During a deployment, the spouse left behind has little control (aside from the Power of Attorney that gives us all control) of our emotions and when and where we are going to have a break down. Imagine walking on an emotional tight rope: everything is fine as long as you keep your balance, one wrong breath and you fall which results in an emotional breakdown. The key is balancing through the breaths we take, for me it is about controlling what happens during my days. My days are planned out so that everything that is done, I know I can do, this helps me keep my breath balanced so I don't fall. After all, deployments are taken one breath at a time.
This morning I intended to do some yard work, which I have done numerous times, it was something I knew I could do...knew I could control. But before HB's departure, he upgraded our electric weed whacker with a gas one. The concept seemed easy enough, rather than an "on" button all you have to do is press the red button 6 times, switch the lever to "Start", pull the cord and hit the trigger which switches the lever to "Run."
So I:
Push the red button 6 times...turn the lever to start...pull the cord...hit the trigger....
Push the red button 6 times again...turn the lever to start....pull the cord...hit the trigger....
turn the lever to start....pull the cord....hit the trigger....
pull the cord...hit the trigger...
pull the cord...
step on the weed whacker and pull the cord....
stand up-right...step on the weed whacker...pull the cord...
pull the cord...pull the cord...pull the cord....
Threaten the weed whacker...pull the cord....pull the cord...
Threaten Craftman...pull the cord...pull the cord....
Put gas in the weed whacker...push the button 6 times...put the lever on "Start".....pull the cord....
smoked a cigarette as I pulled the cord....
Cry....pull the cord...pull the cord...
After 35 minutes I fell off my tight rope. I called my dad (who's 2 states away) for help (what he was suppose to do from 2 states away, I wasn't sure), but he wasn't near his phone. So I attempted to start the weed whacker again. Instead of starting, I broke down and balled in my front yard. Crying ment that I lost control of myself, which made me angry so I cried some more. Realizing I'm crying over a weed whacker and how retarded that is made me angry as well, so I cried some more (it was a horrible cycle).
I am the only one on my street that doesn't go to church on Sunday mornings, so no one came to my rescue as I threw a fit in my front yard. Not knowing what to do, I called a friend who's husband was still home and lived close by. Within minutes a white PT Cruiser (which is as good as a white knight) pulled up. Sheri comforted me by telling me that she threw her weed whacker across her yard when it wouldn't start, so I shouldn't feel bad. Her husband, of course, started my weed whacker in one go....
He schooled me on the art of starting a gas weed whacker and after chatting with my dear saviors, they were off.
With a new confidence and getting over my cry-baby- act, I confronted the demon Craftman produced to harass women, and it started.
Feeling good now, I began to weed whack my front yard. Unfortunately, half way threw I ran out of string......figures....
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Joys of Parenthood
I hate walmart, always have. Nothing good happens when I go to walmart. But I had to pick up some dinner and send out a western union to my husband and I figured I could brave walmart today with my three girls.
Mistake 1: I took all three kids with me to Walmart.
While traveling towards the food section, we came across a display of children's sun glasses and all the kids got excited, so we took our time and played around trying on all the different kinds and making faces at each other.
Mistake 2: Don't take your time in Walmart with 3 kids.
After some giggles and selecting which pairs of sun glasses the girls wanted we went off to the grocery isles. Then somewhere in the frozen foods section Nana (who is 5) had a melt down. She noticed that I wasn't getting chicken nuggets and that's want she wanted. So she cried.
Mistake 3: I took the kids to get food with me at Walmart, and didn't let them pick what they wanted to eat for dinner.
We then made our way to the checkout lines when Nana decided that she didn't like the glasses she chose. So her crying about chciken nuggets turned into a fit about not getting the glasses she wanted. I gave her 2 options, to love the glasses because she looks beautiful in them or to not get them since she doesn't want them. This upset her even more and her fit transformed into a feet stomping tantrum of screams (very uncharacteristic of her). Shocked by her reaction, I suggested she stop because she wasn't being very lady like. My suggestion upset her more.
Mistake 4: Don't make suggestions for a 5 year old.
As the products of food were being rung up, her tantrum continued. So I decided that she wasn't behaving well enough to receive sun glasses, and I took them out of the cart. I paid for my goods and went to the bank inside walmart to get the western union money orders for HB.
Mistake 5: Don't reason with a 5 year's behavior
Filling out the money order, Nana continued her rantings, "I WANT MY SUN GLASSES! I WANT MY SUN GLASS!" again and again and again. At this point I began a calming breathing exercise and pretended I was far away. it would have worked if the snotty bank tellers weren't looking at me as if I was a horrible person. It took 35 minutes for the teller to put my order in and half way threw Nana's screams (yes, they were screams) turned into "I HAVE TO GO PEE!"and she displayed a the dramatic version of the pee-pee dance. The teller with my ID and Debit Card took her sweet time and glared at me as if I was aweful.
Mistake 6: I got a first time bank teller who didn't realize I can't take my screaming child to the bathroom until she hands me my cards back.
Becoming somewhat irritated now, I began counting out loud and breathing heavier. My frustrations not able to contain themselves, I snapped....at the bank teller. In a not so kind manner, I informed that my screaming child needed to go to the bathroom and I needed to exit Walmart as quickly as possible, so she needs to hurry up or find someone to that knows what they are doing. Rather than understanding my situation, the bank teller threw my attitude back at me which infuriated me more so.
Mistake 7: Sometimes I should keep my mouth shut.
After the 35 minutes at the bank and a total of 40 minutes of Nana's tantrum, I took her to the bathroom. She quieted down, did her thing, but the moment we left the bathroom she began screaming again, "I WANT MY GLASSES!" At this point I am in complete disbelief and I had to bend over to pick my jaw up from the floor. I explained that she wasn't getting them because of her attitude and we were leaving.
Passing the bank, the tellers continued their glare towards me and as if on cue the far end of the cart shocked Nana with a jolt of static electricity. Not realizing this right away I was blown away when her yells switched to "MOMMY, YOU HURT ME MOMMY! YOU HURT ME!"
Mistake 8: don't walk to close to a scream child, incase you shock them.
So of course, a dedicated Walmart employee with a heart of gold and an apparent child activist walked up to me and informed me that she had called security on me.
Mistake 9: I went to Walmart.
So I wait, with my screaming child and my 2 other dumbfounded children. Security came and thank god Sissy (my 8 year old) persisted that I was telling the truth and Nana was just having a fit because of chicken nugget and sun glasses.
Not pausing, Nana continued her tantrum, now screaming a combination of sentenses about chicken nuggets, sun glasses, and me hurting her. We walked out to the car, and I discovered that I put my keys down somewhere in the darn store during the screaming and left them there.
Mistake 9: I went to Walmart with 3 kids and stayed during a tantrum to western union money to my husband, leaving my keys somewhere during the chaos.
Going back in, the heroic employee who saves children from evil mothers, the security guard, and the bank tellers acknowledged my reentrance with the same glare at me and a sympathic look at the still screaming Nana, as if these people don't have children and don't understand that tantrums aren't always caused from an evil mom. I found my keys at the bank and made my way home.
Trace Adkins says in his new song that, "I'm gonna miss this".....yeah, the joys of parenthood are full of highlights. Maybe one day, long from now, when Nana has her own child who throws a tantrum around people who obviously have no children and call security on her, I'll look back and at this moment and miss it....or laugh at her the way my parents laugh at me now
Mistake 1: I took all three kids with me to Walmart.
While traveling towards the food section, we came across a display of children's sun glasses and all the kids got excited, so we took our time and played around trying on all the different kinds and making faces at each other.
Mistake 2: Don't take your time in Walmart with 3 kids.
After some giggles and selecting which pairs of sun glasses the girls wanted we went off to the grocery isles. Then somewhere in the frozen foods section Nana (who is 5) had a melt down. She noticed that I wasn't getting chicken nuggets and that's want she wanted. So she cried.
Mistake 3: I took the kids to get food with me at Walmart, and didn't let them pick what they wanted to eat for dinner.
We then made our way to the checkout lines when Nana decided that she didn't like the glasses she chose. So her crying about chciken nuggets turned into a fit about not getting the glasses she wanted. I gave her 2 options, to love the glasses because she looks beautiful in them or to not get them since she doesn't want them. This upset her even more and her fit transformed into a feet stomping tantrum of screams (very uncharacteristic of her). Shocked by her reaction, I suggested she stop because she wasn't being very lady like. My suggestion upset her more.
Mistake 4: Don't make suggestions for a 5 year old.
As the products of food were being rung up, her tantrum continued. So I decided that she wasn't behaving well enough to receive sun glasses, and I took them out of the cart. I paid for my goods and went to the bank inside walmart to get the western union money orders for HB.
Mistake 5: Don't reason with a 5 year's behavior
Filling out the money order, Nana continued her rantings, "I WANT MY SUN GLASSES! I WANT MY SUN GLASS!" again and again and again. At this point I began a calming breathing exercise and pretended I was far away. it would have worked if the snotty bank tellers weren't looking at me as if I was a horrible person. It took 35 minutes for the teller to put my order in and half way threw Nana's screams (yes, they were screams) turned into "I HAVE TO GO PEE!"and she displayed a the dramatic version of the pee-pee dance. The teller with my ID and Debit Card took her sweet time and glared at me as if I was aweful.
Mistake 6: I got a first time bank teller who didn't realize I can't take my screaming child to the bathroom until she hands me my cards back.
Becoming somewhat irritated now, I began counting out loud and breathing heavier. My frustrations not able to contain themselves, I snapped....at the bank teller. In a not so kind manner, I informed that my screaming child needed to go to the bathroom and I needed to exit Walmart as quickly as possible, so she needs to hurry up or find someone to that knows what they are doing. Rather than understanding my situation, the bank teller threw my attitude back at me which infuriated me more so.
Mistake 7: Sometimes I should keep my mouth shut.
After the 35 minutes at the bank and a total of 40 minutes of Nana's tantrum, I took her to the bathroom. She quieted down, did her thing, but the moment we left the bathroom she began screaming again, "I WANT MY GLASSES!" At this point I am in complete disbelief and I had to bend over to pick my jaw up from the floor. I explained that she wasn't getting them because of her attitude and we were leaving.
Passing the bank, the tellers continued their glare towards me and as if on cue the far end of the cart shocked Nana with a jolt of static electricity. Not realizing this right away I was blown away when her yells switched to "MOMMY, YOU HURT ME MOMMY! YOU HURT ME!"
Mistake 8: don't walk to close to a scream child, incase you shock them.
So of course, a dedicated Walmart employee with a heart of gold and an apparent child activist walked up to me and informed me that she had called security on me.
Mistake 9: I went to Walmart.
So I wait, with my screaming child and my 2 other dumbfounded children. Security came and thank god Sissy (my 8 year old) persisted that I was telling the truth and Nana was just having a fit because of chicken nugget and sun glasses.
Not pausing, Nana continued her tantrum, now screaming a combination of sentenses about chicken nuggets, sun glasses, and me hurting her. We walked out to the car, and I discovered that I put my keys down somewhere in the darn store during the screaming and left them there.
Mistake 9: I went to Walmart with 3 kids and stayed during a tantrum to western union money to my husband, leaving my keys somewhere during the chaos.
Going back in, the heroic employee who saves children from evil mothers, the security guard, and the bank tellers acknowledged my reentrance with the same glare at me and a sympathic look at the still screaming Nana, as if these people don't have children and don't understand that tantrums aren't always caused from an evil mom. I found my keys at the bank and made my way home.
Trace Adkins says in his new song that, "I'm gonna miss this".....yeah, the joys of parenthood are full of highlights. Maybe one day, long from now, when Nana has her own child who throws a tantrum around people who obviously have no children and call security on her, I'll look back and at this moment and miss it....or laugh at her the way my parents laugh at me now
Friday, February 29, 2008
Creative Frustration Rambles Through Hunger
Some might say that there is a certain art form that goes into writting a prestine academic paper .... unfortunately I'm not one of those people, though I would have to say that my papers are pretty darn good, especially given their subject matter (accounting, management...blah, not much creative writing in there!).
I tried many time to close my dreary eyes and go to sleep, only to find that I was as restless as a child on the night of christmas eve. Except it wasn't the fresh Christmas snow or holiday presents that kept me up. I had a surge of creativity.
My mind flooded with all the things I want to paint, all the wonder I wanted to draw with charcoal. And with each creative birth, reality would set in and I would remember that I am out of paints and pencils. That and I don't have an easle...painting is so much easier with a dandy tool such as the easle (versus doing it on the floor...which is how I paint).
I then carried my mind away to when I would resupply myself with these items, where I would store them in my home, and I imagined myself working in the workstation I created in my mind's eye. Rather than quieting myself and falling asleep with a smile on my face for the "things-yet-to-come" I became frustrated that I've let myself run out of these items.
So I got up and considered reading since TV isn't very stimulating and what I aparently needed was some creative stimulation. I scanned my bookshelves....I need to buy another good book... I've read all mine and the last book I read was so outstanding that rereading anything else is a waste of my time...rereading that outstanding book wouldn't do my any good either since that book captivated me so intensely I was literally obsessed with the characters within it. They were so mutely disturbing and ghostly haunting (but not in a "boo" ghost fashion, more like haunting past memories and creepy childhoods where rights and wrongs blurred and then blurred some more when the children are feral). Anyhow, that's not what this blog is about, is it? And just as I don't have the obsessive energy in me at the moment to reread this gripping tale, I don't have the passion to tease my memories of these characters.
No, this blog is not about the wonderful book I read with such devotion a month ago which has left me feeling so starved that I have now been awake for the last 23 hours due the the hunger pains I have been left since turning its last page Nope, not this at all...
Instead, this blog is about how my creative insomnia is becoming so frustrated and stunted that I got up at one a.m. to pay my bills then finished the wee morning hours completing an assignment for my class next week. Not sure why I did that, now I'll really have nothing to do for a while and become so emaciated spiritually that I'll resort to cooking.
Cooking has always been my last resort in times like this (this isn't the first time this has happened, and if I had gone out to purchase my desired supplies the first time I wouldn't have to repeat the process as often as I do). I begin to use the colors, textures, tastes, smells, and size of foods as my projects. I'll have to admit, I come up with some yummy-lishous entrees that way, discovering new family favorites and diversifying our menu. I log my creation in a book.... a cook book I suppose it would be called, a collection of me inadvertingly halting my artistic desires to thrive, resulting in a fully fed family.
Speaking of food, I'm starved now. ....
I tried many time to close my dreary eyes and go to sleep, only to find that I was as restless as a child on the night of christmas eve. Except it wasn't the fresh Christmas snow or holiday presents that kept me up. I had a surge of creativity.
My mind flooded with all the things I want to paint, all the wonder I wanted to draw with charcoal. And with each creative birth, reality would set in and I would remember that I am out of paints and pencils. That and I don't have an easle...painting is so much easier with a dandy tool such as the easle (versus doing it on the floor...which is how I paint).
I then carried my mind away to when I would resupply myself with these items, where I would store them in my home, and I imagined myself working in the workstation I created in my mind's eye. Rather than quieting myself and falling asleep with a smile on my face for the "things-yet-to-come" I became frustrated that I've let myself run out of these items.
So I got up and considered reading since TV isn't very stimulating and what I aparently needed was some creative stimulation. I scanned my bookshelves....I need to buy another good book... I've read all mine and the last book I read was so outstanding that rereading anything else is a waste of my time...rereading that outstanding book wouldn't do my any good either since that book captivated me so intensely I was literally obsessed with the characters within it. They were so mutely disturbing and ghostly haunting (but not in a "boo" ghost fashion, more like haunting past memories and creepy childhoods where rights and wrongs blurred and then blurred some more when the children are feral). Anyhow, that's not what this blog is about, is it? And just as I don't have the obsessive energy in me at the moment to reread this gripping tale, I don't have the passion to tease my memories of these characters.
No, this blog is not about the wonderful book I read with such devotion a month ago which has left me feeling so starved that I have now been awake for the last 23 hours due the the hunger pains I have been left since turning its last page Nope, not this at all...
Instead, this blog is about how my creative insomnia is becoming so frustrated and stunted that I got up at one a.m. to pay my bills then finished the wee morning hours completing an assignment for my class next week. Not sure why I did that, now I'll really have nothing to do for a while and become so emaciated spiritually that I'll resort to cooking.
Cooking has always been my last resort in times like this (this isn't the first time this has happened, and if I had gone out to purchase my desired supplies the first time I wouldn't have to repeat the process as often as I do). I begin to use the colors, textures, tastes, smells, and size of foods as my projects. I'll have to admit, I come up with some yummy-lishous entrees that way, discovering new family favorites and diversifying our menu. I log my creation in a book.... a cook book I suppose it would be called, a collection of me inadvertingly halting my artistic desires to thrive, resulting in a fully fed family.
Speaking of food, I'm starved now. ....
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Beware of the Homeless
Monday, January 21st, 2008:
A homeless man attacked me while I was stopped in my car.
I had the advantage because I had a car and he did not.
The kids were with me.
I thought he was going to carjack me.
So I almost ran him over.
I threw $3 out my window for him to balance my karma for almost hitting him.
I have no regrets.
(If you know me, you know that I was flipping out the whole time and basically driving from the passenger side since he scared the shit out of me and I have a terrible panic disorder)
A homeless man attacked me while I was stopped in my car.
I had the advantage because I had a car and he did not.
The kids were with me.
I thought he was going to carjack me.
So I almost ran him over.
I threw $3 out my window for him to balance my karma for almost hitting him.
I have no regrets.
(If you know me, you know that I was flipping out the whole time and basically driving from the passenger side since he scared the shit out of me and I have a terrible panic disorder)
Discovering America's retail hours
I have been in America now for 10 months and 8 days, and you would've thought that during that time I would have gone out at least once on a sunday night. Oddly enough, tonight was the first time in years. I encounted another plumbing incident (I'm almost certain that my pipes despise me) 3 days ago (the details are not important as they only make me look like an idiot) and for three days I've tried on and off to resolve this on my own, then at 7pm Sunday night I had enough and decided to go tool shopping (which would've been interesting since my knowledge of tools as about as deep as the shallow end of a pool). I pack my children up against their will (they were in the middle of a Barbie session) and drove out to Lowes.
not thinking anything of the empty parking lot, I get the kids out of the car and walk up to the door that wouldn't open. Took me a while to realize that the store was closed (my light bulb moments are pretty dim whenever I'm focused on one task). I was baffled, then went off to Home Depot assuming that Lowes just closes early on sundays.
Home Depot was closed. I was very irritated going back home (I got lost since roads here are one way roads and I don't find myself at a hardware store very often) and couldn't understand why everything was closed so early. I kept thinking, "this is America, the country of 24 hours!"....or at least that's what we refered to it in Germany (a country that closes for the night in time for dinner and off all day on sundays).
Driving around in the dark I tried to remember if America was always like that, closing early on sundays, and if it was why is America refered to the country of 24 hours? (But I couldn't concentrate on recalling that detail from my past, my daughters believed that the moon was spinning out of control from the way it looked tonight, so I had to give a little astronomy/atmosphere lesson which kept interupting my thought process.)
For being an American, I sure do feel foreign sometimes!
Anyhow, I'm sure most of you all have known for some time now that in America, sundays are early work days for retail stores. If you didn't know, you do now.
Personally, I'm dumbfounded that it took me 10 months to discover this.
not thinking anything of the empty parking lot, I get the kids out of the car and walk up to the door that wouldn't open. Took me a while to realize that the store was closed (my light bulb moments are pretty dim whenever I'm focused on one task). I was baffled, then went off to Home Depot assuming that Lowes just closes early on sundays.
Home Depot was closed. I was very irritated going back home (I got lost since roads here are one way roads and I don't find myself at a hardware store very often) and couldn't understand why everything was closed so early. I kept thinking, "this is America, the country of 24 hours!"....or at least that's what we refered to it in Germany (a country that closes for the night in time for dinner and off all day on sundays).
Driving around in the dark I tried to remember if America was always like that, closing early on sundays, and if it was why is America refered to the country of 24 hours? (But I couldn't concentrate on recalling that detail from my past, my daughters believed that the moon was spinning out of control from the way it looked tonight, so I had to give a little astronomy/atmosphere lesson which kept interupting my thought process.)
For being an American, I sure do feel foreign sometimes!
Anyhow, I'm sure most of you all have known for some time now that in America, sundays are early work days for retail stores. If you didn't know, you do now.
Personally, I'm dumbfounded that it took me 10 months to discover this.
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