August 11, 2004

Huh.  I thought that date was familiar.  Exactly 27 years ago today, my first husband went into the Air Force.  When I was growing up, my phone number was 502-275-4004.  My locker combination in my sophomore year of high school was 5-18-24.  My dead grandmother's phone number was 502-275-4531.  My father's CB call letters were KSH-4678.  I also know my ex-husband's social security number, but likely should not rattle it off here.  Why can I remember all this shit, but don't have a clue where the hell my keys are?  I wish I'd kept better records of my children's babyhoods because a lot of things that happened are jumbled in my head as to what happened to which kids.  I remember how great they were as kids and specifics about each child, but some of the details are lost. 

For many years, I was very disturbed that I can't remember things that happened when I was a child.  My first truly coherent memories, other than about 15-20 isolated flashes, begin in high school.  I was sure I'd blocked out major trauma or something.  I spoke with a psychologist about it who assured me that there were two very good reasons why I couldn't remember once.  One is that it was a long time ago (ahem).  The other is that for most of their years until around puberty, children are wired up for "experiential" rather than "retaining," meaning that the emphasis isn't so much on remembering events, but on living them and that this is even more pronounced in very creative, magical kids.  Given the few memories I have, I must really be topping the scale.  ;o)  Now, it applies to my 20's and 30's, which are becoming a blur.  I think I'm so focused on the now and the future that the past gets fuzzy for me. 

I did some serious time after the 2nd divorce in the mid-90's revisiting my past.  I'd spent so much time believing everything was my fault that had ever gone wrong in my life that I needed to go back objectively and sort through all of the knotted threads and see what went where an how.  It took me about a year and lots of crying jags and long nights, but I came out of it with a clearer image of my place in the world and my load was considerably lighter knowing what I did and didn't have to own.  I could make amends for what I could, try to forgive myself of the things for which I could not atone and try to be the best person I could be from that day forward.  It was a very painful, but clarifying experience. 

So now, I pretty much live in the present and keep the past for its precious memories.  The painful memories are there too, but I can see them in a more objective light now as part of a process.


I was waiting for Delena and Eric to get home from the water park late Saturday evening when I heard a distinct scratching at my front window.  I looked down and saw that Spooky was in the house and the cats can't reach the window.  Weird!  The porch light was on, so I shut off the living room lights and looked out the window.  I jumped about 3 feet in the air when I say a face looking urgently back at me.

He scuttered away from the window when he saw me, so I took pictures, but soon he was bold enough to come right back up to the window again (click to make the pics bigger):


I mean, how often does a wild animal come up and knock on the window/door when you don't get the dog food out fast enough?  He looks really skinny, so I think he's not been getting his dog food quota.  I've named him Rocky, for the Beatles song. 

We walked up to the school this morning for Nathan's orientation.  I love this school more every time I see it and the more I learn about it.  I can't wait for Dylan to get in next year.  They only have one first grader this year, so if Dylan had only been left back a year, he'd be IN.  Damnable smart kids. 

I was heaving and dying by the time I finished walking uphill almost a mile and a half.  Nathan was dragging his ass, looking at this, investigating that.  Another mom gave us a ride home and she is blessed amongst women.  Nathan cried when it was time to go home.  His teacher hugged him and said, "You don't want to go home?  I'm so glad!"  :) 

Talk about independent, he is very insistent that he DOESN'T want me to go to school with him on the first day. He wants to take the bus.  How about that?  It's a four hour kindergarten (I love that his teacher says "kindygarten") day and each Friday, they have an even longer day from 9-2:30.  After Christmas break, then start going full days, from 9-3:30.  He's tremendously excited and I very much hope this fares well than his ill-fated attempt at preschool.  *shudder*

I am soooo tired and need a chance to hide from the world and heal for a while.  I was completely in bed for 2 days last week, barely dragging around a third day and feeling pretty crappy the rest of the time.  I am still not right yet and I don't know that I'm going to be until I get some alone time.  I've been breathing kids every waking moment and lordy, do I ever need a vacation.  Eric is supposed to go to Vegas this weekend to see his family.  Our finances may not allow it (we're working hard for it to happen), so it's unsure at this point.

I miss going out to eat with Eric.  That was always my sanity before was knowing that every week or two at least, we could escape together and be a couple instead of a group for a while.  David was a great babysitter and my kids just adore him, but he's so far away now and his days off are Tuesday and Wednesday, so it doesn't really work out for him to come up so he can watch the kids.  We haven't been out together in months.  I miss my hubby.  It's hard to be Me in addition to Mom when I never leave the house.  I hope the quiet time that comes with the kids being in school helps me to get more in touch with myself again.  Now I'm just Mom'd out and very tired.

I'm thinking some quiet refuge with cabana boys and drinks with little umbrellas and nice music and massages and excellent food.  Lord, if only. 

My house is an unmitigated, total disaster.  My husband is on his way home and as Neanderthal as it may be, he's so very grumpy when he comes home to a messy house. I'm looking at it, weighing out my apathy over cleaning it versus my desire to give him a nice night and not listen to him fuss or hear his dismay and let it mess up MY night.  Where are those damned house elves and why aren't they cleaning?  I'm so punked out I barely care about either.  Meh.  Pfft.  Whatever.

Having flipped the mental coin, it has fallen on the side that brings about the greatest peace, so I suppose I should start cleaning and get things nice and sacred so that everyone is serene and happy and relaxed for the evening.  Being selfless sucks.  OK, I benefit too because it's peaceful, but I sure don't want to do it.

Someone stop me.

Come on.

See you later,