Monthly Archives: July 2011

I Think My Neighbors Are Stalking Me. And This Time, They Have Just Cause.

Or at least they’ve found me out.

You know my obsession with clean trash cans? (No? Read about it here. It’s ok. We’ll wait.)

And you’re well aware of my fascination with Google search terms. (Here and here. Again, take your time. We’re a patient bunch.)

Well, apparently, people are still finding my blog when they search for: random acts of kindness (A number of posts on this topic as it is near and dear to my heart), burka (Just one post on this topic, I promise), traffic signals, josef albers, joy suckers (Hey! That’s just mean!), wrinkled boobs (Even meaner!), hornyteens (Written just like that, all one word — and I’ll say it again. Ewwwwww!) and now……..

Wait for it……

wait for it…..

OCD About Trash Cans.

Wait! I can explain.

It’s just that we recently had another incident. And this time, it was my husband’s fault.

You see, I’ve turned #1son into an OCDer. Fingers crossed that he’s come by it honestly. He’s my son through adoption so I’m hoping it’s nature, not nurture. Because I know how debilitating OCD can be. And I shudder to think that I’m the cause. And I don’t want to see him on Dr. Phil in 20 years, shouting to the world that it’s all my fault. But I digress….

We, meaning my #1son and I, had just cleaned the trash cans last week. He was helping me pull them to the house and he said, ever so sweetly, “Mom? These cans are stinky. Maybe we should clean them out?”

Ahhhh. He warms the cockles of my heart.

So, we got to it. Spraying. Lysoling. Spraying some more. Air drying. It was heaven.

Sparkling clean trash and recycling cans tucked safely away in the garage.

Check.

This week, I went to the curb and grabbed the trash can handle.

Ouch!

Something bit me.

I look down and the handle, the ridge of the can and inside the can is covered with red ants. Upon further discovery, the bottom of the can is swimming with sweet, sticky liquid. Could it be……beer?

I don’t drink beer. My kids don’t drink beer. My husband. He drinks beer. And he broke rule # 173: Do not put loose trash in the trash can and rule #92: Put recyclables in the recycling bin. (Duh!)

So, two weeks in a row, I’m outside, cleaning the trash bin. And my neighbors saw me.

And the very next morning, in my WordPress Site Stats, I find that someone has found my blog by searching: OCD about trash cans.

Oh. I am so busted.

11 Comments

Filed under All In A Day's Work, funny, How We Roll

To You, Dear Readers. Thanks For Helping Me Deal.

Your outpouring of support for my last post (The Life And Times of Six-Year-Old Jane) has touched me so. Especially when I’ve been such a horrible reciprocating blogger of late. I’m going through some (not serious) health issues that have me pre-occupied. All is well. I will be ok. Just extra distracted, scattered and annoyed with the struggles.

I’m great at putting emotions or moments I’d rather forget in a drawer and never thinking about them again. Or, brushing things aside and saying, “I’ll get to that later.” When my husband and I have had an argument and much later he says, “Remember when we disagreed about….” I can actually feel the memory of that uncomfortable moment start to show his (because bad memories are always male, right?) ugly head. I’ll stop my husband in mid-sentence and say, “No! I don’t want to remember. Let’s just move on.” Yes, I’m the one with her fingers in her ears singing “La, la, la, la,la,  la!”  

But I’m learning that you can’t truly move on unless you’ve dealt with it head on.

When Dawn and Tori inspired me to write a post, tongue-in-cheek, about a 6-year-old memoir, I thought, “Ooooo. This will be fun.”

It wasn’t.

It reminded me of things I had stuffed.  Things I hadn’t dealt with. Things I’d rather forget. And I chose not to write about the heavy, heavy stuff. Too painful.

I cried a bit, writing what little I wrote. I miss that little girl. She was cute and always smiling. She loved music and listening to baseball games on her stuffed Tiger with the transistor radio tucked inside.(Remember those?) And she just wanted hugs, approval and love.

Don’t get me wrong. My parents did the best they could with what parenting talents God gave them. And I have many happy memories. But most of those happy memories don’t involve my parents. I think that’s why I am so hell-bent on creating happy memories with my own children.

I have a soft-spot for children who are ignored or forgotten. I suppose we all do. But I have always gravitated toward charities, causes, and professions that could help those children. When I dabbled in foster care and had those two beautiful girls in my home it was the most rewarding and emotionally draining year of my life. I’ve thought about becoming a child advocate volunteer many times. But I always stop short, knowing that I may have to open a cupboard or two and deal with a few of my own demons.

And at for-sen-sumpin years old, I’m still not ready.

Baby steps.

Tiny baby steps.

Thanks for pushing me along.

 

7 Comments

Filed under Observations, Ponderings

The Life And Times Of Six-Year-Old Jane

Hi. I’m Jane. And I’m a big girl, now.

I’m six. And my life has been so very, very full.

My earliest memory is sitting on the basement steps, eating this pretty blue stuff. (Drano) I was about 18 months old. It didn’t taste very good but it sure looked sparkly. The next thing I know my mom’s nails were jabbing into my armpits. It really hurt. But my mouth and eyes were stinging, too. Then water was rushing all over my face. My mom put me in the tub with all my clothes on. I can’t believe she let me get all wet and messy like that. Time for a new outfit! I love changing clothes.

I like reading with my mom and my sisters. I have 3. Two are twins and they’re three years old now. When they were babies I would help my mom feed them a bottle while my other sister held the book so mom could read to us. My dad snapped a picture with mom and I each feeding a baby and my sister on the floor, holding the book. I like that picture.

I have more things I remember that I don’t want to talk about. My parents were very stressed, having 4 kids in the span of 3 years. They did the best they could but it didn’t feel like it at the time. Tired. Angry. Mean. My sister got pulled by her hair a lot. I’m glad my hair is short. Some cruel punishments that shouldn’t be mentioned. I tried really hard to be good, to hide the evidence if we messed up. To clean up.

Sometimes it worked. Other times?

I don’t like to remember those times.

I loved my plaid skirt, my Baby Boo, my red bicycle. I love visiting my grandparents. Everyone is happy there. No one fights. And my grandmother doesn’t let us get hit.

I remember the moment I learned to tie my shoes. I was waiting for my mom to finish changing the twins and I was tired of waiting. I played around with the laces and suddenly I realized they were tied. I was so excited. I jumped up and told my mom. She brushed past me and muttered, “Well, it’s about time.” I didn’t care. I did it all by myself. I will never forget that moment.

I play with my sisters and we have lots of fun together. We play pretend mostly. My sister closest to my age is so funny. She makes me laugh all the time. We protect each other. We giggle long into the night, that is, until my dad comes in and tells us to be quiet. She’s my best friend.

There was that time that I had to go to the hospital because I OD’d on baby aspirin. My mom and the twins were napping. My sister and I were bored. So, we played tea party. We wanted real food but we weren’t supposed to leave our bedroom. But there was a bottle of pink pills on top of the dresser. And they tasted like orange candy. We pretended they were tiny cookies. I ate most of them. I guess that’s why I had to get my stomach pumped. It hurt. A lot. But the nurses were so nice to me. They didn’t yell at me because I made a mistake. I wanted to go home with the one with the curly hair.

I remember the day that all my friends got to go to kindergarten and not me. I wanted to go to school so badly but I wasn’t old enough yet. But now, I’m in school and I love it. It’s a lot better than staying at home.

So that’s me. Jane. Six years old. In school and loving it.

As long as I can go to school every day, I think I’ll be ok.

If you had a six-year-old memoir, how would yours read? Feel free to share here, in the comments section, or on your own blog.

15 Comments

Filed under children, Growing Up

Top 10 Reasons Why I Hate Western Medicine

10. It’s a necessary evil sometimes. My husband practices Tradition Chinese Medicine (TCM). He is amazing at what he does. Why is he so amazing? He’s just THAT good. BUT, he also recognizes when Western medicine is necessary. I was raised in a Western medicine family. It’s all I knew until I met my husband. I have a love/hate relationship with Western medicine. I call it a necessary evil  because of the following….

9. My appointment is the first one of the day and I still have to wait 40+ minutes before anyone sees me. Overbooking is rude. I know you have no-call-no-shows. I realize that emergencies arise. But when I wait that long. Every. Single. Time.  My time is valuable, too. It’s annoying. It’s more than annoying; it’s expensive.  And my sitter doesn’t appreciate it, either.

8. I’m just following doctor’s orders. Don’t shoot the messenger. I needed to drop off lab results that I’d had a few weeks ago. The doctor told me to come in the next day. She told me the time to be there; when  she first arrives in the morning. She wanted to take a look at the previous results and see if other tests needed to be ordered. Plus, she wanted to see how I was doing on my new meds. (I wasn’t doing well.) So, I asked to have a minute to speak to her. Nope. I got the eye roll from the front desk and was told to fill in a “Patient Walk In” form and she would call me later. She has a very busy schedule. (What was I thinking?)

7. It was the lab tech’s idea. I promise!  When the lab tech saw what I had written about the side effects I was experiencing she offered to see if my doctor had a minute to speak with me. The nurse came in and snipped, “If you need to speak with a doctor, you’ll need to make an appointment for sometime today. And we can’t guarantee you’ll be able to see Dr. X but we’ll make sure you see someone.” I told her to forget it. If Dr. X had time to call me, I’m sure we can handle it over the phone. Sheeesh.

6. Fox News on the waiting room TV. (Need I say more?)

5. They refuse to call you by the right name. If they could give you a number, they would. My son’s name is four names long. First name. Second name. Third name (his Korean given name) and last name. We go by second name. It’s a family tradition. Plus, it alerts you to when telemarketers are calling. When you fill out the medical forms, they want the child’s legal name. No matter how many times I circle his second name or tell the front desk what he likes to be called they insist on calling over the loud-speaker “James Lastname to room #2.” Who the heck is James? Oh, yeah. That’s us.

4. The doctor will be with you in a moment – but first, how are you going to pay for this? I know it’s their job. And there is nothing wrong for getting paid for doing good work. But I hate how the front desk accost me every time to make sure my insurance is up to date and the forms I have to sign every, single time stating I’ll pay them if insurance doesn’t. Money first, healing second.

3. The germs. Everywhere. I’m a bit of a germaphobe. I cringe thinking about all the dirty door knobs, armrests, magazines. You know, the stuff they probably don’t sterilize. Ewwww.

2. Everyone loves an instant fix. It’s what you do best. But what about the fact that I’m also not sleeping or crave sweets or am overly sensitive to smells. Western medicine tends to look at individual symptoms and not the whole person to see what might be related. And then they treat each individual symptom, cluttering up your medicine cabinet. TCM considers the whole. I love that.

And the #1 reason I hate Western medicine….

1. The cost. It’s huge. It’s gigantic. For me. For all of us. But for that, I fear we have insurance, malpractice and lawsuits to blame. I’m not going to pin that one on the doctors. Well, not all of them, anyway.

12 Comments

Filed under Soapbox

Let’s Go Back. And For Some Of Us, It’s Going To Be Waaaaaaay Back.

A memoir by a 6-year-old still has me stumped. And it got me thinking about what my own memoir would say, if I were still 6. Some of you, in your comments to my previous post, mentioned a bit of what your memoir would contain. (Thanks for the inspiration Dawn and Tori!)

I’d love to hear more!

Let’s all think back. Waaaaaaay back. And post the memoir you would have had as a six-year-old. It can be a poem. It can be prose. It can be long. It can be short. But all of them will be sweet, I’m sure.

We’ll meet back here on Friday and share!

Sound like fun?

Then get those fingers tapping!

3 Comments

Filed under Because I'm Curious, Blogging, children, Hey! That Reminds Me!

6-Year-Old Retires…..Whaaaaa?

This just in!

Six-year-old Eden Wood is retiring from…..

beauty pageants.

After all, she’s competed in over 300 already. Call it burn-out. Call it been-there-done-that.  Whatever the reason, she’s done.

Oh. Wait.

Maybe pageants will interfere with her book tour. She’s written a memoir. It’s called “From Cradle To Crown.” Six years old and she has a memoir already.

Boy, I’d better get busy with mine. Looks like I’m about 40 years behind schedule.

19 Comments

Filed under children, Observations, People

I Can’t Help It. I Just Have To Ask.

I told myself I wouldn’t give this subject any more airplay than it’s already received.

But I can’t help myself.

I’m confused about three things.

1. How could the jury find Casey Anthony guilty of lying to the police about the circumstances surrounding her missing child but NOT find her guilty of neglect? (On the count of neglect they found her not guilty. My jaw dropped. Wide open. I even caught a few flies.)

2. How could one juror say that they were just sick about not being able to find her guilty of murder but another (alternate) juror say he believes that Casey Anthony was a good mother?

3. How one look at that smug face of Casey Anthony at many times throughout the trial doesn’t convince anyone that she’s a nut case?

I couldn’t help it. I just had to ask.

23 Comments

Filed under Because I'm Curious, Moms, Motherhood, Observations, People

My Budding Entrepreneurs

 

 

Yes, the economy is bad. And no, my kids aren't price gouging. The decimal for $.50 is barely visible. But it's there. Trust me.

 

Happy 4th y’all!

15 Comments

Filed under All In A Day's Work, children

We All Deserve A Round Of Applause

I’ve been a crappy blogger lately. Awww, who am I kidding? I’ve been a crappy blogger for months now. I can’t keep up with you all. I can’t keep up with my own writing.

But I’m hanging in there.

And even though I thought I had nothing to say this evening, I decided to peek in on you all. Well, maybe not all of you — I’m one of the lucky ones who has more followers than I deserve. Let’s just say, I began with the intention of peeking in on you all but then I got inspired and it turned into looking in on you some. (Does that even make sense? I didn’t think so.)

I started looking around and reading and musing and even made a few comments. And I discovered something really wonderful.

We’re all still here!

We made it!

We still have blogs and we’re still writing and we’re still reading and conversing.

We’re holding on.

Some by a thread. (Me.) Some with a sturdy grip. (The rest of you.)

But we’re still here.

I’m so impressed. And so happy to know all of you.

Some of you have given up on me. And that’s ok. I probably would have given up on me, too — except I have privy knowledge of the crazy goings-on in my head and if I were you, I wouldn’t want to miss out on the amazing blog posts soon to come. But it’s your choice to bail. That’s what makes this country great. Don’t worry. I don’t hold it against you.

But most of you? You’ve stuck around! To my amazement. You still peek in here from time to time to see how I’m doing. And I’m touched. In awe. And so appreciative.

For that, I applaud you, dear readers. For your perseverance when even I didn’t seem to have any.

Most of all, I applaud YOUR longevity. In a world where blogs last a mere 18 months or less, you and I can proudly say, We Made It!

Stand up.

And let’s give ourselves a round of applause!

 

16 Comments

Filed under Blogging