Yesterday's post may have been a wee-tad overly dramatic. Ahem. That's what happens when you get stream of consciousness then push "Publish Post."
In addition to my flair for the dramatic, I also have a slew of other neuroses. Shall we get right to it?
1) I have self-diagnosed attention deficit disorder. I can rarely finish a task without coming back to it (save diaper changes and other must-do-now kidlet related tasks).
-When I actually get up the nerve to clean the house, you can guaran-damn-tee that I won't finish unloading the dishwasher before I go wipe down the coffee table, then change the laundry, while picking up and dropping things off randomly around the house.
-This annoys Warrior to no end, shaking his head and sighing at me, because he's actually good at cleaning AND he manages to stay focused and finish each task one at a time.
-It's almost as though I can't finish a task because the thought of what I'm doing (i.e., actually CLEANING, something I'd rather NOT be doing) is too much for me to bear - so I need to break it up into small bits so that the task doesn't seem so ominously LARGE.
-I get distracted by shiny things, loud noises, and the sound of my brain ticking.
2) I'm a yeller. I was the designated loud person in my family growing up, which had it's rewards and punishments. I loved calling all three of my siblings to dinner, but at the same time, I got spanked for yelling up the stairs once when my brother was a sleeping infant. I can kind of get that now, but holy hot hell, can you say mixed messages?
-I have for the most part curbed this behavior over the years, mostly at Warrior's insistence, because he don't roll like that. I DO NOT want to be The Mom That Yells At Her Kid.
-Sometimes this behavior slips out because...
3) I can be a bit of a hot head. There are times when a rage sprouts up inside me and it takes everything I have to keep it down. Blow ups DO still occur, but on a much smaller scale than they used to.
-I was the Queen of the bottled-up rage as a teenager.
-Now I don't bottle it up (much) and have extricated toxic people from my life to help facilitate this. (I've also worked on it in therapy and stuff.)
4) I have had anxiety of the "I'm not good enough, I'm not smart enough, and gosh darnit, nobody likes me" variety.
-Occasionally the evil voices of self-doubt still spring up on me when I am least expecting them.
5) I have had anxiety on the social functions/crowds/panic attack spectrum.
-My first panic attack was when I was 16. I was Christmas shopping with my older sister at a Wherehouse Music store when it all got to me - the lights, the warm store, the people - and I had to get the eff outta there as my heart was pounding, my breathing became rapid and my head started spinning (NOT literally, people, geez!).
*
I'm already losing my focus here (actually I've been back and forth on this post for an hour now, so...), I JUST realized my coffee is in the microwave (I found peas from last night in there when I put my coffee in), and...wait, what was I saying again?
Oh yeah, this edition is closed. For now. I can't promise more of them. But, I WILL NOT BE ASHAMED OF MY NEUROSES. (Even if they ARE slightly embarrassing.)
Thanks to all mah Crackah friends for your support yesterday. I DID find the marker, and Little Man DID get in a (fairly) good nap. Life could have sucked more, that's for sure.
8.13.2008
Unveiling My Neuroses (aka, The Cracker In Me)
7.02.2008
From the VDog School of Cracker Home Repair
Let's say that you're a Cracker. Maybe your name happens to be VDog. And maybe you don't always do things the smart way.
Let's say you had an eight pound bag of ice that had melted together. For the sake of the story, let's also say that you wanted to break those bits of ice apart so that you could actually employ said ice to cool a tasty beverage.
Let's say that you have a husband named Warrior. Let's say that he gently reminded you on several occasions that ice should be broken outside on the concrete.
Let's say that you have a baby to watch, and gosh darn it, you don't *feel* like going OUTSIDE. With the baby AND the bag of ice.
Let's say you see a very promising corner to bang that bag of ice on. So you do. Repeatedly. Until holy shit the Warrior's gonna kill me you crack the drywall and take a big chunk of the corner off.
What do you do?
Let's say your first thought is DUCT TAPE! But no, that would just look ugly.
Like a good Mommy, you dress the wound with a sterile bandage and then tape over the wound with some delicious blue painter's tape. Yeah. Sounds like a great fix.
Hopefully Warrior won't notice. Ahem.
This is for all of you asking, WTF is a Cracker? What do you mean by that? Well, folks. This. Is. It.
VDog: Serving up daily doses of Crackerness since 2006, when the original three Crackers realized they were ones.
11.05.2007
Truly Fascinating Subject Matter
My 100th post! I guess I'm "supposed" to do the great "100 things about me" post...let's see how far I can get. I'm also guessing that these "things" are supposed to be interesting...we'll see about that. HA!
1. I started dating the Warrior when I was a wee eighteen years old.
2. I got engaged to the Warrior at twenty-two years old, the fall after I graduated from University.
3. I got married to the Warrior more than six years after we started dating. I was twenty-four.
4. I met the Warrior through my friend, and his roommate, LouDog.
5. I am six, nearly seven, years younger than the Warrior.
6. I got butterflies when I met the Warrior. I thought he was cute, in a nerdy, glasses-wearing kind of way.
7. I had to convince Warrior to date me, because I was "too young" for him.
8. I said, "I love you" first. It just came out. He later told me that he could have said it after two weeks (TWO WEEKS, people!! I'm that damn good.) and it would have been true.
9. I'm still a bit peeved that he kept me waiting if he meant it earlier.
Speaking of peeves (back to Warrior later, I'm sure), I hate:
10. The expression, "pet peeves."
11. The word, "panties." They should ALL be underwear. It's like, "ooooh, PAN-ties." I think it's a sexist term, and it just makes me want to ralph.
12. When businesses don't have a website. I need to do research, people!
13. The expression, "teacher's pet." Hated it since grade school.
14. Internet Explorer (most of the time)(firefox RULZ).
15. Vista (blows my bloomin' arse).
16. Doing the dishes.
17. Folding laundry.
18. When my baby has a fever (right now it's 102.7 F). :(
19. How short the days are now (darn time change!).
20. Being late. Sadly, it is an all too common occurrence now that I am a mom.
21. Writing Thank You notes. I still have about 10 million to write for gifts from Little Man's birth. Ten months ago. Um, yeah. I have a serious problem. Sorry to all of my dear friends and family who have not received a note yet. Your gifts are truly appreciated. Truly.
22. The anxiety I feel when I think about un-written Thank You notes. (So why don't I just write them already??)
If you couldn't tell, I am:
23. A MAJOR procrastinator. If it can be done tomorrow, why not do it tomorrow?
24. Generally fairly messy. But clean. If that makes sense.
25. NOT a perfectionist. I got over that a looong time ago. I strive for a B+. And when that fails, a C will do.
26. Truthful to a fault at times.
27. A Sagittarius (see #26).
I am also:
28. Born in the year of the Goat (Sheep?? Something like that).
29. The second of four kids.
30. One of three sisters.
31. A voter.
32. Registered to "no party" since I can't fully commit myself to what the major parties believe in.
33. Liberal (it is Cali after all).
34. The daughter of two Libertarians. Until my Mom went Democrat in my teens (blame Bill).
35. Fatherless. He died of lymphoma when I was 19.
Some of my favorite foods are:
36. No-meat burritos. Repeat after me: beans (pinto), rice, cheese, sour cream, guacamole (a little hot sauce is good, too).
37. Nachos (like, the real deal, no Taco Bell stuff).
38. Carnitas burritos (a recent conversion; get this with black beans & lots of hot sauce).
39. Salt & Vinegar Potato chips.
40. Regular Potato Chips (another recent conversion, due to my elimination diet. It was like, the only "bad" food I could have).
41. Chocolate Mousse (a bonding point with Warrior -- our shared favorite dessert!).
42. Cereal (anything with granola clusters is always good).
43. Fried chicken tenders with...
44. French fries. Regular, curly, you name it, I like it.
45. Onion Rings.
46. Guacamole.
47. Avocado Rolls.
48. Chicken Terriyaki.
49. Pad Thai.
50. Any kind of curry dish -- red, green, yellow, don't matter.
51. Tom Ka Gai and Tom Ka Artichoke soups.
52. Broccoli.
53. Mangoes.
54. Papayas.
55. Cottage Cheese.
56. CHEESE! Roquefort, Brie, Cheddar, Jack, Manchego...mmmm. Damn elimination diet!
57. Chicken Satay w/ peanut sauce, mmm....
58. Peanut Butter (on toast, toasted bagels, sandwiches all w/ creamed honey, mmmm).
59. Chocolate.
60. Ice Cream.
I think I should stop the food category because:
61. I am a gourmand/foodie. I could go on and on about food.
62. Beautiful salads anyone? (a fruit, a nut and a cheese w/ balsamic vinaigrette, mmmm)(sorry I couldn't help myself).
63. Wine.
64. Margaritas.
65. Malibu & (usually diet) Coke.
72. I can be extremely apathetic.
85. I don't "get" Burning Man and will probably never go.
87. Warrior thought I was a "Santa Cruz hippie" when he first met me because I dressed up as one that first Halloween that we knew each other (before we were dating). Cracker.
89. I have never been to a screening of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." I have no desire to go at this point in my life, either (See: #85 and #86).
93. My hair changes color. Not usually naturally. Heh.
94. I am five foot four and three quarters. But I'll say I'm five-five and call it even.
95. My driver license lies.
96. I was extremely depressed for many years of my life. I am happy now. And I work hard to stay that way. Motherhood and hormones makes this hard.
97. I like to "help" people to a fault. I will give you advice on something you are trying to buy, whether you are a friend, or a stranger in a store. This annoys Warrior to no end. He thinks I should butt out. This also extends to "helping" in personal and familial relationships. You can't help those that don't want to be helped. I've learned to curb that for the most part.
98. When I want to do or buy something, I research the heck out of it. I spent an INSANE amount of time researching strollers and cribs and the like.
99. I am slightly addicted to the Internet. But I'm getting better.
100. It took me over five hours to complete this (what with feeding the baby, getting him to bed, dealing with a fever -- now up to 103.6! JOY!, etc.). I can't believe I have finished!
If ANY of you made it through this, PLEASE let me know. I will be eternally grateful. I will also let you know how LM is doing tomorrow. We see the doc in the morning. My poor little boo!
(I guess this post could also be called: Profile of a Cracker: #2.)
8.15.2007
Profile of a Cracker: #6
LIKES: Golf, Guinness, Barbecuing, Beating my husband at Tiger Woods Golf '07
DISLIKES: Losing to my husband at Tiger Woods Golf '07, running out of beer
AWESOME RANDOM FACT: When told about "Crackerness," asked if he could be Cracker #1
Cracker #6 is truly a special guy. Where others spell their name with an "I," number 6 uses a "Y." #6 is totally comfortable in his own skin (and his own Crackerness), something we should all aspire to.
We met #6 in the NICU, where our boys were roommates. #5 and #8 shared a room for two weeks, the longest we had ever roomed with anyone. #7 (#6's wife) and I had been getting to know each other during the day. When our husbands came that night, #6 was ready to make some new friends. We found out that we lived fairly close to each other, and when I said that we didn't have any friends in the area with babies, #6 said, "Well, you do now!"
Awesome. Just awesome. There weren't that many couples like us in the NICU -- on the younger side, able to have Mom at the hospital all day, having a "wimpy white boy" -- and the one other couple that was like us (and had also been a roommate), wasn't friendly at all. In one small gesture, #6 formed a bond that will last a lifetime.
It is a very tough experience to have your (first) baby in the hospital for weeks on end. It is an experience that is impossible to describe to someone else -- the feelings, the worries, the setbacks -- and to have friends who went through the same thing makes getting along in the world OUTSIDE of the hospital SO much easier.
Little Man was VERY lucky. He was born at 32 weeks and "only" spent four weeks in the hospital. #8 was born at 27 weeks and spent TEN AND A HALF WEEKS in the NICU. The strength and courage of #'s 6 & 7 truly amaze me to this day.
#8 came home from the hospital two and a half weeks after #5. Those early months home were made much more enjoyable by our friendship fostered by #6. We understood the limitations and "corrected age" expectations of our boys, and our complete germ-phobia from what we call "The Fear of The NICU." So we were free to socialize with each other, when we were all too afraid to socialize with anyone else. Or the world in general.
#6 is the one who suggested we finally (GASP!) take our boys out in public for a ball game. He is also King of the Tailgate, coming fully prepared with BBQ, beers and chairs. He can make anyone feel welcome at his parties (tailgate or otherwise) with his open smile and friendly demeanor.
I haven't fully been able to point out #6's specific examples of Crackerness, in fact this profile has been a bit of a love fest, but rest assured, #6 is a TOTAL and COMPLETE Cracker. We like him that way. Thanks for joining the crew, #6.
8.02.2007
Profile of a Cracker at 7 months
You are now seven months old, #5, and oh what a Cracker you have become. You are definitely taking after your comrades in Crackerness. Your Uncle Cracker, #3, has been schooling you in the art of the break off (like ralphing all over me at the most opportune moments). Your Dad and I, #'s 1 and 2, respectively, are trying to teach you how to embrace your inner Cracker and be yourself, even if this means farting in front of company and downloading a doozy in your pants. #4 is trying to hold it all together for the rest of us, bringing in the sweetness and light (and her own particular style of Cracker as well). Our friends #'s 6 & 7 bring over your friend and NICU roommate, #8, for play dates, and to assure you that you're not the only Cracker baby.
Let's talk about your eating...you definitely do that Crackah-style. You used to breastfeed, like, ALL THE FRICKIN' TIME. #7 even asked, "is there ever a time that kid's (that being you, #5) NOT on your boob?" Yes, it was that serious. I have never known a kid that has EVER eaten as much or as often as you.
Then one day, you just weren't as interested. Too much other cool stuff to check out. "No problem, I can always eat later," seemed to be your attitude. And so we started solid foods...
Your previous fervor for the boob has now transferred to eating solids. You scratch and claw at my hand, trying to bring the spoon to your mouth. At first, you totally dug the rice cereal. Then we tried avocado, and there was no going back. Now you won't even open your mouth for rice cereal, only avocado. Smart boy. Definitely Crackah-style. Why have something good when you could have something even better?
Your general demeanor is definitely different from a lot of other babies I see as well. Apparently your Crackerness is inherent. You writhe so wildy and with such fervor that sometimes we think something's wrong with you. But it's probably just because you're a Cracker, just like Mom and Dad.
At Gymboree, you move unlike any of the other babies there. And your shrieking -- MY GOODNESS!!! THE SHRIEKING!! -- would cause any "normal" parent to seek help. But I think it's just your normal Cracker glee coming out. I think you scared some of the other moms there AND made them thankful that they don't have to parent a little Cracker.
But you are the perfect Little Man for your Father (pronounced FA-zha) and me. I love you so completely and with all of my being. You are MY Crackah, and I love you for being you, you crazy little bunbuns.