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Happy St. Patty’s Day 
I let Bean stay home yesterday because she’s got a cough and said she had a sore throat. I’m pretty much convinced it’s ‘just’ post-nasal drip, because she’s fever- and chest congestion- free, but rather than have her dramatic self wandering around informing everyone “I have a very bad cough. I’m sick” every time she coughed, I decided to just keep her home.
It was a long day.
I did get her to nap in the morning, but the kid is just so chronically overtired from waking up at 5:30 regardless of when she goes to bed (Sunday night was around 8:00) that I’m just keeping her treading water … she could use a good week of real dedicated napping and staying at Dave’s, where she always seems to sleep later.
The past couple days have yielded a few Beanism gems, though.
Bean: Let’s cook Lulu (her little plastic lamb figure). First we cut her up and then we cook her in a pot. We will make lamb soup. That will taste delicious.
Later: I love lambs names Lulu. They’re yummy.
Bean: I love you twenty twenty.
Mommy: What am I going to do with that much love?!?
Bean: You’re going to have to give me lots of hugs.
Bean’s got a couple new favorite books that I wanted to mention in case anyone is looking for new reading material.
One is Stand Tall, Molly Lou Mellon. I *love* this book. Love it. It’s such a sweet little story and such a good lesson. One of my favorite things about Bean’s toe-walking and all the rigamarole we go through with it is that she’s been exposed to so many differently-abled kids that it’s all normal to her. In a more ordinary vein, Molly Lou Mellon drives home the whole “looking different isn’t bad” thing, and Bean just loves Molly Lou and the whole story.
Another is Ladybug Girl. She got this for her birthday last year, and still asks to read it a lot. It’s a cute little story that builds self-confidence and belief in oneself.
She also gets a kick out of all the “Bear” books by Karma Wilson. Right now we’re reading Bear Feels Sick every night. These books have a nice, gentle meter that makes them easy to read and they have some repetition that allows non-readers to get involved. They’re cute little stories of friendship and compassion.
She likes Just Another Ordinary Day, too. It’s like illustrated hyperbole – the words say one thing, and the illustrations take it to the max. Nothing major as far as ‘the moral of the story’ goes, but a fun read with a lot of imagination fodder.
We’ve read Click Clack Moo: Cows That Type a couple times, and I think it’s pretty entertaining, but she’s not asking for it a lot. Like the previous book, it’s just a fun, imaginative read.
A late entry, but one she asks for several times a day, is Smash! Crash! Just a silly little book, but one that’s fun to read. There are more Trucktown books out there, so I’ll be keeping an eye out for them, as well.
I’m trying to decide if I get to count these toward my 100 books in 2009 goal … ??
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Now y’all know I’m a huge reader. And when I’m reading, I’m always looking for good parenting books, too. So I swapped for “The Strong-Willed Child” by Dr. James Dobson since Bean is, like her mommy, pretty darn strong-willed
I was blissfully unaware of his “Focus on the Family” alliance, and his joyous book “Dare to Discipline”. And, obviously, the whole god-every-other-page approach to writing. In the future, Google is my friend.
Back to the point. This book is a load of crap. In the chapter 1 he uses a 12-pound dachshund as an illustration of strong will: when the dog stands up to him and bears his teeth, the author gets a “small belt” to “reason” with the dog. He goes on to say: “That tiny dog and I had the most vicious fight ever staged between man and beast.”
And then he plans to dispense his parenting advice.
What an ass.
To be fair, I made it to page 33 before wanting to throttle this idiot. I suffered through all sorts of biblical ‘spare-the-rod’ crap and made it to his page where he starts belittling people who are anti-spanking.
This guy is a douche nozzle. Period. End of story. If you like him and I’ve annoyed you, tough tiddly winks.
I’m not even putting this back up to swap, lest someone get it and implement this crap. This is going in the garbage. And then I’ll be repeatedly washing my hands so there’s no bullsh*t residue left.
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I’ve started reading “An Open Heart” by The Dalai Lama.
Yes, I’ll wait so y’all can process the incongruity of me reading The Dalai Lama’s work.
I’m not usually the Buddhist type, I know. Although I strive for Zen, I rarely achieve it, and my heart and thoughts are far, sometimes light-years, from pure. I have nicknames for Dave and Shannon – not out of spite, but because it entertains me to refer to them with the nicknames. (And, oddly, I am much less inclined to use her nickname than his.) I yell at my oldest and get frustrated with my youngest. I’ve considered selling all of my pets and children on eBay. I watched “Rush Hour” into the high double-digits. I judge people and shoot my mouth off (sometimes).
But I’m also a work in progress, and I’ve dedicated a portion of my time to change and self-improvement. I know, I’m pretty awesome, and it’s hard to imagine what I could improve. It’s taken some due diligence on my part to discover that I could use work on patience, tolerance and open-mindedness. So I’ve been trying to read books that broaden my horizons and provide me with tools for cultivating a more settled mind and a peaceful heart.
Enter the Dalai Lama.
I’ve really been enjoying the book. I don’t plan on converting to Buddhism – although if any religion could tempt me over, it would be Buddhism – but I like and believe in the basic tenets. The book I’m reading focuses on compassion and equanimity, and using meditation to achieve these on the path to enlightenment. The Dalai Lama talks about how to use meditation to lead a more virtuous life; and while I’m not out to be a woman of virtue in the chaste or righteous sense, I like the idea of being a more compassionate person and wishing for the end of suffering and enjoyment of happiness for all. Especially the little people who live in this house
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Recent Beanisms:
I’m going to read my Lady Book. I’m a lady. So I’m going to read my book.
Oh no! What have I done?! (said with just a small note of sarcasm and apathy)
Hey Max, I’m a princess. What do you think?
{picture a pause, where she waits for his telepathic response}
He doesn’t like to be a princess. He likes to be a conductor.
I need to get my ponytail bracelets on so I can freakin’ dance. I like to freakin’ dance.
Mommy: Bean, can you put your nightgown in the laundry?
Bean: Sure. I’d be happy to!
Paramedic, allowing Bean to try on a headset when she toured an ambulance: Would you like to say anything?
Bean: I love my mommy.
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I took Bean to the Trick or Treat Trail at Zilker park today. Was more of a drag than a blast, as you went from booth to booth, stood in line, played a game, then got a piece of candy. Bean doesn’t really get queuing up for a turn, per se, as the preschool version has far fewer children and no pushy parents (or older kids) who get bent when a child’s place in line is more of a fluid thing than a rigid one. But, it was a Bean-and-mommy outing, which always rocks for us. Although, just like last time, she really didn’t want to leave Miss O with Dave.
Saturday we invited my mom and dad to join us at what turned out to be a totally lame local daycare/preschool ‘fall festival’. Sorry guys! But the school is one I’m quasi-interested in for Bean, as it combines Waldorf and Montessori methods, and she’d be doing things like cooking, gardening, outdoor exploration, sewing, woodworking, caring for animals, and housekeeping. I like the more organic learning vibe of these types of programs, and sometimes I wonder if, like a Border Collie, Bean would do better with more “work”.
I’ve been very happy with her current school, and my earlier qualms about her teacher have faded, but I just feel such a draw to this type of ‘education’ for Bean.
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Believe it or not, I’ve now read 99 books this year. I’m trying to finish the year strong, so number 99 was Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha, and 100 is going to be a classic, since I have two months to finish it and I often find older writing a bit to structured and formal to read easily. Not that I can’t grasp it, but since I do almost all my reading walking around with a baby strapped to my back, I often have to pause in my reading for a few extra bouncy steps, or I just need a few minute so *not* holding a book while I walk. So modern literary style is much more reading-while-walking compatible than, say, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I’m trying to get thru the latter, but the stream-of-consciousness style makes it a bit of a struggle
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Lyrics from The Clean Up Song, in one of it’s kajillion permutations.
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Happy Fourth of July!
Since I’m a total lame-o these days, I’m home thanking Bast that I cannot hear any fireworks and that my neighbors aren’t shooting any off. Bean is at her dad’s, Miss O is out cold and I should be baking for Bean’s party tomorrow. I’ll get on that in a few minutes – need to make brownies and a cake. And wrap her gifts, tho I probably won’t have her open gifts at the party since it will be at Chuck E. Cheese. I’ll need something to bribe her with to get her to take a nap when she comes home all wound up
It’s hard to believe that a year ago I was planning for our (Dave and I) upcoming trip to Germany … making romantic hotel reservations, planning our days, dreaming of The Car … We’ll be divorced before the one-year anniversary of the trip. It’s sad and poignant to think how much things have changed, but not heartbreaking anymore. I’m not even sure how angry I am at him anymore.
I lied – I can hear fireworks. Can’t see ‘em, tho. I wonder if Bean is watching them? I hope so, even tho it’s *way* past her bedtime!
So, it looks like I’ll be signing the final divorce decree Monday. Bean’s birthday, for those who enjoy a little painful irony now and then. And Dave will go to court and finally end it on Tuesday. I was going to go, but I don’t think I will. I don’t feel like I need to – there’s nothing left to say or do. Or prove.
Hang on – let me go get the darn cake made and in the oven. I can make the brownies tomorrow, but the cake will need frosted (like my North Carolina-ism there?) and will be too warm to frost if I bake it in the morning.
Okay – done.
So I’m reading a book by Hugh Prather called The Little Book of Letting Go, and I think it’s actually helping. ‘Course I took the “spirit” part to be secular, so I’m having to gloss over the capitalized nouns a bit, but it’s a nice little book and I’m taking a lot of notes. There’s a lot in the book that resonates with me on an intuitive level, and I think it’s been helping to reinforce some things I already believe, and help replace some of the stuff that’s cluttering my forward path.
Prather says “Emotions don’t arrive from nowhere. They fall and rise on the waves of our thoughts.” To which you may say “Duh!” But the thing is, we don’t usually acknowledge that our thoughts *cause* our emotions. It goes along the lines of ‘even if you can’t control a situation, you can control your reaction to a situation’. If a person cuts you off in traffic and you get angry – that’s a choice. The cutter-offer didn’t *make* you angry – you made yourself angry.
There’s a lot more to the book than just that, but I’m only about halfway through and that has been the most valuable section to me – because I really have been letting my emotions rule the day, and forgetting that I have a ton of power over my ‘feelings’.
Anyways …
Miss O is back to a lot of car screaming. It sucks, but what can I do? I can’t stay home all the time, and she’s fine – just doesn’t like being in the car. Otherwise, she’s doing great. She can sit up for a few minutes at a time (she can’t get there by herself, but will stay there if she’s put there) and is doing a lot of the hands-and-knees rocking. She’s had a few rough nap days, and tomorrow won’t be much better, but hopefully Sunday will be low-key enough to get her some normal naps.
Bean is Bean. She says really clever (and often really funny) stuff and tricks me into thinking she’s older/”smarter” than she is, so I have all these unrealistic expectations. And totally realistic ones that are met (or not) on a whim. And then there’s the whole divorce / two homes thing that’s probably causing some setbacks and odd behaviors …
But I did really well this week with her. After challenging myself to step my game up on Sunday, we made it through Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday with no real stressful episodes. Well, it was sometimes stressful, but I kept my sense of humor and did my best to set both of us up for success. Thursday morning was a bit rough, but thankfully Dave picked her up at like 10:30 so it didn’t spiral out of control. There was a screaming time out, but after that, she and I were both able to reset a little and not be as tightly wound. But the days before that were great.
Hopefully I can keep the trend going this coming week, as it’s a long two-week stretch with Dave only taking her two nights out of 10. But next weekend is my only full weekend with her all month (Dave’s folks will be in town on my other weekend, and I don’t mind Bean staying at Dave’s so she can see them), so hopefully these two weeks will be good ones.
Lyrics from the Grateful Dead’s “Touch of Grey“
I usually put this kind of post in my book blog, but this was a really good book and one I’d recommend: The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls.
This is one of those books that makes me grateful for the life I’ve lead. While my current situation is not always the best, there are always worse roads to travel, and Jeannette Walls walked many miles on one of those roads. A brilliantly-written memoir of a life that could easily have condemned her to failure and misery, but one she, and her siblings, survived and triumphed over.
Not a whole lot of challenge-worthy creativity going on. I think I’m going to bake with Bean tomorrow … I just have to decide between real bread and chocolate chip cookies.
I did apply for a telecommuting job, and will probably apply for a couple more over the next few days. I really need to have some extra money coming in, since I underestimated some expenses, and may have to pay the difference between what Dave agreed to on insurance and what COBRA will cost, as private insurance is not easy to come by when you actually have a medical history. Le sigh. So I’ve been dipping into my savings and if I don’t find a way to stop that bleed and shore it up, I’ll be up the creek in a year.
I think, also, that having a “real job” will be invaluable to my somewhat diminished self esteem. It’s a good way for me to take a small risk, too, and ‘put myself out there’ in a less scary sense than dating. Not that I’m even remotely ready for that (unlike some people, who seem to need to set their new relationship at warp speed as if taking it slowly would leave too much time for reflection … Dave), but if/when I do start dating, I need to be a little less skittish about the ‘risk’ of being left again.
I’ve realized that knowing Dave never gave me or our marriage a chance is kind of cold comfort; yeah, it makes me all righteous and all, but it kind of underscores the frailty of all relationships. Not y’all, my happily married readers with good husbands/wives. But for loosahs like me who apparently can’t pick a winner The optimist in me wants to be able to say “yes – *that’s* what went wrong, and so in not doing that, I can divorce-proof my next relationship.”
But I can’t. No-one can. I’ll be just as exposed next time as I was this time.
There’s a line in Nora Ephron’s book, Heartburn, that resonated with me when I read it the other day: “… And then the dream breaks into a million tiny pieces. The dream dies. Which leaves you with a choice: you can settle for reality, or you can go off, like a fool, and dream another dream.”
Today’s Beanism came when I asked her if she had fun at Grandma and Grandpa’s last week. She plays outside there, in a blow-up ‘pool’ (an old inflatable raft/boat thing), and loves to play with the hose, too.
Mommy: Did you water any plants?
Bean: Yeah. I did it all by myself!
Mommy: You did? Did grandpa help?
Bean: He tried to water me and I said ‘Grandpa! What the heck are you doing?! I’m not a plant, I’m a (insert her name here)!’”
Her tone was so indignant, too. So grandpa, don’t water the kid, ‘kay? She’s not a plant.
Lyrics from Dido’s Life for Rent
Well, Bean did make it to school, but came home and crashed for a 3.5 hour nap, woke up hot and was asleep again for the night about 3 hours later. She’s feeling punky and says her mouth and throat hurt – I’m hoping it’s just post-nasal drip and/or teething for her, but if she’s still talking about her throat tomorrow, I may take her in.
Miss O is still snotty, but not feverish today. We’re on day three or four, though, of a lot more crying than I am presently used to. Bedtime has become a full hour rigmarole of nurse – cry/holler/scream – nurse – lay on tummy and be patted to sleep. And if Bean’s feeling her normal self, that hour of getting O to sleep is followed by getting Bean to sleep. This is my fifth night in a row on my own, and I can honestly say that bedtime as a single mom with two sucks. Dave has it so damn easy … even when he has Bean, he just has Bean.
Not a whole lot of Beanisms in the past couple days. Saturday was hell day, yesterday wasn’t much better, but I managed, and today she’s feeling too punky to be her usual loquacious self. She had a couple conversations with Max that were amusing, and she still talked to Miss O a lot, but hopefully she’ll be a bit more herself tomorrow and I’ll get a few good quotes.
I’m doing better. I’m trying really hard to get to a better place about a lot of things, largely because I still have to deal with Dave and I really don’t want to dread doing that, or have it be acrimonious.
I’ve been trying to get more reading done … my ‘to read’ queue is now a good 40 or so books long. I’m reading my first Carl Hiaasen book, his first book “Tourist Season”. He’s a U of F grad, so I’ve been meaning to read his stuff for awhile. I’m really digging it.
