1. It's recently come to my attention that I need to resume going to bed by 10:30. Syd wakes up early again since she's back on a decent schedule and I'm having to DRAG myself out of bed a good 45 minutes after she's awake. She's happy to play in her bed and look through her books for a while but I shouldn't be waiting for her to get MAD to finally get up and get her. Mom FAIL. Not to mention that I'm a total RAVING LUNATIC JERKFACE by 3 pm every day because I'm so out-of-control tired. UGH.
2. Tonight marked my first Twitter-rant. The subject? Our basset hound, who is NOT neutered and his tendency to MARK (URINATE) inside MY house on a regular basis. Tonight he stole a leftover piece of prime rib from Lawry's off the dining room table when I left the room for 30 seconds to get Sydney's sippy cup. THAT TAKES BALLS, people. And the dog doesn't deserve to have them anymore. Why? Because when he got caught MAKING OUT with the prime rib from said expensive restaurant, he was scolded and put outside for punishment. That's it. He was made to stay outside for the duration of Sydney's meal which KILLED him because the girl gives free handouts to the dogs ON PURPOSE. Soon after I let him in the house and left for AN HOUR and came back to PEE. EVERYWHERE. ESPECIALLY IN MY BEDROOM. (Retaliation pee much?) He also had a nice gallop by the sleeping girl's room when I let him back in after I got done cleaning up pee. And yes, it woke her up. And yes, it took two hours for her to go back to sleep. All this combined with the fact that the dog runs out the front door at ANY and EVERY opportunity means one thing: He'd better enjoy licking his balls for the next few weeks because I'm asking for neutering for my anniversary present on July 30. AND IF I DON'T GET IT I'M BUYING IT FOR MYSELF.
3. I want to acknowledge that I have been writing about darker things (here and here) on my blog recently. It occurs to me that sometimes when I am going through difficult things I kind of wash over them in real life AND in print and I'm trying to make an effort to stop. I realize that for the readers who enjoy reading (only) my mom freak-outs that it's a sudden turn and it's awkward or whatever. And it's fine if you just read. But you know what else? It's fine to say something too. I'm giving you that permission in my life. This is not me begging for comments. This is not me apologizing for writing those blog entries. But as I've looked back over what I've written over the last week it's occurred to me that there are others out there who need me to say something about how to respond to someone dealing with grief:
A lot of times when people encounter someone who is grieving or going through something they can't empathize with they just kind of throw their hands up and say "I can't relate" and move on by. Maybe they're afraid to offend? Maybe they don't know what to say? Maybe they just can't handle it? I want to tell you that being caught in the wash of tragedy is an isolating thing. And when people say nothing? It makes you feel like you're the only one who has ever been through it or that no one likes the version of you that is hurt and broken. Even though it may be hard for you – and even though there is risk involved because grieving people say and do things they normally wouldn't because they are lost and hurt – don't be afraid to reach out to someone. No matter how they react the fact that someone cares and recognizes what they are going through is important.
4. On Friday nights we have church at the park near our house. We bring a little grill, cook out, the boys play football, and we roast marshmallows and eat s'mores (so yeah, it's the most awesome church EVER). At the park several homeless people have felt ok with hanging out with us and we are in the process of getting to know them better. I mention all this because my neighbor – who is a very nice man that will be friends with us so long as we don't try and Jesus him up and we're all right with that – regularly goes to the same park and feeds and tries to help out some of the homeless who stop there. When I got home tonight he was sitting on his front stoop with his dog waiting for his wife to get home and I asked him about one of the people we'd met tonight. He knew who I meant and he responded that he didn't really like to help people (mind you we were talking about homeless people) who seemed "better off." The person that I'd mentioned was living in their pickup truck with two dogs, and the bed of the truck was packed neatly with supplies (I saw a sleeping bag, things like that) and there was food for the dogs at least. As I was mopping up PEE tonight I wondered to myself what it is about humans that we try to figure out "who needs it more" and make up little mental rulebooks for who we will help and who we don't think is worthy of our help. At the end of the conversation with myself I decided that's it's ok to me if some people take advantage of my help who might need it less – or dare I say not at all – so that I don't accidentally skip over someone who might really need my help because I'm all busy being cynical about it. That probably makes me a doormat but whatevs.
5. My mom made it to Denver. I'm so dang proud of her!
6. We have been rearranging furniture this week … the full size bed once and for all came out of Sydney's room and went into the Room Formerly Known As John's Office. It still looks like John's office except there's a bed where the desk used to be. At least Nana will have lots of good reading material when she visits (there are SO MANY BOOKS IN THERE) and Sydney will sleep the uninterrupted sleep of a princess (HA!) when we have visitors.
7. I mentioned earlier that we ate at Lawry's this week … it was a special occasion! John's parents celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary this weekend. How cool is that? I hope they have another 40 happy years together. I am so glad to have their marriage to look up to and to have the fruits of their years of hard work (AHEM, their SON) paying off so many fold in my own life. I am so blessed to have them as my parents-in-law and as our daughter's grandparents! Love you Momma and Pop!
(and yes, they got married YOUNG!!)