I'm off camping with 70 kids and 100 adults.
The sun is shining.
Wish me luck.
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From the monthly archives:
September 2006
The strange thing about living on the west coast, aside from all the damn hippies, is the weather. We go through this long beautiful summer. Months without rain. Beautiful places to go and fun things to do. Beaches, lakes, mountains, trees. Every summer there are forest fires and burning bans. And then the rain begins. And it rains for eight long months. Eight long months of dark and dreary days.
The rain has begun. Two weeks ago we were spending lazy afternoons at the lake. Swimming and basking in the sunshine. Now we are bundled up in jeans and raincoats and rainboots. Or, in the case of the damn hippies, wool socks with birkenstocks and shorts.
The rain doesn't bother me. It's the darkness and gloom that surrounds it. Empty playgrounds and packed shopping malls. I hate the mall. People wandering endlessly, spending hard earned money on crappy things made by people who have crappy lives.
I started taking this medication in the sunny, summer months hoping that it would be effective in time for the long season of rain. It's not working yet. The side effects have diminshed enough that i feel more like myself, except for the restless sleep and brain shivers and the repulsivness of food. But, i still feel this overwhelming sadness. Not all the time. Sometimes i'm happy. Running endless obstacle races with the kids until i can barely move or breathe. Watching tv with my husbands arm around me listening to the rain quietly fall outside, small moments of friendship.
But then i am sad. I need to sleep more, eat more and stop sitting up at night listening to sad songs while my family sleeps quietly and happily after long days of school and friends and laughter.
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There's this thing that happens when you're sad and depressed for a long time. And when you're loved.
You want to ruin everything.
Destroy the thing that loves you.
It's like suicide, but more painful.
I am trying so hard to be better. To be happy.
but, i'm not. And i love you. Dear internet that listens to all my complaints and applaudes me on my successes. And tells me how cute my children are.
I just want to talk to somebody and somebody keeps melting away.
I can't cry anymore. The drugs have stolen that from me.
And that would be a relief.
I have had a bad day.
And i know you're tired of my bad days and you want good stories. The stories i tell, full of hope and appreciation.
I want that too.
I'm sorry.
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Today is parker's third birthday.
Aside from my sadness that he is three and really not a baby anymore i feel so happy to have him in my life. As he opened his presents tonight he exclaimed;
"wow! you guys sure got me a lot of stuff!
i'm a lucky little guy.
awesome!"
Parker has been perfect to me since the moment he was born, quietly and planned in a sterile operating room, while the student nurse wept quietly in the corner. It's not the perfect vision, but it's mine. All of my other kids were born under stressful conditions. As they wheeled me down the hall with him in my arms i felt like the luckiest person in the world.
I cherished those first few days alone with him in the hospital, despite the onset of the predictable red-headed response of infection in my body.
After eliza was born we were pretty sure that we had enough kids, sure enough that shane booked an appointment for a vasectomy. I remember a few days after i came home from the hospital finding some sample jars and stuff from his missed vasectomy. It was kind of a profound moment for me. The way life can change on a moment in time. A moment where you sleep in instead of heading to an appointment.
I was so full of love for parker from the moment i saw him, before i saw him. I loved being pregnant the fourth time around. It took me that long to really let go of my insecurities and love that belly. I loved every moment. Every twist and turn.
In the months after he was born i was desperate to have another baby. I mourned and was angry that when the doctor leaned over and asked shane if we wanted my tubes tied "while he was in there" that i didn't speak up and yell "no!"
I didn't. And now i can't have another baby.
Recently i'm okay with that though.
I guess since weaning parker in the spring i've realized that i'm pretty damn lucky for what i have.
Four beautiful kids – 3,5,7 and 9.
Happy birthday parker.
xxoo
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The new routine for parker, eliza and i involves a little play on the playground after kindergarten and then we head home for lunch.
Usually, they eat and i sit and stare blankly at the wall, or do some bloglines reading.
Today, i was watching dora *shudder* with parker and eliza was on the computer. She spun around on the chair, looked at me, and said:
"mommy i love you."
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