My overstuffed brain

Multitasking has never gotten the better of me before, until this week. I just became so overwhelmed with everything that I couldn’t concentrate on anything. So, as therapy, I went and washed dishes, drank a beer, and went to bed. I woke at 3 a.m. with the same problem: overstuffed brain. Too much going on in there! Ack!

So, to continue with my self-therapy, I have taken to writing. Maybe by emptying my brain onto the page (screen, whatever) I will be able to function normally…well, function, again.


Yes, I am supposed to be grading 50 essays right now. Yes, I’m procrastinating. But, I have learned from past experience and that is to not grade while angry. Why did the class average a “D” for this essay? Mrs. Walker was in a lousy mood so everything she read was crap. I know the work isn’t complete crap. Maybe just a little crap. I had an awful day with the boys. Had some gypsies been in the vicinity, I would have gladly sold my children to them. Ugh! Therefore, no energy, lousy mood, no grading tonight. Tim will be taking the boys away in the morning.

While the boys are out, I get to finish making the living room allergen-free. Yippie! Super-cleaning this house is a tremendous amount of work. Drake and I spent all morning on Monday at the allergist. Let’s add to his issues, shall we? Like this poor kid doesn’t have enough going on that we need to throw allergies into the mix. The list of allergies has expanded: grass, mold, dust mites, dogs, cats, peanuts, egg whites, and soybeans. Holy cow! We’ve been going back and forth with the pharmacist. The doctor prescribed Flonase for the boy and she really doesn’t want to give it to him. Not recommended for children under 4. When we saw the doctor, he told us that if Drake were 10, he’d put the boy on allergy shots. That’s how bad his allergies are. Give him the damn Flonase! He hasn’t been able to breathe through his nose in a month. She finally gave us the meds today. Sheesh! So, yeah, cleaning the house. I’ve finished both boys’ rooms. I am systematically going through the rest of the house. He can’t be present while I clean, and Flynn isn’t much help.

It dawned on my today that I have reached the point in my career that I am teaching people who were born the year I graduated high school. And, for the first time in my career, I feel old. I didn’t feel old last quarter, oddly enough. Here’s what started me down the old path. On the first day of class, I let my students ask me any question they want (barring my weight and age- no woman should have to answer those questions). One student asked me what my favorite movie was. I didn’t answer right away because I was thinking. I have such eclectic tastes that I can’t narrow it down to ONE favorite. So, she switched the question to what was my favorite comedy. Without missing a beat I reply A Fish Called Wanda. …chirp…chirp… nothing. Blank stares. One person had heard of it. One. I didn’t bother discussing the merits of Sean Connery as James Bond. I’ve never felt this disconnected from a group of students. At least we all have Facebook.

I didn’t sign up to be a 1950’s housewife, but that is what I have become. Don’t get me wrong; I am ecstatic that Tim is gainfully employed again. I got spoiled having him work from home all those years. If I needed to go to the doctor, I could at any time. I could schedule a hair appointment during the week. I could leave the house for an hour on a day like today and he would be there to watch the kids. The boys miss him. I love to see them when he comes home; they both get so excited and run to the kitchen to meet him. I pretty isolated. I did join a couple of mom groups, but I haven’t really bonded with anyone. I haven’t really been trying. Overcoming my introverted tendencies is a real challenge. Drake seems to be making friends wherever he goes: the waiting room at the allergist, in the McDonald’s play area, the park. But, when we go on playdates for the mom groups, it ends up in disaster. I know of at least two kids Drake doesn’t get along with (for a variety of reasons), and now that he is getting older, he’s starting to push back. Someone always ends up in tears. It’s tough to get to know other adults when you are distracted by your child’s meltdowns. I’ve been here four and a half years, and I still haven’t created a friend base. At least I look good in pearls. I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

I never could have made it as a doctor. You have to remember so many different things and the combination of those things and the combination of combinations of those things. For example, the doctors at the hospital couldn’t figure out what happened to my Mom last week. She met with another doctor on Tuesday. He made the diagnosis of Prinzmetal’s angina. Anyone? Anyone? Never heard of it. Had to look it up. Or the GI specialist that diagnosed Drake as having alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency. Never heard of that one either. I’m slowly learning so much about medicine with this family. But, if I ever hear the phrase “It’s not uncommon” uttered by a medical professional again, I will punch him/her in the face.

My brain is still stuffed, but it is no longer overstuffed. I realize that I am just bitching. It’s that what therapy is all about? I could go on, but I don’t want to scare you…more than you already are.

Inglorious Education

Tim and I watched Inglorious Basterds this past week.  I do enjoy Tarantino's work.  I became enamored when I saw Pulp Fiction at the now non-existent Tacoma Mall Theatre with fellow writing major Josh Smith.  How story telling became non-linear.  How the music was another character.  How he refused to patronize the audience by explaining everything.

But, this isn't a love letter about Tarantino.  It's a letter of embarrassment at the American educational system.

And you are probably wondering how I made that leap...

After watching IB, I went to IMDB to find out more about the actors.  I'm kind of a geek in this respect (and many others...bite your tongue...you know who you are...).  As I am going through the list of actors, I become more curious.  Most of these actors are European (not British).  For most of these actors, English is not the first language.  Most of these actors are fluent in multiple languages.  Yes, I'm sure dialect coaches were on hand to assist the actors, but probably more for the Americans.  And here is where I make my point.  The European actors were fluent in usually three languages.  Fluent.  Flu-ent.  Why?  Because the European schools teach children multiple languages at an early age, when the brain is still spongy.  We Americans wait to muddle through Spanish in high school, when the brain is more rigid.  I can barely remember how to ask for the bathroom in Español.  (I can order a beer.  Can't do much after that.)

When Brad Pitt says, "Bon giorno," with that horrible southern drawl, not even attempting to sound like an Italian dialect, I was reminded of how the world sometimes views us.  We expect everyone else to use our language, but we can't be bothered to learn theirs.  I hope this changes some day, but I won't hold my breath.  Until we can convince the powers-that-be that this is a worthwhile avenue to pursue, we will continue to be monolingual.

Flynn's Sensory Experience

Flynn is acquiring new information every day, and he seems to learn the most through the use of his mouth.  (How Freudian!)  Here is an ever-expanding and incomplete list of my "Please Don't's".

Flynn, please don't...
...lick the wall.
...lick the floor.
...lick the electrical outlet.
...lick your brother.
...lick gum off the sidewalk.
...lick the puppy.
...lick the kitty.
...lick the door.
...eat dirt.
...eat sand.
...eat the leaves off the tree.  You aren't a koala.
...eat the grass.
...eat the birdseed.
...eat the flowers.
...eat the bread off the ground.  That's for the birdies.
...chew on rocks.
...chew on that stick.

My little goofballs

I have couple of odd ducks for children.

Drake's been dressing himself.  (Can you tell?)

Having trouble figuring out which is the front. 

(Both the shirt and pants are backwards.)

Let me in, Mom.  I know I've been eating dirt...

Downward facing dog

*Sigh*  They're never going to be normal, are they?

Dear Miscellaneous Charities

Thank you for your interest in my bank account. However, at this time, I have enough address labels to cover every surface of my house. And since I pay all of my bills online and haven't sent a hand written letter in years, the beautiful labels with the images of frogs, butterflies, children's artwork, hearts, seashells, pumpkins, snowflakes, and foliage are now art supplies for my son. His latest piece titled "Charitable Contribution" is currently on display on the refrigerator through the end of April. When/If I decide to contribute to your worthy(?) cause, I will contact you.

Thank you.

My Precocious Child

The boys and I were watching Cars tonight. Part way through, Drake starts dancing around and won't sit still.

"Drake, do you need to pee?"
"No."

One minute passes. Still lots of moving.

"Drake, are you sure you don't need to pee?"
"I don't need to pee, Mommy."

One minute passes. I finally pause the movie.

"Drake, go into the bathroom and try to pee."
Insert whine here.

This kid peed like a drunken sailor. Wow! As he is finishing up his business, I say the following.

"Wow, that was a lot of pee. Your body was telling you that you needed to pee, but you didn't listen to it. You need to listen to what your body is telling you."

After he finishes washing and drying his hands, he turns to me.

"Mommy, I'm listening to my body. It says I need to finish watching Lightning McQueen."

And so it begins...

Book review

I just finished reading Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters. I must say, I enjoyed Pride and Prejudice and Zombies much more than SSSM. PPZ was just more, um, realistic? I can buy into the idea of zombies and ninjas, but the idea that Regency-period Britons could erect a domed city on the ocean floor was too much for me. Plus, the author gave Colonel Brandon a squid face. He deserves more than that.

What impressed me about PPZ was the cover: dual authorship. Jane Austen was given full credit. The book was 85% Austen and 15% Grahame-Smith. SSSM gave no credit to Austen (at least in the Kindle version- the paperback gives her top billing). This book is strays awkwardly far from the original text. The best part of the book was the bonus section at the end- Book Club questions for discussion.

I have on my Wish List The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Zombie Jim: Mark Twain's Classic with Crazy Zombie Goodness. It will have to wait for now. I'm going to start Mr. Darcy, Vampyre. Sadly, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is not available for the Kindle. (Same author as PPZ- should be good.)

(I realize I am posting this on April 1, but I assure you, in all earnestness, these are REAL books.)