Monday, June 22, 2015
Well, Tim was never a tool guy. He didn't use them growing up and he doesn't use them now. Even though somebody gave him a tool set when we got married and Tim's dad said to keep them in the car (I still don't understand that one) he never used them and doesn't ever know where they are. (Regardless, my husband is awesome. This is not a Tim bashing post... there will never be one of those.)
But I love tools. I love sanding things and sawing things and nailing things. I built the shelves in my big closet, in Ilse's closet, and in my bedroom closet. I love carpentry. I love hanging pictures, whether or not I do it correctly. For years I'd slowly been accumulating some tools. I had my own hammer that's not allowed in the garage and I had a few boxes of nails. But **my tools always disappeared.** I could never find them because someone else always used them and then lost them. Chris actually rusted a whole set of screwdriver bits because he dropped it in the sink and never told me or dried it off.
The other day I just couldn't take it anymore. I reached the end of my rope. The rust incident was the straw that broke my camel's back. So I spent the $21 and bought myself a tool bag.
I filled it with all manner of tools. I love it. It is mine. It makes me happy. Yes it's pink; I'm a girl. No one else is allowed to use it. Hopefully, never again will I search in vain for a tool. "This is my [toolbag]. There are many like it but this one is mine." Full Metal Jacket.
The first nightmare was disturbing because it featured me looking my dad in the face and not recognizing him, but that was nothing compared to the second nightmare.
I dreamed that I entered a contest on KCBI, one of the local Christian radio stations. I was one of four who entered, and Tim was another of the four. The contest involved fitting the right number of thumbs into a small space and then being x-rayed to see if we did the right number and if they were positioned clearly. I was holding Ilse in my left arm per usual and had chosen to smash two fingers into the space. I had a hard time holding the position but the radio person kept giving me extra chances. Finally it came down that Tim and I won if we could answer the final question.
The guy asked me to describe our finances and I told him we didn't have any savings, etc. I sounded pretty decent but way too bright and cheery. I think it was early morning by that time as the contest had begun in the middle of the night. Then the guy asked me to solve an equation that was something like 1500(2) + x = ??. Except I didn't hear the whole equation because I was so drowsy my mind wandered in the middle, so by the time the radio host got to the end and was waiting for me to answer, all I could come up with was "I can't do math!" in a fake southern accent... I sounded as stupid as the two following women:
In fact I sounded more stupid. I knew I sounded stupid but I couldn't fix it. I didn't try to explain. Then the radio host moved on to Tim and he got the answer correct. Of course he did, because he's not quite as exhausted as I am apparently. Then we were off the air and the radio host told me he wanted to speak to me. He said that he was sorry he sounded so hard on me, and that's when I explained my life to him. I told him I have a disabled husband, a son with mental health issues (in my dream I told him the whole story about that), a child with a syndrome, etc. I told him I know how to do math but I was too out of it to realize I could ask him to repeat the question because I'd dozed through it. He was sorry but of course there was nothing he could do to repair my reputation, but at least he didn't think I was as stupid as I'd come off.
Then we were walking out and my parents met us just off the staging area. Mom said someone had hugged her and said, "I'm sorry" to her for how dumb I was. And my poor dad was just in disbelief. Mom said that this was the best I'd ever looked and most fluent I'd ever spoken on camera and it was too bad that I'd just come of as.... (she paused) stupid.
Then I woke up.
I didn't even get the satisfaction of hearing how much we'd won.
I still haven't gotten over that dream. It made me feel impotent (first definition, not the second) and ridiculous.
I hope I don't come off that way in real life. I hope I can continue handling my life (with God's help and a huge helping of grace).
Monday, May 25, 2015
I'm compelled to walk a fine line when I want to be honest about something. On one side of the line is the honesty that is phrased so gently and tactfully that it can't possibly hurt any reasonable person's feelings. On the other side is brutal honesty. Sometimes I feel cheated because my whole life I've stayed on the gentle side of that line. I don't get to let out my honest feelings very often at all. I don't say a lot of things because they seem hurtful to some random aquaintance or because I know something in someone's history that makes me not want to come down with an opinion or statement about various issues. But that leaves me feeling shuttered and alone. If I don't say things then no one can identify with me. If I don't say things any prayers for me will be pretty vague. And while the Lord knows everything, of course, I'd still like the freedom to be a little more honest.
But when I think of things I'd like to be honest about, my mind goes blank and I realize that not only do I not currently have any thoughts in my mind that I can articulate, but that I'm conscious of a deep void where those thoughts used to be.
And that void exists because I'm just so weary. I keep trucking along and put a good face on it, half the time because I don't want people to worry and the other half the time because I am so forgetful and 'thoughtless' that I really am ok. I've forgotten what's wearying me and bothering me. And that's pathetic. So pathetic.
All that to say that I'm going to try to move a little closer to the line in the middle of what's honest. I'll never intentionally hurt someone's feelings. But I'm going to be more honest of what I feel and things I need.
Monday, March 16, 2015
Friday, March 6, 2015
This time I decided that I'm going to bed at nine at night, no matter what has or hasn't been done. If Ilse still needs a feeding, too bad; I'm going to bed. She is fat enough, she will be just fine. I might put her on the pump, but it just will have to depend on if she is awake or asleep.
I've been so sleep deprived for so long, and I've started to notice some scary effects. The other day I couldn't remember the name of a lady at church. I couldn't remember my uncle's name. And then our nurse Angie came over and I was looking at her but I didn't recognize her. I thought she might be a lady from church, but I wasn't sure.
I need to get some sleep before it's too late and something really bad happens.
So the past two nights I've tried to go to bed at nine. The first night I totally failed. Last night I made a real effort but still didn't get to sleep until around 11. Still, this morning I felt so much better. Tonight maybe I'll make it by nine.
I need to do this for myself. I used to think that moms had to serve their families non stop, rising early, staying up late, never tiring. Not true. It is true that moms have to take time for themselves or they will go kaput. So I'm doing this for myself. I can't wait to feel more rested.
Also, I've renewed my gym membership. I'm looking forward to getting to do a bit of walking. I used to walk around the lake every morning, but with the bad weather I haven't been able to. I won't have to worry about the weather at the gym. I'll take my phone and head phones and just mentally relax. It sounds so nice.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
I've had a heavy heart lately. My husband got his long-desired teaching job this year and he has been working late a lot of nights. I told him to do what he has to do; I'll keep the home fort and I'll let him know if it starts burning. So far we're fine, but I do miss him. I'll be very happy when he gets to be home more.
Mostly my heart has been heavy because of Joey. He has been having so many painful struggles. We had some neuropsychological testing done, and it turns out that he's severely depressed and anxious. It was recommended to us that we pull him out of his mainstream class at school and not allow him back in for the rest of the year. The school has been slow on scheduling an ARD and so we agreed to send Joey back to school if he was kept out of that classroom. Today they put him back in for a short period of time without my permission, so now he will be home until the ARD. The pediatrician (love her!) was not happy and sent a very strongly worded note to the school excusing Joey until the ARD is done. A friend is going with me on Friday to the ARD. I'm so thankful for her. I'm not good at face to face confrontation (can do it online all day, lol) so I'm going to have to steel myself and make sure we get Joey what he needs to be successful. Thankfully I have a lot of friends backing me up.
My Chris is the one with the front row seat to Joey's mental health issues. He is so self controlled... I can't imagine what he's feeling. He's not expressing any of it.
The Lord is merciful and we hold onto him during the hard times. Some times are harder than others but the Lord is always there.