What is it? What is it about that when you get a little older sleep doesn't come as easily, or even if you do get it, you still feel as if you hadn't any. For the last two or three days I have been so lacking of energy, felt like a zombie, and have wanted to do nothing but sit in a chair. Even when I do move, on top of feeling tired, my body hurts, my feet hurt...blah, blah, blah, whine, whine, whine.
Yesterday I talked to an acquaintance of mine and happened to ask...have you felt different the last couple of days, and I got a resounding yes as a response; so maybe it is the lack of sun, a change in the air pressure or something like that.
All I know is that I hate it, because summer just is so short and it is already July. I have a ton of house projects I want to get finished. I have house guests coming in just a few days, so that will motivate me to at least have things neat and cleaning looking (even if I know there are drawers and closets stuffed full). Following that we are heading to Florida for a week. After that I'll have to start getting ready to go back to school. Unbelievable. And I say this every year. It's just the way it is, and I have no control over the way it feels. Wish I did.
So I guess I'll go take a vitamin or something and stop whining. At least Ed took the dogs out this morning and the sun is shining. He's playing golf, so I can work on the things on my agenda, not his (and that's another story).
Friday, July 3, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Discoveries
I never stop learning new things about my children. Here are just a few. I can add more to the list later I'm sure.
One daughter nearly had another convinced she was adopted.
They used to hide behind the couch with an open container of cake frosting and spoons.
They used to pretend under the dining room table. That I knew, but I didn't know to what extent until recently when dusting the table legs I found numerous stickers on the underneath side of the table top. They are from years ago. Now you know how often I dust the table legs, or even if I do I rarely look up.
Even within the past few years, they managed to lose the location of an Easter egg. Even after the rotten smell reached its peak, I had trouble finding the source. Eventually I found an egg, dried up and past being odorous inside the chandelier hanging in the dining room.
On occasion one would decide to run away from home, pack a suitcase and head down to street with the intention of going to Mammaw's house (who lives much further than walking distance). I'd just let her head out (with a watchful eye). She came back because she was hungry.
I'm sure I'll continue discovering things and adding to this list.
One daughter nearly had another convinced she was adopted.
They used to hide behind the couch with an open container of cake frosting and spoons.
They used to pretend under the dining room table. That I knew, but I didn't know to what extent until recently when dusting the table legs I found numerous stickers on the underneath side of the table top. They are from years ago. Now you know how often I dust the table legs, or even if I do I rarely look up.
Even within the past few years, they managed to lose the location of an Easter egg. Even after the rotten smell reached its peak, I had trouble finding the source. Eventually I found an egg, dried up and past being odorous inside the chandelier hanging in the dining room.
On occasion one would decide to run away from home, pack a suitcase and head down to street with the intention of going to Mammaw's house (who lives much further than walking distance). I'd just let her head out (with a watchful eye). She came back because she was hungry.
I'm sure I'll continue discovering things and adding to this list.
The Paradoxicalness of Mother/Daughter Relationships
Number two daughter, number four daughter (the youngest) and I went to an R rated movie last night. There had been some discussion about whether mom would like this movie, especially by number three daughter who thought not. She I think wanted to protect my sensibilities.
I didn't really feel like going to a movie that was to start at 11 p.m. I had a bit of a headache and was tired. But being a mommy, and having been invited to a late movie by number two daughter who no longer lives at home, I wondered if perhaps she was restless and needed my company. Being the mommy I am, I agreed to go.
So I put on a half pot of coffee to get a cup in before arriving a half hour later at the theater, thinking I'd never stay awake. "Oh mom, this isn't a movie you could fall asleep to." The movie? Hangover. I laughed through the entire movie and all the way home. No worries number three daughter. I can't say I am always in the mood for that sort of movie, but my daughters have managed to include, or at least influence, their father and me to see such movies in the genre of Hangover, 40 Year Old Virgin, and Knocked Up. I can't say they are my favorite types of movies, and I can't say I'd see them without my daughters' influence, but what is the point of all this?
It's a surreal experience, a weird juxtaposition, a dichotomy. I'm not sure any word or phrase accurately describes what it feels like to view such a movie with someone I pushed out of my body and watched take the first breath of life. The same thoughts occur when we are in a bar or restaurant drinking a glass of wine with the two who are of age, or having one of them join my sister (their aunt), a former roommate of mine and me for a girls' night. While I can't really ever get past the strangeness of it, I celebrate that for now I am enthusiastically included. I'm not sure that will always be the case, and I'm flattered that they seem to enjoy my company and want me around. They talk to me about anything and everything.
When it comes to their father, it is even more strange and actually difficult for him. More often than going with the girls, Ed would see the movie with me separately at their encouragement. If they were with us, he would likely be covering his eyes or ears and not really see it. There is something inexplicably difficult for him to even be in the room with them when certain things are discussed (like women's natural body functions...the girls used to refer to it as "Aunt Martha visiting.") He'll squeeze his eyes shut, put his hands over his ears and drown out the discussion by singing loudly. But for now, I'm one of the girls, one of them, and I will bask in it for as long as it lasts.
I wonder what stage will come next; probably I'll be asked to babysit so the sisters can go out together. We aren't even close to that yet, but when it comes, I'm sure I'll enjoy that just as much.
I didn't really feel like going to a movie that was to start at 11 p.m. I had a bit of a headache and was tired. But being a mommy, and having been invited to a late movie by number two daughter who no longer lives at home, I wondered if perhaps she was restless and needed my company. Being the mommy I am, I agreed to go.
So I put on a half pot of coffee to get a cup in before arriving a half hour later at the theater, thinking I'd never stay awake. "Oh mom, this isn't a movie you could fall asleep to." The movie? Hangover. I laughed through the entire movie and all the way home. No worries number three daughter. I can't say I am always in the mood for that sort of movie, but my daughters have managed to include, or at least influence, their father and me to see such movies in the genre of Hangover, 40 Year Old Virgin, and Knocked Up. I can't say they are my favorite types of movies, and I can't say I'd see them without my daughters' influence, but what is the point of all this?
It's a surreal experience, a weird juxtaposition, a dichotomy. I'm not sure any word or phrase accurately describes what it feels like to view such a movie with someone I pushed out of my body and watched take the first breath of life. The same thoughts occur when we are in a bar or restaurant drinking a glass of wine with the two who are of age, or having one of them join my sister (their aunt), a former roommate of mine and me for a girls' night. While I can't really ever get past the strangeness of it, I celebrate that for now I am enthusiastically included. I'm not sure that will always be the case, and I'm flattered that they seem to enjoy my company and want me around. They talk to me about anything and everything.
When it comes to their father, it is even more strange and actually difficult for him. More often than going with the girls, Ed would see the movie with me separately at their encouragement. If they were with us, he would likely be covering his eyes or ears and not really see it. There is something inexplicably difficult for him to even be in the room with them when certain things are discussed (like women's natural body functions...the girls used to refer to it as "Aunt Martha visiting.") He'll squeeze his eyes shut, put his hands over his ears and drown out the discussion by singing loudly. But for now, I'm one of the girls, one of them, and I will bask in it for as long as it lasts.
I wonder what stage will come next; probably I'll be asked to babysit so the sisters can go out together. We aren't even close to that yet, but when it comes, I'm sure I'll enjoy that just as much.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
People Are Never What You Think
I just finished reading a biography of Stephen King, Haunted Heart, written by Lisa Rogak. I really only picked it up because I'm participating in my library's adult summer reading program which involves following a bingo list of various genres. It is managing to stretch me as a reader.
I was a huge fan back in the day of Carrie and The Shining, but fell away as King's novels became more gruesome and less "ghost story" to me. King is nothing like I, or my friends who were also fans, thought. We assumed he had to be a bit twisted to come up with his stories, and he sure looks that way; I discovered he has pretty much been labeled that way. After you read this biography his appearance becomes that of a gangly, goofy, and nerdy type of guy...a regular guy; he just happened to love horror films starting with the 50's classics and was writing stories for his classmates and his mother (who paid him a quarter for each one) at a very young age.
Except for the fact that his father literally went to the store to buy a pack of cigarettes and never came back, and aside from the fact that he did struggle with addiction for many years, he could live next door to you. As far as his writing goes, my inference after reading the bio is that he struggled a bit with not being as accepted into the "literary" circles as were other authors; but it seems he eventually gained that respect at least some of the time.
He was prolific no doubt, and I remember losing respect for him when he published book after book after book. Apparently, he really was just a writer whose work just naturally poured out of him. It was his process. Achieving financial success had to have been a great thing for him and thus his wife (who is also an author), and his three kids (two of whom are writers), after the life of extreme poverty he himself endured as a youngster. There were a number of times when he appeared and was paid, and gave the money right back; or published something new, only to give the proceeds to charity. He was a dad who coached his son's baseball team, and he gave the money to build a nice place for them to play in Maine where they live (part of the time).
He has a great sense of humor even in the midst of the macabre. I think that comes out in his stories...and you have to respect his story telling ability and imagination even if you don't like horror (which by the way isn't the only thing he writes). One of the funniest moments in Haunted Heart is when he is recuperating from the accident which nearly killed him; the nurses on duty were strictly told NOT to make any Misery jokes as he lay in bed waiting for his severely damaged leg to heal.
Reading about him also reminded me of my feelings about how middle Americans aren't really heard (previous post). He was someone who protested the Vietnam War which at the time was a rebelious thing to do, yet all along he has had rather conservative values in some ways. His daughter is a lesbian, yet his conservative side obviously didn't interfere with his acceptance of her. He isn't one of those conservatives. One of my favorite things he said is in reference to God.
"The idea of using God as a character in Desperation was the engine that made the book go. While I don't see myself as God's stenographer, He's always been in my books. It depends on the people I'm writing about. So I thought, what if I treat God and the accoutrements of God with as much belief, awe, and detail as I have treated evil. Some people say the God stuff really turns them off, but these guys have had no problems with vampires, demons, golems, and werewolves in the past. I've always believed in God. I also think that the capacity to believe is the sort of thing that either comes as part of your equipment, or at some point in your life when you're in a position where you actually need help from a power greater than yourself, you simply make an agreement to believe in God because it will make your life easier and richer to believe than not to believe. So I choose to believe."
I'm now inspired to go back and try many (and there is a lot) of the things I've missed from him, as well as try some of the things his wife and sons have also produced.
http://www.stephenking.com/index.html
I was a huge fan back in the day of Carrie and The Shining, but fell away as King's novels became more gruesome and less "ghost story" to me. King is nothing like I, or my friends who were also fans, thought. We assumed he had to be a bit twisted to come up with his stories, and he sure looks that way; I discovered he has pretty much been labeled that way. After you read this biography his appearance becomes that of a gangly, goofy, and nerdy type of guy...a regular guy; he just happened to love horror films starting with the 50's classics and was writing stories for his classmates and his mother (who paid him a quarter for each one) at a very young age.
Except for the fact that his father literally went to the store to buy a pack of cigarettes and never came back, and aside from the fact that he did struggle with addiction for many years, he could live next door to you. As far as his writing goes, my inference after reading the bio is that he struggled a bit with not being as accepted into the "literary" circles as were other authors; but it seems he eventually gained that respect at least some of the time.
He was prolific no doubt, and I remember losing respect for him when he published book after book after book. Apparently, he really was just a writer whose work just naturally poured out of him. It was his process. Achieving financial success had to have been a great thing for him and thus his wife (who is also an author), and his three kids (two of whom are writers), after the life of extreme poverty he himself endured as a youngster. There were a number of times when he appeared and was paid, and gave the money right back; or published something new, only to give the proceeds to charity. He was a dad who coached his son's baseball team, and he gave the money to build a nice place for them to play in Maine where they live (part of the time).
He has a great sense of humor even in the midst of the macabre. I think that comes out in his stories...and you have to respect his story telling ability and imagination even if you don't like horror (which by the way isn't the only thing he writes). One of the funniest moments in Haunted Heart is when he is recuperating from the accident which nearly killed him; the nurses on duty were strictly told NOT to make any Misery jokes as he lay in bed waiting for his severely damaged leg to heal.
Reading about him also reminded me of my feelings about how middle Americans aren't really heard (previous post). He was someone who protested the Vietnam War which at the time was a rebelious thing to do, yet all along he has had rather conservative values in some ways. His daughter is a lesbian, yet his conservative side obviously didn't interfere with his acceptance of her. He isn't one of those conservatives. One of my favorite things he said is in reference to God.
"The idea of using God as a character in Desperation was the engine that made the book go. While I don't see myself as God's stenographer, He's always been in my books. It depends on the people I'm writing about. So I thought, what if I treat God and the accoutrements of God with as much belief, awe, and detail as I have treated evil. Some people say the God stuff really turns them off, but these guys have had no problems with vampires, demons, golems, and werewolves in the past. I've always believed in God. I also think that the capacity to believe is the sort of thing that either comes as part of your equipment, or at some point in your life when you're in a position where you actually need help from a power greater than yourself, you simply make an agreement to believe in God because it will make your life easier and richer to believe than not to believe. So I choose to believe."
I'm now inspired to go back and try many (and there is a lot) of the things I've missed from him, as well as try some of the things his wife and sons have also produced.
http://www.stephenking.com/index.html
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