I have always thought it important to have both dreams and goals. For much of my life, that was difficult to articulate: I am one for who most of those dreams have always been a little hazy and insubstantial…with a few exceptions:
I woke this morning before 5am, as is becoming normal for me. I went into the bathroom, starting to get ready to take a shower and I realized my iPhone was at 1% of battery life. Instantly panicked (as anyone as phone-dependent as I am quickly becomes at this status) I brought my phone over to the outlet in the bedroom and plugged it in. I started checking my email, etc. and the next thing I knew, ended up working on a blog post for www.mischiefofminions.com (my other blog, more kiddie-focused: feel free to check it out!).
My husband discovered me still there when he woke up 40 minutes later.
“Um – whatcha doing?” he asked.
I may have mentioned before that I am fat. It’s not much of a secret. I don’t like to use that term, hate it in fact, but it is a medical reality. And I am struggling once again in attempt to fight it.
My inspiration is simple: I don’t want to be this big. I hate it. I sometimes hate me because of it. And that is not a good example to be setting for my kids.
When I went to a doctor recently because I seem to struggle with losing weight – even when I eat the right things, I was put through a battery of tests that basically said there isn’t a darn thing wrong with me. The dietician looked at food logs I presented, then back at me, perplexed.
I may have mentioned previously that I am not a skinny gal. It’s a battle I continue to fight: at times my efforts are pretty hardcore.
Like now, for instance.
A working mom’s best friends are sometimes drive-thru windows and at least partially pre-packaged meals at least once or twice a week.
Not an option. I have a very limited diet and need to prepare my own meals. It sucks.
What becomes harder? Walking into the house and preparing a meal that will feed me and making additional options for everyone else…far tastier options.
It’s not just the cooking. It’s the dang dishes and the clean-up. It is a giant pain in the hooey.
What I need is a personal chef and housekeeper. For that matter, a personal trainer would not run amiss.
But if I had those things, I also probably wouldn’t need to work the hours I do, etc., etc.
Ah well. Night 3 of home-cooking included cooked cabbage. Not the tastiest item, especially without lots of butter and salt. My family’s option included pasta, which I can’t have.
I’m not bitter, not really. I ignored my daughter’s comments about my soggy lettuce. I tried not to smell the delicious carbs. I ignored my husband’s pitying look. I am eating what I should and hopefully it will lead to better things.
That said? The lovely cabbage smell? The kind of smell that sneaks up on you in hallways of random apartment buildings?
Yeah, they won’t be running away from that anytime soon.
Today, for a training class, I found myself back on a commuter train, going into the city with the other thousands of public transportation takers into the city.
And you know what? I found I’d missed it a little.
Usually my commute via car is about 45 minutes. Typically this time is used for making appointments, coordinating the pickup of children, the occasional touch base with sisters or friends and avoiding traffic bottlenecks.
I got to close my eyes!! And they have apparently instituted quiet cars during rush hour! I could have wept with joy.
And on the way home? I did the same thing!
I am not saying I want to return to my city commute: it’s too far from my kids should I need to get home in a pinch. But for one day?
I admit it: I don’t watch much in the way of news. I don’t seek it out without specific intention: not only do I not have the time, but also it gets in the way of my DVR programming, which is already greatly reduced by the amount of children’s programming that seems to find its way onto one tv (or iPhone or iPad or Kindle) or another.
I manage to tune out much of the celebrity gossip, reality tv in most of its incarnations and the latest political propaganda.
I admit it: I even avoid much of the Olympic coverage. There is some shame there, but had I known previously that the Trampoline was in fact an actual event, it might have been a different story.
But the proliferation of poorly-spelled poultry -laden nonsense has been a little insane. I am not saying I don’t see there are some topics within that mess that people want to talk about.
I just think that a moral platform, regardless of your beliefs, built on a foundation of chicken grease, public ignorance and highly processed animal goo tends to have a level of ridicule accompanying it… not to mention gas…in which whatever actual communication may be in there drowns.
Serving up your hate on a bun makes it no more palatable, and it is insulting to the poor chickens.
I would honestly rather watch Sesame Street.
There are many ways in which my life has changed while trying to balance a family, kids, and a career. I now find myself:
- Listening to books a la .mp3 while commuting since keeping my eyes open with a real book seems impossible;
- Writing blog entries on my cell phone mornings at two a.m. while waiting for my small son to fall back asleep;
- Watching the first 10 minutes of one television show on the DVR over a three evening period because I keep falling asleep before the 11th;
- Sneaking into my children’s rooms to watch them sleep because I get such little time with them during the day (and occasionally waking up in their rooms);
- Catching up on the lives of my family via Facebook since so rarely are we able to even speak on the phone at the same times;
- Not having any kind of consistent social life outside of the minions;
- Getting little quality time (read: any time) spent on hair, makeup, or general beautification unless I am willing to get up at 3am (sorry world);
- An almost constant craving for Sleep, Sleep, Sleep (Um, have I mentioned sleep?) has supplanted almost all other desires.
And honestly? I am so grateful for the two little Berserkers I have that as long as they remain decently clothed, fed, and (reasonably) happy, nothing else matters. There is nothing I am unwilling to do in that pursuit, no job I would not undertake, and I am sure that is true of you too.
Do you ever go through those times where you don’t have the right words? Or even if you do have the right words, you don’t want to use them?
I’m experiencing something like that. It is odd, I suppose, and contradictory, to be writing about being out of words, but that’s how I have felt the past few days.
I don’t really want to talk about my feelings, my day, or my life to another person. It’s not that nothing is happening in my little world, I just find I presently lack commentary.
I don’t know if it is a conservation of energy, or soul, or just a desire for some kind of true silence, but right now I am feeling like the well is a bit dry. There is a kind of pain to that kind of withdrawal, and it hurts, but I think maybe sometimes we all just need to find a cave and chill, absent of the stress, and the people, and the obligations, and the struggles… and maybe even the words.
I feel a bit guilty about this, even though I mean no harm or offense to my loved ones. My normal desire to update my family and friends on things, my typical smart-assery, and my need to translate my head into verbiage just seems like it has shut down temporarily. The only exception to this seems my children: they are getting what words I do have, but even with them I think I am doing more watching and listening and (perhaps even a bit more than usual) cuddling.
I also haven’t stopped taking pictures, and still find myself pulling out my iPhone constantly to snap a shot. I thought that since I am lacking in one department, I would share some of my last few days and thoughts in pictures instead: sharing a little of what I have instead of what I feel, at least temporarily, I have not. Maybe it isn’t such a terrible thing when we occasionally shut our mouth and spend some time observing instead?
Do you ever find that you get this way? Like you’ve lost your words?