I'm breaking up with Blogger.
I've decided to haul all my rants over to Wordpress because I was feeling like a change. Spring is in the air! So feel free to go check it out, as I won't be posting on this site anymore after this. Having said that, it'll probably be a little while before I finish tweaking everything so don't be surprised if it looks completely different from one day to the next. Hopefully you're not as easily confused and distractable as I am. Oh look, a duck!
I hope to resume regular posting tomorrow. Look forward to another detailed account of the exciting drama that surrounds bedtime around here. I may even crank things up a notch and talk about what digested cardboard looks like after it comes out the other end of a baby. Wouldn't that be fun?
To go to the new and (almost) improved Angus Diaries, click here.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
If it ain't broke...
As you can see, I've royally screwed up my blog. I was feeling like a change, but then I found that I don't like any of the Blogger templates.
And the picture, the picture of Angus' cute little feet, WHERE DID THE PICTURE OF THE FEET GO? Lost somewhere in the Internet.
I'm just kind of irritated by it all right now, so I'll just leave it for now.
And the picture, the picture of Angus' cute little feet, WHERE DID THE PICTURE OF THE FEET GO? Lost somewhere in the Internet.
I'm just kind of irritated by it all right now, so I'll just leave it for now.
Why don't these things come with instructions?
Another Sunday morning! Daylight savings today, which I completely forgot about. I think the computer sets it forward automatically, but for some reason it's still on BC time, so it says 4:37am and since we're four hours ahead, that would make it 8:37am. But I'm not sure if the clocks were set forward, so it could be 7:37am or even 9:37am for all I know. On my old laptop, I don't even think I ever changed it from Australia time.
I figured out a brilliant way to entertain Angus; put all his toys on the bookshelf and park him in front of it so he can pull them down. At first I would park him in front of the bookshelf and just let him destroy all my magazines but I started to get concerned about the amount of paper products he was consuming. This works much better. I can't believe I used to think a bookshelf was for BOOKS.
This is what he's doing right now, squealing with delight as he discovers yet another prize on the shelf. Little does he know these are the same old, boring toys he's shunned in the past!
So last night was night three of sleep training. This is a new technique by a lady known as "The Baby Whisperer." Her approach is much gentler than the cry-it-out (or "Ferberizing") approach, yet more firm than the "attachment" approach (Dr. Sears' approach -- co-sleeping.) I figure it's a happy medium. I've tried everything else already.
I've always nursed him on demand because at the beginning I subscribed to the whole attachment theory, but it's now come back to bite me. He's STILL nursing in the night every hour to two hours. I have not had a night of restorative sleep in over ten months! I miss out on that REM sleep that everybody raves about, because I don't ever get the chance to sleep for long enough. It's amazing that I'm even able to tie my own shoes. The other day, I apparently forgot to rinse the shampoo out of my hair, because I got out of the shower and there were suds behind my ear. I couldn't even remember if I put conditioner in. So yeah, the sleep deprivation is starting to get to me. At ten months, he's old enough to not need to eat in the night! I'm thinking it could be contributing to his obesity.
So, I've half-heartedly tried the cry-it-out approach, but I've always felt that it's not for me. It hurts my heart to hear him cry like that. I just can't do it. A few times I've just not gone to him, simply out of pure exhaustion, and he's fallen asleep pretty quickly, but it doesn't always go like that. Most times he gets himself so worked up he chokes. And now he gets himself up on all fours and rocks back and forth while he cries, which I think interferes with that whole getting comfy and falling asleep thing. It's heartbreaking, so I'm trying an approach that lets him know I'm there for him, but teaching him that at night, it's sleep time, it's time to SLEEP not time to EAT!!! I learned that he cries in the night, not out of hunger, but out of frustration at not knowing how to get himself back to sleep. So now it's all about teaching him the skillz.
So, this approach is called P.U./P.D. which means "pick up, put down." Sounds tedious and exhausting, doesn't it? Well, it is. Basically, when the baby cries, you pick him up, but you put him back down AS SOON as he stops crying. You do this as many times as it takes for him to fall asleep. Eventually he runs out of steam. This can take around a 100 each time he wakes up. Can you imagine how infuriating that is to a baby? It did work, the few times I did it. But by the fifth time of doing this in the middle of the night, of hauling my almost-30-pound kid out of his crib and putting him back down, again and again like a jack-in-the-box, I WAS EXAUSTED. I couldn't do it anymore. Tracy Hogg (R.I.P.), your theory, is great if your kid is small to averaged size, and if he wakes up less than 20 times a night.
So my problem now is inconsistency, which is probably confusing the hell out of Angus. By the midnight wake-up (usually the fifth one) I simply can't pick him up anymore, so I try and ignore him for a bit, which enrages him and eventually he just comes into the bed and gets what he wants. It's just so much easier.
We must be making some progress though, because I've been walking around with a Pamela Anderson chest the last few days as my milk supply adjusts to fewer feedings.
I think my approach from now on will be to NOT pick him up. His crib is right next to our bed, so I can just reassure him with my voice.
I thought books would be helpful, because I'm the kind of person who likes to follow EXACT instructions to get an EXACT result. But it seems that babies aren't like that. Apparently they have personalities? It's a learning curve for me as I try to tune in to HIS little personality and find what works for him, rather than trying to find the answer in a book.
Mummy needs some good sleep soon, though. I just watched Angus pick up a potato chip off the floor and eat it and I was too unmotivated to go and stop him. At least it's food.
I figured out a brilliant way to entertain Angus; put all his toys on the bookshelf and park him in front of it so he can pull them down. At first I would park him in front of the bookshelf and just let him destroy all my magazines but I started to get concerned about the amount of paper products he was consuming. This works much better. I can't believe I used to think a bookshelf was for BOOKS.
This is what he's doing right now, squealing with delight as he discovers yet another prize on the shelf. Little does he know these are the same old, boring toys he's shunned in the past!
So last night was night three of sleep training. This is a new technique by a lady known as "The Baby Whisperer." Her approach is much gentler than the cry-it-out (or "Ferberizing") approach, yet more firm than the "attachment" approach (Dr. Sears' approach -- co-sleeping.) I figure it's a happy medium. I've tried everything else already.
I've always nursed him on demand because at the beginning I subscribed to the whole attachment theory, but it's now come back to bite me. He's STILL nursing in the night every hour to two hours. I have not had a night of restorative sleep in over ten months! I miss out on that REM sleep that everybody raves about, because I don't ever get the chance to sleep for long enough. It's amazing that I'm even able to tie my own shoes. The other day, I apparently forgot to rinse the shampoo out of my hair, because I got out of the shower and there were suds behind my ear. I couldn't even remember if I put conditioner in. So yeah, the sleep deprivation is starting to get to me. At ten months, he's old enough to not need to eat in the night! I'm thinking it could be contributing to his obesity.
So, I've half-heartedly tried the cry-it-out approach, but I've always felt that it's not for me. It hurts my heart to hear him cry like that. I just can't do it. A few times I've just not gone to him, simply out of pure exhaustion, and he's fallen asleep pretty quickly, but it doesn't always go like that. Most times he gets himself so worked up he chokes. And now he gets himself up on all fours and rocks back and forth while he cries, which I think interferes with that whole getting comfy and falling asleep thing. It's heartbreaking, so I'm trying an approach that lets him know I'm there for him, but teaching him that at night, it's sleep time, it's time to SLEEP not time to EAT!!! I learned that he cries in the night, not out of hunger, but out of frustration at not knowing how to get himself back to sleep. So now it's all about teaching him the skillz.
So, this approach is called P.U./P.D. which means "pick up, put down." Sounds tedious and exhausting, doesn't it? Well, it is. Basically, when the baby cries, you pick him up, but you put him back down AS SOON as he stops crying. You do this as many times as it takes for him to fall asleep. Eventually he runs out of steam. This can take around a 100 each time he wakes up. Can you imagine how infuriating that is to a baby? It did work, the few times I did it. But by the fifth time of doing this in the middle of the night, of hauling my almost-30-pound kid out of his crib and putting him back down, again and again like a jack-in-the-box, I WAS EXAUSTED. I couldn't do it anymore. Tracy Hogg (R.I.P.), your theory, is great if your kid is small to averaged size, and if he wakes up less than 20 times a night.
So my problem now is inconsistency, which is probably confusing the hell out of Angus. By the midnight wake-up (usually the fifth one) I simply can't pick him up anymore, so I try and ignore him for a bit, which enrages him and eventually he just comes into the bed and gets what he wants. It's just so much easier.
We must be making some progress though, because I've been walking around with a Pamela Anderson chest the last few days as my milk supply adjusts to fewer feedings.
I think my approach from now on will be to NOT pick him up. His crib is right next to our bed, so I can just reassure him with my voice.
I thought books would be helpful, because I'm the kind of person who likes to follow EXACT instructions to get an EXACT result. But it seems that babies aren't like that. Apparently they have personalities? It's a learning curve for me as I try to tune in to HIS little personality and find what works for him, rather than trying to find the answer in a book.
Mummy needs some good sleep soon, though. I just watched Angus pick up a potato chip off the floor and eat it and I was too unmotivated to go and stop him. At least it's food.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Still learning about this whole Internet deal
Thanks to Natasha for showing me how to to add a video to my blog. Now I'm going to try it out!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Early Spring Morning on Jubilee Avenue
Angus has started doing this thing where he wakes up every morning at 5:30. It's so frustrating, especially after a night of NO SLEEP (and last night he fell off the bed in the middle of the night -- hey, first time for everything!), but then the sun comes up and I look out the window and my heart swells with hope and renewal. It's -8 degrees still, but -- SUNSHINE!! There's just something about early spring that I LOVE. The appearance of sunlight at 6am after a gloomy, slow, winter of waking up when it's still dark out, fills me with promise and hope of things to come. This family has had it's share of setbacks lately, but the appearance of spring brings the PROMISE of something better. I can't help but feel excited and elated for what's to come, whatever that may be.
The birds have been flying into the windows, which is unfortunate for them, but it's just another sign that spring is springing!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Thoughts on the music of today.
Man there is a lot of shitty music out there. I made the mistake of turning on the music channel this morning to see a bunch of hysterical girls throwing themselves at these puppets on stage with what looked like pretend guitars. Apparently they're the Jonas Brothers? Apparently they're a big thing? I shouldn't say anything, because at age 13 I was hysterical over the Backstreet Boys, with posters of Nick Carter on my ceiling. I even camped out at the mall to get tickets to their concert.
SHHHHHHH!
What really scares me though, is this particular song. I had to find the lyrics to confirm just how ridiculous it sounds. What are they teaching young women of today? To act slutty and get wasted and taken advantage of, is what it looks like to me. And why the hell would you WANT a guy that looks like Mick Jagger? Is it cool to brush your teeth with a bottle of Jack?She can't even spell TICK TOCK right.
I don't get it. Am I getting old?
Ke$ha aka Kesha with Tik Tok
Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
(Hey, what up girl?)
Put my glasses on, I’m out the door - I’m gonna hit this city (Let’s go)
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
Cause when I leave for the night, I ain’t coming back
I’m talking - pedicure on our toes, toes
Trying on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up our phones, phones
Drop-toping, playing our favorite cds
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy
[CHORUS]
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
Woah-oh oh oh
[Chorus]
Ain’t got a care in world, but got plenty of beer
Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here
Now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick ‘em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger
I’m talking about - everybody getting crunk, crunk
Boys trying to touch my junk, junk
Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk
Now, now - we goin’ til they kick us out, out
Or the police shut us down, down
Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us -
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
And now, as an antidote, here is the song that's stuck in my head. They're local Nova Scotia boys, in fact Aaron used to hang out with the drummer when he was a kid. I wish I could put the video right in my blog, but I have no idea how I would do that, so here's the link. You've probably heard it before, but I'm about a year behind everyone else.
SHHHHHHH!
What really scares me though, is this particular song. I had to find the lyrics to confirm just how ridiculous it sounds. What are they teaching young women of today? To act slutty and get wasted and taken advantage of, is what it looks like to me. And why the hell would you WANT a guy that looks like Mick Jagger? Is it cool to brush your teeth with a bottle of Jack?She can't even spell TICK TOCK right.
I don't get it. Am I getting old?
Ke$ha aka Kesha with Tik Tok
Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
(Hey, what up girl?)
Put my glasses on, I’m out the door - I’m gonna hit this city (Let’s go)
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
Cause when I leave for the night, I ain’t coming back
I’m talking - pedicure on our toes, toes
Trying on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up our phones, phones
Drop-toping, playing our favorite cds
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy
[CHORUS]
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
Woah-oh oh oh
[Chorus]
Ain’t got a care in world, but got plenty of beer
Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here
Now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick ‘em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger
I’m talking about - everybody getting crunk, crunk
Boys trying to touch my junk, junk
Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk
Now, now - we goin’ til they kick us out, out
Or the police shut us down, down
Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us -
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party don’t stop no
Woah-oh oh oh
And now, as an antidote, here is the song that's stuck in my head. They're local Nova Scotia boys, in fact Aaron used to hang out with the drummer when he was a kid. I wish I could put the video right in my blog, but I have no idea how I would do that, so here's the link. You've probably heard it before, but I'm about a year behind everyone else.
I am Superwoman
This is the little turd FINALLY napping after screaming bloody murder because he got his leg wedged in the crib rails up to his thigh. This picture is taken after he threw a fit and pulled the curtains down and then passed out.
Ahhhhhhhh.
That's the sound of my brain relaxing. I now have a clean house. I cleaned like a crazy lady yesterday. How come I always forget that cleaning can be therapeutic? Turn on some loud music and you can really get into it! I even rearranged all the furniture around. I have this compulsion to move furniture, I don't know, to improve the Feng Shui or something.
So after my cleaning purge yesterday, I collapsed and had a nap with Angus and then cooked lasagne for dinner, and then wasted the evening in front of the TV with Aaron. It made me realize that I CAN do it all. I CAN clean and be a parent and work. I just have to admit that I'm a lazy person and need to get my arse moving. I spent all of last week (what did I even do??) NOT cleaning ANYTHING and procrastinating on my work that I ended up scrambling to get done at the last minute. Why do I do that? I think I might be manic. No really. Last week I felt very depressed and unmotivated and overwhelmed by even the smallest thing. I moped and slothed around for an entire week. My method of dealing with everything was avoidance. (That doesn't work, by the way.)
The yesterday I accomplished everything with the energy of a mother taking her kid's Ritalin. (Sorry, bad analogy. I assure you I'm not on any drugs.) I don't know WHERE the energy came from, and I felt so happy and excited that I couldn't contain it. And then when I was done I just crashed and felt kind of depressed and irritable by the end of the day.
On Sunday when I turned my work in I emailed my boss and asked her if I could have the week off (I couldn't bring myself to actually quit, which is probably a good thing.) and yesterday when I was feeling like Superwoman, I emailed her again and told her that I actually WAS available. And then I spent the rest of the evening having a panic attack that she would think I was a complete lunatic (which might be accurate.) When she got back to me, she was very nice and joked around with me and we emailed back and forth, and we're, like, BEST FRIENDS now. She told me I was her favorite transcriptionist, because of my personality. (I didn't know personality could show up in emails!) As it turns out she's only 22! This got me thinking, if she can be a reflexologist AND have her own company when she's only 22, why can't I be a mom and have MY own transcription business?
Anyway. Moving along.
I've been meaning to write a letter to Angus, but I haven't got around to it yet. The thing that's holding me back is the awareness that there's going to be a lot of talk about his love of my boobs, and since I want to give him these letters when he's grown up, I'm worried that it'll embarrass him. But they are his favorite thing right now, so I don't know how I can avoid talking about it.
Last night after his 12th nursing session in the middle of the night, I clumsily went to put him back in his crib, but being that I have absolutely no grace at the best of times and was not very awake, I completely missed the crib, and rammed his head right into the crib rails. I screamed, and Aaron thought I had dropped him. He cried for a minute and then went right back to sleep, but then I couldn't sleep because I was worried that I had knocked him unconscious and caused him brain damage.
I really need to get him a helmet.
By the way, it's snowing. SNOWING. IT'S MARCH!!!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
You bring home the bacon, I'll fry it up.
Yeah. I'm gonna quit my job.
I've just spent the whole morning neglecting my child so I can get my work done. I'm glued to the chair with my laptop in my lap, trying to keep one eye on the roving little monster. At one point I looked up and he was slithering in behind the DVD player and came out with BLACK SHIT in his mouth. Does anyone know if eating dust bunnies is hazardous? I'm pretty lenient when it comes to him eating diaper boxes and his board books, figuring paper products are just a source of fibre. But I think I draw the line at dust bunnies. I gave him a straw to distract him. I think that's a safer option. (If my father-in-law is reading this, he's probably twitching violently. Never met a more fastidious man! Hi Chris! Don't worry, I was just kidding about letting Angus lick the soap scum off the shower curtain.)
I started working from home because I was rebelling against the whole stereotype of stay-at-home mom. At first I was happy to play house. I was thrilled with our new place when we moved in and all I wanted to do was cook and clean. But, the novelty wore off and soon the reality sank in at just how monotonous and soul-sucking it is to do nothing but wash dishes and clean the floors and cook and change diapers day in and day out. I became so desperate to do something else.
But now I realize that when I was being created, I missed out on the multitasking gene that most women/mothers supposedly have. Since working, the house has gradually slid into a disgusting kind of chaos. I joke about it, but it actually really gets to me. My mother always said, "A cluttered house is a cluttered mind." My mother is full of wisdom. I usually don't listen to her and then she turns out to be right and I wish I had listened to her.
Anyway. My point is, some women can do it all. I have no idea how they do it. Some women manage it all and have MORE THAN ONE kid. Baffles me. I have a friend who has two boys still in diapers and another one on the way! SHE'S CRAZY!! But she does it.
I am not going to pretend that I can do it all. I simply can't. Someone has to keep the house running and someone has to cook and someone has to nurture this little growing person. Plus, when I started working, Angus was napping for a total of five hours during the day and he was still a little lump that couldn't move. Now. NOW. NOW he naps for two hours IF I'M LUCKY, and he is most definitely on the move, AND that whole Velcro baby thing that I mentioned. Now he expects me to engage with him and pay attention to him.
Mothering doesn't come naturally to me. I often forget that I'm supposed to be offering Angus food. (I KNOW, I KNOW.) Sometimes it doesn't occur to me to change his diaper for about six hours.
So as you can see, I really need all my brain power just to not fuck up my kid.
I've just spent the whole morning neglecting my child so I can get my work done. I'm glued to the chair with my laptop in my lap, trying to keep one eye on the roving little monster. At one point I looked up and he was slithering in behind the DVD player and came out with BLACK SHIT in his mouth. Does anyone know if eating dust bunnies is hazardous? I'm pretty lenient when it comes to him eating diaper boxes and his board books, figuring paper products are just a source of fibre. But I think I draw the line at dust bunnies. I gave him a straw to distract him. I think that's a safer option. (If my father-in-law is reading this, he's probably twitching violently. Never met a more fastidious man! Hi Chris! Don't worry, I was just kidding about letting Angus lick the soap scum off the shower curtain.)
I started working from home because I was rebelling against the whole stereotype of stay-at-home mom. At first I was happy to play house. I was thrilled with our new place when we moved in and all I wanted to do was cook and clean. But, the novelty wore off and soon the reality sank in at just how monotonous and soul-sucking it is to do nothing but wash dishes and clean the floors and cook and change diapers day in and day out. I became so desperate to do something else.
But now I realize that when I was being created, I missed out on the multitasking gene that most women/mothers supposedly have. Since working, the house has gradually slid into a disgusting kind of chaos. I joke about it, but it actually really gets to me. My mother always said, "A cluttered house is a cluttered mind." My mother is full of wisdom. I usually don't listen to her and then she turns out to be right and I wish I had listened to her.
Anyway. My point is, some women can do it all. I have no idea how they do it. Some women manage it all and have MORE THAN ONE kid. Baffles me. I have a friend who has two boys still in diapers and another one on the way! SHE'S CRAZY!! But she does it.
I am not going to pretend that I can do it all. I simply can't. Someone has to keep the house running and someone has to cook and someone has to nurture this little growing person. Plus, when I started working, Angus was napping for a total of five hours during the day and he was still a little lump that couldn't move. Now. NOW. NOW he naps for two hours IF I'M LUCKY, and he is most definitely on the move, AND that whole Velcro baby thing that I mentioned. Now he expects me to engage with him and pay attention to him.
Mothering doesn't come naturally to me. I often forget that I'm supposed to be offering Angus food. (I KNOW, I KNOW.) Sometimes it doesn't occur to me to change his diaper for about six hours.
So as you can see, I really need all my brain power just to not fuck up my kid.
Friday, March 5, 2010
I'm a thinker, not a doer.
I need some accountability today.
I intended to get a big chunk of work done last night while Aaron was at fire practice and Angus was in bed. I got distracted by TV. LA Ink was on! I couldn't miss that! And then American Idol! And then a new episode of LA Ink, followed by Hoarders. Yeah. Work? Didn't happen. I even attempted to bring my laptop in front of the TV and work during commercial breaks, but when the commercials came on I found myself completely forgetting to work, even though my laptop was on my lap and my head phones were on. Durrrhhhh.
Do you have any idea how much extra time I would have in my day if I didn't watch TV? Let's be honest here -- the REAL reason we wear two-day-old socks (I just bought a pack of 20 pairs of socks so I wouldn't have to do laundry), the dishes sit in swamp water for three days and my unfinished work nags in the back of my mind constantly, is because of the hours spent zoning in front of the TV. And it's not like I watch quality programming either. No. Well, sometimes we watch the History channel and actually learn something. But my favorites, I will admit, are the reality shows. I'M the reason these awful shows are on TV.
I curse the TV for being such a time suck. I'm trying to imagine what Aaron and I would do if you took TV away from us in the evenings. Talk? Pay attention to our child? Clean up the house? Exercise? Go for walks? The mind boggles. However, I like TV because I get to participate in things without actually DOING them. Take Survivorman. Would I ever purposely get myself lost, alone, for a week in the Amazon/Labrador/Alaska/Papua New Guinea, would I ever eat scorpions/seal blubber/seaweed, would I ever drink my own pee, would I ever dog-sled with my fly open? Probably not. But I like to think my life is enriched from having watched someone else do it.
I intended to get a big chunk of work done last night while Aaron was at fire practice and Angus was in bed. I got distracted by TV. LA Ink was on! I couldn't miss that! And then American Idol! And then a new episode of LA Ink, followed by Hoarders. Yeah. Work? Didn't happen. I even attempted to bring my laptop in front of the TV and work during commercial breaks, but when the commercials came on I found myself completely forgetting to work, even though my laptop was on my lap and my head phones were on. Durrrhhhh.
Do you have any idea how much extra time I would have in my day if I didn't watch TV? Let's be honest here -- the REAL reason we wear two-day-old socks (I just bought a pack of 20 pairs of socks so I wouldn't have to do laundry), the dishes sit in swamp water for three days and my unfinished work nags in the back of my mind constantly, is because of the hours spent zoning in front of the TV. And it's not like I watch quality programming either. No. Well, sometimes we watch the History channel and actually learn something. But my favorites, I will admit, are the reality shows. I'M the reason these awful shows are on TV.
I curse the TV for being such a time suck. I'm trying to imagine what Aaron and I would do if you took TV away from us in the evenings. Talk? Pay attention to our child? Clean up the house? Exercise? Go for walks? The mind boggles. However, I like TV because I get to participate in things without actually DOING them. Take Survivorman. Would I ever purposely get myself lost, alone, for a week in the Amazon/Labrador/Alaska/Papua New Guinea, would I ever eat scorpions/seal blubber/seaweed, would I ever drink my own pee, would I ever dog-sled with my fly open? Probably not. But I like to think my life is enriched from having watched someone else do it.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
He feeds himself.
I gave him this can of toddler food, (which are little puffs full of preservatives and sodium) because I had run out of things to entertain him with, and he managed to get the lid off and dumped it all over himself. He's not interested in toys. Brightly colored, plastic, beeping playthings? SO not fun. But scissors and a plastic bag? LOADS OF FUN! So far today I've let him play with my laptop case, an empty cigarette pack, a twist tie, my shoe, my purse, a sharpie, and a toothpaste tube. All completely unsanitary and unsafe. Whatever, I was supervising him. It's not like I'd ever actually let him SWALLOW a battery. Sheesh.
My break out role into television will be on the show "Hoarders."
Today I'm going to write about writer's block. Not very interesting, I know. But I feel like the only way I can get through the block is to just WRITE something. ANYTHING. I've tried writing in a Word document. I've tried writing in a notebook. But both times as I've stared at the blank screen or page, I've just felt as blank as the page I'm staring at. So I'm going to try the whole blog thing again. This is for myself, mainly, but somehow the idea of having an audience helps the words to come out.
I feel this pressing urgency to write about Angus. I know that this time in his life is so fleeting, and since I have the memory of an Alzheimer's patient already, I know that it's important to document everything, otherwise I'm going to forget! I don't want to forget anything! Already I know I've forgotten certain things from the last few months of his life, and that just makes me panic. The reason I write is so that I can hold on to these memories. It's the same reason those people on Hoarder's hoard things. They can't throw anything away because every little thing represents a memory of their life. Why are we so desperate to hang on to the past? I don't know the answer to that; all I know is that if I don't document everything in writing, I'm going to end up on Hoarder's. I'll be living in the last uncluttered corner of the house, wearing adult diapers because I can't find the toilet anymore. You'll find dead, flattened cats under piles of shit that have taken 30 years to accumulate.
Nobody wants that, now do they?
I should be working right now. I've been doing transcription from home for the last two months. At first, I was incredibly proud of myself for figuring out how to find employment from home, without any experience. I work for two amazingly nice people, who are reflexologists by day, and have a transcription company by night. They pay slave wages, but they're just so freaking nice, that I don't really mind.
I don't mind the work, because it combines what I like best; the English language, and not having to move much. I find something very therapeutic about typing.
But lately it's been losing it's appeal. Currently I'm transcribing a University interview with a dry, boring, uppity science major. I've done a lot of these, and it's the same boring old questions directed at the same narrow-minded, boring people. This particular student incites rage within me. She talks about how her father says of her and her three siblings, "As long as I have a doctor, a vet, an accountant, and a lawyer, my needs are covered." I want to climb into the computer, and slap this girl a little bit. She talks of how her parents are very encouraging of what she chooses to do, "as long as it's nothing artistic."
SLAP!
She even talks about how her mother got her bachelors in electrical engineering, and never used it! Now what is the point of that? I don't think it's the most important thing in the world to get a University degree. But then, I didn't even finish high school so I probably don't know what I'm talking about.
Anyway, supposed to be working. I have a very small time frame in which I can work; when Angus sleeps. It's about two hours during the day. Unfortunately, that's also the only time I get to myself, so I often all I want to do is surf the Internet and Google things like, "How to get rich without having to do anything." And stalk people on Facebook.
I complain about not having any time to do anything, and I complain about how the house is always a mess, but the real problem is actually probably my organizational skills. I am terrible at managing my time.
It takes me about two hours to wake up in the morning. I turn on The Mom Show and sit on the couch blinking, guzzling coffee and feeling hatred towards the morning, while Angus sits on the floor eating cardboard. By the time he goes down for his morning nap, I'm FINALLY awake and have stopped grumbling and swearing and bumping into walls. This is the time I start working, but then I get hungry, so I make breakfast and surf the net. By the time he wakes up, I haven't accomplished anything, and then the next three hours are spent entertaining or pacifying my Velcro baby. (That's a reference to the Separation Anxiety he is going through.)
Then he goes down for his afternoon nap, and I'm tired and I want to nap with him. Sometimes I do, and then hate myself afterwards because I didn't get anything done. Sometimes I "work."
Anyway, the point is, some people manage to shower and get dressed in the morning. Somehow I always miss that part because I'm too busy... doing what? I FEEL busy, so busy that it makes my head spin, but NOTHING IS DONE!? I don't get it.
The mess drives me mental, but I HATE HATE HATE housework. I feel like I'm always doing it, but it never gets finished. And the reason I hate it is because I never feel a sense of accomplishment. You do the dishes, but then you have to eat again and make more dishes. You clean the floors, and your husband stomps all over them in his dirty boots and you have to clean them again. You do laundry and your baby barfs on himself and makes more laundry. You wash the baby, and he smears food in his hair and have to wash him again.
IT NEVER ENDS!
I guess it's a fact of life. I know I need to just accept it.
Angus is awake. I kind of went off in a totally irrelevant tangent. I wanted to write about Angus but I just didn't get there. I almost said "and I haven't accomplished anything," but I HAVE! I broke my block.
As a chronic under-achiever, this is good.
I feel this pressing urgency to write about Angus. I know that this time in his life is so fleeting, and since I have the memory of an Alzheimer's patient already, I know that it's important to document everything, otherwise I'm going to forget! I don't want to forget anything! Already I know I've forgotten certain things from the last few months of his life, and that just makes me panic. The reason I write is so that I can hold on to these memories. It's the same reason those people on Hoarder's hoard things. They can't throw anything away because every little thing represents a memory of their life. Why are we so desperate to hang on to the past? I don't know the answer to that; all I know is that if I don't document everything in writing, I'm going to end up on Hoarder's. I'll be living in the last uncluttered corner of the house, wearing adult diapers because I can't find the toilet anymore. You'll find dead, flattened cats under piles of shit that have taken 30 years to accumulate.
Nobody wants that, now do they?
I should be working right now. I've been doing transcription from home for the last two months. At first, I was incredibly proud of myself for figuring out how to find employment from home, without any experience. I work for two amazingly nice people, who are reflexologists by day, and have a transcription company by night. They pay slave wages, but they're just so freaking nice, that I don't really mind.
I don't mind the work, because it combines what I like best; the English language, and not having to move much. I find something very therapeutic about typing.
But lately it's been losing it's appeal. Currently I'm transcribing a University interview with a dry, boring, uppity science major. I've done a lot of these, and it's the same boring old questions directed at the same narrow-minded, boring people. This particular student incites rage within me. She talks about how her father says of her and her three siblings, "As long as I have a doctor, a vet, an accountant, and a lawyer, my needs are covered." I want to climb into the computer, and slap this girl a little bit. She talks of how her parents are very encouraging of what she chooses to do, "as long as it's nothing artistic."
SLAP!
She even talks about how her mother got her bachelors in electrical engineering, and never used it! Now what is the point of that? I don't think it's the most important thing in the world to get a University degree. But then, I didn't even finish high school so I probably don't know what I'm talking about.
Anyway, supposed to be working. I have a very small time frame in which I can work; when Angus sleeps. It's about two hours during the day. Unfortunately, that's also the only time I get to myself, so I often all I want to do is surf the Internet and Google things like, "How to get rich without having to do anything." And stalk people on Facebook.
I complain about not having any time to do anything, and I complain about how the house is always a mess, but the real problem is actually probably my organizational skills. I am terrible at managing my time.
It takes me about two hours to wake up in the morning. I turn on The Mom Show and sit on the couch blinking, guzzling coffee and feeling hatred towards the morning, while Angus sits on the floor eating cardboard. By the time he goes down for his morning nap, I'm FINALLY awake and have stopped grumbling and swearing and bumping into walls. This is the time I start working, but then I get hungry, so I make breakfast and surf the net. By the time he wakes up, I haven't accomplished anything, and then the next three hours are spent entertaining or pacifying my Velcro baby. (That's a reference to the Separation Anxiety he is going through.)
Then he goes down for his afternoon nap, and I'm tired and I want to nap with him. Sometimes I do, and then hate myself afterwards because I didn't get anything done. Sometimes I "work."
Anyway, the point is, some people manage to shower and get dressed in the morning. Somehow I always miss that part because I'm too busy... doing what? I FEEL busy, so busy that it makes my head spin, but NOTHING IS DONE!? I don't get it.
The mess drives me mental, but I HATE HATE HATE housework. I feel like I'm always doing it, but it never gets finished. And the reason I hate it is because I never feel a sense of accomplishment. You do the dishes, but then you have to eat again and make more dishes. You clean the floors, and your husband stomps all over them in his dirty boots and you have to clean them again. You do laundry and your baby barfs on himself and makes more laundry. You wash the baby, and he smears food in his hair and have to wash him again.
IT NEVER ENDS!
I guess it's a fact of life. I know I need to just accept it.
Angus is awake. I kind of went off in a totally irrelevant tangent. I wanted to write about Angus but I just didn't get there. I almost said "and I haven't accomplished anything," but I HAVE! I broke my block.
As a chronic under-achiever, this is good.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
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