Tag Archives: birthday

I should be talking to me more.

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I have a whole bunch of broken Wellie boots and broken luggage; I want put them up on the border wall between me and the road with plants inside. (Yes I know I will need to bolt them down if I don’t want them to wander.) Things I want to paint on them:

  • Not all who wander are lost; some are seeds floating on the wind searching for the right spot to sprout.
  • These boots were made for walking but then they got tired and put down roots.
  • With age, comes wisdom. With travel, comes understanding. With good compost, comes happy plants.
  • I would walk far more than 500 miles to get to Inverness, this lovely place where I get to build my nest.
  • I have seen 1,000 cities and this I must confess: the only one I want to call my home is Inverness.
  • When you have more than you need you should build a longer table, not a taller fence. Feel free to take clippings from any plants and if you see a fruit tree/bush heavy with fruit, come knock on the door. I’ll probably give you a bag.

I also want to make signs for all the plants in my garden explaining what they give and add to the soil and why I picked them for this spot. I would really like for people to be able to walk around my garden and get a mini-course on permaculture. By “people” I mean me because I am totally going to forget this shit if I don’t write it down and reread it a bunch of times. This is not a project that is going to get done this year, but eventually. In the meantime I am taking way better notes than I did in California.

It is really nice feeling like the time I spent in California in my garden was an absolutely fantastic beginner course in gardening. I had the time/money/sunshine/city water to make quite an oasis. Gardening here is very different in dramatic ways. I mean… for many months of the year I shouldn’t dig in the ground because the wee beasties are hibernating. I would take December off from gardening (and sometimes January) but really I was outside in the garden 10-11 months a year. There were different seasonal jobs; I didn’t have the same routine week to week. Here I really shouldn’t disturb the earth any more than absolutely necessary from November through May. Well, I’ll be honest and say there is some amount of tidying up I can do in November and December but it’s more clearing off the slippery leaves off the driveway and doing a compost turn. I also begin starting seeds in February.

Ok so maybe it is about the same.

Only it really isn’t! This is gardening on hard mode. I can start seeds in my bedroom and bathroom, which have to be kept shut from the rest of the house the whole time. I don’t have a single other place that could be warm/away from the cats. It’s pretty funny. If I got a thermometer in the polytunnel I could chance leaving some of the seedlings out there for the weeks of Fool’s Spring just to give them a little excitement with extra air movement but mostly I wouldn’t bother because it is too much work.

Mostly here in February and March I can read and research and plan. Planning is a Big McFlippin deal here. In California I could throw tomatoes on the ground and a plant would start growing in any month of the year as long as I watered it. Sometimes there would be a cold snap that would keep a specific plant runty, but I’d get a big tomato haul. Here I have barely been able to get tomatoes to ripen at all because I haven’t figured out how to keep them warm enough. This year I’m going to grow them in the polytunnel and see if that works better.

I can’t help but feel that I am keeping all these records because I have this horrible Cassandra-like feeling that my children are going to need to be able to look through my trials and failures so they can make sure they eat someday. Yes, reading blogs and books are an ideal way to start an education in the general sense but knowing your unique microclimate isn’t available unless you learn from someone who has stood in your garden.

I am sure my weird prepper shit is just a continuation of my same old, same old and yet this feeling is different in a way that is hard to define. I love my children, don’t get me wrong, but at this point I don’t see any sign that any of them are going to be a shooting star. They are bright people who will arrive at adulthood with a better than average emotional education and a lot of ability to learn new things and do jobs that interest them. I have a lot of worry around the ways they want to work earning them much money and in this late-stage-Capitalist-hellscape I have deep fear around them suffering in the future because I entirely failed to instill that motivator.

Somewhere along the way I discovered that my goal was to give them time. Time to figure out what brings them joy. Time to explore things and fail and try again. Time to become their own best friend. Time to do what they want during the day instead of what can earn them money. I recognise deeply that Noah pays for this time. He earns and we invest and maybe someday his children can have an easier burden. In many ways he has sacrificed his life on the altar of me and our children. He has taken the provider role very seriously and combined with all the advantages he started with like picking the right hobby at seven and a family that could pay for a very nice school.

Noah has given me time. Time to think about who I want to be. Time to figure out what I need to learn in order to become that person. I feel awed at the magnitude of gift he has given me in this life. I think often about how my entire life as it is now mostly exists because of Noah. I mean, I have friends I made on my own but I live where I live in the house I live in with the children I wanted so very much because of Noah.

The children who make me feel crazy and hostile and overwhelmed and like I just want to hide in the bathroom for a few years. I would not walk away from this life for all the money in the world. There is literally nothing I would rather be doing, even though I complain like it is my job.

Today I walked around my garden and thought about all the ways I am going to shift things around towards being a food forest and a playground. I started out with beds in the front lawn but most of it doesn’t really get enough sun anyay so I am going to move some plants, change around where the logs are and put playground stuff running through the middle. It’ll work. You’ll see. I measured with conservative edge allowances.

By playground equipment I mean a climbing structure and a slide and a separate swing. Both the swing and the climbing structure will be very amenable to hosting climbing plants for the guilds. It’s going to be fantastic. It’s kind of funny how much of this thought process is shaping up around my birthday party. My friends are going to be old as fuck. I am going to need to have a garden full of places to sit and admire the lovely plants. It will be good to have pretty flowers right at face height because a lot of them aren’t going to see that well anymore.

And some will climb up to hang on the climbing structure because of course they will. I will have swings that my adult friends can use. And they will get to walk through a forest of food to get there.

Trees take time. Building soil takes time. I only have 18 years to go. That means it is bloody important I get as much of the bones in place as possible this year. It takes time to fill in a forest. Buddy, I am already training branches.

How am I going to lay out walking paths so people don’t step on my damn plants? How am I going to create convenient congregation places around the garden where it would be lovely to linger and have a chat? Where will people be able to pick a snack in September? Oh bloody hell. It’s a lot to plan!

After a search it looks like apples are going to be my best and most obvious choice for the whole top side of the garden as it is literally lined in apple trees. Raspberries will hold down the bottom side. There will definitely be runner beans all over the place. Maybe I will have magically figured out tomato ripening. Courgettes, potatoes, and onions are not really snacking foods but I can cook with them. Ok. This will be good.

Hm. Unfortunately my birthday falls on a Tuesday the year I turn 60. Well I suppose it will be a week long house party. Oh wow, that’s an interesting thought. I wonder who I will still know.

Longevity in relationships is extremely important to me. I put up with some serious bullshit from my oldest friends. Because if somehow they have decided to have some appalling belief it is now my job to somehow embody a different point of view without sounding like a preachy asshole. It’s a tightrope some moments. I believe that most relationships involve some degree of masking and setting special boundaries for people in ways that create a lot of extra work for yourself. I don’t know how to “just be one thing” all of the time. I can’t. I know that large parts of me are not particularly acceptable in a great many settings. It was true in California and it is far more true here. I have to be mindful of what I say and where.

It is utterly exhausting. Every conversation goes through this at-speed filter of “acceptable topics” and I am glad I have expanded my range of special interests so that I can usually find a couple if I try a few different mannerisms and approaches. I assume it is kind of trippy for the people I go through four or five approaches with. If I feel waved off after the fifth I start treating them like furniture and I will probably never make eye contact again.

I need much more stringent filters here. It’s not that everyone is closed minded it is that the process for sussing people out takes a lot longer and I’m sure I’ve “gone too fast” a couple of times. Mostly I haven’t horrified anyone but I take very calculated risks with self exposure.

I acknowledge to myself that in my mind I need a triad of close friends that I talk to at least somewhat consistently and we have very few filters with one another. There is no such thing as a relationship without filters. Not for me, anyway. It has been three women for most of my life, not always the same three women. Now there is a man, well a demi-boy as he now understands himself and I can understand what he means when he says that. I can feel myself consciously and deliberately allowing myself to be filled in my “imaginary bucket” as I talk to the kids about emotional energy. I feel like a vampire sometimes. I feel ashamed sometimes. But I don’t stop and I know that none of them would like me to stop because the way we take and give to each other is mutually satisfying and not draining.

Sometimes I tell my children that when there are times that they don’t love themselves then they are welcome to borrow some of my regard for them because it is endless. That is really striking because it feels like such a lie. There are ways that I judge and think harsh thoughts and feel impatient in ways that are probably ableist and deeply unfair of me. I am by no means doing my job perfectly.

I’m not getting into that self-flagelation tonight. It’s too late to go down that road.

I just need to think about the fact that sometimes when I can’t love myself I allow myself to be carried forward by the force of the regard of other people. I don’t particularly go for “likes” but I have a deep and intense respect for the people I allow to judge me. For the vast majority of human beings on this planet, I don’t give a flying fuck how you judge me because you are not actually seeing what happens. You are not a reliable narrator. If you actually know me then you can judge me based on the interactions we have had, but not that many people have spent much time with me. There are just a few.

The people I have kept close for a decade and a half, or a quarter of a century are people who have enormous wells of experience with me and my family and they have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. They get to judge me and when I fuck up they call me to the carpet.

It’s kind of funny how these power dynamics and social dynamics work because it’s not as if this judgment comes without strife. I have simply decided that for whatever reason I am willing to accept that strife as a sign of love in that relationship. They would not bother to say this to me if they did not have deep love for me.

Except when they tell me that I am Borderline during fights.

If I am at all honest I am partially leaning on my triad because it allows me to fill my bucket enough for me to go deal with all of the other places where I am in some sort of position to feel like I need to share the resources I have in ways that benefit folks. A lot of the in-person stuff is hard because my life is not shaped like most folks. My time comes in different shapes and blocks than average in many ways and it makes it hard to get the requisite hours to become a friend at this age.

I do have a few young friends in town but with all of them the level of filters is still pretty high. I have talked about myself more with them than other people around here but I’m not random California neighbour casual yet. Oh my god it’s so different. I find myself struggling to be as reserved as is appropriate here.

Dude, just go to bed.

Movement is good for you; I hear.

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I posted most of this on the book of faces. But I should start using this space more.

Neurotic tracking is neurotic.

I wasn’t great about tracking my bike miles for the first few months of 2021 so I am pretty sure my year total is lower than it actually was. Then in 2022 we went to Texas and did way more walking than usual… but I didn’t bring my watch charging cable so I didn’t track any of it and then the watch strap completely broke and took a bit to replace in late July/early August. So numbers are fudged a bit.

That said: in 2021 by Sep 1st I had taken 1,653,242 steps and ridden 883 miles. (By the end of the year 2,300,012 steps and 1,165 bike miles.) In 2022 by Sep 1st I have taken 1,438,755 steps and ridden 908 miles.

If I don’t want to be behind last year’s final totals I’d better get my butt moving. Last year I was under my goals for myself in terms of movement by a fair bit. I don’t shoot for 10,000 steps a day. Personally I try for 7,000 and I have not been hitting it. In a year that adds up to 2,555,000 steps. I missed it by 254,988 last year. That’s over a month of missing steps. Ugh.

This year I am so far waaaaay lower. This is not good. I am already 262,245 down this year. That’s super sucky not good. Ugh. My bike odometer says I have ridden 920 since I got it the week of Christmas, so there wasn’t a lot at the end of December on this bike due to all of the ice on the roads.

I feel like I am very much not close to where I want to be in terms of being able to run (I have not regained fast-twitch muscle activity *at all* since the youngest was born. Ugh.) I know I need to sit down with the training book Blacksheep gave me and make a plan.

I think that the work I get done in the garden this September is going to mean that next year I will not have any big structural jobs and I may even have time to go work in the volunteer gardens in town. I haven’t managed much this year because I’ve been drowning in house/garden work.

My birthday is coming up so of course I am going deep into that funk of “What the hell am I actually doing with my life?” Well this year my hide-from-life birthday retreat will involve a 90 mile round-trip bike ride before camping in the rain. No weekend long binge of The Witcher this year.

In order to catch up on steps I need 9,150 each day between now and the end of the year. *sigh* I don’t have any specific goals about bike miles between now and the end of the year… but I feel better when I ride more and my kids have never regained their full fitness after covid. So. Ugh. Fudge.

I watch this shit like a hawk because if I get too sedentary then I lose strength and then I injure myself then I am stuck in a chair for months and the recovery period is slow and nightmarish. I haven’t had a big injury… in a long time. I can’t remember the last one. I am dancing on the edge of overwork issues with my arms and back right now with all the gardening/painting. Oofta.

Ok. Now that I have reflected it’s time to get off my butt. Daylight is no longer endless and apparently I have a lot of miles to cover. It doesn’t help my sense of impending doom that my birthday is coming. Stupid birthday. I hate you. It’s not that I mind getting older. It’s just that it is usually such a very terrible day. I feel bad that I can’t be present with my kids on my birthdays. But I can’t. That’s just the reality. No sense in denying a thing that is just true. Thanks, mom, for this gift that just keeps on giving. I mean… I know it isn’t her fault at this point. She hasn’t ruined a birthday in over 20 years. But there is a broken piece there. I have tried to fix it and failed. I am putting all of my try into other places; I have none left for something as stupid as my birthday.

Alright. Time to work.

Almost here

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My birthday is coming up. Going to Texas and England this year means I am not running away by myself. (Important note: the woman we went back to Texas to see has now passed away. I have no regrets over prioritising that goodbye trip over other more fun activities for this year.) Noah wants to be thoughtful and asked me what I want. I want to not want anything so I can’t feel let down. I want to have patience for the 973,383 times I will have to remind my children to do basic chores (like brushing teeth). I want to not miss my mother. I want to go back and rewrite my back story so that my impending birthday doesn’t feel like a hand grenade about to land on my head. A buddy suggested that I go camp somewhere for cheap, but I have been working too hard. I couldn’t right now. My hands are trashed.

I have an old friend staying with me. It is complicated in the way that integrating a new person with deep grief, and addiction issues, and learned helplessness will be. To be fair, every time I feel like I am going to freak out about an issue I have to address he is responsive and polite and most of my requests have been acknowledged and respected. But negotiating and setting boundaries is hard. It’s One More Thing on my emotional chore list and I’m tired.

It has been a fucktastically busy year. Busy on so many levels and my exhaustion is, once again, bone deep and completely saturating my soul. I feel numb and on fire and empty and aching. I deeply miss the comfort of tracking things that happen in my blog because I benefit from the space to process but mostly I do not feel I can anymore. I have reached a certain age where I now have to be realistic about the fact that I am not really going to make more very close friendships. Sure I can find new activity partners, but it isn’t the same thing. The people I have met in the last few years I am deeply conscious of this careful distance I keep. They are not allowed to know me. And I cannot talk about my deep relationships anymore because when I do I ruin them and it is absolutely all my fault.

So I do small bits of processing with people but very little in my historical record. I do almost none publicly. I mostly stuff my feelings and feel disconnected. I do not expect or hope for any kind of improvement.

I worry that the adhd medication was effective and useful for a time and it has gotten to the point where it is causing as many problems as it helps and I am starting the process of weaning off (with medical supervision do not fucking criticise me).

I watch the incoming terrifying blend of natural, political, social, and financial disasters hitting the UK with a sense of grim apprehension. I have been waiting all my life for a moment like this. I feel horrible about the fact that a lot of people are going to suffer terribly, some are going to die, but it won’t be my family. I continue my grim plod towards being able to provide a variety of supplemental food because I think famine is coming. I am installing solar panels with a battery system. I am installing rain butts, many and as large as I can manage. A chicken coop is finally being built. Hell, I’m even building a firewood pile because I worry that there will be a cold snap before the solar panels are installed. By the end of fall I will finally have my polytunnel set up for next year’s food growth.

I am working as hard and as fast as I can.

Noah’s job has managed to go most of the way towards fixing the issues that were happening with his salary. This is good. It would be a terrible time to go do a job hunt. I think we only lost a year’s worth of progress towards retirement. I am deeply aware that the fact that he is so insulated from the current global difficulties with regards to fair pay that he is still going to be able to retire before 60 means that I will never really understand the rest of my generation. Marrying him was hitting the lottery. I did not expect this. There is no fair. There is no deserve.

Even in company I feel lonely. I know I am not meeting anyone else’s emotional needs and they are not meeting mine. I do not know what could be done to change this. What I do know is that I am not suicidal and I am financially and physically prepared for more hardship than 90% of the planet. Maybe my expectation that things are going to fucking suck is almost a good thing. I am going to persevere. I will endure. I don’t need to be happy. I need to get the fucking work done.

And right now the next task on my list is to go make Middle Child a birthday cake. They are turning 12. Puberty is arriving and it’s going to be a wild fucking ride.

Another turn

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Today I am 39. I feel like I should mark this for myself somehow. I used to care so much about seeing who I am reflected in words. It seems less and less wise as the years go by. I destroy relationships with my words. I hurt people when I share my thoughts. I hope and I dream for understanding when I pour my heart out.

It doesn’t work that well though.

I feel like this might be the most inward facing period of my life. When I was a child I had times when I was more isolated and more alone but it’s not the same thing. I am not out frantically trying to communicate. I am not trying desperately for understanding. I no longer have hope that I will find it and I am out of energy to try.

It’s kind of funny that I feel sad and withdrawn and depressed but about as far from suicide as I have ever been. I have made commitments and it doesn’t matter how I feel it matters how I act. I will show up for them.

I will smile and act pleased when all I want to do is curl up in a ball in a closet and cry. Because my problems are mine. Because it feels like the inability to feel happy is my fault and I should not inflict it on anyone else. It is no one else’s fault that I feel so empty. But I will do the dishes and sweep the floor and listen to the stories that other people tell and I will try as hard as I can to not think about how I feel.

Because it doesn’t matter.

It’s funny that being away from the large community of people in California both feels alienating and like a relief. I put so much effort into so many people. I’m exhausted and drained. Here I do not do that. It’s not that I am utterly friendless here, I’m not. But I’m not pouring out buckets of energy begging people to love me anymore.

That feels better and worse. In some ways that begging feels so integral to my personhood. Cheezeits this house and yard are so much more work than I had there that I couldn’t put so much energy into a social life if I wanted to. I feel worn to the bone. I feel like this move half killed me. So much has gone wrong this year. And I feel like I am a terrible liar because I didn’t take a year of rest. I don’t know how that could have happened. Not with everything that has happened that has been entirely outside my control. The only thing I could have done to seriously lower my work load would have been not painting the dining room. That was the expendable thing. Even my puttering in the garden was never a big drain, not really.

I had intended to spend a lot of this year working on fitness. I am so depressed and overwhelmed and out of cope that I have not done so, which may be part of why I feel so bad. I’m not sure what to do about it though.

I was talking to T last night and we were discussing the climate crisis and political crisis stuff going on around the world. He said that he kind of pities me because he has it much easier than me. He’s 50 and he expected to die long ago and when he goes it will make a few people a little bit sad but it won’t really alter anyone’s life much. I have kids. I have to work like a dog to extend my life and keep giving to them long, long past when he is allowed to just quit. I can’t quit, not ever. I have to rage against the dying of the light and do everything in my power to help these little people be safe and ok in the future.

I am absolutely convinced that I wouldn’t still be trying so hard without them. I have mixed feelings about that. And our sweet baby extended the childhood period by a decade. I will spend thirty solid years with children I need to house and feed and take care of. I’ve already been doing this for over 12 years. It’s a lot. I’m not that far into the second decade and I have a third way off in the distance. It is daunting to think about sometimes. Will I be a withered husk with no genuine emotions left at all?

I would say it’s just a bad day. But it’s been a bad week in a rough month in a worse year.

But I love the trees I see out my window. I am grateful I will soon have room for more fruit trees. I have every intention of donating whatever I can’t can/use. I like seeing the hills and the firth off in the distance. I see plants and some sort of flowers almost around the calendar here. It’s becoming autumn and the trees are slowly beginning to change. It’s nice.

For a couple of months now I have wanted to decorate for Christmas. I don’t know if it is that I want to borrow Christmas cheer or if I want the year to just hurry up and fucking end already or if I want to feel like I am getting ahead on my to do list so maybe I can rest more. To be fair, I have rested a lot more over the last week and some. I caught a cold. It’s not fucking corona but I have to take the test anyway because otherwise EC can’t be at school. One of my buddies as a nurse and when I described my constant fall/winter funk she said it sounded like chronic bronchitis. Meh. It doesn’t really matter. I won’t do anything about it.

I am so tired. I sleep. Not worse than in the past and maybe even better. Doesn’t matter. I miss massage and chiropractic care. I like not spending very much money on life though. I feel like I’m doing a lot of waiting for time to pass. Waiting to see if I have hope again. Waiting to see if I will ever feel better.

Right now I doubt it.

Shameless begging for love and affection.

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I don’t care that you normally go to Burning Man. It’s too big and commercial these days anyway. You want to stay here in the bay. Or better yet, you want to fly from across the country. This Labor Day… imagine a festive get away in the bay area. I want to have a huge birthday party and god damnit people you had better come. I’m only turning 30 once. I’m reserving Labor Day weekend. 😛

inconvenient memory

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I forget things really easily. It’s actually one of the biggest reasons I use livejournal the way I do to babble constantly. Like today I was feeling bad because I couldn’t remember what I did for Noah’s birthday so of course I assumed that I didn’t do anything. (This came up because my birthday is tomorrow and he has zero plans.) So I was thinking it was reasonable that he had no plans for me. So then we had the brilliant idea to check livejournal because of course I would have made a record of what I did! Oh wait. I took him out for the weekend to Half Moon Bay and took him to the Peter Beagle show he really wanted to see. I don’t suck!

But maybe he does. 😛

In today’s edition of “My Cute Kid”

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So Shanna’s birthday is on Monday. We are having the aunts and uncles over for dinner on Sunday. I asked her if she wanted a cake for her birthday and she was completely adamant that she wanted cupcakes. Fair enough. Then we get down to that eternal battle… vanilla or chocolate. I tried to talk her into vanilla by explaining that vanilla is my favorite. She categorically refused to consider not having chocolate. She explained to me that it is Daddy’s favorite. Right. I can see how the wind blows around here.

I got started with the process while she was still napping. Basically what I did was premeasure everything into small bowls so that she could do all the combining herself. She was really excited about doing that and was looking forward to it all day. When she woke up she came out and we got started in earnest. She did a fabulous job. I was quite impressed. She didn’t grab at anything (one of our more frequent counter issues) and she was extremely careful when she poured. In fact she did substantially better than me because I got flour everywhere. When that happened she told me in a very stern tone of voice, “Mommy! You need to be careful!” I was torn between glaring at her and giggling so I gave her a very tiny dirty look while I smiled. “Yes honey, I need to be more careful. You are right.”

When I finished putting the batter in the cupcake shells she acted like she died and went to heaven. She got to lick the beater and the bowl. I think this is her favorite part. 🙂 Now the cupcakes are in the oven and a friend is making me vanilla cupcakes this weekend because I whined on facebook. Hilarious and awesome. Yay!

Tomorrow I get to put the finishing touches on Shanna’s play kitchen. There is no doubt in my mind that she is ready for it. I think that her helping in the kitchen is going to expand tremendously at this point because she is far more mature about it than I thought.

ETA: I totally forgot to say the super cute part! I often absentmindedly sing, “There Are No Cats In America” from An American Tail. Shanna is now wandering around singing “There are no cats in Mary with cheese”. I can’t stop giggling. 🙂

30th birthday musing

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In this filter there are currently: Mo, Alex, and Sarah(yes!) (all of whom I functionally think of as single), Mark/Laura, and Brittney/Joe (two married couples who at this point do not have children), and Ali/Mark and Deborah/Anthony (both couples have two kids and I think they don’t plan on more).

So this filter is relatively small. I’m giving you guys this run down so you have some idea of who I am talking to about this topic. 🙂 It is also worth pointing out that even though I like all the people in this group and I would want to spend a fair bit of time with you, I need my ‘family time’ and I need a lot of it. So we would not be locked at the hip by any measure.

I would like to go on a Disney Cruise and to Walt Disney World for my 30th birthday. That’s a bit out, not till September 2011 but pre-planning is required for a couple of reasons. We just bought into the Disney Vacation Club because given my vacation habits it’ll be paid for in like five years. 🙂 If I have some idea of who might be interested it changes a bunch of my potential strategies and it gives people a chance to start saving money.

Here are some of my nitty gritty details that I’m pondering:

I can rent a 2 bedroom cottage (174 pts) or a 3 bedroom cottage (281 pts) at WDW for six days. A 2 bedroom can sleep up to 8 people and a 3 bedroom can sleep up to 12. (Children under 3 are ‘free’.)

A 3 night cruise is possible (90 pts for us 67 for someone else) or a 4 night cruise (98/77) or a 7 night cruise (157/127). [Uhhh… I’ll have a maximum of 695 points to work with.]

If 8 or fewer people are interested and sharing rooms isn’t a problem technically speaking Noah and I could pay for two state rooms and the cottage with our points. It would wipe us out for while but it would be the most wonderful birthday trip I can imagine. In exchange for that I would request that folks contribute some reasonable amount that would at least cover the rest of the trip for us (airfare, food, park tickets, some souvenirs) because dude…I’m saving you many many thousands of dollars.

Alternatively some different combination of people could say, “I will join you at WDW but not the cruise” or vice versa. Or some people could say, “I would feel more comfortable paying for myself but I can only afford a 3 day cruise and 4 days at the park.” There are many different options available. It is also possible (and pretty common) for people to stay at multiple resorts during their stay in WDW. If my family goes before anyone else we can stay in a small studio and move to a larger accommodation when others want to join up and save a bunch of points. WDW has a whole process set up for moving your stuff. It’s pretty cool. 🙂

I am partially starting this negotiation so early because I am excited about the possibility and partially because I have to make my reservations about a year in advance and this way people have plenty of dithering time before I have to commit officially.

So…. yeah! I’m going to have decades of joy out of speculating about trips. I apologize in advance to the people who talk to me on IM and who may already be sick of this. 😀

Take out party

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I decided today that I want to have a little bit of excitement for my birthday. So, is anyone available to come over tonight for a little party? I think it will be pretty small given as it is a Thursday and extremely last minute. 🙂 I think that all food stuffs will be a variety of take out because that sounds kind of fun to me.

So uhm… can anyone come? Feel free to call/text me if you can come or leave a message here. I would love it if people aimed to arrive sometime around six but I understand if you will be a bit later than that due to work stuff.

{milestones} Shanna at one

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So I never posted acknowledging the fact that seven days ago Shanna turned one year old. I continue to be impressed and delighted with her. The day after her first birthday she decided, “Enough of this crawling business–that’s for babies and now I’m a toddler.” It’s been remarkable.

She is now saying something that sounds a lot like “up” when she wants to be picked up. When she eats food that she thinks is especially tasty she goes “Mmmmmm!!!” She babbles pretty much non-stop when we are home alone but she is somewhat more shy when around people she doesn’t know well. She now understands and correctly follows the command, “Gentle” when touching people or animals; it’s quite sweet.

She is nursing substantially less though her last round of teething screwed up her sleeping through the night and she is back to at least one nursing session in the middle of the night. We are unlikely to stop nursing any time in the foreseeable future as the continued benefits of nursing far outweigh the fairly minor inconveniences of nursing (for us–I am not judging other people who choose to wean I swear).

She is only up to five teeth and I have no idea when she will be getting more. Lack of teeth doesn’t seem to slow her down much in eating just about everything she wants to eat. She has favorite foods, of course, namely: bananas, dried cherries, ice cream (duh), mini-meringues, sharper cheeses, and all things bread.

She is playing with her toys more and more. She cuddles her dolly. She adores the dump truck that sings a song when you push a button. I kind of want to throw it out the window, but she’s having a blast so instead I just pray for the batteries to die. 🙂 She loves her xylophone and ball smacker thing.

She noticeably recognizes Sarah the best and she treats her as a perfectly adequate mommy-substitute in crowd situations. This pleases me enormously for many reasons. I love that her monkey sphere is expanding because it means that she is developing actual attachment to someone other than me and that shows me hope that she will stop being as dependent on me soonish. 🙂 At this point I’m not sure she has “stranger anxiety” but she no longer eagerly goes to all people she meets as a matter of course. She has a strong preference for people who are familiar and it takes her a bit to warm up to new people.

She now shows a decided preference for going in the potty and will hold her bladder/bowels for a bit trying to get a chance. Unfortunately she isn’t signing consistently yet so we still have a lot of misses because I don’t offer enough. I should start working on this because she shows all the signs I can see of wanting to be done with diapers. It’s really cool.

She shrunk back into 12 month clothing. This is cute and kind of neat only… I sent pretty much all we had to Texas for the arrival of Noah’s brother’s child because I thought we were done with it. Oops. Luckily I have friends with kidlets and we received another batch and some of hand-me-downs so she is certainly not running around nekkid (well, at least not more than she would be any way).

She starts vaccinations next week. Of course I am nervous about this, but I’m going to hope that the universe sees fit to keep her out of the group of kids who has side effects. Before the hysterical pro vaccination people start harping on me about mercury and autism (neither of which hit my radar in terms of worry) I will point out that the package inserts for vaccinations mention Guillain-Barre syndrome, Encephalitis, Encephalopathy, SSPE, and death. There are other serious reactions to vaccinations like Lupus, MS, arthritis, blood disorders, seizures, diabetes, pneumonia, life threatening rash, paralysis, and a few others mentioned on the package inserts. None of these things are hysterical reactions from ill advised people reading faulty medical information. Yes they are by and large rare; I don’t think I will feel comforted by the thought, “Well it’s only about a 1 in 100,000 chance that a child will have a severe reaction to a vaccination” if my kid is the one damaged by a vaccine. So I’m nervous. It’s time to start though. She is starting to get out and actually interact with the world and that means she needs more protection than just my milk. Though my milk continues to be awesome for her, of course.

She loves to “read” her books and she goes back and forth between her board books and older picture books. She is rather gentle with our books at this point so I don’t feel cranky when she pulls down a grown up book or two to play with.

I think that is about all I have the gumption to write about right now. Maybe I’ll put up pictures later (and hopefully I will be sent pictures from the birthday party. 🙂

Planning ahead

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Second try, now with correct dates.

My mom is already pressuring me to plan Shanna’s first birthday party. I’m trying to figure out dates. Miss Jenny, Miss Laura, and Noah all have birthdays within a week or so of Shanna’s so we are thinking about a joint party cause sure why not. It gives us an excuse for having a wider array of cake! 🙂 So I’m going to do a date poll. Heavier weight will be given to the opinions of shared-celebration folks. 🙂

 

Birthday reflection

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I didn’t make a cake. I ran out of time. Instead, I went to Mommy and Baby Yoga and helped my back feel better. And I had lunch with a dear old friend and got to see how much he has changed recently. Then I went and bought a jogging stroller via a craigslist ad. It’s in nearly new condition and I paid less than 1/2 the sticker price. Rebecca will be proud of me. I went and gave food to Laura’s cats. Then I came back to the house and got Noah so we could go to dinner with a small-ish group of people. It was lovely.

I got comments from dozens of people. I got text messages and phone calls and emails. I heard from people I haven’t heard from in a long time. (Hey Miss Jenny–remember Grant from Fisher? Holy shit!) I guess putting it out into the universe that I really wanted people to acknowledge my birthday worked. It even extended to people who have no idea about livejournal.

I feel loved and blessed. Thank you all.

Not what I expected.

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I took the advice of my therapist and a good friend. I did what I wanted for my birthday. It happened yesterday. It was fucking fabulous. No, ya’ll don’t get to know what it was. 😛 Ok, James and Chris know, but they have to keep their mouths shut.

I will tell you that Noah is the best husband ever for making me hand drawn “I will do ….” coupons. They are sweet and adorable and show a lot of work and consideration about what *I* actually want. Have I mentioned I married the right boy?

And! As a sorta birthday/really Christmas present to both of us–we booked a Disney cruise for Christmas vacation. We’re going to Disney World!!!!!!!!! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

So. Fucking. Excited.

And tired. And hung over. Today I will smile wanly and not be my normal fireball self. That’s fine. 3/5 periods are doing research in the library. It’s almost like I planned for this…

Birthday blues.

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I have not had a history of good birthdays. Pre-18 most of them were either screamingly awful in every way or at least had some drama that soured them. 19 I spent with Anna. She brought me flowers and a balloon and took me to dinner. That was one of my best birthdays ever. 20 consisted of Anna and Tom giving me flowers and taking me to dinner. That was a pretty decent birthday. 21 was the temper tantrum Anna threw at BaGG because going reminded her of her own abuse history. 22 was totally ignored because we were going on a trip later that month. (Uhm… it’s for your birthday! Yeah! Oh, I was planning it anyway… oh well. Don’t get me wrong. The trip was awesome.) 23 was the awkward birthday party that Tom hosted after I broke up with him. Right. It was a good birthday party but so strangely uncomfortable. 24 I woke up and spent the morning crying because I knew Puppy wanted to break up with me. Then I spent the day watching Noah and his then girlfriend and feeling jealous with no way to express that. heh. 25 was mostly ignored.

My birthday is destined to go poorly. It just seems to be fate. I desperately wish that weren’t true, but due to circumstances beyond my control and having weird feelings about the event I don’t think I am capable of enjoying a birthday. I want to do something, but I don’t know what. Noah has suggested trips but I’m stupid and petty and my response is, “Oh yeah! Let’s duplicate that trip you took with how many ex girlfriends?!” I know I shouldn’t react that way. I don’t seem to be able to stop though.

I wish I knew what I wanted. If I knew what I wanted I could at least ask for it and hope to get it. But I don’t know. So I sit here and think–ok, Monday is another birthday. What did I accomplish in the last 12 months? I survived my first year of marriage without making him hate me. Woo hoo!! That is a big one. I painted my house. I survived teaching full time. But I still feel like something is missing. I feel like I am failing in some big, painfully obvious way because there is something I want and don’t seem to be able to have.

I hate my birthday.