Ongoing Adventures in Semi-Conciousness

Earlier, Tempest said her neck hurt and asked me if she could use the, "Little pink back massager".
"I don't have a back massager."
"The one in your bedroom drawer, mommy!"

... oh. Right. The 'back massager'.

No sweetie and please stay out of mommy and daddy's special drawer.

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I'm so proud of all we've done with the kids' room and the house this last week, I feel like showing off. Except no one gives a care except us, which just leaves me feeling empty. Drat.
Regardless, we have done a ton of work. The house is starting to look like an adult's home instead of a home infested with children. There are no longer piles of toys all over the livingroom, puzzle pieces stuffed in corners and cars all over the floor just waiting to be slipped on. We have an entire bookshelf to ourselves - full of books! No toys! We managed to clear Xan's clothes out of our room, as well. The difference is incredible.
There's a certain feeling of amazement when you reclaim your living space as "toy free". I don't think we've had a room that looked like this since we were married.
It suddenly made me realize that we've never spent a night away from the kids since Tempest was born. Seven and a half years. One of these days we need a trusted overnight babysitter (and a bunch of money) and have an honest-to-god date night.

We're alarmingly short on money for the holidays, so there's been a mad dash to the finish line to find some gifts for the family. Getting my brother to go halfsies on an expensive gift for mom was no problem, as he's always trying to edge his way into doing that with me seeing as he can't admit he doesn't spend enough time with her to have any clue what she wants.
I'm getting her two things: a thorough maid service that will deep clean and help her organize her place from top to bottom, and a spa day with massage and aromatherapy, et all. None of this is paid for yet, as it's by far the most expensive. We're working on it.

Brother emailed me and asked if I can take a picture of us together seeing as the last professional image we have of the two of us was from Christmas of 1990. I guess that's his gift.

Curtis and I don't often do major gifts for each other, so I'm getting a bunch of cool plugs (ears) and then planning on a frazzled last minute search for something more appropriate. His birthday is the day before Yule and we're going out to dinner together using his credit for a free evening that he gets as an employee of the hotel/restaurant. It's half cheap (Because we can't afford a nice dinner) and half nice (because it is the best hotel in the city and their kitchen is top rated). However, it does get weird when every little waitress comes by to be cute and say hello when we're trying to have a romantic evening.
(Curtis is forever the "relationship guy" wherever he goes because his workmates always think he's gay - so his female coworkers are always taking him aside and crying about their boyfriends, asking for advice... he becomes that safety guy that they all want to talk to. I find this hilarious because he is the least likely person to give advice, is painfully shy, and always ends up coming home looking like a lost puppy.)

Tempest is getting a really lovely Berenguer baby doll with a crafted doll bed and stroller; complete with clothes and bedding that we're making from crochet and knit projects. Curtis is doing the blanket now.

Xan... we're still not sure on. You'd think he'd be easy but he's not.

Tempest and Xan together are getting an Invent-a-Tent set. I am so freaking excited about it. Dad is also making them a bunk bed with built in shelving.

Marika has a beautiful piece of custom-made jewelry and some books, but I'd still like to get her more.

At the same time I'm attempting to knit two bags and a few pairs of socks as additional gifts. This is not going well.

The last major obstacle are the stocking stuffers and little things. In our family it's tradition to stuff the stockings with a lot of stupid toiletries (mini shampoos, samples, tissue paper, et all) along with silly toys and candy like Jacob's ladder, Terry Chocolate Orange, those little pocket mazes with the tiny sliver balls...
Mom used to hit Chinatown for this stuff and come back with buckets of random stuff.

I'm so out of sorts for the holidays. Even though I'm having an easier time in some ways, in others it feels a little like my perfectly sealed bucket of mental health is starting to spring leaks. I spent most of yesterday and today paralyzed with mysterious panic attacks that seemed to have absolutely no trigger at all. No amount of self-searching is leading me to find any reason other than, "Gee, it must be the holidays".

At the very least, the mania is making me creative: I've stayed up all night long the last week to edit a huge amount of client sessions, written lists of inspirational business notes, ideas, and started revamping my marketing for the new year.

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Some more client pictures. ( Read more... )



Links of the day:
Twilight, Disney and the purity myth - a very interesting (if too short!) essay on the obsession of virginity, and how it subjugates (young) women's sexuality.

So the reason I haven't been posting here lately is because I started a new blog (sorry lj). As most of you are aware, lj is teh dead. I only ever come here anymore to keep up with the few friends that still update, and to read my postsecret feed. Otherwise I post about my meaningless existence. Therefore, I've created a blog where I keep track of things I'm interested in, and things that other people might be interested in reading. I don't expect anyone to actually read it regularly, but it's there in case anyone is interested.

This doesn't mean that I'm going to stop posting here forevers, just probably not often.

Oh, and here is the link to my other blog: http://theotherwhitegirl.blogspot.com/

( Huge photography post )

Hours of work and a ridiculous idea that came to me months ago... our Yule card:




( And outtakes )

This is going to sound like a shameless "I'm so great", but really it's a shameless, "She's so great".

Mark it on the calendar: yesterday was the first day Marika had a full blown teenager 'tude blow up over a rule we laid down. ( Mom-ish gushing )

Anyone want a cool toy and help our holiday fund this year? I'm selling my Palm Pilot (z22) now that I have an iPhone. ( ON HOLD - thanks! )

I am finally not sick anymore. This is huge: I have been sick for an entire fucking month. In celebration: we have done lots of shit. This is also helped significantly by the fact that I just had my pain medication dose raised. The pain has been getting progressively worse since August; at first I thought it was just a 'bad period' and kept watch on it, but eventually it got worse and worse until the last two weeks were filled with continuous, horrific back spasms. I had to stop going to yoga because it hurt so bad I couldn't get through the hour without crying.
It's amazing how much the pain takes from you: the world seems worthless when you can't control it. It's so hopeless; lying in bed and knowing you've done everything you can think of, taken everything in the house, and it just won't stop.

It's never "gone"; I just want it tolerable for long enough periods that I can function and "do things". I spend so many days going beyond my limits doing menial tasks like cleaning, or two sessions in a row, and paying for it by having to lay down in bed for six hours, writhing in pain and bawling. When I'm having a good period, or it's under control, I only have to be down for 2-3 hours and it's just moderately uncomfortable rather than agony.
This is one of the reasons why it is so aggravating to hear people say things like, "If you do yoga/acupuncture/chinese medicine/cocaine everything will be amazing" and "did you know xxx person had an [extremely mild or misunderstood form of] what you have and they're totally fine? Don't label yourself!".
I wish it was that easy. But it isn't. Chronic pain isn't a joke: it's a nightmare. Sometimes I just want to tell everyone to shut the fuck up unless they've been in this boat. And your sore knee doesn't count.

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With the Bah Humbug out of the way...

Yule season has officially started. For the first time, I think I can say with confidence that I'm okay this year. Not just okay, but... anticipating it. Despite the horrific pain that completely ruined last year, cutting what was otherwise a glorious holiday season short... it was actually a pretty good time.
Even better: I remember it.
I still have no idea what the fuck is between my head and Christmas, but since I started recognizing Yule things have been slowly getting better. As they get better, my head keeps more and more of the season. Several years in a row I can recall: which is huge by comparison to, well, every other year prior.

When we went out "tree shopping" a few days ago, and the kids piled out of the car holding their cheeks and screaming, "Yes! TREES!" like it was the best thing they'd ever heard of, I had a little squee of joy inside me for the first time in as long as I can remember.
To say the holidays just don't do it for me is an understatement; they traumatize me even when they're normal and great. I have no explanation, excuse or even some whacked out story I can make up. I know absolutely nothing. It's one of those mystery triggers I have yet to dig into. I assume one day I'll find the bones and drag them up to the surface for examination and research; but not yet, I guess...
Either way: I'm happy that I'm okay, and I don't much care about the details right now.

On the other hand, as soon as we brought the tree home Marika burst into hysterical tears. She misses a mom Christmas. She wants 'old mom'. Not crazy mom. Mom that doesn't send her emails that say things like, "I would love to be talking to you about what's going on but I guess you don't want that huh? Whenever you remember that you have a mom, you can give me a call" that I have to advise her to ignore because there's just no way to respond to the "k-k-k-krazy lure" without immediately making the situation worse.
She didn't want to decorate, and seemed uncomfortable at the very idea when we brought it up. We waited until she was gone to do it. She did participate in the sugar cookies and gingerbread house, at least.

She's left to spend the entire weekend with Dad as part of a new "weekend dad" schedule. This excites her in a way that would expect of an eight year old: who would have thought that at fifteen the whole 'weekend parent' routine would still be fresh and interesting? Though, to be honest, some of my best memories are during that long three-hour drive to and from my parents homes. As crazy as it sounds: I loved it all.
I loved weekend parents, I loved that they were divorced, I loved that my dad was in love again with people he cared about (even if sometimes it didn't work out) and I loved my parents more separately than I ever did together.
Seeing Marika have a chance to finally 'weekend dad' makes me happy. It makes me happy seeing her so happy; knowing that she's finally getting to know him the way I do. The way she's missed out on for this long.

That's all behind you now.

The last week has been taken up with an organizational clusterfuck. For one: Xan has completely potty trained (knock on wood) and hasn't had an accident in several weeks now, so we're crossing our fingers that this is "it". We officially put away, threw away and gave away his entire diaper stash. Gone. Nada Zip. All done.
No more wiping hugs smears of smelly, flakey toddler crap out of the depths of his crevasse.
And I will never, ever miss it.
He's also been able to spend most nights sharing a room with his sister without issue. He still gets up 1-2 times a night to pee, or tell us he needs a "cuddle" or argue that his bed isn't good enough... but it's getting there. We finally attacked "Their" room and organized it. This included buying shelves, baskets and buckets for toys; sorting, sifting, trashing, building, drilling, Craigslist-surfing, curbside dumping and cleaning (floors, walls, doors and windows) until the whole thing was a brand new scene. It looks absolutely nothing like it did before and both the kids were so excited to see the new room that they literally jumped up and down screaming.

I can't wait to give them the bunk bed that my father is making them for Yule.

Once the room was done we didn't stop there: we reorganized and cleaned the livingroom both in preparation for the tree, and because we just cleared out a huge amount of kids' toys so we could reclaim our livingroom for OURSELVES, then listed and prayed for a billion things to sell on Craigslist (scanners and printers, PDAs and pianos - oh my!) and reorganized the mudroom so there's actually space to move around.
Somewhere in-between all this, I also managed to bring two potted plants back from the dead. Because once I'm on a roll, there's no stopping me.

Tonight was our first night alone, and after the kids were asleep we celebrated by buying alcohol and watching anime on the couch. Doing absolutely fucking nothing but sitting around drinking and enjoying each other's company.
And edit photos.

( A metric fuckton of photos )