Cry Me a River

At one point in my life, I rarely cried. Not that there was a lack of things to cry about. There was an abundance, but I was the stoic sort that keep things neatly bottled up inside. It was safest that way. If they can't see your pain, they can't use it against you.

Then one day, that changed. I generally blame pregnancy and hormones for the shift. I, incorrectly apparently, assumed that once the hormones regulated I would return to normal. But here we are four and a half years post baby and the tears stream freely. I cry over tv commercials, songs on the radio, stories people tell and books that I read.

I have only just dried my eyes as I finished my latest book. The tears forming little rivers as I mourned a fictional character. It bothers me how easily I cry these days. It happens at inopportune times. While explaining myself to my ________ (boss, child, husband, friend), my eyes fill. While driving down the road and certain songs come on the radio. I have soaked the cuffs of my sleeves removing tears in the hopes that no one will notice.

I just wish I wasn't quite so transparent.

Suicide Fish

It was only a week ago. The family went to the school carnival. The cafeteria was packed, it was busy and loud and everything a carnival should be. I was cringing on the inside, as crowds make me tense. But the boys were in heaven. All day we weren't sure if we would make it, sweetP had not been feeling well. But he really wanted to go, so much that he took a nap in the afternoon.

All around the perimeter there were games, there were more games down the hallways and out into the gym. I never made it to the gym [bummer ;)]. Ring Toss, Fishing, Balloon Darts, Duck Pond, all kinds of games. And food, pretzels, nachos, cotton candy, pizza, and so much more.

We each took a boy and off we went. Ducky and sweetP took off to play games, sweetE and I mostly hung out and waited in the cotton candy line. Ducky and sweetP played the gold fish game and wouldn't you know, they won a goldfish. I have never in my life successfully gotten the ping pong ball in the fish bowl. At the end of the night, we claimed our loot. One goldfish, four-two liters of Coke, one ring pop, an LED fan and two poppers.

We didn't think it would be a good idea to put the little goldfish in with our big goldfish, he has a history of eating fins and snails. Didn't seem like a nice welcoming gesture to get eaten. So Ducky put him in a cereal bowl on the kitchen counter. The plan was to get him a bowl of his in the morning. All the boys went to bed and I had the house to myself.

It is eleven o'clock and the house is quiet. I am going through the regular night time routine of locking up the house and taking my medicine. While getting into the dishwasher to get a glass, I notice something on the floor. I see the suicide fish. The fish has leapt out of his bowl, gone across the kitchen counter and landed on the floor. I cannot leave him there, and it would be better if the boys find him belly up in his bowl rather than the floor. That and I don't want to deal with the potential consequences should Velcro decide to eat him.

So I peel him off the floor, he had started to stick. And unceremoniously slipped him back into the water. Wash hands and get on with going to bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his gills move. Suicide fish is alive! Did I mention he was stuck to the floor, he had been there for a while. So now, instead of going to bed, I am cheering on a goldfish. "Breathe fishy, breathe. Come on little fishy, you can do it." Once his breathing seemed to be going okay, I moved on to swimming. "Come on little fishy, swim, swim, swim." Poor guy's little fin was injured when I peeled him off the floor. He could only swim backwards. I went up to get him a fish flake to help entice him to swim. Not that I eat when I don't feel great, but it was worth a shot.

I left him to recover and decided it was time to get into bed. But only after covering his bowl with plastic wrap (with little holes cut into it) just in case he got any more crazy ideas of escape.

The next morning he was still alive. Nothing short of a miracle. So while I took sweetE to a birthday party, Ducky and sweetP went to get him a bowl. He was in his new home and seemed to be swimming better. He had been named "Sparky Sparky Doom Fish."

The next morning he was dead. Poor fish never really had a chance. Sloshing home, new environment, jumping out, another new environment. He certainly lived up to the Doom part of his name.

We cleaned his tank, filled it up and headed to the pet store. We came home with Darty the Betta. Darty is doing just fine and enjoys his new tank immensely.

Back on the Migraine Train

After what appeared to be great success with the chiropractor, I seem to be headed straight back to hell. We are upping my visits again, but dang this sucks. I also finally scheduled my follow up with the neurologist, I am only 4 months late.

If you are not sure what I am talking about, just check out the migraine total on the sidebar.

Motivation

I need something to light a fire. I am feeling ever so unmotivated. I have a bazillion projects, or at least it seems. But I am leery of jumping into any of them. I don't want to get neck deep into a project and then have to drop it because life got in the way. I have been getting things done. But I don't feel like I am making any headway in the big picture. Every where I look things appear completely overwhelming.

I have this problem that when things get too overwhelming, I just shut down and don't get any of it done. I counsel my students not to get in too deep, but feel myself doing that exact thing. I have a great quote on my classroom wall, "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." I just can't choose the direction to start in. I loathe to do anything half way, but getting it done the way I want doesn't seem to be possible anymore.

So what am I to do? Maybe I will put together a vote of what project I should launch into and you can help me decide. But not until tomorrow. I need to go to bed if I am to avoid the germ factory within my house and the headache factory that is me.

He's Got the Look

Once upon a time, I got to choose sweetP's clothes. At the store, at home. I had fun picking out his clothes and enhancing his cuteness.

Somewhere along the line he has developed an opinion about his clothes. He has fashioned himself a look. He wears his look nearly every day. It looks something like this.

Jeans, preferably with ripped knees. At one time, he never went anywhere with ripped knees. "Ripped knees are cool mom."

Long Sleeve Underarmor. These were purchased to keep him healthy during soccer season. Now they keep him a comfortable temperature as he traverses the school. It is a known fact that the temperature in a school can vary by as many as 20 degrees. At least every school I have been in.

A short sleeve t-shirt. He has a few select favorites. Unfortunately, it never seems to be the one that I pick. Even if my choice was a favorite the week before. Then he proceeds to unfold and rummage through the entire drawer to find a certain one.

Tennis shoes. Always double knotted. The shoe tying is still a little shaky.

Every day of the week. Unless the two underarmors are dirty. Then he will choose a long sleeve tee to wear.

He is still cute, but I miss seeing him in a polo or sweater every now and then. Those generally only get worn when I play the "I'm the mommy card," in relation to picture day or some other special event. My little boy is not so little any more.

Back on the Balance Board

February was not my month. Sick, tired, sick and tired. Last year February was not my month either. But March is here with flowers and warmer temperatures (I hope). Yesterday, I came to the distinct realization that those pants that fit before the holidays were just too snug and giving me the most unflattering muffin top. Untamable even with spandex.

I have never been one that is big on exercise. But, I also really don't want to go buy new clothes in a bigger size. So this morning I dusted off the balance board and logged on. I was informed that it had been 35 days since my last visit. Did I mention that February was a bust. Much to sweetE's dismay, I chose free step. He wanted me to do the running. I prefer to only run when being chased, but I promised that after my step I would run with him.

So after 30 minutes of stepping and watching HGTV, I did two short runs with him. Here's to looser pants, more energy and even fewer headaches. Wii Fit, the only exercise I can manage. But whatever gets the job done. Right?