Rapid-fire Tragedy

It feels like there is no recovery time in global tragedy occurrences anymore. Im not sure whether that is an accurate observation or not. It feels that way to me. Maybe the media and technology have really created the lack of lull. Im not totally convinced of that though either.  It could be me.  Maybe Im too sensitive.  Current Events Sensitive?  Newsly Challenged?  Every little quirk has a title these days so we feel less nutty and more like we have a problem so real that it had to be named.

Looking back a to 9/11, it felt like that horrible moment happened and then we were allowed time to heal, or at least try to. As I've mentioned before,  there was no shortage of media coverage after the United States was attacked. If they ran out of things to cover here, they went abroad to investigate what other countries thought about our situation, or what the terrorists were all about and what fed their hatred of us. But it still felt like we had time to process what had happened.

Over a decade later we have non stop tragedy, complete with "filler". There was the Sandy Hook School shootings, followed by the Boston Marathon bombing, and then the mass destruction of the tornado in Moore Oklahoma. In between, we had Jody Arias' sick and twisted love affair/murder trial, the rescue of the three girls who were kidnapped ten years ago in Cleveland, random women being raped on mass transit in India, our President receiving mail with hazardous chemicals, banks crashing in Cyprus, the ongoing battle about gun control and, most recently, the train wreck called Amanda Bynes, which is sad for her and pathetically desperate of the media. (That last one was added just to see if you were paying attention.....there will be a quiz on this later which will account for 25% of your grade)

When do we get a break?

My mother, husband and I don't watch the news. I catch up on the news that I can handle by reading it on line. I know that this is the right thing for me. It was confirmed months ago when I sat down with my step father and the news was on tv. After watching for literally fifteen seconds, I was haunted for weeks by the visual of how Syrian children were being used as weapons during the country's current conflict.

I know we all need to be aware of whats going on around us. We all have the right to however much information we want or dont want. But when is it considered too much? Do we risk desensitizing ourselves? Are we making ourselves more anxious and neurotic by having all of this information? Is this awareness instilling more fears?

Fear can be paralyzing. I know because deep down, after hearing all of this, I want to live in my own little bubble with my family. I want Allie to be with us all of the time so I can protect her. My greatest fear is for something to happen to her where our precious life with her will be forever changed. Im afraid that she will be hurt, or get sick or worse. Some things, like certain illnesses, you can't protect anyone from. But there are those other things that you always hear "if only I had ___________, he'd still be alive." Preventative measures that went undiscovered until it was too late. I just want to hold her and hug her and keep her near me always. I want to keep the hatred, destruction and death out.  The media seems to keep all of it on our doorstep.

But I know that bubble is not possible. Well, actually it IS possible but completely unhealthy. And a bit weird. Everyone has had neighbors at some point in their life where they said, "We never see those people. Never. I don't think they ever leave the house." I seriously can't imagine that being us with my big mouth, Justin's propensity to talk to everyone who speaks English that comes in earshot, and Allie's constant inviting of people to "Come over. Hi. Come over, please. Hello?"

With that being said, I want to end this post on a light and barely relevant topic. I feel obligated to go light and airy for some reason.

Just a little visual to give you a giggle. When we went on our honeymoon, I was sick. Like very flu-ish. There was some virus going around called "the swine flu" (f*#king fantastic name for a chubby sick girl, right?) and I guess I had it. When we landed in Aruba, my ears were clogged for about 36hours. It was probably the only time Justin has ever heard me speak in a calm, quiet tone for many consecutive hours. Why? Because I was so damn loud inside my head! I heard myself as if I was screaming everything.

Anyway, we decided to rent a car the second day and a local picked us up and gave us a crash course on what the signs meant and where things were. The minute I saw this guy jabbering away to Justin in the front seat, I panicked. Why, you ask? Justin only speaks American English (see, here's how I made this story "barely relevant" to the topic above), and when he hears an accent he hears every third word.

I, however, worked at a limo company where if you met someone who didnt have an accent, it was considered odd. I struggled A LOT but I did eventually learn how to understand people with accents. BUT, in this story, Im hearing impaired, remember? I was trying to read the driver's lips in the rear view mirror but he was throwing us around with his crazy driving.

We got out of the car, smiling, and when we finished the rental paper work and got back in to drive, I asked, "How do we get back? Which way did he say to go?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? How could you not ask? He was rambling the entire time. He didnt mention anything??"

"Yes. Maybe. Probably.........He had an accent."

Enough said. What a pair we were. He couldn't understand because of the accent and I couldn't hear squat because of the swine flu. By the last day, we were finally able to find our way around. We got trapped in many traffic circles for way too long. And we still have no idea what this means:

Pain....and Forgetting A Witty Title

I had a completely different entry ready to go, but I need to put it on the back burner to address my current situation.  And this should be fun because I'm all boogered up on Percoset right now so who knows what this will look like tomorrow.

I'm annoyed by my stupidity.  I'm more annoyed by my ankle weakness.....or as the medical peeps call it "chronic ankle instability".  I've got two things on this body that are thin..... my wrists and my ankles. It seems as though my ankles will go to extremes to try to join the club that the chubby body parts are in.  They have a direct link to the part of my brain that is responsible for stupid decisions, which is how they manage to make it to the "chubby side" from time to time.

On Wednesday evening I was playing Hide and Go Seek with Miss Alliepants.  I was the hider and she was the seeker.  The problem is that she's an extremely fast counter.  She went into the bathroom to count and it sounded like this "One....two.....tree......fourfivesixsebeneightnineTEN!  Ready not here I come!"  As soon as the counting commenced, I started hauling ass to find a hiding spot.

Somewhere around "seben", I leaped into the air and everything went south.

Sadie was laying in my path.  She was sprawled out on her side and I would've sworn she was asleep.  Rather than run around her, I thought I'd hurdle over the dog.  Right after my launch, Sadie's Spidey-Senses kicked in and she jumped up.  My left foot hooked onto her back and I landed on my right ankle.  And just to confirm the decision that I should've picked another route, I went flying head first into the front door.  There should've been a Vicki-shaped hole there.

I rolled around on the floor holding my ankle with one hand and my head with another.  Allie came running over yelling, "I find you!  I find you!"  After assessing my actions, she asked, "Why Mommy laughing so hard?" 

Somehow I spit out, "Mommy isn't laughing.  I hurt myself."  It was like someone flipped a switch and suddenly she was standing over me crying, too.

I'll save the rest of the drama and summarize it by saying that when Justin got home I was sitting on the couch with an ice pack, trying to entertain Allie from the couch, and my ankle looked like it was replaced by a tennis ball.

I am a self professed spazz.  When I fall or crash into things, I do it in a big way.  About 8 years ago I spent two summer months with a cast on my ankle from twisting it three times.  Three times.  To make matters worse, I also had a shitload of worn out left shoes and matching brand new right shoes.... and you KNOW how I feel about shoes!  True to form, I have accomplished ultimate spazzdom once again, trying to hurdle my dog while playing with a two year old.

Later that night, I took a Percoset on Justin's urging.  Between the crying and bitchiness ("How will I do my job!?  Don't tell me not to worry!  You think you have this all figured out, don't you?!") I think he was pretty desperate to "lighten my mood".  It lightened my mood alright.  My mom had to drive me to my late night appointment because operating a vehicle sounded a bit too complicated.  I spent an inordinate amount of time imitating my daughter's speech patterns.  Asking my husband what he was doing every three minutes seemed entertaining, especially when I incorporated the previously mentioned bit of silliness every sixty seconds by saying, "Allie....what Daddy have?"

Silliness gave way to nausea, dizziness and itchiness.  I started to feel like a junkie.  At 3am I was scratching things that never itched before, like my eye lids and underneath my fingernails.  And I really couldn't believe that I had skin left the next morning.  I expected to wake up looking like I had a serious case of road rash all over my body.  Nope!  I was fine.

Well, tonight things are worse.  I have oodles of pain and no silliness.  Even the little dog feels bad for me..... and she can't stand me.  I'm on my second Percoset in two hours and I'm going to wrap this up because I keep forgetting my point and the scratching is interfering with my typing.  My palms are even itchy.  My apologies for this aimless rant.  Hopefully tomorrow I'll feel better.....or at least have a doctor's opinion as to why I don't.  I'm aiming for the first one. Wish me luck.  

Older And Wiser

Until recently I felt like a 20 year old. Then along came 40. Now I feel like I'm sliding into "growing up", which I honestly thought was never going to come. Actually, 39 was a pretty good warm up period for this big transition.

There are a lot of benefits to this milestone, so I don't want to scare anyone who isn't there yet. It's not like you wake up, almost forty, and things start falling off or breaking. It's more like a trade. And it's pretty even. This isn't an all-star quarterback for three nearly-shitty ones. Terry Bradshaw caliber benefits traded for Joe Montana caliber benefits. Both have pluses but they aren't the same.

For instance, my eyes started crapping out on me around 38. I was already blind as a bat without contacts, but suddenly this "dry eye" thing starting attacking my eyes and I had to get glasses with a stronger prescription. Dry eye? I blink! Wtf??? No explanation. It just happened and I'm not pleased.

My gums started receding. WHAAAATTT?? Bad, bad, bad. My mom spent a fortune for these teeth to be aligned so perfectly that every dentist I've been to exclaims, "Wow. Your teeth are gorgeous. Did you have braces??? Who did this?" Ive had dentists call other people in to oogle my chompers. Suddenly, I'm being told "You brush too much. You need an electric toothbrush to keep you from being so vigorous." I brush too much??? And too vigorously??? Years and years of "you need to brush and floss!!" and suddenly I hit a point where I needed to cut back. No one saw it coming? Forty hit and my gums decided they were going to rebel.

My boobs....well, I'm not going to go there. If you have them, you know what happens, especially after having kids. It's not nice. I wore bras to bed as a young person to try and maintain their youthfulness. Suddenly, they betray me. The back pain for 24 years wasn't enough abuse, breasteses?

My knees crack when I walk up the stairs. My skin has age spots. My hair is blah. Etc. etc. etc. etc. UGH.

What did I gain, you ask?

I'VE GAINED SOME SMARTS SINCE THESE DAYS!
(Little ole me.... when life was good and worry-free)

I learned that drama is bad and now I work on avoiding it and the people who create it. All of that stress thru my teens and 20's could've been avoided if I was able to determine what as drama and what was a real problem. Now I see younger people wrapped up in it and I smile and shake my head just like people did to me. 'Youre wasting time, you poor fool,' I think.

Speaking of wasting time, I appreciate it so much more now. I get more done in an hour now than I did in ten hours in my 20s. I know that a lot of that awareness was brought on by parenthood, but I see young mothers who are almost at a geezer level of efficiency, but not quite as good at budgeting their time. When you're young you think you have forever to get things done. When you're 40 you hear about people just a few years older than you dying from unexpected stuff, and then you think 'treat every day like its your last!' Time is cherished stuff.

Sensible shoes. The first time a podiatrist told me I needed to wear sensible shoes, I wanted to die. I love shoes. I have a shoe wall that my husband built to accommodate my shoes and display them so I can appreciate them all at once. Sensible ones were the kiss of fashion death when I was younger. Now I look like everyone else my age and we all don't give a shit what's on each others' feet unless they are super pretty shoes. Now we appreciate the foot apparel of our peers rather than critique it.

Money smarts come with age. Some people only get so far, but I think we all improve to a point. The crap I wasted money on twenty, fifteen or ten years ago makes me so angry. My parents taught us financial responsibility, yet I still had moments of stupidity. For instance......people don't need enough shoes to fill a wall when they are struggling to pay bills (yes, I self criticized there). Hence, why I haven't bought unnecessary shoes in years. (sob! tissue please!) Also, if you don't have the same amount of money saved In the bank that you just spent on your vacation YOU SHOULDN'T BE GOING ON THAT VACATION. And if that car payment seems stressful, you're buying the wrong car. It goes on and on.  Confucius say 'Live within your means and find serenity.'

(Side note: your parents aren't a bank or a hotel. You should only be living with them or borrowing money from them if you are down on your luck or saving for something like a house or education. And if you have a fancy car, expensive wardrobe and money to go out more than once a week, consider yourself a drain on your parents!!!  And p.s., your friends and family ARE talking about you behind your back.)

Therapy is smart.  If you aren't happy and don't know how to get there, you need therapy. We thought we knew everything before 30. Turns out we actually know nothing and its all guess work. If you've been guessing poorly about how to find happiness, you're probably miserable. Howard Stern is worth hundreds of millions and he sees a therapist multiple times a week for guidance. Therapy isn't "only for life losers". You're only a loser if you need help and still don't ask.

Last, but not least, and definitely not the end, is REALITY. This is my favorite learning lesson. As a child and teenager some things happened.  It's called life.  Some of it was surely good and maybe some of it was horrible. However, as we enter our twenties, we try to make sense of the things that happened and why we are the person we are becoming.

Here's the exciting part!

It's totally skewed. Along the way, most of us made unhappy things seem worse to explain or excuse our behavior. EVERYONE did it!!  It happens partially because you're trying to cope with your mental shit, and partially a result of ...... don't get mad...... I did it too.....immaturity and self-aggrandizing (click on that last word if you don't know it and you'll get the definition). I wish someone had told me I was doing this back then. I kept diaries and and they helped me remember what REALLY happened. Even if what I wrote wasn't an accurate account of what happened, it helped me SEE the truth later. I will encourage Allie to do keep journals for this reason alone. The benefits are huge between encouraging creativity and providing yourself with a reference of life events. You can be honest with yourself later if you can't quite do it then.

By the way, I owe the Vicki History Reference Materials (a/k/a the piles of journals) and my love of writing about stuff to my Mom. Even when I think I stink at it, she always finds some way to make me feel confident about what I've done and what I might be able to do. I can dig a hole, life can shove me in it, and everything will feel hopeless.....but my mom is always hanging over the edge with a rope yelling, "Grab on, my beloved child! I love you, I believe in you and you're valuable!..... And seeing you in this predicament, I'm quite sure now that it was the whole pie I ate one night when I was pregnant with you that has made you the crazy nut that you are!"

She has become aware, and now I am too, that I'm a complete wackadoodle because of her pie portion problem when I was a mere fetus. The learning lessons and moments of self realization never end, do they?

Off the Rails on a Crazy Train! (Ay Ay Ay Ay...)

On the stress meter, I'm maxed out as of 830pm tonight.  Its all "real life" drama, but I think I'm teetering on the edge of "more than the normal person can handle and stay cheerful" drama.  I'm at a high level of steatosis, apparently, according to this chart.

I would like to know how death ended up on this meter.  At the point of death, I'm thinking you aren't stressed at all.  Unless you were very, very bad during your stay on Earth.....then you've got new stuff going on, like flames at your ass and your worst nightmare on a continuous loop.  Otherwise, I would say that death would be in the green because everything is all relaxed.  Everything.  Hence why people poop and stuff when they die, right?  Full relaxation.  Opposite of stressed.

This seems like a more accurate chart.  I'm right at Anxiety and my body is not happy.  This is a real conversation that happened quite recently while getting ready for bed.

I'm laying in bed staring at the ceiling while Justin is in the bathroom brushing his teeth.

Me: "I feel sick."

J: "Do you want something?"

Me: "Yes, a Tums."  

Side Note for Reader: I have to mention that me asking for antacids in this house is super big doins.  When I was pregnant, Justin literally TOLD ON ME for eating "more than the recommended dosage" of Tums and Rolaids.  Ratted me out to my gynecologist right in the middle of my doctor examining my cervix.  "She's out of control.  Who knows how many she eats each day!"   "Vicki, exactly how many ARE you eating??"   It was the cervical examination that reminded me that we weren't ten year olds in fifth grade accusing each other of stealing answers on a test at that exact moment.  They didn't have that kind of exam at my school. 

Me: "But I think we are almost out."

J: "Hey, you relax out there!!"  (I don't know what he thought I had said)

Me: "I SAID WE ARE ALMOST OUT!  LIKE AS IN WE HAVE NO MORE!  And don't you tell me to relax with all of this crazy drama that's going on surrounding our lives and shit!"

J: "Oh jeez....." 

He rustles in the medicine cabinet and I stare at the ceiling in a more dramatic fashion, with sighing, arm flailing and head rolling.

Me: "What do you call those people who get rid of bad spirits and juju?"

J: "For an exorcism?"

Me: "Yeah.  That's it.  We need an exorcism of bad energy in our house. It's reached that level.  We have a desperate situation."

He tosses the entire bottle of Tums at me as he walks past me and mumbles,  "Sweet Jesus....."

He thought I was just being dramatic.  The thing is that I was totally serious.  Every day it was something new and after two weeks, I was getting a little freaked out and a lot exasperated.  I know that everyone goes through this from time to time, but when you're in it, you feel like it's never going to end.  God only gives you what he knows you can handle.  That's what I've been telling myself multiple times every day since this chaos started.

This chart confirms my belief that mental stress triggers physical problems. My mom has always said it and there is scientific proof that's she's right.  I can't confirm the Pancreas' current state, but I know that every other category has a big fat "CHECK" next to it right now, so Mom would probably stamp my Stress Chart with a big, fat CONFIRMED

While I'm busting out charts and stuff, I had to add this one.  I came across it when I Googled "Stress Meters and or Charts".  Being a parrot owner, I was impressed by how it rang true.

How freaking ironic is this?  Parrots and humans are quite similar in the "causes of stress" department. Everything besides "New Objects" would be on my list too. I never thought our Cleo Louise was being bitchy for the same reasons that I was!  Perhaps she's referring to me as "Bitchface" now too.  I have a newfound level of tolerance for our bird's pissy behavior.

I'm going to wrap it up for now.  You know things are getting weird when you start comparing entire species of creatures.  Let's hope for a peaceful, event-free tomorrow.  24 hours.  That's all I'm asking for.  24 hours of no drama and/or trauma.  Starting now.  Ready.....steady......GO!

Freeze Frame

Ive been sitting on these photos for a month because I didn't want our mothers to see them before Mother's Day. You can imagine that the proud mother in me was freeeeeeaking the hell out. I was stifling the urge to post them on Facebook for friends and distant family members to see. After all, I'm like every other mother who thinks you want to see pictures of my kid, regardless of whether you give a shit or not.

BUT considering that my recent quest for info about getting a Kindle for Mom's birthday resulted in her being informed that she would be getting one, I figured there were many on Facebook who were not to be trusted with the Mother's Day gift photos. Facebook was not my friend at that time.

(Note to self: Never expect people to understand that "its a gift" means they shouldn't mention it to the recipient. Serves me right for using Social Media to get some guidance from my peers. Very naive, Vicki. tsk! tsk!)

Looking back, the whole picture-taking session was a great experience, but I should probably be banned from actively participating in things like this. I should be forced to sit in the sidelines with wine and xanax and just the hell shut up. I was barely one step up from those anxious, crazed moms on those dreadful beauty pageant shows. I most likely annoyed everyone involved, although they were all kind enough to smile reassuringly and say, "It's going to be fine. Don't get yourself so stressed out."

Justin and I are taking classes from this wonderful photographer who is a customer of mine (Diane Bollen from Dragonfly Studios... Click HERE to see Diane and Joe's incredible photography) . Every time I go into their home, I spend extra time staring at their work. Amazing stuff. So, when she heard I was interested in photography, she offered to barter. I jumped right at that.

One day she called to tell me that there was a photography workshop near the city and an international photographer, Judy Host, was looking for a child Allie's age to participate. Of course I said SURE right away! I was flattered that she thought of Allie and it was a new experience that sounded exciting. We will be there! And then I hung up.....

Enter Anxiety Mom.

Here's how my brain started messing with me. 'Allie is shy. What if she attaches herself to my leg and wont let go? What if she starts crying and they can't get any pictures? Allie is shy. How will she do around a LOT of strangers? What if she freaks out? What if they cant get her to stand alone? Shit! Allie is SHY!'

Then the obsessive worrying began the minute I heard that Judy had this one outfit that she really wanted to use for the shoot and that's why she needed Allie. 'OMG this lady is counting on getting a photo of this dress! How disappointed will she be if it just doesnt happen? She's a somebody in this photography world. Will she be upset? Are we going to disappoint a Somebody?? Breathe, Vicki, breathe! How many people are going to be there? THIRTY?! We might disappoint 30 people with cameras??? OMG. This is bad. ALLIE IS SHY!!!"

Diane reassured me it was going to be just fine numerous times. Judy met us the night before and she reassured me Allie would be fine (although I think she was worried about whether I would be ok) (I promised to self medicate and chill). Justin reassured me that everything would work out perfectly.

Those three are typically very calm people so I went to a fellow worrier....The Ninja Worrier.....my mother. And SHE reassured me. "They all know she's shy, Vicki. What's the worst thing that could happen? What are you so worried about?" If my mother was all easy-breezy and thought I should chill out, then I was going to try really hard to do just that. After all, by this point my face was broken out, I had more alcohol that week than the entire previous year, and I wasn't sleeping from the stress. I needed to stop being a freak.

I worried right up until the minute allllllll of those professional photographers walked in wielding cameras to photograph my peanut. And there sat Allie, off to the side, in that adorable outfit, eating pretzels and ignoring the people filtering in.....until we walked her to the staging area.

Something changed in the atmosphere and BAM! She was ON. Who was this child?? She thought she was the sixth Kardashian sister or something!

Looking at the photos you would never guess that there was this large crowd around her. It's like she knew she should ignore them all and be as cute as possible. She was very focused on Judy, who I think has something magical going on with humans. Judy wasn't looking for a smiling child, and our little princess never busted out the cheesy smile she gives me when I point a camera at her. Just a little sly grin here and there.

And here is the end result......

Photo by Judy Host

Photo by Judy Host

Photo by Judy Host

Photo by Patti Hale

Photo by Patti Hale

Guess what? It was all fine.

I left there with a complete adrenaline rush for some weird reason, and thought, 'Oh, I'd like to do that again!' I scooped her up and walked out of that place, so relieved that she performed exactly as she was needed to. She went right back to being my shy little girl once that dress was peeled off of her (she didn't want to take it off.) I suppose it really was a magical dress!


(Note: There are also photos credited to Patti Hale from Chosen Moments studio. Click HERE for her website. She was at the workshop and she reached out to us a few days later thru Facebook. (Oh, look at Facebook trying to be all helpful again! I forgive you FB) Patti was kind enough to send the photos she took. She was a lovely, talented person and her work is a reflection of that.)