Thoughts for today...

Wow, you can easily lose yourself in all this. Mommy-this, Mommy-that, Mommy come here!, Mommy, where are you? Sophia needs and wants me to be with her, next to her, paying attention, participating nearly every second in every activity in her life. I've become - somehow - one of those mothers who can't even go pee by myself. Showers are no longer a single person operation. Even my bed has been invaded by my wee one. Middle of the night shouts of "Mommy!" are an every night occurrence. How did I let this happen? And is it really that awful? I keep telling myself that she'll only be this little once. So I am actually enjoying so much of this time together. But lately, I've been looking at my reflection and wondering "Hey there Mommy, where did you go anyway?"

So in seeking some much-needed balance, I'm going to be taking a workshop that a friend is teaching about trusting your intuition. And I just went for a solo run yesterday with my fabulous new ipod. And I've made a pact with myself to honor the two five-hour timeframes that John has promised to give me each week. Fridays are deemed Movie Days going forward. We'll see if I actually use them as such instead of defaulting to the usual shopping for toiletries at Duane Reade and buying extra socks and laundry detergent at Target. I can barely remember a time when there were days that were entirely my own. I am lost in this Mommyhood and I've been a willing participant in the getting lost, I'm almost afraid to admit. I can blame it on finances for not being able to get a babysitter or that I don't approve of the Cry-It-Out method but there must be a part of me that wanted to get so lost in this role.

They say that the first part of any recovery is acknowledging that there is a problem in the first place so my goal for 2009 is to get my own groove back. Figure out ways to make my life more manageable for me. Figure out a new definition of myself instead of feeling that uncomfortable nervousness when that inevitable question comes: "So what else do you do other than the Mom thing?"

Um, knitting. And I really like to organize stuff. No, not like events (although I used to do that in previous life), but more like my kitchen junk drawer and Sophie's toys and such. Also, I kinda like to write although I'm terrified of anyone reading anything I put on paper. Which has to make one wonder why in the world would I have a blog? A blog that no one reads. Except for one friend who knows that this blog exists (hi Stacey). Or maybe Johnny will read it since he now knows about this blog as well (hi, Sugar).

Anyway, the point is....what is the point? Right. The point is when you get down to it, I'm turning 40 next year and it's got me all crazy wondering what the hell my purpose is really. Big picture purpose, I mean. When I'm in the moment, I can't imagine a better use for my time than dancing around the living room or reading to my girl. But one has to wonder is this all there is? Am I wasting my life with all this questioning and not knowing what to do next? After all, she'll be going to school in no time and then what? Back to the daily grind for me? Oy, my stomach just did a loop thinking of suits and subways and water coolers down the corridor.

I'm keeping the faith that the answer shall be revealed. All in good time. And until then I'm doing my best to be a good mom and oh yeah, balance it all out already......

I gave away the unused cat litter and all three of Calli's bowls. I'm way too frugal and guilt-ridden to ever let anything go to waste, so I posted it under Free Stuff on craigslist. And the first responder came to pick up the stuff earlier this evening. Just as I was opening the outer front door to let him in, the inner wood door walloped Sophia in the back of the head. Somehow it had gotten dislodged from the huge block we use to prop it open. Wails and tortured screams ensued. The guy gave me advice to not let her sleep for 45 minutes because I needed to be certain she didn't have a concussion. (After writing this bit, I'm totally gonna go snopes this nonsense. Really, is that true?) Turns out that she was fine, stopped crying almost immediately after he left. More pressing to me was the fact that we already were about a cranky hour past her bedtime. So I lay with Soph after she calmed down, after our usual prayers and the nightly gratitude list that we offer up to God and the Universe. And I had one of those fake conversations with the guy, imagining him being really grateful for all of the stuff I gave him and my saying gravely "Oh, it's fine, you're quite welcome. Ohhhhh, Calli would have wanted you to have it." And that got me thinking about how much I hate it when people speak for the dead. I've always squirmed a bit when someone busts out with the "Oh, So-and-So would have wanted us all to be laughing and celebrating her life in this way." Well, maybe. At some point, but really...at the Wake? I dunno, call me cynical but that seems a bit crass. And aren't there a bunch of souls up there who just don't give a damn now that they're gone, especially those folks who didn't much care for anything while they were still twittering about town? And another thing, if the AfterLife is all that, the amazing sanctuary and perfect resting place that so many of us like to entertain in our imagination, then wouldn't these souls all just be completely smitten with their fancy-schmancy new digs? Wouldn't they be unfolding the 800-thread count ecru-colored sheets and possibly hanging out in the hot tub with the other new recruits? Poking around campus and perusing the new meal plan, the bookstore, what's on cable that night? That seems to make a helluva lot more sense to me than them all sitting around wishing that, for instance, their life partner got it on with the next available floozy who bumped into him at the grocery store. And Calli, for that matter, my sweet cat of nearly 17 years, I'm just not so sure she'd be all about me giving away her stuff. She was pretty darn territorial back when she was alive so really who's to say that the AfterLife brings such forgiveness and generosity?

Clearly, I have a lot, lot, lot more spiritual work to do.....

Barney.

There was a time not so long ago when 3 a.m. feedings seemed like torture. Now I'm not so sure. Give me a starving, screaming, inconsolable infant any day over this nonsense.

Back to back, repeat after repeat. Every single day. I barely get two gulps of coffee down my throat and I already hear that terrifying theme music. No joke, I'd put good money down that Barney "Red, Yellow, Blue" could turn even a super mild-mannered person into a homicidal maniac. And hearing from other parents that this Barney obsession (seriously, let's call it what it is) lasts only a short while is no consolation to me.

My husband just stares at the screen in disbelief and says the same thing every time: I just don't want my kid to turn out like those little freak kids. I can't say that I disagree. Totally creepy creep.

Anyway, I'm sure that this fad will end just in time for Bratz, Miley or Disney Pixar to take its place.

That's it, I'm moving. To the moon.

I'd love to be able to leave it right there but ahhhh geez. The look on Sophia's face. It's just pure joy. Like seeing a dear old friend, she is just so darn happy. And the way my girl dances makes me melt. It's so joyful and all-consuming. I watch her bopping along to Bahh-nee and for a moment - at the most two - I don't feel like ripping the hair from my head or throwing a clog at the TV screen. It doesn't last long, this lovefest, but how can I possibly deny my dear little one such utter bliss?

So I say (gulp): Thanks, Barney.

Arghhhh.

So about a week ago I was going through my Netflix queue just to see what I've got on there. Most of the DVD's I receive sit ever-cheerful in their bright red pouches on a crowded bookshelf, largely ignored for the better part of three months. I finally decided enough is enough, let's see why all the movies I get suck* so bad. Because it's not like it's random what's sent to me, I'm the one choosing them.

Turns out that a pattern seems to be emerging. Similar to all facets of my life, across the board I'm attracting so much of what I don't want. Despite all the affirmations that I've been doing to improve my life, it appears that I'm still focusing on all the wrong stuff. Financial worry, obsession over life purpose and meaning, should I have stayed in Greece that summer, maybe I should have applied to a better college twenty years ago and surely I'd be a PhD by now ....you know, all the regular junk that goes through your mind on a regular basis. The law of attraction is pulling the wrong stuff to me because duh, that's what I'm telling it I want. Same goes with DVD's apparently.

I recently discussed this very thing with my neighbor over wine one night: I know that I should want to watch that documentary about Afghani widows and young orphans but really, who am I kidding? I'm never going to actually be in the mood for that one. So it just sits. Lays about all day, calls out to me each night.

Ohhhhh, honey. Not tonight, not tonight, too tired baby.....but hey maybe over the weekend?, I tell it, while silently making a mental note to mail that pancake back first thing in the morning.

Looking at the titles, I must subconsciously believe that someone is going to peruse my list at some point, presumably upon my death. They'll sum me and my entire life up by the books on my shelves and the DVD's in my Netflix queue.

Damn! That Jenny was one smart cookie! Holy shit, I've never seen sooooo many foreign flicks on a queue in all my days! Yessirrr, she was really, really something. Not only beautiful but what varied taste too.....a real gem, Jenny was.

I mean, seriously, who is this list for anyway? I literally annihilated about forty "films" off my list in no time. Some were so confounding to me that I literally began considering the possibility that we might be dealing with a split personality thing here. Either that or wow, I'm friggin' pretentiooooous. Now in defense of my (possibly) prententious self, I'd say that it's just me striving to better myself, stay connected and informed and current, be able to have some interesting cocktail chitchat over the holidays? Who really knows though. Right about now I'd settle for your run-of-the-mill romantic comedy to keep me company on a cold winter's night.

What I do know is this: I'm doing the same damn thing with Swaptree. And it's getting a little embarrassing.....

* Author is unable to back up this claim since she didn't spend time actually watching the movies

I'm feeling pretty darn proud of myself today as not only did I go out and purchase a fitness DVD but I actually used it last night. And not just as a coaster this time. With the girl sound asleep and my husband working, I had no choice in the matter really. I did stall a bit on the couch, staring off into space. To the untrained eye, it may have appeared that I was merely relaxing for a few moments. But in actuality, I was flicking through my mental files, searching for something, anything that must be taken care of immediately. Other than a mountain of laundry and a stack of thank you notes, no such luck.

So I got my arse on the yoga mat and just did it, like Nike has been imploring us to do all these years. And it wasn't really all that terrible. The fitness expert on this video is gorgeous and has a sick body. Plus, she's not annoying in the least bit. The slightest bit of a whiny voice during a yoga class, or even worse, a bad sense of humor have gotten me to walk right out of classes in the past. I admit that at a certain time in my life it was just a really good excuse to go have a cigarette. But this chick is totally benign. I did the 'express' version of the workout which meant just 30 valuable minutes out of my day. In the end, buttocks tightened momentarily and feeling slightly less flabby, it didn't seem like such an unreasonable amount of time to 'give up' a couple of days each week.

I'm no Body Image Expert but I'm figuring that if you're buck naked and flicking an angry middle finger at your digital bathroom scale, it's probably time to take some sort of serious action.

The number on there was a brand new one for me. So maybe pizza for both dinner and lunch yesterday wasn't the healthiest, most weight-conscious option. Oh yeah, I just had another slice for lunch today (you can't let perfectly good food go to waste, can you?) Awww, shit, this isn't good. (Mental note to self: You have to order from Fresh Direct today.)

Arggghhhhh, I'm just so mad at myself right now. I finally found the courage a few months back to break up with my scale, and I promised myself that this time it was going to be for good. No more of all that drama, the tears, the countless lies and broken promises. I mean, I finally had to say "enough is enough already" and I tucked him neatly behind a little cabinet to gather dust and mind his own damn business. And I was actually doing really great without him.

Now granted he's been on my mind so much lately, what with all those buttons bursting open and ill-fitting big ol' butt pants taunting me from the closet. I kept trying to blame it on over-drying and shrinking my clothes but I'm not sure that that's really plausible.

Of all days, did it have to be today that I get all weak and needy? Really of all days it had to be today that I reach out to him? That's it, I'm totally going to fire my shrink for this one. I mean, what the hell am I paying good money for to deal with these body image/self-esteem issues if in the end, left to my own devices, I'm getting all aggressive with an inanimate object? That's just plain crazy.

Oh wait, hang on a second. I spent all of last night crying my eyes out after we put our nearly 17-year-old cat to sleep. So this must be some sort of personal punishment thing going on here. OK, that didn't take all that long to figure out so maybe the therapy is actually working. And hmmm, come to think of it, perhaps I could possibly consider non-bread type foods for a meal or two once in a while. Or maybe I could use that jogger I bought a couple of months ago. Get the wheels aligned already and stop using that as yet another excuse for not being fit.

Anyway, I'm feeling like the Grim Reaper today. Not all wicked and sinewy but more like a bloated, weepy, reluctant Reaper.

(God Bless our little Calli who has hopefully made it up to Kitty Heaven by now. )