Live in the Gray

Isn't life fickle? I am constantly feeling the pull of the beauty and tragedy of life, as you have seen many recent posts reflect. I guess my obsession with exploring this idea is that it is so underrepresented in conversation, media, and even in the way we construct who we are. We like to think that people are good or they are bad; ugly or pretty; nice or mean; happy or sad. Isn't it really all of these? You're nice and you're mean -and you know it. I'm looking pretty good right now (both physically and emotionally) but talk to me on Thursday night and I was feeling ugly (yes, both physically and emotionally). I find these beautiful moments in every day peppered in with very difficult times. I find myself feeling ever so sorry for myself because I don't have enough money to buy myself two sweaters. (Because...waaaahhhh....I really wanted it and it looked really cute on me). I literally walk to my car in the shopping center parking lot with a bag full of goodies and feel depressed that I couldn't buy more. I sit with that emotion for a moment and allow myself to feel it. Quickly I become wrought with guilt over my lack of gratitude for what I have. I take the time to notice the pretty fabric I have tied to the top of my homemade apple butter. I pause with thankfulness for the fact that I can not afford to buy everyone presents this year. I reflect on how this has forced me to use my creativity to make presents; I breathe in fresh lemon curd. And while I try to keep this emotion, I walk past my pantry. I do not stop to think how thankful I am to have a full pantry, I complain that I'll never have a big house, that I don't have enough space, and that I'll die trapped in this mortgage on my depreciated condo.

Reflecting on the need for gratitude doesn't make it happen. It's a long process, I know. I need to remember that. There is much life to live and really, I have nothing but time. I give myself permission to feel; to feel sad one moment, and still laugh. To feel depleted, disappointed, and hurt, and still enjoy the smell of beets cooking in my kitchen. It's not just one emotion, ever. There is no black and white. It's okay to live in the gray. I'll stay here a while.

I've Been Up all Night...

There wasn't an hour that went by last night that I did not see. That is to say, I was awake when my clock said 11, then 12, and 1, and 2, and yepper-doodle even 3, 4, and 5. By 5:43 I just gave up. My tiny little screaming barnacle (Georgia, that is) had an absolutely TERRIBLE night and by proxy, so did I. She nursed on and off constantly, as soon as I dozed off to sleep she let out a scream. Teething? Bad cold? Visions of sugar-plums dancing in her head? My arms and hands were constantly asleep due to the contorted positions I had gotten myself into, just to make her comfortable. I know intellectually something must be wrong for her to be so restless.

I visualized her wearing a little sign that said "I'm hurting" (a toddler-trick a friend taught me) and it worked for a while. I used my patience (just as I always tell her to do). But soon, her little "I'm hurting sign" began to read "I hate you mama - wake the hell up! You'll never sleep again, accept it!!!!" Surely you are aware that sleep deprivation is a form of torture that has been highly contested even for terrorism suspects. But I am not a terrorist, I'm just a teacher. Can't someone give me a break already and let me freaking sleep? (Perhaps I should involve Home-land Security, does anyone have Janet Napolitano's phone number?)

So, after this wretched sleepless night, I sent Georgia off with Don, filled with rage, frustration, and true true exhaustion. I lay in bed for 15 minutes trying to sleep but it was useless, I had worked my self into a tizzy. I walked into the living-room to get my laptop, dragging my feet with a scowl on my face. Don said "Whatcha doing?" and I snarkily responding "I'm looking for my freaking laptop." He asked "Why not sleep some more?" This really enraged me, "I CAN'T sleep, I'm too frazzled from NOT sleeping the ENTIRE night!!!!" I looked for my laptop getting more and more angry about how he had slept the whole night and how I never do! He quickly retreated into his tortoise shell knowing that I might physically attack soon.

As I turned to walk out of the room, a tiny voice said "Hi mommy" and all was forgiven.

Tiger Whaaah?

So, who cares about celebrities right? Well obviously most of us do or we wouldn't listen over and over again to the ridiculous stories that somehow are classified as "NEWS." Our beloved Tiger Woods (or Tigre Madera, as we call him around the house) has been embroiled in much controversy since his 2am crash near his home. I know you are all wondering about what I think about the incident so, I thought I would weigh-in.

What's so strange about the accident that makes us think something is going on? Last night Don, my loving husband went out for some, um....icecream, at 2am. I was at the top of our long driveway, that leads away from our mansion and I heard a loud crash in OUR driveway. I did what any swedish super-model would do and I grabbed a golf club and went running down our driveway fully clothed (I don't sleep and I don't wear pajamas). When I arrived at the bottom of our LONG driveway I saw that Don had crashed into a tree, so I did the normal thing and smashed the holy crap out of the back window of the car and scratched his face up like an angry cat whose food is being stolen by a rogue squirell. NO, the air-bags did NOT deploy. So what? I RESCUED him and you are questioning me? This kind of stuff happens all the time. It's completely normal. Look away! Look away!!!!