Monthly Archives: February 2013

To The Left, To The Left

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Facebook has ruined my blogging. I can no longer seem to craft a coherent, structured series of paragraphs that relate a story.

I think in status updates, you guys. It’s getting problematic.

See, my funny little son has been incredibly amusing lately. I want to share it with people, but it’s the sort of thing better told in quick little spurts. I’m going to try to make this work, chickens. Bear with me. Also, I love coffee.

Sorry. That slipped out.

You guys may remember when Russ turned 4 and refused to acknowledge it, because 3 was his favorite number. (That’s still the case, by the way.) Or how green is the preferred color of everything. He told me yesterday that his brain was green. That’s why green is his favorite color. *status update*

The things you learn. According to him, my brain is blue. I never would have guessed. *comment response*

Now, in addition to a favorite color and number, he has a favorite side. *status update*

Not a typo. He prefers to be on the left side of things. To place things on the left side. I don’t think he knows that being left-handed is a thing. I hope he never finds out. I’m finally starting to be able to decipher his writing.

Here’s the problem. As funny as this is (and it is hilarious, you guys), it makes me worry a tiny, tiny bit. Teaching special ed introduced me to a world of possible issues. Are these things the personality quirks of an incredibly stubborn little man or do I have a budding Howard Hughes on my hands? I can’t help but wonder if these preferences are going to evolve into compulsions. Is he going to start insisting on 3 pieces of broccoli lined up on the left side of his plate?

Mommy don’t play dat.

I’ve spoken to his doctor, both the head and body variety. No one seems terribly concerned. I don’t cater to his preferences and he can function without 3, or green, or left sidedness. I’m probably worrying for nothing.

But damn it. He’s getting 14 blueberries for snack today. Packed on the right side of his lunch box. *status update*

Ups and Downs

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Oh, my chickens. Be happy ours is an internet relationship. Part of being bi-polar is inflicting yourself on others when you’re pretty sure they don’t deserve it.

Can you tell I’m in a down cycle?

I’ve been an absolute bear the past few days. Three times now, I’ve had to give myself a time-out because I’m being a grouch. My mother used to tell me I had a choice, that how I felt didn’t have to dictate how I behaved. She was right, to an extent. It only took me 30 years to figure out how to do it too! Yay! But I still find myself mopey, snappy, angry, hungry and a whole host of other PMS dwarves. Ugh. And now, as predictable as the end of the fairy tale, comes the sadness. That unbearable weight that presses me down into my bed, tells me it’s not truly worth getting up, I’ll just screw up even worse than I did yesterday. I have kids, so thankfully, that is not an option. Depression is insidious though. She finds her way around the roadblocks. Would that I have the perseverance of my disease.

I’m finding myself trying to figure out a way out of social engagements that I would usually look forward to. I’m forgetting all manner of important things. My poor husband is trying so hard to help, but there isn’t much to be done. How do you tell the man who loves you,”I don’t need a back rub or for you to take me out to dinner. I need a smack and stern talking-to.”

Like that I suppose. He won’t smack me, but he’s truly gifted at the no-nonsense talking-to. Must be a South Dakota thing.

In the meantime, I’m not sitting in a corner, surrounded by Kleenex. I’m tackling this mucky feeling with a holistic approach. I’m utilizing my phone’s calendar and alarm features for everything. I’m making a true effort to think before I speak. I’ve stepped up the exercise, begun juicing again, and possibly the most important, added prayer to my daily routine.

I’m not praying for God to lift the depression. I’m not asking for anything. I’m just reflecting on His goodness. Too early to say it’s working, but I have faith. And maybe that, in and of itself, is the antidote. Because what is faith, if not the answer to hopelessness?

Goodbye, Cruel Facebook World!

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For almost my entire life, I have lived in a Christian household. My parents manifested their faith in a variety of ways and denominations, but we were, from my earliest memories, Christian.

My mother could tell you about the wild life they led before they came to the Lord. I was a baby. Go to her for those stories.

Because of my long relationship with the Lord, I’ve grown somewhat…complacent.

Oh fine, lazy. Uninterested. Faithless.

I’m having a mid-Christian crisis.

In the middle of the crisis of faith, I’ve left off doing some important stuff. One of those things is observing the spiritual side of holidays. I had thought about a Lenten sacrifice, but in true lazy-ass fashion, dithered until Ash Wednesday was upon me. Whoops, missed it this year. Whatever. No doing without wine, chocolate or TV for me! What was the point, really?

And then, I read this. And I knew what the point was. I knew what to give up, because while reading this short post on the meaning of Lent, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

So I logged on to Facebook and committed myself before I could wriggle out of the conviction. I’m pretty much a superhero when it comes to wriggling out of things. I had to rip the bandaid off. Nothing dramatic, just a quick, “I read this, it made me think, I’m giving up Facebook for Lent. See ya after Easter, losers.”

And then forgot to link to the article.

Who’s the loser now?