June 1, 2008
Frustration. Frustrated. ß Me. I swear I want to write more often! There are several problems, the first being that I sort of freeze on topics nowadays. I very often stay awake half the night thinking about something that I know I’d feel better about if I just got up and wrote out…but then I start thinking that it probably won’t be that interesting, I don’t really have anything concrete to say (I do a LOT of debating with myself in my head, but I do not use different voices or anything, which is why I still have myself convinced that I’m mostly sane), and really, who am I to go on and on about some topic or other anyway? I mean, I always have thoughts on current news events and such, but I’m far from the most well-read person in the world and inevitably I feel as though I don’t know enough to really comment publicly. So lately the only thing I find to write about is whatever is happening in my life, and really about 97% of my life is pretty much mundane (no offense meant to those sharing it with me).
I highly doubt you all want to hear about the recent toilet uh… “discussion”. Think along these lines:
Me: “The toilet will not flush again.”
Him: “You have to hit it on the top of the tank, the float sticks sometimes and it doesn’t fill right until you jar it”
Me: “I’m not hitting the toilet. I’m not learning the secret code to ONE more thing in this house. I use a toothpick to start the microwave, as adeptly as though it were a “start” button even, and I reach my finger inside the VCR to trip the “play” mechanism manually, but I’m pretty much DONE. The toilet either works or it doesn’t, and if it doesn’t then *someone* should fix it!”
Not necessarily a proud moment for me, I admit. On the one hand, it should be noted that I didn’t bring up the time he changed out steering columns on his truck and had to give me lessons on how to use the new windshield wiper controls which were now mounted standing straight up from the floor of the “vehicle”. Nor nary a mention of the time I was told to be sure not to remove the screwdriver that was wedged into the old steering column…I definitely exercised some restraint there and I want a little credit for that. On the other hand, it’s not really his fault that we have this increasingly disturbing track record of spending money on new appliances (or toilet apparatuses…apparati?) only to have something really critical break five minutes later. The microwave was a perfectly great over-the-range thing until the day I pushed the start button and it just fell back inside the unit. Entirely gone. Obviously someone around here is a little too enthusiastic about making microwavable entrées. (It’s possible I still worship the technology like it’s 1975) The toothpick works alright really, we just have to reach in there and hit the thing the button used to hit, and it’s all well and good. I’d say a good half of our appliances are stranger-proofed in some such manner, so good luck trying to move into our house and live in our closets unbeknownst to us – because there is a news story I’d like to comment on! Can you imagine? Finding out someone has been living in your house with you for a year and you didn’t even know it? Please. We’d come home and find the poor squatter rocking back and forth, crying and muttering, in front of the microwave/TV/toilet.
So now that I’ve dashed any last vestiges of the “Sherry is a nice person!” sentiment lingering around out there we may as well just go all the way. I’ve been really, really moody lately. I’m making a few personal changes, and I’m just not the type of person that handles change well at all – even change that I’ve brought on myself. It throws me all out of whack, and I have been known to let that uh…ooze out my every pore. My oldest daughter is heading to middle school next fall, and that isn’t really working for me at all. I obviously should’ve stopped that whole growing process thing about four years ago, no idea what I was thinking. It doesn’t help matters that my youngest is right behind her, so by this time next year I won’t have any elementary students anymore – nor ever again. No more class parties, no Valentine’s boxes, no “*sob*, I had to flip my card!”, and no more playground grass stains. In other words, by this time next year there will be a steep increase around here in slamming doors, ringing phones, and maybe, just maybe, bathroom time will begin to be coveted instead of eschewed.
Oh! This reminds me, that in the interest of equality, I have to post daughter #2’s Biopoem. I posted one previously for the oldest, and the youngest just brought hers home around Mother’s Day. Here it is:
Nice, smart, caring, creative.
Daughter of Sherry and (dad).
Lover of Dolphins, Animals, and Family.
Who feels sometimes happy, sad, or lonely.
Who needs quiet, peace, and candy.
Who fears war, vegetables, and homework.
Who gives love, time, and knowledge.
Who would like to see Peace, Dolphins, and the end of war forever.
I would agree with her that “peace and quiet” can be somewhat lacking around here. I would assume we have different goals on how to accomplish that though. Summer vacation is a mere five days away, and I have very mixed feelings on the matter. It will be great to have a break from herding everyone out the door every morning at the crack of dawn. I fear though that the together time will magnify our current biggest problem, which is that I have become invisible. Yes, that’s right, I have developed powers I didn’t even know were humanly possible. I say something, and no one hears me. I explain, describe, practically draw a diagram of what I need to happen next and…nope, doesn’t register. Even worse? Lately they will actually look me right in the face and seemingly believe what they are saying when they argue that I “never said that!” I hit the end of my rope about a week ago, and seriously, it’s all I can do to keep from running out to the street, screaming my head off just to make sure that someone *can* hear me.
There also seems to be an issue even when I am not completely invisible…as though maybe somehow a filter has been installed that I’m unaware of. Take five minutes ago for instance. It’s Sunday night, and both kids just had a shower. The youngest is wandering about the living room naked…which you would think they’d be past at this point, but no – no matter how many times I run the “one of your neighborhood friends could walk right up to that open window at any moment” scenario, they still do it. So I say, “naked person, go put some clothes on”. She leaves, and returns ten minutes later (and there’s another thing, someone needs to tell me what it is they *do* with that time while I think they’re off doing what I asked) wrapped in a blanket. Seemed all well and good until she starts leaping around on furniture and the blanket slips to reveal she’s still fricken naked underneath! I seriously think I could list about fifty such things just from the last few days, it’s beyond annoying. I just want to be heard! It’s pretty bad when you feel as though you might fall over weeping when they actually do what you asked them to do, after the first time you said it. Geez already.
So yes, things have been a little difficult. I obviously need to work out a new plan to deal more efficiently and caringly with both aging children and busy husbands. There have absolutely been too many “poor me” moments lately, ones where I declare that nobody could possibly know the trouble I’ve seen. Having to keep a toothpick near the microwave, and giving the toilet a good whack whether it needs it or not? The horror, right? I am turning over a new leaf, starting today. I will try to be completely unrecognizable to all who love and endure me, I promise. Proof positive:
Only a few hours ago, I was at the softball field watching daughter #2 play a makeup game. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that my heart was singing at the fact that after a game Tuesday and Wednesday, she will be done for the season. I cheered the team on, I practically jumped out of my lawn chair when some little girl *almost* caught the ball midair…I was *in* the moment! When the game was finished and I overheard the coach say “…then Saturday we start playoffs”, I’m very proud to say that even while my mind was screaming “playoffs? What? This Saturday? What? Why the hell isn’t that mentioned anywhere on any written material they gave me over these eight weeks? Playoffs? We already played them all, twice! Why would we need to do it again? For goodness sakes will this never end?!”, I kept my cool, I think even maybe managing to look like it was good news, this postponement of freedom from games, practices, uniform locating and washing, beverages for twelve providing, not to mention the never ending supportive comments that are supposed to be ready at the drop of a hat (or ball). I only got down on my knees and begged for thunder and lightning to go with the “rain we can play in” one time this week, and THIS is my reward?
The good news though, is that the portable bathrooms at the softball field don’t require any kind of manual stimulation at all, and you don’t need to bring your own toothpick in order to have a well-done hotdog. I could probably live there, undetected, all summer long.
Want More of Sherry's Work?