover in Detroit, I walked for an hour-- partly for circulation and to burn off a heavy dinner, partly to avoid looking at the TV screens everyone was glued to. I landed in Austin at 10:30 and got a text from my best friend: "Looks like Ohio got it right this time!" I was excited but had no idea at this point that it was actually over. Pilot said nothing. People around baggage claim, nothing. No TVs on at the airport that late. It was quiet and surreal; I was kind of expecting to see happy riots, at least on TV.

When I went to pick up my car in the garage, the girls in the booth had the radio on and I could hear McCain's voice echoing loudly through the garage. I heard just a few words and figured out that it was his concession speech. I gasped and went "ohmagah-- is that--?" And the girls said "yeah, didn't you hear? Obama won!" I dropped my bag and gasped. The girls (who were happy-- this was Austin, after all) said "you should have seen some of the MEAN people coming through tonight who were not happy about this..." and I said "SEE? MEAN!!" They got it.

I drove off, blasted NPR coverage of his speech and screamed like a lunatic the whole hour to San Antonio. Screamed. PRESIDENT OBAMA!!! PRE! SI! DENT! OBAMA!! THAT'S WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!!! YES WE FUCKING CAN!!! Top of my lungs. The whole way. Punching the air. Got a few texts from my friend about how she was blubbering and sobbing. Arrived at 11:30 pm to loud squeals and CNN at full volume on her TV.

I was exhausted, but only slept five hours. I woke up with two words in my head:

President. Obama.

It's like Christmas morning. I wasn't going back to sleep; there were lots of presents to open on Salon.com and Huffington Post.

I absolutely feel like one of the flying monkeys when they say "you... you killed her." (Okay, technically it was the guard who said it.) I have the same sense of disbelief, and mostly, RELIEF. I was too excited to cry last night, but I got my chance this morning when I saw Sherri Shepherd on The View. Holy crap, you have to see it (she's right around the 4 minute mark-- I dare you to watch without tearing up). It's a beautiful day. My only concern, and I hate to be a sore winner, was that he didn't win by a greater margin in the popular vote. That means there are still that many people who aren't doing their homework. Almost half. That's too many.

And PS: What the Christ is this, California? What the hell is wrong with you people? Why can't you just leave well enough alone? It's been legal in my state for 4.5 years, and society has hardly crumbled there. Even the idiot teenagers in my classroom can tell you that. SHAME on you.