Tuesday, August 16, 2011

In for a penny, in for a… pickle?



That? Is a KING JOHN penny. Like, my husband. Jon King! I’m so punny.

(is pun even the right word for that? it’s my blog so I don’t care.)

We spent a lovey night in San Diego Saturday. We were going to go Friday, but when we were driving down we had to give Russell a bowl because he looked like he was going to barf and, unfortunately, we gave it to him just in time for ALICE to barf all over. A seemingly endless rice and gingersnap vomit waterfall. Needless to say we headed home. On a side note, he never did barf. I have no idea what trick the universe was playing on that one, since she didn’t barf again, either. Mostly it just threw our weekend off a day and we missed church. Barf will do that.

More Pictures:


All taken at Professor Pennypickles in Temecula. You might remember the place from the road trip slideshow last march, but this time Russell and I took Alice and Daddy, too. That place is one of our favorite places on EARTH.

Seriously, skip Disneyland next time, and head to Temecula

I had a post up this weekend that I took down. I liked the post, something was just bugging me about it. I think I lack some perspective this summer. Or I’m trying to over-perspective everything. Either way, I know things feel harder then they actually are right now, and someday I will look back on this and think it wasn’t bad, it was just long and weird. A limbo summer.

I feel more qualified to write this one, I guess. I’m feeling a little better… I had a great session with my therapist! It was better than a massage AND a pedicure. Seriously, GO GET ONE. Stephanie is the best therapist I’ve ever had. She’s like a kindred spirit, only she’s older than me and has the word DOCTOR attached to her last name so she’s totally allowed to boss me around and tell me when I’m being a jerk to myself or <cough>jon<cough>.

What she and I agreed on, is that I am in the healthiest depression of my life. Woo-hoo (ish)!! She and I have both had depressions where you welcome it in like a friend, wrap yourself up in the blanket of self loathing it brings with it, and eat trashy food together until 2 in the morning.

You know what? I’m doing good. This is the first depression I am asking to stand over there. I have a thing, a wiring, or a chemical predisposition of some kind, whatever it is, I’m not going to invite it in anymore, but I’m also not going to close my eyes, plug my ears and yell “I can’t hear you!”  and I’m certainly not going let it stand in my living room making a giant sculpture of all my greatest past failures and future fears so when I finally look up? I will have to drive my car off a bridge. 

This time is different. I’m healthier than I’ve ever been in my life, physically my IC and endometriosis are totally in check and I haven’t had a kidney stone in years, which is a victory all by itself! Emotionally I’m in a healthy marriage with two great kids that are as easy and as hard as most other peoples, I have great girlfriends next door or a phone call away coast to coast, and I’ve made a certain peace with the need for medication that anyone in this family seems to have at the moment. This depression is different for me because it was triggered by rage.

I live like most moms, like a racehorse with blinders. Working harder than I’ve ever worked in my life, determined to do this whole charmed life thing right: I’ve got my new and improved california self, a nice man, a golden boy, a pink baby, and a cat. The bulk of the reading I do these days is checking the ingredients on the back of the spaghetti sauce or cheese crackers when I’m in the grocery store, and the most exercise I get is chasing Russell down the street demanding he wear a helmet on his bike.

We’ve found ourselves in a battle for a home that I think is worth every ounce of effort, and as hard as this house thing is, I feel like I am fighting a totally worthy battle. If the house wasn’t a crazy short sale we never could have  afforded it. Period. The fact is, we’ve put everything on the line to get this house, and right now, this is the part where I am paying more than money for it. Fortunately, I’ve always had more willpower than money, so in that way I can afford it, where some people may have had the dough-ray-mee, but not the gee-u-tee-ess.

(GUTS :)

The kids and I do art every day, we read together, cook together, and sometimes (often) do nothin’ together. On top of it all, I haven’t abandoned my religion even though I’ve tried to many times. I RECYCLE. What’s worse than a kitchen trash can that needs to be emptied? TWO of them. We use energy efficient light bulbs, I have “sisters” in Afghanistan and Nigeria that I support learning work skills, and I joined a book club. That’s the kind of stuff I mean when I say I was like a racehorse with blinders, determined to BE ALL I CAN BE, and DO ALL I CAN DO.

I was scared and depressed when we moved our family and my pregnant self to California, but I also really, REALLY, wanted to be here. I had that baby, put one foot in front of the other, found doctors for our family’s ADHD epidemic, and after a couple years, lost 70 pounds and found some footing. When cottage preschool closed and I lost the one place I felt like I could take Russell and leave him (and my worries about him) behind, I was sad and thrown off balance, but we got out our picnic basket and climbed that mountain, too. Sure, I’ve never worked so hard, but my family just seems to get better, and better and BETTER.

And then Debi died, and I don’t mean to bring this up again, except I was so angry. I couldn’t stop being angry, and I loved her and I’ll miss her, but there really are a lot of other people whose lives will never recover completely from that loss, and I needed to get a grip. This was no longer about just my friend and her husband. Anger is just not a usual deal for me, and everything about losing those two awesome people was so stupid, and suddenly everything seemed STUPID, and my friends who can’t get pregnant while teenagers pop out babies on tv is STUPID, and the way I never stop spinning my wheels is STUPID, and doing dishes is TOTALLY STUPID.

About 6 weeks ago, Alice and I got smashed by something called a rogue wave so massive it was on the news later that night. We weren’t even in the water, we were standing by a rocky ledge looking for beach crabs about 15 feet away from where the last bit of the waves were crawling up the shore.  I was taking a picture and thought, “wow, that huge wave is not slowing down.” When I looked up and saw the wall of water stretching as far down the beach as I could see, all I could do was throw Russell up the rocks, command him to run, then grab Alice and secure ourselves to the nearest boulder. We were engulfed in a violent slam of roaring saltwater. When it receded there was a man running toward us from the nearby Ocean Institute, his face was white and all he said was “I have never seen anything like that. I thought you guys were gone.”



Alright already. I get it, Universe! I am full of all these complex emotions and dreams and plans and schedules, and as far as you’re concerned I BARELY exist. And the little people you allowed me to make in my body like a freaky science experiment that I can no longer live without? I am all that stands between them, and being swept out to sea.

And that’s how I’ve felt for about 4 weeks. The anger was thick like garlic mashed potatoes, and the blog was more like a blah-g, with half hearted attempts to boost myself out of the dumps. I stopped shaving my legs and cooking dinners from scratch, and opted for pants and the drive thru at Boston Market where the kids and I can split a chicken pot pie for four dollars and fifty nine cents.

But it is all perspective. Sooner than ever before, I can feel myself on the waning side of this particular rogue wave. I’ve never worked through a depression so quick. I’ve written a few posts that will never see the front side of this here blog, and I removed that last one. Not because they said anything wrong, but I knew they were half written by me, and half by the rude voice my depression talks to me with. I don’t mind sharing with whoever has the time or interest to read these long rants, but I would like to feel like it’s actually me talking.

Which, now I’m done doing. Sorry, this post has no real ending. I would say “To Be Continued…” to sound all mysterious, but let’s be real, with an ADD mom that's a pretty open ended promise.

Oh, and right after I took that above picture and almost died, I enrolled Russell in swim classes. That’s my next post, but I must say I think we have found our Russell Whisperer in the waters of the Irvine aquatic center. He’s a FISH.


kateastrophe said...

Why am I awake right now? Probably because I needed this. Remember that talk we had about wondering why life has to PROVE it's hard? It got harder...but I'm OK. And I needed this because it helps me be OK.


Andrea said...

*Ehugs* Love you