Shopping during the holidays present a bit of a challenge for me. No, it's not the crowds or all the strange people bumping into me, although I hate that. To my mind there is only one place on EARTH where that is acceptable behavior. Disneyland. And as much as I want it to be, Wal-Mart isn't Disneyland, so stop touching me!
My problem with holiday shopping is the stuff. All the lovely stuff. On sale. Calling to me.
I walk into a store and the first thought my brain screams at me is BUY ALL THE THINGS! The second thought is BUY MORE OF ALL THE THINGS! Thoughts three through ten are much the same. Buy all the things, while my wallet whispers don't even think about it. But my wallet is so quiet and the displays are so LOUD. Even if I'm at Home Depot. And I'm definitely not a handy person, but that doesn't matter at the holidays. The perpetual season of hope promises that if I buy the things, the talent will come. Want to tile your bathroom? Buy that circular saw that's on sale and all will be well. That decorating project you've had in the back of your mind for a year? Well NOW is exactly the time you should spend $300 on it!
It makes me wish I didn't have such a strong moral compass when it comes to stealing. Think of all the things I could have if I had a more convoluted ethical mind. And I would have a code. Oh yes. A thieving code. I'd never steal from someone I knew. Unless your name is Erin Pickett and we were in the third grade together. Then I have a confession. It was me who stole your bunny-shaped eraser.
No, I'm not sorry. It was the third grade. And it was a Bunny. Shaped. Eraser.
Enough said.
But back to the stuff. The other 330 days of the year I have no problem ignoring their siren call. Then comes Black Friday and suddenly things that were too far out of reach have now been price-reduced to just barely out of bounds. What's a greedy little elf to do? And it's nearly impossible to avoid a store for more than a month, especially when they are there every time I turn on the computer. So I give in. Just a little. Then maybe just a bit more. And before I know it I've eaten the entire pie.
Figuratively speaking.
Oh well, 'tis the season. Merry Christmas everyone.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
an open letter to you
We never talk anymore. I can't even remember the last conversation we had that wasn't in person. That's been a long time. And it's my fault. I really dislike talking on the phone. It feels awkward. I'm a visual person and not being able to see your expressions and dramatic hand gestures puts me at a loss. Even as a teenager I had a hard time with the phone. What to say, what to bring to the conversation that hadn't already been said a hundred times before. After you've filled me in on your life, I feel stuck. What to say now? My life revolves around Penelope. Every story begins and ends with her. I don't have much more of myself to bring to the table. She is my whole day and how many cutesy stories can you take? As for me, do you really want to listen to how I had a horrible withdrawal reaction to one of my bipolar medications? Want to hear about how I have nightmares that I'll be recommitted to the psychiatric hospital and never let out? Or how we put up the Christmas tree and Penny seems physically incapable of keeping her hands off it? Wait. Sorry. That's a Penny story. Again.
And that's really all the stories I have anymore.
But not liking to talk on the phone is a pitiful excuse. A pitiful excuse for not communicating and makes me a poor excuse for a friend. I miss your voice and hearing about you. And what about texting, emailing and Skype? In this day I could talk to you a hundred different ways without ever actually hearing a dial tone. So I'm sorry for failing you in this, for making excuses. Excuses are inexcusable.
You are family as well as my friend. I shouldn't put my phone-talking deficiencies ahead of hearing about you. Because that's why I should be calling - to hear crazy stories from your life since we feel so far apart. It's a poor excuse for friendship and, again, I'm sorry. I promise I'll do better.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
hamburger, vajayjay, or who ha
{While lying in bed, trying to fall asleep}
Jason: Did you teach Penny the word "pee-pee"?
Me: I think I've used it before, yeah, why?
Jason: She pointed to her, um...parts, and said "pee-pee" during her bath and I know I've never used it before. I was just wondering where she heard it.
Me: Yeah, I told her that. I figured that was a safe enough word for it. I didn't want to use "hamburger" or something and her forever have a weird sexual connotation to a random object. "Vagina" is a little grown up for her and I refuse to call it a "vajayjay." That word makes me want to mind-vomit. I usually call it a "who ha" but you kind of have to use that in context or it could mean anything. So "pee-pee"; it's where the pee comes out, so "pee-pee". I made an executive decision without you and if you don't like it you should say something now so we can change it or we'll have to live with it forever.
Jason: {snore}
Me: "Pee-pee" it is.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
the bipolar express
I wonder when I became such a pessimist. Does it stem from the mental illness or was it always there? I heard a song by The Police on the radio the other day and a lyric from the tune jumped out and hit me over the head as exactly how I was feeling - "It's a big enough umbrella but it's always me that ends up getting wet." I remember thinking "Oh wow, that is so my life."
Except it's not. It's an almost depressing sentiment in the middle of a song about how a man is in awe of the woman he loves. Is this how I've begun to see the world? Hopefully this is all just the lack of therapeutic med levels talking and once I'm stable again I'll feel differently.
Speaking of medications which keep me sane...
Did you ever play that game as a kid where you spin around in a circle as fast as you can until you stop to throw up? That's how the last month and a half have been for me. The medication that I had been on since May had begun to display it's most hated side effect. Weight gain. The average amount of weight gain on this med is 40lbs.
FORTY. POUNDS.
That's two of Penny just in weight that I would probably gain without the benefits of excess chocolate. Plus, it was making me tired all the time so a revision had to be made. I decided to go ahead and see the doctor my office was assigning patients to after my original doctor left. I was apprehensive but hopeful. Turns out I didn't have anything to worry about. The new doctor was efficient and quick, two qualities I prefer in a doctor. So after one dosage variation and no change to the tiredness or weight, we decided to start from scratch. The new approach would be a separate medicine for depression and anxiety, basically what I had tried a few years ago but at different levels of newer prescriptions.
For two glorious weeks I felt like a rock star. I was able to plan and execute Penny's 2nd birthday party and Halloween with no issues. I felt like myself instead of a crazy woman just faking it and saying everything was hunky-dory. The third week found me crying at night for no apparent reason. The fourth week was just short of Hell. I was back to being where I was before I went into the hospital. It had taken only four short weeks to get me back to what had before taken a year.
Back to the doctor I went. It turns out I definitely need a mood stabilizer to be a functioning human being. Three new drugs later and so far so good.
The real test will be the Christmas season. We have plans for visiting family and for family visiting us and I want to be as relaxed and unstressed as possible. You know, more on the non-crazy side of the fence than the crazy side, with me under the umbrella.
Except it's not. It's an almost depressing sentiment in the middle of a song about how a man is in awe of the woman he loves. Is this how I've begun to see the world? Hopefully this is all just the lack of therapeutic med levels talking and once I'm stable again I'll feel differently.
Speaking of medications which keep me sane...
Did you ever play that game as a kid where you spin around in a circle as fast as you can until you stop to throw up? That's how the last month and a half have been for me. The medication that I had been on since May had begun to display it's most hated side effect. Weight gain. The average amount of weight gain on this med is 40lbs.
FORTY. POUNDS.
That's two of Penny just in weight that I would probably gain without the benefits of excess chocolate. Plus, it was making me tired all the time so a revision had to be made. I decided to go ahead and see the doctor my office was assigning patients to after my original doctor left. I was apprehensive but hopeful. Turns out I didn't have anything to worry about. The new doctor was efficient and quick, two qualities I prefer in a doctor. So after one dosage variation and no change to the tiredness or weight, we decided to start from scratch. The new approach would be a separate medicine for depression and anxiety, basically what I had tried a few years ago but at different levels of newer prescriptions.
For two glorious weeks I felt like a rock star. I was able to plan and execute Penny's 2nd birthday party and Halloween with no issues. I felt like myself instead of a crazy woman just faking it and saying everything was hunky-dory. The third week found me crying at night for no apparent reason. The fourth week was just short of Hell. I was back to being where I was before I went into the hospital. It had taken only four short weeks to get me back to what had before taken a year.
Back to the doctor I went. It turns out I definitely need a mood stabilizer to be a functioning human being. Three new drugs later and so far so good.
The real test will be the Christmas season. We have plans for visiting family and for family visiting us and I want to be as relaxed and unstressed as possible. You know, more on the non-crazy side of the fence than the crazy side, with me under the umbrella.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
building vocabulary
Penny said her first cuss word today. Properly too, I might add. While carrying a couple of empty pots around the living room, she tripped and dropped them. Then we heard, "Oh shit" calmly carrying through to the kitchen. Not an exclamatory interjection. More a statement of fact. She then proceeded to drop things on purpose and use this phrase approximately 47 times in a 15 minute period. I can already hear my mom.
Jamie, I can't believe you would use such language around your precious little baby! And enough that she picked it up! AND can use it correctly!!!
Yes, multiple exclamation points would be needed.
My mom is obviously overlooking the fact that my daughter is so smart she can use "shit" correctly in a sentence before she's even two years old. That's a genius child, right there. And Penny wasn't using it to shock. She didn't even look at us to see our reactions. She was just talking to herself. She just happened to be swearing when she did it.
But yes, I do use such language around my child. Not on purpose. OK, wait. Yes. Sometimes on purpose. But it's like when we as parents agreed that we were going to try not to teach her the word "no" for as long as possible. Then the first time she's about to stick a car key into the blu-ray player you forget all about using phrases like "Please, don't do that" and "I really wish you wouldn't." Uh-uh. Instead you yell NO as loudly as you can because we all know babies have selective hearing.
The point is, it just slips out. When she was born I didn't get all excited about the new and inventive swear words I could teach her. But I'm human, and a potty mouth, and sometimes it just happens.
So Jason and I have agreed that we're going to be much more careful about the words we choose to use around her. The little sponge just soaks up everything. And instead of telling her how proud I am of her that she can use that word correctly, I'm just going to ignore it and hopefully it'll go away.
But for the record, I'm so proud!
Jamie, I can't believe you would use such language around your precious little baby! And enough that she picked it up! AND can use it correctly!!!
Yes, multiple exclamation points would be needed.
My mom is obviously overlooking the fact that my daughter is so smart she can use "shit" correctly in a sentence before she's even two years old. That's a genius child, right there. And Penny wasn't using it to shock. She didn't even look at us to see our reactions. She was just talking to herself. She just happened to be swearing when she did it.
But yes, I do use such language around my child. Not on purpose. OK, wait. Yes. Sometimes on purpose. But it's like when we as parents agreed that we were going to try not to teach her the word "no" for as long as possible. Then the first time she's about to stick a car key into the blu-ray player you forget all about using phrases like "Please, don't do that" and "I really wish you wouldn't." Uh-uh. Instead you yell NO as loudly as you can because we all know babies have selective hearing.
The point is, it just slips out. When she was born I didn't get all excited about the new and inventive swear words I could teach her. But I'm human, and a potty mouth, and sometimes it just happens.
So Jason and I have agreed that we're going to be much more careful about the words we choose to use around her. The little sponge just soaks up everything. And instead of telling her how proud I am of her that she can use that word correctly, I'm just going to ignore it and hopefully it'll go away.
But for the record, I'm so proud!
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