11/14

Today I learned that a staple gun in the basement, when heard through the bedroom floor and then over the baby monitor into the living room, sounds like gunfire.

Today I learned that a circular saw powering up in the basement, followed by a loud sneezing husband yelling sound, brings to mind images of dismemberment.

I learned that my kitten can climb a potted tree, even with his claws clipped.

I learned that my kitten can climb up onto the fish tank, and then seems rather clueless as to what to do next.

I decided to interpret these last two examples of evil genius as the reason villains in cartoons always have cats on their laps.

I learned that the divorce enthusiasts of the 70s and 80s are still among us, and loonier than ever.

I learned that I really hate the girl scouts. Not the girls themselves, but the whole thing with troops and leaders and councils and all of it. I will buy their cookies (sweet delicious cookies) but other than that I hate the whole thing.

I learned that I am sometimes just not as good as Daddy. (Today I was told, "No! Not Daddy!" when I tried to help my son.)

I learned that Tommy can be very grown up when he wants to be.

I learned that it will take a while to come up with a way to keep the damned cat off the fish tank.

I learned that Tom gets a funny look on his face when I am proven right. It's as if he cannot reconcile this with his world view.

I learned not to give Tommy long rolls of paper, because he tries to catch the cat with them, and then turns circles until he trips himself.

I learned that the human intestine was not designed to accommodate 2 boxes of thin mints in one day.

I learned that in a fight between granola bars and thin mints, intestinally, thin mints win.

And I forgot something today too. Today is, I am fairly sure, somebody's birthday. I cannot remember who, but I know it is somebody that I know or once knew. Possibly, CJ, but his facebook page doesn't say. Whoever it is, Happy Birthday and I'm sorry I've forgotten you.

Things I don't want to forget

When Tommy was a baby he had a forked tongue. At least, that's what we called it, but it was actually just that the two muscles on either side of his tongue were distinctive, so when he stuck his tongue out it had two little bumps on the end rather than one point.

When Ryan was a baby she used to wake up in the morning and nurse, and then she'd just sort of play with it and smile until I caught on and we got up. She was always happy to see me and to start the day.

Tommy did an Army crawl on his belly for so long before he actually got up on all fours that we thought he'd never crawl on his knees.

When I was pregnant with Tommy, he always kicked me whenever I disagreed with Tom. It was like he was taking his daddy's side from inside the womb.

Ryan's first word was "num num" but I didn't want it to be so I ignored it until she said "Mom" and then wrote that in the baby book instead.

I didn't want that kind of deception in Tommy's baby book so I accepted "boo!" as his first word when he was actually just repeating what we said. I don't remember now what his actual first word was. :(

When Ryan was little, in an attempt to teach her something about her father, I used to sing Pearl Jam songs to her at bedtime.

Ryan used to call mosquitoes "itchy bugs" and would get huge quarter sized welts from them so she had to take chewable Benadryl pills before going fishing, and she called those "itchy bug pills".

Ryan used to ask me to tell her bedtime stories, and I suck at making things up on the spot, so I would tell her the plots of movies. The first time she saw The Princess Bride she thought someone had made a movie out of my made up story.

The first time Ryan saw The Emperor's New Groove, she had nightmares of witches turning her into a llama.

11-13

Today I learned that my husband doesn't find me attractive anymore. Also, that I still do.

10th and 11th

The last 2 days I've learned that some people are ignorant and have no desire to improve upon it.

I learned that a significant portion of the public believe that the word veteran means someone who served in the United States military. I don't know what they think former members of foreign militaries are called.

I learned that a lot of people are so short sighted that they believe their own values and preferences are concrete facts and that laws should be set around them. Things they don't like should all be illegal. Not just frowned upon but actually illegal, even if they break no laws and hurt no one. Books about crimes, in which crimes are committed, when the crimes produce a gut reaction of horror, should never be sold to anyone. Because they are bad and wrong and "Why I never!" It is easy to say this about a pedophile guide, but some people just never think to ask "Who gets to draw that line?" Should Dexter be banned as well? The Shining? Helter Skelter?

I learned that when my husband hides in the basement making loud power tool sounds, he is actually accomplishing more than just making tiny boards out of big boards.

I learned that veterans are actually so taken for granted that when you say "Happy Veteran's Day. Thank you," they all seem to ask, "For what?"

I learned that it really never does get old watching Tommy dance along to the Big Bang Theory theme song and then yell "Bang!" at the end, which he pronounces as "Bing!"

I learned that there is no difference between lycra and spandex. It's like Tylenol and acetaminophen.

I got a new phone, and I learned how to use it.

11-9 lessons learned

Today I learned that my son would rather I buy him an apple than a donut. Gotta love that kid!

Today I learned that when I have no patience with abject stupidity, I am bright enough to keep my yap shut about it.

Today I learned that Gods Cuckoo Clock up in the church still bugs me.

I learned that I actually do know what I want to be when I grow up, and it requires a food service license and a metric ton of coffee.

I learned that the giant windmill blades are carried on split flatbed trailers with one piece under the base and one under the tip. I hope to someday learn how the tail lights on those things work.

Today I learned that men's sports (or traditionally men's sports anyway) seem to have some pretty girly prizes. Belts and purses for boxing, stylish jackets for golf, and bracelets for tournament poker. I wonder where those things fall on the Kinsey scale.

I learned that a 2 mile walk on wobbly butt-shoes doesn't hurt my feel any more than in any other shoes. Less, in fact.

I learned that the new Harry Potter film is being premiered at the IMAX.

I learned that IMAX tickets are not available online. :(

The coffee shop in my head

The coffee shop in town went under. Again. This is the fourth time that particular coffee shop in that particular location has gone under. First it was a restaurant that was wildly successful but apparently the owners wanted to hire people to do all the work so they never made a profit, what with payroll eating up their money. Then it was a coffee shop, only open in the mornings, and that didn't go well. Half day operations rarely cover overhead. Then a lady bought it who refused to hire anyone and waste money on payroll, so every time her kid got sick or a sitter called off, the place never opened. Unpredictable hours of operation lose customers. Then the latest owner, a nice enough woman with some experience in the coffee business. Five dollar mostly-foam cappuccinos and Christian music. She got the elderly demographic and some middle class yuppies, but she still didn't last. *sigh*

I have a coffee shop in my head. It is open from 7:00 am to 11:00 pm. It serves coffee and tea and fountain soda, sandwiches and muffins, cakes and cookies. It has works from local artists on the wall (all available for sale) and is willing to throw a demo cd in the muzack queue if it's good enough. Once a month it has a wine and cheese book exchange night when people can pay $5 for two glasses of wine and 3 hours to drink, mingle, and trade their old books for someone else's. It has murals on the walls painted by the high school Art students, and chessboards painted on the tables. It encourages loitering and is the hangout for kids kicked out of the Hardees parking lot. It has free wi-fi, and public chalk boards on the walls, and accepts donation buckets and benefit flyers with no questions asked. And all kids under ten get a free Oreo.

Someday I hope to open my coffee shop. I probably won't, but I hope to.

11/7 things I learned

I learned that letting English muffin dough rise a little longer gives you bigger muffins, but they'll split on the griddle.

I learned that my husband is a big softy when it comes to spending time alone with his oldest son. He took him to McDonalds and let him bounce on the trampoline after dark.

I learned that I have way more wrinkles than I thought, and that it's kinda bugging me.

I learned that I don't like Sprite, even though I do like Sierra Mist.

Sorry. It was a slow news day.

11/6 things I've learned

I learned that my husband hides money from me.

I learned that I feel no guilt spending money I've recently learned that my husband hides from me.

I learned that, 6 weeks of bleeding aside, I kinda like the Mirena IUD.

I learned that even without the nooks and crannies, I prefer home made English muffins to store bought.

I learned that no amount of teeth brushing can make onion breath go away.

I learned that time is a human construct and possible cannot exist without someone to perceive it.

I learned that thinking about time as a human construct and what this might mean for Einstein's theory of relativity which relies on time as a constant, makes my head hurt.

I learned that the concept of time as a human construct dependent on change helps me understand death and eternity a little more, after I take a Motrin for the headache of course.

11/5 lessons

Today I learned how to make English muffins. Yum!

I learned that when you yell "Marco!" in Walmart, people will spontaneously yell "Polo!" in return, and then get very embarrassed about it. (I was looking for Tom and Tommy, and Tommy always yells Polo.)

I learned that Ryan wants a Moon Dough Puppies kit for Christmas.

I learned that Tommy knows how to place orders at drive through windows. (He yelled ice cream at the Wendy's menu fifteen times until we ordered him a frosty.)

I learned that cat toys amuse my infant son more than they do my infant cat.

I learned that Matt Damon will be filming a movie a quarter mile from my younger brother's house, and that my older brother will be in it (as an extra driving some sort of military vehicle).

Today I learned that my husband is more afraid of needles than I am.

Nothing I've learned. Just a rant.

I like helping people. It's not at all altruistic; I just like that they will be grateful to me and will think kindly of me. See? All about me. I like when there's a charity bake sale and I show up with 5 dozen cookies. I like when someone can't find something and I find it for them. I like it all. I have a greedy greedy ego.

That said, I don't like when I help someone and it costs me (not the problem) and they take the help and then walk off with barely a thanks. Nine years ago I let friends use my credit card to book a vacation that ended up costing me $5000. One of these friends was living with me free of charge because her parents changed the locks when they found out she was gay. I haven't heard from this friend in over 7 years, until yesterday when she called to ask me to vote for her friend. The whole thing made me sad. I'm still sad about it. And the thing is, whenever I've seen her in passing these past years, she's said stuff like "Oh yeah, I'm so busy, but we should get together," and then given me this look. You know the look; it's the one a guy gives when he says, "I'll call you," and has no plans to ever call. So then I'm the clingy friend who can't let go after she went to Disney World on my dime.

And I don't like it when I put myself out there and try to be a friend, try to relate to someone and make conversation, and get the other look. The one the guy at the bar gives when he smiles at you and you nod back, and then he curls his lip at you and motions to the not-that-much prettier girl behind you. I mean, really? Open resentment? For simply talking? After the initial checklist- my breath doesn't stink, there's nothing in my teeth, my pants aren't wedged up my ass, I never slept with your husband- it just becomes clear that I am somehow not good enough to talk to you as if we were (gasp!) equals, and that bothers me. Condescension I can handle. I'm a high school drop out with no career and questionable social skills. But open condescension, for merely saying "hi"? What. The. Fuck. People need to learn to roll their eyes after the conversation, not during it. The worst part is that I usually get this particular treatment from my family. And when they're really nice they just don't make eye contact. I get the same "Hi," a stranger would get at the bus stop. Looking everywhere but at me because if they looked at me, I might take it as encouragement to keep talking to them.

I used to read romance novels. Back when I was a single mom and had nothing to do after Ryan went to bed, I read pointless books. And there was one series by one author that I really got into, but she stopped writing them years ago, until now. I just checked out a new one at the library and now as I'm reading it, the first sappy romance novel I've read after getting married, it's much less impressive. The whole "they've been married for years but they still lust after each other and cuddle on the settee" (it's a historical romance; they had settees) thing that used to elicit a derisive snort now seems normal. I mean, that's how I feel about Tom. Isn't that how it is for everybody? If it isn't, I'm sad for them. Unless they went to Disney World on my credit card. Then I'm kinda okay with it.

November 3 learnings

Today I learned to never ever ever for the love of God talk politics on facebook. No matter how smart a person is in the whole rest of their life they will become a screaming demon asking "HOW COULD YOU VOTE FOR THAT GUY?! MY GUY WAS WAY BETTER!!"

Today I learned not to hide the obnoxious musical toy from Tommy in the play pen because the kitten will also hide in there and set the damn thing off constantly.

Today I learned that I need to buy moisturizer.

I learned that an aquarium light won't electrocute the fish if a 2 year old puts it in the fish tank.

I learned that 3 Colace only work for a day.

I learned that I am addicted to granola bars. Delicious, satisfying, constipating granola bars.

I learned that there really hasn't been any good end of the world music since the fall of Russia. What do you know, communism was good for something. (Good end of the world music here and here.)

November 1 learnings

I learned that I hate baby headbands. It's about as subtle as a onesie that says "Yes I am bald but there's a vagina in my diaper" (I feel the same way about earrings on a baby), and the disproportionately huge flower attached to baby headbands these days just makes the kid look off balance.

I learned that it's possible for a kid to bring home an honor roll report card for last quarter while simultaneously flunking 3 classes this quarter.

I learned that the above grade scenario confuses my brain and makes my tummy hurt.

I learned that if you're going to live off hastily gobbled granola bars for a few days, you might want to eat a Colace or two every now and then.

I learned that it's better to be called a hypocrite than to refuse to learn from your mistakes. Yes, I did that and yes, I am against it and no, I won't let my kids do it.

I learned that recipes are very rarely written out for single portions and that I have no idea what to do with the rest since no one seems eager to eat homemade English muffins but me.

I've been forgetting!

Yesterday (Halloween) I learned that if it means candy, a kid can talk to strangers all damn night.

I learned that my son prefers Skittles to just about anything else.

I learned that cocoa on the stove is 100X better than powder dust.

I learned that cocoa on the stove burns easily. :(

I learned no to go to the house that hands out unfrozen popsicles. (Vanburen house, just fyi.)

I learned that Monica Gibler looks surprisingly good in green grease paint.

I learned to wear gloves on Halloween, as your hands get pretty cold pushing a stroller.

What I learned, 10/27

The power went out last night, rendering the house unfathomably dark, the computer unusable, and Tommy thrilled to be allowed to take a flashlight to bed since his night light was out. So here's what I learned yesterday.

I learned that lesbians like Swiss Miss hot cocoa, which really is the most appropriate brand for them, if you think about it.

I learned that $60 for an hour long massage isn't overpriced at all. In fact, it's money I should start spending often.

I learned that nothing is more awesome for a 2 year old than candle light and his own flashlight.

I learned that not all 2 year olds are ready to be potty trained, and that hot wheel cars love to race through "water".

I learned that hot wheel cars are dishwasher safe.

I learned that it is possible for a dog pen to blow 30 feet and drag a beagle leashed to it behind it.

I learned that a beagle, when faced with her own survival, can break a metal choke chain.

I learned to always chain the dog to the fence, not the pen.

Pit bulls suck

Okay seriously, pit bulls suck. But it's not their fault that they suck. They have been deliberately and effectively bred to attack and not to stop. Now, you can raise a dog not to attack, but breeding often wins out. I can try to train my beagle not to chase rabbits, or a chihuahua not to yap, or a greyhound not to run, but they will always revert back to breeding at some point or another. Pitbulls, when faced with anything they take to be aggression, want to attack it. They may resist the urge 99% of the time, but that 1% that they do give in can really hurt. And it's not their fault.

Pit Bull lovers are the ones at fault. When a baby has his testicles eaten, it's not the dog's fault, or even the mother who set the baby down asleep in his carrier. When a 3 day old baby lying on a bed is mauled and killed by the family pit bull, it's not the dog's fault. It's the people who say every day that owners, not breed, determine a dog's temperament. The people who convinced the parents that the kid was safe around the dog, that it was possible to predict the dog's behavior based on how you raised the dog, that pit bulls will not attack a creature prone to sudden movements and loud outbursts as long as it wasn't taught specifically to attack. It's the age-old nature vs nurture argument, and it has in many instances been disproved People used to think gender was all in how you were raised, but now they know it's inborn. And just like this, some day people will realize that some breeds of dogs are just more aggressive than others. And the stupidest part of it is, they already do!

The same person who swears their pet pit bull would never hurt a fly because they raised him nice are always quick to also point out that they'd trust their pit bull with a baby before they would a chihuahua because "little dogs bite more". So which is it, that breed means nothing or that it does? If chihuahuas are more quick to bite as a breed, then you're arguing against yourself. But even so, chihuahuas bite and then let go. Pit bulls hang on until they're dead, and they don't always let go even then. But it's not their fault. It's not a schizophrenic's fault when he kills someone he thinks is following him with a bomb. But if there were a large segment of the population out there claiming that unmedicated schizophrenics are safe as long as their parents raised them right, it would be those folks' fault when the hot dog stand guy gets jumped for waving a ketchup bottle.

from last night

Oops, I forgot.

Today (yesterday) I learned that doctors will reschedule your appointments without ever consulting you, and then get upset when you don't show up 3 hours earlier than the time you had booked. Seriously, I don't care if you left a voicemail telling me you were changing the appointment time! Appointments are a mutually agreed upon thing, and if I don't agree to it it isn't scheduled. I think next time I need a pap I'm just going to call after hours and make myself an appointment without them. "Um, yeah, hi. This is Charlie Melton. I was wondering if I could just come in for a pap tomorrow at eleven. I'm gonna go ahead and write that down and if it doesn't work for you, feel free to call here before three o'clock this afternoon."

I also learned that no matter what appointment time Medical Associates thinks they have you down for, their robo-caller reminder computer will change it by up to a half an hour. A 3:30 appointment becomes 3:50, and a 12:45 appointment becomes 1:00.

Today (yesterday) I learned that if I make enough food to feed a small army, my 12 year old daughter won't be hungry, but if I make a normal amount of food, she'll go back for fifths. Fifths!
And that's about all. It was a slow day.

A la Doogie Howser

I've decided that every night before bed (for as long as I stick with it) I will post things I have learned that day, no matter how mundane. I hope that this will help me appreciate life more, to see that I learn something new every day. Either that or I'll realize that I learn nothing, and fall into a deep depression. Either way, here it goes.

Today I learned that a 14 year old boy can wander town for over an hour during a school day and no one will notice. If I had known this 20 years ago, I would have cut school a lot more. I assumed it would attract attention.

Today I learned that typhoons can strike the midwest.

Today I learned that coffee beans are actually cherry pits.

That's all.

I'm a thousand years old

Last night Tom and I went out for our anniversary dinner, and I wore make up. It's the only day of the year I'm guaranteed to wear make up, so I always take my time and do it right. And on the drive to the restaurant I glanced in the visor mirror and noticed that my make up had filled into tiny wrinkles under my eyes and made them stand out. I looked old. Combined with the fact that I'm letting my hair grow out natural, I looked really old. And you want to know a secret? I liked it.

I have known too many people who never got to be old. Derek died in high school; he never got to be old. Aaron died 3 months after graduation; he never got to be old. Smokey died in his thirties, as did Jeff and Chris, and none of them got to be old. I want to get to be old. I want gray hair and wrinkles, and grandchildren and knobby knuckles and brown spots on the back of my hands. I want the privilege of arthritis and the prize of menopause. I want it all.

Of course I worry that when I'm turning 50 Tom will still be looking at 18 year olds. And I certainly don't want to look 20 years older than I am. But life is a downhill slope and it's always more fun to roll down the hill fast than to desperately try to claw your way back up. "There's nothing tragic about being 50, not unless you try to be 25." I really believe that. Also the old saw about how life isn't about looking good in the casket but about how much fun you have getting there. I don't want my last thought to be worrying that I ate too much at lunch, or that I'm hungry because I only had a salad. I also don't want to live so long that my last thought is hoping the next aid to change my diaper is gentle with it. I want to live long enough that I've accomplished my list but not so long that living is a burden. And if I have wrinkles under my eyes already, I'm not going to waste any of my precious time now worrying about it. Life only has so many hours in it (often less than we'd like) and I'm not going to waste them covering my grays, or peering at my wrinkles (or injecting my head with botulism), or clinging to a childhood and youth I didn't much enjoy when I had it.

Somewhere along the line I learned, from media or society or whatever, that as long as I felt like shit it was okay. As long as I hate my thighs, it's okay. I may be fat, but at least I know it and am fully aware of how terrible it is. As long as I'm miserable about my complexion it's okay. I may have zits but at least I'm trying to get rid of them, as evidenced by my obsessing self-hatred over it. This is why you see all sorts of women all the time announcing "I'm so fat," or "I look like Hell," unsolicited: to alleviate guilt. But now I have decided that I'm tired of hating things about myself and feeling ugly for other people. My lips have tiny lines coming out from them. It's from years of puckering up around cigarettes, I know, and eventually I will be unable to wear lipstick without it running off into those lines. But I'm not going to hate it any more. I sag, and am larger than need be, and some parts of me wait to stop moving until the rest of me has been still for an awkwardly long time. But so what? When I die, am I going to regret not obsessing about it all, or am I going to regret the time I wasted freaking out about it just so maybe people wouldn't insult me if I beat them to it?

I want to be an old lady, in a rocking chair, fat enough to give my grandkids a soft lap to sit in. I want to stop hating myself because the inventors of photoshop made it possible for every billboard, commercial, or print ad to make actual mortal people somehow seem inadequate.

these are a few of my favorite things

The smell of burning dust you get when you turn the furnace on for the first time in autumn. It always makes me want to wrap up in a blanket and sit on the couch, as though fall and winter are officially here now that I've smelled the heater.

The little gold line on a Monarch butterfly cocoon. How do caterpillars make gold? I don't know, but it's a fitting part of the magic of turning a stripy green and black worm into a big orange butterfly.

The smell of Cornhuskers lotion. My father always kept a bottle by his kitchen sink and now whenever I start to miss him particularly bad, I grab my old bottle and take a whiff.

My morning coffee, when it's the perfect temperature that I can take long satisfying gulps without burning my throat.

Turning off all the lights except the Christmas lights and sitting in the warm glow of the tree sipping hot cider.

The silent moments when an infant tries to coo but doesn't know how to make the sound come out and just ends up making whispery "heh" sounds, and then the big smile on their face when they finally find their voice.

Finding the perfect figural teapot for my collection, where the handle and spout are so well worked into the design that they're almost hidden.

The way my husband sometimes rubs my hand while we lie in bed. It's nice that when he absentmindedly fidgets, that he does it at me.

Every winter Ryan decides to make a snowman, and every single time she decides to make it HUGE, and ends up with 3 giant snowballs on the ground because she can't lift any of them to form the snowman. I like that she never gives up and she always dreams big.

A nice hot cup of Sleepytime tea, when it's just a couple degrees hotter than that comfortable and I feel lit burn down into my stomach.

Why bother with it all?

I used to see the women who never leave the house without their make up and hair done and envy them. I envied their organization skills at least. It was all I could do just to get my hair and teeth brushed in the mornings; mascara and a flat iron were not part of my plans. But now I look at them and I wonder what it must be like to feel that you're not presentable unless altered. How must it feel to have to thicken eyelashes, color lips and cheeks, and line eyes just to be able to go to work, or even the grocery store. I have make up, and I wear it occasionally, for special occasions or predictable photo opportunities. But I don't dislike what I see in the mirror daily enough to have to artificially color or plump or conceal it before being seen. I do often look in the mirror, sigh, and declare that, "I look like shit." But most days I go on from there and don't look back. I've begun to think that fighting a physical reality is just a prescription for pain. Grays will always be there, wrinkles will form, under-eye circles will darken. Constantly battling to stay ahead, or just to keep pace with, the passage of time sounds exhausting. So I will leave the daily eyeliner and lipstick, the blow dryer and mousse, to those who feel they need them, for whatever reasons. I will be out in the world, naturally colored and textured, not even minding that they think I've let myself go.