May 17, 2006

Can I Confess?

That one of the things I love most about this Staying gig, is that I can peruse the aisles of Costco with leisure and even take the time to sample ALL the food offerings?

That I HATE the Dollar store and every time Olathe Grandma tries to foist shit off on me from that place, I want to scream “You worked your ass off your entire life so that you live the Good Life. For the love of God, go to fuckingTARGET.”

That the last month has been pretty hard? A friend confessed to me recently that she had hoped her body would finally “work right” after being pregnant and giving birth to her child. I know exactly what she means. It is becoming increasingly apparent that my body is going back to its messed up normal self. I have been down lately - more like just Battling the Blues type of stuff, but it pisses me off. Logically, I think my life is pretty damned GOOD. Why am I so sad? I was hoping that the DC/VA trip would lurch me out of this rut. Oddly, being pregnant was one of the happiest times of my life - I finally knew how it felt to be Normal and I had hoped that my body would just stay that way. I LIKED BEING HAPPY. Now that I know what it is like for NORMAL people, Battling the Blues is even harder because I’ve seen the Grass and damn straight - it IS Greener.

That my favorite Americano is the one my husband makes? While in VA, we had to do Starbucks the entire time and by the end of the trip, I was really, really craving a nice cup of espresso from our own machine at home. And to think that I complained when he had first brought the RidiculousEspresso Machine home. NOW, that professional grade machine he is lusting after is looking pretty justifiable.

That I am the worst Pet Mama ever? Last week, our kitty Pearson had a stick or dried poop or something stuck in his tail. I tried to get it out, then got distracted before I could get it out. X finally cut it last night only to discover that the tail started bleeding - apparently, that wasn’t a fucking STICK, but actually a fucking VERTEBRAE. Let me repeat that for you in the back - MY HUSBAND CUT OFF THE LAST VERTEBRAE IN OUR CAT’S TAIL. Fortunately, the vet said that is exactly what THEY would have done anyway. Just ON PURPOSE. Why quibble? So, we Watch And Wait to make sure it heals. And yes, I cried at the vet’s office. What’s it to ya?

That last weekend, I wouldn’t let Older Nephew play with my Wallace and Gromit action figures even though X totally gave me crap for it? Dammit, they AREN’T toys. They’re collectibles. Because I am COLLECTING THEM. Get it?

That I may be the literary equivalent of a Little League Mom? I got teary eyed last week when Arun started turning the pages of his books. I want him to love books as much as I do and would be BROKEN HEARTED if he doesn’t. After all, I have been carefully collecting all the Harry Potter super duper supreme editions just FOR HIM. I mean, I don’t enjoy all that magic crap. No sirree.

That I threw away over half of a perfectly good Tippin’s carrot cake today? A cake that Leavenworth Grandma had brought on Monday. I don’t LIKE carrot cake, yet found myself nibbling on it anyway. So, in the trash it had to go.

That change is always hard for me? Even a GOOD change? I was really worried about this blog design, but for once, this has been an EASY change. I love the new design and it really perked me up BlogWise.

That I am afraid my kid might be one of the Beautiful People and what hell will I do WITH THAT? I am pretty average looking (although X thinks I am HOT STUFF. What? He does!) In college, I was always the Wisecracking Sidekick to my Cute and Bubbly Friends. The thought of having a good looking son? What if he turns into one of those very guys that I despised in college? You know - the ones who thought they were God’s gift to women......Egads.

8 comments:

Monkey McWearingChaps said...

Wow, I feel like I'm kinda stalking your blog because I comment on every post but you are just too damn funny.

First, online huggles from moi to toi on the low-grade depression. I have it too and hate feeling like I have a pretty much charmed life but get into these depressive lows and then feel like "what's wrong with me, I have so much?". I think a lot more women have low-grade depression, they just don't admit it.

Don't knock yourself up for it...for the last year and a half you have given your entire body and being to housing and taking care of a human being. That's such a huge load, emotionally, physically...hormonally! I am continually amazed at how gracefully you seem to have adapted to motherhood. I'll echo Eden down-below, you have made me umpteen times less stressed about reproducing and children and I was SO not a kids person for the longest time. I hope things perk up for you soon.

Second, your kid IS going to be gorgeous. It's so obvious. Just hold fast to the thought that he'll probably go through a hideous puberty experience before emerging butterfly-like into late-teens beauty and maybe that will contribute towards a bit o' humbling. Anyway I doubt he'll be a jerkwad just because he's destined to be a future hottie, I know beautiful boys who are the sweetest human beings ever. Mainly because they had nice parents and underneath the evidence of phenomenal genes they are just big old dorks at heart. Being confident and recognising that you're adorable is cool, it makes you attractive to the opposite sex. Being a jerk is learned behavior and I'm pretty sure you'd "learn" Arun right out of it if he ever manifested any such tendencies!

Feel better,

monkey

Cagey (Kelli Oliver George) said...

Thank you for the kind thoughts. I hesitated even posting about the Beautiful People thing, because that seems odd, but seriously, I have wondered. Beautiful People have been MEAN to me in my past - I wore glasses until 8th grade, you do the math. Yes, I will kick Arun's ass if he tries to be like that if does indeed end up being a Beautiful Person.

Anonymous said...

Doesn't it make you torn? You don't want him to be one of the mean, popular kids that made you (and me) feel like crap, but one the other hand you don't want him to be the one feeling like crap. At least that's how I feel about my daughter. I want to protect her from all the nasty stuff kids inflict on each other, but have her be empathic and thoughtful. Is there a secret recipe?

Hope you feel better soon.

Cagey (Kelli Oliver George) said...

Anna - you said what I was trying to convey! Can you just start writing my blog for me? That would be much easier for me. Thanks.

Anonymous said...

Gah! I've been out of commission! Way to go, Zoot - this design is AWESOME. Love the sheep.

I will pep you up with by regaling you with gossip on Sunday. Oh, and I just had a nervous breakdown. Maybe it's our stars?

Diana said...

OK. I'm sorry, but THERE WAS A VERTIBRA STICKING OUT OF YOUR CAT'S TAIL??? WTF is is with these cat creatures? You are not a bad cat mom. Who would have thought the bit of stick was vertibral? I know exactly what you mean about the book thing. Sara adores them. Colin is fine with them but does not LURVE them. Yet. So Arun will be one of the few kids who were gorgeous, popular and yet really good people, too. I recall we had one or two where I went. (I was one of the shy, glasses-wearing nerds who knew what it was like on the other end.)

That low-grade depression stuff? Been there, too. Still go back there, sometimes. Sucks.

Jenn said...

OMG so many things. I'm a bad pet mama too. My cat's been throwing up for weeks, and I've YET to call the vet.

I'm SOOOO unhappy with the way I look after the baby...will I ever look the same? People tell me NO! *GASP*

oh and what else...oh yea...my daughter is sooo pretty....she will be sooo much prettier than I was. Maybe she'll be one of those popular girls *GASP AGAIN*

Cheryl said...

I feel you on the bad cat parent comment. I kicked the fire out of my kitten last night (I was asleep and thought the sheets were tangled), but she retaliated by waking me up by wrapping herself around my foot and biting me hard enough to draw blood through the covers.

And the book thing, I used to read at the foot of my bed using the light coming in from the crack at the bottom of the door. I even told my parents I was afraid of the dark so they would buy me a nightlight. And they were right, I ruined my eyes by straining them all those nights.

BTW, thanks for the comment.