And I didn’t even get kissed.
Archive for June, 2010
“I’m your Prince Charming”
(she thought to her self: But what if I kiss you and you turn into a frog?)
I have a right to be irritated when it’s justified and well earned. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone if I don’t want to. And I don’t. I just want to be irritated, let it run it’s course, and move on.
I don’t want to be mis-read or mis-led. I strive for transparency in they things I do and the ways I behave. I expect that from others and am often disappointed when it’s not reciprocated.
I’m probably too demanding. Too uptight. Too analytical. Definately too sensitive.
I’m a woman. Not a game.
Imagine yourself on a playground merry-go-round. Not the fancy amusement park types with horses & sleighs but the average galvanized steel man powered type. The stronger the kid that’s pushing, the faster you all go around. When your the little kid, you sit at the base of a guard rail and wrap your arms and legs around just to keep yourself from being flung off. Your ok. As long as you can hold on, you’re ok. Your view of the playground is this fantastic blur of colors blending together like a water color painting that’s been rained on and has smeared. You can hear the sounds all around you but can’t place them with their makers. There’s no way you’re going to try and do something stupid like stand up or jump off of the merry-go-round as it spins. Hold on. Just hold on. Faster, faster, faster, faster. Hold on, just hold on.
After a while, the stronger kid stops pushing and walks away. The merry-go-round begins to slow down. You are able to start focusing on the faces and voices that before ran together. You try and bring yourself to your feet as the ride slows even further. Your legs are wobbly as you finally dare to jump off. You’re dizzy. You’re balance hasn’t returned and you’re afraid that at any moment you’ll fall and eat some serious pavement.
My merry-go-round has slowed down. I can finally begin to focus on all the things around me that need my attention. But my legs are wobbly and I’m scared to jump.
I am thankful that life is returning to a normal pace and the routines that I once found so normal, dull and boring, are blissfully once again normal. Boring. Dull. I’m ready to be bored. But with this slower pace, I feel like my emotions inside haven’t realized the ride is over and they continue to spin.
I’m not sleeping very well. Part of that has been self-induced. It’s so easy to stay up till midnight or 1:00 a.m. puttering around the house sorting through bags and boxes that are begging for my attention. Bookshelves and bar stools sit in their boxes waiting to be put together. Photo albums are stacked against a wall, at the bottom of a to-do list of things to be cleaned and re-organized.
I’ve tried to make a concerted effort to be in bed by 9:00 with lights out and computer off by 10:00 p.m. Some nights I’m better at this than others. Going to bed earlier isn’t always the issue. It’s staying asleep. Not tossing and turning for a hour when I wake up at 3:00 a.m. because of an unfamiliar sound or because I’m still not comfortable in a bed that’s not my own.
Hold on. Hold on. Just hold on.
We’re all moved in, beds are made, kitchen’s in full operation, and there are sofas to sit upon in the living room. Mostly all is well. I say mostly because there are still things to go through and see how it will fit into this new life. I’m trying to force myself back into my old routines of home, school, church, work, and fun. Some things happen whether or not I’m ready or willing. Other’s keep getting pushed to the back burner and set to simmer for a little while longer.
I have to figure out how certain things will come together with all the changes we’re faced with. Big things like getting the kids transferred to their new schools, little things like recalculating the time and distances to our regular haunts and odd things such as which grocery store is now closest. Those old routines all get tweaked.
In the midst of all the chaos and turmoil, daily life has still happened. The kids still went to school, I still went to work, we still hung out with old friends and made new ones along the way. I’ve smiled, I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, and I’ve crinkled my forehead in confusion. The more things change, the more they stay the same. I’m still searching for the same thingsand the dreams are all the same. It just all takes place from a slightly different perspective now. One I’m still figuring out as I go along.
It rained Friday afternoon. I prayed that we would be able to load the bedroom and dining room furniture that had been donated to me in the open trailer and get it to the new place without ruining everything. We covered things the best that we could and hoped the rain that had begun to taper off wouldn’t suddenly become another downpour. That wet night made me appreciate the hot sun the next day as over 15 friends and assorted older children converged to help me move.
Move. It seemed like such a relative term. We gathered up industrial grade trash bags filled with our belongings that had been salvaged from a drenched apartment. Wet boxes held crystal serving pieces that barely had a scratch on them. Crates borrowed from a nearby grocery store held soaking wet yearbooks from middle school and high school where mold had rapidly grown over the past week. More memories that had to be thrown out.
Less than two hours later, those bags and boxes sat piled on a vinyl green tarp spread out in the living room to protect the pale carpet from any debris or mud that was brought inside. We will be going through those bags for at least the next week, if not more. Sorting, cleaning, tossing, and saving.
We were still staying with a friend since the new place wasn’t anywhere near ready to be stayed in overnight. It was nice not to have to sort though bags and boxes to find shampoo or a towel that may or may not need to be laundered before it could be pressed into service. That time would come all too soon. For the moment, we enjoyed being in her home and using it as a base camp of sorts. The alarm clock was set to go off early for a full morning of church activities. After church, the frantic pace of my to-do list was quickly wearing on my nerves. Too much needed to happen in too short a time period. By 6:00 that evening I decided that The Boy and I needed to call it a night and spend some quality time on the couch. The Girl had left earlier in the day for an overnight trip to a theme park with her scout troop. I was glad she decided not to cancel on them at the last minute.
Earlier in the week, I made the decision to use a portion of my savings along with monies donated by my coworkers to purchase a living room set. None of the upholstered items or wood pieces, with the exception of a small side board, were salvaged from the flooded living room of the apartment. With it being Memorial Day weekend, there were sales and bargains to be had at most furniture stores.
Monday morning I woke up at 4:30 a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep. This was much later than I’ve been sleeping lately. I tossed and turned for about an hour before grabbing a nearby magazine and read in bed for the next little bit. I gave up on drifting off when the sun began to shine through the window’s wooden shutters. It was easier to quit fighting it, make a pot of coffee, and enjoy the silence of the early morning. An hour later, E-Dubya shuffled into the room and joined me on the couch for some cuddle time.
We ate a lazy breakfast and then headed down to Ocala to a furniture store there I’d always wanted to visit. It was a brief, yet successful shopping trip that we capped off with a visit to Chuck E. Cheese’s for The Boy to have some pizza and play video games for a little while.
When I can manage to spend large chunks of time at home I see things from two different perspectives. I see what all we’ve accomplished already in last few days and at the same time I see what all there is left to do and that thought exhausts me. This has not been a normal move, not in any sense of the word. There aren’t neatly taped and labeled boxes stacked along the walls of each room waiting to be systematically unpacked. There is chaos all around me and I just want it over and settled. I’m tired of the knots in my stomach that are ever present these days. I’m tired of the million things to do, and the unrealistic expectation I know I’ve set of myself in accomplishing these tasks. I’m ready to sit on my sofa and be bored. I want to stare at the wall and have absolutely nothing to do but stare. Those days are coming. I do see them. I’m just impatient.