mighty maggie

I've Stopped Running (For Now)

2012-05-23T20:10:35-07:00

I brought my running shoes to Vegas, but I never took them out of my bag. I've brought my running shoes on other vacations and used them daily, but this time I barely considered it. Honestly, just attempting to find the work out room in that vast hotel property sounded like something beyond my capabilities.

I told myself I would run when we got home and I seriously had every intention of doing so. But it was a rough day or two when we got home and I didn't have time and I was so tired. I'd also told myself I would have a little self-control around food when we got home, no more of this pastries for breakfast, lunch, and dinner like I did in Vegas. But that didn't really happen either. I didn't have time to grocery shop until Saturday, so from Wednesday when we got home to Saturday morning I was, well, eating pastries for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Almost.

Saturday is when I stopped all that. Saturday I went grocery shopping for a meal plan that was Super Low Carb. I busted out the South Beach Diet book for a few recipes and loaded up on the lunch foods and snacks that have served me well before. And eggs. A trillion eggs. Good thing I love eggs.

A small amount of shame, a bridesmaid dress to fit into, determination, a little competitiveness, and just knowing that I CAN do it were my motivators here. I was just sort of tired of myself - do you know what I mean? Tired of not getting it together. So I decided that Saturday I would get it together. I also decided that I wouldn't exercise.

I KNOW. However. Here are my thoughts. I have been struuuuuggling with weight loss since about March. I know it wasn't a plateau - I just wasn't doing what needed to be done. I was at a point where I wasn't back in my old clothes, but I was close and I was just sort of fine with it. And as soon as Lent was over I was back into my chocolate addiction, which becomes more of a madness when I'm not feeling so great, which has been most of this spring. I would step on the scale every morning and hate myself. I would plan my entire day around when I could get a run in, or when I could have 30 minutes to myself in front of the TV. If Emma didn't nap right or Jack bugged me all through quiet time, I stressed out, because I wouldn't get to exercise and I wouldn't lose weight that day. Then there were the days when I was doing my video in the morning and running in the afternoon. I was so proud of myself on those days! And some mornings I'd be down a pound or two. But I was constantly gaining and losing those same two or three pounds. I started to feel like maybe I should just throw those clothes in the Goodwill bag because this was NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN.

Anyway, the not exercising part wasn't really a PLAN so much as space I decided to give myself. If I felt like running I would, but I wasn't going to make a big deal about it or feel guilty if I didn't. That article I linked to last week, about obesity and all that, reminded me that I have done this before without exercising AT ALL. Not that exercise isn't GOOD, clearly I am not saying that, but a bit of science lent some credibility to my own experience, and that gave me space to stop.

The last few days I've spent my unpredictable nap times and quiet times with a book, my breakfast or lunch, sometimes an episode of Felicity. Often a nap, since the medicine I'm on has a drowsy side effect and I'm already not sleeping enough at night. And oh, it is wonderful. I haven't dreaded Having To Go Exercise Now, I haven't stressed about my schedule, I haven't worried about how I'm not running enough, I just STOPPED.

I've also lost three pounds since Saturday. Do you know how long it took me to lose the previous three pounds? Like, at least a month and a half.

Eating like this, which I'm used to and doesn't bother me half as much as it once did, is giving me a semblance of control, which I can really use right now. And choosing to let go of daily exercise has given me a break from giving my own self a hard time.

I don't intend to QUIT running. I actually like it. I do. I especially have to get back into it if I'm going to do NaNoWriMo like I said I would at the beginning of the year. I've never written so much as when I was running on a regular basis (PRE-Emma, I should add!) But after I lost all that weight after Molly, I told myself that if I was going to keep it up, running couldn't be a weight loss thing, it had to be a mental health thing. And it was, for a long time, until it turned into just another thing I couldn't get done the way I wanted to do it.

I'll get back to it. Maybe even tomorrow. But I'm not going to insist on it, not any time soon. And one day I'll get back to Jillian, because I really like those arm muscles she gave me that summer, but I don't have to do that right now either.

So, you know I'm not ADVOCATING this, right? You do what works for you! And who knows how long this is going to work for me. Right now I'm super motivated to keep eating this way, which really is good for my particular body type, I believe. But I'm well aware that I'll always be a cakemonster at heart and there will be plenty of backslides. And there once was a time when I felt horrible if I WASN'T exercising almost every day. I think I would like to feel that way again, but right now I feel like I've made a good decision for me, backed up by those three lost pounds, backed up by the fact that I'm going to bed early and not stuffing my face at night, backed up by the no-more-berating-myself if I miss the exercise opportunity in my day.

We'll see, right?

The Summer Survival Plan

2012-05-22T19:26:50-07:00

I wasn't going to do any Summer Activities. It sounded exhausting. I have a little baby, you know, who takes two naps a day and not, unfortunately, on a terribly predictable schedule and how in the world am I supposed to ferry two other children back and forth to their respective classes and camps and lessons? No, thank you. That's what our backyard is for. Plus, those activities are pricey. I want to SAVE that preschool money this summer. And I won't feel guilty about it! When my friends start talking about all the stuff their kids are signed up for, I will remind myself that 99% of them have JOBS and need CHILDCARE! The Cheung children are just going to Putz Around all summer and they are going to LIKE IT!

Yeah, well, would you like to read the new Maggie Cheung Summer Survival Plan?

Step One: SIGN UP FOR CLASSES ALREADY OMG
Jack and I are just... If this no-preschool-day is any evidence, I just don't think we're going to make it to kindergarten unless we find ourselves some structure. If I were a more creative, harder working parent with exceptional mental health, I think I could pull off a Summer O' Structure on my own. But I am a sleep deprived, lazy parent with rather questionable mental health and I think it's better for both of us if I schedule some Away Time. Not a ton! But some. Some is good.

SO. Phillip has been a angst-ridden mess about the fact that our kids have not had swim lessons, but fret no more, PCheung! This is the summer of swimming. We are going to DO this thing. I've got info for every kind of lesson, from the community pools to the private covered-heated-backyard-pool in the fancy neighborhood. I only need to figure out how to ensure PHILLIP is the one who has to get in the pool with them, not me.

Also, I thought all the lessons and camps and stuff would be out of my price range, but I have lately discovered the local community center and $41 for 5 weeks of ballet lessons? I CAN DO THAT. Molly has been pretending to be a ballerina for months and now is the time to indulge it, before she gets a bit older and learns she's inherited her mother's decidedly un-ballerina-like physique. I'm trying to find some sort of soccer or t-ball thing for Jack (before you get indignant, I most certainly did ask him if he wanted to take ballet lessons and he gave me an unequivocal NO) but the times are all, like, 1:30 to 3 or 12:15 to 2 and just because they are cheap doesn't mean I'm going to interrupt the sacred and holy afternoon nap.

The other thing I'm looking into is a Vacation Bible School week. I ran into problems here (along with some of the community center class options) because Molly won't be four until the end of the summer. So many things are for 3-4 year olds and 5-7 year olds and simply for the convenience factor I need them to be in the same class! Anyway, the VBS I'm looking at starts at age 4. I emailed to ask if they are, you know, STRICT about it. Which is really not something I do, you know, I am a RULE FOLLOWER. But at age 32-and-three-quarters I am slowly coming around to the idea that It's Okay To Ask.

So! Classes! Things to put on the calendar and look forward to! YES!

Step 2: A MOTHER'S HELPER? PERHAPS?
I am still not really sure what a mother's helper IS. My understanding is that it's a tweenage girl who comes to your house for some amount of time and occupies your children in various games and activities while you get laundry done and cook dinner and maybe clean a bathroom. This sounds great. But you know what sounds even better? A tweenage girl who occupies the kids while I type on the computer or read a book or take a nap. IS THAT HORRIBLE? Especially as a SAHM?

EITHER WAY, here is my idea. The only other kid on our street is a tweenage girl. I forget exactly how old - I've actually never met her and rarely see her - but I think about 12. Her parents were the first people we met on our street; her dad was actually the one who was all cranky about how much we paid for the house (meaning: not as much as he wants for HIS house.) But her mom is the one who brought up babysitting that one time and I remember thinking, "No way! Too young!" but you guys, NOT too young for a mother's helper! So my idea is to march over to her house one of these days and ask if she wants a summer job. Two to three afternoons a week, two-ish hours a day, $5 an hour. What do you think? I have no idea what the going rate is. I have no idea if she'd even be interested. She's probably scheduled up with her OWN activities. Blargh!

If she doesn't work out, Ursula The Excellent Neighbor has alerted my attention to another tweenage girl in the neighborhood who does some babysitting. Maybe she'd be interested in some summertime employment.

I feel a little guilty, like I'm a SAHM, I should not need a mother's helper. Maybe I don't need it, but it'd be REALLY REALLY NICE. When I was proposing all of this to Phillip he was all, "But you don't have preschool! You can do anything you want! You can go visit your family! You can go to parks! You can hang out with all your friends!" and I'm all DUDE, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW. Goodbye, preschool money. But I will be glad to spend you on ballet and 12-year-old girls.

Have you guys thought about the summer?

Why did I give the FPC all the brownies?

2012-05-21T20:28:42-07:00

It rained all day. Really hard, unrelenting rain. It was terrible.

Emma was awake nearly two hours last night. We took turns trying to put her back to sleep, kept failing, kept making loud dramatic middle-of-the-night sighs that are intended to inform the other person that THEY should be the one to get up this time... She'd eaten two tubs of baby food plus a six ounce bottle at bedtime. When she woke up at 1:30, I automatically made another bottle. She drank four ounces, and when I couldn't get her to go down and Phillip took his turn, she drank the other two. On my final and last turn I made yet another bottle, not because I thought she was hungry but because that was the last trick in my bag. She drank another four ounces and went back to sleep. Finally.

It's wearing on us. Even my standard "that's just what babies do" acceptance and optimism is cracking.

I visit my sister in the morning and see her tiny baby and listen to the woes of newborn sleep and I think, well, at least we're not doing THAT. And I think about how horrible it was in January (I will never forget January 2012 as long as I live) when Emma was sleeping next to me and waking me up every hour, and I think, well, at least we're not doing THAT.

But even I have to admit that these random hours of wakefulness in the middle of the night, when she's just jabbering and then insistently whimpering, are taking their toll.

For example: the other night she slept till five, then Phillip gave her a bottle and she went back to sleep until seven. I don't think I even woke up at five. And that was the best day I've had in a long time. I was hardly anxious. I felt like doing my life. Today I am anxious again, tired, wearing pajama pants.

Then again, it could be the rain.

The, ah, Anxiety Management Plan appeared, at first, to be an improvement, but things un-improved a few days later. So I don't know. A nurse called me today and I'm glad I didn't catch it in time because I still don't really know what to say.

Today I was thinking that maybe I could have a perspective where I viewed anxiety as a physical ailment (in some ways it is, actually, if you ask the muscles between my shoulder blades). So there are people who walk around with chronic pain or fatigue or long-term conditions that they just have to manage and they take medicine for it and there's no shame in that and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't and they have to go back to their doctors and regroup. I want to think that way. It seems like the doctors look at it that way. But then there's the part where I don't have a good reason or any genetic history and they don't know my whole story and I don't need medicine for arthritis, I need medicine for fear.

Blargh. That makes me sound like I'm holed up in my dark little house, swathed in black, neglecting my children and ignoring my duties. No, I'm just not as together as I feel I should be. As I want to be.

I think sleep would help.

I continue to be grateful for good friends and the wonderful distraction and support they provide. I always think about how hard I prayed for friends when I was a miserable lonely fifteen-year-old and how God has blessed me a gazillion times over as an adult. And today I was even thinking about the Blathering, which is what - six months out? Something like that. And not even about how it's just a fun weekend with people you've always wanted to hang out with in person and gee I'm really looking forward to it, but how it's (for me, anyway) some hard core quality time with meaningful, important, longtime, real life friends who unfortunately live so far away.

Phillip was just in here saying, "We'll see how tonight goes!" We are, at least, foolishly hopeful every night.

Things I Have Bought And Things I Might Have Bought If I Had A Money Tree In My Backyard Instead Of An Enormous and Terrible Lavender Bush

2012-05-20T20:04:34-07:00

I did some shopping today. I picked up a few things.

These shoes:

Target sandals (also in blue and orange), $20. This was definitely a case of going to Target for formula and diapers and coming home with shoes and notecards and brownie mix. But I will definitely wear these. I wanted blue, but 1) they didn't have blue in my size and 2) I HAVE blue sandals already and 3) perhaps I should Branch Out.

Note: I attempted branching out in Yellow, having purchased two suitable bridesmaid dresses from J.Crew. My favorite was this one:

J.Crew Ramona dress in bright lemon, on sale for $180.

But I tried it on for my mom and she liked the dress but hated the color and also how much I paid and I was all BUT THIS IS THE DRESS and she was all OKAY FINE and then a few days later I got a voicemail saying that she and my sister decided I should return it and just wear the green dress I bought back before I knew it was supposed to be a LIME green dress. It looks like this:

Calvin Klein square neck pleated dress, clearly not in green, $99.99 on the website but $40 at TJ Maxx where I found mine, in emerald green.

Actually, I KNEW emerald green was probably not the right green, but it was only $40 and I loved it and decided it would be my Goal Dress. That was 5 pounds ago and I could stand to lose another 5, so, GOAL: lose at least 5 more pounds by my sister's wedding in July! MUST FIT INTO DRESS!

Also, I really like those shoes the model is wearing, except I want mine in hot pink. Green dress, hot pink shoes. YES.

When I returned my yellow dresses today I finally saw that bubble statement necklace that people keep Twittering about.

J.Crew bubble necklace in turquoise, one hundred fifty dolla omg

Now. I thought this necklace, when I saw it in links online, was super cute, terribly overpriced, but no matter, it's cheap on eBay! EXCEPT. Then I saw it in person and HOLY HECK that thing is monstrous. It hangs down WELL into one's cleavage and you guys, I have spent my whole life attempting to DETRACT attention from that area. So. No bubble necklace for me. Sheesh.

I ended up buying a black dress on final sale from Banana Republic, nowhere to be found online. I'm not sure where or when I'll wear it, but it's a conservative and modest yet stylish LBD, with cap sleeves and a belt and pleating on the bodice and it was only $24 and it just seemed like the type of thing you should have in your closet. I was worried that it made me look like a flight attendant, but my friend scoffed at the idea and also, $24. Done.

I wanted to buy fancy hair stuff at Aveda and fancy face stuff at Kiehl's, but... SIGH.

I took a picture of shoes I liked, with every intention of finding them cheaper online:

And I did. But I haven't bought them. Maybe later. Miz Mooz Dulce mary janes in blue (again with the blue!) $99.95 at Zappos.

I hated everything at H&M. If you must know.

Now if you'll excuse me I have some brownies to make for delivery to the FPC tomorrow morning. (I used to be SUPER SNOBBY about making my own brownies from scratch, but then I tasted a Ghirardelli brownie and then I found out it was from a BOX and I do not make brownies from scratch anymore. Let us all bow down before Ghirardelli.)

Wherein I make the arrival of Baby FPC all about me (and you are unsurprised)

2012-05-17T18:49:38-07:00

OMG THIS DAY.

I didn't sleep at all. My sister was in the hospital! Having a stressful labor! OMG! It turns out I am one of those people who MUST KNOW EVERYTHING and EXACTLY WHEN IT HAPPENS and HOW COME THEY WERE NOT TEXTING ME EVERY TEN MINUTES???? Dude, you guys, some people do not tweet through labor! I KNOW!

When I finally fell asleep after feeding Emma at 5:30 this morning, I OVERSLEPT. This was SO not okay because! I had extra responsibilities! Jack, who does not normally go to school on Thursdays, was going on a field trip today. And my step-niece was staying overnight while the FPC and my BIL were at the hospital. I had to get her to school by 8, Jack to school by 8:15 and I woke up at 7:33. AND I wasted an entire two minutes feeling sorry for myself for not sleeping LONGER. Because everyone else was sleeping too! OMG!

People, we were in the car and zooming to school by 7:49. How much ass do I kick? Sure, no one ate breakfast and a very sleepy Jack had a huge booger in his nose and I dressed him in fleece pants even though it was going to be something like 70 degrees BUT WHATEVER WE MADE IT TO SCHOOL ON TIME.

(I was a bit of a wreck.)

Two seconds after we get home I realize I've missed a call from my BIL. So obvs I call back ASAP and he goes "The baby's here!" and I go "WAHOO!" Also, maybe I cried a little bit. Shut up.

I immediately started making scones. Weird, BUT. Each time the FPC has visited me in the hospital after a baby she brought, what else, baked goods. Fabulous delicious best-things-I've-ever-tasted baked goods. I was NOT going to show up at that hospital room without a sufficient load of carbs. At the same time I was feeding Emma, getting Molly dressed, getting myself dressed, half unpacking, and putting Emma down for a nap. Head=spinning.

This doesn't feel as crazy to me, now that I'm writing it, but this morning I felt like I was on drugs. OH WAIT I AM ON DRUGS. But the opposite kind of drugs, where you're super ramped up and extra alert and ON A MISSION!

You should have seen me careening through Target, baby in the front of the cart, 3-year-old in the back, throwing in snacks and nursing bras and the tiniest pajamas I could find (Baby FPC is five tiny pounds) and also a present for my niece because GET THIS today is her birthday too! OMG THIS DAY!!!

Then Molly and Emma and I made it to the hospital and SNIFF! I am an aunt! Actually, I've been an aunt longer than I've been a parent, but this is my SISTER'S baby and she lives TEN MINUTES AWAY and Baby FPC and Emma have a pre-arranged best friendship and SNIFF!

I am not allowed to post pictures so DON'T ASK. Well, I might have to sneak one someday because the difference in size between Petite Baby FPC and Moose Baby EJ is hilarious. No one tell my sister.

AAAAANYWAY, the rest of the day was a bit calmer. My parents took breathers at my house between hospital visits, and that was fun for Jack and Molly. I also had a giant "Here are all the things I learned from my giant Hitler book" conversation with my dad, because I enjoy pretending he is my personal history professor. I guess he kind of IS. And then my mom and I went back to visit the FPC again. Then Phillip came home with flowers and doughnuts to bring the FPC later tonight because that's the kind of great and thoughtful BIL he is. And now I have to REALLY unpack and do some laundry and clean up my disaster of a kitchen and oh yeah, go grocery shopping because there is NOTHING to eat in this house.

But I am thinking it would be nice to go back to Fake Venice and take a long nap.

Where I brought a BABY to a BAR

2012-05-16T19:32:04-07:00

HOLA INTERNET! Did you miss me? I've been very busy. Very busy NAPPING.

I went to Venice!

Well, Fake Venice, where the canals are chlorinated and the signs all point the right way and there is no St. Mark's in St. Mark's Square and there are heaps of tourists who aren't wearing enough clothing.

Well, I suppose that last one is true of Real Venice too.

So, I know perfectly well that I'm supposed to hate Las Vegas or at least feel prudishly superior to it, but I can't. I love it so. The corrupted Disney-ness of the entire place just fills me with glee. I could seriously wander around inside those cavernous Houses of Sin with the fake blue sky and luxury shops for hours - in fact, that is exactly what I did. My 48-hour vacation basically took place in my hotel and the sidewalk in front of my hotel.

There ARE other ridiculous hotels and casinos to visit on the Strip and ordinarily I would have dragged Phillip to every one (the sky! I LOVE THE PAINTED SKY!), but I had a somewhat rigorous napping schedule.

It's her fault.

But really, there is not a more perfect baby than that one right there. She was a dream. A chubby ball of joy. AN ANGEL. This kid easily fell asleep in her father's arms mere minutes before our flight took off, slept the entire way, then took another nap when we reached the hotel, waking just in time for an evening stroll about the [crazy huge] premises. Then she proceeded to charm the socks off all of Las Vegas. Quite possibly my favorite part of the trip was all the "She is SO ADORABLE!" comments I got from everyone from hotel staff to the random dude in the elevator. Am I bragging? Well, I don't do it that often, so whatever, MY BABY IS THE CUTEST I AM TOTALLY BUYING HER A PONY.

Honestly though, she was SO EASY. She slept super duper crappy at night, but she sleeps super duper crappy at night when we're home, too. But during the day she was a breeze. She went down so easy for her naps, was always happy to hang out in the stroller, didn't mind the outdoor furnace or the frigid inside AC or the arid desert air that was slowly killing her mother's will to live. (I'm a Pacific Northwesterner. I am basically made of mold.)

There was a lot of napping, a lot of exploring the Venetian and the Palazzo - by the way, we stayed in the Palazzo, in a [crazy amazing] room that looked identical to the pictures of the rooms on the Venetian website. I spent a stupid amount of time trying to figure out if they were separate entities or what. Ashley, who is a Las Vegas NATIVE, who took herself and her three small children to the Strip just to hang out with ME (SHE IS CRAZY) informed me that basically two people own everything on the Strip so it really doesn't matter if it's separate or not. Point taken.

Also, Ashley was so awesome to come hang out with me while Phillip was working and I continue to have a 100% success rate on Internet People, Fantabulousness Of - except for the part where her terribly cute identical twin girls and baby boy with baby angel halo hair totally stole EJ's limelight.

You can see why. I DIED OF CUTE.

Phillip was giving presentations all afternoon on Wednesday (WORKING! IN VEGAS!) (Actually, I have all these THOUGHTS about corporate conferences and events in places like LAS VEGAS) so there was more napping. We did make it to the pool one time - EJ was very suspicious of that situation. But there was a lot of hanging out on the brown velvet sectional (!) in our room:

WORKING? WHATEVS.

Oh, I suppose I should mention that I probably gained one pound per hour and I should probably go to therapy for something I've decided to call Vacation Gluttony. It starts at the airport, when you think: I have to get on AIRPLANE, and that SUCKS, so I should probably buy myself a treat. And continues at the hotel, where you think: When will I get to go out to dinner and order dessert in such a fun place again! Or: This is going to be a long nap - I better get a snack. Or: I ate a chocolate bar for breakfast, so I might as well eat my weight in pastries for lunch, yes?

This is a SERIOUS PROBLEM. I've decided to solve it by 1) not wearing pants for the next month and 2) going off carbs. FOR REALZ THIS TIME FTLOG.

The baby was a bit fussier on the ride home, which was unfortunate as I was sitting next to a Prim Older Woman who, upon seeing that her seatmates brought a baby, did not bother to hide her Utter Self-Pity at her Utter Unfortunate Circumstances. Which, okay. FINE. I might be a little nervous about sitting next to a baby on an airplane too. BUT I WOULD NOT SHOW IT!!! I might even act overly sympathetic or interested in the baby or anything to show the parents that I was On Their Side because NEWSFLASH: the parents do not want a crying baby either! Possibly one of the parents needed an extra dose of anxiety medication for this exact potential scenario!

Emma did cry a teeny bit, two different times, but not very loud and not very long and I made extra sure not to unnecessarily bother the woman next to me and she was STILL A PILL. And when we were getting off the plane she picked up Emma's sweatshirt, which I hadn't noticed I'd dropped, and wordlessly flung it into my lap.

Phillip thinks I am oversensitive. Please see the above photo for what I think of that.

Okay I have a LOT to say about a LOT of things, but this is what I will say for now and I missed you and I hope this wasn't the most boring vacation blog post on earth and I tried to post pictures for just that reason even though they are PHONE pictures and not even of the Instagram variety so therefore TOTALLY INFERIOR PICTURES but I tried! We'll chat later! Bye! (NO MORE CARBS! I MEAN IT!)

Birthday eve

2012-05-09T20:36:13-07:00

I had an attack of virtuosity tonight, so I put on my running clothes and found my Kindle beneath the couch cushions (running requires an episode of Felicity, natch), but then Emma woke up. And I had to heat up a bottle and put her back to sleep and NOW I have lost my mojo. Blast.

But didn't everyone see the article going around today about why Americans are so fat? Forget about exercise, just stop eating sugar! I did, at one point, lose 30 pounds without doing one odious minute of exercise. Personal experience does back up every word of that article. I guess right now I'm finding it easier to exercise than give up chocolate chips. Double blast.

Tomorrow I'll have a five-year-old. I thought about doing a weepy Dear Beloved Boy post, but eh. Maybe tomorrow. When I can include pictures from his birthday dinner at... MCDONALDS. Hey! That's what he wants!

He had cupcakes at preschool today. Tomorrow, for his Actual Birthday, we'll go out for dinner (HE PICKED MCDONALDS) and give him his present (a bike). Friday night we'll have a party. That is a LOT of birthday for someone who is only five years old, don't you think? I might be jealous.

He's too big for his old bike, so we got him a bigger one, and the plan is to secretly spray paint his old bike pink and give it to Molly. Molly actually HAS her own bike - a pink and pricey balance bike over which I agonized and asked many questions via Twitter - but she won't ride it. AT ALL. I think this is partly to do with being a little bit scared, but mostly because the balance bike doesn't have pedals. Which is the entire point, right? And all my friends with kids who have balance bikes just RAAAAVE about them. But for Molly, it doesn't have pedals like JACK'S bike, therefore her own bike is persona non grata. SO. ANNOYING.

No way am I going to buy her a new one. Even if I wanted to give her one for her birthday, her birthday isn't until the end of the summer when there is no more opportunity for a Seattle child to RIDE a bike. So I'm just going to paint the old one and hand it over and DONE. And if she doesn't want to ride THAT? Whatever. She can stay in and watch Felicity with her mom.

I know I've been pretty angsty and woe-is-me lately, but I have to say, my kids have been pretty awesome. I mean, there is just as much fighting and sobbing and snack demanding as always, but they've also been really fun. Today they even convinced me to stop weeding and toss a whiffle ball so they could hilariously miss with the bat. (Hilarious until Jack pegged me in the thigh. I have a bruise. LAME.) While I made dinner they sat on the couch in their respective princess dresses poring over Jack's I Can Read book about Transformers. (Take a crack at that, gender studies students!) (Someone is a TINY bit proud of his son's newfound interest in Optimus Prime.) (He doesn't know about reading-it-while-wearing-a-dress.)

Okay, I have to go help put a bike together. And print out wedding invitations. And throw away the chocolate chips.

OMG I AM STILL TALKING ABOUT THIS

2012-05-07T18:38:25-07:00

When I tell stories, which is not often because I'm terrible at telling stories, I tend to give entirely too much back story. I'm so afraid you won't UNDERSTAND my story, you see, so I start at the beginning, but then I realize the beginning is actually even farther back, oh wait I'll have to clarify THIS point and THAT point, well, maybe I should just start at the very beginning...

In the car on the way to my doctor appointment I resolved not to do this. It would be unnecessary. It wouldn't make a difference. It certainly wouldn't endear me to my doctor. I could just see myself: the chatterboxy patient sufferering from made up melodrama and anxiety of her own making. Better to stick to the facts - the most recent ones. Keep it business-like.

My doctor was fine. Very doctory. I wasn't looking for empathy, but she typed notes the entire time I told my not-the-whole-story, and she did her typing on the loudest keyboard on earth. I was talking over the TAP TAP TAPPITY TAP TAP and it was jarring and uncomfortable. Especially when I would say, "No, I'm not worried about anything, it's not about anything, I know that sounds weird, I know it doesn't make sense" and she wouldn't respond, because she was typing, but I felt like she just didn't believe me.

I wanted to make sense. I wanted her to trust that I knew what I was talking about. Do not start at the beginning, I told myself. Resist the need to make everyone understand.

I've decided that if I'm going to have Questionable Mental Health, I might as well reap some of the benefits, ie: not having to make sense. Also: an unkempt appearance, strange hours, an artistic bent, an assumption that you are "just that way". I will never ever forget my dad telling me, after I'd unloaded all this wackjobbiness on my parents, that "all creative people are a bit crazy". I mean, I definitely like the idea of having a "creative" persona and if this anxiety crapola strengthens the effect, why not?

The doctor came up with a plan, which I do not have any strong feelings about one way or the other. And I won't detail here mainly because I don't feel detached enough to read what anyone thinks about it. Thanks, though, for all the kind words you've left so far. They've meant more than I can really say right now.

In the Additional Positive News department, I've been running a bit farther, a bit faster, and a bit longer these last few days and today I saw a new number on the scale. Nothing too exciting, but I've been trying to bust through to that number for a month now. I'm sure my chocolate chip habit will take care of THAT, but I was pretty pleased this morning.

Also, my sister the FPC is going to make Jack's dinosaur birthday cake. I'll have you know that I had NO INTENTION of asking my nine months pregnant sister to lift a finger for Jack's birthday, but apparently she is BORED and WANTS to make his cake. FINE BY ME. (It will be a VOLCANO with little plastic dinosaurs hanging out around it. I will call it "Extinction!")

I am in possession of an airplane ticket to Las Vegas and a two-night stay at the Venetian, courtesy of my husband's workplace. Will you be in town May 14-16? Clearly you should think about it.

I love my new haircut. That looks probably exactly like my old haircut to everyone else, but WHATEVER, all that shaggyness in the back is gone and YAY.

Phillip did practically all of the Emma work yesterday and when it was over and the kids were in bed I realized just how much of a break it had been. I told him so and he said, "I didn't know you needed that" and I said, "I didn't either."

I will try very hard to think of something new! and special! and way more interesting! to write about this week. I am over the anxiety angst as much as you are.

Sunday prayer

2012-05-06T17:24:20-07:00

I continue to not be fine, and at the risk of sound like A Cliche and A Bore and also Supremely Self-Indulgent, I'll continue to keep writing about it. If that's ok.

Most of the time I try to shove the anxiety into the background, act like it's not there. But sometimes when it's quiet or it's early morning or late at night or I'm alone, I'll notice it, I'll focus on it, and so often over the last two weeks or so I'll zero in on it and wonder. What's it about this time? What have I done wrong? What wrong things am I thinking? What am I afraid of? What am I worried about? These thoughts aren't anything new, they're just the ways I've identified and managed this before. But it dawned on me the last couple days that I am taking medicine to combat this. I don't have to DO anything. I don't have to put myself through the third degree, I don't have to analyze anything, I don't have to fix anything. The meds are supposed to do that for me. It's a very weird feeling of relief.

If what I believe about this is really true, that I have jacked up brain chemistry and my body overreacts to regular ole stress and I am somehow genetically physically chemically inclined towards this, then I should give myself a break and just let the medicine do its work. It's hard, though. Perhaps I am also genetically physically chemically inclined towards self-reflection, introspection, wondering where I went wrong.

I was weeding my front yard today - it's taken me several weekends, but I think I've conquered it - and it felt really good. Hard work with instant results. It's easier to shove the anxiety aside when you're working. But of course I was thinking - I'm always thinking - and I just had this feeling (thought? picture? idea?) that Jesus was sad for me. Sort of in the same way my friends are sorry for me, although where they are helpless, Jesus is all powerful, all knowing.

I don't allow myself to think that way very often because, well, here is a timely example, as I am STILL not finished with my Hitler book: who should we feel sorry for? The girl with a great life with a bit of anxiety on the side, or the starving Russians or the Jews in concentration camps or the Londoners worried about bombings every night? In my version of the Pain Olympics, the goal is to lose as bad as possible. And then shame yourself for thinking your life is even a TINY bit hard.

But while I was weeding I DID feel that Jesus was sad for me. Or maybe, more like he didn't want this for me. It doesn't really change anything, but this feeling (thought? picture? idea?) was encouraging to me. Strengthening, even. This is not who I am. This is not who I'm supposed to be. I am separate from this.

Those of you who follow Anne Lamott on Twitter might have noticed her special brand of humbled, hippie, broken Christianity. I followed her because her encouragement on writing is like none other, but I find it's her encouragement about faith and eternal life that is really sinking into me. As I was weeding, another thought: life is eternal; anxiety is not.

Simplistic? Hokey? It feels real to me, though. Anxiety is not me, it will not follow me, it has no place in heaven.

I have a doctor appointment tomorrow. I am totally confused and bewildered as to why these meds aren't working. I don't have a lot of faith in some random doctor figuring me out after ten minutes in an exam room, but I have prayed about it and I have faith in my pharmacist friend who promises me that something will work and maybe I just need to increase my dose and I don't have a lot of options anyway, right?

If anything, anxiety sharpens my mind and points me towards God. Always. So much so that I've wondered why he allows me those months and years of feeling better. I think, maybe, because anxiety is not me, and because God is good.

Things should be fine

2012-05-02T17:05:44-07:00

When my family moved back to Italy in 1994, when I was fifteen years old, two things stick out: my desperate unhappiness and my burning inner vow to hide my desperate unhappiness. Even at age fifteen I was enough of a decent human being to realize I wasn't the only one in my family having a rough time with this move, and I didn't want to add Teenage Drama to my parents' trials. But mostly I was prideful and stubborn and totally humiliated. I didn't know this friendless girl who shrank from other students in the halls, who wandered the base alone during lunchtime praying that the hour would be over as quick as possible. I didn't want to be her. I wasn't sure how I had become her. I didn't want anyone to know.

It was a super long time before I realized that I did this - pretending everything was fine when things were very much not fine. I would do it with big things and little things. I remember sharing something difficult with Phillip in college where he said, "Oh! You're human!", and this was after something like a YEAR of dating. And then when I started struggling with anxiety it was definitely a factor. As in I was so good at pretending things were fine that I didn't know they weren't fine. HOW DUMB IS THAT.

So I have worked on this. Really. Big time. I try hard to be honest about what's going on here, on the blog, even though I sometimes feel stupid/dorky/people who know me in real life would roll their eyes/it's THE INTERNET/etc. about it, because I feel like writing stuff out is good for me and also my favorite blogs are the ones that are honest. I try hard to be honest in real life too, though that's harder, and I often don't do well. Back in January when I was so sleep deprived and miserable, I made one of my best friends feel terrible because here I was feeling so isolated and she'd had no idea. And shoot, it wasn't her fault. *I* was the one isolating myself!

But here I am again, Not Doing Well, and I'm trying to be honest about it, but it's hard. For one thing, I don't understand WHY I'm not doing well. Isn't everything going as well as it possibly can right now? Half the time Emma is even sleeping through the night. I'm going WITH Phillip on his next business trip, where there will be sunshine and we will stay at the Venetian! The weather is getting better, we have fun things planned this month, I'm having a great time with my kids, my husband just talked to me about Mother's Day plans because he wants me to have a good one, and there are one or two unbloggable but good and hopeful things going on in the background. I don't understand why I've been feeling like I'm just surviving.

I have one other friend with 3 kids and she was here the other day talking about how SHE is just surviving, so that did make me feel better. I am still unclear on why 3 kids feels so hard, but I feel it and she does too. I am still inexplicably anxious and worried that the pills aren't going to work this time, so that's definitely a factor. And a lot of the good stuff going on is stuff I have to plan and organize and orchestrate and I am not clear why THIS is stressing me out either, as I'm usually all over organizing stuff, but I recognize that this is a factor too.

I am trying to acknowledge, I am trying to identify, I am trying to not ignore and not pretend and all that good I Have Grown As A Person stuff. But I don't know why I feel like this, so I haven't been talking about it. And when I do, I just feel stupid. Shouldn't everything be fine?

Maybe it's... Emma is getting more demanding, wanting more attention. I feel worn out by the time Phillip gets home, like I have nothing left over for him. Molly's preschool next year is going to cost more than I realized and I feel irresponsible about that, worried it's too much. Tagging along on this business trip to Vegas isn't in the budget either. There are days when I feel like all I do is tell Jack to stop stop stop, sit in the corner, stop stop. (Also days where he's awesome.) Preschool drop off and pick up is hard, and that's with only one kid's schedule, and only three times a week - how crazy will it be next year? The kids all have colds. I'm wanting to nap in the afternoons again, which is never a good sign. I feel like I can't keep up with the internet. I feel like this blog sucks. I feel bad that I haven't caught up with a handful of people I was trying to get to know better, both online and off. I have all these packages to send, but every time I look at them I think of something else to do. For some reason I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at fashion blogs and escaping into online window shopping. Jack has his spring concert tonight and all I can think about is how I'll just be sitting there anxious the whole time, wishing for it to be over.

Maybe it's just LIFE.

Wine for dinner anyone?