Reason

I do not want to be the depressed mom.

Last night, when I was writing my latest "depression and I are fighting again" post, I was sitting across from Meg as she played with her new hand me down princess make-up kit, and watched "Toy Story 3."

I started crying. I didn't mean to, and I don't like to cry in front of Meg, but the tears just started.

She looked at me and said "don't be sad." I said I wasn't, that I was okay. She said "I'm getting down for you," and hopped out of her chair. She walked around the table and took my hand. "C'mere," she said, and led me back to her side of the table. "Sit down," she said, and I did. She climbed up on my lap, put her head on my chest, and we watched the movie together.

I was really touched. I felt so loved, and so safe. I was going to blog about how wonderful she is, and how we take care of each other. Then, this morning, I woke up and I felt so angry. Not at Meg, but at me. No 2-year old should have to comfort their parent. I mean, maybe in a bruised knuckle situation, but nothing like this.

She deserves better. The dog? Maybe not...

So, now I have another reason to make changes. Actually, I have the biggest reason to make changes. My child will not grow up wondering when Mom's next crying fit might come, or if it's one of those "crazy" days. She will not have to feel like she is my emotional support, but will know I am hers. She will be the child, and the most loved child, at that.

It's been easy in the past to let myself down. After all, I thought I was a failure to begin with. Now, though, I am not going to let Meg down. She deserves more.

Operation better attitude starts now.

Attitude Adjustment

My attitude, as of late, sucks.

There is no other way to say it. No way to sugar coat it, or chalk it up to "low self esteem" or "seasonal malaise." It isn't a funny, crumudgeonly "you kids get off my lawn" type, or a snarky "what is Ann Curry wearing today" kind. It's a dark, and bitter attitude; one that wallows in defeat, and sees little hope in the future. It laughs at motivational techniques, or looking on the bright side. It's demanding too. It will wake me up in the middle of the night just to remind me what a failure I am, how I have let all of my potential go by, how it is too late to do anything about it, and how it is all my fault.

I told you: it just totally sucks.

And you were wondering why I haven't been blogging more often. I figured you could just read some Bukowski.

I would love to say this is just depression, but this doesn't feel the depression of the past. With that it feels like something outside of me. Something that I could alter with my medications or with therapy. This feels different. It feels organic, and deep rooted. However, unlike the regular depression, this doesn't feel like something I have to treat with drugs, or therapy. This feels like something I can take action to change. Actually, I think the only way to fix it is to make changes. To do something.

I just need to figure out what that something is.

Running?

Writing? If so, about what?

Erotic French Cooking Classes? No, I'm afraid of the oil burns. I don't think a trip to the ER would give me the sense of accomplishment and well being I seek.

Learn how to play an instrument? Do people still appreciate the Sousaphone?

Maybe saying one nice thing a day about my life, and concentrating on that? Could it be that simple?

Well, that would at least be slightly less sucky... I guess that's something.

Wallet Woes

I am considering having my wallet surgically implanted in my arm. I think it's the only way I can guarantee I have it when I need it. You know, like when I need to pay for something.

I never used to have a problem remembering my wallet. It was always in my purse, right where I needed it. However, with a toddler, the number of things I have in my purse has grown, and the frequency of my taking those things in and out has increased, meaning that sometimes something gets left behind. When it's my sunglasses? No problem. Tic Tacs? Still not a problem, as long as we can avoid tantrums. The wallet though, that's a problem.

You would think that after the first, or fifth time getting up to the cash register and realizing I have no way to pay I would just get in the habit of making sure my wallet is in my purse before I leave the house or enter a store. Or, maybe the fact that on several occasions it has lead to me technically shoplifting because I leave the store with Meg eating a treat we haven't yet paid for would do it instead. Yeah, I would think that too. Apparently though, I like lugging a toddler in and out of stores, wasting time rerunning errands too much, and risking being the target of dicky store security to start giving myself little reminders.

Luckily, it appears I am not the only idiot in the world. Pretty much every time I have forgotten my wallet the clerk has just put my stuff aside, and then continued the transaction when I return. Either that, or I am the only idiot in the world, and they take pity on me because I look so pathetic.

They won't pity me though once I have my awesome arm wallet though...

"Something" in the Way She Moves

There are four words that can now send me sprinting to Meg, to matter where I am, or what I am doing. Those words? "I'm just doing something." They seem harmless enough, just an update on daily life, but coming from Meg's mouth they mean she is just doing something she shouldn't.

In the past two weeks "doing something" has meant emptying an entire bottle of shampoo into the (empty) tub, climbing up onto the table to reach the iPad, emptying my purse to find Tic Tacs, and munching on a half a stick of butter she found in the fridge.

Eating a handful of whipped cream is definitely "something."

Most of the time when Meg is caught she's very happy to stop what she was doing and avoid a confrontation. I guess she figures she got away with it long enough, and there's more fun to bed had later. Of course, once in a while she decides to push it a bit further. She doesn't scream or throw herself to the floor (at least not right away), instead she just puts on her sweetest face, flashes her dimples and says "just a little bit."

There are obvious times when I have to say no to the "little bit" plea, and brace for the potential tantrum: knife fights and poison drinking for example. Kidding. We all know those things will toughen her up...

Now, that time I was really kidding.

Obviously, if she is up on a table, or touching something dangerous, the answer is no. If it's just one more lick of butter, or the last squirt of shampoo into an already massive mess though, I usually give in. After all, I am learning very quickly that parenting means picking your battles. I figure if I battle every thing, I will never win anything.

Of course, I could be wrong. In that case I just hope I don't "doing something" doesn't end up being stealing cars...

The Time of His Life

In the past week Ryan and I have discovered that Netflix has many of our 1980's favorites on demand. We've watched "Lost Boys," and "St. Elmo's Fire" and Saturday night (date night) I had the perfect film picked out -- "Dirty Dancing."

Ryan was NOT excited. Not even in a "nostalgic, wow we were young when this movie came out isn't it corny to watch it now" kind of way. He suggested a compromise, but "Point Break" isn't available for streaming. Besides, I wanted something romantic, not bromantic.

I made him a deal.

If he would sit through a 30 minute, fast forwarding to all of my favorite parts "Dirty Dancing" viewing without any snide comments or eye rolling, then he could decide what we would do with the rest of the time until we had to go pick up Meg from my parents -- maybe even a little dirty dancing of our own.

He almost made it.

In the last scene, where Johnny Castle and Baby are dancing together for all the world to see, Ryan just couldn't help himself. A huge sigh escaped his lips, and he said "oh, just kiss him, he's so dreamy." His eyes were rolling so hard in his head I could hear them.

Poor guy. A deal is a deal though.

I might give him another chance though. I just found out "Strictly Ballroom" is available for streaming...

This Makes Sense

I only like to wash my hair on Wednesdays and Sundays, which is why I am thankful for "PSSSSST!"

Don't look at me like that. It makes perfect sense.

No, really stop it. I am NOT crazy. Did my husband tell you I was crazy? Because there are plenty of things I could tell you about him.

Okay, I'll explain.

Since my hair has gotten longer (epically long in my opinion, but that's another story), I have cut down on how often I wash it so it doesn't become a static cling nightmare. I have figured out that if I wash it every three days then I don't look like Yahoo Serious, or an oil slick. Because I work at the crack of dawn, I prefer if only one of these days falls on a weekday.

My plan would be perfect if there were only six days a week. Damn Saturday.

In my previous world Saturday meant either washing, and then washing again on Sunday to set the schedule right, and the static balance of my hair wrong; or NOT washing, and looking like a walking rendition of the gulf coast following the BP spill.

Then, I discovered "PSSSST!"

No, it's not a spy firm, or a porn firm, or a compressed air firm. It's a dry shampoo. Several sprays on Saturday means I don't have to wash my hair, and no one thinks I am going to ask them for money. Oh, and my schedule stays in tact.

See? It makes sense. Right? When I told my husband about it he asked me if I also like to drive slow on the driveway and if I buy my underwear at K-Mart. You don't think that though, do you?

Do you?

Oh, god, you do.

The Toddler Diet

Meg is becoming a picky eater. Wait, no that's not right. She's not picky about what she eats, she's just picky about when she eats it. So, I guess you could say Meg is becoming a sporadic eater.

There are days that all she will eat are a few blueberries and maybe a glass of milk. It doesn't matter what I offer her, how I offer it, she won't eat anything else. She will drink water, but only if it's sparkly water, or maybe mixed with a little bit of apple juice. Not too much apple juice though, she doesn't "yike it" when it actually may deliver some nutrients and calories to her body.

Nope, not eating the candy. Just looking at it.

There are also days when Meg seems to be hollow inside and will eat everything in site. Actually, "days" is being too hopeful. There are hours, or meals when she will devour everything. She will eat her entire plate of food, and then ask for seconds while starting in on mine or Ryan's. She will eat banana after banana after apple and then want string cheese and pasta.

We've tried to alter Meg's dietary habits. We've done the "take three bites" stuff. We've tried to supplement her diet on non-eating days with Ensure. We've tried offering treats and incentives. Nothing has worked. Apparently our efforts aren't really necessary, because her energy level doesn't seem to waver no matter if she's eaten a full meal, or two saltines and a pat of butter. Actually, in Meg's case it would be three pats of butter, hold the saltine. Butter is the one food that is always welcome in Meg's world.

Now we are just letting Meg be Meg. If she doesn't want to eat, we don't make her. When she does, we are at her beck and call. I know some people might think that's being indulgent, but I would rather do that than force her to eat, and have her develop some weird love/hate relationship with food. She still knows that we all sit together to eat, and that not wanting to eat doesn't mean she's excused. Of course, she also knows that if she decides to eat later we can always pull out leftovers.

I just wonder how long it will be until she is joining me for my midnight snacks...

Ch-ch-ch-changes

If you visited my blog in the past four days you may have noticed a theme. Or actually, several different themes. That's right, the changing of the seasons inspired me to do a little blog sprucing up. Since I have no html skills, and no web designer friends, that meant trawling the Interwebs for a blog template. Now, I like to think I have seen a lot of blogs, and that I know what bloggers like in a look. However, I must have been wrong, because blog template designers think they like crap. Really, if I saw one more misty, swirly, kind of disco, but with a Precious Moments touch template I was going to throw my laptop out the window.

I thought about making a bug change and adding a little more color, a little more whimsy, but in the end decided I wanted people to actually recognize the place. If you stumbled onto one of the "whimsical" try outs I am sure it was like walking into a bar, only to be greeted by a florist. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.

So, I hope you like the new look. If you don't, just wait until the spring...

How to Deal with Crazy

I like to think I have experience with crazy. After all, I've been living with it for more than half my life. At times I have truly believed my biggest accomplishment is not letting anxiety and depression crush me into a cube like a cosmic garbage compactor.

Since I have had to live with crazy pretty much anyone who has wanted to be even a semi-permanent part of my life has had to deal with it too. I known people who have dealt with it well. I have known with people who couldn't deal with it at all. The best ones, though, are the ones who don't deal with it at all, but deal with me instead and help me come through it as unscathed as possible.

So, how does one do that, should one encounter someone suffering from crazy? After years and years of research I think I have come up with a short list that may help...

1. Never assume it is about you. It isn't. It's crazy. Even if the person in question is going on and on about how their life sucks, and you are a big part of that life, it STILL has nothing to do with you. Trying to determine what role you play in causing the crazy, or how it is affecting your relationship is for later, not in the moment. In the moment it will just make the crazy person crazier because they will assume they have hurt your feelings, or that you hate them. Both are rocket fuel for crazy.

2. Don't try to force them to stop being crazy. If they could stop the crazy, they would. Telling them are being embarrassing, or unreasonable, or ridiculous, or that they just need to "knock it off" will just reinforce the thoughts they are already having, and prolong the crazy.

3. If you are worried about saying the wrong thing, don't say anything. You never know what a person in the middle of crazy is going to take the wrong way. Sometimes just being there, and letting them know you aren't leaving is the best thing you can do.

4. Let them cry. Sometimes it is the best thing to wash all the crazy away.

5. Let them know you still see them through the crazy. This is the big one, and the best way to make crazy go away fast. Let them know, in any way you can, that this is temporary, that it is something they are dealing with, and not who they are.

There are other little things to do, like making sure they have taken their meds, telling stupid jokes, eating carbs, and making sure they are cool with the term "crazy" before using it (I, myself, have embraced it), but those are the big five.

Oh, and when all else fails, remember, this is someone you care for, crazy or not. Fall back on that to guide your actions, and everything should be okay.