It was my own fault really. I leaned over and looked into their tiny faces and asked for ten minutes during which to take a shower, explaining in very simple terms that we needed to get ready for the party. I was selfish for wanting ten uninterrupted minutes of warm shower.
I went into the bathroom and closed the door and, oh, maybe thirty or forty seconds went by when I heard a blood-curdling scream (yes, my blood turned into cottage cheese)coming from the living room. I ran from the bathroom to find Jude lying on the floor, crying. He was sobbing so hard that he couldn't catch his breath.
"What happened?" I asked, holding him and trying to calm him.
"I fell," he said. He didn't elaborate.
"How did you fall?"
"I climbed up there," he said, pointing to a chair. "And tried to jump to there." He pointed to the computer chair -- a computer chair with wheels that sits upon a hard wood floor.
I assessed him and found no broken bones or bleeding and really was quite interested in finishing the shower I'd started so I began anew. Then I heard the bathroom door open and when I looked out, I saw Sully smiling back at me from the other side of the shower curtain. I turned back around and the shampoo bottles fell off the rack and landed on my foot. I let out a couple choice words, as the full bottles managed to land just right on my foot to cause pain. Oh, fun.
I limped out of the shower, certain that this was the weakest injury any human has ever suffered, got dressed and threw both boys into the tub for their bath. I rarely give them baths together and about three seconds in, I remembered why. I set Sully into the water and then helped Jude get his ear plugs in (ear plugs are a must for the next several months because of Jude's ear tubes) and he climbed into the water. He wanted to play with Sully and Sully's response was to begin to cry. Then cry a bit more. Then hold his breath and turn purple so I yanked him out of the tub and began drying him.
I sat on the bathroom floor, holding Sully, drying him, calming him as Jude played in the bath and before Sully was dry, he was sound asleep in my arms. I didn't trust my foot to stand upon as it began throbbing and was bruised so I sat on the floor. Jude told me I could go get Sully dressed and I assured Jude I wouldn't leave him in the bath alone. His response: "Mom, I'm not scared of monsters."
That made me laugh and made the wait on the bathroom floor more comfortable. Sully slept on me. Jude dressed himself and we spent the next half hour waiting for Jeff to come home.
Footnote: (Ha! See what I did there?) My foot is sore, bruised and not broken. Just another silly/stupid injury but not even close to the whole car door concussion thing.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time
I apologize in advance for the very "Carpe Diem" tone of this blog, but it has definitely been that kind of a month. It has been a long time since my last post, far too long and I have missed the interaction of girl and computer, just sitting down and composing thoughts via this medium.
The title of the blog is, of course, ripped from the Robert Herrick poem which begins "Gather ye rose-buds while ye may." I have spent countless nights in my life worrying. Concerned. Stressed about work. Worrying about money. Concerned about getting older and yet not really growing up and that is time lost, time I won't get back.
My computer crashed. It happens. All of the data contained within was lost and that makes me sad. I am trying desperately not to focus on that, however. I lost the same novel I have been working on since before Jude was born. I still hadn't finished it, and was never completely satisfied with it and now it is gone. But the idea isn't gone, and I have decided to take the novel fragments I have retained in written form and turn them instead into a screenplay. Uncharacteristically, I am turning something negative into something positive.
Pictures of the children were lost, as were stories I had written. But there are so many pictures of Jude and Sullivan that have been printed or sent to grandparents or friends or that live on in other ways so I am trying not to focus on that aspect of loss either.
It has been a time of loss. Strange loss and funny loss and sad loss. Jude complains sometimes about loud noises outside and I just smile at him, so happy that noises that he had not heard before are suddenly apparent to him and even annoying to him. He had a successful surgery and is a very happy, very loved and very loud child.
Every day, Sully loses a bit of his babyhood. He is running and has a whole mouthful of teeth and is even talking some (a handful of words, but I dearly love each one). I hate how cliche it sounds, but I really just want to enjoy every moment with them.
This week, my grandpa died. It was sad, but not unexpected. He had been very sick with cancer, suffering. In pain. Of course those who witness such suffering always say in their most honest moments "I don't want to go like that. When I die, I hope it is quick." Of course agonizing pain is not a goal for anyone except the most masochistic among us, but there is something to be said for the ritual that is "saying goodbye." Consider the alternative.
Thursday morning, the day after Grandpa passed away, I went into work. My boss got a phone call and ran out. This was not an unusual sight; he is extremely busy working for the firm and for the city and has a lot of meetings to attend. However, it was not a business meeting that drew him from the office. It was a call that his wife had been in an accident. She was a pedestrian, crossing a street when she was struck and killed by a school bus full of children on their way to school.
I had met her on social occasions and my impression of her was that she was nice, friendly. And my boss is certainly the nicest of all bosses I have ever had. I can't stop thinking about it, though. The idea that perhaps they had breakfast together and then he came into work early and she went for a walk and that was it. They would never see each other again. Never talk again. Never hold hands or kiss. I looked at Jeff when I got home that day from work, filled with every emotion that such an incident produces and he looked at me and we made those promises to one another never to take the days for granted, to always say "I love you" and to not let anger linger.
Of course we felt this way. It was shocking and sad and there was no chance for him to say goodbye to her. Certainly there is no good way to go. Cancer is ugly and horrible. Swift deaths are ugly and horrible.
I feel like Renton in the opening monologue of Trainspotting, the whole "Choose Life" speech -- well, up until the heroin part! I am feeling the urge to embrace my husband and my children, my new friends from work, my old friends living their own lives, my parents, my siblings, my writing.
Because I was horrified to read the obituary for her: she was survived not only by her husband, children and grandchildren, but also by her parents. No parent should ever have to bury a child, even a child of 57. It isn't right.
No clever ending to this blog except a promise that you'll see me soon because I have much more to say. For now, I am off to hug my monsters and kiss the tops of their heads, breathing them in while we're all still here.
The title of the blog is, of course, ripped from the Robert Herrick poem which begins "Gather ye rose-buds while ye may." I have spent countless nights in my life worrying. Concerned. Stressed about work. Worrying about money. Concerned about getting older and yet not really growing up and that is time lost, time I won't get back.
My computer crashed. It happens. All of the data contained within was lost and that makes me sad. I am trying desperately not to focus on that, however. I lost the same novel I have been working on since before Jude was born. I still hadn't finished it, and was never completely satisfied with it and now it is gone. But the idea isn't gone, and I have decided to take the novel fragments I have retained in written form and turn them instead into a screenplay. Uncharacteristically, I am turning something negative into something positive.
Pictures of the children were lost, as were stories I had written. But there are so many pictures of Jude and Sullivan that have been printed or sent to grandparents or friends or that live on in other ways so I am trying not to focus on that aspect of loss either.
It has been a time of loss. Strange loss and funny loss and sad loss. Jude complains sometimes about loud noises outside and I just smile at him, so happy that noises that he had not heard before are suddenly apparent to him and even annoying to him. He had a successful surgery and is a very happy, very loved and very loud child.
Every day, Sully loses a bit of his babyhood. He is running and has a whole mouthful of teeth and is even talking some (a handful of words, but I dearly love each one). I hate how cliche it sounds, but I really just want to enjoy every moment with them.
This week, my grandpa died. It was sad, but not unexpected. He had been very sick with cancer, suffering. In pain. Of course those who witness such suffering always say in their most honest moments "I don't want to go like that. When I die, I hope it is quick." Of course agonizing pain is not a goal for anyone except the most masochistic among us, but there is something to be said for the ritual that is "saying goodbye." Consider the alternative.
Thursday morning, the day after Grandpa passed away, I went into work. My boss got a phone call and ran out. This was not an unusual sight; he is extremely busy working for the firm and for the city and has a lot of meetings to attend. However, it was not a business meeting that drew him from the office. It was a call that his wife had been in an accident. She was a pedestrian, crossing a street when she was struck and killed by a school bus full of children on their way to school.
I had met her on social occasions and my impression of her was that she was nice, friendly. And my boss is certainly the nicest of all bosses I have ever had. I can't stop thinking about it, though. The idea that perhaps they had breakfast together and then he came into work early and she went for a walk and that was it. They would never see each other again. Never talk again. Never hold hands or kiss. I looked at Jeff when I got home that day from work, filled with every emotion that such an incident produces and he looked at me and we made those promises to one another never to take the days for granted, to always say "I love you" and to not let anger linger.
Of course we felt this way. It was shocking and sad and there was no chance for him to say goodbye to her. Certainly there is no good way to go. Cancer is ugly and horrible. Swift deaths are ugly and horrible.
I feel like Renton in the opening monologue of Trainspotting, the whole "Choose Life" speech -- well, up until the heroin part! I am feeling the urge to embrace my husband and my children, my new friends from work, my old friends living their own lives, my parents, my siblings, my writing.
Because I was horrified to read the obituary for her: she was survived not only by her husband, children and grandchildren, but also by her parents. No parent should ever have to bury a child, even a child of 57. It isn't right.
No clever ending to this blog except a promise that you'll see me soon because I have much more to say. For now, I am off to hug my monsters and kiss the tops of their heads, breathing them in while we're all still here.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Weekend (and Weeks) Update
So it has been many weeks again without a blog. Life happens. Life keeps happening all over us.
Jude has had an ongoing hearing problem and we went to see a specialist regarding it. Apparently Jude has a build up of fluid in both ears that will require his getting tubes put in. Now how this has happened without Jude ever having had an ear infection (or at least never having complained of an earache), I don't know. What I do know is that I am not crazy about my child having to have surgery -- even minor outpatient surgery. Yet I know it needs to be done and it will be done this month. I hope it helps.
Jude and Sullivan were shipped off to Grandma and Grandpa's house Saturday night. I'm sure between the boys and my two nieces that the scene was very "Animal House" but I appreciate an evening alone with Jeff. We had a lovely dinner. We got to watch "Tropic Thunder." (Quick review: a funny flick. Certainly not the most brilliant movie I've ever seen, but it has its moments. Amusing.)
Then Sunday I slipped into 35. Now 35 seems like quite a grown up age, much moreso than 34. I am sure I will start feeling like a grown up any day now! Thirty-five has been tough (two days in!), as I have taken the opportunity to torture myself with the goals I've yet to achieve, the dreams I've yet to reach. I'm trying to focus instead on what I have. That can be difficult to keep in mind. I am gifted at torturing myself. Family and friends and relative health. Maybe 35 will be the year that my optimism sticks. Okay, maybe not. At 35, I still laugh at Robot Chicken and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I still obsessively watch MST3K. I still don't quite feel like an adult. I'm not sure when those adult feelings will kick in, but I'm in no hurry.
Song of the day: I am stuck on "Ain't No Reason" by Brett Dennen. I love it and thus it is my song of the day.
Jude has had an ongoing hearing problem and we went to see a specialist regarding it. Apparently Jude has a build up of fluid in both ears that will require his getting tubes put in. Now how this has happened without Jude ever having had an ear infection (or at least never having complained of an earache), I don't know. What I do know is that I am not crazy about my child having to have surgery -- even minor outpatient surgery. Yet I know it needs to be done and it will be done this month. I hope it helps.
Jude and Sullivan were shipped off to Grandma and Grandpa's house Saturday night. I'm sure between the boys and my two nieces that the scene was very "Animal House" but I appreciate an evening alone with Jeff. We had a lovely dinner. We got to watch "Tropic Thunder." (Quick review: a funny flick. Certainly not the most brilliant movie I've ever seen, but it has its moments. Amusing.)
Then Sunday I slipped into 35. Now 35 seems like quite a grown up age, much moreso than 34. I am sure I will start feeling like a grown up any day now! Thirty-five has been tough (two days in!), as I have taken the opportunity to torture myself with the goals I've yet to achieve, the dreams I've yet to reach. I'm trying to focus instead on what I have. That can be difficult to keep in mind. I am gifted at torturing myself. Family and friends and relative health. Maybe 35 will be the year that my optimism sticks. Okay, maybe not. At 35, I still laugh at Robot Chicken and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I still obsessively watch MST3K. I still don't quite feel like an adult. I'm not sure when those adult feelings will kick in, but I'm in no hurry.
Song of the day: I am stuck on "Ain't No Reason" by Brett Dennen. I love it and thus it is my song of the day.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
We Are Family
If you are reading this, chances are good that you are in my family. And I mean that in the wonderful figurative way of "we are as close as family" but I also mean it in the literal sense because I have an enormous family. Really, really enormous. Ever expanding.
As I mentioned before, my Uncle Dennis passed away. The funeral was Tuesday. The turnout was enormous. He was -- and is -- quite loved, which is a wonderful and remarkable thing. But the crowds were a bit overwhelming; they always are to me. I stood off to the side at the funeral home, talking to my step dad. I confided to him that there were just so many people there that I didn't even know. He pointed to a woman in front of me and said "I know that's your mom's Aunt Edna."
To which I replied "There's an Aunt Edna?"
Having such a large and complex and twisty family is what I am used to, but it is still a little strange. For example, my mom's cousin is married to my dad's niece. I've got weird stuff like that all over in my family. Not really too weird to me since it is what I know and since my parents aren't married. Well, they are, but not to each other. So in addition to my own labyrinth of a crazy family, I get step aunts and uncles (though the step part never really mattered so much to me). To me, they are just my aunts and uncles and cousins.
It is a small world. My BFF went to high school (or was it junior high?) with my cousin. Of course I know he won't remember the conversation we had about that or even my cousin's name unless I mention it again, but I find it rather amusing and part of his charm that he has such a lousy memory for details but is otherwise semi-brilliant.
But I digress. (Should I change the name of this blog to "I digress"?)
True story: when I was in high school (9th grade), I was approached by a senior who started talking to me and then she said "I think we're cousins." Twas news to me, but yep, we were. (Insert your own small town/inbreeding joke here.) But the problem isn't inbreeding. Inbreeding results in small families.
I sat next to my cousin Jenny and talked to her about the impossibility of raising a four-year-old (yay, Jude is not the only child who was ever difficult!). The conversation wrapped around to the lovely turnout of the funeral. Then we discussed our great aunts, Esther and Vi.
And, I pointed out, we also have a great aunt Edna.
To which she replied "There's an Aunt Edna?"
Movie Review: I have nothing. For the first time in a long time, I haven't had a chance to watch any movies. So, I am on the hunt for anything good.
Song of the Day: I'm taken with "Still Fighting It" by Ben Folds.
As I mentioned before, my Uncle Dennis passed away. The funeral was Tuesday. The turnout was enormous. He was -- and is -- quite loved, which is a wonderful and remarkable thing. But the crowds were a bit overwhelming; they always are to me. I stood off to the side at the funeral home, talking to my step dad. I confided to him that there were just so many people there that I didn't even know. He pointed to a woman in front of me and said "I know that's your mom's Aunt Edna."
To which I replied "There's an Aunt Edna?"
Having such a large and complex and twisty family is what I am used to, but it is still a little strange. For example, my mom's cousin is married to my dad's niece. I've got weird stuff like that all over in my family. Not really too weird to me since it is what I know and since my parents aren't married. Well, they are, but not to each other. So in addition to my own labyrinth of a crazy family, I get step aunts and uncles (though the step part never really mattered so much to me). To me, they are just my aunts and uncles and cousins.
It is a small world. My BFF went to high school (or was it junior high?) with my cousin. Of course I know he won't remember the conversation we had about that or even my cousin's name unless I mention it again, but I find it rather amusing and part of his charm that he has such a lousy memory for details but is otherwise semi-brilliant.
But I digress. (Should I change the name of this blog to "I digress"?)
True story: when I was in high school (9th grade), I was approached by a senior who started talking to me and then she said "I think we're cousins." Twas news to me, but yep, we were. (Insert your own small town/inbreeding joke here.) But the problem isn't inbreeding. Inbreeding results in small families.
I sat next to my cousin Jenny and talked to her about the impossibility of raising a four-year-old (yay, Jude is not the only child who was ever difficult!). The conversation wrapped around to the lovely turnout of the funeral. Then we discussed our great aunts, Esther and Vi.
And, I pointed out, we also have a great aunt Edna.
To which she replied "There's an Aunt Edna?"
Movie Review: I have nothing. For the first time in a long time, I haven't had a chance to watch any movies. So, I am on the hunt for anything good.
Song of the Day: I'm taken with "Still Fighting It" by Ben Folds.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
The Week in Review -- Last Week, That Is
As usual, this blog is behind. Just a week behind, though and not months as usual, so at least that is something!
What would lead a relatively normal (hey, I maintain that I am at least relatively normal) woman to spend her Friday night soaking in a hot bath, watching a DVD? Well, any number of reasons.
1. I never have. And we have a portable DVD player that never gets used. What better use than perched (safely!) on the edge of the pink bathtub where I could watch it?
2. The DVD was from the box set season 6 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The particular episode "Once More With Feeling" is one of my favorite of the whole series. So, I soaked and watched and attempted to relax.
3. It has been a challenging week. I have the headache to prove it. Monday, my boss and then my other boss decided to talk to one another and then to me about the influx of new files we have. Apparently the files than have been backed up for more than 6 months (and I have been there for 3) need to be caught up RIGHT NOW. This is my job. This stresses me a bit. This, as it turns out, was the least stressful part of my week.
The children and I are all (still!!) suffering from Fifth Disease (it's real -- go ahead and look it up). It has been kicking our booties this winter, particularly mine. The kids have had the rash and poor reddened cheeks for weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks. Not much to do for it, though, other than let it run its ridiculously long course.
Wednesday, we had a doctor's appointment for Jude. He has been having problems for some time and as I have never had a four year old before, I don't know if there is really something wrong or if it is Jude being difficult. He turns up the television constantly, swearing he cannot hear it. Yet, he seems to have no problem interrupting/hearing/maitaining a conversation. Still, we took him to the doctor because of our concerns.
Jude had a preliminary hearing test, a screening generally reserved for older kids and adults. He did not pass. He seemed to understand the test and did well performing it, but his hearing results showed below normal. So, our next step there will be with an ENT (otorhynolaryngologist) at the end of February.
Of course following this bit of info, I have had to rethink each "Jude, why don't you listen?" that I asked of him.
So we settled in back at home, absorbing this bit of news. Thursday evening my stepdad called me with the news that my Uncle Dennis (my mom's youngest brother) wasn't expected to make it through the evening. Two hours later, Bob called back to let me know that Dennis had passed away.
Uncle Dennis has been sick for some time with cancer so it wasn't entirely unexpected, but it was still difficult, particularly witnessing how difficult it was for my mom and my aunts and uncles to handle.
On Friday evening, we decided to have a quiet family dinner out, just the four of us. Jude ordered a pizza (a tiny, child size pizza) and Sully basically ate what everyone else was eating.
Jude picked at his pizza, barely eating and then asked for a snack. His request was, of course, denied. He then stated that he was full and didn't want any more food or a snack. Since he clearly didn't plan to eat any more, there wasn't much we could do.
So, we packed up and headed across the icy tundra of the parking lot. Jude was holding my hand and two steps into the (very crowded) parking lot, he began screaming at the top of his four-year-old lungs "I'm starving. It isn't fair. I'm so hungry." I was beyond mortified. When he got home, he got neither more food nor a snack. He claimed again he was full.
After the week that was, I longed to just soak in a hot bath. Since I finally finished and returned my boss's Vonnegut, I decided to watch a DVD in the bath instead. This is one lazy-step beyond watching a DVD in bed, which is the epitome of decadence to me.
Song of the Day: for a tough week, let's go with "Give Me Something to Sing About" from that Buffy episode. I love the sentiment; don't give me songs. Give me something to sing about.
Now I think I'm headed into the bathroom. The warm water is calling me. No DVDs though. How lazy do you think I am? Oh, seriously. It isn't like I spend all my time soaking in hot baths, just lounging around once the children are in bed and oh, don't look at me/the computer that way. Sigh. Fine. I'm going to watch "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." Are you happy?
I need a laugh.
What would lead a relatively normal (hey, I maintain that I am at least relatively normal) woman to spend her Friday night soaking in a hot bath, watching a DVD? Well, any number of reasons.
1. I never have. And we have a portable DVD player that never gets used. What better use than perched (safely!) on the edge of the pink bathtub where I could watch it?
2. The DVD was from the box set season 6 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The particular episode "Once More With Feeling" is one of my favorite of the whole series. So, I soaked and watched and attempted to relax.
3. It has been a challenging week. I have the headache to prove it. Monday, my boss and then my other boss decided to talk to one another and then to me about the influx of new files we have. Apparently the files than have been backed up for more than 6 months (and I have been there for 3) need to be caught up RIGHT NOW. This is my job. This stresses me a bit. This, as it turns out, was the least stressful part of my week.
The children and I are all (still!!) suffering from Fifth Disease (it's real -- go ahead and look it up). It has been kicking our booties this winter, particularly mine. The kids have had the rash and poor reddened cheeks for weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks. Not much to do for it, though, other than let it run its ridiculously long course.
Wednesday, we had a doctor's appointment for Jude. He has been having problems for some time and as I have never had a four year old before, I don't know if there is really something wrong or if it is Jude being difficult. He turns up the television constantly, swearing he cannot hear it. Yet, he seems to have no problem interrupting/hearing/maitaining a conversation. Still, we took him to the doctor because of our concerns.
Jude had a preliminary hearing test, a screening generally reserved for older kids and adults. He did not pass. He seemed to understand the test and did well performing it, but his hearing results showed below normal. So, our next step there will be with an ENT (otorhynolaryngologist) at the end of February.
Of course following this bit of info, I have had to rethink each "Jude, why don't you listen?" that I asked of him.
So we settled in back at home, absorbing this bit of news. Thursday evening my stepdad called me with the news that my Uncle Dennis (my mom's youngest brother) wasn't expected to make it through the evening. Two hours later, Bob called back to let me know that Dennis had passed away.
Uncle Dennis has been sick for some time with cancer so it wasn't entirely unexpected, but it was still difficult, particularly witnessing how difficult it was for my mom and my aunts and uncles to handle.
On Friday evening, we decided to have a quiet family dinner out, just the four of us. Jude ordered a pizza (a tiny, child size pizza) and Sully basically ate what everyone else was eating.
Jude picked at his pizza, barely eating and then asked for a snack. His request was, of course, denied. He then stated that he was full and didn't want any more food or a snack. Since he clearly didn't plan to eat any more, there wasn't much we could do.
So, we packed up and headed across the icy tundra of the parking lot. Jude was holding my hand and two steps into the (very crowded) parking lot, he began screaming at the top of his four-year-old lungs "I'm starving. It isn't fair. I'm so hungry." I was beyond mortified. When he got home, he got neither more food nor a snack. He claimed again he was full.
After the week that was, I longed to just soak in a hot bath. Since I finally finished and returned my boss's Vonnegut, I decided to watch a DVD in the bath instead. This is one lazy-step beyond watching a DVD in bed, which is the epitome of decadence to me.
Song of the Day: for a tough week, let's go with "Give Me Something to Sing About" from that Buffy episode. I love the sentiment; don't give me songs. Give me something to sing about.
Now I think I'm headed into the bathroom. The warm water is calling me. No DVDs though. How lazy do you think I am? Oh, seriously. It isn't like I spend all my time soaking in hot baths, just lounging around once the children are in bed and oh, don't look at me/the computer that way. Sigh. Fine. I'm going to watch "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." Are you happy?
I need a laugh.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
What Are You Reading?
So, if you were to ask me what I'm reading, I would likely lie. Nothing against you. I don't read books very often; I used to devour them before I had children. And I have the most wonderful discussions about books with a coworker. She and I have strikingly similar taste in books and are together lamenting the decline of readership in America, though, I did admit to her my own lack of book reading in the past few years.
If you were to ask, I would tell you with a little laugh that I had borrowed a book from my boss, a Kurt Vonnegut I hadn't read before. And that would be completely true. At my office Christmas party, I was a bit social and I drank a bit of wine (white wine. I can't be more specific than that; I lack sophistication in all matters of wine consumption). Beyond that, though, I spent an extensive amount of time browsing my boss's library, an eclectic collection of some damn good books.
On Monday after the party, I admitted to my boss that I had been browsing through his books and was interested in the Vonnegut books he had. We had a long talk about the party and about Vonnegut and he lent the book to me.
It is a delightful story and I fully intend to start reading the book any day now. But right now, my brain, addled by sickness and general sleeplessness, is incapable of processing anything more than "New Moon."
Last year, I admitted to having read "Twilight," fascinated by the sheer publishing power this book had. And I was sucked into the story, so much so that I had to also read "New Moon" and will eventually get around to the other two.
To some, the protagonist, Bella, is melodramatic; those people either have never been or cannot recall being teenage girls. Teenage girls can definitely be melodramatic, moody and absolutely certain that their love lives (or lack thereof) are the most important things in the world. Every time I turn a page and am tempted to criticize poor Bella, I recall my teenage crushes, recall each heartache visited upon my teenage self and I realize why the book is such a sensation. I am not in any way negating the essence of teenage girls or trying to generalize; I just recall my own experiences. I am alternately drawn to the story, and ashamed that I am drawn to it.
I am very close to the end of Moon and plan to start Vonnegut any day now. So, if you want to ask what I'm reading, just wait a few days and I'll be happy to discuss it with you.
It is with sadness that I announce that Dung! is now defunct. For some reason, the username and password no longer work and so there will be no further updates. I will miss being the Queen of the dungheap, but I am sure as the year progresses, a new blog will emerge.
If you were to ask, I would tell you with a little laugh that I had borrowed a book from my boss, a Kurt Vonnegut I hadn't read before. And that would be completely true. At my office Christmas party, I was a bit social and I drank a bit of wine (white wine. I can't be more specific than that; I lack sophistication in all matters of wine consumption). Beyond that, though, I spent an extensive amount of time browsing my boss's library, an eclectic collection of some damn good books.
On Monday after the party, I admitted to my boss that I had been browsing through his books and was interested in the Vonnegut books he had. We had a long talk about the party and about Vonnegut and he lent the book to me.
It is a delightful story and I fully intend to start reading the book any day now. But right now, my brain, addled by sickness and general sleeplessness, is incapable of processing anything more than "New Moon."
Last year, I admitted to having read "Twilight," fascinated by the sheer publishing power this book had. And I was sucked into the story, so much so that I had to also read "New Moon" and will eventually get around to the other two.
To some, the protagonist, Bella, is melodramatic; those people either have never been or cannot recall being teenage girls. Teenage girls can definitely be melodramatic, moody and absolutely certain that their love lives (or lack thereof) are the most important things in the world. Every time I turn a page and am tempted to criticize poor Bella, I recall my teenage crushes, recall each heartache visited upon my teenage self and I realize why the book is such a sensation. I am not in any way negating the essence of teenage girls or trying to generalize; I just recall my own experiences. I am alternately drawn to the story, and ashamed that I am drawn to it.
I am very close to the end of Moon and plan to start Vonnegut any day now. So, if you want to ask what I'm reading, just wait a few days and I'll be happy to discuss it with you.
It is with sadness that I announce that Dung! is now defunct. For some reason, the username and password no longer work and so there will be no further updates. I will miss being the Queen of the dungheap, but I am sure as the year progresses, a new blog will emerge.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Late Last Night
Just a quick post as I am eager to get to sleep and see if my coughing of the past 20 (!) days will finally cease when I lie down.
Last night was a rather comedy of errors around here, the sort of strange series of pratfalls that would almost be funny if they didn't involve people I love so fiercely.
We were eating dinner and Jude, who has his mom's natural grace (okay, total lack thereof) somehow managed to knock his tray (yep, dinner tray) over, falling forward onto the hardwood floor and hitting his face. We rushed into the bathroom to check for loose teeth and bloody anything and he was crying, saying his chin hurt. But crying in that hysterical way that makes my heart nearly stop each time I hear it. He cried so hard that he began throwing up. Jeff was helping him while I hovered and neither of us saw Sully come into the bathroom.
Sully wandered in to see what was happening and managed to trip over Jeff's legs and bang his head hard on the pink bathub. Jeff scooped up Sully so I could take over Jude and his vomiting and Sully did the awful thing he hasn't done in a long time: he stopped breathing.
I could hear Jeff saying "Breathe, damn it, breathe" and my heart stopped again when I looked out into the hallway and saw Sully fall limp in Jeff's arms. I know I mentioned it before but I cannot possible articulate how awful it is to behold. And he didn't seem to want to start breathing again.
So I stopped my Jude puke duties and rushed to Sullivan who finally decided to start breathing. He was purple and listless, his eyes dazed and there was a huge knot on his forehead.
Today, both are back to normal.
Or at least what passes for normal around here.
Song of the Day: "I Want To Be Sedated" by The Ramones. Because sometimes I really do. Oh, and I like to sing along to it.
Last night was a rather comedy of errors around here, the sort of strange series of pratfalls that would almost be funny if they didn't involve people I love so fiercely.
We were eating dinner and Jude, who has his mom's natural grace (okay, total lack thereof) somehow managed to knock his tray (yep, dinner tray) over, falling forward onto the hardwood floor and hitting his face. We rushed into the bathroom to check for loose teeth and bloody anything and he was crying, saying his chin hurt. But crying in that hysterical way that makes my heart nearly stop each time I hear it. He cried so hard that he began throwing up. Jeff was helping him while I hovered and neither of us saw Sully come into the bathroom.
Sully wandered in to see what was happening and managed to trip over Jeff's legs and bang his head hard on the pink bathub. Jeff scooped up Sully so I could take over Jude and his vomiting and Sully did the awful thing he hasn't done in a long time: he stopped breathing.
I could hear Jeff saying "Breathe, damn it, breathe" and my heart stopped again when I looked out into the hallway and saw Sully fall limp in Jeff's arms. I know I mentioned it before but I cannot possible articulate how awful it is to behold. And he didn't seem to want to start breathing again.
So I stopped my Jude puke duties and rushed to Sullivan who finally decided to start breathing. He was purple and listless, his eyes dazed and there was a huge knot on his forehead.
Today, both are back to normal.
Or at least what passes for normal around here.
Song of the Day: "I Want To Be Sedated" by The Ramones. Because sometimes I really do. Oh, and I like to sing along to it.
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