September 19, 2008

please define “happy”

One morning not too long ago, I was sitting at the table with the boys while they ate breakfast. Charlie was swinging his feet and waving his spoon in the air; I probably asked him to stop doing both and just eat his cereal, please.  And he pointed his spoon at me and said, “Mommy, are you happy?”

I stared at him.  “What?”

“Are you HAPPY?” he repeated, taking a bite of cereal.  “Right now — are you happy?”

I continued to stare.

“Of COURSE she’s happy,” Henry said. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

Yes.  Why wouldn’t I be happy?

I use a lot of words during the day to describe myself — busy, anxious, listening, thinking, working, stressed, interested, finished, behind — but happy is almost never on the list.  To some extent, of course, this has to do with the conventions of conversation; when someone calls and says, “How are you?” it’s not really appropriate to say, “Happy!” unless you want them to think you’ve been drinking before lunch.

Which I never do, for the record.

The other day I ran into a friend and said, of course, “How are things going?”  She sighed and said, “Oh, fine.  Fine!  Everything is fine!  That’s what I’m supposed to say, isn’t it?”  “Yes,” I said, “I suppose it is, but how are things REALLY?”

Not so fine, it turns out.

It is hard to find the opening to say, I am not happy.  It is especially hard, I think, when there is nothing really going on that justifies not being happy.  You know, no financial catastrophe or lingering illness or collapsing marriage.

Still.  Happy is not on my list most days.

Why would I not be happy?  I don’t know, I really don’t.  I have great kids and a fantastic husband and a beautiful home; we have plenty of money and good health insurance and stable jobs.  Our parents are healthy, the kids are doing well in school, the lawn is finally looking good.  What is there not to be happy about?

I would not say that I am unhappy.  Tired, yes, certainly.  Frustrated, irritated, some other words that end in -ated, probably. But unhappy?  No.  Just not happy.  And yes, those are two different things, I think, although I can’t explain that just now, just like I can’t think of those other -ated words that I also am every day.

I don’t remember specifically which day it was that Charlie pointed his spoon at me and asked if I was happy, but I can tell you this for certain about that morning: I had gotten up early, before 5:00 am, to make lunches and check email and possibly start laundry or load the dishwasher.  By the time I sat down at the table with the kids, I had been up for close to two hours and had probably drunk close to four cups of coffee.  I was most likely making a grocery list or filling out forms for school or making notes about things that absolutely had to get done that day.  How do I know all of that if I don’t know what day it was?  Because every morning is like that, pretty much, even the weekends.

I can see why someone might wonder if I was happy.

I would love to say that I’m doing something constructive to get back to being happy, that I’m knitting or running or taking bubble baths, but the thing is that I think I only just realized that I was missing happy.  I suppose the first step is to deal with all those other things on the list — anxious and behind and frustrated and tired.  I think that happy is under there somewhere.  At least I hope it is, because now that I know it’s gone I really want it back.

September 17, 2008

I would like to buy Jillian Michaels a hot fudge sundae

Everyone I know is doing this 30 Day Shred workout — do you know about this?  Apparently the short version is this: Jillian Michaels kicks your ass for 20 minutes a day, you can’t walk for the first week, you eat everything in sight, and after a month you look like Elle MacPherson.

Yeah, whatEVER.  I don’t need that — I have the Unrelenting Stress of two jobs and two kids and a husband who just announced that he’s buying a new car (this week, even!) to keep me thin.

Good god.

A variety of things, other than the 30 Day Shred, have been kicking my ass recently.  Yesterday Charlie came home from school and plugged up the toilet in the downstairs bathroom, causing it to overflow EVERYWHERE.  I had to choose between wading into the muck in my very expensive Jack Rogers sandals or taking them off and walking into the bathroom in my BARE FEET (you do NOT want to know what I chose — god I don’t even want to think about it).

Henry followed up the Toilet Incident by spending ninety minutes doing his homework, and before you say oh my god how much homework does he HAVE? let me tell you that I’m pretty sure it takes all the other kids in second grade about eight minutes to do the homework because they’re not stopping after every single math problem to recap the plot of Star Wars (The Original Trilogy).  Twice.

At some point I gave up and started drinking.  Seriously.  Because what else was I supposed to do?

Charlie woke me up at 4:30 this morning with a bloody nose, which is always a nice way to start the day.  By the time I got him all unbloodied, it was time for me to make coffee and check email and start my day.

Tonight I took Henry to soccer practice and decided to sit in the car because a) I was too crabby to hang out with the other parents, and b) I was pretty sure I would wind up yelling at my kid if I were outside where I thought he could hear me.  So instead I watched from my Honda as he ran lap after lap because apparently the words PAY ATTENTION are not in his very large vocabulary.

Pretty much the last three weeks have been just like that (although with more homework and less raw sewage and blood) and honestly, it is kicking my ass.  My jeans, which were all too tight at the beginning of the month, fit again, which is a good thing, I guess, if only because I’m getting to skip the part of the 30 Day Shred where I can hardly stand up straight and can’t bring my knees together.  At this rate, I will be a size 0 by November.

See?   LITERALLY kicking my ass.  Dude.

September 15, 2008

blurry (like my weekend)

This is my friend Christa, reading about herself.

Thanks to everyone who came and bought the book!

(Very tired from the weekend — Heather made me stay up WAY too late.  She also MADE me eat Sonic and go shoe shopping, which was actually awesome now that I think about it.)

September 10, 2008

why, is there something else I should be worried about?

I spent an hour this morning Googling everything in my makeup bag to make sure that it was all non comedogenic; the dermatologist gave me a Strict Talking To the other day about how important that was.  You know right before he shot me in the face with liquid nitrogen.

(Aside: Prescriptives Camouflage Cream is the BOMB — total coverage, or at least enough that no one has said OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED?!?  And yes, I totally went for the concealer yesterday because I am shallow.  Get over it.)

So I’ve been using Clinique’s Super CityBlock (SPF 40!) for years; it has a nice light (slightly reflective) tint that stands in for foundation.  Unfortunately, it appears that perhaps THIS is what is exacerbating my acne.

Good to know!

I dug around in my Free Samples Cabinet (yes, I have a Free Samples Cabinet, don’t you?) and found some Aveeno sunscreen that was CLEARLY labeled “non comedogenic” and put that on.  But I’m feeling pretty eh about it (not tinted! just plain! not helping!).  So now I’m all obsessed with finding a non comedogenic tinted sunscreen.

God my life is hard.

Also: I realized today that I really REALLY need a haircut, or at least a bang trim, but there’s no time this week.  Fortunately, HeatherB is coming for the weekend, and I’m thinking I can get her to cut it (shh don’t tell her, you might scare her). I think she could do it, I really do.

We’ll take pictures, I promise.

And one more also!  Keeping the whoa-I-am-shallow vibe going this week is this: I’ve been road testing shapewear (you know, SPANX!) which involves wearing the damn things ALL DAY.  All of you all who are hooked on Mad Men?  You do NOT want to be wearing what those girls were wearing.  Spanx is a HUGE improvement over a girdle, but it’s still not for everday wear.

And last but not least is THIS: in a Super Secret BlogHer project (that you will find out about on Monday anyway) I’ve been shopping with local OKC bloggers.  Like GOING SHOPPING!  For fun stuff!  And having someone else pay for it all! And I am torn between LOVING my job (shopping! with someone else’s money!) and thinking that Clinton and Stacey work really REALLY hard.

And now I have to go put some lipstick on a pit bull, or something like that.

(Book signing!  Saturday!  11:15 at The Full Circle!  Please come — I’ll show you my shoes …)