I’ve been a little reluctant to post a new post after that sweet, sweet letter that D wrote me. I just kept coming back to my blog and re-reading it. I know that I am loved. I will be fine. We’ll get through, it, whatever it may be.

Yet life and its insecurities rage on. I don’t know if it’s safe to write about using illegal drugs on one’s blog, no matter how anonymous it is (and this one’s not all that successful at anonymity!) So I am only going to say this: that if I were to be the sort of gal who enjoys a puff or two of a relaxing kind of smoke from time to time when the kiddos are safely put away on their shelves, then now would be a pretty good time to seek such relaxation.

In fact, D and I are both pretty anxious right now. I hadn’t mentioned this before (probably because of denial, shame, or whatever) but we’re being sued by the lovely city of brotherly love. It’s because apparently our accountant made a mistake on our 2001, or maybe it was our 2002, tax returns. It seems that our city taxes were not filed, or not filed properly.

Since I’m someone whose eyes glaze over and ears seemed stuffed with fluff whenever taxes are discussed, I honestly don’t fully get what happened, or when, or why. I just know that our tax situation requires that a (new) professional accountant deal with it. In order to avoid the $5000 fine and being required to appear at a hearing, the city requires that we file (or re-file, if it was filed) no later than three days before the hearing. If we do, the hearing’s cancelled, the $5000 fine is avoided.

The hearing is August 11. When we’re in upstate NY on vacation. Talking to the accountant’s office today, he said they’d get right to it and work on our taxes. Um… please hurry the fuck up, ok? I mentioned to the clerk I spoke with that there’s this little $5000 fine we’re trying to avoid, and the little lawsuit we’re trying to have dropped… and the best he could say is that they’re going to get started on it right away.

Anxiety much? Now you can understand why I might just be interested in something that might take the edge off. Ease the freak-out a little.

I am also anxious about packing for our vacation (remember my little problem with packing for a ONE NIGHT STAY recently? Well how’s about a two week trip to the middle of nowhere NY where you have to drive 30 miles to get anywhere civilized?) I am perhaps equally anxious about preparing for next year and working as the after school teacher at this wonderful little school. It’s like being pregnant in a way. You get to this point where you suddenly remember OH SHIT! I’M GOING TO GIVE BIRTH! AM I READY FOR THIS?

The fact is I am NOT ready. I am far from ready. I also am not feeling ready for the simple daily life functions of getting my kids up daily, dressed, fed and out the door to go to school on time each day. I am not ready to pay my business bills, either. I really need to do much more, or else face serious consequences.

It’s also 11:52 AM and I am not ready to feed my kids their lunch today. I didn’t get them an adequate breakfast, yet, either, though they both ate something.

And here I am just lolling in anxiety to the point where I wonder if it would be a good idea to take part in some kind of relaxing herbal refreshment (what my pals and I sometimes called it when we were teens).

I need to get my shit together. Perhaps the first thing to do is get dressed and go buy some food. I’ll need some snacks later on if I go with the whole herbal refreshment plan, anyway.

Oh yea, right, wowser, sure. Forgot to mention that my NIECES are coming to visit me. In about, say, an hour! They were supposed to be dropped off tomorrow but that plan was changed (WITHOUT consulting poor, exhausted me).

Ok, so I have to deal.

I will.

On another topic. Cammy gave me a really cute dress! I was just reading somewhere about how having a nice new dress can make you feel so good.  It’s true!

Here’s me in the dress.  I wore it when D and I went out to see a play last night.

Me, I’m tired. I’m not making much sense … and I have some websites to update tonight. Not happy about this, but I will just have to deal.

I will. Somehow .

OH yeah, and yesterday I was offered the After School Director job for next year. Yay! I’m currently trying to negotiate the terms of it a little bit. I think the whole camp thing is fun, but it’s a full time job, albeit a very short term full time job. I do not feel it’s reasonable to require a part time employee to work full time for two weeks each year, without any additional compensation. I kind of doubt my negotiation will be successful. These folks are a) stubborn and b) broke. The school really doesn’t have much to throw around.

Week 1 of camp is complete, and I think it was successful in virtually every way.  The repercussions of having put such an intense amount of energy into my work this week? Exhaustion, relief, sunburn suntan.

I had a really good assistant, Marta:  a young teacher who has recently trained with one of my favorite teachers at the same school where I’m running day camp.  Marta is a funky and cute young woman with a nose ring. The kind of nose ring that goes through the middle of your nose, as in, between the nostrils.  Yeah, so she’s not only sweet with the kids, but cool, too! It was really nice having her youthful energy, and she’s clearly trained well as I see her mentor’s approach within her teaching.

Alas, Marta can’t return for week 2, and instead I’ll have another parent whom I know come and help out. She’s experienced, too, but the only real drawback is she’ll bring along her two kids as well (just like I do). Her kids are … a handful, shall we say?

But aside from a bit of shopping over the weekend, I feel pretty ready for this second week of camp. Week 1 went well, and there is a core group of kids who will be with us again next week and their behaviors are pretty good and the routine we established seems to work.

Bye-bye pit of tension. Hello exhaustion!

Day 1 and Day 2 of the two-week summer camp that I’m running are over. So far, so good.

I spent most of the weekend shopping for supplies and food, but did get a chance to put cucumber plants into my garden; and I also had the chance to swim which was lovely. The weather is simply beastly!

In fact, it’s been so hot that public schools closed early yesterday and today, due to high heat advisory. My camp, however, is BLESSED with air conditioning in the main classroom, and a hose and kiddie pool out in the shady backyard, so we were able to squeak through without anyone getting overheated.

It has been pretty fun and relaxed; much of my anxiety was relieved once I’d gotten my supplies and readied the classroom. One nice thing about the current set up is that I get to prepare my classroom in advance — that is something I can’t do for the after school program because the room is used for other purposes through the regular school day.

The heat wave is having a negative effect on other parts of my life: who wants to cook or clean in this heat? Thus, the home is rather a mess. But who cares anyway? We are camped out in the air conditioned bedroom. After three days of putting up with the extreme heat, last night D and I decided to go with air this summer.

We’d made it through last summer without using our air AT ALL. Not this year. It seems like it will be an extremely hot summer, if today is any indication.

For now, though, at least I am starting to feel like I can relax a little bit… until Saturday when my nieces come to visit and spend the night! Yikes ! Gotta get this house cleaned up by then!

The whole middle of my body, from somewhere near my ribs down to my belly button feels like its filled with some kind of heavy, dangerous substance. I have to hold myself steady to keep it from tipping out of my in some way. My hair is screwed onto my head. My arms are clenched and ready. My eyes are weary but wary. My heart feels like it is doing a loop-dee-lou, racing around, while I wonder if I should sit or stand, walk or lay down, write this blog post or make a list of things to do.

Anxiety.

I am anxious about the camp I’m supposed to teach in just a few short days. I am not prepared at all. I don’t have the materials for it yet. I don’t have the snacks. I don’t even have all the activities planned. In fact, a lot of people who’d expressed interest in going to camp are now saying their kid won’t come. So I don’t even know if this is going to work for the school, as in financially. Which was a condition of offering the damn camp in the first place.

I have to confess I really don’t think I want to do this. I am really afraid of failing. I’m afraid it will go badly, and then I could really not get the job for next year.

The Personnel Committee has still not met with me to discuss anything about next year; the staff didn’t say peep, either. So day to day (and this is the last week of school: TWO days left of me teaching after school), I am unsure about my future. Will I have this job in the fall? Are they waiting to see if I do well in the camp program before considering me for the job?

They could just decide to tell me that they aren’t going to re-hire me for next year and that they’re doing a new job search and I need not apply. That’s how unsure I feel. That’s how anxious. Pit of Tension in stomach, lump in throat.

AND YET. And yet, tonight I went to the eighth grade graduation ceremony, which was incredibly sweet. I cried a little for each and every graduate, out of the feelings of love so evident in the comments of the parents, friends and staff. This school really is wonderful in so many ways. It feels more like a church than a school; it’s a community of people who share certain values and work together to raise their kids into beautiful people.

The graduation ceremony left NO ONE out. I even got a rose! I was SO shocked to be appreciated publicly, not just once, but twice! One of the parents took great care to acknowledge the after school teachers (3 of them, including me, who ran the program during her children’s time at the school) and to recognized each by name and to thank each of us for giving her kids a safe and comfortable home after school.

And then there was a part of the ceremony where the graduates gave a rose to each current staff member, even office staff, and spoke a sentence or two about the contributions and efforts of each member. Including me. Yes, including me. I was so touched to be included.

I’d been sitting there, in the back row, with tears streaming down my face, overwhelmed with emotion about all the love these kids are surrounded by. When suddenly I heard my name — and was so surprised. I did NOT see it coming at all. It was clear to me that even though it’s been only a few short weeks, I am making an impact on the lives of kids and their families. To be appreciated publicly? That is such an unusual feeling for me– usually I feel I am on the outside looking in, or else hidden from view. Ignored or overlooked, or generally taken for granted.

In spite of the kindness and the inclusion of today, I also sat there watching the other teachers. I sat alone. They all had each other. They are a group, and I am not really a part. They are full time, while my job is part time. They all have staff meetings together: I can’t go to the meetings most of the time, since I am watching the kids in after school. My personality doesn’t do well with feeling left out — I am just not quite secure enough for that.

Plus, apparently with all the people around, I got distracted and must have left the window open in the room where I teach, because one of the lead teachers kind of scolded me about it just before graduation. The school wasn’t empty when I left it to walk over to the other building where graduation was taking place — and this must have distracted me from doing my usual doors and windows check. Figures that the one day I forget, this particularly strong teacher would notice and take the time and energy at graduation to scold me. It left my stomach feeling, well, like it does now.

I’m filled with dread. Do I get to keep this job or not? It is so hard being left in the dark on this issue, with the ambiguity continuing and continuing. And every day that I work in the job, I’m trying to do a good job but I’m also so nervous. I feel like I’m being watched and judged. And camp is the final exam.

There’s so much going on, I want to scream. There are end-of-year potlocks to prepare for, and when will I do that? I have from 9:30 am tomorrow morning, until about 2 PM when I have to head to work to: prepare for two potlocks, buy supplies for camp, buy snacks for camp, plus take care of the usual things I have to take care of. I am overwhelmed and miserable.

And I don’t even know if I’m wanted for this job for next year!

And I’m working for two weeks from 9 am to 5:30 pm FOR NO ADDITIONAL PAY even though I have NO ACTUAL OBLIGATION TO DO SO. But I feel I was pressured into it: If I didn’t do it, they’d have even more reason to NOT re-hire me for next year. So I am trying to be good, and do it, and do it well, and cope and manage it all.

Pit of tension. Super pit.

They Love Me. They Love Me Not. They Love Me. They Love Me Not. Well, what is it?

It has been said that bloggers are the new voices of opinion. I use the fabulously passive voice here (it has been said) so as to avoid having to justify my own claims. Information flows fast and furious, and we all get to say whatever we want.

Our thoughts are neatly inscribed on the eyeballs of a few friends or maybe a dozens of casually interested strangers. What fun to think that some power can be had just by typing up my opinions!

But want to know what’s even MORE fun? Participating in a telephone poll! I was (randomly?) chosen to be part of a poll of some kind and just got off the phone. It was clearly designed to be answered by someone who’s not yet really quite decided for whom they’ll vote.  Part of the survey was to ask me to react to statements about John McCain and see if they would “put doubt in my mind” about McCain.

Hah! Funny! I have no doubt about McCain at all. Why, I would absolutely NEVER vote for the guy, so there’s no doubt here at all!

Here are some of the points raised by the pollster:

- McCain is too old to be president (I didn’t agree, because I don’t care that he’s 72 and a skin cancer survivor, I just don’t think he should be in office due to his political beliefs.)

- McCain has a nasty temper and is easily ticked off (Oh really? All the more reason to keep this guy the hell away from the trigger!)

-McCain admits he doesn’t know anything about the economy or domestic issues, but is really only focused on foreign affairs (well, shoot! That pretty much disqualifies you from being the president, dude. Sorry!)

-McCain is even more of a war hawk than Bush. He wants to keep a permanent occupation of Iraq, and will likely want to bomb, bomb, bomb, Bomb, Bomb Iran! (Um, no thanks. I don’t really like the continual killing, I’d prefer less killing with my presidency, thanks.)

So, asks the pollster, do these statements put any doubt in your mind about McCain?

“No,” I answered, “none at all. I have no doubt that he’s a total bastard and should be kept as far away from the Oval Office as possible.”

I think I seriously entertained the interviewer — she thanked me and said it was very enjoyable talking to me today.

I expect that as time goes by, more Americans will also agree with my lack of doubt about McCain.

1) obsess over small details for non-urgent projects. Example: you might want to rearrange the rocks in your bonsai fountain, or carefully shine your tea kettle.

2) note that your feet are chilly: solve problem by putting them under blanket. In bed.

3) stare dejectedly at large pile of clutter, rather than, say, going through it looking for lost library item.

4) make a careful list of things to do, place it on dresser. Pick up laptop, write blog post about procrastination.

I was thinking just now about how Carla is getting pretty co-operative about things she used to be downright impossible about. Like teeth brushing, for example.

C has had a rough time in this life as far as dental health goes. I blame it all on the fact that when she had her first trouble with cavities, we were broke and had lost our good dental insurance. Having no money, we turned to our new insurance for referrals within their network. We ended up with Dr. Nightmare and followed up with severe emotional trauma followed by months of therapy and now, years later, I think we are still feeling the pinch. The fillings that Dr. Nightmare so clumsily blasted into her three year old mouth are now cracking and needing replacement.  Still lacking good dental insurance, but now having learned our lesson about going to the in network option, we now pay, um, through the teeth. Our new dentist is an angel, and worth every penny– but that doesn’t stop Carla from thinking hard about her teeth and how they got that way.

She still sometimes mentions Dr. Nightmare, enough that his name has become a household name with enough villainy to it to put him in the same camp as George W. Bush.  Annie agrees heartily, even though she’s never even met the evil dentist (nor Dubya, for that matter.)

When it’s time to brush her teeth, and to floss them, she opens her mouth up willingly for me; she lets me at them. I do the best that I can.  But I am waiting for the thoughts to click into place…. At what point might she turn on me and ask how come I didn’t take better care of her teeth in the first place?

Which I ask myself, too. Though I DID start brushing her teeth daily once she even had teeth. I did what was recommended of me, even when she was a rebellious two year old.  She also nursed a lot, up until she was weaned at age two and a half.

Here I am, FIVE YEARS LATER, wondering HOW COULD I LET MY CHILD GET CAVITIES? And then further make the mistake of letting some A-Hole Dentist butcher her up. I STILL ACHE about this. I still doubt my abilities to protect her. To brush her teeth well enough.

And not just teeth, either. There’s the million and one things a mom’s supposed to do. What if I fail at another thing, and another? She’s on antibiotics this week as a preventative against the rare and unlikely complication of rheumatic fever as a result of an untreated strep infection.  We’ve missed some doses, and she knows this.

She stares hard at me and asks, shouldn’t she just take the missed dose together with her next one? I know that’s not how you’re supposed to deal with missed doses and I tell her so. The wheels in her mind are turning and turning, though.  I think she is disappointed in me– if taking medicine is important then how could I have missed giving her a dose?

Well, how could I?

Can someone toss me a rope down here, cuz I think I need something to grab onto. I wonder how I managed to mess up her teeth. What if she gets rheumatic fever. What if I don’t tell her about STD’s soon enough. What if I miss her prom. What if. What. if. What. What. What. If. If. If.

What if I to bed now and catch up on some sleep? Clearly, I am losing my mind.

Or, more likely, it was already gone. (see previous post).

PS… it turns out my first share of veggies will come next monday; and fruit in about three weeks or so. Will keep you posted.

I have been thinking a lot about my brother and about my sister.

Those who’ve been following my story know that I have an uneasy relationship with my brother, whom I grew up with, and a brand-new unknown relationship with my half sister, whom I have never met.

Prior to talking with my sister on the phone, and exchanging some email and photos, I never really realized how sad it is that my brother and I are not close. One visitor to my blog pointed out that I should consider my relationship with my sister in light of my relationship with my brother (or something like that.) This made my whole perspective shift dramatically: I had not thought to consider the two of them as “my siblings” before. In other words, I had drawn truly no connections there.

Starting to mull things over, I find it really disconcerting to think of how much I’ve lost since childhood. My half sister is someone I simply never had access to; a strange decision born of the times in which she lived as a young child. Those were the days when “doing what’s best” meant avoid complex family configurations like bio dads and step families. So I don’t count her as a loss, so much as an opportunity for connection that was denied.

But to really consider what I’ve lost since childhood, I could make you a sad long list. My brother and I were very close at the time he left for college.  His issues with depression came to light as a teenager, and continue to this day. As his younger sister, a full five years behind him, I was not in any reasonable position to help him, but I knew that he needed help. I thought (as twelve year olds, and other people, tend to do) that by loving my brother as much as I did, that I could heal him of whatever sadness or anger he was feeling.  My clueless parents, at a loss as to how to help him either, thought that sending his little sister in to “talk with him” when he was feeling suicidal was a good way to help him feel better, since he wouldn’t talk to them at all.

In spite of his emotional troubles, he was able to use his smarts to finish high school, and get into college.  Off he went, and leaving me behind of course, and soon little sister was easily replaced by college pals, girlfriends, marijuana and jazz. We lost touch, and I supposed he no longer needed a little sister to love him, or bake him apple pies when he came home to visit, or to follow him around and bother him when he was showing his visiting college girlfriends around the town.

I was also quite busy by then, learning how to be a holy terror teenager myself, as my parents picked that time to decide to split up in the most agonizing ways they could think of, with my dad slinking off to sleep somewhere other than my parents’ room. First, he colonized my brother’s empty bedroom, then trudged downstairs to the basement guest room. Finally, as my grandparents died, he crossed the street to live in their house “in order to fix it up and clean it out.”

And so it was that within the course of a few years, I lost my brother (to college - 1985), my parents (to their self-absorbed separation / divorce - begun in 1986 and finalized in 1992), and my grandparents (died in 1988, and 1989).  Plus, my best friend’s family moved to Germany (1987). I really cried when she told me they were moving away, it seemed so unfair.

Fast forward to now. My dad’s health is less than stellar. My mom drives me insane. I speak to my brother about twice a year. And I want to connect with my half sister — Why?

I don’t really know what I expected to gain from this. Did I track her down for my father’s benefit, or mine? If I want so much to connect with family, why am I also so estranged from the ones that I actually know?

I spoke to my brother for the first time this year on Easter. His wife is apparently recovering from major surgery,  and their family is doing their best to adjust to life in which the mom of the house is significantly disabled (temporarily - it is hoped she’ll be able to recover fully within 6 months or so). I feel very sad for my nieces and nephew, and for my brother, that life is so difficult for them right now.

I find myself thinking, “What can I do? What should I do? How can I help my brother?” It’s a familiar and painful feeling. I think I’ll send them a care package, at least. In the long run, I can’t help him, really — his life is what it is. He and I are very different and his choices have molded him so extremely.  We grew up together, but then, apart.

Did you ever see the Muppet movie in which Gonzo is contacted by his alien relatives and he finds out that he’s not really alone like he thought he was? I think my hopes concerning my sister were something like that. That I would find this long lost sister and learn that there’s a reasonable, creative, kind and interesting person in my family who is something like me.

Is that so much to ask?

I have not been writing very much lately. It’s not for lack of thinking about it, though. I have a lot of different things I’d like to write about, but my mind is feeling scrambled.

I did get back on my meds, which is of course a very good thing: but I think I am not quite myself yet. It’s funny how at one time I really felt opposed to taking any anti-depressants, for fear they would erase that part of me which is me. It could not have been farther from the truth: they actually just take away that part of me that is NOT me, the depression that I mistook for a part of myself.

Have you ever had to deal with someone who isn’t rational? (well, who hasn’t??) Being depressed (for me) is like dealing with an annoying irrational person all the time, one you can’t get away from, and it’s yourself. Yeah, annoying as hell. Plus, I get extremely irritable. I mean, really anything at all can make me feel annoyed (including myself).

Things that are usually cute or sweet: a hug from a child, a caress from D, a cute little trick that a child wants to do to show off. Instead of reacting in a pleased and friendly way, my internal irritation is extreme. Get off of me, I think. Go away. Stop it.

Because I know these reactions are NOT what’s expected of me, and I don’t even like myself for reacting that way, I try to cover them up, but really I doubt that I fool anyone.

I hate depression. It’s a lot better than say, cancer, or schizophrenia, of course. But it is its own kind of hell, and it feels like it will always be there, lurking.

Right now, though, I am not terribly depressed, but maybe a little under the weather. I want so much for it to be warm, sunny, and I want to be out in the garden, amending the soil, building some new plant beds, checking on my tulips and other bulb plants. Instead it’s raining, and I have been spending way too much time on the computer (and this blog post might just be one of the most productive moments of all the computer time I have spent.).

This wasn’t the blog post I thought would arise from my title “Spring Break Musings.” What I thought I’d write about would be the baby quilt I’d like to make, the plants I would plant if I’d gotten the new beds made, the program I want to create for the summer camp I’ll apparently be running. Instead, here I am nattering on and on about depression.

A nap might just be the ticket, but I have to go to my mother-in-law’s house and tinker around with her dead PC. Joy, rapture, bliss. Then again, maybe we can get dinner there, which would cheer me up, as well as getting out of the house.

Another good remedy: shower. Oh the brilliant ideas that arise when we blog!