Thursday, May 23, 2013

The Fog

I have been succumbing deeper and deeper into a fog of being. 

I'm sure some of it is simply a lack of sufficient sleep, and consequently I'm sure some of it could be helped by simply managing to sleep for twelve hours a night for a week. 

However, I am intimately familiar with how sleep exhaustion feels, and this fog isn't just it. 

This is the fog of stress. 

A little bit of stress gets taken in stride, with few indicators of it shown beyond perhaps being slightly shorter with people. 

A lot of stress brings the dramatics and my freaking out. It is often loud, sometimes illogical, and usually fades as quickly as it appeared once the trigger point is removed. 

But then there's the level of stress where I'm so stressed I'm beyond freaking out and just stop connecting with the world. 

There are still attempts at forced cheerfulness and attempts to fulfill  societally expected human interactions, and the occasional moment where I managed to forget everything that caused the fog in the first place. 

But they are brief and fleeting. 

I'm buying a home, and on top of all the normal stress with things like inspections and mortgages and changing the kids' schools and physically moving my shit to another location that people experience with this process, I have the city of boulder to deal with because it's their program enabling me to buy this stupid condo in the first place, which is just like a second mortgage stress but 500 times worse. 

(Ok, I don't actually think the condo is stupid, but all my fair and rational self restraint has already gone into not saying fucking ever other word during this. Mostly just because I'm writing on my phone and it keeps changing it to ducking thanks to autocorrect, but still....) 

Plus there's all these issues with there just not being quite enough money and I keep staring at my bank account like somehow there will just be a few extra thousand dollars that I forgot about sitting in it, which has become such a bad compulsive habit on my part I am now having horrible dreams where I continue to stare at my bank account and every time I glance away the numbers reshuffle into something less, and despite having gone over budgetary things again and again before trying to buy it I'm starting to doubt my capacity to do this at all because it's not coming together like it should. 

And then there are the children. Who are always there. And always have stuff like teeball practice and preschool graduation to go to. And always need stuff. Like to be fed dinner. Didn't I just feed you dinner yesterday? Can't I just let you sustain on doughnuts and caffeine? My diet is making a beeline to be that exclusively at the rate this week is going, surely it would be ok for you as well. 

And there's the new boyfriend, who is very good but still requires time and energy and attention and not just in ways like how I go out to dinner with him instead of sleeping at 7pm, but also the mental aspect where I'm trying to handle the huge tidal wave of emotions and thoughts that get sprung on me as a result of him not being a jerk. Something being good doesn't mean it can't also be just as overwhelming as the bad stuff. 

And there's work. You know, that place I've been spending 40 hours a week at for the past two years, and yet still haven't managed to get myself promoted to a level above where I was originally hired. So, add wanting a new job to the list of life while still dedicatedly working at the old just in case they decide I might be worth something after all. Plus I need that pathetic little paycheck. 

And just in case my personal life wasn't quite crazy busy enough, it's big annual turtle float fundraiser time at the preschool I'm on the board of directors of! Because really, there's nothing quite like being required to hit up businesses for money right after dealing with all the crappy money stuff connected with trying to buy a place to live. Oh, and sorting turtles. Who wants to pack boxes when they can sort and count hundreds of little plastic turtles out of trash bags. 

So, all of these things are causing such high levels of stress that I went way past the freaking out stage and am now in the fog. 

It's not so bad in some ways, at least I'm not freaking out any more. 

I'm also having trouble with stuff like taking the correct turns driving home because I'm so shut off and can't sleep because I haven't been able to sufficiently interact with people so there's way too much thought in my head that won't go away until I share it with someone but dammit I don't want to talk to anyone I just want to go to sleep already. 

Which is why I went to extreme lengths to unfog today long enough to write it to you even though I didn't want to. Maybe, just maybe, it'll let me go to sleep when I try tonight, having actually managed to say "hey, stuff's kinda hard right now world". 

If not, maybe someone will understand my need for caffeine and chocolate doughnuts right now. 

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Go Pink or Go Home

The biggest challenge of putting colors in naturally dark hair is the bleaching process. 

The last time I pinked my hair I went to a salon and had a nice lady spend an hour fussing over it while I read my book. 

Overall it was a good experience, with the exception of her making it much more pink than the purple I requested and the color itself fading in an odd pattern disappointingly quickly. 

However, it wasn't particularly cheap to do, and with how crazy everything is already this month with buying the condo and all I wasn't exactly feeling the motivation to make a hair appointment any time soon. 

But the color was fading fast and leaving blond in it's wake, and I'm just not much for going blond. 

So I impulsively decided to re-color it with the leftover dye from my original forage into hair pinking a year ago. 

There were some technical difficulties along the way. 

Like, how it's really hard to do stuff to the back of your own head. 

So, after some glitches in the whole "wrap the bleached chunks of hair in foil as you evenly coat with pink", I decided to throw caution to the wind and just smear a fairly liberal coating of fuchsia coloring over most of my head. 

There were some unexpected complications in this part as well, like how I managed to get much of my skin pink along with my hair, and there was definitely a moment where I started to genuinely worry what I had gotten myself into. 

However, after some serious washing of the hair and furiously scrubbing of the skin (and the subsequent washing of the shower to remove the pink effect),everything  appeared to have come out ok. 

And then my hair started to dry. 

And as my hair dried, I noticed that there seemed to be much more pink in it than there had been previously. 

Turns out brown is relative, and some brown can retain pink without being bleached beforehand.

Ah well, there are worse things to do accidentally to one's hair besides a bit of excess pink (which is something I should remind myself of when my children inevitably take hair pinking into their own hands). 

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

The Well Creamed Three Year Old

It was evening. 

It had been a long day, and I was tired. 

As I lay down in bed, fully appreciating the softness of my pillow, I heard something. 

A little bit of rustling. 

For half a moment I tried to believe it was just one of the girls rolling over in her sleep, holding my breath for the expected silence of a sleeping household to return. 

But it didn't. 

I pulled my weary body back out of my cozy bed and took a peak into my children's bedroom. 

Adrianna was sitting on her bed looking at books. 

She was thoroughly covered in diaper cream. 


Kristina did this to me too, although she had been a year younger than Adrianna is at the time, so I had a good idea about how much of a pain it was going to be to take off. 

Diaper cream, for those of you unfamiliar with the substance (the all four of you reading this who don't have kids), is effective in part for its skin sticking and water repelling properties. 

And I have yet to figure how to get it out of hair in any sort of timely manner, as shampoo does not work nearly as well as one might hope. 

[note to self: try dish soap]

So instead of caressing my sweet pillow with my unconscious head and a little dabble of drool, I got to give Adrianna her second bath of the night with much rigorous scrubbing in an attempt to make her not-completey-covered-in-diaper-cream for school in the morning. 

(I know, I set such ridiculously high standards on my children's appearance, probably giving them a complex for life about having their faces liberally covered in white gooey paste.) 

But on the bright side, her face is definitely diaper rash free. As is her nightgown. And bed. And hands. And doll. And books...

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Sippy Cup

I'm not sure whether it's my motherhood status and years of genuinely appreciating the functionality of sippy cups, or if I've just worked at Target surrounded by cheap gimmicky crap for so long that I can no longer objectively tell classy vs tacky. 

But regardless of the reasons for why, I think I may have found my new favoritest drinking thing ever in wine glass sippy cups. 

The lack of spills. The sturdiness. The fun color lids options. 

The long and varied list of places you could use them. At the playground, when camping, job interview, on a bike ride, preschool graduation ceremony, at the zoo, when you're already quite tipsy, sitting on the couch with your kids watching Disney movies.... 

Yep, truly a device for the ages. 

Also, I should probably go ahead and apologize in advance to whomever invites me to the next wedding, as this totally blows normal wedding gifts of serving bowls out of the water and I just might have to succumb to the "novelty" of it (even if it's a little tacky). 

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Going Overnight

This week I'm going overnight for work. 

We're resetting all of the coolers and freezers and it was decided by those who are not me that doing it when the store was closed would be an advantageous way to go. 

The part of my mind not concerned about my nightly sleep and dreading how cold it's going to be actually sees a lot of sense in this decision, and that part was the one that agreed to this whole endeavor in the first place. 

However, as sleep is something I value a close second to chocolate, I spent some time pondering how to switch to the overnight schedule and still get some amount of sleep this week. 

And I had a plan. 

Implementation of operation snooze button began last night by me staying up really late. 

Or would have, if I'd managed to stay awake past 10:15pm. 

I may have been going to bed at 8 for too long. 

So, first stage of operation snooze button was a bit of a fail. But never fear! For I am full of valor and ambition and was totally ready to take on stage two this morning by spending the hours my children were in school in my bed sleeping. 

Or rather, laying in bed trying really hard to sleep and telling myself that occasionally reading and checking Facebook was totally almost as good. 

We'll see how tonight goes. 

But don't worry, Target is totally stocking caffeinated gum these days, I'm sure ill be fine. 

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Biggest Baby

Back when Adrianna was itty bitty, I used to ponder about whether she was too quiet, too chill, too small. I was worried she would get walked over, pushed around, lost in the shuffle.

I shouldn't have worried.

As she has grown, she has come quite into enough personality and strong opinion of her own to handle any situation.

Especially when someone calls her a baby.

In the world's defensive, her lack of hair does keep her looking younger than she is, and she is only three after all.

But she gets spitting fire mad when someone calls her a baby.

For, as she will rightly tell you in her rage, she is a big girl.

Unfortunately, the biggest repeat offender isn't the older kids at the park or her classmates or even her big sister.

It's me.

I know I know, such shame....

But see, she's MY babygirl.

She was MY babygirl three years ago, and she will be MY babygirl ten years in the future.

I have occasionally told people that I couldn't give birth without having already named the child, because I would just end up calling it Baby for the first six months and at that point the name would be stuck.

Except that I sorta did call Adrianna 'Baby' a lot when she was one, even though she was named, and now I still use it as a term of endearment rather often.

And she HATES it.

Sorry Baby, I promise Mama will get her shit together one of these days and remember to stop calling you that.

You know, once you stop being so damn adorable.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Shark Tooth

Kristina has her first adult tooth coming in.

As she has been incessantly asking me when her baby teeth were going to fall out, one would think that this might be cause for celebration.

You would be wrong.

You see, none of her baby teeth have fallen out yet.

After my few moments of mommy freaking out over my first born having another weird thing going on with her teeth, I did what any rational parent would do and googled it.

Turns out the condition is often called shark teeth and it happens in about one out of ten kids.

The articles managed to have just enough 'it's not THAT strange' language to be reassuring while still ensuring that I called her dentist and got her an appointment as soon as possible.

From my extensive (and questionable sources) research, I have concluded that the dentist may start pulling baby teeth. Or do nothing at all. Which sorta depends on vague subjective criteria.

So in the mean time, I get to continue to console my baby girl on her lack of tooth fairy visits yet, and make sure I am stocked up on tooth fairy cash before Wednesday just in case the dentist decides to clear out half her mouth.