American Girl

She waits another week to fall apart...

If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace. ~ Thomas Paine

XXXOOO!

posted by: rustymadgal at 00:38 | link | comments (14) |

You can imagine my annoyance when I got an email from my brother, with a link to the NYC Half Marathon, and a note saying "I signed you up."  Oh, and "You have to raise $1,500."  I sent him back a few choice words, and a suggestion that certainly it was not legal for him to forge my name on a legal agreement, and he of all people should know this.  Then he called, and I grumbled about it some more.  We both decided I was a bitch, and now here I am, training for a half marathon.

I got some new running shoes and woke up early last weekend to start breaking them in.  By the time I got to the end of the second block, I was tired.  My laces were too tight.  But I kept going.  It was windy and cold and unpleasant.  I'm tired of the rain.

I ran past the square in the sidewalk  that some silly homeowner left unsupervised except for a  "Wet Cement" sign, even though his home was right along the main road that takes all the kids to and from school.  That was about 25 years ago, and still, clear  as day, you can read "Pierre The Great" in one corner.  Pierre sat next to me in fifth grade.  I used to let him copy my spelling test for a piece of Bazooka bubble gum.  He was the only Pierre in our whole school, and quite possibly the whole town.  I remember he got called to the principal's office for that.   His mom taught CCD out of her house, and she always gave us Nutter Butters at the end.  She was awesome.

I ran through the school yard and thought about the morning that I was there early, and the janitor was on the roof.  He threw down to me all of the tennis balls that were up there, and it was like I'd won the lottery.  I think I had five tennis balls.  Everyone in my class was so impressed.  I gave one to Pierre.  So I'm thinking, and my lungs are totally burning at this point, that's all it took?   Happiness and joy and excitement used to come so easily.  Now I squelch them all down with a little brown bottle of pills.

Then I thought about the pharmacy, and how there was a big fight between two employees while I was waiting there last week.  The manager said "Go start looking for a new job" but no one thought she meant it.   Then I get my pills, and they look like this:



and I wonder if the argument was over how inept one must be to slap warning stickers on drugs in such a way?  I mean honestly, why bother?

So yeah, I'm back on the drugs, but only one and it seems to be working a lot better than the cocktail I was taking before.  I have hope that I will some day be off of this one too.

I ran past the chicken place and had an instant craving for fried chicken.   And biscuits.  I thought I probably should eat before running.  It started raining, just a light drizzle, but I just kept going.  I thought the girls were probably starting to wake up, and so my three favorite people were probably all snuggled in bed watching cartoons, and what on earth was I doing out here in the rain?

I don't even like running, truth be told.

I thought about my mom, and how one of the last things she said to me before she went into surgery  that she never work up from, was "Keep running with your brother.  It's his way of loving you."  This was before the marathon, which I did only because of these words.  I didn't think I'd be making a career out of it or anything.  In fact, I didn't think I'd ever do it again after that.  I thought about my brother, and how if he hadn't gone ahead and signed me up, I never would have agreed to this, and he knows it.  I flashed back to the last eight months and realized that he's been pretty lost since my mom died, and I've been so wrapped up in my own feelings of drowning in self pity that I barely even noticed.  He never just stops by anymore, and the email about the race was probably the first communication we'd had in two weeks.   This is really unheard of, for us.  I thought about how my biggest fear was that without the hub that was my mom, our family would just settle into our own separate routines and not be as close as we were, and how without even knowing it, I wasn't just letting it happen, but initiating it.  I was going off on my own, because it was easier to deal with my own pain and just lean on Ryan without carrying the weight of their pain too.

I almost got hit by a car.  Really.  I thought he had a stop sign.

I ran faster as I looped back home.  The burning was gone and my legs were tired, but my lungs were ok.  I got the smacking of my feet on the pavement to match the beat of the music in my ipod, and thought about how my entire ipod is filled with songs that have a drum beat that I can match my feet to.  The best one, that is perfectly my speed, is "Aimee"  You know, Whatchoo gonna do?  I don't even remember who sings it, but it matches my feet.  If I could put that song on an endless loop, I could probably run forever.

I decided that I'm going to get off these drugs and get my life back.  I'm going to start eating again, like a normal person.  I'm going to love my life.  It shouldn't be so hard.  It all starts with being ok.  I'm going to be ok.  I'm actually feeling quite good, truth be told.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 13:44 | link | comments (17) |

Two things happened today.  I met a new baby girl who was born last night.  She has a full head of black hair that sticks out every which way, and a dimple in her chin just like her dad.  She is beautiful and perfect and lucky and new, and I had to put her down and go back to work because she makes me think that maybe just one more baby would be nice.  New babies are catchy.

Then I got a phone call, which I missed, followed by an email detailing the sudden end of my best friend's marriage.  You may remember her as the girl who wasn't feeling the "spark".  When she finally mustered up the nerve to talk to her husband, and suggest they find a counselor to work on their marriage, he confessed that he's got "romantic feelings" (WTF, call it what it is, Asshole) for another woman and has for the past year, and he's done with the marriage.  The past YEAR!  I am shocked and sad and disillusioned and angry and sad and heartbroken and sad.

This is day three of no meds and my feelings are coming back.  Scary.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 18:54 | link | comments (20) |

Didn't mean to keep you in suspense.   (I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat.)

Ryan has conquered chicken pox, he went back to work today.  The super secret thing was that I was supposed to host a baby shower  last Saturday, and Ryan was still flat on his back all day Thursday, so I didn't know what I was going to do with all those people, most of whom I don't even know.  (It was a firehouse thing)   I couldn't mention it because I was afraid interested parties might have access to my blog.  I couldn't really reschedule because the pregnant momma is due this week.  (Slackers, I know)  Ryan ended up ok-ish on Friday, and even better Saturday, past the contagious stage for sure, so we went ahead with our plans to have it here.  I practically pulled an all-nighter bleaching my entire house, and the weather was nice enough that we could air it out and even make people overflow into the back yard once they got here.  It doesn't sound very stressful now that I just typed it out, but believe me, it was.

I didn't hire my all-in-one assistant, but a girl can dream, right?

I could actually use another project to throw myself into.  You know, aside from child rearing, and work, and the obvious stuff.  I don't do well when there's "stuff" going on at Ground Zero, and this was a nice distraction.  In the last week, I've gotten all these emails; "Make the perfect give for mom this year", "Just for Mom; the Williams-Sonoma personalized Apron", "There's still time to make Mom smile, with free shipping!" "Make a mug for mom!" and they go on and on and on and I wish I could hit reply to each one and tell them that every time they send me these messages the small part of my heart that's still pink and fleshy and beating turns black and crispy and very soon there won't be any fleshy pink parts left.  I suppose I could put the words "mom and mother" on my spam filter, but it just seems so heatbreakingly sad to do so.  And besides, there's always the off chance that some of the people who used to be my friends but have dropped like flies because my mom died and they don't know what to say or what to do so they say and do nothing might just drop me a line and say "Mother's Day sucks and I'm thinking about you" but it's doubtful, huh? 

Funny thing about death, after 9/11 I had all kinds of people falling all over themselves trying to be my friend and feel a connection to the tragedy, but now, a quiet death from cancer, and everyone just fades into the background.  I guess it's not interesting enough.

Not that I'm bitter.  Or anything.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 12:19 | link | comments (6) |

I bet you've been wondering what the girls got Ryan for his birthday.  Chicken Pox!  I don't think we'll ever solve the mystery of how someone can live  37 years on this planet and not get them without having some sort of freak immunity, but on the (very dim) bright side, at least he's immune now!   I guess if a week full of moaning and crying and whining and itching and not sleeping  (and the girls were upset too) means we'll never have to live through this hell again, maybe it was almost partially worth it.  Nah, doubt it.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to go off my meds.

Ryan was prescribed an anti-viral drug that's supposed to help ease adult chicken pox, and is used to treat Herpes to boot.  I told him great, now we can get a kayak and live a great, active, happy life like those people in the Herpes commercials!  He so doesn't think I'm funny, but some day he'll look back at this and laugh.  Or at least not want to kill me.

I have this big secret thing going on and I'm about to spontaniously combust because it's not going according to plan for all sorts of reasons and it's all on me to make it work and I have no idea how I'm going to do it and I only have till tomorrow to figure it out.  I need a masseuse, a chauffeur, a nurse, a nanny, a personal trainer, a party planner, a personal assistant, someone who's able to spit out about 16 performance reviews and also fire my receptionist who's been caught putting herbal shit in our drinking water AGAIN, a cabana boy, and someone's who's willing to research and book me a quiet, tropical vacation which I will take, alone.

I'll be accepting applications all day.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 13:31 | link | comments (8) |

I had a long talk with an old friend last night.  She says that she's thinking of leaving her husband.  The spark is gone, and she's unhappy.  She says he's a good man, he's kind and treats her well.  She loves him and has no doubt that he loves her, and yet, she's unhappy.

I said all kinds of nice, supportive things.  I have been divorced and I understand how difficult it is to express such a thing.  Still, I'm kicking myself this morning, because I wanted to tell her that marriage is a series of ebb and flow, up and down, and that it's not to be taken lightly or tossed aside at the first sign failure.

I wanted to tell her that no marriage is perfect.  That you can be so completely overwhelmingly in love with someone that you might find yourself slipping into a rage when they disappoint you.  You'll find yourself screaming "Don't bother coming home tonight!" and then crying all night when he doesn't.  You may look at the man you married and wonder if it's possible to hate him, but those aren't the times you need to be worried about.  The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference.   There's absolutely nothing indifferent about whispering "I hate you right now" through clenched teeth.  You can say these things because you know it's safe because underneath it all is love so strong that you promised to spend the rest of your life with this man and you know that no matter what you say, he's not going to walk away from you.

The stuff you have to worry about is the every day stuff.   The laundry and the bills and the diapers and the regular old life that doesn't include dinner out every night and does include night after night of TV.  It includes one or both of you giving too much of yourself to your job, and not enough to your family.  That's the stuff that creeps in and makes you think "Is this really it?  Is this my life?" and you mistakenly start to think it's your partner's fault.  You start to miss that new relationship feeling, and you become stupid enough to think that if you started all over with someone else, you wouldn't eventually end up in the same exact place.

I wanted to tell her that I think she's being stupid and selfish and cruel, and that she owes it to her husband and her child to at least, at the very least, address this problem, if it even is one, before throwing up her hands and walking away without even exploring why she's unhappy.  I wanted to curse her for comparing her marriage to mine, or anyones, because unless you're living inside someone's four walls, you really have no idea what their struggles and triumphs are.  I wanted to smack her for taking something so serious as marriage and making a mockery of it.  I wanted to hurt her in order to get her to feel something, because right now she isn't and I don't even know how she can be this way and still be human.  I want to tell her to grow up and stop being such a baby and do something, but I was afraid that that something would be the wrong thing, so I didn't.

Everyone thinks it's so easy. 

posted by: AmericanGirl at 11:52 | link | comments (14) |

The winter blues have been hitting especially hard this year.  Everyone I see seems to be worn down and so very over it.  I think we, as a country, are stuck in a rut.  Weird, since this is a time where we should be all excited and optimistic about getting some new leadership.  No one I talk to seems excited about the election, and I wonder if it's because it's still so far away?  We certainly did get the ball rolling too early, but really, who could blame us?  Maybe it's because all of the candidates are so mediocre.  Maybe it's because we're so quick to depend on the media to tell us what to think about the direction we're heading, and according to them, we're all going to be homeless by the third quarter.

Well I'm happy to tell you that Target and I did our part to stimulate the economy this afternoon.  I hope that brightens your outlook a bit.

A little while back Ryan's best friend got the girl he was "casually" seeing pregnant.  Not so casual if you ask me, but I'm not here to judge so you didn't hear that from me.  I spent a few months witnessing his roller coaster, which was more of a downward spiral than an actual up and down coaster, and something animal and/or maternal in me really disliked this girl.  I'm fully aware that it takes two, and he was equally responsible, and I'm not even going to go there with choices and what not, but he was sad and stressed and anxious and pretty much in turmoil and I felt for him because he's always been such a worry-free happy go lucky type.  He wasn't sure that he wanted a relationship with her, and from hearing his side of the story only she seemed kind of neutral on the whole idea too.

I must say I did admire them both for sticking by one another, even if it seemed all distant and weird.  They came over to visit and I can tell you now that I love this girl.  Seriously, we're like soul mates!  I can't believe I wasted all that energy having negative thoughts about her.  We've talked on the phone almost every day since then, gone out to dinner a few times, and oh my, it's exciting.  Poor Matty has commented on my change in attitude from "You poor guy, I'm sorry you're going through this" to "You better marry this girl, you asshole"  but he doesn't seem especially bothered by it.  After all, it's all about gaining my approval, right?

The baby is due April 23 and it's a girl.  Wohoo!  Now I can save all of Carly's cute girl clothes to pass on.

In other happy news, Ryan's brother and his wife are cautiously expecting as well, so I'm going to be an aunt again.  

Alright, that's about all the happy I've got, and I won't bore you with the sad.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 16:19 | link | comments (5) |

I'm officially ready to quit life.  What kind of a joke is this anyway?  My baby has chicken pox.  So much for the stupid vaccine she got, huh?  Oh, she would have gotten a booster, the doctor says.  Well I say that sucks.  And then he says all brightly "Well, she won't need one now!".  Great.  And I suppose Carly won't either, since I'm sure she's about to get the pox from her sister.

And the real kicker?  Ryan has never had chicken pox.   We're hoping that he's somehow developed some freak immunity to it.

I have all kinds of cheery things to write about, but I just had to bitch about that first.  Hmph.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 21:30 | link | comments (6) |

Yesterday while I wasn't even running late or anything, my friend and I decided at the top of a flight of stairs that we just weren't going to miss that train that was just about to close it's doors and pull away.    I can't explain why, it was just one of those things.  So we raced down, touching about every third step, and I wish I could have seen what it looked like, but I felt like a leapt across the entire platform and landed just inside the doors as they were about to close, only my heel didn't quite make it.  I can't explain exactly what happened after that except that although I didn't fall, it wasn't at all graceful.  Lots of arm swinging and juggling the books I was carrying.  But, landing on my feet, I shot a dirty look at everyone who dared look amused on my behalf, including my friend, and sat down.  Didn't give it much more thought until I tried to stand up again and found out that I couldn't.  Well, I could, because I did, but my back was all messed up.  It hurts so bad. Stupid boots.  Stupid subway.  Stupid me.

Today I went to a chiropractor who really turned out to be a sports medicine doctor, and he said it's "just a sprain".  Surely, with the way I'm feeling, it was the worst sprain he had ever seen in his entire medical career?  He didn't commit to that, but he did look sympathetic.  I thought for sure he would hand me all sorts of pain killers and send me on my way (Hello, Dr Drew!) but he suggested rest, and Advil.  Advil!  What we have here is a failure to communicate.  I can barely move, I have a job and a commute and two babies and a husband to take care of.  Where are all those shady chiropractors I see on the cheesy news programs who get caught in a undercover sting operation slipping prescriptions for all kinds of questionable controlled substances to anyone with a hangnail and a sob story?  I need to find one of those.  Until I find one, I'm staying here in my bed, on the laptop, being mad at Ryan for not sharing his good pain meds.

To top it all off, this morning as I was struggling to get dressed, which is a struggle, if you haven't been paying attention till now, Carly was in the exersaucer.  I heard those three words that fill every mother of two young children with dread: "Baby Carly, CATCH!" followed by a hollow sounding "Bonk!".  Poor Carly got hit right between the eyes with a giant plastic bumble bee.  She started crying, Hope started crying, and right before my eyes, this gigantic bump grew out of her head like a unicorn horn.  I was ready to have her airlifted to the ER, it looked so horrible, but Ryan checked her out and said she's fine.  It's the bumps that don't swell all gigantic that you have to worry about.    He's a handy guy to have around, my husband.  Except when it comes to doling out controlled substances.

If you're not feeling sufficiently sorry for us all by now, I've got nothing else for you.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 17:44 | link | comments (9) |

I must become a celebrity because I want, no, need Dr. Drew to save me.  Seriously, there is just something about him.  What is it?



When I'm on Celebrity Rehab I'll be sure to act up in the middle of the night so he has to come in and talk me down in his regular clothing and not the suit.  I'm not into the suits.  The black t-shirt and jeans - Yes!  But the suits, not so much.

Dr. Drew, if you're reading this, I'm surviving solely on valium, xanax and energy drinks.   And jelly beans.  Only the red and yellow ones.  You're my only hope.  Easter's coming early this year, and all the jelly beans will be gone, gone, gone.

Shut up.  He might read my blog.  You never know.

posted by: AmericanGirl at 18:26 | link | comments (16) |

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