Today, my maternal grandmother turns 90 years old. It's such a happy day for us. Mom Mom has been a constant steady in my life when things were not always as they should be. I can't say that Mom Mom did anything extraordinarily different than any other grandparent would do for their grandchildren. But for some reason, Mom Mom and I had a connection that has been there for as long as I can remember. She was, from my earliest childhood memories, unconditionally there for me. From her, I learned unconditional love.
We had so much fun together when I spent the weekend at her house that I would ask to spend the weekend at her house every week. We cooked, sewed and played games and my brother and I were spoiled rotten. But it wasn't about being spoiled (though what child wouldn't love that?). I can't accurately explain why, but there was something special about Mom Mom and me. She wasn't just my grandmother, she was a friend.
I remember one weekend, while I was watching her cook my favorite dinner, she said to me 'When you get older, you're not going to want to come spend the weekend with me anymore.' I remember telling her that I will always call to spend the weekend, that it couldn't imagine not. As I got older and started going to sleep-overs, having my own things to do with school and friends then dating; I still always found my way back to Mom Mom and Pop Pops house for the weekend.
When I went to College, it was the weekly letters from Mom Mom that kept me going. I always looked forward to walking to my mail box in Gordinier's student Post Office. There was always $2 'for gum' and some stamps; a reminder that I needed to write home and tell her all about my college experience. And when I met my husband, it was Mom Mom who knew that he was the one. As we were preparing dinner one night she told me 'when you marry Eddie, your initials will spell ASS.' I had only been dating Eddie for several months at the time, but when she knew, I knew that I had met someone special. After all, it was her approval that mattered the most.
As Mom Mom has gotten older our roles have reversed. It's my house that she's spent the weekend at. I'm the one taking care of her, helping her with tasks around the house. Now I get to cook for her and spoil her rotten. And nothing has changed in our relationship. I still know that I can talk to Mom Mom about anything. I know that above all, Mom Mom loves me unconditionally.
So as I'm getting ready to walk out the door to head to her celebratory dinner, I go remembering a conversation we had a few months ago. One day, after spending the day with Mom Mom, as Eddie and I were walking out the door, she pulled me in for a hug and said 'You two are my best friends.' And she's right. We are and I wouldn't change that for anything in the world.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Summer
It's Eddie's first full week of summer break. Normally I'd be getting calls at work reminding me that he was home while I wasn't. This year, now that I'm home too it's going to be interesting. Officially, he's been done with school for four work days and it's already been an exhausting 4 days.
The last time we had a summer together was the summer we moved to Berks County, 9 years ago. Back then we were in a condo. There was no yard to mow, no things to tinker with around the house. We pretty much hung around the house every day. To put it politely, I was more than pleased when school started up that year.
In past years, it was always an adventure during summer break. I never knew what I was coming home to. A room in the basement for the dogs, complete with ramp to the window, electrical outlets and water hook up; a house inside the room with bedding for the dogs. Or the pond in the back yard complete with fish. A completed deck almost as long as our house. How about an outdoor kitchen with a porcelain sink.
This summer, already, we're stumbling over each other's routines. Now that Eddie's dad bought a saw mill he's been itching to spend every second working to get it up and running. Oh, did I mention that on our farm and between Eddie, his dad and uncle we have pretty much anything you can think of. Need a hole dug, we've got the back-hoe to do it. There are 5 mowers of varying sizes, at least 2 working tractors and god knows what in the barn. And have I mentioned the time that he took my '87 Honda and turned it into a log splitter, wood planer and have used the parts to make various other things? But I digress. . . back to this Saw Mill.
They're not as big as you think. I thought a Saw Mill meant a huge lumbering barn with blades and gears and chains. In reality this one is small in comparison to my initial guess. But this saw is not small either. And though it eventually will take some of these lumbering trees that have fallen throughout the property and cut them into 2x4s and wood planks; it still needs a lot of work.
As I type, Eddie is welding something, I'm sure he mentioned it as he ran out the door like a kid going out to play. I could tell as the morning wore on today that he was just itching to go there and do something. And if he's not playing with big toys or building things at the house he's taking apart things in our house and turning them into something else. He can not sit still. So while I pictured a summer of us lounging around and enjoying this time together, he pictured a summer of tinkering.
So we've come to a compromise. We'll spend a day or two with my mom and grandmother helping her out around the house and taking her to appointments and other outings. But I'd also like to be able to go out and do some local exploring. Like going to the Philadelphia Zoo, The Franklin Institute, Longwood Gardens. There's so much to do around here that we take for granted. And of course, Eddie will have his tinker time too. Which will be good for me, I'll need a break from his endless supply of energy. I swear he's got a flux capacitor built into him somewhere because that much energy is just not natural.
More importantly, I think that this summer will give us the opportunity to also connect in a way that we probably lost sight of. There's no work or school lumbering over us. I'm not so completely exhausted from work or emotionally drained that I don't want to do anything. There are no projects to put together, lesson plans that have to be turned in. So we actually have Ally and Eddie time. I'm looking forward to what the next month or so will bring.
The last time we had a summer together was the summer we moved to Berks County, 9 years ago. Back then we were in a condo. There was no yard to mow, no things to tinker with around the house. We pretty much hung around the house every day. To put it politely, I was more than pleased when school started up that year.
In past years, it was always an adventure during summer break. I never knew what I was coming home to. A room in the basement for the dogs, complete with ramp to the window, electrical outlets and water hook up; a house inside the room with bedding for the dogs. Or the pond in the back yard complete with fish. A completed deck almost as long as our house. How about an outdoor kitchen with a porcelain sink.
This summer, already, we're stumbling over each other's routines. Now that Eddie's dad bought a saw mill he's been itching to spend every second working to get it up and running. Oh, did I mention that on our farm and between Eddie, his dad and uncle we have pretty much anything you can think of. Need a hole dug, we've got the back-hoe to do it. There are 5 mowers of varying sizes, at least 2 working tractors and god knows what in the barn. And have I mentioned the time that he took my '87 Honda and turned it into a log splitter, wood planer and have used the parts to make various other things? But I digress. . . back to this Saw Mill.
They're not as big as you think. I thought a Saw Mill meant a huge lumbering barn with blades and gears and chains. In reality this one is small in comparison to my initial guess. But this saw is not small either. And though it eventually will take some of these lumbering trees that have fallen throughout the property and cut them into 2x4s and wood planks; it still needs a lot of work.
As I type, Eddie is welding something, I'm sure he mentioned it as he ran out the door like a kid going out to play. I could tell as the morning wore on today that he was just itching to go there and do something. And if he's not playing with big toys or building things at the house he's taking apart things in our house and turning them into something else. He can not sit still. So while I pictured a summer of us lounging around and enjoying this time together, he pictured a summer of tinkering.
So we've come to a compromise. We'll spend a day or two with my mom and grandmother helping her out around the house and taking her to appointments and other outings. But I'd also like to be able to go out and do some local exploring. Like going to the Philadelphia Zoo, The Franklin Institute, Longwood Gardens. There's so much to do around here that we take for granted. And of course, Eddie will have his tinker time too. Which will be good for me, I'll need a break from his endless supply of energy. I swear he's got a flux capacitor built into him somewhere because that much energy is just not natural.
More importantly, I think that this summer will give us the opportunity to also connect in a way that we probably lost sight of. There's no work or school lumbering over us. I'm not so completely exhausted from work or emotionally drained that I don't want to do anything. There are no projects to put together, lesson plans that have to be turned in. So we actually have Ally and Eddie time. I'm looking forward to what the next month or so will bring.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Big Step
I did it. I wrote my dad a letter. I don't think it made sense but I said everything I needed to say. I tried to write this letter so many times before in my head. I knew exactly what I was going to say. But when it came time to put pen to paper I couldn't exactly be accurate about how I was feeling.
It was like I was 16 years old again and I just rambled in these tangents. I repeated myself a lot. But I did it. It's done and it's going in the mail tomorrow morning. Regardless of what happens, I'll know that I said what I had to. I put into words what I felt and am feeling. It was all the words I could never say in person.
So it's up to him. I told him I wanted an honest relationship going forward and I wanted to get to know him, and more than superficially. I don't want my dad to be a stranger any more. We can't change the past and we can't make it go away. All we have is now. I just hope that we can go forward and be honest with each other.
It was like I was 16 years old again and I just rambled in these tangents. I repeated myself a lot. But I did it. It's done and it's going in the mail tomorrow morning. Regardless of what happens, I'll know that I said what I had to. I put into words what I felt and am feeling. It was all the words I could never say in person.
So it's up to him. I told him I wanted an honest relationship going forward and I wanted to get to know him, and more than superficially. I don't want my dad to be a stranger any more. We can't change the past and we can't make it go away. All we have is now. I just hope that we can go forward and be honest with each other.
Monday, June 14, 2010
A Daughter's Anguish
Nobody better than me knows that Father's Day is fast approaching. More than others, this one is really bothering me. I haven't really talked to my dad since August of last year and that's a fair estimate. I know those who have lost a parent see the idiocy of my actions. But here's the thing. When your parents divorce, mainly the things that your father did before/during/after, sometimes death is easier.
My dad chose to leave. He chose to have limited contact with his two biological children and spend his time raising his step-children. When you see your father more invested in the lives of someone elses' kids when all you want is some kind of attention from him; your heart breaks in ways that you can't even begin to imagine. So yes, death would have been easier, it would not have been a choice that he made to leave us. I could grieve and know that it would get better. Rather, divorce is living death. You grieve when he's gone, you know that when you do see him you don't see your father but a stranger that looks like your dad and talks like your dad but isn't (maybe he's a zombie?).
I know that every time I see him that *I* put myself into those situations. I don't know if the reason everything is stalled when we see each other is because we're both afraid to resume life or start over. I won't deny that some of the things I did or some of the choices I made have hurt him too. I know that Dad still sees me as 16 years-old in so many ways. I can't fully explain the logic and reasoning in my head for the reasons that I'm still conflicted and in pain and why I let myself feel that way.
When he left, I was old enough to understand what was going on. My brother, on the other hand, did not. The day that he left, I made a promise to myself that I would protect my brother from what was going on. If I could deflect the pain and the shitiness of the situation; and I could help mom so that things didn't feel so lopsided that my brother would walk away relatively unscathed. I knew there would be times that I couldn't deflect the pain but if I could at least lessen what was there. Sometimes I feel like I failed him in that aspect.
I blame my dad for a lot of what we went through. I blame him for causing my mom pain by leaving, I blame him for turning our lives upside down, for hurting and letting down my brother and I blame him for walking away for reasons I still don't fully understand. And I blame him because it just doesn't go away or get better. Yes, I own some responsibility for that. And I don't know what to do to fix it.
I feel like I owe my dad an explanation for my silence. I can't fix this thing by myself. He's my father and deep down there is a biological connection that as much as I steel myself from the pain and disappointment, it never goes away. I ache to know that I am letting my father slip away. To go back to the past is always a mess. I don't think he fully understands what life was like when he was gone. What his actions, whether or not he thought would involve us, did and how they really did upend our lives and how in so many ways it still does.
I don't know where to go with this. When you deal with someone whose thoughtlessness caused so much pain, how do you go forward? I don't want to keep this living death going anymore. Walking away isn't working, it doesn't make everything better. Emotionally I can't, I'm emotionally stunted and I just don't have the energy to keep this up. I don't know how to make this relationship with my dad work so that not only I can move forward but so can my dad.
My dad chose to leave. He chose to have limited contact with his two biological children and spend his time raising his step-children. When you see your father more invested in the lives of someone elses' kids when all you want is some kind of attention from him; your heart breaks in ways that you can't even begin to imagine. So yes, death would have been easier, it would not have been a choice that he made to leave us. I could grieve and know that it would get better. Rather, divorce is living death. You grieve when he's gone, you know that when you do see him you don't see your father but a stranger that looks like your dad and talks like your dad but isn't (maybe he's a zombie?).
I know that every time I see him that *I* put myself into those situations. I don't know if the reason everything is stalled when we see each other is because we're both afraid to resume life or start over. I won't deny that some of the things I did or some of the choices I made have hurt him too. I know that Dad still sees me as 16 years-old in so many ways. I can't fully explain the logic and reasoning in my head for the reasons that I'm still conflicted and in pain and why I let myself feel that way.
When he left, I was old enough to understand what was going on. My brother, on the other hand, did not. The day that he left, I made a promise to myself that I would protect my brother from what was going on. If I could deflect the pain and the shitiness of the situation; and I could help mom so that things didn't feel so lopsided that my brother would walk away relatively unscathed. I knew there would be times that I couldn't deflect the pain but if I could at least lessen what was there. Sometimes I feel like I failed him in that aspect.
I blame my dad for a lot of what we went through. I blame him for causing my mom pain by leaving, I blame him for turning our lives upside down, for hurting and letting down my brother and I blame him for walking away for reasons I still don't fully understand. And I blame him because it just doesn't go away or get better. Yes, I own some responsibility for that. And I don't know what to do to fix it.
I feel like I owe my dad an explanation for my silence. I can't fix this thing by myself. He's my father and deep down there is a biological connection that as much as I steel myself from the pain and disappointment, it never goes away. I ache to know that I am letting my father slip away. To go back to the past is always a mess. I don't think he fully understands what life was like when he was gone. What his actions, whether or not he thought would involve us, did and how they really did upend our lives and how in so many ways it still does.
I don't know where to go with this. When you deal with someone whose thoughtlessness caused so much pain, how do you go forward? I don't want to keep this living death going anymore. Walking away isn't working, it doesn't make everything better. Emotionally I can't, I'm emotionally stunted and I just don't have the energy to keep this up. I don't know how to make this relationship with my dad work so that not only I can move forward but so can my dad.
Two Little Girls, Two Corners
I need water. And not in that normal need to survive, stay clean kind of way. I feel like I can't breathe here in all of the trees. No, no flashbacks to 'Splash', I'm not a mermaid. I just have this need to be near water and preferably in it.
You can blame my parents and by proxy Jackie's grand-parents for this little quirk of mine. Living at opposite ends of the street and corners we spent much of our young life together walking back and forth to eachoher's pools. Who could do the most laps underwater or the craziest leap were not just games - we were serious, records were meant to be won and held onto for as long as possible.
We'd run from pool to pool each day, each week our towels, rafts and pool toys ruffling behind us like soldiers gone to war. There was something about swimming to the point of exhaustion that you kept going knowing that inevitably one of our responsible adults would call us inside for something to eat. Sandwiches and chips at our house and oddly cucumbers in apple cider vinaigrette at Jackie's (of course we had ice cream too). Then it was back to business until we were called out of the pool for dinner. I particularly enjoyed the walk back home for dinner. The feeling of walking the hot pavement back and feeling the cold water of her pool evaporate off of me in that short distance that I'd have to jump into mine as soon as I got home, upsetting mom as she was expecting dry children as dinner guests.
Then there was the last swim of the evening when getting out of the water was colder than staying. Watching lightening blink around you and enjoying the solitary quiet of just you and the pool. How it felt to pull your fingers out of the water to watch it drip away and cool your hand. It was as if life and all of its' troubles were doing the same. The black sky seemed empty and yet comforting, like a blanket at night before bed that when you finally did make it to bed you felt as though you really did conquer the world. Sleep was deep and much needed and yet you woke each day ready to do the same thing again.
Somehow this was never lost on me. Places change, people move but water has always been a purifying aspect of my life. Surrounded by it the calm bold blue color is inviting. The smell of water (salt, spring, what have you) envelops you and welcomes you. You trade the pool toys and floats for real life worries and issues. That need to regain the sense of me and let everything else just float away presses on me like a weight.
Since then, it doesn't matter how much water there is, I need to be near it. In many ways it was about the friendship that grew or the miles walked (and that are still walked in dream) between the two houses letting the sun evaporate the water and the pavement warming our toes. It was also the weight of the world washing away each step, plunge or push into the pool. It was every care and worry evaporating clean out of your pores. In water you are weightless and all that mattered was not sinking to the bottom. And when all else failed you swam up for a gasp of air.
You can blame my parents and by proxy Jackie's grand-parents for this little quirk of mine. Living at opposite ends of the street and corners we spent much of our young life together walking back and forth to eachoher's pools. Who could do the most laps underwater or the craziest leap were not just games - we were serious, records were meant to be won and held onto for as long as possible.
We'd run from pool to pool each day, each week our towels, rafts and pool toys ruffling behind us like soldiers gone to war. There was something about swimming to the point of exhaustion that you kept going knowing that inevitably one of our responsible adults would call us inside for something to eat. Sandwiches and chips at our house and oddly cucumbers in apple cider vinaigrette at Jackie's (of course we had ice cream too). Then it was back to business until we were called out of the pool for dinner. I particularly enjoyed the walk back home for dinner. The feeling of walking the hot pavement back and feeling the cold water of her pool evaporate off of me in that short distance that I'd have to jump into mine as soon as I got home, upsetting mom as she was expecting dry children as dinner guests.
Then there was the last swim of the evening when getting out of the water was colder than staying. Watching lightening blink around you and enjoying the solitary quiet of just you and the pool. How it felt to pull your fingers out of the water to watch it drip away and cool your hand. It was as if life and all of its' troubles were doing the same. The black sky seemed empty and yet comforting, like a blanket at night before bed that when you finally did make it to bed you felt as though you really did conquer the world. Sleep was deep and much needed and yet you woke each day ready to do the same thing again.
Somehow this was never lost on me. Places change, people move but water has always been a purifying aspect of my life. Surrounded by it the calm bold blue color is inviting. The smell of water (salt, spring, what have you) envelops you and welcomes you. You trade the pool toys and floats for real life worries and issues. That need to regain the sense of me and let everything else just float away presses on me like a weight.
Since then, it doesn't matter how much water there is, I need to be near it. In many ways it was about the friendship that grew or the miles walked (and that are still walked in dream) between the two houses letting the sun evaporate the water and the pavement warming our toes. It was also the weight of the world washing away each step, plunge or push into the pool. It was every care and worry evaporating clean out of your pores. In water you are weightless and all that mattered was not sinking to the bottom. And when all else failed you swam up for a gasp of air.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Wild Packs of Angry Pigs
After a late-night dinner with my husband, we were pulling onto our road when he asked me if he could stock-pile some guns. The pacifist in me wants nothing to do with things that shoot projectiles and cause bodily harm to human or animal. Curious, I asked why he felt that he needed to build an arsenal when we don't have any need to have one. His reply: 'So when the wild-pig armies invade our area we can defend ourselves.'
I had no words. ME, with no words. I don't think I even breathed for a few seconds. After coming-to I asked if his sugar was low ( 1. because he was driving and 2. because he was driving) and he happily replied yup. So I asked him why he felt that we were about to be invaded by wild packs of angry pigs. His response . . . 'because they're coming.' Right.
He says all over PA there are nests of pig armies that were brought to the States from the Spanish Conquistadors and they've finally made their way to PA. I'm stumped AGAIN. Twice in one night. And not only is he NOT bullshitting me, and I know when he does, he gets this twinkle in his eyes and the corners of his mouth curl up; but he is serious. Like heart-attack serious. I don't know where he heard this. Actually, I don't know where he hears half the things he tells me. I can only imagine what he was like as a child, which scares me to death to think of what OUR children will be like.
Hopefully I can get some information out of him in the coming days about what this pigvasion is all about. All I know is I've got a stockpile of weapons to prevent. =)
I had no words. ME, with no words. I don't think I even breathed for a few seconds. After coming-to I asked if his sugar was low ( 1. because he was driving and 2. because he was driving) and he happily replied yup. So I asked him why he felt that we were about to be invaded by wild packs of angry pigs. His response . . . 'because they're coming.' Right.
He says all over PA there are nests of pig armies that were brought to the States from the Spanish Conquistadors and they've finally made their way to PA. I'm stumped AGAIN. Twice in one night. And not only is he NOT bullshitting me, and I know when he does, he gets this twinkle in his eyes and the corners of his mouth curl up; but he is serious. Like heart-attack serious. I don't know where he heard this. Actually, I don't know where he hears half the things he tells me. I can only imagine what he was like as a child, which scares me to death to think of what OUR children will be like.
Hopefully I can get some information out of him in the coming days about what this pigvasion is all about. All I know is I've got a stockpile of weapons to prevent. =)
Sunday, June 6, 2010
A Social Bee
I have had quite the busy weekend, despite a few nights of insomnia. Friday, the hubs and I had hair appointments. Poor Eddie, he was all of 15 minutes, I was a good 3. Melissa, my new stylist has been really trying to lighten my hair and subtlely so that we don't fry my hair in one sitting. From there she puts in fine hilights and then we have the lowlites that best match the base color as we level down.
This was the first time in several months that I sat back and thoroughly enjoyed my visit. We managed to be her only clients that night so we just talked about all kinds of stuff. It was very relaxing and just nice to interact with like-minded people again. Plus, we were so close to home. Before we drove over 45 minutes to get our hair done. This time we were able to go out for dinner afterwards and still get home before 9:30.
I love that the salon uses Aveda products. They're all natural, they've really gone product by product and removed as much chemical as they can. And when they find that they can make something better they make those changes too. I don't smell or feel the color on my head. My hair has never been this shiny, soft and easy to manage. My cut is wonderful. If I don't want to do anything to it, I just let it air-dry. I can scrunch it with a small bit of curl creme and I've got great waves that stay. I just feel like my hair reflects what I wanted it to look like in my head. She LISTENS to not just me but Eddie - and it's not her idea. We both pull out the color samples and hair style pictures until we've got the right one. It's wonderful. Sometimes change, even when you don't think you need it, is a good thing.
And today, despite yet another night of not sleeping, I made myself get out of bed at noon (hey, don't give me crap - I went to bed at 5am!!)We played Mini Golf . . .I won! Which let me tell you, that seldom happens. I am the queen of 6s and up! I felt great afterwards so we walked around The Daniel Boone Homestead and I took some pictures as we meandered around. To top it all off, we called my in-laws who were watching our nephews this weekend. I was feeling so uncharacteristically great that I thought we'd all go to 'The Works' for dinner and games. 'The Works' is like a Dave and Busters type game place. The boys barely made it through dinner with anticipation.
We ran around the whole game room. I drove an 18 Wheeler, a job that I am now confirmed that I am not capable to do, fought ghosts and spaced invaders, fed lions and elephants and crocodiles, fed huge dogs their food, played skee-ball, rode jeeps, and played some mystery jackpot game. Don't you know Timothy got the jackpot? Over 600 tickets!! By the time the night was over, the boys had nearly 1000 points each. They were not interested in the 900 point toys. Well, the youngest was. Timothy wanted every 10 and 25 reward that they had. We finally worked it up that he got some toys for larger points so we were not there until midnight picking penny prizes. As we walked out we were invited to their next outing to 'The Works' by Timothy because 'Aunt Allyson is cool.' Oh did that make my night. . .
As much as I am huring from this big day and as much as I know I have not even begun to feel the repercussions, I had one of the greatest days in a long time. It felt good to get sun on my face and to move those muscles despite their cries to stay still. If I can push it, tomorrow we've got some shopping to do. I'd really like to keep going. I've got to push my limits and see how far I can go with this. What is too far? Though I doubt it'll be so cut and dry. One thing may let me do marathon shopping sprees, yet walking an entire day at Daniel Boone might knock me out for a week. But In owe it to myself, now that I have this time off, to find out what it is.
And as 1am rolls around and I complete this blog, I feel the blanket of sleep wrap around me. It's comfort pushing me gently to the bed. My eyes, for the first time in days are slowly closing. I think I will sleep and that I will sleep well. Something that above everything else today makes me the happiest.
This was the first time in several months that I sat back and thoroughly enjoyed my visit. We managed to be her only clients that night so we just talked about all kinds of stuff. It was very relaxing and just nice to interact with like-minded people again. Plus, we were so close to home. Before we drove over 45 minutes to get our hair done. This time we were able to go out for dinner afterwards and still get home before 9:30.
I love that the salon uses Aveda products. They're all natural, they've really gone product by product and removed as much chemical as they can. And when they find that they can make something better they make those changes too. I don't smell or feel the color on my head. My hair has never been this shiny, soft and easy to manage. My cut is wonderful. If I don't want to do anything to it, I just let it air-dry. I can scrunch it with a small bit of curl creme and I've got great waves that stay. I just feel like my hair reflects what I wanted it to look like in my head. She LISTENS to not just me but Eddie - and it's not her idea. We both pull out the color samples and hair style pictures until we've got the right one. It's wonderful. Sometimes change, even when you don't think you need it, is a good thing.
And today, despite yet another night of not sleeping, I made myself get out of bed at noon (hey, don't give me crap - I went to bed at 5am!!)We played Mini Golf . . .I won! Which let me tell you, that seldom happens. I am the queen of 6s and up! I felt great afterwards so we walked around The Daniel Boone Homestead and I took some pictures as we meandered around. To top it all off, we called my in-laws who were watching our nephews this weekend. I was feeling so uncharacteristically great that I thought we'd all go to 'The Works' for dinner and games. 'The Works' is like a Dave and Busters type game place. The boys barely made it through dinner with anticipation.
We ran around the whole game room. I drove an 18 Wheeler, a job that I am now confirmed that I am not capable to do, fought ghosts and spaced invaders, fed lions and elephants and crocodiles, fed huge dogs their food, played skee-ball, rode jeeps, and played some mystery jackpot game. Don't you know Timothy got the jackpot? Over 600 tickets!! By the time the night was over, the boys had nearly 1000 points each. They were not interested in the 900 point toys. Well, the youngest was. Timothy wanted every 10 and 25 reward that they had. We finally worked it up that he got some toys for larger points so we were not there until midnight picking penny prizes. As we walked out we were invited to their next outing to 'The Works' by Timothy because 'Aunt Allyson is cool.' Oh did that make my night. . .
As much as I am huring from this big day and as much as I know I have not even begun to feel the repercussions, I had one of the greatest days in a long time. It felt good to get sun on my face and to move those muscles despite their cries to stay still. If I can push it, tomorrow we've got some shopping to do. I'd really like to keep going. I've got to push my limits and see how far I can go with this. What is too far? Though I doubt it'll be so cut and dry. One thing may let me do marathon shopping sprees, yet walking an entire day at Daniel Boone might knock me out for a week. But In owe it to myself, now that I have this time off, to find out what it is.
And as 1am rolls around and I complete this blog, I feel the blanket of sleep wrap around me. It's comfort pushing me gently to the bed. My eyes, for the first time in days are slowly closing. I think I will sleep and that I will sleep well. Something that above everything else today makes me the happiest.
Friday, June 4, 2010
It's My Party, I'll Cry if I Want To.
Unbeknownst to me, my body has decided to go on a sleep strike. Of all things. Sleep. Why not hunger. I could stand to lose the weight. But nooooo, sleep. Since a little before Memorial Day I've been trying to sleep. I got a couple days in, but I'm back to no sleep again. And yeah, I know, happy happy joy joy and all that bullshit.
Guess what, today I'm going to be a bitch and today I'm going to bitch about it because damnit, I want my sleep back. It's not even just being tired anymore. I now have the lovely buzzy electrical, thousand racing thoughts in my head, aching, twitching never getting comfortable no sleep pissing me off side effect of fibromyalgia. This buzzing sensation is so odd. It's like there are bees in me. And not in the cool Homer Simpson way either. I don't shoot them out when I talk so when I talk bees attack people. No, this is just buzzing around humming inside every cell. It's the creepiest feeling by far that I've encountered.
Forget about reading too. I either read a few pages and forget what I've read (which is VERY unlike me) or I can't get comfortable enough to read. I can't do anything with flower arranging because this buzzing humming has made my fingers near useless. As hard as I've tried arranging by mouth, people don't appreciate slobbered on arrangements. As much as you try, you can't sell them on the 'it's not slobber, it's dew' theory. So I've spent way too much time this week on the internet. I now play more games on Facebook than I care to that I know will involve way more time than I'd like to spend. Words and pictures just pass by my eyes online, the tv, books and magazines and they don't connect in my brain.
I know that when the weather gets better and it isn't storming or threatening to storm every day that I'll get some relief. But fuck, why can't it be now? I have thoughts in my head and I want to get them out but they stick there. I write and it doesn't sound right, not like me. I know, then don't write, but here's where I'm really stressing myself out. I haven't talked to my dad since last August. Among the bazillion other things that have happened since last summer until now; I made the choice to temporarily cut my dad out of my life.
We don't have the closest relationship to start with. But last summer, I really felt like my life was crashing down around me. And adding the stress of the holidays (stressful because I always have expectations of good holidays with him and the ever present dissapointment because I realize that my father is ultimately a stranger) I just had to cut something out and compartmentalize the things in my life that were crashing around me. So the Dad/Step-Family box has been in storage 5 miles away and out of my sight.
With father's day approaching and the looming fact that I at least owe my dad some kind of explanation of what is going on in my life, I know I have to get in contact with him somehow. The most passive way for me was to write him a letter. So what to say, 16 years of hurt and dissapointment have been buzzing around with the bees. These words are just floating around, fragmented and confused and I don't know how to put them together but I know that I have to.
I know that once I sleep I know that it will all come together. Will it magically make everything ok between my dad and I? I'm not getting my hopes up. It'll be done, I'll have said my peace and will know that was all I could do. If I could only read and relax and rid the buzzing humming tension and get a few days of good sleep, my mind will be so much better. I'll be able to focus on the good instead of the bad. So bear with me if it takes a post or two or three to get this shit out of my system.
Guess what, today I'm going to be a bitch and today I'm going to bitch about it because damnit, I want my sleep back. It's not even just being tired anymore. I now have the lovely buzzy electrical, thousand racing thoughts in my head, aching, twitching never getting comfortable no sleep pissing me off side effect of fibromyalgia. This buzzing sensation is so odd. It's like there are bees in me. And not in the cool Homer Simpson way either. I don't shoot them out when I talk so when I talk bees attack people. No, this is just buzzing around humming inside every cell. It's the creepiest feeling by far that I've encountered.
Forget about reading too. I either read a few pages and forget what I've read (which is VERY unlike me) or I can't get comfortable enough to read. I can't do anything with flower arranging because this buzzing humming has made my fingers near useless. As hard as I've tried arranging by mouth, people don't appreciate slobbered on arrangements. As much as you try, you can't sell them on the 'it's not slobber, it's dew' theory. So I've spent way too much time this week on the internet. I now play more games on Facebook than I care to that I know will involve way more time than I'd like to spend. Words and pictures just pass by my eyes online, the tv, books and magazines and they don't connect in my brain.
I know that when the weather gets better and it isn't storming or threatening to storm every day that I'll get some relief. But fuck, why can't it be now? I have thoughts in my head and I want to get them out but they stick there. I write and it doesn't sound right, not like me. I know, then don't write, but here's where I'm really stressing myself out. I haven't talked to my dad since last August. Among the bazillion other things that have happened since last summer until now; I made the choice to temporarily cut my dad out of my life.
We don't have the closest relationship to start with. But last summer, I really felt like my life was crashing down around me. And adding the stress of the holidays (stressful because I always have expectations of good holidays with him and the ever present dissapointment because I realize that my father is ultimately a stranger) I just had to cut something out and compartmentalize the things in my life that were crashing around me. So the Dad/Step-Family box has been in storage 5 miles away and out of my sight.
With father's day approaching and the looming fact that I at least owe my dad some kind of explanation of what is going on in my life, I know I have to get in contact with him somehow. The most passive way for me was to write him a letter. So what to say, 16 years of hurt and dissapointment have been buzzing around with the bees. These words are just floating around, fragmented and confused and I don't know how to put them together but I know that I have to.
I know that once I sleep I know that it will all come together. Will it magically make everything ok between my dad and I? I'm not getting my hopes up. It'll be done, I'll have said my peace and will know that was all I could do. If I could only read and relax and rid the buzzing humming tension and get a few days of good sleep, my mind will be so much better. I'll be able to focus on the good instead of the bad. So bear with me if it takes a post or two or three to get this shit out of my system.
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