Author: jenzug

Small World

So I’m standing at the gate at the Seattle airport letting my kids run around a bit before strapping them in for a two hour flight, when a guy appears next to me and I INSTANTLY know who he is.

“Excuse me,” I say. “Are you married someone named Amanda?”

I think he freaks out a little, though I didn’t actually see it because I had to chase after Thomas. I don’t blame him for freaking out, because he’s not even in his home town and who in the world would recognize him in Seattle, right?

I return from the chase. “I read your wife’s blog and recognized you from her pictures.”

We were both totally floored by the chance meeting, and I’m glad we got to talk.

This year’s theme for Blogher is ‘How Has Your Blog Changed Your World,” and one way it has changed mine is to expand it. Here I was, talking to someone who was otherwise a total stranger, but sharing the blog-o-spere with his wife connected us.

And I don’t talk to strangers, so it was a big deal for me.

Crash and Burn

Drinking

Well it’s been a really shitty morning, but as I’ve had part of the afternoon to myself to reflect back on what happened I feel pretty convicted that my stinky attitude was at the core of its shittiness.

It kills me that my relationship with Ruthie is so bi-polar. At one moment I am totally in love with her, and even enjoy snuggling with her in bed on the nights Bryan is gone. Then suddenly I’m screaming at her in ways that I know will shame her and cut her down, all the while feeling the contradicting emotions of guilt and power and grief. I know what it is I am doing, yet, when I allow myself to get that far into it I cannot seem to stop.

This morning I was highly distracted by the computer. Bryan and I were IM’ing a conversation, and Ruthie hadn’t had any snuggle time with me yet. She was supposed to be sitting at the table eating her breakfast, but in my distraction she got into the bathroom, pulled out her stool, and was playing in the sink. I checked on her once and she seemed to be fine, so I went back to my computer.

An hour later when I decided it was a good time to take a break and go to the park, I went to the bathroom to put on my contacts and… no case. My contacts were gone. I realized she must have been playing with them when I was distracted, but I searched all over the bathroom, in the trash, the hamper, the magazine rack, EVERYWHERE, and I couldn’t find the case.

That’s when I blew up at her.

I was so angry that I was throwing stuff around as I searched other rooms for the case. The crazy thing is, I knew within ten minutes of looking that it was gone for good, yet I kept thrashing about the house because dammit if I’m going to let something like this be out of my control!

It was definitely a car stereo moment.

I finally gathered my senses enough to call somebody for help. I called three people, but nobody answered the phone. I left messages. I called them back again, and this time one gal answered.

“I need help,” I sobbed. “Can you come over?”

While I waited for her, another friend called me back and said she’d be right over.

I felt stupid. I felt weak. I felt incompetent. I felt like a failure for not being able to manage my own life. I struggled with asking for help, but in my recovery I knew it was the right thing to do.

One friend swooped in and calmed my screaming children. She helped me look one more time for the contacts case. She fed the kids lunch while I called my eye doctor to order an emergency pair of contacts.

The other friend took Ruthie home with her to play with her kids, and will keep her until dinner time.

The eye doctor couldn’t get my new contacts to me by the time my flight leaves tomorrow, but he has a pair of soft lenses I can borrow for free until my new rigid gas permeable ones come in tomorrow.

I am wearing them now.

The problem was solved quite simply and easily, except for my excessive temper. In retrospect, I am very ashamed of my actions, and I think this is one of the first times I have felt true remorse for my anger.

I spoke disrespectfully to my daughter, I disrupted the morning of two friends, I interrupted Bryan’s morning with my all-caps IM swearing about the incident – and I did it all because of my own selfishness and adolescent you-borrowed-my-jeans-without-asking mentality.

In retrospect, I know I had reason to be frustrated, but I took it too far. I ignored my triggers and allowed myself to blow up. I made it personal. I make everything personal. I never seem to remember in the moment that Ruthie is three, and she’s smart, and curious, and as Bryan said, she was probably sitting in front of the mirror pretending to be me. I forget that, and instead of celebrating her curiosity, I shit all over it and punish her for it by making it all about me.

I don’t know how to end this because I’m still processing, and still feeling crappy about it. I don’t have a tidy way to wrap it up. So I’ll just end it and hope a better post comes soon.

Blogher Session Choices

Day 1

I think I’ll attend this workshop on community-based blogs. I’m very invested in my offline community, and I’m interested in the discussion of creating online communities. Also, I follow Nancy White’s blog, and was even linked by her when I posted my Year of Melodic Shouting video. Her comments on that post really got me thinking about what effects the strength of my offline community has on my attachment to participating in online communities. Do they work together? Do they detract from one another?

For the second workshop I think I’ll attend this and this. I’m definitely interested in understanding my traffic statistics, especially since I get a lot of traffic from Google searches. I’m also interested in building a greater audience, but TRYING to build an audience seems so contrived, so I’m anxious to hear what Elise has to say. And the writing workshop is perfect because much of what I publish on my blog is essentially a way for me to practice the craft of writing.

For the third workshop I definitely want to attend this session on video blogging because, as you may have noticed, I’ve been doing it a lot lately. As for the other workshop, I can’t decide between this session on design customization, or this session on tagging tools. I’m leaning more toward the first – any suggestions?

Day 2

I was thinking about attending this session on identity obligations because, though I’m a Christian, I’m very intentional about keeping my writing personal rather than preachy. But then, I just don’t think I can miss this discussion on Mommy blogging. Am I a mommy blogger? Though I do write about my experiences as a parent, I feel I want to be known for much more than “just” a mommy blogger. But why? What’s wrong with being seen as a mommy blogger? And why do moms so often search for something “more” than being a mom?

Again, a tough choice for session 2. I’m intrigued by this session on sex because, for cryin’ out loud, I haven’t talked about EVERYTHING on my blog yet. But I may attend this session because I blab about ALL my issues quite frankly, AND I have co-dependent tendencies, and it just seems like a good idea to hear some of these stories. Any thoughts?

And finally, for session 3, I plan to attend this session on getting naked because, well, I’m pretty naked. Pros? Cons? Plus, my friend Maryam is on the panel!

If you have any input, I would appreciate it, particularly because I’m doing a rush job of researching all this and my brain hurts from thinking too much. I’m hoping I will have the energy to blog my thoughts about each session at some point during the weekend.

Psssst…. I’m Going to Blogher!

BlogHer

A couple months ago when registration opened for Blogher, I really wanted to go, but knowing it came the weekend following our camping trip, and because I was still feeling overwhelmed by the simple things at the time, I didn’t think I could handle back to back trips.

Enter my friend, Ponzi, who sent word out to our Divas book club last week that she had a couple extra passes for Blogher. I immediately jumped on the chance to attend because at present I am feeling much less overwhelmed (thank you, Ponzi!).

I’m flying down to San Jose with the kids on Thursday to meet Bryan, who works onsite at Stanford Hospital eight days out of the month, and he plans to entertain the boogers while I hang with the ladies!

After reading this article about how many are preparing for the trip, I started to feel a bit nervous that the only thing I’ve really done to prepare is pluck the black whiskers that grow in around my jaw line.

But then again, I did get a late start.

After watching Bryan come home from Gnomedex and Mindcamp with stacks of business cards from people he’d met, I asked if he had time to make me some simple cards with my blog address and cell number to exchange with ladies that I meet.

He said he’d try, but no promises. (Just between you and me, I knew he would do it because he believes in the power of networking. But I let him think he was dangling me in uncertainty).

I’m so excited at what he created! Here’s the front…

business cards_front

And here’s the back…

business cards_back

The cartoon design is by a guy named Hugh at gapingvoid.com. He creates these funny designs in his spare time, and funds the website by selling Stormhoek wine. So buy some wine!

After I peruse the schedule a bit, I’ll post which seminars I plan to attend.

Watch Out For That Tree!!!

New Hair Cuts

The other day Ruthie and I walked down the street to get our hair cut. On the way home she ran ahead of me, turning her head to see if I was watching how fast she was running. I contorted my body in all sorts of directions as she approached a tree on the edge of the sidewalk, not really finding the words to warn her in my panic. She turned just in time to see the tree, but still bumped into it and fell back onto her bum.

In these situations, sadly, my first response tends to be laughter – because it was kind of funny, and I could see she was okay.

She was more stunned and embarrassed than she was hurt. Nonetheless, as she continued to run down the sidewalk she would holler, “OH NO! TREE!” and veer hard right to get out of its path.

This was problematic since we were planning a camping trip in the woods.

With lots of trees.

But her wariness of trees didn’t last long, and we were able to camp in a grove of trees without any one of them running into her.

Are We There Yet?

Entertained by empty water bottles

Just got back last night from our annual camping trip to Orcas Island in the San Juans. Getting there involves two hours of driving, an hour ferry ride, and what turned out to be a four hour wait for the ferry because the first one we tried for was full.

It started off pleasantly enough when Ruthie realized we were taking a ferry to our destination, and she started hollering, “WHERE’S OUR LIFE JACKETS? WHERE’S OUR LIFE JACKETS?”

Thank you, Dora. So much.

But we missed the first ferry and it was a three hour wait until the next one, which turned into a four hour wait because it was late, and you’d think with waits like that there would be something to do to pass the time – but there is really. nothing. to do. (stupid, state-run ferry). Well, there were some rugged, death defying paths down a steep embankment to the beach, but I was wearing my pretty sandals instead of my functional sandals, so there was no way I was getting down there without breaking my neck or getting the worst ‘rug burn’ on my ass that is humanly possible.

So we wandered around for a couple hours until Bryan finally decided it was worth it to pull Ruthie’s tricycle out of the car. And after dragging her around the hot pavement for an hour we decided that tricycles SUCK because you can’t get any leverage with the pedals directly on the front wheel.

Then after awhile we all smooshed into the front seat of the car to keep everyone contained without having to do any actually running, and I decided it was a good idea to hand out fruit leathers, which resulted in very sticky fingers in a very crowded and enclosed space.

Sticky hands on a son who uses your boobs as handles to pull himself up – the aftermath can be disturbing to the random passerby.

So when you add an extra three hours to your travel time that happens to extend over the dinner hour, and your husband missed his nap time, and your three year old is being extremely high maintenance with the running into traffic thing … it makes for a long day.

But we survived, albeit with a little time shaved off the end of my life.

On the way home we were hoping to catch the 1:30 ferry from Orcas Island, but it was filled up long before we even left our camp site because all the morning ferries were full and spilling over. BAH. We then had to wait for the 4:20 ferry, which was delayed on Shaw Island for an extra forty-five minutes due to a “passenger situation.”

At least on the return trip we were waiting with friends who also had toddlers, so they spent four hours filling empty water bottles with gravel, eating grass, and generally nitpicking each other – but at lease they left us out of it.

Oh, did I mention that there were NINE preschoolers and toddlers in our group? And that NONE of them had a nap because we were sitting in the dead grass waiting for the ferry all afternoon? Well, none of them except for Thomas.

It was fun to be with friends, and the group thing helped relieve the stress, and Ruthie ONLY ran away from us twice that afternoon. That’s a record for her.

The Day Camp Experience

It’s Monday morning, and thank the good Lord in heaven I don’t have to go anywhere today. When Ruthie starts school full time I’m screwed, because the one thing about motherhood that agrees with me is the part about not having to be anywhere in particular. Ruthie was in day camp last week, and by the time my alarm went off on Thursday I was so DONE with the morning rush and just wanted to sit in my p.j.’s with my coffee while the kids took turns playing in the toilet.

I’ve definitely grown accustomed to the leisurely morning. I hate showering right after waking up because it signals the beginning of productivity. Showering also means I have to then do something with my face and my hair and put on actual clothes, and that really takes the leisure out of the morning.

But it was a good trial run, because now I know the clock is ticking on my lazy ass days. From now on I will be taking full advantage.

I really thought Ruthie would talk unendingly about her days in “school” – which is what we had to start calling it because she kept confusing ‘day camp’ with the fact that we are going ‘camping’ next week – but she never really said a thing. The most I got out of her was when she started walking around on all fours meowing like a cat, and when I asked her if she learned to walk like a cat in school she said … yup. And that was pretty much the extent of it.

I found myself falling into my old peer pressure ways, too, checking myself out in the mirror before we left to make sure I would impress the other moms. I hated the one morning when I went to the gym after dropping her off because, as great as some people might look in work-out wear, I am not that impressive. I actually considered, for one brief moment, the benefits of dressing up to drop her off then running home to change into my gym clothes.

I know. Gross! For the love of Pete, I’m 34 years old and worried about looking cool to the other moms! But it’s true, I did struggle with that. Honestly, though, I think it was a fleeting issue, and mostly because I’m so used to my comfort zone of friends and Safeway check-out girls that I experienced a little culture shock of the world beyond my toddlers.

I did manage to get past my own silly issues long enough to have A Moment. It was a moment of pride, of overwhelming love, of anticipating new chapters: my little girl is growing up. She is tall, and runs fast, and thinks for herself, and makes decisions, and walks into a classroom to engage in learning.

I have been in denial of the impending school years because for now she is all mine, and I’m selfish like that. I love her painfully, and I’m all she ever really wants, and I know someday that will change. And as dysfunctional as I can be, at least right now I’m the only one fucking her up. Her mess is my mess, and we can work through that together. But one day girls will be mean, or a boy will dump her, or a close friend will die, and her mess will be so much more complicated.

I fear she won’t need me anymore. Or that what I have to offer will no longer be comforting. Or that I won’t know what to do.

Good grief. After four mornings of day camp I need co-dependency therapy.

Ruthie Sings the A, B, C’s (with Thomas accompanying)

Here are the top five reasons why I love this video:

1. Ruthie’s fingernails are painted with blue markers because I won’t put nail polish on her fingernails while she still sucks her thumb.

2. She sings this song at top volume all. day. long. and somebody else needs to know this.

3. You get to hear how cute she sounds when she sings, “Next time won’t-chya sing with me…”

4. She is wearing only her underpants, which needs to be documented. Ruthie hardly ever wears clothes around the house, mostly because she has to be able to see her cute underpants at all times. But also because clothes are just so restricting, ya know?

5. Someday when she and Thomas go on the road, I’ll have it on video how their famous band got its start!

Summer Fun

Last Spring we bought a new patio set and fire pit for our deck. We opted to go with the ‘converstation’ style set, rather than a typical dining table and chairs because we wanted an outdoor living room feel. I have never regretting our decision, and the more we use the deck space, the more in love with it I become.

Again this evening we talked about walking to the park, but in the end decided to stay in our own yard. The kids played in the sandbox, Bryan read a book, and I did a little theraputic weeding, and it was divine.

More and more our yard is feeling like an oasis, and my vision for the space continues to grow. Just last Sunday I read an article in the Seattle Times’ Pacific Northwest Magazine about a garden makeover for small spaces, which happened to also be for a family with small children. I fell in love with the idea of a small brick path meandering through my yard for the kids to ride their bikes, and a playhouse built on stilts over our current play area, and a beautiful mosaic at the base of our front steps to welcome friends and strangers. Fun ideas to plan for and save money for.

Last year was such a bust for entertaining because Thomas was new and I was a mess of depressed hormones. It killed me to not be entertaining, as throwing parties is one of my most favorite things to do. But I kept reminding myself it was just a season, and soon our doors would be open again, and they are. Yipee! Here is a collage of photos from some of our fun times so far this summer. If you’re not in these photos yet, I hope you can join us soon!

Too Much Information

I just took a break from cleaning to catch up on a few blog reads. The short break turned into a long break, and now I have many rabbit-trail links open that I really don’t have time to follow up on now.

Sigh.

It’s ironic to me that as much as I HATE reading stuff on the computer (I used to print out all my emails and documents to read them), I LOVE reading blogs and following links and finding new people and interesting resources. But after awhile I find myself going cross-eyed and skimming too quickly.

I’ve tried using a “readthis” tag in my del.isio.us account, but the problem there is I forget to open that website to read what I’ve tagged! Also, I have a lot of blogs and sites running through my Bloglines feed reader, but many of them are stacked to the max with entries waiting to be read. I just can’t keep up.

Do you read lots of blogs? Do you like to follow links? How do you filter through which blogs you continue to follow and which ones you just check out a couple times?

Linked below are some of the rabbit trail links I didn’t have time to read, but maybe posting them here will remind me to look into them later.

Beatiful Pain: Women in Rock

Raising support for a cause

The Shape of a Mother

Is marriage or children your highest priority?

Echo-friendly cleaning products

Read This Before Discontinuing Birth Control

This afternoon Thomas started crying shortly after he fell asleep, which could only mean one thing: he had pooped. He mellowed out to a quiet fuss, so I finished my lunch and read a few blogs before I went upstairs to change his diaper. I’m one of the lucky ones, in that I can get away with changing his diaper in the middle of his nap because he’ll just go back to sleep.

Walking into his room confirmed it – the stench was definitely poop.

But when I walked up to his crib I saw the monkey cage he had created – he had taken off his diaper and was rolling around in… it.

I know, I know, it’s gross and I’m talking about it. I actually started laughing. It’s just been that kind of day, what with the rat making another appearance during lunch. Also, I was remembering the monkeys from Madagascar, when they got busted trying to escape the zoo: “If you have poo, fling it now!”

I give up. I’m not cleaning the house today. I just spent too much energy washing poop off babies, out of clothes, and out of sheets. I’m done.

Starbuck’s anyone?

Exposed

Last night I experienced the really icky feeling of getting busted in the act.

You see, I can be really honest with my friends about what I do, I can relay a story to Bryan from the day, I can even blab about my issues on the internet – but I am still in control of the information flow. You hear what I want you to hear, and see what I want you to see. Even in all my dysfunction, I can come out of a blog post looking as good or as bad as I deem appropriate for the sake of storytelling.

But last night my ugliness was exposed in real time as the kids and I had our evening chat with Bryan over Skype with the web cam. It wasn’t anything huge, really. I simply became impatient with Ruthie over something, and cut the activity off abruptly.

Later, over an IM conversation, Bryan mentioned how sad it made him to see me shut her down so quickly.

I felt like the air had been let out of me.

My first instinct was to be defensive, make excuses, shift the blame, be the victim, accuse him of having NO IDEA what I have to deal with on a daily basis. But instead I stopped. And I wrestled with his words. And I let them sink in.

Honestly, I think God grabbed a hold of my tongue. Or my fingers, rather, since we were typing. When it comes to fight or flight responses, I’m definitely a fighter, and I really wanted to argue with him about what an asshole he was. But like I said, I had the air let out of me, and I could do nothing but ponder his words.

Then I just felt broken and I started crying. I thought about all the shit I’d given Bryan over the last year when all he’s been trying to do is help me. And even though the way he tries to help me is sometimes not very helpful to me, at least he cares enough to try and help, and now he’s even hearing me better when I try to explain why his help isn’t always helpful, and I give him lots of really good sex when his help IS really helpful so he is sure to remember that stuff for the next time (it’s all about association, right?).

I think the clincher came when I really felt validated by him.

After he stated the obvious, I shot back with a really bitchy, “don’t you think I know that?” sort of response. To which he responded, and I quote: “I think you know it, but that you are still learning to know it.”

And that was all I needed to hear for my heart to melt and receive what he had to say.

I don’t like it when he sees me at my ugliest, especially when it involves the kids. I don’t always treat him well when he tries to intervene or calm me down. But last night he was so tender – I guess you could say he spoke my language. Or the planets were aligned. Or the gods were smiling on me. Or whatever.

But despite my ugliness, he still made me feel beautiful.