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Blogging for No One
I logged into my wordpress account today and was shocked to see I only had one reader. Stats don’t really matter anymore since I don’t have ads on this page and I never blog anymore anyway but I have to admit it took me and my ego a minute to digest. Really? Only one reader has clicked on this site today? What about all those google searches for ninja costumes and painted butterfly wings or chore charting printables? Where did those people go? Surely Pinterest sent over one or two people.
I thought about this sudden lack of traffic a little bit. It’s not a big deal but it’s on the heels of work being slow and generally feeling like a failure, even though I know I’m not one. It’s usually during my hungriest times that I invent the my best work so this is not a bad thing even though my anxiety in the middle of the night would like you to think otherwise. And then I realized, I love blogging when nobody is reading! This is when I can ramble on and say whatever I like and I don’t have to think about this Aunt thinking this or that Uncle thinking that or that one lady who called me a cat murderer or my ex… etc etc.. you know, all the people you think about when you write publicly about your personal life on the internet. They’re not reading! I can write whatever I want to! I have a few things I really want to put out there in nether space.
Like maybe I have a drinking problem? Just kidding. I’m pretty sure I don’t but I have to admit the worry has crossed my mind, especially since I come from a tee-totaling up-bringing. But I think my drinking problem is related more to unnecessary calories than getting drunk. Which brings me to my next block of instagrams.
I have gained quite a bit of weight in the last year or so of happy-dating-life (Too many dinners out, too many tasty drinks, too many lattes, not so much working out…) so I’ve been trying to up my game by dressing fancier (earrings! make-up! new clothes!). I’ve been doing Stitch Fix for half a year now and I love it. It’s not the best if you are on a budget but it is GREAT for someone like me who hates to shop. I feel like I have my own personal stylist and she is AWESOME. She gets me better than I get me. None of my stitch fix outfits are pictured but I’m going to try and take more pictures of them in the future.
Next random subject: Mother’s Day. If I’ve learned anything in my life of forty-some years I’ve finally learned that if I want something to happen I have to take the initiative.
It’s funny how family dynamics change as you get older. When you’re a kid you’re always getting carted off to some relatives house for big dinners and festivities and you take it for granted thinking it’s always going to be that way. And it is for a little while. You have your own family and you cart them off to your parents or your grandparents but then at some point the grandparents die and the parents are too tired to throw dinners and family gatherings. If you want your family to get together YOU have to make the plans. If you don’t nothing happens.
This is kind of a big deal. I sat in my favorite gold rocking chair and it dawned on me: I am the matriarch of my family now. I have to make the plans.
I day-dreamed up a lovely brunch with Smitten Kitchen’s boozy baked French Toast and then I made it happen. And guess what? It was awesome. I just need to step into this new job and plan like a mother.
After brunch we all went to the beach and I sat next to my mom on the sand without any wifi-connected devices and we talked for two hours. It was the best.
Which brings me to my kid. Oh, Bug. Where should I start? She’s a gamer. She can play minecraft for four hours straight if I don’t watch her and force her to log off. She also loves these little shopkin characters that I call “squigs.” They’re pencil toppers in the shapes of grocery store products and apparently they are all the rage. Or maybe they were all the rage. Who knows.
She wanted them for ages and begged for them but I didn’t know where to buy them and it just wasn’t top of my list of things to do. Then one day I discovered they sold them at Michael’s, a destination I seem to end up at every week (much to my chagrin) so I picked her up a couple mystery packs as payment for modeling for my alphamom projects. She was overjoyed. She devoured their packaging, reading every line of mouse type and discussing it with me while I listened half-heartedly. She couldn’t wait to take her little characters to school the next day. I think she even slept with them under her pillow.
The next day we were in a mad rush to get to school, as we often are, and somehow she accidentally dropped one between her bedroom and the car. When we got to school she was in a panic. Where was Waffle Sue!!? Her distress was palpable.
I wanted to be the tough mom and make her deal with the consequences of being late but as we stood in the crowd of parents and students during the weekly pep-rally, I just couldn’t do it. They were handing out awards that day and it was going on FOREVER. I know this is bad parenting but as they read off name after name after name, my eyes glazed over. I looked over at Bug mischievously and said, “Do you think going home to get Waffle Sue is worth a late notice?”
She nearly jumped for joy. Waffle Sue was SO worth a late notice in her eyes. She hasn’t had a late notice all year so we snuck off to the car like two delinquents. I know some people would probably shake their heads at this but hey, nobody’s reading!
We drove like the wind back home. She stayed in the car and I busted my butt up the stairs. I figured I’d retrace her steps and probably find it faster than she would. Sure enough, there was Waffle Sue, face down on the top step. I didn’t even have to unlock the door. I raced back to the car and drove as fast as I could safely back to school.
The whole trip probably took us less than 10 minutes and when we got back to school, kids were still milling around and not even in their classrooms yet. Bug probably could have snuck into class and nobody would have even known she was gone but she opted to take a late pass anyway. I thought it was kind of cool and she felt special.
After school I couldn’t wait to hear a full report on how much fun she had with her squigs. Did her friends have Waffle Sue too? Did they invent new games at recess? How did it all go over?
Poor Bug. She just looked down at the ground and said that her friends decided that Shopkins weren’t cool anymore. What?!!
Pfft! Kids, man.
But I’ll always treasure that memory anyway. Waffle Sue will always have a special spot in my heart.
And that has NOTHING to do with the picture above but I’m just going to let all my blogging rules go out the window because nobody is reading and I don’t care! Wooo hoo!
I’m signed up for my local CSA box that comes to the farm across the street. It’s the best thing ever. Except I can’t always keep up with all the greens. I’m struggling with what to do with cabbage. I’m not really a big slaw fan (though I do like it) and I seem to have it coming out my ears. But I love the box as a whole because it only costs $22 a week and my fridge is always bursting with the best of the best fresh vegetables. The other night I made myself a dinner of just pan-friend green beans in butter and nothing else and it was delicious!
I wish I could be on one of those shows where a chef comes to your house and cooks with whatever you have on hand. Somebody could cook a badass meal in my kitchen. Why can’t it be me?! But I’m trying. I’m getting better at cooking (besides burning things constantly with my electric stove). I’ve been cooking a lot with Payam and that always works out well.
Speaking of cooking and Payam and showing the people you love that you love them with food…I have some really big news that I’m a little scared to share but I’m really excited about too.
I’m moving in with Payam in August. I know. This is big. Living in sin and all that… But I’ve been married before and I don’t want to do it again. I feel one hundred percent committed to him and in my struggling-with-faith eyes, staying in this relationship every day feels like a bigger honor than a piece of paper. It’s been a long journey to this decision with some twists and turns that I can’t write about on the internet (even if nobody reads) but it feels right and I’m super excited about it. Both of our (conservative) families know and surprisingly, they are letting us go right on ahead and make this decision with less struggle than I expected.
Payam has a nice house with an extra bedroom for Bug so we are all very excited about blending families. We are also super excited about blending the pet famlilies. Three cats, one dog, YAY! And cooking together and just generally being a family. Tag-team parenting is so much better than single-parenting. I’m just scared for the teenage years but maybe it will be better with a partner.
I’m thinking so.
*I know some people are reading. (And I love you very much.) I think the latest wordpress update I did messed something up but I don’t care because it’s a good thing to write for yourself and not worry about who’s reading. Maybe I can keep it up.
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Prayer Beads
Caution: This post contains controversial topics that I’m super sensitive about.
PART A
The elephant in the room that has stopped me from blogging (and going home to visit my family…ugh, I know!) is that I’m dating a man who is not a Christian. (!!!)
There. I said it. This is a huge big deal for me and my family and all the friends who’ve helped me leave my marriage. Many people who care deeply about me think I am making another mistake. I’ve pulled away from people that I know won’t approve. Of course it hurts.
Maybe my fears are worse than reality.
He’s kind. He listens and understands when I don’t expect him to. He is a philosophy major so we talk about my faith and his lack of faith often. It’s not swept under the rug. Our future is messy and I can’t see beyond the next curve. Since I’m a five-year-plan kind of woman this scares me, of course.
However, I think we are in each other’s lives for a reason.
He has a daughter Bug’s age. We see each other at school and the park and we even have play-dates sometimes. It’s terribly convenient but of course we are cautious. He’s an ex too and nobody wants to replace anybody.
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PART B
A lot of you know that Bug struggles with anxiety. To sum up a long story in a short sentence: It’s been a rough year.
Her dad and I waffle between telling her to tough it out and worrying that we aren’t offering her the help that she needs. We’re so afraid that she’ll be labeled, held back, treated differently if we give her special treatment but then when you see the fear in her eyes, and the fact that she can’t even walk up the ramp to her second grade class without dry heaving, you just want to wrap her up in your arms and take her home and let her finish out the year home-schooled.
But we don’t think that is the answer. We think it would make it worse actually but of course we could be wrong.
That’s the hardest part for us as parents is the second-guessing.
We’ve talked to professionals. We make sure she gets balanced meals and plenty of sleep. We’ve found comfort in prayer and reading the bible. Bug more so than me, even. Bug has become a regular little Pilgrims Progress requesting Proverbs and Fear-Not verses daily. We’ve tried mediation, and all kinds of re-setting the brain tricks. We’ve read books and worked workbooks. We’ve pretty much talked to everyone under the sun. We’ve found a therapist and had one get-to-know-you meeting. I have mixed feelings.
Her school is working with us (which is great) and some things are getting better. Some things work. Some things don’t work. Some things work until they don’t.
I finally understand how people feel when they say they don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’ve had so many strangers reach out to help Bug. She’s so adorable and everyone loves her. I totally get that and appreciate their intent but sometimes I just want to stop strangers and say, Yes, I have looked into your fish-oil-sweat-of-bees-vitamin-supplement-drops-electro-accupuncture-shock-therapy-musical-bears-yoga-pilates-ballet-therapy. Yes, I’ve tried to talking about “my happy place” and it doesn’t work! Please, just stop talking to me and let me get through my day with my crying child. And then I secretly punch them inside my head.
Deep breath.
Maybe I’m suffering from a little anxiety myself. (See part A) I dreamt I accidentally let another women’s children drown the other night. It was horrible. And then last night when a car alarm kept going off every twenty minutes between the hours of 11pm and 3 am, I dreamt I was in a parking lot maze with various members of my family jumping out from behind cars as zombies. I dreamt that if I could just find the car that was honking and blow it up with my bazooka, I could finally save Bug and escape to the next level of life.
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Part C
But I didn’t write this post because I wanted to let you inside my brain. I wanted to share this craft that my friend made with Bug and his daughter. It was very thoughtful and it touched my heart.
He’d been thinking about Bug a lot and he wanted to share something that has helped him over the years: Prayer beads.
This is where I have to take a moment and talk to my family and friends who are conservative Christians.
I’m not converting to Islam. He is not even Muslim and even IF we were ever to blend our lives (which I can’t see because it’s behind a curve still!!!) he would never ever ever want us to convert to Islam. He is an American. He’s lived here most of his life and he wasn’t even raised Muslim. His parents are non-practicing Muslims. He’s not going to beat me or make me walk six paces behind him. I’m not going to start praying on a prayer rug or hang a clock on the wall that wails at me at three in the morning. I hate that I even have to preface this sweet craft with defensive disclaimers. I hate that I even have to be controversial and take on this subject. You know me. I hate this.
I know some of you don’t understand why I’m even feeling defensive but I have friends at all spectrums of faith and there have been times in my life where I have been that very conservative Christian and even taking a yoga class seemed like a way to open up my mind in ways I shouldn’t. I was not raised with prayer beads and they seem very Catholic (which I am not) and Muslim (which I am not). When I pray, I pray openly in sentences, not in repetition. I never understood prayer beads.
But now I do. They don’t have to be beads that you say prayers with. You can pray with them of course but they are more of a way to say a mantra over and over without losing track of where you are.
I remember when I was getting married I was a complete basket case (Bug doesn’t fall far from the tree) and Toby taught me to say over and over, “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” whenever I would start to panic. It worked. Sometimes when your mind gets stuck in a hamster wheel of worry, you have to stop it by forcing it to go down new paths.
Prayer beads are something you can touch as you force your brain to go down new paths. As you push each bead around you say to yourself something positive. Bug says, “It’s going to be okay. Nobody is going to puke today.”
When my friend gave Bug the prayer beads that he made for her we went out to get frozen yogurt and made a production out of it. He explained how it helped him when he was going through rough times. It was really really sweet. Then later we went to his house and she made one for her friend who also suffers from anxiety.
They counted out pretty beads, lined them up in a pattern in a crack on the coffee table and then strung them together with very fine string. Then they wrapped the ends with embroidery floss and made a tassel. It was strange sitting back and not being in charge of a craft for once.
And then we went home.
I’m sad that I had to mess up this really pretty craft with all my internal arguments. What a drag, right?
Moving to Irvine has been a really big learning curve for me. We are surrounded by a lot of people from different countries with different faiths. We’ve made so many new friends and opened our minds to so many new things. Good things, not bad things! New foods, new customs, new traditions, new feelings… it’s a new way of life. I like it. I’m happy here. Even though I feel like a foreigner sometimes, I feel like I belong here.
Part D
I just want to say from my heart that I appreciate my past and everyone. I don’t want to turn my back on anyone. I’m just afraid of the criticism. I miss this blog. I want to let you into my life and how it is going. I really really do. I also want to ask you to please try to understand.
New things are scary but they aren’t always wrong.
