One More Reason The CIA Should Recruit Me

Kid has made a lot of headway in the reading and writing departments this year. But there are still times when her spelling is so creative that I look at it completely baffled. Usually I can crack the code. She has her letter sounds down pat so it's really just a matter of letting go of your preconceived notions of how things ought to be spelled and sounding out what is on the paper. 85% of the time I can get it. That leaves 15% of the time when I just stare at it and think "WTF?". Even when I have some context clues the intended words just elude me. Like with this drawing from yesterday (sorry it is sideways... added challenge):

Try as I might I just could not figure it out.
And it was killing me!
Then I finally got it.
And I'm telling you that when the puzzle comes together it's akin to solving The New York Times Crossword Puzzle (Sunday). You feel like you should be cracking codes for the CIA. It's a total rush.
And, yes, I'm completely serious.

Have at it, peeps.
Once you get it you'll be like... "d'Oh! It was so obvious!"

Bitch Fest Friday

Sometimes it's crazy to me how quickly these posts come around.

Another week down.


Have you ever been just driving around, and suddenly you let out a huge exhale, and it is only then that you realize you must have been holding your breath?

That's kind of where I'm at these days.

Realtor Open House Today

A catered broker only type deal.

I've been cleaning.

Still cleaning.

Oh and just discovered Baby has tooth decay on her front teeth.

Awesome.

Like I need something else to worry about and handle right now.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye

So, for me, yesterday's post was as good as blogging gets.

For some of you? Not so much.

But here is what I need everyone to know. (I think I explain this but I guess it bears repeating)


I blog for three reasons:

1. To entertain

2. To socialize

3. To process my feelings

Some rare moments I can pull off all three in one post. Sometimes I can't seem to pull off a single one in a full week of posts.


When I sit down to write (like I am this morning), I don't have a plan. I sit down and my fingers type and what I need to say seems to flow to the screen uninterrupted. It's a lot like lying down on an analysts couch.

And it is helpful. It is immensely helpful, therapeutic, and thought provoking FOR ME.

It's not about trying to gain sympathy, or validation, or readership, or (horrors) disdain.

It's about me sitting down and having 10 minutes to myself and seeing what comes bubbling up to the surface.

For weeks I've been stressed about the upcoming move (which is too legit to quit I might add). But I've also been feeling a layer of sadness that I wasn't even aware of.

Until the other night when I went to lay down and had the flood gates feeling. WTF? Why am I sad? Stressed and overwhelmed I got, but sad?

And then it came to me. And I sat down to write and it wasn't until I was typing that out from my fingers flowed the memory that I would see my Dad every 3 or so months.

Things like that happen all the time for me.

And I pay attention. And I listen. And I change.

It's not for you. It's for me.

I've talked about taproots before. Well this move triggered a taproot to a grief I've had buried for over 20 years. A grief I was too young to understand or process and so it lay there dormant.

Until now. Mr F moving for a better job. Leaving us here feeling stuck... it is an exact replay of what happened to me as a child.

Without knowing it I started laying on the grief of that to the current situation.

And THAT'S why things have seemed SO overwhelming, and undoable, and stressful (which they really are.... stressful that is... factually one of life's greatest stresses).

It hasn't been so much about the move as it has been about feeling the grief and hurt and stress of my father's move.

The fact that I have a place where I can allow myself to explore my feelings openly and honestly and without shame, allowed for me to make that connection.

It's allowed me to spend some time processing THOSE feelings. Making some peace with those hurts and those fears. Letting that sadness bubble up and OUT. So that it doesn't have to co-mingle and intensify what is going on with me today.

That's therapy. That's why therapy works. Because, now, having figured that out. Having identified the source of the fear and pain has allowed me to label it. To understand it. To move through it.

I don't have to repeat it just because the situation is similar. (apply to all things... dieting anyone?)

I think it is easy to forget (I do when reading others') that a post is just a snapshot of a moment of someone's day. It is not the entirety of their experience.

I can sit down to write and have the stress of our move come spilling up onto the key board. That's real. That's honest.

But that doesn't mean I don't have good days.

That I don't still laugh hysterically till I collapse on the floor. That I don't still wear dress socks while I workout in the living room. That I'm not still making dinner and making the beds. And everything else. I function. I succeed.

That is just one small raw moment.

Maybe that appears self indulgent, or immature, or dramatic, or naive, or whatever negative you'd like to insert.

I'm okay with that. It's just about the only thing I get to do that is for myself. And it works for me.

Profoundly.

So, try not to take everything so literally.

I post these posts to help me sort it all out.

All of it.

How I put it together so that I don't let these things drag me down (too much).

I don't need to pretend things are perfect or I've got everything under control.

I'm not too concerned with reflecting well because I never thought that actually reflected well.

I'm most concerned with being well. And I don't know how to do that without, first, being honest.

Weekend Update

I had some kind of gastro illness this weekend. Mr F got it too but not as badly or for as long. How is it that he lost 3 pounds and I lost.... anyone?.... NOTHING. Asshole.

Both the girls are driving me up a wall. I know it is the stress of everything that is going on (I get that) but the day in day out whiny, clingy-ness of Baby and the day in day out crazy tantrums of Kid (hello regression!) are pushing me over the edge. I was barely clingy to the edge before they decided to lose their minds. This is going to be a hard transition. HARD.

I almost cried myself to sleep last night. I was just too tired to follow through. That and my stomach hurt.

This pending separation is bringing up a lot of feelings for me. There are the legitimate, current, stresses of solo parenting for three and a half months, taxes, continuing education credits, daycare, AND selling our house. It's a lot.

BUT it also stirs up past injuries of having divorced parents. My father moved to New Jersey when I was 12. I would see him on vacations. That would mean I'd often go... how long?... 3 or so months between visits. It was hard and incredibly sad time for me. I felt abandoned. I was heart broken. I'd lie in bed and try to communicate telepathically with him. Things were never the same.

And this current situation is stirring those feelings up. Even though I know what is going on, and where these feelings are coming from, it is hard to separate those feelings out from my current ones. It just makes everything about this feel more *sad* and intense. My anxiety about what's coming up is definitely ramping up as we get closer to Mr F's moving day.

I'm just trying to get up and preform well each day. Do what I need to do and not get too caught up in my current head game. It's hard though. My head is attached to me.

I wish we had a set time line. I wish our house was in contract so I'd KNOW what and when things were going to happen. My patience and control issues are being challenged. And it's hard for me.

I hope we get some showings on the house this week.

That would go a long way toward making me feel better.

Calling It Like I See It

"Hey, you might want to pay attention to this movie..." Mrs F says to Kid.

"It's about a girl who is always happy." Mrs F continues.

Mr F tries to suppress his shocked laughter.

Kid turns and aims her death rays at Mrs F's head.