Miscellaneous thoughts

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Not only do I have a programmable coffee maker, a DVR, a laptop, and a blog, but now I have memotome.com to keep me reminded (via email) of important dates. AND this week, the FedEx guy delivered me my new Blackberry. (We got a deal and I think Steve is hoping it will organize me...ha!) I have no idea how most of it works, but I'm having fun playing around with it. It may turn out to be too much technology for me. I have been able to figure out how to get my bloglines feeds on it (which is a lifesaver when the power goes out and you're home with a five-year-old and a three-month-old). So now I'm mobile! Give me something interesting to read dear internet. And if you're up for it...drop me a note letting me know all your important dates. Who knows...I just might get organized enough to send you a card or something.

I feel so 2008. Now I just need something to automate the laundry process...
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I haven't read a book in several years. The book from the meme I posted earlier this week...I've had that book for four years. I've read it once before and am re-reading it now. The rest of the series waits for me on my bedroom shelf...where they've been for quite a while now. I would venture a guess that it was before I was pregnant with Alex that I picked up even a trashy novel. So that's what? Three years? I just couldn't focus on made up stories. It all seemed irrelevant and pointless. I needed reality to keep me company in my misery.

But as I started feeling more hopeful during my pregnancy with Myles, I started to think about reading books again. I asked for and received books for Christmas and birthday gifts. And now that Myles is here, I'm making time to read. It's lovely.

And no, Holley, I still haven't finished reading Harry Potter Book 4...but I'm working on it. This year. I promise.
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I saw the movie Crash this week. Beautiful, horrible, wonderful, awful movie. I couldn't help but think how different it is to watch such a movie today than it would have been to have watched it when it came out in 2004. Bad things happen to everyone. Sometimes it's a result of the bad choices of other people...sometimes it's just shit luck.

There were a lot of "moments" in the movie. Some were obvious in a beat-you-over-the-head kind of way. Some were more subtle. For some reason, I found real poignancy in the moment when Jean Cabot tells her housekeeper she's the best friend she's got.

If you haven't seen it...you should.
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I was having a boring week when this great belated birthday present arrived in the mail from my friend Cynthia. Thank you sweetheart! I love you!

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Ice is really pretty.

And really slippery.

Ouch.

Enough said.
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I read The Shape of a Mother every day. Lately I've been wondering about the phenomenon of body image.

I remember when I was a child, seeing topless pictures of mothers in remote African countries...with babies attached to their sagging breasts...and I never once thought they looked gross or disturbing. These women had more miles on them than most of us will ever see if we live to be a hundred years old. And yet, I never had negative thoughts about stretch marks or sagging belly skin.

So why do I entertain such thoughts about myself when I look in the mirror?
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The power went out Thursday morning and I got to spend quality time with my sons. I loved it. But the big boy could probably talk the paint off the walls. And the little boy was not impressed that we chose to save on the cost of batteries by buying an electric swing. Mommy pushing it is just.not.the.same.
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As mentioned in a previous post, I'm working on upping our reading quotient in this house. Steve doesn't read books. He's a lost cause. So I'm working all by myself here and feeling like I'm pushing a big rock uphill. So it's nice when I find a little something to make the going a little easier. There is an series about famous Americans (though, Einstein wasn't American, was he?) that has snagged Sam's interest. He was especially thrilled when the first one we found was about Dale Earnhardt. The boy knows what he likes...and if I can use it to get him to read more...so be it.

And I think mean mama may reappear here sometime soon. I don't think it's unreasonable to ask that he earn his Playstation2 time by reading. Is it? Back me up here, ok?
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Mother's of dead children can be especially sensitive. Sometimes even OVER sensitive...finding hidden messages into things said or done by other people that (often) are not intended in any way. I know I'm guilty of it.

It's part of the grief process, I think, learning how to filter the world appropriately again when this horrible, awful thing has happened to your family. Your perspective changes and you have to learn how to incorporate that into your own life. But the fact is that, generally speaking, the perspective of those around you has not changed and the discord comes from that disparity in "growth" between two individuals. I don't know that it's necessarily always positive growth...as losing children has made me more cautious, more fearful, and even irrationally paranoid.

I do know that it's a hard road...trying to figure out how you fit into the life you once knew so well. And now, almost three years down the road from the first shock, I am honest enough with myself to admit that I have misinterpreted the good intentions of others on more than one occasion. I have to be careful not to jump to conclusions when I talk to people, or I can get a completely incorrect message.

I hope I have learned enough to watch my own words carefully. But I know that no matter how carefully I choose them, they will probably be "wrong" when they are received by someone who is grieving. That's just the nature of the process.
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Heard at my house this morning...
"Playing with your phone while you're on the potty?!?! That's ridiculous!!!"
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While the power was out yesterday, Sam and I got a good laugh watching the cat chase the little dog around the house. At one point, Blue came running into the living room and jumped up on the sofa as if to say, "Please protect me." The cat came running into the room, looked around with a smug look on his face as if to say, "Take that! I am master of all that I survey," turned around and ran back out of the room.

When we were finally able to catch our breath from laughing so hard, Sam said the sweetest thing..."Wouldn't it be nice if the world could rewind so we could see it again?"

Yes Sam, that would be very nice.
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I have so much work to do. But I have the winter blahs and don't want to do any of it. I also think part of my problem is that I don't feel truly passionate about much of anything that I do here.

I love the flexibility of my job. I love the variety of the work. I love feeling part of my community. I know the work I do is important. Environmental regulation enforcement being the main part of my job responsibilities, I can truly feel as though I'm helping in this little corner of the world. But it just feels...I don't know...lacking?
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The construction crew smoked cigarettes while working on my house renovation. Every now and then, I get a whiff of that stale smoke smell. Maybe it's my imagination, but it makes me grit my teeth every time. And don't get my husband started on the Market Fresh coffee cups we're still finding in hiding places in and around our house. Is it a rule that construction workers have to be so inconsiderate while on a job site?
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