THE GOAT RODEO

Sick today. Vertigo. I can’t stand up straight. Probably an ear infection.

For the first time in a couple years I’m skipping it. I’ve got a day of running around like a loon today and there’s not a lot of time to get out the darn door. I only have enough time to tell you that Bear is not 100%, but is much better today.

It was a sleepless night of kids in our room, over and over. Yawn. They have no concept of “mom’s got doctors appointments, it’s time to sleep.”

A few words. Yesterday, our fourteen year old dog, Bear started coughing. A friend, a vet and not as funny as he thinks he is says it sounds like bronchitis, but to watch it closely. So we’re giving him a cough medication that was suggested and watching him like a hawk.

We love our Bear and worry about him. Fourteen ain’t no spring chicken for a doggie.

More Wordless Wednesday.

I watch my boys sleep sometimes. Not so much Gene-Gene and Steven anymore, but JJ and Herne now. The big boys deserve more privacy, although I check them too.

JJ’s still asleep. Late to bed, late to rise is his motto, although I hear some stirring as I type this. There is something sweet, gentle and safe about a home cozy with sleeping boys. Yet, it’s delicate. A dear friend of mine’s cousin lost all three of her boys two weeks ago in a house fire. They were staying with the grandmother and she tried and tried to get them out, but got so injured she could not go on. Their mother buried all her children a few days ago. All of them. Alone in the world, she has nothing left.

I think about that sometimes. The fragility of our pink bodies wrapped in fallible skin. It’s amazing boys grow up at all sometimes. They’re so loud and rumbley. Like a super ball dropped from the roof, they have a tremendous amount of bounce.

Still, when they sleep. When the house is quiet and I’m up, for various reasons, it’s safe and cuddly to peak in on them and know they are warm and safe in their beds. Dreaming of Santa and Christmas and lists and going to Grandma’s. Then, sneaking away and crawling back to bed with Gene, who wraps his arms around me, no matter how cold my feet. Life is precious and joyous in those moments. No worries, no fear, no anything, but deep breathing and tip-toe quiet.

Been doing a lot of thinking lately. About my obligations and where I’ve fallen down, kept it together. You know, the kids, me, my husband, my friends. Seems there’s more that I’ve mucked up in my life than done right for. Not depressed, just sort of sad and sorrowful today. Did my exercise obligation for myself, did my meditation, tried to clear my mind, but it’s a hard day for it. I miss Sue. I miss Mark. Maybe part of me misses the 320 pound woman I used to be, because nothing was expected of her.

Except to eat and be ridiculed.

My friend says I’m still the same person inside. Nope, I’m not. I’m far less forgiving of myself now. I have an obsession with food still, but now it’s not what’s for the next meal and panicking if I don’t have food in the cupboard, it’s panicking if I gain. So, the weight loss didn’t change me, it just changed what I panic about. Eventually, I will learn to not care about it at all, but right now I’m not there. I’m not going to get there fast either. I take a long time to learn life’s lessons.

My friend is also bothered by my placing my before photo on the net. She thinks I’m not listening to what she says about it. She’s wrong. I heard all of her reasons, “moving forward, letting the past go, I’m not that person anymore.” I listened and I absorbed, even if she thinks I didn’t hear her heart. I am that person still, only in a smaller package. The picture serves to remind me now and then not to take this for granted. Not the weight loss, but the stamina and strength I’ve gained. Before I was in a cocoon hidden from the world by a shell of cake and too much food. I faced my past pain with a full stomach. Now there’s nothing left to hide from. I go running and I think about the things that have gone on in my life, the sexual abuse, the loss, the mistakes, the major screw-ups and they cannot be blamed on being fat. Believe me, before I could blame anything on earth on being fat. Which means I have to face them and work through them. There are some issues that just won’t go away until I deal with them head on. That’s hard for everyone, that’s very hard for me.

It would be easier to be who I was before. I hid behind the jokes and the self deprecation. It was so easy. Everyone knew what to expect from fat Nancy. She was the organizer of the fun, the life of the party. No sad time for her. She cheered everyone up. She hid her hurt in a mountain of crud and would deal with life when she was thin. This morning I put on my smallest pants and realized my excuses are over. I have to forgive the unforgivable. Face the music of my life’s mistakes. Honor my work and worth, before when I was fat, as well as now. Celebrate the joy of accomplishment, without annoying the shit out of everyone around me. Learn to love myself. Before I used the excuse, who would love someone so uncaring of herself? Now when I am rejected it feels more personal. More painful. I can’t use my weight as an excuse anymore. I feel stripped nude in front of a world of people who can’t see me now because I am normal. Which is almost as scary as everyone noticing you because you are fat.

Almost.

Steven is swallowing his loss of computer/gaming and DVD privileges for a week this morning. Why? His computer teacher caught him in the act of putting an index card into the DVD slot. This would not be a big deal if 1. He was not raised with computers all around him. 2. We’d spent many hours explaining to him how delicate they are.

I explained to him that knowingly putting the card in the slot was malicious destruction of property. He sassed back that nothing broke, so it was all okay. That’s when he lost his gaming privileges, the computer privleges went out the window when we got the note.

He told me to stop lecturing him after thirty seconds. Then the DVD player and movies went away. He does not understand, or claims he does not. I am not buying it. He knows because he got the note on Thursday and didn’t give it to his father till last night.

He knows better. He elected to make a bad choice. There are consequences. He thinks it’s unfair. Sigh.

It’s snowing.

It’s the weekend. It’s no even 8 am here and I’m up. Not just me, everyone, but Gene, who can sleep through almost anything, except a crying baby. They’re all up and not only that, they’re already trying to wiggle out of chores they promised to do days ago. I’m not hard on the chores during the week. On the weekends? You don’t breath, unless you’ve put away the dishes, and helped clean up the family room. End of story. So now the…Okay, here’s Gene. They’re all up now.

I would have loved an hour to myself, but that’s not in the cards and that’s okay. I can start sewing and someone else can walk the dog.

I am sewing some clothes. I have a neat little pile of fabric and a nice little pile of patterns, 5/$5. I have good, even wonderful intentions. I’m getting to it, but I’m also becoming a tad overwhelmed by the piles, neat and tidy tho they be. So, I need to get my hiney sat down and start working on my projects. None of them are overwhelming, hard to do, or out of my comfort zone. So, why am I putting it off?

The Dress Form.

I’m getting one for my birthday and I can’t wait. I want it. I mean I really want it. I can fit things to my body without stripping in front of my dining room window and trying to get my husband to understand fit. I have impossible dreams of the dress form making me into a Project Runway contestant. Okay, not really, but I’ve pretended I’m on TV doing commercials. What, you’ve never touted the wonderfulness of some toothpaste while you brush your teeth and run your tongue across the top to show off that clean feeling? I know I can’t possibly be alone here.

So, my piles wait for the form, which will probably improve nothing, but ya gotta dream bay-bay and this is mine. Move over Christian. I’ve got a dress form and a stash.

In the last of the qualities of my children series, I present Thirteen Things about Gene-Gene, or Eugene as he wants to be called.

1.He’s funny, when it’s about someone else. When the jokes on him the charm ceases.

2. He’s a great artist.

3. He can really sing. He’s nervous about it, but when he sings it’s very good.

4. He loves to annoy, bother and piss off his brothers, but if there’s an emergency, we can count on him.

5. He has a wonderful sense of adventure, but not a stupid sense of adventure. He won’t be jumping the house on his bike anytime soon.

6. He’s a school safety for the month of November and he’s taking his job very seriously. He has a sense of fairness that makes him good at his job. ‘

7. His reading has improved. Unfortunately, we’ve had to use meds for ADHD, but he takes it and the improvements are amazing.

8. He loves animals and Darian is his cat and his cat only. That’s the cat’s idea.

9. He is a private person. He thinks through things hard and likes to talk one on one.

10. He’s smart. He does not believe that, but he is and always has been. He’s the only one who not only did all the milestones on time, but in most cases, early.

11. His distraction factor is 98%. 98% of the time, something distracts him. Usually in the middle of a sentence.

12. He likes school this year, for the first time. No stomach aches, no fake illness. He likes to go. Goes along with the new reading ability.

13. His memory is like a steel trap. He remembers things from a very long time ago and remembers them well.

More Thursday thirteen about kids, and everything else.