Keeping the peace, but not quite...

This past month has been a particularly rough month work-wise. My husband has literally been home maybe a week in the past four or five and those seven or so days have not been consecutive. I am sure it is difficult on him to be out on the road dealing with what he has to deal with and not being home with his wife and children on a consistent basis. It isn’t easy for myself either dealing with the inane things that I deal with over and over again without much reprieve. As terrible as it sounds, and all mothers have been there, but there are days where I am literally on my knees begging for the night to come so that I can have a few short hours of peace. Some nights are not so great and I have to put the kids to bed maybe a dozen or so times a night before it sticks. Needless to say, I will do anything and everything to keep my kids asleep. Sleep on the couch if I have to separate them from their shared bedroom, if one or the other feels the need to keep the other up? Sure. I’ve been on the couch a number of times. Wake up at 4am to bring the oldest into bed with me so she doesn’t wake up her little brother? Yup. Been close to smothering the dog because he hears a stray leaf blow down the sidewalk and feels the need to go ballistic, barking like mad? No, but I will spray him with water to shush him up if I have to! You get the point. I am a protective Mama Bear of my own quiet time and for the dear sweet quietness of rest for my darling children. I do what I need to do as most mothers do. Even if it means stepping out of what we call a “comfort zone.”



One particular evening, it’s after 9pm and the kids have had their typical day and sadly typical evening and I was in no mood to have them awoken yet again after the dust settled and peace sprang like a river, so I was very on edge when I kept hearing noise from the neighbor who lives in the condo above ours. I am used to noise. We live on a busy street and I have two kids and a dog. I am aware of the general noises of our neighbors and typically hear Mister Upstairs walking about and what not, but on this night it was beyond ridiculous. The air conditioning unit in our condo was on full blast and it’s an old one so it rattles loudly AND I was watching a movie on my computer with my ear buds in and I could STILL hear all the crazy thumping, bumping, and thwacking that was occurring above. I swear that if it continued, I would have been sitting amongst the rubble of what would have been formerly my ceiling. I swear. This type of noise has occurred before. Last year. When Mister Upstairs had what I am assuming to be his grandchildren come for a visit. Last year, I tolerated it a bit better. This year, I am older, wiser and have less patience. Maybe I am just braver and fully embracing Mama Bear status? Who knows. After maybe ten or fifteen minutes of continued rabble rousing, or so it seemed, I began to hear my children stir. Oh unh unnnn!

I grabbed my ever ferocious protector, Sebastian, mostly so he wouldn’t be left behind to bark and add to the rumpus, and I marched right up to Mister Upstairs’ door and knocked. I had to knock thrice. Yes, it was that loud. When he answered he looked annoyed at me. Really? You are going to be annoyed at me?!

“Umm, I am so sorry to bother you, but you are being kind of loud and my kids are trying to sleep….” And I believe I said it with a slightly terrified grimace.

Mister Upstairs merely stared at me with a look of defiant annoyance. Maybe it is something that elderly gentlemen master so as not to have to deal with young women?

So again, I apologize. (!!!!)

“My kids are up from New Jersey to visit,” he stated. He then just continued to stare at me with the door merely ajar so that only his menacingly large frame peeked at me from inside. And was I to merely accept this as the only information needed so that I could proceed with a relatively quieter evening? He seemed satisfied with his response. I was confused and starting to stutter.

“Oh, I am so sorry. I don’t mean to be that kind of person, you know, but, um, it’s just really loud…”

Aaaaaand nothing.

So, I turned and started to make my way back down the stairs with a mumbled, “Thanks…??” thrown over my shoulder.

Could my life be more awkward?

Oh and there’s more.

The very next day (and I was desperately hoping to avoid this), as I am walking out of the building with my kids, who is walking into the building, but Mister Upstairs. I look up and give a sheepish, shy smile and was about to choke out a “hello” when he kept his head down stiff and brushed right past me. So, I guess that would make Mister Upstairs, now, Enemy #1. To make matters worse, Mister Upstairs (aka: Enemy #1) is buddy buddy with his next door neighbor and they like to stand on the landing and chat.

The night following my terrifying confrontation, I hear Mister Upstairs’ neighbor come home and I hear him come out and they proceed to talk. So of course, being the nosy neighbor that I apparently am, I mute the television so I can hear if he mentions me. He does. And while I only heard a muffled version and an irritated tone, I am fairly certain that what I did to him (?) has upset him to the equivalent of me murdering some dear pet of his. As far as I recall, I did not harm any children or animals in said event. So now, I think he hates me and wants to slash my tires.

I am probably over-reacting. At least I hope so.

But come to think of it, Mister Upstairs (aka: Enemy #1) might actually be Enemy #2 because if Mister Downstairs saw me last Christmas put down the baked goods I left for him and then saw or heard me come back to take them back because I wasn’t sure if he was home or not and interpreted that as me being intentionally rude and mean, then that would make sense as to why he doesn’t ever say hello or look me in the face when I attempt to be neighborly with him and he would be, for all intents and purposes, Enemy #1. Oh my.

Yes, I have reached crazy Mama Bear overload. Come, Andrew, home quickly.

Book Block

I have a penchant for reading and books. Every change of the seasons brings with it for me a new tone, if you will; a new feeling in the air and thus a craving for certain types of books. Fall has a somber and ominous tone and I love reading dark stories or mysteries and especially around Halloween, I usually cave and grab for anything Edgar Allen Poe or Stephen King. Winter time is clean and bright and Dickensian almost, spring has a fresh coming of age tint to it and summer....ahhhh, summer. Summer is light and fluffy and beachy, and ridden with sunny guilty pleasures.

I have to admit, though, of late, I have not kept up with my reading. I get almost mad at myself and when I don't have a stack in order sitting right next to my bed, I almost panic. I feel slightly lost. I think I have wandered into that strange no-man's land yet again.

I've been reading up on cleanses and detoxification, but man cannot subsist on non-fiction alone and so I randomly picked up a Mitch Albom novel at the library a few weeks ago. I read it. I liked it after a while. Kind of depressing, a little preachy, interesting style and in the end, it leaves you with some happy food for thought. I picked up another one. Not the best idea for me. I tend to get a little annoyed with a writer's style if I read a number of their novels back to back. I have read the first five pages of For One More Day three times. And it is not a long book, so what is the problem? I am also reading what I thought was going to be an inspiring story of one woman overcoming a childhood and young adulthood of obsession with her weight and learning to love herself as she is and her quest for health, not size. Thin is the New Happy is not that book. Hm. Also have been reading that book for some time. I am not in any hurry to pick up either too quickly and so now what?

My husband pokes fun at me because I have a booklist online with the library. I think I have about eighty books on there that I am interested in reading. Furthermore, I have random stacks of books floating about our bedroom of books that I have bought (all on sale from the library at $3 per ginormous bag!!) and they are collecting dust. So?

The problem seems to be this: I have gone overboard. I have never been, but I can only imagine those all-you-can-eat buffets in Vegas where they have every food and dessert imaginable under the sun. I would believe that it would be almost crippling to eat there. Not only for your health, but to decide on a few small items that one could conceivably consume in one meal and then to sit and enjoy them wondering the whole time of you picked the best and most delicious combinations of foods that you could be wanting at that particular point in time. Should there be seconds? Where to start? Where to end? Too many choices! Yes, I have created too many choices.

Oh and we can't forget the rules. If you don't already know how deep the crazy is in my rabbit hole, then this will probably clue you in. I have to read a book in it's entirety ie: if I have a scholastic publication of a certain novel, I must and will read all the commentary and notes even down to copyright info ad infinitum. I feel like I gain more understanding of the author and the frame of the book that way. Maybe that's just me or maybe that's literati everywhere. I really don't know, but that's the way of it with me. This may or may not include an independent search of the author and/or events surrounding a certain novel. It all really depends. So that's that. Maybe I am getting too bogged down by all of this. Maybe it's just that carefree summer-ness which just indicates that a fluffy sunny read is necessary to clear out and calm down the madness?

Yes, I think that's just what it might be. Okay, I am starting to feel better already. Vacuum and swiffer? Nah. Dishes? Pooh! Sort and stack up top ten fluffy summer reads? OKAY! I love the smell of paper in the afternoon!

The Magic Maker

Five minutes ago, I was twelve, in junior high school and had big, big plans. I woke up this morning and I am twenty-eight years old and my life is pretty much set in stone; some portions of it anyway. Ah well, life is a crazy funny tornado of time, isn't it?

My son started walking a few days ago.

My daughter finished her first year of pre-school last week.

The kids are getting older which means more fun than ever and more work than ever. It also means, we are getting older, too, but I try not to focus on that part! One revelation I've come to within the past few years and another hat I believe that mothers wear is that of Magic Maker. We create the magic. We make the good times roll. It doesn't just happen, you know?! Summer fun? Gotta create the magic! Christmas? The presents do not wrap themselves, nor have I found self baking cookies! Vacations? No one plans those for us! We have to do it ourselves?!!! I know all this may seem self evident, but if your mom and/or dad were truly wonderful Magic Makers, then I don't think you should have noticed the seems of life until now. So, this is really a compliment to my parents, my own personal Magic Makers. I had no idea, but now I do and it's just a new side of the fun, this behind the scenes Magic Making.

Summer Fun Magic Making has commenced. Big, big plans of beach trips, walking to the park, Treadwell's ice cream over at Smolak Farms, and who knows what else. We have always talked of taking a real live family vacation... oh my! The possibilities! So now, I am twenty-eight years old and I have big, big plans. They just have taken a slight twist. I think I kinda like my Magic Maker Hat...

Me Time

In efforts to not get into a deeply stinky funk over the fact that I really only see my husband a few shorts days a month, I thought up a few perks of being a married, wife of a pilot yet "single" gal (with two kids and dog).

- I don't have to share the remote.
- I can watch cheesy girly movies to my hearts content and don't have to fight tooth and nail and face the mocking afterwards (granted the children stay asleep, of course)
- I don't have to share the bathroom.
-Not many parenting conflicts. I am the only one here so my daughter (who is the only one using actual words of late) can't run and boohoo to Daddy or ask him for a second opinion and disregard the first. What I say, goes. This is also not a perk as well, but we are looking at the bright side here!
-If passengers don't eat their catering, Andrew brings it home for us. Cheese platter, anyone? (On his LAST leg! No, he does not save food and travel around with it for a week! That's just gross.)
-Along the same lines, he brings home Splenda packets from hotels. We are super penny savers!!
-Hotel points. The past three anniversaries we have had, we were able to go away for two nights each time all using hotel points.
-We have periodic access to airplanes. No, we do not OWN a plane so we can't just load up and fly out whenever. Many, many little conditions need to be right, but we have been able to fly to Nantucket, Martha's Vineyard, New Jersey (to go to the Central Park Zoo in NYC...so fun!), and once we drove down to CT thinking we were going to be able to fly back home, but we ended up back in the car... Oh well.
-I can sit and eat popcorn for dinner.
-I can go wherever I want (with kids in tow, of course) and I don't have to run it by anyone.
-I can turn the light out and go to sleep (I need it dark and quiet to sleep, so if Andrew is home and up or in bed with the light on, I have to wait because I won't be able to sleep).
-I can pop over to my parents' house anytime I want.

There are a lot more non-perks, but this short list made me somewhat less sorry for myself.