Reboot to the head

Every once and a while, when the planets are misaligned, the selfish ‘tween in me wants to scream at the universe for not making things go my way. I want the square peg in the round hole, dammit, and I want it yesterday! When I was growing up and picturing and planning my life, I can guarantee you it didn’t look like what I see on a daily basis. In actuality, I worked incredibly hard to avoid this very situation of stay-at-home-momness. I don’t mean to imply that my life is horrible or that I hate it—it’s not, and I don’t (97% of the time)—but it isn’t what I saw for myself (or what I had been working toward) either, and making peace with that, or just adapting my vision and shifting my time-line, is a challenge that enjoys rearing it’s pissy little head at me with regularity lately, and to quote Billy Crystal’s SNL character, Willie The Masochist, “I hate it when that happens.”

When the challenge of being the only responsible adult in the house is especially burdensome, I am as resentful as the next person in the bathroom after the toilet paper has been used up and not replaced. Maybe even a little more than that. When I get my wallow on, my resentment knows no bounds. I experience my own little bitter supernova. K is the easiest target (for being in the Army and leaving me to deal with the kids and every other little thing here at home by myself), but I like to throw in the Army (for giving us the means to add some tension and division to our marriage), terrorists (for being such evil asshats and the catalyst for my lack of in-person partner), feminists (for selling an ideal that for so many women is not realistic and, when unattainable, guilt-inducing), and finally my own expectations (should they be so high?). They all get a crack at making the top of the list depending on the time of day and the direction of the wind. I resent that K gets to go do the job he loves and have adventures (yes, I’m aware that it’s not all fun and games where he is, but it is different), while I’m home doing a job I sometimes think I’m ill-qualified to have and my biggest adventure is making it out of Target without one or both of the kids crying because they didn’t get whatever glittery piece of plastic junk they thought they would die without. My favorite ridiculous thing to resent is my graduate degree (it mocks me). On top of it not being useful currently, it’s a financial burden. Double the fun. Don’t ask where my diploma is because I can’t even tell you—I’ve hidden it that well. Eventually, I even get around to resenting being resentful. That’s what I call a productive day.

The trick is not letting resentment bubble over and snowball into something more grievous. I won’t know if I am successful at mastering that skill for a long time. Like I said, it’s something I struggle with. I don’t have a secret formula or 8-step program to make it go away, and I’m not so selfless that I can feel good about putting myself last indefinitely. I’m learning greater patience (thanks, Monkey) and I write to put those feelings more on paper than on people. In the end, though, life is what you make it. I know this. So I bust my ass to make sure that that resentment doesn’t take over (and really, who doesn’t want to let the crazy, bitter, chick take the wheel?! Talk about adventure! /sarcasm). I haven’t learned to shed those feelings completely—I’m neither Superwoman, nor perfect, nor remotely enlightened. You have to have time and focus to become those greater things and time is at a premium in my house and Focus is the kind of car K drives. The best I can do is try not to let those feelings rule my life and cloud my thinking, and, instead, make opportunities to create a different path to the life I envisioned for myself.  A Road Less Traveled, if you will (thanks Mr. Frost!) or if I may steal an over-used Hollywood phrase—a “reboot.”  Hey, it worked for Star Trek, why not me?

Yesterday was a day I let things get to me. I was just simmering and angry and in a mood to sell the kids, pack up the dogs, and go to parts unknown. I doubt anyone but me knew I was feeling that way which is a good thing. But not even kickboxing was beating off the dark cloud, and usually punching and kicking the standing bag across the room does wonders for me. Luckily it was really windy out and I had the option to be wussy and stay indoors until the wind died down and the sun came out. By day’s end, I had gotten a dozen hugs and kisses from my boy for no good reason, watched him voluntarily try veggies and like them (earning him a dozen hugs and kisses from me), help R work through a rough patch of missing her Daddy (which she tries so hard to manage on her own, brave girl that she is), and finally forced myself into a better mood by singing (thank you Incubus—you are always there when I need you!) as I cleaned up the very messy kitchen, took out the garbage, and tossed in a load of laundry (I know, it sounds like I stole my evening from Snow White…). I was even able to appreciate the clear night sky with its twinkling stars and bright half moon as I brought the dogs in from their last venture out for the night. When the kids were finally asleep and I had the benefit of a  few quiet moments, I thought about how to cut some corners into the round hole so I can choose the peg that works best for me, and I woke up feeling less resentful and more hopeful that the crazy chick will not find the keys to the car today.

Lastly, and somewhat off topic, Happy Greek Independence Day from a fairly independent, and—in spite of what I wrote up above—happy Greek. Zito Hellas!

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I like to move it move it

February is like that one piece of clothing you have that on the hanger looks great and you can’t wait to wear it, but when you do put it on, it pulls funny in the armpit or is a little too short in the leg and makes you fidget all day, or the color doesn’t actually match anything else you have, or there’s a stain in a most embarrassing location that you forgot about and didn’t notice until you left the house. So you sigh wistfully as you put it back in your closet and hope that next year maybe it’ll magically be perfect. It never will be though and should be cut up and made into something crafty like a bow tie for your snowman or a remote control cozy instead. Apologies to all my friends and family born in February, but I can’t stand this month. It’s short, which should be a plus, but it feels longer than all of summer put together. I say we break it up and distribute those days to the months that need it. Like May, August, September and December. Who’s with me?!

Like clockwork, around the middle of February, my self-diagnosed seasonal affective disorder reaches it apex and everything catches up with me until I consider making sacrifices to whatever higher being will turn me into a real bear and let me hibernate. Where are those Disney Animators when you need them?! So between the distinct lack of division of labor in my house, the constant cold weather and still early dark, on top of a couple of freelance projects running simultaneously, I pretty much retreated to my room avoiding everything that could be avoided without tragic consequences and mentally scrambled to figure out where my priorities ran off to. For those of you who know me personally, you’ll understand what place I was in when you see my work area for the week.

I’m not a messy person at all. I’m pretty much the opposite bordering on OCD. Ask my kids. I don’t function well in messes and it makes me itch to have piles and stuff in the way. I know plenty of people who are pretty happy and do well in their jobs surrounded by chaos. I’m not one of them… although as a kid I loved a good mess and was quite content to wallow in my room where no one could see my floor (which given it was green and white linoleum with a maroonish carpet remnant over part of it, no one was missing out either). Not any more though. I might be related to the Anal Retentive Chef, in fact. So that picture up there of my “desk” is a clear indicator of just how scattered and out of balance I was the last week. The rest of the house (minus the kid’s rooms which mimic flea markets on crack) wasn’t that bad, thankfully—it was neat enough, but covered with a fine layer of dust, dog hair, Monkey’s favorite “crabby patty” cracker crumbs, and ice melt from the front walk. Normally, since Monkey is allergic to the universe, I clean the house top to bottom every week to keep him comfortable and me sane, but even that fell apart. The universe became an icky place.

Some light snow covered up the outside ick for a day or two, and given how unusually little snow we’ve had this season, the first thing I did was crawl out of my head and put some snowshoes on Monkey and me and escaped for a little while before he had to leave for the afternoon. Monkey required we go visit the two closest pine trees in the field behind us to give them a hug. I guess they looked cold and lonely.

Then we wandered out a little farther toward the wood line where Monkey picked out a different tree for cutting down (lest you think he is an actual tree hugger).

He, at least, has some balance to him. He made snow angels and I made a little snowman and then it was time to head back into the House of Yuck.

Being out in the clean, pristine, blank paper-like snow gave my brain the kick-start it needed to move out of my mental rut.

When things get off-kilter for me like that, I tend to mentally stand still like the proverbial deer in the headlights trying to figure out what to do next. But instead of fright or flight, I eventually experience purge or rearrange. Takes me a couple of days to get there, but inevitably a mock spring cleaning is what breaks me out of this. Normally K is around to humor me and help me lift heavy objects, but, this time, I not only don’t have the manual labor at my disposal, but I’m debating how much I should do. It’s still early in the deployment and I get this way pretty regularly. I had told K that I wouldn’t do too much changing of things around the house (even though he and I are both notorious for moving the furniture around quarterly) because I always felt sort of bad for the soldiers who would come home with a certain picture in their minds of home and walk into something significantly different. I can warn him and send pictures, but it’s different than being part of the process. So, what and how much to do and where to start?

R’s room is safest because K doesn’t go in there much anyway, so it won’t be so shocking to redo, and is probably most in need of change because her furniture is really for younger kids and not helping her keep things mostly in order (as required by her evil mother overlord). I know she’s young and her genes are fulfilling their sloppy kid destiny, but I don’t see how giving her the right tools to self-organize can be a bad thing. She needs a new desk, a bookcase, mirror, and either under bed or some other storage. I’ve already hit a couple of thrift stores in the area with no success, but will have to go back again and visit a couple more as well as a local antique store I’ve been wanting to poke around in. I want to keep the cost down of course, but I’d like her to have some interesting pieces that reflect what an interesting kid she is. She has some wacky taste far afield from my own, but I figure if we start with conservative pieces and the potential for embellishments, that should work for both of us.

Of course, it is almost impossible to change one room without starting a chain reaction or three. I could simply and cheaply repurpose furniture we already have throughout the house into hers and the furniture she’s not using can go elsewhere. I can start with my desk that is currently in our living room and give her that. I’m not using it much these days and it’s a good size that can hold storage drawers under it. Plus, I can repaint it whatever crazy-ass colors she wants. Moving that desk would leave a gaping hole at one end of our living room though. Unfortunately, that particular part of the room is sort of odd. It’s like the one kid who is always at the party but not really participating but watching what everyone else is doing. We’ve tried to give it various uses–reading area, work/arts area, books only area–nothing really seems to mesh with the rest of the room. I just can’t come up with the right combination. Our living room is huge but the bulk of the furniture centers around the fireplace. This extra area is kind of dead space with a couple of bookcases, my desk, and two doorways that break it up effectively into a corner, but where it is part of the living area, I want it to fit in better. I just don’t know what to do with it. I do know that I can’t work well there because it’s too close to the kitchen and I tend to snack when I get stuck or bored.

If I give R my desk, that means I have to move my work and art supplies somewhere—more than likely that means the Harry Potter-sized closet under the stairs where we keep the cleaning things and miscellaneous Other Stuff (like the Nerf machine guns). I’ve thought about converting that walk-in closet into an office, actually, but I’m not there quite yet (I mean, if a small, fictional boy can sleep in a closet, I can certainly work in one). Either way, if I ditch my living room work space, I’m going to have to reorganize the closet to fit all my office paraphernalia which means more shuffling and/or money spending. Where I prefer to work is in my bedroom. There’s a little alcove in it that you can’t see when you walk into the room and it’s the perfect place to hide out and not be in the middle of crazy kids. My room is sunny, warm, has a beautiful view of the back yard, and is down a hall from the other rooms upstairs. It’s my favorite place in the house. Problem is that it is small (smallest bedroom in the house). It’s got a queen bed, long bureau, two night stands, two dog beds (which I refuse to relocate, so don’t even bother suggesting that as an option), an arm chair and a small two-shelf book case. No room at the inn for a desk or anything else. At this point, I’ve gone from having a home office to actively looking into downsizing to a lap desk. It beats the card table and cookie cooling rack I’ve been using recently. Ah…so many decisions, so much online purchasing research!

What would be ideal is if K were here to either talk me down and point out that what I really need to be doing is working and not mentally playing move the space with our furnishings, or grab an end of the desk and help me move some shit around. Either would be fine. No one else is vested in my decorative maneuverings and I cannot trust the opinion of a 9-year-old girl with visions of shiny new(ish) items to call her own(ish). Today, though, life is not ideal, and like other women in my situation, the decision is ultimately mine to make and execute and hope that my changes will work for K too when he comes home. I could use less February, some more snow for my snow shoes, a babysitter, and a notebook, but I’ll take a good night’s sleep, a shower, some completed freelance work, and an afternoon field trip to see movie props from my favorite former closet-dweller and wizard extraordinaire, Harry Potter. Some distance and a little magic should ultimately do the trick.

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Not gone, haven’t forgotten

Hello again! I didn’t mean for yet another week and change to slide by, but it has. In the tumult of teeth removal, Christmas preparations & field trips, the first (and now second) snow of the season, my new drawing class, and K leaving yet again, my brain has been everywhere and unable to really pull it together to write. Not that I haven’t wanted to or that I haven’t tried, I just haven’t completed. And honestly, it’s made me rather cranky. I not only love to write, but I need to write.

K made it to his mobilization station safely (as did Uncle P) and is going through more training before he comes home again for the holidays. I really don’t want to complain because I am glad we are getting some time with him, but the constant adjustments—especially around the holidays—is just chaotic and what I like to call “Death of 1,000 Cuts.” I’m always prepping for something rather than really enjoying what’s in front of me. I’m already pretty horrible at relaxing (in spite of being convinced I’m actually lazy) and this mental shifting sets me even more on edge and scatters my brain cells to the four winds. I think I might understand why Monkey sits and scratches if he is not at peace with change. I do pretty much the same thing mentally and I’m just as cranky as he is only it takes me even longer to come out of it. Sadly, I’m not known for cutting myself any slack so my frustration with myself compounds. Old dog, impossible trick. But I’m trying.

I always have high hopes and a big box of ideas and projects I really want to work on, but actually doing them takes time and motivation. Swinging back and forth between co-parenting and single parenting, not to mention the whole alone but still married thing, saps me of pretty much everything for at least a couple of days. Add to that the short days and long nights of a very drawn-out and ridiculously snowy winters and not hibernating becomes a full-time job. If I listed everything I felt during these transitions, you would A) think the men with the straight jackets were going to be along shortly, and B) understand why I’m behind in life.

In the next few days I’ll be catching up here with all kinds of non-angsty things (some with pictures!). I just wanted to let people know I haven’t dropped off the face of the Earth, nothing is wrong, and I haven’t quit doing this. See you tomorrow!

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What’s knocking around my noggin

I wish I could bottle whatever it was that made me so productive the last few days because it was a beautiful thing. Not only did I get several tasks accomplished and crossed off my list that normally would sit there undone for days, but I was able to think—and finish—several thoughts which is damn near unheard of around here in the land of chatty children. On Sunday, R. and I cleaned the house. I cleaned things I haven’t looked at since we moved in almost 2 years ago. Cleaning that much is not my normal routine. I do function better in a clean house so I try to keep it that way, but Sunday’s cleaning was a bit excessive even for me. I guess I needed to keep my hands busy so my brain could do its thing. I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for Clorox Wipes and orange cleaner.

Many things worked their way through my noggin as I scrubbed the stove and oven—some short story ideas that my never see the light of day, design ideas for a couple of jobs I’m doing—but chief among them was how to approach things here at Gainfully Deployed as we get deeper into this journey. My goals for writing this are to be honest about what goes on at home during a deployment and find the positive at the end of the day. While I have no intention of lying, I am not sure how forthcoming I want to be in a public forum like this either. Every life has its ups and downs and every relationship has one issue or another, but I think those problems are exacerbated and a whole set of new problems arise by being part of the military. It’s that part I want to get across to people who may not really understand or have even thought about it, plus I want to get past them myself with a fair amount of grace, and writing is what helps me work through problems. I think finding the balance between enlightening and TMI is going to be tricky though.  I value my privacy very much, but I also want to dissuade people of the notion that everything is right with the world again when a soldier returns home. If that were the case, I would not bother writing this blog because there would be nothing to learn.

Some days I resent this life attached to the military and other days I’m grateful for it. Nothing is purely good or evil and this is no different. I, personally, don’t enjoy living contradictions, but it seems that this time in my life is chock full of them, and reconciling everything in a positive light takes work and a whole lot of diligence. Being apart during a deployment changes everyone involved and when you come back together you have to hope that the new people you have become can at the very least peacefully co-exist with the intent to grow together in the future. I can tell you from past experience that the coming back together is the hardest part of any deployment, and I would be lying if I didn’t say it is the part that concerns me the most in all this. We still haven’t finished adjusting from K’s return from Iraq 4 years ago, and from talking to my friends from that time, I know we are not the only ones.

So why is all of this on my mind now when the deployment is just starting? K. is due home later this week and even though he’s only been gone a few weeks, there is still a mini-adjustment we have to go through on top of keeping the momentum of our new routine for when he is gone. He’ll only be home for a short time before leaving again and as much as I’m glad he gets to be with us even for a little while, I find these stops and starts difficult. If he were going to be home on leave and not have to work, or even if he were coming home and not leaving again, I might feel differently, but he’s going to be very busy with final preparations for his unit and not really available to help the way he normally would. It’s tougher on the kids than it is for me because I can control my expectations somewhat better, but these in-between times are just not normal. I know all of this leans on the negative side of things, but it’s really just background information. Putting life in context, so to speak.

Today is today though, and I’m going to enjoy the sunny, crisp, Fall day. I’m going to take Monkey to his OT session and have a chai at the cafe downstairs and relax for a change. I might work on those short stories or I might bring my colored pencils and do some drawing. When Monkey heads to school this afternoon, I’m going to focus and plow through some work that’s been on my plate for a while and then I’m going to help the kids with their homework when they get home and then I’m going to enjoy a quiet night with my dogs and sleep well. You really can’t ask for more than that.

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Getting short

The last couple of days has left me a bit word blocked and mentally stagnant. I really should have gone to bed earlier the other night–I think I’m still trying to make up that sleep. Obviously, I’m not in college anymore and near all-nighters should be avoided. Lesson learned…again. Maybe. The result is that I’ve gone from being restless to being brain dead. The weekend is here though and sleep should be more available. This is K’s last weekend at home for a while and I don’t know that we have many plans beyond eating whatever he wants for dinner. We seem to be waffling between keeping it low-key and doing “something.” His packing is pretty much done, so there are just odds and ends to do around here. I go back and forth between wanting to spend time with him and wanting to take advantage of another adult in the house to watch the kids. I’m not terribly good at picking the right option all the time.

R. has a pumpkin carving party/sleepover to go to tomorrow night, and we’ve got to go pick up another pumpkin for her to bring. We also need to work on her costume for next week’s Trick or Treating. We’ve got to get Monkey up to speed about K. leaving for a while too. And I want to pick up a world map to help the kids know where K. is. We’ve explained to R. that her Dad will still be in this country for a while so hopefully that will take the edge off things for a while for her. She’s a bit of a worrier. I can tell by some issues at school that she’s not quite herself but she doesn’t recognize it either. Some of that is also 9-year-old girl drama that is more pervasive in her class than I care to think about. I blame Hannah Montana and iCarly (neither of which are allowed on in our house).

Now is also the point in which I give more thought to what I share with K. about day-to-day operations. Some of it will just be wasted space in his brain. Some of it he’ll want to know. Sifting through that–especially on the fly–makes me seem a lot less chatty. Pretty soon his communication time will be pretty limited and I don’t want to be in the habit of wasting his time. I’m also trying to get my brain around parenting a little differently. My parenting style is a bit harder than his is and sometimes less is more with the kids. It’s taken me a long time to recognize that. I’m a bit of a dictator–generally benevolent, but dictator nonetheless. K. is definitely the warmer and fuzzier of the two of us. K.’s handling of R.’s issues at school this week reminded me that I definitely need to invest in a bit more patience and compassion for the year. My extra stores of common sense don’t necessarily play well to emotional children.

I can’t say I’m feeling overwhelmed with everything approaching–I’m as ready as I can be–but the transition can be difficult to manage these last few days. I can tell it gets to me because I feel like I’m just standing still, waiting like a sprinter before a race. I get over-involved with inane (yet amusing to me) things to fill the time until it’s time for me to…take over?…I’m not sure there’s a right phrase to describe it. Until I’m on my own I guess would do. Even then, it’s not like I won’t consult K. if something important is happening. But since I’m the one managing the household anyway, it’s not that big a shift in job, it’s just assuming more responsibility. Every decision I make is pretty much my own at the point he leaves. A position that is both liberating and somewhat daunting.

For as much as the last couple of days have been draggy and less than stellar, I can not underestimate the satisfaction of a clean house, folded laundry, and sharing some True Blood fangirlishness with friends. I know that moving forward everything will be fine–well, an altered version of fine–and I just need to be patient, relaxed, and clear-headed. The fire in the fireplace is crackling away, there’s food in the fridge, the dogs are dozing on the couches, and I’m ready to enjoy one more night as a family.

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Zoomies in 3…2…1

When my dog, Casey, has too much energy built up, he gets what I call “zoomies.” He charges at top speed around the yard or through the woods like he’s chasing his last meal and sometimes he spins in circles for a few seconds as if in some canine ritualistic dance right before a sacrifice of porcupines and possums. You can almost see the energy streaking off him as he flies around the yard with his floppy Lab ears trailing behind him and his mouth open, showing off a toothy grin. He is practically exultant when he’s done. With one final full-body shake from his nose to the tip of his tail, he finishes with a wag and pants for a few seconds and then is his usual compliant, gentle self. I could use a round of zoomies.

Every now and again I get a serious case of restlessness like I have now that would be great to zoomie right off. Sometimes it lasts for weeks and sometimes a few hours. The causes for this state of mine can be legion. In this case, however, I’m just antsy for things to get underway. We are only a week and a half from the start of the deployment now and it’s going to go by quickly and I feel like I’m wasting time–which I am. I spent most of the afternoon doing mental pacing, virtual fidgeting, and wishing for something—anything—to change which was really useless. I have so much to do. My list of “have to’s” is quite long and only outstripped by my list of “would really really like to’s.” Sadly spinning my wheels just makes the ants antsier and the lists a whole lot farther away from being all done. I find my own company maddening and my self-indulgent procrastination irritating beyond belief when this happens. I know what needs to get done, and I know that if I just buckled down and took the smallest of steps to start, the work I have to do would get done quickly. But nooooo….

I was able to bypass this restless feeling for a few hours which was a relief. One of the things that works sometimes is if I listen to loud music and sing. There is nothing like belting out a couple of songs to expend some internal energy. For me, singing is a signal that I’m being productive. I sing when I’m working on a project that is going well and that I’m engaged in doing, I sing when I’m cooking, and I sing when I paint or draw. Singing shifts my brain just enough to keep my hands moving and my to do list short. I was hoping that singing would trick my brain into thinking it was doing something meaningful. On the docket was K.T. Tunstall, The Black Keys, Foo Fighters, Muse, and Incubus. I wished my ride to and from watercolor class were just a little longer so I could have sung my head completely clear but no such luck. The singing worked well enough for me to get through class though where I made up the colors for my next painting. Unfortunately when I got home most everyone was in bed, so singing was really out of the question, so here I am up (waaaay) too late thinking about how I’m going to fix myself for the coming days. First thing on the list will no doubt be a nap.

Anxious is not a word I like to use to describe myself and I can’t say that that’s at all how I’m feeling about
everything coming up. I’m something akin to excited. Not like excited for Christmas or a birthday, but excited like when I started college or a new job. Those times I knew I was going to come out on the other end different—hopefully better—and the thought of all the new things I was going to learn was thrilling. The unknown isn’t always a bad thing. I had tough times at school and work now and again, and I know this won’t be different in that respect, but unlike the last time K. deployed and I looked at the prospect with dread, this time I’m just itching to prove myself worthy of the challenge. I can’t wait to see what this year will bring.

First though, I have to get some sleep. Lullaby and good night….

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