Wrapping Up Another One

I'm sitting here in my living room this New Year's Eve doing something I haven't done since college. I'm typing on my own computer!

Since we first got married and pooled our money to pay for a "refurbished" piece of crap desktop computer, I have been sharing. With my husband, with my kids, briefly with my parents. Having my own computer seems absolutely decedent and...liberating!

My husband bought me a very cute HP Mini for Christmas. So far, I am loving it. It is so light and has as much (actually more) power and memory than my husband's laptop. He keeps finding more and more ways to get me to write my book.

Speaking of writing, I have done little of it of late. This last month has been, well, just weird. I'm not even sure how to describe it. I have been very withdrawn from the world, but in a very nice way. I'm not depressed or sad or anything. I've just been in my own little world, taking care of my little family, reading and thinking. A lot.

2010 has the potential to be a very dynamic year for us. Or it could be business as usual. I'm just not sure.

I have been looking for a job. Job searching sucks, by the way. I'm not just looking for something to make money or fill time. I want a writing job or a part time job that actually sparks my interest. Frankly, I don't want life to change for my kids in the least. If I can't do a job while they're in school, I won't do it. and since I don't want to pour coffee or sell anything, it's been a challenge.

Three months later I've found exactly one prospect.

I've applied for a part time job in the development office of our local symphony. I think I would be a perfect fit for this job, but now it is up to the symphony folks to realize it too. I'm hoping that the fact that we've been subscribers and donors since we've moved here will help my case.

If I get this job, 2010 will be vastly different, especially with a deployment looming in May.

If I don't get it, I think I'm going to stop looking for a while. I certainly have plenty of things to do that I won't get paid for.

So I am looking forward to the new year with hope and excitement. It's funny, it seems like so many of my friends have hated 2009. even my horoscope mentioned how awful my last two years have been. (So does my husband's and my son's.) But I found 2009 to be, well, perfectly fine. 2009 is the year I got my kids settled in an awesome school It doesn't take much else to make me happy.

This year I resolve only to bring more love to my house on a daily basis, no matter what it takes or how much I have to bite my lip.

I hope you have a love-filled 2010 too.

Chemical Imbalance

I am in an excessively bad mood today. Seriously, I am unreasonably angry and annoyed. At everything. And more to the point, everyone.

I know it is hormonal. And so I thought that the knowledge of the reason for my horrible mood would help me lessen its impact.

I even said it out loud to my empty house before I picked the kids up. "Knowing that your bad mood is just hormones, you can control it."

Bullshit.

Bullshit!

It doesn't help that most people are stupid or rude or mean or some combination of the three. It also doesn't help that the garage is such a freaking mess that I can't find what I need. It also doesn't help that my usually responsible child is trying to take shortcuts with his homework.

My husband should be very glad he's a bunch of states away today.

Not even the King-sized Snickers is helping. That's what I call a lost cause.

So, I've been thinking...

There are three little words that when spoken by my darling husband strike fear into the very core of my being.

"I've been thinking..."

I can only reply in one simple way.

"Uh, oh."

So, he has come up with some variations on the theme like...

"I have an idea."

The other day he hit me with a "So, I've been thinking and I have an idea."

That deserves more than an "uh, oh". That deserves an "Oh, shit!"

And what was his idea?

*shaking my head*

You know, I love that man. I love that even though in the twenty years that he's known me, I have never been successful at anything even remotely career related, he still thinks that I can do anything.

Sure, I've managed to keep two kids alive and plump (and not disturbingly messed up) for a number of years. And even I'll admit that I was a very good student once upon a time. But when it comes to jobs or work, I suck.

But he still believes that I can do anything. Anything! Really. Like...anything.

His brilliant idea is that I should start my own business. He thinks I should start a marketing firm. He even did a bunch of research to get me started.

Never mind that my fifteen year old degree in marketing is next to worthless now. I mean, think about it. The Internet hadn't even really gotten off the ground back then. But I don't even want to run a marketing firm.

Generating clients and pitching marketing plans is the very last thing in the world I want to do right now. That would involve actually talking to strangers.

That husband of mine has had a lot of "uh, oh" ideas over the years. He's thought of everything from planting a garden to having a baby. But his ideas--the things that he thinks I can do, and the things that he thinks we can do together--they're one of the reasons why I love him.

Light Dawns on Marble Head

My daughter wrote a letter to Santa with a wish list. It's all American Girl stuff, which she assures Santa is her favorite. She even starred the things she wants most.

Then she left her letter taped to my computer monitor.

Me thinks the child has finally figured something out.

At least I don't have to steal the letter from under her pillow anymore.

Cookies Fix Everything

Note to self:

Hey, crazy! There are people out there with real problems. Now quit your bitchin' and go shave your legs.

And make a dentist appointment.

And eat a cookie.

All the best,

Me

Just call me Nelly!

Like 99.9% of the people on the planet, I care too much about what others think of me.

I think that's why I'm so very shy. I know that first impressions are everything, and I dread having to make one at all. (We have talked about my fear of failure before, right?)

This fall I decided, shyness be damned, I was going to go out and do something I've been wanting to do for years. So I started taking piano lessons.

It's been going pretty well. I'm learning a great deal about myself, things I should have known a long, long time ago but that I've likely been ignoring in order to live with some illusion of coolness.

Lets' see. Like, for example, I'm a complete nut ball. I like to do things perfectly right from the beginning. I hate to not be the best at something. I think way too much. And...oh! My fingers like to stick out at odd angles like I'm forever clutching a tea cup before the queen.

Yesterday at my lesson, I was feeling strangely nervous. I don't know why. Possibly with our Nor'Easter, my husband being off work, the kids being off school, and my cleaning frenzy to prepare for our home concert, I didn't feel prepared for my lesson.

Now, my teacher is a very nice guy. He's primarily a jazz pianist, but he's the music director at his church too. (He inadvertently made me admit that I don't go to church last week. I wonder if he hates me now.)

He's never been anything but positive and constructive, yet I worry.

When I flub the music all up, I don't want him to think I'm not practicing. I don't want him to think that I'm wasting his time. I don't want him to think I don't respect him as a teacher.

My husband tells me I'm nuts. He says that I pay for the time, it's mine to do with as I please. Cynic that he is, he says that my teacher really only wants to get paid. As long as my check clears, he doesn't care about anything else.

But I think my teacher likes me. We laugh a lot. He's got me playing music I have no business playing after only two months.

But yesterday, as I flexed my fingers to get ready to play, I had to stop and look at him.

"I'm nervous today" I told him. "I don't know why."

"I can tell," he told me. "I'm the most laid back guy around! You don't need to be nervous. But let's warm up with some scales."

So then halfway through the lesson, when I finished up a song I thought I had done pretty well on, he remarked, "Yeah. It's hard to play when you're nervous."

What the...? Do I suck that bad?

He went on to tell me that the first time he met me he could tell that I was a really nervous person.

"I made a note to myself to be as calming and encouraging as I could," he told me.

Seriously? I'm a person that people have to treat with kid gloves? Seriously!

I made a great first impression. And now I won't believe anything positive that comes out of that man's mouth.

Here I was thinking that I'm all strong and courageous, and shy for sure, but gregarious and confident for all that.

Apparently I was wrong.

I feel like I should have just stayed home and never tried something new. I'm embarrassed. And while I sat before my teacher and felt my face flame with a hot blush, I was mortified.

This has affected me more than I like to admit. Probably because I'm such a weak, nervous Nelly.

I won't quit because we all know how bad I am at that, but I am starting to fantasize about the day the kids get out of school when I can tell him that I won't be able to take lessons over the summer because I don't have a sitter.

I've decided to start my own practice challenge. I have next week off because of Thanksgiving, so I am challenging myself to practice every single exercise and song, every day for two weeks. My plan is to be so comfortable with my music that I couldn't possibly be nervous.

There is nothing worse than people who reflect our true selves back at us. Illusions are so very comfortable. They don't make me nervous at all.

Energy to Nest

Have you ever wanted to have sex really bad? I mean really bad. Bad enough that you kept thinking about it at inopportune times? But, you were so bone-deep weary and tired that you just couldn't make it happen?

Yeah. That's how I feel about blogging right now.

I've had tons of things to talk about and keep composing posts in my head, but I just haven't had the time or energy.

I have been in a major nesting mode lately. My husband took a few days off of work and we finally, finally, finally got this house decorated. Or at least the ground floor of it, anyway.

I can't tell you how happy this makes me!

It's about time. We got a new chandelier to replace the 1990's brass monstrosity that we've been pretending isn't actually hanging in our faces for a year and a half. We replaced kitchen cabinet knobs and door knobs. We hung pictures and curtains.

This all makes me unaccountably joyful!

I guess I just needed an impetus.

A few months ago I volunteered to host a home concert for our teacher's violin studio. I did it purposefully knowing that it would finally push me to make the house presentable. I guess it worked.

As it turned out, we had to host two back-to-back concerts because our teacher has so many students this year.

I was nervous about the whole thing, but it was a blast. I even had fun moving out our furniture to set up the stage and chairs. Oh, and my piano was extremely happy to be played by the professional accompanist we hired. She was awesome.

The design of our house does lend itself well to a concert setting. I have a feeling will be hosting a few more concerts in the years to come.

Now, there. I did it. I blogged something.

Now if I can just get myself to seduce my husband (when he gets home from D.C. this weekend) I'll really be getting somewhere.

In the meantime, enjoy some pictures.

Fill 'er Up!

Last year I was bored and miserable.

I didn't have anything in my life that I found interesting. I'd lost my (poorly) paying writing job when I moved. I'd lost my zero paying volunteer job when I moved. And I lost the friends I spent the rest of my free time with when I moved.

And so I wished I hadn't moved.

But, hello! I live in a beautiful place with a way better quality of life.

So once I met my most important goal and got the kids accepted at their new school, I decided to take definitive steps to fill the rest of my life with interesting things.

I looked for a steady writing job. (Ha! What a joke. People expect you to give your writing away for the honor of being published.) When that didn't work out I considered going back to school and making a major career change.

And then I remembered how much I hate work.

So I signed up for piano lessons. I started a parent group. I volunteered at the new school. I volunteered for the soccer program.

And now I'm so overscheduled and busy it is ridiculous.

And I don't have the time to enjoy my beautiful new city. But I'm not bored anymore. And I'm not miserable.

Mission accomplished.

"Rest if you must, but just don't quit."

I'm a bad quitter.

Once I start something, I hate, hate, hate to quit. I've always been that way.

Unfortunately, it means that I sometimes end up staying in situations that aren't good for me (like crappy jobs) just because I am too prideful to quit.

It also mean that I will sometimes take years to start something I'd really like to try. I'm afraid that if I don't like it or it doesn't work out, I'll be stuck.

Because god forbid a quit.

That goes for everything from piano lessons to writing a book to decorating my damn house!

What if it is too hard? What if I fail? In my fucked up brain, I won't be able to live with myself.

That's why it took me years to try NaNoWriMo. And why it is now almost impossible for me to admit that it was bad timing. That I bit off more than I could chew in an incredibly busy month.

For now I'm going to do what generations of parents have done.

I'm going to live vicariously through my kid. She's kept to her NaNoWriMo Youth Program word count goal. She's written with utter abandon. She's having fun.

Hey, my kids aren't ever going to be pro athletes. Believe me. I have to live my dreams though them somehow.

(At least my piano lessons are going okay.)

In Honor of The Demon Dog's Birthday

Dear Buffy the Wonder Puppy,

if only you didn't defecate
or urinate
you would be so great

The End

And it Begins

I came home from dropping the kids off at school Wednesday and found a piece of notebook paper on the floor. I figured my daughter the princess of disorganization had dropped a page of her homework.

Nope.

It was a MASH game.

My husband had no clue what I was talking about when I mentioned it to him. Please tell me that you all know what I'm talking about.

You know...

Mansion
Apartment
Shack
House

This kind of thing is extremely new for her. But she has a new best friend who has a sister who is in Middle School. So it begins.

I'm actually thinking...well...it's about time.

We had the kids' teacher conferences yesterday.

Side note: Both kids are doing really great at their new school. They are both a little behind in specific disciplines of language arts because of the crap schooling they got last year, but both of their teachers couldn't say enough good things about their personalities, work ethic, or manners and that's the most important thing. (Yeah!) Plus, both of their report cards were very good.

(Why does every fucking blog post devolve into me bragging about my kids? Remember when I blogged about other stuff? Yeah. Me either. Oooh! And remember when I hated parents who could do nothing but brag about their kids? Yeah. Me too.)

But anyway...

My daughter's teacher assures me that this is the best group of kids she's ever worked with. Not a Mean Girl in the bunch. And she sees my daughter in a way we never had. Outgoing. Gregarious. Theatrical (well okay, we see that one, but usually we're the only ones). Competitive.

She said, "You daughter is exactly the kind of student this school serves best."

Yeah, we know. Hence my desperate need to get her in the place.

She also said that she's never seen a new child adapt so quickly. And as happy as we are to be a part of this new school, they are just as happy to have her as a part of their community.

This is an incredible load off of my mind and soul.

Plus, the girl hasn't cried at school once this year. Not once! Last year I was looking for a good therapist to diagnose what I thought might be an anxiety disorder. And this year I never even have to look over the kid's homework. Or drill her about what went down at school. Or beg her (and yell at her) to please, for the love of god, tell me why she is crying AGAIN!

She's found a place where she's comfortable enough to play MASH and hang with a whole gaggle of nice girls who tell her they like her clothes and can't wait to see her in the play.

All is right with the world. Even if we do start having to worry about boys calling.

Sometimes "normal" is the most beautiful word of all.

If this is wrong, I don't want to be right.

I feel really, really wrong and sick for checking out the president's ass.

But not wrong enough not to do it.

Keep on keeping on, Big B.

p.s. Are those shorts from Target?

p.p.s The picture is blatantly stolen from darling Nicky.

A Star Isn't Born

My son very seriously wants to be a movie star when he grows up. He doesn't understand why people laugh every time he mentions it.

He was just telling us the other day that he wants to live in New York after college because he thinks there are lots of acting jobs there. My brilliant husband told him that if he wants to be a movie star he really needs to move to Hollywood. So, now that's what he wants.

Thus far our declarations that our kids can do whatever they like, as long as they go to college first have been completely accepted. But my son had a sudden realization today.

"Hey," he said out of the blue. "There are kid movie stars too. Why can't I be an actor now?"

Oh, man. Here it comes.

My daughter is enthusiastically involved in the Young People's Theater Program at school and she absolutely loves it. She was cast as "woman" in The Pied Piper. This cracks me up. She is actually playing the comic relief townsperson but she tells everyone she is playing "woman".

I'm pretty proud of her. Her teacher says that it takes someone special to play comedy. It takes timing, of course, but also a complete disregard for looking stupid.

She has no problem looking stupid.

But it is my son who has the highly developed sense of humor. So far it is the kind of sense of humor that teachers and adults enjoy and occasionally goes over other kids' heads. I'm very okay with that.

So I think I have him convinced. Wait until third grade when he can participate in the theater program at school. Wait until he graduates from speech therapy (for god's sake). And then we'll talk about acting professionally.

I don't have it in me to be a stage mother. (Has anyone read Hell is Other Parents?) I'm hoping he'll forget it by then and decide to be a doctor or something.

What? A mother can dream.

Too Bad, So Sad

So, last May 38 kids tried out for the super fancy travel soccer program. 36 kids made it. My kid wasn't one of them.

Now, their goalkeeper broke her arm, and all of a sudden they want my kid.

Ha. We might say no just out of spite. *Harumph*

Well, hello there!

Well, hello, October! Don't you look smashing.

The last couple of posts I wrote here on the ole' blog were so negative, I've been meaning to write something, just to move them down a bit.

I was down for a little bit. But I'm fine now. Well, I'm cranky and moody and sleepy and nuts, but, you know...fine.

I've decided I won't worry about the future and just live in the moment. It's how I made it through the last twenty years. Why change now?

In the meantime, I have been busier than I've been in years. I've been volunteering at the kids' new school. I've founded a parent group for violin moms and dads. I'm learning to play the piano. And I'm shuttling the kids around to a ridiculous number of activities.

Those damn kids keep getting better and better at their stuff, and so their stuff keeps getting more and more demanding.

This weekend I'm taking my daughter to the Shenandoah Valley for a fiddle camp and violin performance. I was supposed to take my son too, but I decided that he and daddy just needed a weekend to chill. They'll be chilling at the hockey rink being all manly man together.

Now I'm off to come up with an art project for the second grade boys to auction off at the school's big gala. Because I'm good at that. Yeah. *ahem*

Picture Day

Yesterday was picture day at school.

Crappy

Resentment is a crappy, crappy thing.

My husband has been home from a TDY less than a half hour and we already had a fight.

I felt like he was yelling for no good reason. But it all ended when I said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. Just like I always do."

What a crappy thing to say.

He went upstairs without a word.

Sometimes I feel like a failure as a military wife.

This sucks.

Give Me Strength

I drove my husband to work this morning so that I could pick him up after work and not leave his car stranded. He had his promotion party this afternoon.

So, as we were driving across the bridge this morning, my dear, dear husband said, (and I quote, for the record!) "I can't wait to retire."

It was his plan when we moved here to do whatever it takes to stay put and retire here. He says things like, "My family is more important than my career." And, "I love it here." Jesus, just last week he was wondering how everyone would react if he kissed the kids' new headmaster on the mouth. That's how much he loves the kids' new school. (We all do.)

But around lunchtime I got an e-mail from him saying, "We need to talk!"

When a military husband e-mails home those four words, it is never good.

But we never connected before his party. And by the time the kids and I got to his party he was slurring drunk. Slurring and happy drunk.

Once we got home and got the kids to bed, and had ice cream, he wanted to talk. He got a few e-mails today. They were asking him to come work deputy positions in North Florida. Which would hopefully lead to commanding positions, most likely in glorious places like Alabama, North Dakota or Louisiana. He also found out he is eligible to put in for a command position.

So he went from, "I can't wait to retire," this morning to "I want to be a commander," this afternoon.

Oh, oh oh! Never mind that just this morning I asked him why he didn't get selected for a certain something and he told me that he chose to spend his time with us before a deployment over studying for the required tests. He insisted it was a good choice that he had freely made.

We can't stay here if he really wants to push his career. If he pushes to be a commander, we'll move a lot. A lot.

He wants to know what I think.

I don't know what to tell him.

I want him to be happy. Faced with the reality of fulfilling the dream he's had since he was...oh...about 19, he can't pass it up. He's too proud to tell people he just wants to quietly play out the last few years of his career for his family's sake. The allure of finally having the chance to be in charge, run things his own way, and probably get promoted to colonel is just too irresistible to resist.

I don't want him to regret not going for it.

But I am extremely happy here. The kids are extremely happy here. We are incredibly lucky to have them accepted at one of the best schools in the country. And we are even luckier to be able to afford to send them there.

I don't want to move to a place where I'd have to put the kids in public or church school. Where I can't even find a violin teacher. Where we've lived before and know we don't love.

He asked me, "What would you do if you were me?"

I can't answer that.

I am a woman who gave up a very promising career to marry a military man. I've sacrificed a lot to give my children everything I thought they needed. I love being "just a housewife" and a stay-at-home-mom, but it has come at a personal price.

When it comes right down to it, at the very core of me is the instinct to sacrifice myself for the sake of those I love. That's not good or bad. It just is.

I can't ask him to make the same sacrifice of personal fulfillment that I would. He doesn't know what it is to give everything up for his family. And I don't know what it is to have to provide for that family.

Without him there would be no violin lessons, private school or stay-at-home mom, because we wouldn't be able to afford it.

When it comes right down to it, I just want him to be happy. And he just wants me to be happy. And for the first time, those two things just can't line up.

So he joked, "Maybe I'll be divorced by then and I can just go on my own."

And I told him, "We shouldn't talk about this while you're drunk."

But he insisted he was sober. And he went on to suggest that maybe we could just live apart for a few years.

I maintain that no school can trump having a loving father in your life. He maintains that a great education is more important than anything he can give them.

I just don't know. Two years ago when he was in Iraq he was ready to get out of the service. I think is his excitement over advancement he has forgotten just how miserable he was. We'd be moving to the armpit of America again only to be separated from him for six months out of every eighteen.

I have no answers for him. I don't know what to say. He knew this decision was coming, I just don't think he thought enough about how he was going to feel about it.

I've always taken the same stand when these kinds of decision come up. I tell him, "Do what you need to do. We'll be fine. I'll make it work."

It's the stoic answer. The strong one.

I'm not sure how much strength I have left.

Pay Raise, Baby!

Today my husband found out that he's getting promoted to Lt Col.

Woot! Woot!

It's a pay raise, baby!

I'm really proud of him. But it is hard for me to imagine anyone referring to him as Colonel. We're not old enough for that! Wasn't it just last week that we were pegging our jeans and bagging groceries for four bucks an hour?

He brought me home roses and congratulated me on "our" promotion. How sweet is that?

Doesn't seem very Lt Col-like to me.

The Mouthes of Babes

A friend and I were expounding on and on about money and the haves vs. the have-nots when I spouted off, "Money makes the world go 'round!"

Overhearing this, my son felt the need to object. "Money doesn't make the world go 'round."

"What does make the world go 'round, buddy?" I asked him.

And he answered simply and matter-of-factly, "Love."

My friend and I then fell into the black hole of his sweetness.