nineslice

I spent a beautiful day in the park with my friend Emilie talking about why I’m not writing and why it’s pathetic that I’m leading an inauthentic life and that everyday I think about writing and that it’s a dark stain on my soul that I don’t do it. And on and on. Really stupid and sad. And so if I can’t wake up early tomorrow morning and write something after all that, then I have no will, no power to make things happen, to make a change. And I will have to poop on my own head.

Today was crazy because Olivia had several nervous breakdowns mostly because she must not have eaten her lunch at school–she was hungry and I didn’t realize it–and she definitely has not been getting enough sleep. I guess it all came together into a tsunami of disability on her part. I feel bad that I’m not supplying her with what she needs. The first breakdown came while playing Chutes and Ladders, which I now officially hate. I kept prodding Olivia to count the squares correctly and not fly her piece all around like a lunatic and finally she just went ballastic on me. Hissed and got all red faced and screaming at me.

For all my desire to do right by them and all the money I spend on books and toys and games, I’m not sure we ever really get to a good place with any of them. Maybe it’s the way I do it, but I can’t figure out a better way. Olivia is the most difficult one. If I tell her how to do something and certainly if I correct her, she doesn’t want to do it anymore. So maybe just let her figure it out? That seems a little lame. I also worry that they don’t play with anything for any concentrated period of time.

I definitely get frustrated with them too often, too quick. I think I am a kind mom and I don’t have many rules and am not a big disciplinarian, but I do get frustrated and have a short fuse. I’ve got to get better about stopping. My own mom was impatient and easily provoked and yelled at us too often and I hated it. So why am I doing the same thing? Simply because I witnessed it, does it seem like an appropriate response?

I keep thinking about hiring a lifecoach and then I don’t do it. I have the name of someone who is highly recommended and I’ve even told people I’m going to do it, and I still don’t do it. Why? Work has been crazy lately, many late nights, always working and that’s one reason. No time to even think, which means I don’t take action. Or maybe I don’t really truly think I need one. Last night I went to bed at 8:30 with the kids and then woke up at 2:00 and could not go back to sleep at all, until about 7:00 this morning. Slept till 8:20. Somewhere in there I decided I did not need to send the kids to the Montessori School this year and that was helpful. So it’s either the school on 46th or the one on 47th. Either will be fine. I also went yesterday to the Apple store because my phone wasn’t getting any 3G reception and while waiting to see a helpful genius I came to some conclusions. Or maybe it was the night before. While I got a pedicure? Anyway, somehow some things became clear to me recently, so I just wanted to memorialize them.
           I’m going to finish the novel, I’m going to take violin lessons, and I’m going to take a psychology class in the fall at Queens College that might someday lead to a more satisfying career as a school psychologist. Please make this happen.
           On the novel front, I had an interesting conversation with my brother over breakfast one morning in Navasota. I told him the plot and why it sucks and in a very short amount of time he gave me some very good suggestions: that the search for the meaning in the painting is what the book is about and that I should put the rest of the chapters about what’s happened in the past as flashback. And then he also said that when he discovers the meaning of the painting, that’s the end of the book. It all makes sense to me. I’m impressed that he gave me this stuff so quickly. Especially cause he’s still such an annoying person.

It’s 12:46 am and I have to get to sleep. The topic seems so overwhelmingly basic I figure I can get it all out fast; I’m tired, it’s late, I’ll answer the question so I can sleep. But now it’s making me nervous.

It makes me happy: 1. to be in/live in/think about living in a well-designed space 2. to write fiction (although it also makes me miserable; how can I seriously put this as no. 2 when I so rarely do it ?) 3. reading  4. being with my kids 5. dinner with my husband 6. to do anything with Bethany 7. swimming, but not in cold water 8. taking baths 9. talking with interesting people

This is a boring list. Somehow I thought I could get closer to me, who I am, like I could objectively define myself by making a happy list, then step back and see the picture of who I am and it would lead me somewhere. Let me try harder.

It makes me happy: 1. simple sparse beautiful places to live 2. being in control of myself with the kids; being in the moment with them; listening to them 3. talking to my husband, who’s smart and wonderful 4. being in an art museum and seeing something weird and wonderful that I feel close to and inspired by 5. being outside, all of that: smelling the air, seeing the mountains, the grass, the flowers, the realness 6. I’m going to take violin lessons and I’m super excited 7. reading

This still sounds boring. Does nothing make me happy but these mundane things or do I not recognize what makes me happy or I’m just not articulating it? It still doesn’t feel right.

What Makes Me Happy: 1. when I’m truly myself for a moment and I feel it–when I’m not hiding but being real, when I can be out 2. when I do kind things for other people (oddly, sometimes I want to, but stop myself, as it seems too weird or too sensitive or out of the ordinary) 3. moments of realization which happen in museums or in conversation where you connect over something, moments where someone is honest and truthful. Bethany is often this way 4. those kisses from O&P and the way their hand feels in mine and their tiny sweet voices that say funny things. 5. Planning something well, knowing I’ve looked at it from every angle and that I’m right; having the plan turn out right 6. Following my gut instincts and being correct

I’m tired. Stopping.

P.S. I did a two-minute meditation this morning, and immediately I was telling myself to “be more daring.” I would like it if meditation were about getting me to hear my inner voice more clearly.

I must leave the apartment in five minutes to pick up the kids, but I’ve been keeping a list of things to write about and so want to get this sent out my fingers. The topic is how to get done the things I really need to get done, the important things. There are 10,000 things I could do and need to do every day, so which ones do I give attention to, which ones get accomplished? I guess in choosing those things, I’m making my life, I’m shaping it. And many times I don’t do the things I want, even little things, out of fear. Fear is another post, but I think fear is not this huge FEAR but materializes as stress and procrastination. And then the rub is that it’s usually over nothing, there’s no reason for the fear at all. It’s all invented fear. So maybe I should only do those things I’m most fearful or procrastinatory about. I meditated this morning for five minutes but don’t understand whether I should be thinking about nothing or thinking about the most important things in my life–letting those bubble up to the surface. So my big idea–to close this out–was to meditate and then write down three items that are the ones to absolutely get done. But not call the plumber, only meaningful items. Maybe it’s not a to-do list, it’s a Make Meaning in the World List, so it’s a whole separate category.

The naked hairy lump of my problem is that I procrastinate and that I don’t focus, or maybe that I don’t really care if I accomplish anything even though I say I do? I don’t know why I’m not more action oriented in my life. Now that I have time, I don’t know why I’m not getting the things done that I believe would make me the happiest. If I want to write a novel, why don’t I do that?

On Tuesday night I helped out a mom in the neighborhood who is studying to be a lifecoach by volunteering to have a coaching conversation. And it was good, quite useful, makes me think a life coach would be great. But we set specific goals for this week: two writing sessions, moving my desk to a better spot for working and getting in touch with a writer’s group. Sounded simple and motivating on Tuesday, but yet I’ve done nothing so far. The freaky thing is I’m comfortable, kind of happy, having plans for things that are easy enough to do, but not doing them. I suppose not doing them means that I still have those nicely defined plans out there to do when I want. Not scary at all. I’d really like an answer to why I do this. Is this rooted in childhood?

In a meeting at work today I thought about going for the challenge, as that’s where the interest lies, and do I back away from that habitually or not. I don’t know–I think I rise to those challenges when I really want or need something but then get too wrapped up in the mundane the rest of the time.

I haven’t gotten the hang of my new schedule yet, but I’m really loving it. I think I can get one big thing done in the morning. After considering driving to the Salvation Army today to drop off clothes, I finally persuaded a mom-friend who lives down the street to take my bag, which I was happy about. More time to look at beds online. After I picked up the kids at noon, we went to the Sunnyside Library, a first for us. It was great; the kids picked out lots of books, and I saw some mom-friends too. I have fond memories of going to the library as a kid, such a place of rescue. I want them to feel the same.

The afternoon went less smoothly in that they didn’t NAP. They always sleep for at least two hours, so this was weird. And then I had to work, so our cozy world devolved into me on the computer ignoring them while they unhappily watched a Miyazaki film they’ve seen too many times now. And then I ordered Mexican food, as it’s scary to have no dinner on the docket and grumpy tired kids. Organization is going to be key to making this all work. They did go to bed earlier than usual which was great. It might be worth it to phase out naps. Maybe.

Starting next week I’ll pick the kids up from pre-school at noon, so I have just today and Friday to clean and organize. I went through the closets and sorted out some clothes I don’t wear.  The big deal about wire vs wooden hangers escaped me at the start, but once the bendy, crooked, wiry ones are gone, the clothes are easier to manage. The wooden guys take up more space though. I had wanted to go to IKEA today to look at the cheap bed with the storage drawers underneath, but I just realized husband has the car keys. So I’ll keep cleaning, although I had been looking forward to the trip.

I was at the gym this morning picturing the garden that the kids and I would plant this summer and then wondered whether I’m even interested in gardening. I like having flowers to look at and I like the feeling that nicely shaped and positioned trees and plants give me, but does that mean I care about how to get there? The dirt and the trowels and all that. Crap, I feel so removed from knowing these things about myself, I’m been pretending and assimilating and getting along for so long, I can’t find the nubbin of self.

Husband and I are headed out for a day of fun to celebrate my birthday, and I’m looking forward to it. I wish he’d hurry up and get ready so we can leave already. I’ll go start the dishwasher.

Starting a blog: how generic. But after three crazy years of babies who don’t sleep at night and a job handling the dark matter, I’m making a break, moving on, finding a personality. Let’s see what emerges. Got to cook more in my new red pot. Stew and cake. Write that thing, get it done, exercise, know people again.