Oh My, He Did NOT Just Say That…

So today, I was laughing at Steve [he was looking around for a hanger to hang his uniform pants on, a hanger that I had put in the pocket of the pants he was wearing, so he was looking around for a hanger he was already holding… oh come on, you'd laugh too!] 

He thought maybe I shouldn't be laughing so hard at him, so he threw me on the bed and jumped on top of me.  My feet ended up over his shoulders [tmi, I know, but we were fully clothed, and you need to know this].

So we're laughing and I'm trying to get away from him, when we hear, "Ugh, eww!"  From Matthew.  Then we hear footsteps into the kitchen and a yelled [at the top of his lungs because he only has one volume level].  "Dad's kissing Mom's butt!"

So now we're laughing uncontrollably, almost too much to move, and Steve lets me up so we can go explain that what he thought he saw wasn't what he saw…  Well, anyway, next episode.

Matt's been obsessed with super-powers ever since we watched Sky High.  He was truly depressed when I told him that he'll never be able to go 'in-visible' [one day he asked me, "Mom, where is visible, anyway?" or move stuff without touching it.

So I'm sitting here, and the kids are playing in the kitchen, and suddenly my ears tune in to what they're saying.  Matt says, "You could have 'puke power!'  That means you can puke when you want to.  Do you wanna have that power, Shaya?"

"Yes, I already have it."  Much fake gagging ensues and they run off to watch their dad play video games. 

So now Steve is cussing the video game, the kids are distracting him by talking to him, and it's time for him to get ready for work, so I have to go interrupt the bond-fest because Steve can't tell time when the GameCube is on.

Finally Got My Sidebar Fixed

But getting back into the swing of blogging is proving more difficult than anticipated.  I think I've had a minor switch in priorities, plus I'm dealing with some health stuff.

Had a migraine the other day. It wasn't a full-blown, throwing up every time I move one, thank God, but it did make me feel like crap.  I took on of my new sample migraine meds, and found out that the muscle burning thing like I'm not getting enough oxygen happens with this one, too.  Yay.  

Then today, my back went out, so I'm gimping around.  There's a ton of laundry that needs to be done, but bending over sends my back into horrific muscle spasms, so chances are it's over for the day, you know?

Tomorrow's church, and Steve's working until three in the morning, so it'll be up to me to make sure we wake up.  The last time it was my turn to do that on a Sunday, we missed church.  Oops.

Actually, I'm having a stage where I'm just not that into church.  I don't have any interest in going or helping in any way.  I would mostly like to be able to go on a vacation alone for a couple of weeks.  I would love to go to an isolated cabin in the woods, with enough groceries to last a month so I don't have to leave, and just rest.  No kids, no husband, no friends, just me, a pile of books, and, if he wants to come, God. 

My creativity is in the toilet, too.  That's probably part of the reason blogging isn't as exciting as it once was, because I've got nothing interesting to say. 

I'm on my second pack of birth control pills, and this funk started about the time I went back on it, so maybe it'll let up once my body gets used to the extra hormones?  My friend Sarah recently started birth control and she said at one point she got really depressed, so I'm hoping that that's all this is and it will pass for me like it did for her.

It feels dumb to be on the pill at thirty-two years old, but I don't want any more kids, and we're still considering our permanent options.  Actually, we know that Steve will get a vascectomy, but the when and where is an issue.

Would you believe that Steve's insurance won't pay for birth control pills?  Yeah, me neither.  You'd think the stupid bastards would be all about preventing pregnancies since they are a helluva lot more expensive than the pill, but they're stupid.

I don't know how long I'll be on the pill because of that, but interestingly, my libido has increased since I've been on it.  Knowing that I won't get pregnant has definitely relieved a lot of pressure.

When Steve and I got married, I went on the pill for a while, but had some pretty crappy side-effects, so we just decided to give my fertility to God.  Which would have been stupid if I was really fertile with ovulations every month, because I'd have ended up with 8 kids instead of three. 

But, I only have two or three periods a year, which at best makes me fertile anywhere from four to twelve days a year, which isn't great odds for pregnancy when you consider the fact that I don't have sex every day, or even every other day, or even, well, you get the picture.

So anyway, I was okay with letting God decide if and when we had kids.  I was even okay with having more than three right after Michaela was born [which is a bit odd, I admit, since my pregnancies are difficult to say the least].  But as Michaela has gotten older I've realized that I'm tired of babies and diapers and pregnancy brain.

I'm tired of being stuck at home all the time because it's hard for me to take all of the kids somewhere [I have some mild agorophobia that becomes severe when I've got my kids with me.  I always feel like one of them will wander off and be gone forever, and I couldn't deal with that, so I just don't go out].  

And even though I feel like a complete shit for saying it, there is a pretty major sacrifice that's necessary if I really want to give my kids the kind of care I think they deserve.  No one will take care of my kids like I will.  No one shares my parenting philosophy, and while I'm not the best parent in the world, I think I am the best parent for my kids because I love them more than someone else would.

Oh, I know some people can love kids that aren't their own as if they were, but I don't know any personally.  And very few day care workers and teachers can give kids the love they need because there's too many kids that need too much.

But, there are times when I wish I could have a month or so where I can just rest.  It's weird and feels wrong to want some time that's just my own, but I do. 

I'd love to go to college and study art and writing.  I'd love to be able to get oil paints and leave them out without worrying that someone will paint the walls with them.  I'd love to be able to walk through the house without tripping over fifteen Barbies and Hot Wheels on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and then have to swear and moan silently so I don't wake the kids.

Yeah, I know, it'll happen all too soon and I'll be wishing they were little again, but right now, at this moment, this is how I feel and I don't need any guilt trips because I'm not enjoying every minute of being a stay-at-home-mom, and that I sometimes resent the fact that I'm not allowed to think of myself first. 

I haven't written about writing in a while.  It's still a dream of mine, but I've kinda put it on the back burner.  The words come when I sit down and start to write, but it seems like there's always something that's more urgent than my story. 

It's a problem that a lot of aspiring writers have, which is largely why they remain aspiring.  I know that by letting life choke out the writing I'm losing the battle to be published before I even begin.  I know that it'll always be something.  Right now it's the kids, soon it will be something else, like aging parents or something.  Then it'll be health problems because I'm too damn old.  I know that, and yet right now, I just don't care.

Right now I'm being swallowed alive, and I just don't have the energy to fight it anymore. 

Home At Last

And it's freaking cold in my room.  Steve put the space heater in the attic before we left for vacation, and now I'm cold.

Oh well.  We got home and everything is in the living room.  Still.  Steve went back to work tonight, and I hope he's enjoying himself [I'm sure he is.  The man gutted hogs at a pork processing plant for a year and a half and loved it, so that gives you an idea of how easy he is to please!]

So the house is ridiculous.  We got home and realized that our back door was unlocked.  Nothing was missing, but I swear I locked the damn thing before we left.  Eesh.  

I left the front door open one night and the neighbor noticed it before we got home and went in to check things out with a baseball bat in hand.  Embarrassing.  So it's possible I left the door unlocked, but I could have sworn…

Oh, just up the street from us, a couple was arrested for having $17,000 worth of 'ice' in their possession.  Intending to sell it.  Lousy bastards.  Apparantly, ice is a more potent form of meth that is imported from Mexico.  Like straight home-cooked meth isn't bad enough? 

I guess people around here are cooking less of it themselves.  Thank God, that's some wicked shit to cook.  Steve saw pictures in the academy of burns people get from the ammonia and other stuff they use when cooking it.  One was of a two or three year old who was burned all over his arms and chest after he got into some of his daddy's chemicals.  Unbelievable.

I've never been one to really like being stoned or drunk [although I admit I have a real affection for Vicodin… but only because it makes me sleep.  I don't like to stay awake for the feeling, but drug induced sleep is wonderful.  Weird, I know.  Thank God it makes me itch like crazy or I'd be addicted.  As it is, I only remember fondly not being able to keep my eyes open and giving in to the bliss of sleep, because now the itching is so freaking bad it keeps me awake!]

So anyway, my heart pretty much precludes me using stimulants stronger than caffeine [and then only in drinks, and limited].  I tried 'mini-thins' once when I was a teenager [minithins are an asthma med… might be ephedrine, but I can't remember and I'm too lazy to look it up, but a lot of truck drivers used it as speed.  Which is where I got mine, at the truck stop].

Yeah, I felt pretty good for about 20 minutes and then my heart sped up and started skipping and I felt like absolut shit for several hours [and this after taking a half of a tablet] so speed of any sort has scared the hell out of me since then.

I guess it's a good thing, since I've never been tempted to try many drugs [had a couple of run-ins with pot when I was nineteen.  Didn't like that either, and then I got some that must have been either really good, or laced with something because I was seeing lightning bolts and felt like I had cataracts or something because I couldn't see very well, and I couldn't breath very well, and that was the last time I ever tried pot because I felt like I was numb and walking through water for two weeks afterward.  

Oh man, that was an awful experience.  I still have no idea what happened, and the guy I was smoking with swore that it was just some really good weed, with nothing else mixed in, so maybe I just had a bad reaction to it.  I dunno, but that was the end of my illegal drug experimentation.

Hey, guess what?  I had no idea what I was going to blog about when I started this, but I ended up rambling for a good spell, don't you think?

I'm home, and it is good.

Hello There!

I'm still alive, but I'm on my mom's computer with a dialup connection so every minute I'm on the computer, her phone is busy.

We've had a great vacation so far.  Going home on Tuesday, where I will hopefully begin blogging regularly again [sounds like constipation, doesn't it?]  I'm homesick, but alas, Stevie thinks he needs to go turkey hunting, so we must stay for a couple more days, since the season doesn't open until Monday.

I don't understand the whole hunting thing.  In fact, if we could afford it, I'd probably be a vegetarian [and if I wasn't hypoglycemic and if soybeans didn't give me horrible gas… Hey! Lookie there, I get to classify this one as TMI!].

Oh well, I'm rambling because I'm short on time, and sleepy to boot.  Lethal combination for my coherency.

Vacation at the Lake of the Ozarks was relaxing and fun.  It's not the least bit exotic since I grew up an hour and a half from the lake, but it wasn't home, so it counts.  Missouri is pretty un-glamorous [but a lot of people come here, so maybe it's just un-glamorous to me since I've lived here my whole life… anyone else feel that way about their homeland?]

So anyway, the family has colds [except Shaya and me] so they're all grumpy and snotty, and Steve is supposed to sing at our old church in the morning.  I dunno if it's going to happen, though.  We'll see.

Anyway, this'll probably be all until Tuesday or Wednesday, so I hope you are all doing well.  Stay safe, and all that.

Better, But Migraine, Also…

This will more than likely be my last post for a while. We're going on vacation, and I don't know how feasible blogging will be while I'm gone.

Ah well, we need a vacation, so I won't complain much if I don't get to vent to the great blogosphere.

My mood is considerably better today. I'm still a little sad, but since I'm not pissed off at the world, I consider that a definite improvement.

We got a 14 day free trial of Rhapsody and I'm listening to Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb. I love that song! Okay, I love Floyd. I know they're not PC, but it's the music that gets me. There's something about big orchestras in rock music. I dunno, I just like it.

I remember not too long after Steve and I met each-other [but before we were dating] I watched The Wall. I kinda liked it, and I wasn't even stoned when I watched it. Steve fell asleep. Both times. I guess it's a little weird, but I thought it was cool. Someone said that you could play The Wall on CD and watch The Wizard of Oz at the same time and it would fit somehow. I never tried it though.

I had a long talk with my friend Bec today. Sheesh, I miss her. It's funny, in the ten years or so since I became a Christian, we've gone from being polar opposites on politics and religion [she was a liberal agnostic and I was a conservative, yes almost fundamentalist, Christian] to mostly agreeing on everything.

Neither one of us ever thought that would happen! Strange how a little age and experience change things so much. It's good though, because Bec and I go back even farther than Steve and I do.

I met her when I was nineteen, so we've known eachother for thirteen years now. And been close friends the whole time [with some distances when I went off the deep end].

Yeah, for sheer longevity and 'love you in spite of yourself,' I'd say Bec and Steve are my two all-time best friends. That's a neat thing, you know?

Lindsay and I were talking the other night about friends we can say anything to and not worry about screwing up the friendship so bad it can't be saved. The fact that Bec and I are still friends after some of our former arguments is a testament that that kind of friendship can happen from time to time [even for me].

So I guess I'm done rambling now. It really was good to talk to one of my oldest, dearest friends again. I love you, Bec.

Doing Better, But Still A Little Off

Yup, I'm not ready to kill anybody right now, which is an improvement over yesterday, but I'm still a little off emotionally.  Damn stupid hormones.

I doubt all women go through the freaky hormone thing each and every month, but estrogen and progesterone screw me up in a big way.  I swear that's why my heart rate goes up when I'm pregnant.  It's like I'm allergic to my own chemicals or something.  Weird, I know, and probably not the correct terminology, but I really don't care.

Yeah, so anyway, it's 11:30 and we just got back from church and dinner at Denny's afterward.  "Encounter" went pretty well, I think.  We had live music, and I swear that just makes all the difference in worship.  I just can't get into the canned music CDs we have on Sundays.

Oh well.  I was a little melancholy at the service tonight.  Just more of my usual angst with some PMS thrown in for good measure.  

I still feel like I'm at a crossroads of sorts with my faith.  My heart desires to follow Jesus [the Jesus of the Bible, not necessarily the Jesus many Christians claim today].  And I know my friends desire the same thing, but I feel led in a direction that's different from what most people feel comfortable with, so I'm just in limbo, waiting.

I think part of this is my geography.  I think I need to find a bunch of hippie/earth loving/artsy-fartsy/weirdo- types because when it comes down to it, that's what I've always wanted to be. I'm a closet hippie–who knew?

I saw something on TV about a commune that's earth friendly.  They live in a very small portion of land and share stuff, and make pottery, write poetry, paint, build stuff… which is weird to most people, but to me, it feels right.

You have no idea how weird that is for me to write.  I've spent most of my life working on being down-to-earth and funny, but irreverent, and a little condescending to the people who wear earth tones and Birkenstocks [I can't afford Birkenstocks, but I do like earth tones and poetry]. 

I think it must be similar to some homophobes, they make fun of and ridicule gays and lesbians because they represent a part of themselves they don't want to admit to.  Gays and lesbians don't freak me out, but hippie-vegans do.

So what does this have to do with my faith?  Um, not much except that in figuring out who I am, my faith has to figure in there somewhere, especially since that's pretty much been my entire identity for the past eleven years.

That, and since I believe in a personal God, I believe that he made me this way for a reason.  He gave me my personality, and the things I am interested in won't cause anyone pain, and may even help improve the world, so I don't think there's any reason to not explore some of this stuff.

I'm pretty sure my friends will still love me, I mean they read my blog [without commenting, you putzes!] and haven't disowned me yet, so I guess they'll just deal with this like they have everything else, but these thoughts and interests are so different from everyone else, and I have an intense desire to be understood, [and joined in the insanity?] not just tolerated.

Yeah, maybe it's asking too much to be understood, hell, I don't understand myself most of the time. I dunno, I'm tired now, so I have to sleep.

Goodnight, dear friends.  Stay tuned for more soul-searching-I have to find myself malarkey in the near future.  Heh.  Who knows what I'll end up being?

What's so wonderful about Birkenstocks, anyway? 

WTF???

Anybody know why I have double links on my blogroll?

I tried to fix it, but obviously, it didn't work.

I don't know what my deal is, but I am royally pissed off at everyone today.  We've gone to church every night this week for practices and such, tonight was Maundy Thursday, which is where we remember the last hours of Christ's life… you know, the garden, the arrest, etc.

There wasn't childcare, so I sat in the nursery with the kids.  I tried to go listen to Steve's monologue, but Matt made Michaela scream about a minute after I got to the sanctuary.

I don't know if the hormones from my birth control [which I started this week for the first time in 11 years… that just seems weird to me] are screwing with my mind, or if it's the hormone fluctuation from my period, or a combination, but my depression is nuts today, and I want to hit somebody.

Steve better watch out [okay, not really, but I am being a total bitch, and tomorrow I'll feel guilty for it… tonight I just don't give a shit.]

I want peace and quiet, with no interrupted sleep [Michaela woke up crying three times last night, and she's been a whiner all day… TONS of crying]

Steve's been stressing because we're leaving town next week and we're not packed yet.  I dunno 'bout him sometimes.  His stress stresses me and makes me want to hit someone [because his stress usually results in him nagging me because I hate the laundry and mostly refuse to do it alone, which isn't fair, but right now I just don't give a shit.  Oh, did I mention I don't give a shit?]

So now that I've vented at least some of my pissy angst bullshit, I guess I'll help Steve fold laundry and then I'm gonna play a game on the computer.  Maybe it'll help me relax.

Later, Y'all.

The Irresistible Revolution, Living as an Ordinary Radical

By Shane Claiborne.

My friend Lindsay loaned it to me last night [and I passed along, “The Story We Find Ourselves In,” by Brian McLaren.

Lindsay wondered last night as we visited if maybe my crisis of faith has less to do with Jesus and the truth of the [Christian] Bible and more to do with the fact that I have no idea what authentic Christians look like in real life.

See, I know what we believe, but I have no idea what living that faith out looks like in real life because, quite honestly, I’ve never seen it.

And if I, a person who has been steeped in American Christianity and its church have no idea how real Christians act, then it’s probably safe to say that very few people outside the church have either.

The first time I read Acts [which talks about the day to day of the early church] I was amazed at how they lived, and wondered why the people in my church didn’t act more like that.

See, the early church shared equally in what they had, the rich and poor were all on equal footing, and each person gave their time and resources to help out the poor, orphans, widows, prisoners, etc.

When’s the last time I shared my lunch with someone who had no food? When’s the last time I went through my closet and took the extra clothes, shoes, and coats to a place where the poor could have access to it. Or better yet, when’s the last time I sought out a homeless person and bought them lunch, or gave them a coat, blanket, or pillow?

I never have.

Matthew 25:31-37; 40

The Sheep and the Goats
31″When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. 32All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

34″Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

40″The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

41″Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

44″They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

45″He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

46″Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

It didn’t say anything about who you put your faith in during those verses, only that you will get what you gave to the poorest of the poor.

It’s also interesting that he wasn’t referring to the preachers/pastors of the world, but to all of us. We should take care of the poor because it’s the right thing to do [thanks, Doug], not to avoid eternal punishment, ’cause frankly, who gives a shit about when I’m dead?

I mean really, can I do one thing to change the reality that I will find on the other side of death? Well, according to this passage, yes, but if it’s all a big fib invented by people to make them feel better about death, then what?

I can’t change the truth of the afterlife, whatever it is, but I can change how I treat my fellow humans while I’m here on this earth. And that is where I have to go with my questions of faith, I think.

Maybe if I put into practice what Jesus said in the Bible, instead of just learning it and admiring him and the disciples for living a life of love, I will really find what it means to follow Jesus.

No more lip service, you know? No more tolerating my own hypocrisy. No more judging the rest of the Christians for not doing what I’m not willing to do either.

Yup, I think where the revolution starts is inside my own heart, and in my own behavior. There are homeless people in my city, just like there are in most. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll find out where they go to get help, and go meet a couple. Maybe I’ll volunteer. Maybe I’ll spend a night on the street to see what it feels like to be alone, homeless, and abandoned. Maybe I’ll look at a homeless person and not see and smell an unclean body, but maybe I’ll see the image of God within him or her. Maybe I’ll see a person who deserves all the love I have to give and more.

Maybe I’ll see the reason God came to earth by looking at the people no one sees.

Tonight we were coming home, and as we turned to go under an overpass, I saw a man with bushy black hair, a long, unkempt beard. He was too thin, and his clothes didn’t quite fit right. It looked like he was gesturing, maybe having a conversation with an unseen partner. He shook his hands and paused under the bridge, looked up, and stepped out into the rain.

After we got home, I asked Steve if he’d seen the homeless man under the bridge, and he said no.

That man deserves to be seen and loved just as much as my kids do [and they’re quite wonderful;-)]. The children in Iraq who are dying because of the bombs and lack of medicine caused by our sanctions against Iraq after the first gulf war, deserve to be safe, happy, fed, and well, just like my kids do.

Gandhi said that there is enough in the world to fill every one’s need, but not every one’s greed. The early Christians shared everything they had and took care of the poor among them because they loved God, loved others, and followed Jesus.

God, forgive me, a sinner. I deserve nothing, yet you came to show me a better way to live. Help me follow that example.

I’m A Damn Slacker, I Tell You!!

And I ain’t talkin’ pants, either! Nope, I got nuttin’ tonight. Except another lack-of-food headache [I’m working on that one though, and trying to direct my deliberately obtuse husband to put together a sandwich for me.

You ever play dumb trying to be funny? That’s Steve right now. He’s a real freaking comedian tonight. And now he’s kissing me goodnight, thinking he gets to sleep ’cause he has to get up at five in the morning.

Heh.

Yeah, so that’s it tonight. I’m working on something, but I don’t have my brain around it yet, so g’night, dear friends!

Headache

Started as your typical tension/lack of food headache and turned into a monster chewing on the front left lobe of my brain. 

Hurts like a mutha.

I took a migraine pill, one of the samples my doc gave me.  I hope it works quick.

In the meantime, I'm trying to get the kids to bed so I can go to sleep [we just had supper at 10 p.m. because we went to the church to decorate for our special service Friday.

I think it's going to be really neat.  

Wish my head didn't hurt so much, though.

Sorry this isn't more, I'll be better tomorrow.