![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Mar. 8th, 2008 02:42 amI went in a gas station today, and I picked out a couple of snacks and paid for my gas and told the man behind the counter, I don't need a bag. I'm going to be opening those right away. He said, it's ok. I said, no really. It's alright. He gave me a patronizing look and gesture and said, in a pat-me-on-the-head-tone, Don't worry about it, popped the snacks in, and held the bag out. I'm not worried, I replied. I just don't like wasting bags. He glared at me and gave me the option of pulling my stuff out myself if I wanted to. So I did. So he slammed the cash register shut as I walked out wondering if I had really been offensive.
I mostly forgot about him, with our gas and snacks and trip to Michael's. I FINALLY found black paint that's washable - I've been looking forever and Annie almost never has black because it's too risky - so that was good. We got the tracing paper and the roll of newsprint (sort of) that we were looking for, and some shockingly cheap cashmere yarn I'll knit Aaron something he can appreciate with. I found some great blank cards with envelopes and journals and Easter basket stuffers, all in the dollar bins. The traffic wasn't bad coming back from Kendall, either, and the conversations with my children were good, and all that jazz. Elise has to be a part of it now, piping up "Mamama!" or blowing raspberries periodically until I acknowledge her by name.
Publix was cool, the shopping was quick. I'm used to stares and questions, after all I don't see anyone else with a baby tied on their back, pushing a truck cart with two small people in it, with two medium people walking alongside. How much does she weigh, doesn't that hurt, where did you buy that thing, ARE THEY ALL YOURS - there is always someone who stops us and makes a big show of counting as if it's really such a crowd that you can't get an accurate count with it in motion. It's five, not twenty five, I sometimes want to say. They're mine, yes, aren't they beautiful? Stop looking as though I'm either insane or some sort of victim.
Then the bag thing happened again. I was so happy that we FINALLY remembered to bring our reusable shopping totes not just with us to the store in the van, but INSIDE the store, AND to put them up on the conveyor before our stuff so that they'd get used. We've been awful about it, every single time we get home from food shopping I think, d'oh! I forgot AGAIN! Because I'm managing the kids and the long list, and we spend an hour in there. But this time I remembered, and it was just a little victory but what is up with the cashier acting all confused by them? They sell the totes right next to his cash register. Am I really the only person who's ever bought one and then brought it back to use again? I doubt it somehow. The bagger rolled his eyes in a big exaggerated way, SIGHED long and low, and then started in filling them up after sharing a glance with the cashier.
I can understand not being willing to give up using a lot of plastic bags. It's ingrained in our culture, it's convenient and familiar, they're cheap to manufacture and purchase and hey, you might even feel good that you reuse or recycle them to lessen the impact. But why in the world would people be irritated or angry by other people trying to cut back? Is it more "silly" for me to be switching, since I buy $200+ in groceries every week so I'm bringing a pile of the bags? I feel like it's that much more necessary for me since we use sooooo many bags. What is this disdain for environmental awareness that people have? I could understand if I acted self-righteous about it, like shouting over the bagger's head "*I* am using reuseable bags only, sir, don't you sully my cart with your earth poison!" but I'm not. Really I'm not.
Grant Sr and Robbie got back tonight from a two week vacation, and it's a strange dichotomy...on the one hand, we've never felt so close to and comfortable with them before. Tensions are just gone, everybody talks a lot, it's fine. Sr brought souvenirs for all the kids, and Isaac ran to him with arms out, yelling with excitement. On the other hand, we've just had our first taste in awhile of having the place to ourselves, after a month or more of browsing houses we could buy. So all these things that are normally very normal for us - like not walking around the house naked to go find something in the laundry room, and not leaving the dryer with clothes in it so that others can use it - they aren't assumed as they were before. They're a burden, now. We got spoiled on less people to constantly consider in everything and now it seems like a burden. Even though that's somewhat ridiculous as Grant Sr and Robbie are only in the house and conscious for a maximum of, what...3 hours per day? Most of it spent on the back porch or in their bedroom and bath.
Coincidentally their being gone coincided with Grant getting his new full time job with 12 hour shifts, while of course keeping the part time job, and so I got used to him being gone all the time in an environment of it being "just us", as in, if you are totally burned out it's ok to leave the dishes for the morning this time, or don't worry about the racket the boys are making playing at 10 pm so long as it's keeping them happy and allows me to sit and read to Annie while I get Elise to sleep. I'm not even sure exactly why or if it makes sense, but somehow house sharing with G out of the picture so much seems suddenly overwhelming, like I can maybe swing these work hours the other way, but like this? I just don't know. And tomorrow, the first day of them being back and a 12 hour shift day (plus hour commute!) they're home all day long. Since it's Saturday. Which should be fine, because it's not like they're our enemies! But I didn't think they'd be back yet so I'm trying to think what I bought that would feed them, too, for dinner, and I'm annoyed about having to get my clothes ready before bed (I don't have a closet in our room, it's a weird set up), and I'm leaving a note for Grant to make sure he gets the diapers out of the laundry before he leaves for work, and already the phone is ringing off the hook with the line always tied up from Robbie's little girlfriend and I can't take a shower because I only feel safe doing that with the bathroom door open and Ananda and Aaron hanging out with Elise in the hallway, and...
It really doesn't make any sense to be aware of these things this way. We've lived in this situation very well and contentedly for over five years now. How can I still feel self-conscious on some level as if I'm mothering on some stage, with them around? After all this time? And how can I possibly feel any EXTRA obligation and guilt about the mess, than I already have been without them around? It's not as if they don't know what they're coming back to. Or I don't clean like crazy every day. Bah.
I'm ready for a change. Really ready. It's seemed like the best possible arrangement to have the added security and the steady home, for the kids, and the yards and neighborhood we couldn't have afforded ourselves before, and I don't have any regrets. But we've grown past it I think on several levels. And I'm not sure if it will be us staying here with them moving out, or us moving out with Sr selling this house and going to another city - we're still talking about it. But I think it will be soon. This year, anyway.
I have a little pen drawing on my desk of a big capital double letter E, sitting on a pier, fishing...the fishing line is down into the water and about to catch a big double letter C, that's down there with it. This is Grant's visualization of "E fishin C". Efficiency. Seriously. My favorite part might be that the E has a cooler and a tackle box.
All of a sudden it seems like what I want most in the whole world is to go lay down with him and snuggle up warm under the covers, and have him squeeze me and make happy sounds even in his sleep. How awesome, to be able to go achieve what I want most in the world at this moment.
Also - we're having a surprise cold front. Probably the last one this year. I'm psyched. The high for Saturday is only 71 and then the low at night, 49, with a Sunday high also of 71. It makes me happy when we're still getting some relief in March.
The two OPI nail polish colors I bought at Ulta the other day are both awful - one so bright red it's more orangey-pink, and the other so black it's more mud than red. But I found that if I do one coat of each right on top of each other, it's fabulous. Totally what I was going for. And I get to feel all ingenius about it this way.
My diastasis is getting noticeably worse in kind of a sudden, striking way. I don't get it. I think I might email Janet Tupply (the maker of the program and splint I bought, who cooresponds with customers) directly about the whole deal.
I mostly forgot about him, with our gas and snacks and trip to Michael's. I FINALLY found black paint that's washable - I've been looking forever and Annie almost never has black because it's too risky - so that was good. We got the tracing paper and the roll of newsprint (sort of) that we were looking for, and some shockingly cheap cashmere yarn I'll knit Aaron something he can appreciate with. I found some great blank cards with envelopes and journals and Easter basket stuffers, all in the dollar bins. The traffic wasn't bad coming back from Kendall, either, and the conversations with my children were good, and all that jazz. Elise has to be a part of it now, piping up "Mamama!" or blowing raspberries periodically until I acknowledge her by name.
Publix was cool, the shopping was quick. I'm used to stares and questions, after all I don't see anyone else with a baby tied on their back, pushing a truck cart with two small people in it, with two medium people walking alongside. How much does she weigh, doesn't that hurt, where did you buy that thing, ARE THEY ALL YOURS - there is always someone who stops us and makes a big show of counting as if it's really such a crowd that you can't get an accurate count with it in motion. It's five, not twenty five, I sometimes want to say. They're mine, yes, aren't they beautiful? Stop looking as though I'm either insane or some sort of victim.
Then the bag thing happened again. I was so happy that we FINALLY remembered to bring our reusable shopping totes not just with us to the store in the van, but INSIDE the store, AND to put them up on the conveyor before our stuff so that they'd get used. We've been awful about it, every single time we get home from food shopping I think, d'oh! I forgot AGAIN! Because I'm managing the kids and the long list, and we spend an hour in there. But this time I remembered, and it was just a little victory but what is up with the cashier acting all confused by them? They sell the totes right next to his cash register. Am I really the only person who's ever bought one and then brought it back to use again? I doubt it somehow. The bagger rolled his eyes in a big exaggerated way, SIGHED long and low, and then started in filling them up after sharing a glance with the cashier.
I can understand not being willing to give up using a lot of plastic bags. It's ingrained in our culture, it's convenient and familiar, they're cheap to manufacture and purchase and hey, you might even feel good that you reuse or recycle them to lessen the impact. But why in the world would people be irritated or angry by other people trying to cut back? Is it more "silly" for me to be switching, since I buy $200+ in groceries every week so I'm bringing a pile of the bags? I feel like it's that much more necessary for me since we use sooooo many bags. What is this disdain for environmental awareness that people have? I could understand if I acted self-righteous about it, like shouting over the bagger's head "*I* am using reuseable bags only, sir, don't you sully my cart with your earth poison!" but I'm not. Really I'm not.
Grant Sr and Robbie got back tonight from a two week vacation, and it's a strange dichotomy...on the one hand, we've never felt so close to and comfortable with them before. Tensions are just gone, everybody talks a lot, it's fine. Sr brought souvenirs for all the kids, and Isaac ran to him with arms out, yelling with excitement. On the other hand, we've just had our first taste in awhile of having the place to ourselves, after a month or more of browsing houses we could buy. So all these things that are normally very normal for us - like not walking around the house naked to go find something in the laundry room, and not leaving the dryer with clothes in it so that others can use it - they aren't assumed as they were before. They're a burden, now. We got spoiled on less people to constantly consider in everything and now it seems like a burden. Even though that's somewhat ridiculous as Grant Sr and Robbie are only in the house and conscious for a maximum of, what...3 hours per day? Most of it spent on the back porch or in their bedroom and bath.
Coincidentally their being gone coincided with Grant getting his new full time job with 12 hour shifts, while of course keeping the part time job, and so I got used to him being gone all the time in an environment of it being "just us", as in, if you are totally burned out it's ok to leave the dishes for the morning this time, or don't worry about the racket the boys are making playing at 10 pm so long as it's keeping them happy and allows me to sit and read to Annie while I get Elise to sleep. I'm not even sure exactly why or if it makes sense, but somehow house sharing with G out of the picture so much seems suddenly overwhelming, like I can maybe swing these work hours the other way, but like this? I just don't know. And tomorrow, the first day of them being back and a 12 hour shift day (plus hour commute!) they're home all day long. Since it's Saturday. Which should be fine, because it's not like they're our enemies! But I didn't think they'd be back yet so I'm trying to think what I bought that would feed them, too, for dinner, and I'm annoyed about having to get my clothes ready before bed (I don't have a closet in our room, it's a weird set up), and I'm leaving a note for Grant to make sure he gets the diapers out of the laundry before he leaves for work, and already the phone is ringing off the hook with the line always tied up from Robbie's little girlfriend and I can't take a shower because I only feel safe doing that with the bathroom door open and Ananda and Aaron hanging out with Elise in the hallway, and...
It really doesn't make any sense to be aware of these things this way. We've lived in this situation very well and contentedly for over five years now. How can I still feel self-conscious on some level as if I'm mothering on some stage, with them around? After all this time? And how can I possibly feel any EXTRA obligation and guilt about the mess, than I already have been without them around? It's not as if they don't know what they're coming back to. Or I don't clean like crazy every day. Bah.
I'm ready for a change. Really ready. It's seemed like the best possible arrangement to have the added security and the steady home, for the kids, and the yards and neighborhood we couldn't have afforded ourselves before, and I don't have any regrets. But we've grown past it I think on several levels. And I'm not sure if it will be us staying here with them moving out, or us moving out with Sr selling this house and going to another city - we're still talking about it. But I think it will be soon. This year, anyway.
I have a little pen drawing on my desk of a big capital double letter E, sitting on a pier, fishing...the fishing line is down into the water and about to catch a big double letter C, that's down there with it. This is Grant's visualization of "E fishin C". Efficiency. Seriously. My favorite part might be that the E has a cooler and a tackle box.
All of a sudden it seems like what I want most in the whole world is to go lay down with him and snuggle up warm under the covers, and have him squeeze me and make happy sounds even in his sleep. How awesome, to be able to go achieve what I want most in the world at this moment.
Also - we're having a surprise cold front. Probably the last one this year. I'm psyched. The high for Saturday is only 71 and then the low at night, 49, with a Sunday high also of 71. It makes me happy when we're still getting some relief in March.
The two OPI nail polish colors I bought at Ulta the other day are both awful - one so bright red it's more orangey-pink, and the other so black it's more mud than red. But I found that if I do one coat of each right on top of each other, it's fabulous. Totally what I was going for. And I get to feel all ingenius about it this way.
My diastasis is getting noticeably worse in kind of a sudden, striking way. I don't get it. I think I might email Janet Tupply (the maker of the program and splint I bought, who cooresponds with customers) directly about the whole deal.
