Motivation (Or lack there of...)

I have none.

I don't want to work, or cook, or clean or read or... well, pretty much anything.

I need a vacation.

From everything.

Housekeeper

I did it.


I hired a housekeeper.


I've dreamed of this moment for a long time.


Now mind you, he's not exactly what I envisioned:

6'2"

Blond hair

Blue eyes

Doesn't speak a lick of English...


Nope.


He's not even Swedish.


In fact, he was born in Massachusetts.


But I think he'll do.


Everyone: Meet Rolf

Rolf Roomba

He's the new love of my life.


Right up there with our other hired hand, Sven.

Hiatus

Work is getting in the way of my free time. Having too much work is a good thing, no? But my brain is mush. I haven't had time to visit all my bloggy friends and I miss you all. I hope to see you all again very soon. Until then, be well.

Protocol

I need help. I’m still pretty new to this parenting thing and I’m even newer to the sport of socializing with other parents. I just don’t know how to do it.

Finn started playing T-Ball a few weeks ago. He LOVES it. He’s a natural. And he’s making all kinds of new friends. He has no fear of walking up to someone – anyone – and starting a conversation. He’s a natural at that too!

I’m sure most kids are like this when they’re young. At some point in our lives though, we become self conscious and, for a lot of people, talking to strangers and meeting new people becomes scary. OK, at least that happened to me.

I’ve come out of my shell a bit in my old age and I’m not as scared any more to strike up a conversation with someone I don’t know. Perhaps it’s that I have kids now and I feel like I have something to talk about. I’ve never been good at small talk but when there’s a common thread like my children involved, it’s a lot easier.

Now back to T-Ball. The first day was a Skills and Drills day. Basically just a chance to get together, meet the teammates and see what this thing called T-Ball was all about. All the parents were milling about and I took the opportunity to chat with a few of them. We exchanged our stories and our names and enjoyed a little barbeque with the kids after they were done with their drills. Fun!

Fast forward to the first game Two.Days.Later. I emphasize the time frame because really? I’m that forgettable? How can someone who I just had lunch with not recognize me less than 48 HOURS LATER? When I said hello to one of the mothers she barely acknowledged me. Same with another. I was so excited to meet some new people and my bubble was thoroughly burst.

So tell me: Am I naïve to think that a casual conversation and a common thread could lead to a (gasp) friendship? Do people not interact with other parents at these events? I don’t know what the proper protocol is in situations like these and I’m feeling very self conscious again…

Hooray Hooray

Hooray, hooray! The first of May... I can still hear her.

This is how it started. A little tribute to my mother. A blank page where I hoped to voice my grief that she was gone to hopefully pull me from the black hole that I was in. I wasn't sure if it would help, but it has. Tremendously.

I can hardly believe it but it's been one year since I started this little blogging journey. I want to extend a huge thank you to all of the people I have "met" out here. It's the strangest thing. I'm not really all that surprised by it any more; and I know all of you share the same feeling: I've made so many new friends out here. Some of you I'll never meet face to face, others I hope to meet soon. (Melissa, when are we meeting for martinis?) You have all had an impact on my life. Though I didn't know it when I started, you're the reason I'm here. You've listened to me bitch and whine; cry and celebrate. You've offered acceptance, support and advice and helped me through many a difficult moment. Thank you for your shoulders, your pats on the back and, most importantly, the kicks in the ass. It's incredibly powerful, this sisterhood. It's so nice to know I'm not on this journey alone.

Happy First of May everyone.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

Wow. Some of this is spot on. Other's not so much, but interesting just the same... How 'bout you?

You Are Dreamy and Distracted
You are very intuitive and wise.
You understand the world better than most people.
You also have a very active imagination.
You often get carried away with your thoughts.
You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy.
You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals.
You are friendly, charming, and warm.
You get along with almost everyone.
You work hard not to rock the boat.
Your easy going attitude brings people together.
At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible.
But for the important things, you pull it together.
You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow.
You are light hearted and accepting.
You don't get worked up easily.
Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

Oh, The Humanity!

This is for sheshe

The hair, people. Check out the HAIR!!

No matter how big the storm, no wind could make it budge!

Mama Goose 1986

Hallelujah!

I've never been so happy to see my dear Aunt Flo! Blessed be Mother Nature and the release she has brought to me today!!! My monthly "gift" arrived and I now understand what the hell has been going on inside my brain for the better part of two weeks!!

I feel like a new person and know that I'm not going completely insane.

Funny how these cycles elude you when you're not keeping track.

Hallelujah!!

My Smile

I've been on vacation since Christmas Eve. I was SO looking forward to just hanging out at home, maybe doing a few projects around the house, spending some quality time with my husaband and children.

I knew I'd have to log in to my work a bit each day - I am a one person IT department after all - and I was okay with that. I could take care of a few things so my desk wasn't a complete disaster when I returned. Yay for remote access!!

When I was called on Christmas morning, I was annoyed but happy that it wasn't during the ripping and tearing. It happened during a lull and I was alright with the diversion that was driving to the office to bring our servers back on line after the power outage.

When I was called on Monday morning I was a tad more annoyed but knew a lot of people were depending on me to bring the systems back up so they could get their work done.

The New Years Eve call wasn't a thrill, but I'd only had a couple of glasses of wine and the children had just gone up to bed - so at least the drive in to the office didn't compete with our celebration. I was home by 11:00 and actually stayed up to see the ball drop - a first in several years. It would have been more fun if Daddy-O was still up too...

The call this morning, though, sent me over the edge. The issues are thankfully minor and are fairly quick to take care of, but seriously. This is my VACATION. I'm so tired of this and I don't really know what to do. There isn't a simple fix. I know this is "job security" but come on. I have no doubt that I'll be called several more times over the remainder of the weekend.

The smile you saw on the picture below is gone. All the good this "vacation" has done is gone.

I'm sitting at my desk right now trying to calm myself and convince myself not to write my resignation letter and leave it on my boss's desk.

Right Here. Right Now.

Here you go Heathen

This is what vacation looks like. What? Is that a bit of a smile on my face???

It'll be interesting to see this a year from now...

Clepto

(stolen from sheshe)

One Word: Ohm

Where is your cell phone? In my Pocketbook? Purse? Handbag? (Man, I really dislike those words...)

Where is your significant other? Home.

Your hair color? Mousey Brown - with streaks of gray that actually look like blond highlights in the right light.

Your mother? Sadly, deceased

Your father? Happily, not

Your favorite thing? My children and my husband

Your dream last night? Extremely involved, slightly scary, but I can't remember a thing now...

Your goal? Patience. Grace.

The room you’re in? My office.

Your hobby? Trying to find one. I need a diversion.

Your fear? Letting life slip by - not giving my children everything they deserve

Where do you want to be in six years? On the right road to a comfortable retirement

Where were you last night? Home.

What you’re not? Patient

One of your wish-list items? To be in better control of my emotions

Where you grew up? The Adirondacks - New York

The last thing you did? Put more memory in a computer

What are you wearing? Blue jeans and an old maternity sweatshirt. (sad, sad, sad)

Your TV? Um... Which one? We have too many

Your pet? Riley the Golden Retreiver and Dewey the Cockateil

Your computer? Dell Vostro 1700 laptop

Your mood? Lately: Constant PMS

Missing someone? My mother, my sister, myself...

Your car? 2004 Kia Sorento

Something you’re not wearing? A bra

Favorite store? Target

Your summer? Hopefully to KVNY and Minaki, Ontario

Love someone? With all my heart

Your favorite color? Varying shades of blue

When is the last time you laughed? Wow. I need to work on this. I can't remember the last time I truly laughed. K2: I need a Ghh moment.

Last time you cried? This morning

Tagged: You and you and you.

How to Build me up and Tear Me Down in 30 seconds Flat

I've never looked my age, but really? I don't look anywhere close to 21. So imagine my surprised 45 year old ass when I was asked for my ID by the young grocery store clerk.

Check-Out Dude: Um, can I see some ID please?

Mama Goose: Of course you may!!

After a brief pause, obviously doing mental math...

Check-Out Dude: Wow! You're almost as old as my Mom!!

sigh

Goodbye Diana (Could you send my love to Ma?)

This week the mother of a dear old friend of mine passed away after nearly 5 years of fighting leukemia.

She is at a place I remember all too well. The beginning of a journey no one wants to take. The beginning of the road of discovering who you are, alone – without your mother. Perhaps losing a parent is when we truly grow up. Or, really, when we’re forced to grow up.

Some days I still can’t figure out how I’m going to get through it all without her. The fact that I can’t pick up the phone to share an observation, a joy, a sorrow, a dilemma, a milestone… it makes me feel… – Shit! I don’t know what it makes me feel like. I can’t find the right word. But, dammit, she’d be able to help me define this feeling! She’d help me talk it out and pull myself through. So, FUCK! Even more than 3 ½ years later I’m still floundering. Maybe not all the time, but, just… dammit. Just when I think I’ve got my shit together I feel myself falling off the edge again. Some days I shatter and can’t put the pieces back together, I can’t pull myself back and my throat tightens and… I find myself in a knot again. Poor, poor me. Like I’m the only one who ever lost their mother. This just sucks.


I wish Jenny didn’t have to start her journey now. Ever. Maybe she’ll get through it better than I have done so far… Maybe I can learn a lesson or two...

Soap Opera Wisdom

Pain is like a dog.
It's got to be let out - taken for a walk.
Else, one day you come home and your couch has been eaten.

Heard on Days of Our Lives

Mousetrap

The shelves in the cubby room are filled with toys, puzzles and games and lots of art supplies. When we arrive at daycare in the morning, the boys will choose something from the shelf and bring it out to the tables. They usually choose a puzzle to start and I always have lots of drawings to bring home at the end of the day.

There are a few “big” toys on the top shelf – one is called “Hullabaloo” and another is “Elefun” or something similar. These are games which require space as there are lots of pieces to spread about and butterflies that fly out of the Elephant’s snout. Thankfully there’s lots of room in the old church basement that is our daycare.

Finn and Owen wanted to play Hullabaloo this morning, but Alice the daycare owner told them it was too “involved” and “needed adult supervision” and to put it back and choose something else.

This isn’t the first time she has not let them play with something. I’ve kind of brushed it off before – painting does require some preparation and planning. I get that. But I don’t understand what is wrong with letting the kids spread out on the floor and play a game together. If you don’t want them to play with something take it off the shelf!

But I didn’t say anything. I never do. It’s easier to just redirect and find something else the boys will enjoy.

I don’t remember my drive to work this morning. I got lost in a space in my head that I hadn’t visited for a long time.

When I was nine I stopped talking. My parents had divorced more than 4 years previous, but apparently when I was nine I finally decided it was a big deal. This was my silent scream for help. The school psychologist analyzed the situation and suggested to my mother that I see a professional to help me through my issues.

The picture I have in my head of Dr. Parmet is of a stodgy old curmudgeon of a man, dressed in tweed and sporting thick dark glasses. He smelled of cigarettes and books. After our initial formal “get to know you” meeting we settled in to a small room lined with shelves full of toys and games - many of which I had never played before. He asked me what I wanted to play. I scanned the shelves and meekly said, “I don’t know”.

He suggested Gin. I don’t know if I already knew how to play or if he taught me, but for an hour every Monday we would sit in that nearly silent room and play Gin.

Weeks went by and though I got very good at Gin I secretly longed to play “Mousetrap” – a game I had never played but had seen on TV. Oh how I wanted to play it. But every time the doctor asked me what I wanted to play I’d say “I don’t care” and we’d play Gin for an hour.

Time went by and I slowly gained enough confidence to tell him I wanted a change. I remember trying to psych myself up and get ready for that day. And finally it arrived.

We went in to the game room and, as usual, sat at the little yellow table.

"How are you today?" Fine.

I don’t remember anything we ever talked about that was of any substance.

"What would you like to play today?" {pause.} {deep breath.} {throat tightening}
Mmmousetrap. I’d like to play Mousetrap today.

Without skipping a beat, the doctor replied, "No, that’s a stupid game. Let’s play Gin".

I don’t know why I didn’t scream and give him the reaction I know he was looking for. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why I didn’t stand up and push the table away like I wanted to and say But you asked me what I wanted to do and I want to play Mousetrap!

No. I quietly accepted his answer and we played Gin.

I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for not pushing me to speak my mind. I wonder how I would have dealt with certain events in my life if I had gotten mad that day. I had a lot to say, but I was afraid. I still have a lot to say, but it’s easier not to. And really, it just doesn’t matter that much any more.

To Whom it May Concern

Dear fat, lazy bitch who has taken up residence in my hind quarters,

Get the fuck out!

Sincerely,
Mama Goose

PS: Pardon my french, but you really have to go now...

It's Just a Number, Right?

For the first time in my life I am beginning to feel older. Not old, just older.

I'll be 45 next month. Wow. I said it. I don't know why it sounds so frightening to me. I certainly don't look or feel "old". And 45 isn't old! The rational side of my brain reminds me that age is relative to how you feel and act. I don't act "old" - aside from the fact that I can't stay awake past 10 pm any longer.

I remember freaking out about turning 30. I didn't really have anything of significance to show for three decades on this earth and I truly thought I needed to be somewhere "better" by that age. My boss at the time told me that upon turning 30 I would feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders - that I would finally become my own person and not have to prove anything to anyone.

Surprisingly he was right. I'm sure it was because he had put the notion in my head, but I let out a very heavy breathe on the morning of my 30th birthday; one I had been holding in a long, long time. And I felt amazingly renewed. I loved my 30's.

These last 15 years have flown by. Much has happened: Jobs have changed. People have come and gone. (some thankfully, others still painfully missed) Most importantly, I met the love of my life and have found my purpose in my two beautiful boys. I am happy where I am in my life, but I just don't like the fact that I don't feel like I'm 19 anymore.

Why is 45 any different than 44? I've got a month to come to terms with this. I better get busy.

Dude! Sweet!

I didn't want to go. I couldn't imagine being trapped for THREE hours on a party boat in the middle of the bay with a bunch of drunken cow-orkers. I'm not big on small talk and really? I don't have much in common with these people except we work for the same company. With my luck I'd find myself stuck listening to the slurry rant of the resident drunk, counting the minutes while longingly looking towards home from the bow of the boat.

But when I really thought about it; My company is very good to me. It's a great place to work. They truly make me feel appreciated and they go out of their way to thank us and show us a nice time. What's three hours? Suck it up girl. Go. And have fun.

So I did. Daddy-O stayed home with the boys while Mama went to "work". (I know, but it's the only way to get out of the house without a major melt-down) It was a gorgeous night; the temperature was perfect and the rain held out until the very end. Casco Bay is the place to be if you're in Maine in the summertime. Add to that, good food, great music and nasty warm boxed wine,(nothing can be perfect, right?) and you've got the makings of a great night out. The only thing missing was Daddy-O.

My drunk magnet worked like a charm on not one, but two occaisions. But my luck turned and won me the top door prize: Two Club tickets and a parking pass to see the New England Patriots' last pre-season game!! Sweet.

I am one of only a handful of people I know who actually likes my job and the people I work for. Sometimes I have to remind myself how lucky I am.

Grapes

I don't know what it is about grapes, but I will only eat the ones still on the vine. If they fall off it's sort of like the clam/mussel that doesn't close when you tap on it. Those are the ones you toss before cooking. So somehow the grape must be unhealthy if it isn't strong enough to hold on the vine anymore.

Yeah, I'm weird like that.