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Evil baby

March 4, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

I have photographs covering our living room wall.  I love the history offered in each picture.  Moments of happiness, accomplishment, and surprise that tell our family story.  One of the centerpieces is a set of shadow boxes with four pictures above them.  There is a shadow box with mementos from our wedding-picture, invitation, some dried flowers.  Then a shadow box for each of our sons contains the first jars of baby food, pictures, and the knitted homecoming cap.  I think it’s a lovely grouping of very significant events, truly the creation of our family.  Above each shadow box is a sixth-month baby photograph of the corresponding person.  Above our wedding box are my husband’s picture and my picture.  Now my sons’ pictures look so much like my hubby’s pictures.  This was intentional.  And it looks adorable.  The three of them are sitting up and in little rompers with big toothless smiles on their faces, dimples decorating their cheeks.  I’m lying on my stomach in a little smocked dress, cowlick already wreaking it’s havoc.  My one eyebrow is raised up, pulling my one eye up a little higher than the other one.

My sons told me last night that they think I look like an evil baby in this picture.  Wasn’t that sweet of them?  I have news for them.  I am evil! Wahahahahahaha!  (Maniacal laugh, maniacal laugh)  No, but if they think I look evil in that picture, wait till they get a load of my hospital newborn picture.  That looks evil.  Big ol’ pointy head, screaming with all my might.  That’s evil.

I took some time to develop my charm.  Sure, I could refer to it now as “natural charm” but truth of the matter is I am happier without a lot of people around.  I work at being jovial around groups.  I suppose I would have done well in a monastery, living a solitary life.  I love spending time with my family and close friends.  I enjoy that.  Because I can simply be me.  I can be myself.  There’s no worrying about social norms.  Social norms are over-rated in my book.

Well, the evil baby has to tuck in her sweet babies.  One of them will fall asleep cuddling his Frankenstein’s monster, mummy, and Creature from the Black Lagoon.  Perhaps that’s my influence.

 

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Grimm closure

March 2, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

In tonight’s episode of Grimm, Nick came closer to some closure about his parents and aunt.  Only a bit closer to closure since we can’t cover everything in one season.  What would they do in season two if they covered it all this year?  I myself have been thinking a lot about life events.  I crave closure to certain events in my life.  I don’t like things left with loose ends.  Forgive the morbidity of the next statement, but I need to see a dead body to believe they are really gone.  It gives me closure that I need as part of my grieving process.  When that doesn’t happen, it takes longer for me to work through the whole situation.  That’s just what I need to do.

So I’ve been digging my Grimm and have been reading the Grimm stories to my boys.  They didn’t want to hear the “girly” stories.  I explained to them that the stories were originally more grim.  I went to the library at work today and got a wonderful edition of the Grimm stories.  I have to admit I did not know how many stories the Brothers Grimm had penned.  In this edition (claiming to be the complete works, but I’m too early in my research to be able to verify that claim), there are 210 stories.  Little Red Riding Hood is called Little Red Cap.  Cinderella’s step-sisters get their eyes pecked out by the birds…vicious pigeons that had not helped clean and make dresses.  Snow White is Little Snow White and the story ends with the queen wearing burning iron “shoes” and dancing till she dies.  Good times.  Good times.

As Nick has quests for closure on Grimm, I have my own quests.  One quest is to develop my sons love of fiction, hence our focus on Grimm.  I also let them read Creepshow by Uncle Stevie.  It’s a comic book, yes a creepy comic book, and they loved it. My quest for a less cluttered home, my quest for grace and simplicity.  My quest for closure on past troublesome events.  I’m a regular Don Quixote.

My sons are still so carefree.  We were discussing something one day-can’t remember what and the details don’t matter-and the next morning on the way to school, I told them that it wasn’t a topic to discuss at school.  I asked my youngest if he heard what I had said and his reply was pure and honest.  “Mom, I don’t remember what we talked about last night so I know I won’t talk about it at school.”  They don’t hold onto things, grudges, hurt feelings, and all the gobbily-gook we learn to hang onto.  I am fascinated watching them as they grow up to learn when it happens.  When do we start to hold on to emotional responses and events?  My sons already hold on to physical stuff…sadly, they are pack-rats in training.  I do try to teach them that is okay to let go of stuff sooner rather than later because you don’t really need it.

I now gauge whether or not to keep things by wondering if my sons would look at it and ask why I saved it for so many years before tossing it in a trash bag without much fanfare when cleaning out my stuff. Again, forgive the morbidity.  Lord willing, I’ve got many more years to clean out my stuff, but I want to make each day as full as possible and you can’t do that when you’re worried about saving crap.  I had a period of time when I so was obsessed with capturing the memory that I missed making memories.  I’ve gotten better at being in the moment.  But I still have years of old crap to purge.

Some of the crap is mental crap.  And you, dear gentle reader, get to read as I purge some stuff from my brains.  Let things go out into the void of the internet to finally be released from my heart, soul, or brain, whichever it’s been stored in for too many years.  This has been a week of purging things from long ago.  I didn’t plan it that way, but it worked out that way.  And I am thankful to move forward in several of my quests.  It makes the load lighter and the lighter the load, the quicker I can move.  Though it’s not really about how quickly I get through this stuff.  The stuff is the little bits and pieces that make up life.  To quote the lullaby I sing to my sons, “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.  Take some time for life in between your plans.

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It was 1983 again

March 1, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

It was a surreal day because Doc Brown had come to my work with his flux capacitor and took me back to 1983.  My history teacher  from ninth grade was at the career fair today.  Of course now he is an administrator and hasn’t been in the classroom for years.  I was thrown back to the early 80s and the misery that was my life in ninth grade.

What an awful year it was.  The history class was the high point of each day.  It was an ancient civilizations course and was fun and challenging.  We studied Egypt and we went on a field trip to a natural history museum, though I don’t recall if it was in NYC or Philly.  It was a great way of escaping the stress of my life that year.  Looking back, there have been harder years, but that year still makes the top ten of hard years.

My parents had just separated and with it my whole concept of normal changed.  I think that is one of the hardest parts of divorce for children.  The normal they relied on disappears instantly and it never comes back.  The daily schedule changes-it’s now just Mom there (in most cases and specifically in my own).  While it may sound sexist and stereotypical, without the “Dad”, the house feels less safe.  This can create a new sense of fear and paranoia and for me it did.

And then suddenly it’s a big deal to see your father.  You become aware of this phrase “visitation rights” and the term “custody”.  I had never really paid attention to these words before.  Sure, I had probably heard them in a movie or television show, but because it wasn’t a part of my life, I didn’t make a connection to it.  Those words had no meaning until they directly impacted me.  Things were tense between my folks and my father became less than cheerful to be around.

My history teacher became the positive male role model in my life.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say father-figure, but I do wonder if I would have become really bitter toward men if I hadn’t been in that class.  He was nice and supportive.  I didn’t have that at home from my dad anymore so it was nice to have it come from somewhere.

School always came easily to me.  I was bright and I loved learning.  I still love learning though at times I don’t feel as bright as I did in my youth.  A year later, in tenth grade, I had become officially bored with school and was planning to drop out and take the GED instead of two more years of not being challenged.  But, in ninth grade I had a history class that was interesting and awesome.  This history teacher made it that way.

I loved learning hieroglyphics and about the culture.  The religious structure within the society, the burial rituals, the architecture and the many developments the Egyptians had made in their civilization were fascinating.  I began to get a solid sense of how old the world was and how short my life on earth would be.  This was the year when I came to understand my mortality.  Thus began my desire to contribute something of value to the world through my existence.

Many ideas of what I would contribute have come and gone with the years.  As some of them have faded, it has been an exercise in letting go of a dream, but still keeping it alive.  Dreams don’t have to die even if you aren’t pursuing them.  I searched though for some time to figure out what would be of value to others.  I had my own ideas, but many were not filled with truth or with the right purpose.  And then, boom, I figured it out.

And now I have to go tuck them into bed.

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Release adding to simplicity

February 29, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

Well, I feel better.  I don’t know about you, but last night’s post really offered me release.  I know people read it (thank you!) yet even if it had only gone into the great big void of the internet, it helped me.  I think that’s one of the things I enjoy about writing a post.  It can offer a cathartic release for the soul.  Not knowing exactly who will read each post, if in fact anyone does, blogging is a very selfish project.  At least the way I look at it.

Throughout the day, I felt stress leaving my body.  I reflected over the course of the day about the post and felt warmth filling my spirit which worked quite like a hot water bottle for the soul.  I missed Brigs just as much today as I did yesterday, but the emotional baggage I had attached to him is fading.  This is a good thing because then I can begin to enjoy the memories of him and the happiness he brought more purely, without the crap.

I have been asked by several people if we have gotten a new dog yet.  Nope.  I have looked at the listings at our local shelter.  Little yippee dogs-not for us-or pit bulls-also not for us.  You can list it as an American Staffordshire terrier but still a pit bull.  I know that the dog is usually a sweetie and only becomes mean through the treatment it receives from an owner, but you have to wonder why the dog is in the shelter.  I’ve also looked at other pet adoption websites and there are some sweet dogs listed on it, but crying while reading the websites tells me I am not ready.

But at least I am ready to begin letting go of the remnants of hard memories.  Letting go is a lifelong process in my book.  There are always events in a life that cause strife and then you have to deal with them.  Sometimes the way I deal with them is to bury them deep down so I don’t have to work through them right away.  Maybe I’m not ready to, maybe I’m being lazy, maybe I’m scared to process it all.  So every now and then I work through some big chunk of stuff in my memory.  It’s sort of like purging the crap out of my house.  Time often helps process the hard stuff just like it makes the stuff in my house magically become crap that I can get rid of without regret.

Simplicity in life can be hard to achieve within my society.  It can be done but it means going against the mainstream and ignoring mass media and aspects of the consumer-based society.  I fall into the trap of “needing” things that are truly wants.  Then there is either buyer’s remorse or the need to purge items from our home.  It’s challenging to teach this to my sons when I still am struggling with it myself.  Happily, they help me get better at it.  As I try to teach them about wants and needs, it reinforces it for myself.

And so Brigs keeps helping me, teaching me, loving me unconditionally.  Isn’t that the heart of what Uncle Stevie reminded me of a few weeks ago?

“May be she’ll learn something about what death really is, which is where the pain stops and the good memories begin. Not the end of life but the end of pain.”
― Stephen King, Pet Sematary

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Big yellow dog

February 28, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

If you had asked me two weeks ago how much I would miss my dog, I would have said a lot.  Ask me today and I cannot express how much I miss Brigs, though I’m apparently going to try in this post.  This house feels so very empty without that big yellow dog.  I think I was trying to fool myself that it wouldn’t be that hard because he hadn’t been upstairs for a year.  But even being downstairs, his presence was felt everywhere.  I still see him sprawled out on the family room floor.  I still hear his his metal collar clanging with his dog tags.  I still hear him.  And I have wept like a big ol’ baby, huge wailing sobs.  Not around my sons since I think it would scare them, it’s startled me a few times.

Brigadoon carried a lot of weight.  And I don’t just mean on his body.  I had a lot of emotional history attached to him.  I got Brigs while married to my ex-husband.  It was toward the end of the marriage, I just didn’t know how close to the end when we went to pick him out.  The puppy was next in a series of steps-married? Check.  House?  Check.  Yellow lab?  Check.  My ex even had the name Brigs picked out before we found a breeder.  Had to be a yellow lab and had to be a male.  I had no choice in the type of dog.  This had all been decided by my ex before we were even married, before dating for that matter.  He had set a goal at some point of having a male yellow lab when he was married and had a house.  I did get to participate in selecting the dog and we picked Brigs.

Brigs was positively adorable as a puppy.  Very sweet, very even-tempered.  I got a bunch of books and worked with him every day to train him.  This was not supported and I had an uphill battle ahead of me.  There were a lot of things that happened after we got the dog that shined a light on the major problems we were having.  Until it was more than just us, I hadn’t seen them.  The breaking point happened when I came home one day to find Brigs soaking wet in his crate and my ex watching television with a scowl on his face.  It seems that Brigs played in some puddles in the backyard (water dog) and got muddy.  My ex tried to rinse him off with the hose which the puppy interpreted as play.  My ex lost his temper with Brigs, hit him with the hose, and eventually stuck him in the crate.  The look on Brigs’ face when I had gotten home was so sad.   An argument between the ex and I then happened.

On so many levels I owed this dog so much.  My ex and I had been discussing children by this point and seeing the reaction about a muddy dog made me wonder what type of reaction would happen about a muddy kid, which even then I knew was bound to be a regular occurrence.  The inability of us to calmly discuss matters about the dog made me wonder how we would ever come to mutual decisions about children.  It couldn’t always be his way.  My voice, my opinion, didn’t matter.  While he may have intended some things to seem like compromises, it felt more like ultimatums.

The experiences with this little puppy made me re-examine my marriage and where we were and if we were actually trying to travel a path together.  The reflection brought forth the answer that we were not sharing similar visions except on a superficial level.  There were other factors, but they don’t need to be explored in such a format as this.  The point is that this dear sweet dog gave me the courage to accept that this marriage was not healthy and that changes had to be made.  The changes I suggested were refused so I accepted that it was over.

As we began the messy, ugly chore of separating our belongings, several items became bones of contention.  My Highlander sword.  That practice of ultimatums came out again.  I could have my Highlander sword OR the rest of the weapons I had collected.  I couldn’t afford to start over in my collection and so the crowning jewel of it was sacrificed.  It went this way for many items.  I let many things go by keeping my eye on the big picture.  But when it came to the pets, they all came with me.  The cats and hamster were mine in the sense that I brought them to the marriage.  The dog was technically ours, but I stated I was taking Brigs.  As he challenged me on this, I simply reminded him of the rainy day episode and said the dog comes with me.  My ex agreed.

I walked out of the marriage with basically what I walked into it with, but with a lot of debt added in because of stupid choices I agreed to over the two and a half years we were married.  I walked out without some of my optimism and that took a long time to reacquire.  Brigs helped with that because he was always just so damn happy.  His tail was always wagging and he seemed to smile when I came home to our tiny apartment.  It was a bear to find an apartment in my teeny budget that allowed dogs his size.  I only got into the place I did because I had the crate.

Brigs loved his crate!  He would go into his crate when he wanted a nap and close the gate behind him.  It was his way of saying “do not disturb”.  When he was done having his “me time”, out of the crate he’d come, tail wagging.  During those behind-closed-gate naps he would snore like nothing you’ve heard before.  Lips flapping, whole body wiggling at times, chasing bunnies with his feet running in air.  Brigadoon’s happiness and optimism helped me as I moved forward.

I also lost a lot of trust as that marriage ended.  I questioned motives, I looked for the “catch” from what people offered.  Brigs loved unconditionally and with total trust.  He helped me relearn trust.  He taught me so much about unconditional love.

But, being a human, I still had emotional memories attached to Brigs.  He represented so much about changing my life.  His existence in my life made my marriage today possible.  He helped make being a mommy possible.  And then to top it all off, even though he was four when our first son was born, he adapted to a baby so quickly.  Brigs loved having brothers!  He would position himself in front of the nursery door when I put one of the boys in for a nap.  He would guard the door!  He was protecting them.

He protected me.  Always being happy to see me protected me from becoming cynical.

As he got older, and I started thinking about the fact that he would not actually live forever, I wondered how I would feel when Brigs was gone.  I had no idea how many memories would wake up.  I had no idea how much release would come-a feeling that that marriage was really over.  Done.  Dead and buried.  Brigs was supposed to mark the beginning of that family and instead he marked the end.  And he went on to add so much to this family-to my hubby’s life, our sons’ lives, my life.

Oh, I miss that big yellow dog.

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Welcome to the fungi

February 27, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

Yep, ringworm.  The boo boo on my youngest son’s forehead is ringworm.  Yuck.  I kissed a fungus. I won’t even eat mushrooms!   The nurse’s office called me this morning.  She heard the concern in my voice and instantly calmed me by saying it was nothing serious, both boys are fine, except did I know the first grader had ringworm?  She seemed somewhat impressed that he reported I had been putting an antibiotic on it.  Pretty good for a six-year-old who typically only half listens to me.  So I took a wee break at work and got the anti-fungal cream and some hypo-allergenic band-aids.  I had put a band-aid on his little forehead the other day and he broke out where the adhesive had been.  I hope this band-aid is gentler on his little fungal infected skin.

I’ve been asking him for about a week how he got the almost perfectly round boo boo.  He stuck to his story that he and some friends were banging their heads against each other during recess.  Yes, I’m sure we could discuss that past-time for hours, but stick to the fungus.  I didn’t believe a perfect little round circle could be formed from banging heads.  Objects in the house began to stick out.  “Did you stick a Nerf dart to your forehead?”  No was the reply.  “Did you wet a marker cap and then stick it on your forehead creating suction and then pop it off to hear the noise?”  Nope he replied.  His older brother offered up the possibility of sticking a popper on his forehead, but that theory was rejected as well.  I really thought it was the Nerf dart.  Same size as the circle, a perfect match.  Alas, it was not a Nerf dart.

Where did he pick this up, I wondered.  The nurse offered up some possibilities.  Dirt.  Well, there’s the most likely answer.  With this wonderfully mild winter the boys have played outside almost every day, including digging  in the back yard and playing in the “lake” otherwise known as the kiddie pool.  They create exciting and mysterious environments in that.  They then rescue dinosaurs and Ian Malcolm from it. Who knows what is living in there.

The worst part of this whole affair?  The creepy itchy feeling I have had all day since 9:25am when the nurse called.  Uber heebie-jeebies.  The world’s most sustainable traveling itch.  And I kissed it!  I feel like Lucy when she kissed Snoopy.   The pharmacist said there was little to no issue with the fact that I kissed this particular fungus.  I will try not to obsess about it otherwise my mouth will start to itch too.  Obviously, this is not the worst part of it…my sweet little baby being attacked by a fungus is the worst part, but it’s still pretty bad.  This will not mark the end of kissing boo boos, but yech…I kissed it.

This will also not mark the end of fungal infections for my sons.  Oh, no, this is simply the beginning.  Yuck.

 

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Oscar, Oscar, Oscar

February 26, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

Billy was back and I really did enjoy him.  But before I get too far into the post, what was with the tinny feedback on seemingly every microphone?  Or was it just me?

Was that Sheila E. working the percussion in the band?

Why and when did they switch the order of the awards?

Yes, I’m happy for Christopher, but damn, Kenneth got dissed every single time.

I love that so many people kept their speeches really brief.  I loved Billy’s opening number.  I laughed my ass off at the “focus group” for The Wizard of Oz.  Thank you, Catherine O’Hara for saying to millions what I have been saying for years.  Glinda’s got a wee bit of wicked in her for not telling Dorothy earlier about clicking those heels together.

Billy Crystal made it feel like it was a ten or fifteen years ago.  What a difference compared to how I used to watch the Oscars.  With a party, pools on who would win, and I would actually have seen the movies that were nominated.  Now I was just glad the boys were practically ready for bed when it started.

I wonder if I will one day reconnect with the Oscars as I did in the past.  The one nominated movie I saw this year was The Muppets.  Tells you where I am in life.  Now I catch movies on demand as I am able.  Sadly, I still think movies from the 1990s are recent.  The other night I was enjoying my good friend Keyser Soze and noticed the year it was made.  1995?  Really, 1995?  When I realized The Usual Suspects is as old as it is, I realized I need to get some new lines to quote.  How did time fly away and the movies with it?

Perhaps one day I’ll re-embrace my desire to go to a large dark room filled with strangers and watch movies.  I do love the movie theater experience, but there are so many other things to do.  But as my sons get older, they too will embrace the experience.  Won’t that be fun.  As you wish.

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Did this go to fb?

February 25, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

I have been trying to reconnect my blog to my fb page.  Ever since I switched to that silly timeline set up it hasn’t worked and I’ve had to manually post my posts.  I have tried again to reconnect them.  Did it work?

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Importance of Literature

February 25, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

My oldest son and I were watching last night’s episode of Grimm on demand today.  He asked a lot of questions.  Many of these questions would not have been asked if he was older and more well read.  He’s rather well read when it comes to non-fiction, but the classics, like Grimm, have not stuck to his schema.

I wonder if it is simply lack of repetition or if it is because of his preference for non-fiction?  I have loved Grimm and the like since I was a little girl.  I suppose I figured everyone did or that my sons would at least inherit it.  My youngest son certainly embraces the macabre as I do, but will the Grimm stories and other dark literary classics stay with him his whole life?  Will my oldest connect with them over time?  I enjoy wondering about these things, even knowing that these answers won’t come until they are “all grown up”.  That’s a long time from now.

It also has to happen naturally because you can’t make a kid like anything they don’t want to like.  I’ll see if I can find some graphic novels of Grimm stories.  The boys loved the Beowolf graphic novel.  October is always Poe month, maybe we can make March Grimm month.  In theory, it’s still supposed to be a grim and bleak winter month.  Again, in theory.

He did enjoy the episode.  Perhaps he will like revisiting the stories.

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Elephant White

February 23, 2012 by pinkpigrulz

I caught an interesting movie this evening. Well, I caught part of it. It’s called Elephant White and it’s got your favorite and mine Kevin Bacon in it. It is about the sex/slave trade in Thailand. The aspect of spiritualism is incorporated into the plot which I found interesting. While I have very little knowledge on the sex trade industry in Thailand, I do know that part of it is rooted in religion-a misinterpretation of it, but if you think of uneducated masses being manipulated for generations, it probably seems reasonable. If you like Kevin Bacon and want to see a good but troubling movie, give it a watch. But not with little ones around. It’s rated R for a reason.

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