Sometimes I sit down to write a post for this blog and I get all hung up on the TITLE.

You know, I really can be distracted rather easily sometimes. I know I opened up this website so I could write about something that was in my mind. Then I saw the TITLE area and lost my train of thought. I started to write: Beautiful Summer, and Life in the Slow Lane, and Birthday Blues, and… well then I thought all of those were fairly nice titles but have nothing to do with what I wanted to write about.

Which was?

Yeah, I’m easily distracted. This is something of a running joke in our household. Which one of us has the ADD, again? The one thing I keep coming back to which makes me deny having ADD (or ADHD, if you prefer) is that I made it all the way through college and grad school without any medication or treatment for ADD. That was six long years of being educated— lots of papers all handed in on time, lots of exams prepared for and taken, no incompletes, no withdrawing from classes… So, that makes me think there’s no way I could really have this disorder and still get by. And with a 4.0 GPA in grad school– and a 3.7 GPA in college.

Or maybe I just do well at school stuff. Is the single-minded structure of go-to-class, do-your-homework enough structure to make me succeed? I don’t know, really, but I am proud that I was so good at school.

My attitude fluctuates greatly. My default setting is “I can do anything I set my mind to.” Of course, I know that’s not exactly true. There are some things I probably cannot accomplish, but that would probably also be the fact that I don’t WANT to put my mind to them.

Today I want to put my mind to putting down some adhesive tiles in my children’s bathroom. I’m going to cover over the old tiles that are there, because they are cracked and incomplete, with sections of the floor that is just kinda grungy cement. I would take a before and after picture, but yesterday Carla and I managed to break my digital camera. Maybe I can borrow a camera from someone else, though.

I asked Drob if he was okay with me putting down these adhesive tiles over the floor in there, because they aren’t exactly high quality. They are pretty, though. I figure it’ll make an improvement, maybe last a couple of years. Maybe by then, we’ll have enough money to really fix up the bathroom for real.

He said, “Hmm… you might find it difficult.”

“Meh!” was my response. Difficult? Pshaw. I don’t think so!

What’s difficult is getting organized, getting a shower, finding all the things I need to do it, cleaning the floor before applying the tiles, finding a good cutting tool to trim them to the right size. Once I do all that, I’m gold. It’s gonna be a cinch.

Carla is turning nine on Saturday. We’re going to have one of my favorite kinds of birthday parties: Low key, low tech, getting down with nature at a park with a creek nearby. We’ll wade in the creek, eat watermelon and cake, hang out and chat, maybe do a pinyata. And that’s all. Easy.

I like easy stuff.

Easy stuff? Okay, now I know what to title this entry, incoherent though it may have been.

Today was a beautiful summer day. I spent a lot of time outdoors, and created a new raised flower bed, where I planted purple shamrocks and white impatiens.

I know there’s a lot of work to be done, but I’m feeling so much better thanks to summer being here. There’s still some big challenges ahead but I feel like I can face them.

I seriously have to wonder if I should continue my teaching job. On the one hand, I do enjoy it. On the other, it sure did give me a lot of stress this year. Annoyingly, even though my performance was evaluated by the community, I STILL have not received an evaluation from Personnel. I did hear from them verbally (”You have nothing to worry about…”); nevertheless, I feel really annoyed that I haven’t been given my evaluation letter or any official feedback.

If they weren’t going to take my evaluation seriously, what did I need to have so much stress and anxiety about?

And sadly, it really all boils down to one family. One cuckoo family can have such a horribly big negative impact on my psyche? That seems really unfair. If not for this one family, this one child’s problematic behavior, would I have spent the last month of school feeling like a mental patient?

The relief I feel is truly tangible. But what about next year? I can’t help but ask myself… is that kid coming back next year? Rumor has it that he might not. Of course, there’s always conflict, in any job. Could be anyone, any kid– and I have to be strong enough to handle it.

If this was trial by fire, then the question is whether I am now forged by fire, or just burnt out? I will think about this, more.

Lately I’ve had the opportunity to spend time with each of my children, alone, away from her sister.

That sentence is not a healthy one — hang on a minute while I take it out back and shoot it to put it out of its misery.

There.

Starting again now.

I have had the chance to spend some nice long chunks of time with each of my girls. Carla and I went shopping together, and doing other errands in a leisurely way on Sunday. Then on Monday, Carla was at camp, so Annie and I got to cuddle and watch a movie together. By evening, Annie and I were on our way to New York to visit my mom, and in preparation for going to the funeral this morning. On the drive up to NY, Annie suddenly said pensively, “I hate what we’re doing right now.”

Alarmed, I replied, “What, just sitting in the car waiting for the time to pass so we can get to Nonna’s house?” I figured she was probably just getting bored stiff.

“No, not that,” she answered. “I just hate that our car is polluting as we go.”

I’m back home now. I missed my big girl (Carla) but I really did enjoy getting some time just with Annie. Annie is so ridiculously chatty and sunny, her personality is shiny and bright as a new copper penny. She bursts with song, stories, and creativity. It can be a little daunting, I guess, for the uninitiated.

But luckily I am her Mommy. So I’m prepared to appreciate her endless prattle (oops, I mean, fabulous gift of the gab), as well as her harmonica playing (don’t knock it till you’ve heard it!), and she is quite the singer / songwriter. Said Annie, “Ok, Mom, I’m going to play you some harmonica songs now, and you’re going to have to listen, cause you’re my Mommy!” Can you say CAPTIVE AUDIENCE?

It was really fun actually, riding home from NY today in the car, with her in the backseat. We hit some rather heavy rain, and she decided that was because of Mother Nature crying her heart out over global warming, harmful pollution, and the passing of my Aunt Aileen.

She decided that the only way to calm Mother Nature’s nerves was to sing to her. So we sang. And we sang, and we sang some more. Singing in the Rain, Raindrops keep Fallin’ On my Head, Robin in the Rain, Yellow Submarine, Red Red Robin, Bushel and a Peck, Michael Row Your Boat Ashore, Her Majesty, Clementine, You are My Sunshine…. and more. I was so pleased to be able to remember the words, or most of them!

I actually really love singing in the car. (When Carla is in the car with me, she tells me to be quiet, that I give her a headache. Annie, by contrast, eggs me on, and sings along when she knows the words.)

Anyway, when we finally had passed through the cloud burst and out the other side, Mother Nature rewarded us mightily with a beautiful rainbow. The huge wonderful kind that any happy child colors over and over and over again in their notebooks. We sang our hearts out even more after that. It was really stunning. I kept having to make myself focus on the driving. So we sang even more. Rainbow Connection, Somewhere over the Rainbow, and LOTS of renditions of You Are My Sunshine.

Annie is really sensitive, in a lot of ways, but she’s also a pretty happy kid. Carla is more of a mystery to me, and keeps a lot of her thoughts to herself. When the three of us are together, the two of them interact MUCH more with each other than with me directly. I butt in to their little arguments when they get out of hand, or get on my nerves a bit much.

And so, it’s very nice to have had these individual times with each of them. I look forward to figuring out more ways to work individual attention time into our schedules. I feel much closer to each child, as a result of the time we spent together. This should not come as a surprise to me, but yet it does. It is really eye-opening to think that these children, as vital to me as they are, haven’t gotten much special Mom Time all year long, even though they are with me for hours. The poor dears have to share me, not only with each other, but also with a dozen or more of their peers.

I really must think about ways to make this better for them next year. Sigh.

My oldest aunt — my father’s sister– passed away last week. She’d been in and out of the hospital with chest pains, and her health was poor. She was also apparently botching her medications. There is some speculation among family members that she knew what she was doing with the medications, and may have been mis-using them on purpose.

Depression in the family is so rampant. I wonder who else is suffering? My Aunt Aileen could have probably lived a much longer life, but she was fairly poor, living on Social Security. She has little education.

In spite of her poor health, she loved her family above all else. A couple days before she died, I received an anniversary card from her, because she always remembered birthdays and anniversaries. She took care to make her own cards.

She had a great interest in genealogy. She sent me a packet in the mail a couple years ago, with family history information, and a request to give her information about our family that I might have, such as my kids birthdays, and so forth. I decided to do one better, and I found geni.com, a website where you can make elaborate family trees, and your family members can collaborate together online.

Aunt Aileen LOVED geni.com, and she worked very hard entering our family information there. Geni.com also gave her the ability to send email greetings for anniversaries and birthdays. This weekend, I received an email from my dead aunt.

Even in death, she remembered us. Spooky.

So tomorrow I am going to her funeral. Annie decided she wants to come along, while Carla isn’t going to. Carla is taking horseback riding lessons as a part of day camp, and I don’t want her to miss it. The funeral is in New York, so some travel is necessary. It’s odd that Annie wants to go, as she didn’t know Aileen at all.

I’ll be glad to have my little sunshine with me. She makes me happy in spite of with her constant cheerful chatter.

Annie (6) has a squishy hot pink pillow. It is a kid-sized pillow, meant to be put in a pillow case and used as one would a typical pillow on a bed. That’s not how she uses it, though. Pillow cases be damned, this cute hot pink pillow cannot be covered. And it’s not for putting your head on, silly. It’s for clinging to.

She lays down in bed, and takes the squishy thing into her arms and pulls it close to her. She squeezes it, and hugs it in a cozy and loving manner. This is what she calls “clinging” to the pillow. Sure, sometimes she takes the stuffed animal of her choice to bed with her, bestowing upon “Calico” (a cat), or “Cloe” (a bear), or
“Sammy” (penguin), or even sometimes “Steel” (a labrador puppy), her good graces and unmitigated kid love. But the hot pink pillow remains a constant in her bedtime clinging routine.

The other constant is wanting snuggles. From me, or if that’s not an option, Drob is another acceptable snuggler. Tonight she waited up for me to come give her snuggles. It was late; with my work schedule and such this week, we didn’t eat dinner until well after 8 PM, perhaps even after 9. We gorged ourselves on this fantastic rhubarb cobbler and Drob read from the chapter book we are currently engrossed in (Peter and the Star Catchers).

So it was quite late when bedtime came, about 10:15PM. I was bustling around (I’m in a really really good mood, though I can’t really say why) and I didn’t want to go snuggle right away. I figured that with how late it was, and what a long busy day, that her eyes would shut and she’d be out cold before her head even hit the pillow. Or at least as soon as she started to cling to her pink pillow.

She called out to me, from her room, however, asking for snuggles. I bustled five more minutes, wanting to get the most out of my unusually high energy level. Walking down the hall to put away some stuff in the linen closet, she heard my footsteps and called out to me again.

“I’m WAITing here, you know!”

I was very surprised that she was still awake. I finished putting away the sheets and towels and walked over to her room.

I laid down on her bed, and drew her into my arms. She was clinging her pillow, and I was enveloping her into my arms. She told me, “Ah! You’re clinging me!” I was, too, I was holding her in a tight kind of snuggle, all wrapped up safe and close in my arms. She had her pink pillow in her arms, cozy and secure. I realized that for her, the clinging she does to her pillow is a kind of replica of the kind of snuggles she wants from me.

“Mommies are better for clinging than pillows, I guess,” I told her. She answered, “yeah and they smell better than pillows, too.” This is not surprising, especially since her cling-pillow is one which doesn’t have a pillow case to keep it fresh!

I laid there, and held her as she fell asleep. In the dim light coming from the hallway, I could see her sweet features up close. Her eyes, closed, I could see her black eye lashes resting on her soft pink cheeks. I could see the tenderness of her clinging to her pillow, and watched as she slipped deeper into sleep. Her grip on the pillow relaxed– she was clearly getting some good rest.

How much longer will I be able to hold her and watch her fall asleep, content and safe in my arms? I am a little sad that I don’t still do this with Carla, her older sister. I think I still would snuggle Carla to sleep if only a) she didn’t have a loft bed or b) if she didn’t wet the bed. Carla is a kid who seems to want extra physical affection. She still loves to sit on my lap and get lots of hugs, and piggy back rides. I make a point of giving her the opportunity for physical closeness, because I know that eventually she’ll want more distance as she becomes more of a tween.

The tenderness of holding your child as she falls asleep is wonderful. I adore both of my girls tremendously, and I swell with pride at their many acheivements. It’s no wonder that the simple joy of watching them sleep still fills me with happiness.

I’m half way through the busiest two weeks of my year. This is when I am directing and teaching a summer camp. It is only for two weeks, but it is intense.

Last week’s camp theme was essentially Science & Art and the huge fun messes you can make in both. I had 14 kids in the group, ages 5 to 8. We explored flubber (a gooey mixture of Borax and Elmer’s Glue), baking soda and vinegar explosions, splatter painting, diet soda + mentos candy explosions, and more. It was fun. We also spent a good amount of time playing with the hose in the school yard. Reports back from parents indicated that the kids had a blast.

I was thinking about this whole experience, the intensity of it, the corresponding emotions that go with it. Last year was my first time ever doing a job of this level of intensity and responsibility with kids. Wait, no, that’s not true. I used to work in a daycare center where I was the Lead Teacher. I did that for about 10 months during graduate school. But the fact is, those were essentially BABIES, I mean, large toddlers are still babies really. My classroom back then was filled with little children, all between 18 months and two years old. The needs for activities for essentially pre-verbal children are quite different from working with a largely literate group of school aged children.

I put a tremendous amount of research and effort into last year’s camp. I was insanely anxious– filled with worry that kids wouldn’t like the camp, that I’d lose my patience, that there would be insanity and chaos, and that kids would be unhappy, bored, whiny, and above all complain to their parents and other teachers about my obvious lack of competence. And, in addition, my anxiety said in a whispered frantic tone to my pounding heart, more than likely I’d be fired when the kids under my care ended up being rushed to the ER due to my frank incompetence at even keeping them safe, let alone happy.

Wow. I think I suffered a similar bout of anxiety prior to this year’s camp, although I’d like to think that it was somewhat less intense. It’s important to note that last year’s camp was quite successful. None of the bad things I worried about actually happened. Kids came back to school in the fall and actually told me that the two weeks they spent with me were the best day camp weeks of their entire summer. Sure, they loved the swimming and field trips, and special programming featured at other camps, but it was the FUN and the comfort and the sheer joyfulness of camp with me that came back to them when they thought about what was good about camp.

So you’d think that I have nothing to worry about. Why so much anxiety? I don’t know, to be perfectly honest. I am now halfway through my camp experience for the year. The first week went very well. I love the group of kids I have– and I have a homogenous age group unlike last year’s wide age range. It is nice to be able to talk to them about what we’re going to do, they listen well (mostly!) and they seem to be cooperative (mostly!).

Next week our theme will be world travel. I haven’t picked all our activities yet, so this weekend I have to do a little shopping, and some planning. I love the idea of doing multicultural crafts, cooking, and activities. I got the idea to have each child make a passport for themselves, and then we’ll stamp them each time we “visit” another country.

I think it’s going to be a good week, fun and exhausting in many ways. Then… onto the summer. Hoorah!

Looks like I’m kind of deteriorating. It is very odd, for me.

I feel okay, not sad or anything. But also very low energy. I’m alright when I’m at work, doing my job in a reasonable manner.

But at home, I just kind of do nothing. I know I should do more. Even really basic things seem to be taking a huge effort. I am a little worried. I have a lot of work next week, as I’m running a summer camp. I have to plan all those activities, get materials, snacks, supplies, recipes, and all of that. I feel rather anxious about it, given how little motivation I seem to have for basic things like eating!

It is very weird. I feel fine. Not miserable, not self loathing, not suicidal. Just kind of Bleah. I guess things could be worse. I ought to get right to business, take advantage of all the time I have today. But here it’s after one in the afternoon, and I’m hungry. Haven’t eaten. Sitting in bed. Wasting time.

Hungry. Don’t want to face the messes around the house. Don’t want to deal with the logistics of food.

Definitely not a good sign. Not a great day.

I went to PennDOT today to get my photo taken for my driver’s license.

Now, I know, and you know, that driver’s license photos are always unflattering, right? But PennDOT is kind and wise, or maybe just kinda wise. They let you see your photo before it is printed on your license. You can do it over if you don’t like it. As much as you want.

My first try was awful. I’d tried to smile, and it just looked like gas, or something, and WHOAH, HELLO DOUBLE CHIN! Yikes! I asked her to do it over.

The second try was better, but also looked bizarre. Who is that crazy lady, was my first thought. Then I remembered, oh yeah, that’s me. The smile was kind of rictus-looking, but the chins were a little less obvious. The hair looked okay for a crazy lady.

On the other hand, a few nights ago I went out to a party* with Drob, and I got all dressed up. I even put body makeup on my boobages. Glittery boobages! I borrowed a swanky sexy red dress and did my hair and put on makeup. I can’t believe there are people who actually do that every day! Ok, not the dress, but the rest of it. Everyone told me I looked great (hot, beautiful, pretty, awesome, etc.) That was nice. Should have gotten my driver’s license photo done that night. Of course, that isn’t possible, and there’s something wrong about getting your driver’s license photo taken when you are stumbling around, having had too many mojito’s.

Still, and anyway, it’s good to know that I can clean up nice from time to time. I had the worst headache ever the next morning, but I don’t regret it at all. It’s not like I made out with random strangers and puked on my shoes. THAT would be a crazy party.

*Fundraiser for school! Does that count? Yes, it does, because I got kinda drunk and danced around in a distinctly undignified way.

Yesterday Drob told me he was concerned that I seemed “out of control.”

Oh, I thought, you noticed?

Only, I don’t know if “control” is the right word. I think maybe slightly out of order might be accurate. I don’t really feel right. I am not getting enough done, perhaps. Or I’m finding myself in these brain loops, my thoughts disorganized and swirl from one topic to another.

Last weekend I also stayed up all night and didn’t even feel tired. I felt perfectly alert and just kept doing housecleaning. I was doing very thorough cleaning. I cleaned WALLS and FLOORS. I scrubbed down places that hadn’t been cleaned, well, ever. I took down a dirty curtain from a window, washed it, was dissatisfied with the result, and then I attempted to dye it red. It came out pink, but I like it anyway.

Was that a manic night? I wonder? I did it because my mom was coming to visit. I did it because my house seemed to be so dingy and dirty. I did it because I was worried about Lucky, and rightly so, since he died a couple days later. I wanted to get my house to a comfortable state.

Now, we’re a few days later. The house is falling apart again. I guess this house really requires a daily vigilance, and for that, I don’t seem to have the where-with-all.

Daily laundry, daily dishes. What I’m doing instead? I’m thinking. I’m reading email. I’m relating to people. I’m thinking and planning for my job working with children. I’m researching projects for the summer camp I’m going to run. I’m wondering how to get more kids to sign up for camp. There’s much to think about– and my internal dialogue sometimes prevents me from getting things done in the real world.

This morning I didn’t feel like taking a shower. I’d taken one yesterday, and still felt perfectly clean. But D wanted me to shower– we used to always shower together. (Most couples do this, right?) I just wanted more sleep. Am I slacking in my hygeine? Is this a depression thing?

My real test for whether I am having bad depression problems is when thoughts of death go through my head. This hasn’t been happening, at least not like it did in the past. I have had fleeting death thoughts, like WHAT IF kind of thoughts, which are not the same as COME HITHER, OH GRIM REAPER or the sad, self-hating kind of I DESERVE TO DIE, I AM A VILE PIECE OF TRASH…. these thoughts have been unwelcome visitors to my mind in the past.

I am glad that I’m not thinking these kinds of thoughts, as they are very upsetting. I am mostly doing pretty well. A few times recently, however, I’ve found the kind of death thought showing up that run along the lines of “Oh, dear, it would be such a SHAME if I couldn’t go to work today, like, if I got run over by a bus because my shoelace was undone and I tripped and the bus driver happened to not notice me…..”

Or, “Gee, I sure hope my kitten wasn’t actually rabid and we didn’t know it…. he did bite me three times. I sure hope I don’t die from rabies. Who would teach in my place?”

These implausible, unlikely, and uncomfortable thoughts of death are quite fleeting. But are they a symptom of my depression worsening? I guess I could ask my doctor. Wouldn’t that be a revolutionary thought?

I just had my birthday recently; now I’m 36 years old. It isn’t one of those big milestone years like 30 or 40, and certainly not worthy of the huge and feisty debauchery that marks one’s twenty-first year. No, it’s just a quiet little nudge toward forty. And I took my quiet little birthday and spent it having my cat’s tail examined at the vet, and then running to see my kids in a talent show (they were awesome!) and then out to lunch and then zoom to work with a small group of kids, some of who are markedly talented at whining. I followed up my evening by having soup for dinner at my inlaws. I felt like collapsing into a heap, and I wanted to simply slip into a deep sleepy oblivion on the couch. Plus my feet hurt, which made me feel OLD.

Now that I am 36 years old, I’ve decided it’s time to really think hard about whether I want to end up wearing a tent for clothing or whether I want to do something now to prevent such a fate.

So as of this morning, I’m on a sugar strike. Which means I’m not eating sweets, except in extremely small amounts and in a furtive and sneaky way. Also: this coming Sunday I’m attending a birthday brunch and I’ll allow myself ONE piece of cake. I also decided that when served things like delicious homemade lasagna, I will be content with ONE piece rather than three; and I’ll have a big heaping salad rather than a token dash of greens.

Another way I’m cutting back on my intake of potentially fattening substances is to eat less of the tasty but high calorie foods I’m used to consuming. Two pancakes, not eight, and with a sprinkle of cinnamon sugar, not a huge pile of syrup. And a very modest smidgen of butter, not two generous pats.

To make up for these smaller portions, I need something yummy and quick. I discovered just the right thing, in my freezer! Yes, frozen peas! They are yummy straight from the freezer. Yup, I eat them FROZEN. They are sweet, cool, refreshing. They boast fiber and protein, and are low calorie.

WEIRD, but hey, if it works? Why not? I am also a big fan of edamame, those green soy beans. They make a tasty snack, but I don’t like them frozen, I like them hot, and with sea salt.

Does anyone else out there have a WEiRD but somehow yummy or satisfying diet food?