blogger? Maybe… not sure.

Reading groovy stuff at Whiskey in My Sippy Cup (and yes, normally I’d link, but I’m a lazy ass right now).  She’s teaching things that we SHOULD know but don’t.  Going to explore more, but right now I need to get my ass in bed.  And yes, that’s me using “ass” twice…  Nice.

So, this leads me to comment:  Do I consider myself a blogger?  Well.  Yeah.  I haven’t been doing it a long time, but I have been consistent since 2006.  (Wait!  But it says I’ve only been on here since 2008.  Yes, but I started blogging on *cough* freaking Myspace and when I shut down that ridiculous profile, I lost it all – **weeping copiously**)

Here’s the thing.  I’m only mildly technically proficient on this blogging thing.  I’m really more about the writing and hideously lazy about the tech/backdoor stuff.

And no, I don’t mean that in the snooty “Oh la!  I’M all about the writing!” tone.  No, what I mean is that this is the medium that finally broke through for me.  I have absolutely sucked at getting my ass in gear and writing.  I deeply desire to write science/speculative fiction, however (sadly), I suck at writing fiction.  I’m a kick-ass reader, but writing?

not. so. much.

Thanks.

Anyway, I was wondering…  Does this mean I’m not truly a blogger?  I’m only marginally a writer – you know, a fiction created in my own mind.  If I’m not a blogger too?  Well.  Then I’m screwed.

I do love Whiskey for teaching us though.  In case I haven’t said it enough, she is amazing and awesome.  So click my link – the one over there on the right hand side (cuz yes, I’m lazy).  Read her and learn from her.

Maybe I’ll be a true blogger yet.

signing off with a smile,
moonfire

feeling tired and old

Todd and I went out last night.  We had overnight babysitting, compliments of my SIL and BIL.  So we dropped off the kids, got cleaned up, went our for a nice dinner and ended up at a late night comedy club.  Dinner was lovely, the comedy had highs and lows, and we enjoyed our child-free evening.

But we got home about 1am.  I could not sleep in.  So here I am, tired as hell.

Went to a fun baby shower today.  My friend (and you know who you are!) looks fantastic.  She goes in for her c-section next Thursday and I have to be honest… I’m DYING for someone to call and tell me if it’s a boy or a girl.

My curiosity and need to know are in dreadful overdrive.  AUGH!

I had fun buying little teeny baby things though.  As I was driving over to the shower, it hit me that this may be one of the last baby showers I attend.  My sister may have children, but if she does, she lives a long way away.  I’m trying to picture her at a baby shower and mostly not really succeeding.

All my other friends either have grown children, older children still at home, or aren’t having kids.  I’m at that age now where other things are happening.

And I suppose that leads me to this week.  It has been a week of sadness.  Two friends had losses – one that was timely and a blessing, one that was a horrible tragedy.  Another friend has just found out that she will lose her father within a very short time (less than 3 months, at best).  My heart breaks for them all.  I know this is the stage of life I’m entering – the one where it is less about new lives entering and more about lives leaving.  I keep telling myself to accept it, to be ready.  But I’m not.

I’m still too close to the baby stage, I suppose.  There is something so joyous about a new baby joining a family.  I doubt I’ll ever stop being amazed about it.

I have never been very good at dealing with death and grief.  I never know how to let someone know that I share in their pain, even from my distant perspective.  I want to offer some sort of solace or words that let them know that I honor their grief, but it never feels like it’s enough or appropriate or …  well, just what is needed.

In a strange way, though, I don’t fear my own mortality.  My expectation or hope for death is that it will bring peace.  I can’t know for sure what it is, so that is what I think about.  I hope I’ll live long enough to be with my children through their young years and I hope to some day see my grandchildren, but all other hopes are just the noise of living (career, education, experience).   I’d like to one day be with my entire family around me and know that it was a good life.  That’s enough.

Instead, I fear the loss of those around me – the people that I care for and want to protect.  I just don’t understand how we’re supposed to deal with it.  I worked for a woman whose son died when he was four.  I’ve tried to wrap my head around that one… time couldn’t heal that wound.  It would remain raw and painful, forever.

I think about my friend who is facing the loss of her father.  I think about the man I know who just lost his mother at the beginning of the month… the woman who lost her daughter last November.  How do we make the most of the minutes we have with the people we love?

And how do we enjoy and celebrate the moments we shared together, even as we mourn the emptiness their loss leaves in our lives?

For today, I enjoyed the company of the women who gathered to share in the joy of the new baby.  We laughed.  We told stories from our own experiences.  I even leaned in to say hello to this little person who will have a wonderful family waiting for him/her (augh).

Little person?  It is a strange, wonderful, interesting, and sometimes scary world you are coming to.  I wish you many blessings.

cheers,
moonfire

lost in space

I had those good intentions from this morning – the ones where I was going to get laundry and housework done.  Instead, I worked on the financial stuff, transitioning more accounts over to our new checking and trying to figure out exactly how the patchwork of our budget was going to work.  It was dismal work and it was compounded by the confusion going on with our landlord and how we’re going to make our rent payments (not the ability to pay, but the “how” of it – mailing payments… not able to set it up as an ACH on a date that is suitable, all that crap).  I think that people who earn a certain amount, like those who earn more in one paycheck than they need to pay their largest bill, don’t understand what it’s like when your paychecks are pathetically small and it’s necessary to take from multiple checks in order to meet obligations.  Perhaps they’ve forgotten what it can be like when you have to carefully time everything so your obligations are met.

I don’t know.

Regardless of the confusion, I think we’ve got it worked out now.  At least, I think we do.  I’m hopeful.

This leads me to that issue that has been preying on us since Brennan was born (over 7 years, sigh).  There is all the commentary about how you have to start saving for your children’s college right from the time they are born.  I have bad news for those “experts.”  If your income isn’t high enough, it doesn’t matter if you save the entire time, you will not have a significant amount to put towards your child’s education.  If you’re lucky, you’ll save enough to help with that first semester, maybe even the first year.  Kids are expensive and those expenses eat up income.

If there is some kind of thought that perhaps parents will be in a different stage of life when their children head off to college, then yes that would be correct too.  We’ll be juggling trying to save something (anything) for retirement, right as our children head off to school.  The federal government, in its infinite wisdom, will look at our income at that time and determine that we are able to afford a certain amount towards our children’s costs.  This amount will NOT take into account our ages or the fact that without us putting money into retirement we will be working until we’ve turned into dust.

The calculation doesn’t (nor can it) take into account that the majority of our children’s young lives have been spent earning incredibly palty sums that haven’t quite managed to cover all of our living expenses each month.

Todd and I talked about it and (if I’ve already blogged this, I apologize – we can put it down to early dementia) we’ve decided that we’ll get through our degrees first, then, when our incomes are more than they are now – which they will be, if for no other reason than Todd will be working full time in comparison to now – we will put what money we can towards activities, etc., that help our kids with scholarship eligibility.

And yes, I’ve probably brought this up in my blog before because it feels like a familiar bit I’ve written, but there’s more to it.

Here’s what I hope we help our children learn before they head off into the adult world to fend for themselves (mostly – since we’ll be out here as a bolt-hole when times are crappy, much like our family has been for us):  I hope that I help them to value getting that education early and making the most of it when they do.  I hope I help them to value saving for a rainy day, because those days usually hit, one after another after another, and we are rarely prepared for how bad they are.  I hope we help them to think of the future, even as they pursue their hopes and dreams.  I hope we help them find balance between caution and preparation and knowing when to take a chance, dancing with a bit of risk.

In the end, though, I know they will make their own ways in the world.  We’ll do our best, kiss the boo boos, help them dust themselves off and get back on their feet.  We’ll love them and do what we can to let them be true and authentic to themselves.

The rest?  Well.  I just don’t know.  Do we ever really stop learning new lessons?  No.  And I’m certain they will find the same in their own adult lives.

signing off for now – one thoughtful and slightly pensive moonfire – caught in between…

One of those weeks…

It has been a busy, busy week.  And sadly, I didn’t get enough accomplished for my class.  This means today and tomorrow will be a big push to get research reading and thread postings done.  On top of that, I’ve got a vicious looking pile of laundry, serious clutter and bathrooms that need to be scrubbed.  I need to do a variety of things and all I want to do is sit and cuddle with my little guy.

But that’s not how it’s going to be for today.

Oh yeah.  We have an overnight babysitter for tonight too.  Todd and I are going downtown to listen to some friends play.  Under normal circumstances, I might be more thrilled.  I guess it’s the thought of staying up late that doesn’t sound appealing.  Add to that noise, crowd, and possibly smoke?  Not appealing.

In trying to think positively I’ve constructed these theories about tonight – it’ll be a non-smoking venue, it won’t be too crowded, and we’ll get to see some old friends.  I’m trying to work off that theory.  We’ll see how it goes.

I have more that I’d like to write about, but I need to keep up some kind of momentum.  If I stop, it’ll be a disaster.  I don’t need a disaster at this point.  I need a miracle.

What would it be like to not have to worry about squishing in all the housework and financial coordination into my crowded schedule?  What if I didn’t have to spend each weekend cramming in all the things that the work week pushed aside?

I know.  Don’t go down that road.

But once in a while it comes up again.

Time to put on some energetic and motivating music.  I think we’ll get a bit done, then the short guy and I will head over to get a few things we need for my cleaning and organizing project.  Somehow, school work will be squished into that mix.  I just know that I’ll feel more satisfied if the house isn’t messy and the laundry doesn’t look like the Blob.

cheers on this mildly stressful Saturday,
moonfire

A tired post

If you’re not a woman, you won’t get this…

I’m close to ovulating and I feel like I’ve been punched in the side.  By a mean short person.  With a grudge.

I felt it coming on today and knew immediately what was up.  Hard to explain to those around you that you’re being spacey and weird because a part of your physical system is putting you through misery.  So many times I’ve wondered why I didn’t have my doctor get rid of those damned ovaries when she was in there doing all the rest of the work.  Stupid ovarian cysts show up several times a year.  It’s enough to make a woman feel pissy and testy.

Got a bunch of laundry done tonight, with my almost-three year old *helping*.  It was nice to have the company while Bren was reading, though.  I did have to explain that the “white thing” he was holding was a dirty sock and it needed to go back into the pile.  Then he proceeded to march back and forth asking if this bit or that bit was “Bren’s”, “Dada’s”, or “Mom’s”.

I was really did try to get him to actually sort things.  I figure if he’s going to tromp around in a laundry pile, I might as well put him to work.

Yeah.

Apparently that’s not as fun as hauling it around the upstairs…  go figure.

Bren used to love the laundry sorting “game.”  I miss those days.

This reminds me of a time when my mum took us shopping at a mall one time.  A store was having a “Giant Panty” Sale.  And lo, they had a pair of GIANT panties hanging up over the sign.  We had a long bout of snickering going on over that one.  But what flickers through my mind now is how it’d be hard for a store to pull that off in this day and age.  Someone, somewhere would be offended.

Well, Todd’s home from class.  I’m going to say hello and crash.  Too tired and these ovaries are making me insane.

cheers,
moonfire