growing curious

"then alice put down her flamingo...

and began an account of the game, feeling very glad she had someone to listen to her."                                                                                                                            --Lewis Carroll

Kid is sick with fever, snot, and cough.  M-I-L has pneumonia.  D is in an intense, ramped-up mode at work so I am trying to give him more room to do his own thing than usual.  Brother has gone down the rabbit hole and only communicates at the last minute, in crisis, and gets pissed if I can't drop everything and come to his aid.  Dying cousin may need (my help) to go into the hospital or to urgent care tomorrow because of excruciating muscle spasms.  My call to his primary caregiver went unanswered tonight so I fear things took a turn for the worse tonight.

Tomorrow afternoon I need to meet a semi-truck and pick up 175 pounds of bulk food (beans, grains, nuts, seeds, oils).  After I load them into the car, I need to bring them home, weigh out portions I've promised to family members, and store everything safely in our house.  (This is the logical -- somewhat extreme -- extension of the bread project.  I'm determined to simplify our way of eating and shopping for health and financial reasons.) 

So what did I do tonight?  I scoured half of the kitchen -- the side that has the difficult-to-clean Wolf range.  Okay?  Now there is a small corner of my home that has some order.  The pantry has been re-organized, glass jars are clean and waiting to be filled, half of the counters sparkle, and the stove is pretty damn clean.

Thanks for being there and listening.  It helps.

how come...

even the good days are hard?

Today was a GOOD day here, despite what I posted earlier.  Why do I feel so fried, so misunderstood, so run-over?

I'm tired from trying to do good for my daughter, my m-i-l, and my husband.  The laundry is still getting done, but I tracked dirt inside our house today after tracking it into my m-i-l's house.

The bathrooms need to be cleaned.  The kitchen needs a super-clean.  I haven't even ventured dowstairs to see what fresh hell D and E have made down there.  All I do is clean.  I am an appliance here.   I am so f-ing tired that I can't see straight.

What is wrong with me?  Do I have personality issues?  Am I too old to be the mother of a preschool-aged kid?  Do I have undiagnosed health problems that prevent me from making sure bottoms and baseboards and bathtubs are sparkling clean?  What should I be doing differently? 

My only saving grace all day has been the thought of watching Saving Grace tonight.  I have missed that show.

just a piece of bologna

I really enjoy reading The Sandwich Life.  I feel considerable kinship with Cynthia -- sandwiched as she is between her young children and her elderly mom (her dad died this year).

Today I thought of Cynthia and asked the Universe for a morsel of her patience.   I was on my hands-and-knees cleaning my mother-in-law's carpet and taking out her trash.  I had brought over a bunch of things to help her feel better because she has some lung congestion that might be pneumonia.  Whatever her doctor had given her wasn't helping her breathe so I brought over some herbal remedies to bring ease.

But my mother-in-law wasn't thankful for any of that (even though she asked me to bring the things I brought).  She was just mad that I had tracked in some dirt from my shoes.  She acted like she couldn't believe I could be so stupid.  So I got to work cleaning and helping her out.

Obviously, my m-i-l was tired and uncomfortable.  I just wish she could have appreciated that I came running over there with a bag full of help ten minutes after she called.

Then I shifted back to E.  She needed a day in the sunshine, not a day at home doing chores.  I snuck her tricycle into the back of the car when she wasn't looking and took her over to a nice rubberized track nearby so that she could get some practice riding it some distance.

She wasn't into that so we ran around the track a couple of times instead.  We played on a playground, and then she wanted to walk somewhere for lunch.  Again, I indulged her.  Why not?  It was a pretty summer day.  We could go on a long, long walk.  We did.  It wore her out.

On the way back from lunch, the tantrums began.  She saw a soccer field and wanted a soccer ball immediately.  Right then.  I was a bad mom for not giving it to her.  She yelled at me, stomped her feet, and hit herself (her latest way to show anger).  It took every ounce of patience I had to keep my tone-of-voice even and warm.

I know she's only three, but could she not have remembered that we just spent the last two hours out in the sunshine and having lunch and focused on her?  I am not a bad mom just because I am unable to twirl my magic wand and produce a soccer ball at her call.

So I felt like a piece of bologna -- just something boring, flat, and pink, smashed between two demanding, ungrateful pieces of bread.  Sometimes it seems as though I exist to serve and wipe bottoms and read minds.  Will I ever get a scrap of my own life back?

we wanted a solution...

not more headache!

Even though E has been doing better physically, we've been having a lot of power struggles with her at night.  She keeps delaying bedtime and finding ways to pull us back into her room for conversation.

Her favorite ploy is to ask us in a pitiful-then-demanding voice to help her pull her blankets up because she "can't do it!"  (There has been so much "I can't" stuff happening with the potty situation that -- despite our best efforts at encouraging her -- she has sold herself on all the things she "can't" do.)

So D and I looked at her bed situation and realized that she may have a bit of a problem.  She's still in a toddler bed, and her summer comforter doesn't tuck in.  The blankets get askew.  How annoying for her.  And she's sorta getting too big for the toddler bed anyway.

IKEA?  We went over there full of hope.  They didn't have what we really wanted.  We settled on a second-best choice.  On the way out, we spotted the Kura bedframe and wondered if E would like a secret cave of a bed, canopied with fun fabric (when the bed is in the lower position).  She hopped in and seemed very happy.  We took it home.

Nightmare.  D spent all day putting it together.  I spent all day finding reasonable-but-soft twin bedding and fabric for making the canopy.  We didn't need to create any extra stress for ourselves, but we did big time.

Now E's room looks weird and too small.  What did we do?!  But I can see how this cozy cave could work for her.  She did need a bigger bed...  Aargh.  I hope this ends up being a good choice.

Luckily, her bedtime tantrums only last a half hour tonight so maybe the secure bedding helped.  Mom and dad are really tired and cranky. 

frabjous day

I am relieved.  We made it through the special summer "camp" week at E's school.  No accidents.  Lots of positive encounters for both E and me.  We've begun the "school thing" and no one arrested me or took E away from me or anything like that.

Maybe I can learn how to interact with other parents in a comfortable way.  Everyone was very nice.  We definitely made the right choice in this school.  This week has shown me how profoundly different it is from the old daycare/preschool.  There's more support all around -- for E and for us as a family.  Good job, C and D!

still better

E and I had a nice visit with the naturopath today.  It was fun to report that she's better and that the new protocol is working.  Working like a miracle, actually -- no pun intended.

The naturopath asked me if I was angry, and I guess it felt good to have her acknowledge what a natural reaction that would be to what we've been through these last months. I am angry at myself and angry at the other doctors.  She said, "Well, if you really want to waste energy being mad at yourself, you could do that.  As for the other doctors, you just ran up against their limitations.  They don't have the luxury, or they haven't made the choice, to open their scope to other healing modalities.  They used the tool that's normal for them.  As for your anger toward yourself, you don't have to go there.  You made this journey for a reason.  You, D, and E figured out something important for yourselves."

It was a very supportive conversation, and I felt as though she understood us all pretty well. 

We go back in five weeks (after a titration down on the vitamin C). After E is in school and I have some schedule-able time, I will go see this naturopath for my own health issues.  She's very smart and listens well.

E is in a 4-day morning "camp" at her new school this week.  Yesterday and today were accident-free and full of empowering experiences for her.  Tomorrow, I will be the parent helper for the day.  I'm pretty nervous because sometimes I really suck at being patient, but I'm anxious to get on board with this whole new school experience.

I just wish I could turn off the hot flashes!  Dealing with parental preschool anxiety and power surges at the same time is a very weird situation.

domestic

Right now I am eating yogurt that I made.   The texture is more like ricotta than sour cream so I will keep experimenting.  I like the current texture and taste, but it's harder to pass it off as "real yogurt" to a 3-year-old.

This morning, E and I harvested...

• mint and yarrow to dry for teas
• self-heal, lemon balm, and anise hyssop to infuse fresh
• the still-exuberant violets to infuse in olive oil (for the first time)
• goumi berries and serviceberries to pop into our mouths on the spot.

For dinner, we had kale, onions, and golden beets and tops from the garden in our stir-fry.

Tonight David helped me clean up the garage so that we can move paper and cleaning supplies out of the laundry room cabinets and into the garage.  We're going to use the laundry room cabinets for bulk food storage because we can control the temperature/light better there.  We're getting ready to make our first bulk order with Azure Standard, and I want to make sure that the change in shopping patterns and investment in basic ingredients truly will save us money.

It's been a lot of work to figure out what we really like to eat, what we shouldn't eat, how we can plan better, and how to store bulk ingredients more efficiently.  We're just beginning this journey, but I can see some freedom ahead.

full of tantrum

Despite the weirdness to come later tonight, I'm grateful that the morning started out nicely.  We went to a neighborhood parade and marched with some folks from E's new preschool.  I am really enjoying getting to know these other parents and kids.  It's like a whole new world is opening up for us.

The parade was the sort of thing I never would have gone to or known about before E came along.  How silly we all were, marching and riding bikes, decorated in festive doo-dads.  But E really got into it.  She ran and walked and banged on a drum the whole way.

It was fun to observe the other tired parents.  We were all just there, being as spirited as we could be, helping the kids march and ride along.

When you're a parent, you do a lot of stupid stuff, I guess.  Just because.  But it was fun, and I didn't feel shy, and E had a great time, and I enjoyed the chance to do something out of the ordinary.

But E ate a piece of candy after the parade and didn't nap.  D and I got into a scuffle because I really, really, really needed space away from E, but he was busy doing other things.  (He even showed me the baby monitor in his hand, but then he fell asleep...)  I had to throw a tantrum, and it sounded way too much like the ones that E is throwing these days.  I'm sure she gets her tantrum-throwing abilities from me.

In fact, in the car she threw a massive tantrum after she ate the piece of candy (duh!).  D calmly asked her -- after ten minutes of screetching and writhing in her carseat -- what getting angry got her.  "Does it do anything to help your situation, E?"

"Yes!  It gives me badness.  I want badness."

I'm not sure if D could understand that feeling, but I sure could.  Sometimes it's really therapeutic to just be bad and mad and full of tantrum.  In fact, that is why I blog.  This is where I can be full of tantrum sometimes.  <smirk>

actual conversations with my family-of-origin

4th of July fireworks will happen tonight at my parents' house in Vancouver.  Since my brother and I live so close to one another, we're taking the van up together.  Fine.  Here's how the communication has gone this week:

Mom:  Are you coming up on Friday?

Me:  I don't know.  D asked, but I said, "I think mom and dad are grouchy these days."

Mom:  We are grouchy, but it would be nice to see you all and your brother and the boys, too.

Me:  Okay, will you tell Brother since he's not answering any of my emails?  Maybe we can travel up together.  D will be happy to hear that you're up for this.

-- two days later --

Brother:  So Mom hasn't invited me and the boys to the fourth of July thing.  Is this a private thing with just you guys?

Me:  Oh no...  it's not...  I thought she was going to call you.  It's no big deal.  Let's go up together, save gas.  We can stop and get fireworks on the way...  we did that last year.

-- later that night --

Me:  Hi, Mom.  I guess their was a communication gap.  Brother is worried that he's not invited on Friday.  Could you call him sometime soon and check in with him? 

Mom:  Oh, no, there was no communication gap.  I have been waiting for you to call me back to say if you're coming or not.

Me:  Oh, really?  Well, I told you that other night that we'd come up, and I asked if you'd call Brother since he hadn't been answering my emails.

Mom:  No, you're wrong.  You didn't say that.  I thought you had to check with D.

Me:  No, he's all fine with it.  We'll be up.  I just wonder if you might call Brother so that he hears a formal invitation from you, too?  It makes sense for us to travel together.  What time would you like us to arrive?

Mom:  I don't know.  I have to think about that.

-- yesterday --

Me:  Hey, Brother...  all set for tomorrow night?  When works for you?  Did Mom tell you when she wants us to get there?

Brother:  7pm, 9pm...  oh, I don't know.  You'll have to call her and talk to her yourself.

-- this morning --

Me:  Mom, I called Brother, and he told me to call you to find out when we should get there.

Mom:  Oh yeah... well...  I don't want anyone to get bored before it gets dark enough...  come whenever.  Just arrange it with your brother.

-- later this morning --

Me:  Brother, Mom says to come up whenever.  When do you want to get there?

Brother:  I don't know.  Two hours before dark?  1 hour before dark?  Why don't you tell me?

Me:  Well, why don't we leave at 6, stop and get fireworks and then just get there when we do?

Brother:  Okay.

-- early this afternoon --

Me:  Dad, I'm calling to let you know when we'll be coming tonight.  We're all coming up together.

Dad:  Let me get your mother.  Tell her when you'll be up.

-- 7 minutes later...  I've been holding all this time --

Mom:  Hi.  I was taking a break.

Me:  I just wanted to let you know that we'll leave at 6, stop and get fireworks and be over soon after.

Mom:  Okay.  See you tonight.

- - - - - -

Now...  you probably want to know why I didn't cut that off at the pass earlier in the week by suggesting to both my brother and mom that we all arrive together, sometime after 6?

Because my brother and mother confuse my need for clear communication with bossiness.  I'm the "selfish bitch" in the family.  And lately I've been trying to hang back a few paces to see if anyone else in my family might step in and communicate a bit.

Obviously, they don't step up.

Truly, the amount of energy I have expended trying to play this telephone game has shaved a few weeks off of my life.  I'm ready to strangle all of them.  And why couldn't my dad communicate a short message to my mother?  Good question.  They have been married for 45 years but don't talk about anything real anymore.

Fun times!

king corn

D and I finally watched King Corn tonight.  Its themes weave perfectly into the ideas we explored in the NW Earth Institute discussion group in which we participated recently -- Menu for the Future -- about food and sustainability.

There's a scene in the film when they try to make their own hig-fructose corn syrup, after discovering how omnipresent HFCS is in our food system.  One of the homework assignments in our discussion group was to look through our refrigerators and pantries to see how many items contained HFCS.  I was stunned to find so little at our house.  Even the ketchup I use doesn't have it.  But I needed some hot dog buns last week and tried to find some "healthy" (whole wheat) buns at the local regular grocery store, and I was bummed to see that they contained HFCS.  In the film, a spokesperson at a corn syrup plant mentioned how it's often used in breads because it helps achieve a golden color in the finished product.

Sometimes I feel as though all I can do to change the system is to change my own life.  We're working hard at changing the way we shop and make food at home.  It helps to read intelligent stuff from people like Michael Pollan or Barbara Kingsolver.  Truthfully, though, I'm just so appalled by conventional food growing and manufacturing practices that I can't find the words to fight for broader change.  Somehow, "Dear Ms. Congressperson:  That farm bill?  It's whack...like totally crazy," doesn't seem like it would accomplish anything positive.

But, then, I think that the political and corporate stupidity that has wrecked our world empowers itself by disempowering the public's sense of reason.  It's too convoluted and broken so I can't possibly work toward change so why bother?  Then the stupidity just grows.

Now I will shut up.