Happy May Everything!

I'm not fond of the month of May. Yes, the weather is really shaping up, and there's a 3-day weekend towards the end, but take a look at the rest of the month:

Parent's anniversary (mine)

Mother's day (my mom, MIL, step MIL, and now, me)

Niece's birthday (other side of country)

Father's birthday

Brother-in-law's birthday (also other side of country – niece's dad)

Husband's birthday

Mother-in-law's birthday

Step-sister-in-law's birthday

Memorial Day

Oh, yeah, and my birthday is somewhere in that lot too.

 

It makes it a bit of a mess. We have to coordinate birthday dinners with 3 sets of parents, Mother's Day dinners with 2 sets, get a dozen gifts (more on this later), try to be "on" for all of previously mentioned get-togethers, be appreciative of gifts received (again, see later), send thank you notes (which I haven't actually done in at least a decade because I have horrific manners & no, my mother didn't raise me this way) and now we have to do it all with a very schedule-regimented toddler and an infant. Oh, and get some sleep in there somewhere. Plus all the normal things we do day-to-day each month, but with a week less to do them in because of all the damned get-togethers. Just thinking about it exhausts me.

 

So to make life easier, one year I created May Everything Day. Yes, I know, I made another whole day to celebrate, but it actually cuts down on several of the get-togethers. How? Re-read the name of the day. May Everything. So instead of getting together 5 times with my parents, we just do one day, and celebrate mother's day for two, anniversary for them, and 3 birthdays. It's a coup, I tell you. We kind of do this unofficially with the Hubster's mom and her hubby (love him to death! – oh, her too, sorry) because they live almost an hour and a half away – not a big deal until you add little kids that don't like car seats. And we don't celebrate Mom's day for the dad-in-law's wife – her own kids can do that – and they've finally consolidated to 1 dinner for 3 birthdays (though it's always her son's wife's favorite flavors for cake and ice cream), so we're now down to 3 days for the month.

 

As long as it's not the 3 days of Memorial Day weekend, we're good.

LuLu the Grouch

Yup, that's me. Not always, only when I don't get enough sleep. Which has been the past 4 months or so. How do I know almost exactly when it began? Two ways. First, I had a baby 11 weeks ago, and the too-pregnant-to-stay-asleep-because-I'm-in-pain phase started about a month before. Second, that was when the contractions induced by stress induced by blizzards began. Oh, wait, that would be "see the first way," & I can't think of a new second because I'm too damned tired. But it's not all bad. There are intermittent moments of sleepfulness when I'm not a total Grouch. They usually involve Ambien (ahhhh), snakebites (ouch and yum), or nooners (yippee!) It's safe to say the Hubster and I will never try to combine all three at once - it would cause a cataclysm in our little universe.

So you may think it's perfectly normal for the mother of an 11 week old to be living(?) on little sleep. Which tells me you aren't a good reader because you missed the bit about the Ambien. Or don't know what it is, in which case get out of your cave and search wikipedia. In case the blog name and address didn't clue you in, I'm manic. Technically manic-depressive, or bi-polar to the hipsters. And yes, I was diagnosed after it came into "fashion," though supposedly by the guy who "discovered" it.

Being manic for me tends to include that I don't sleep, among other things. I could go into detail here about my mania-induced nuttiness, but more fun to throw these things in a few at a time. Don't want to scare off all the norms. Actually, when I'm in depressive mode, I tend not to sleep either, but that's because I become afraid of not existing, and that too is a subject for another time. Before the diagnosis - and bliss in pill form - I had developed a huge (like divorce-worthy) online-gaming obsession, and would play for hours and hours, just eating, drinking, mousing, text chatting and yelling at the scream with the tv blaring in the background. And once most games enabled voice chat, add in inappropriate innuendos, arguments, & screaming at people I'd never met, never would, and didn't give a damn about. Hey, it was something to fill the time - I hadn't discovered blogging then.

Okay, so I do sleep, just not well, or for very long. Hence the Ambien. And even that doesn't keep me asleep at times. Lord help me if I drink too much water in the evening, because one walk to the toilet (a whole 8 steps) and I'm too awake to get back to sleep. Luckily, I don't have to get up to breastfeed the boogie, or I'd be way worse. And before the hating starts on that, let me remind you: manic-depressive = big, bad drugs = no BF allowed, and no milk made anyway. And no, I won't stop taking the meds, as a nice & well-meaning breastfeeding mommy suggested, because then I might hurt my little joys, or my lobster, or myself. Or her, if she ever makes another unsolicited, uninformed and unrealistic suggestion to me. She'd know who she is, if she ever read this.

But I digress. I do that a lot. Unorganized mind and all.

About last night, I went to bed a little early, 7:30-ish. We're changing our sleeping schedules to let the big man grab a bit more, as he's supposed to start working from an office again as of next week. Ugh. Gotta do what the boss says, though. Took my happy pill, read half a chapter of Potter, and hit the light. Next thing I know I'm getting a lovely exfoliation treatment. From a cat. With his scratchier-than-sandpaper tongue. Big ouch. And then I had to winkie-tinkie*, so off to the toilet. Back to bed in hope of reclaiming my bliss, but in vain. (Not vane or vein! *cheeky grin*) Even daydreaming about Papa Greg** didn't help. I considered a quick date with myself, but I was tired, and the batteries were dead.

I hung in there for an hour, trying to fall back to sleep, but after while the back cramps, the head pounds, thirst, another urge to pee, etc. So out of bed around 2 am. And this way the big man could get to bed a little earlier. Of course, he was already asleep on the couch, 11 week old cradled in his arms (um, okay, wedged between him and side of sofa, but that's not as romantic), and both were snoring. Not fair. Really not.

I'm going to try very hard not to be a Grouch. The big man is very good to me, especially while home, and I should be able to sneak in a nap (another reason he's aka Saint Daddy) so as long as I can manage 'til big boy's nap time - only 4 hours to go! - I should be okay. Oscar may have to find another girlfriend today.


*winkie tinkie - urinate, pee, potty, etc., as coined by our driver's ed teacher in high school, back in '86 or '87. To get a hall pass we had to raise our hand and let him know we had to "winkie tinkie." I never was sure if that was for the fun factor or the embarrassment, but it stuck. I wish I could remember his name - he was damn funny - but you do that math, that was a long time ago, and my membrane doesn't work so well anymore. Particularly in sleep deprivation mode.

**Papa Greg - aka Dr. Gregory House, lead character on Fox's House M.D. Not sure when the name made it's first appearance, but probably had something to do with my little infatuation with the character (and then the actor - I am sooooo a fanatic!) during my first pregnancy. It doesn't help that the kids eyes are the same shade of blue, or that one of Saint Daddy's Daddy's favorite phrases is "we know who the mother is..." (leave it hanging, cue the implications) but I swear I have never been to Princeton, NJ. Or L.A. Or London, for that matter.

Do you really want my advice? Then take it.

Or at least acknowledge it.

This is a pet peeve of mine. Okay, one of many. But it irks me. Someone asks for your advice, then dismisses you out-of-hand to your face. Or your post/text/voicemail - whatev. Basically, tells you your opinion is wrong.


If you ask for someone's advice, shouldn't you at least listen to what they have to say? And should you accept that they have a legitimate take on the issue, rather than telling them they are wrong? It's advice, many times an opinion or personal experience, so that may be what would work best for them. That doesn't mean it will work for you, but it could help with your decision making. And are you asking an open-ended question, or a "what did you do when xyz happened to you?" Because if it's the latter, and you tell them they're wrong, well then, you're telling them they were, well, wrong. How nice of you! That should certainly move you to the head of the BFF status list.

So really, when asking for advice, or opinions, from our friends and acquaintances and online lurkers, is that truly what we want? Or are we looking for validation? I'm sure there have been studies galore, through sociology, psychology, other -ologies, trying to answer this question. But I'm betting that most people asking for "help", unless they are truly stumped and don't know what to do or where to go, really just want to know that someone out there thinks they are right.

I've found this to be especially true on online forums. Someone will post a message (I'm thinking of buying a dirigible and trying to fly to the moon. Should I bring my puppy? What would you do, or have done?) and then the floodgates are open. There can be a plethora of answers ("ur gonna what?" - "what's a dirigi-thingie?" - "I'd take a kangaroo instead of a dog" - "you're stupid/that's a dumb idea/WTH?") but are any of them helpful? If someone told you to use a hovercraft instead of a dirigible, would you consider it? And do you respond to any of the suggestions, other than a "thanks for your suggestions"-type message? And do any of these online peeps really care what you do, if they don't know you IRL (that's "in real life", for you non-acronym savvy) (yeah, okay, that's the extent of my vast online-acronym knowledge - I was trying to look smart)

So assuming the answerers don't really care & the asker isn't planning to "hear" the answers anyway, why bother? Are we that bored? Or lonely? Maybe just craving human contact even in such a remote form?

***

I know I've been terrible at this for most of my life. Ask the hubby, or my good friends. Generally, I've just wanted someone to tell me I was right, that what I'm thinking is okay, that I'm not a total whack job, etc., et al. I'm trying to get better, because I'm sure it annoys them as much as it annoys me. Unless I'm totally at a loss, I try not to ask an open-ended opinion request. More of a "in xyz sitch, would you A or B?" Some of my friends will answer that as is, some will say A or B, but that C works better for them. One gal coaches her answer in a "from my experience with you, I think you'd be happiest with..." But shouldn't the real question be more in line with " in xyz sitch, do you think I'm doing what's right for me by doing A?" Or even "Tell me it's okay to A" and just get right to the point - I want you to say it's okay. And if you don't I won't like you anymore. But I will still keep asking for your opinion on things.

Food, for a thought

I love food. I'm not ashamed of it (anymore). I'm not in the "live to eat" category, but I do love a bit of overindulgence in the kitchen. At one long point of my life I was beyond morbidly obese. But that's been fixed: I took the Carnie Wilson route, & in theory should cut certain foods out of my diet forever, but hey, who are we kidding? But that's several days worth of blog posts right there, and meanwhile I am making forward baby steps once again.

What are we doing now? Planting more veggies! And a couple fruits too. I majored in Horticulture, but am a terrible home gardener. Why? Quite simply, watering is my nemesis. The hubby and I have a little joke about what I'm wasting time/money/etc. on each year by planting it and condemning it to a slow and tortured death. And what's sad is I love plants, watching them grow and flower and fruit, and eating said fruit. But I don't seem to love them enough to remember to water them. I think it's because both in school and places I worked, watering was done automatically, with timed systems of hoses and pipes and solenoids. But that's just the excuse I spout. The hubby knows the truth: I'm just plain lazy.

So for the record, I'm going to list all the little buddies headed to death row this summer. They're supposed to be put in their cells tomorrow. We have a roma tomato, cantaloupe, lemon cucumber, strawberry, bib lettuce, and spinach. The hubby said he would water them this year if I did the planting, since he has quite a few herbs, tomatoes and peppers growing this year. We tried this last year - or was it the year before? I had green beans and soybeans, peppers, and tomatoes, all doing great. Then he had to go across the country for work for a week. By the time he got home, most were lost. It was rather pathetic. All that work (okay, a couple hours worth) all to be wasted by forgetting to water for a couple days. But we'll try again, hopefully to make more progress in getting me to work a bit, and have some interesting and tasty things to show for it in 90-128 days.

Manic brain is killin' me

Or maybe it's "mommy brain" but really, I've been this way for at least a decade, since about the time I stopped working full time. Maybe I need to keep my brain working to keep my brain working! Where's Homer when you need a "D'oh!"?

Anyway, I need a system. I keep coming up with what I think are great ideas to write about. I even go through several paragraphs in my mind, edit a bit, go through them again. Then when I sit for a few secs and try to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard (depending on the sitch) it's gone. I can't even think of the initial idea, let alone any of the clever bits. Maybe I need to strap a Dictaphone to my bra (yes, honey, it's pronounced dick-ta-fone). Then I can just record everything that comes to mind. And my mom used to be a PA - maybe she could transcribe for me... erm, or not.

The really annoying part is I used to be able to keep up. Way back when, in the stoner age - okay, not really, I have enough issues with my mind; it was actually a slightly disparaging remark about my age, get it? - I knew my schedule for a month, kept track of homework, activities, menses, gossip, dates, and all the writing ideas I had, and was always able to recall anything and everything at will. But whether it's age, disuse, the mania, the meds for the mania, or some combination thereof, I'm just not the gal I used to be. Tonight I got all happy I could figure out the answer on Wheel of Fortune before the lady on TV, and it was entirely filled in. And the kids on mini-Jeopardy have better brain function than I seem to. If I thought it would help, I'd brave the vomit-scented fragrance of the female ginkgo tree. Or just buy the pills, but I wouldn't remember they exist and end up surrounded by nausea-inducing trees. Gah, I hate ginkgo. At least I think I do.

The more I think about it, the Dictaphone (or modern-day equivalent) isn't such a bad idea. Then no matter where I am I can have a conversation with myself out loud. And if anyone gives me the evil eye, I can pull out my modern-day-Dictaphone and brandish it like I'm someone important. So important I need to make sure every little thing that pops into my head must be recorded. Kind of like a tween with a texting phone, but all grown up.

Hmmm. I wonder if they make transcription software for the Dictaphone?

So I accidentally left the wrong window open and the hubby saw the blog. Oops! Just kidding. We had been talking about trying out blogging for a bit now, and I had "secretly" started this little project to see if I could/would or even should (don't you just love rhyme thyme, er, time?). I'm still not writing as much as I want if this is truly to be a diary of sorts, but I'm trying to work up to every other day while starting out. A difficult task, to be sure, especially since my only time to type is when both boys are sleeping.

And hooray me, I have 4 followers! Okay, one if them is the husband, but we have to communicate somehow.

***massive pause***

Okay, I have now typed 4 or 5 different things and deleted them. Gah, I'm self-editing like a madman. Why? Because now that I know someone is reading this, I'm feeling a little bitty bit self-conscious. I'll try to work through it.

First, I wanted to snark on Earth Day. I had some almost witty things out there, and some big guffaws still in my head, but meh. Not feeling it. It's an arbitrary day started 40 years ago, that seems to be "celebrated" off & on depending on who's in charge and what agenda is being touted that year. I don't remember even hearing the phrase until high school, and even in the past decade enthusiasm has waxed and waned. I know that's true of every cause, but this one has it's own day. And it's a planet - you know, where we all live. (Unless you're an alien reading this from a galaxy far, far away...but I think that's been trademarked so--- moving on.) So like our ancestors a few millennium ago, shouldn't we "celebrate" or do good -or at least not harm- the planet, like, you know, every day? Or would that be part of the Green Movement? (No, I'm not talking about my bowels here, the spinach was last week. But I do still hold that topic in threat.) I'm all into the current buzzwords just like any good citizen: re-use, repurpose, recycle, upcycle, freecycle, declutter, donate - there are a plethora of them, I can look up more for you. Or make up more, 'cause you know someone somewhere did. But I'm not going to snark about it now. I only mentioned it because the hubster wanted me to talk about all the work I'm doing trying to de-clutter the house, and donating things we no longer need or use, but frankly, I'm too damned tired from doing it!

Second, I wanted to [also] snark about a little blurb I noticed on yahoo's news feed. Apparently, I can now relive the love I feel for Edward Cullen everyday, by wearing Bella's engagement ring! Yes, I'll admit it, while I have not read the books, I did watch the first movie. It was playing during a free weekend on Starz channels, so I tivo'd it...then watched it... 3 nights in a row. (Sicko!) What I hadn't realized was that I had fallen in love with Edward. And that I'm such a bitch I must have stolen this poor girl's engagement ring so I can daydream her fiance wants me instead. Seriously? I know I go all fanatic with some things, too (Harry Potter, House, Buffy) but seriously? Unfortunately, I really am too tired, so I may have to revisit this later.

And lastly, I want to tell the world about my wondrous boys. My toddling has actually started to communicate beyond the point and scream, or just the constant babble of babyhood. He has learned some signs (thankfully, since he constantly wants to watch his Signing Time - truly I love it, but 30-40 times in a row is a bit more than I can take!) He's started using his signs properly, and today, he looked at one of our cats, made his cat sign, and said cat, all at the same time. Two very proud parents over here! And after he and Daddy went to bed, I got to spend some time with the baby [devil]. He's becoming such a flirt - winking and raising his brows, smiling, cooing, laughing. I just beam at him, making happy faces and trying to coerce more grins and gurgles.

So now I sign off, hopefully to get a bit of sleep myself. And I'll try to be back real soon.

A DIY Upside-Down Planter

A baby-wearing friend of mine posted a question on the TBW forums (http://www.thebabywearer.com) asking if anyone had ever tried the Topsy Turvy planters. I haven't, but being an active DIYer and Horticulture major, the hubby and I have made our own version in the past. We used 2L soda bottles, but really any plastic jug can be used (milk jug, juice, soda, plastic paint jug - you get the idea.) So following are my directions for making and using your own upside down vertical planter.

1. Buy something in a plastic jug and use it. Alternatively, you could get one or several off your local Freecycle (http://www.freecycle.org) or other recycling club as well. A note about containers - size matters! If you want to plant something that has a larger root system (like tomatoes!) use a larger jug. A smaller container, such as a 2L, would be great for a shallower rooter - we've had great results with peppers and trailing herbs, and pretty good with tomatoes in this size.

2. Wash said container, and remove labels if you'd like. Soap and water is fine, if you want to go crazy sterile you can also rinse it with a weak bleach or peroxide solution.

3. Open up the bottom. To just cut off the bottom on as lighter weight plastic, you can just use scissors, but I recommend you reinforce it by wrapping a couple layers of duct/duck tape around the bottom first. For a larger jug, such as a one gallon milk or large juice jug, you can also just cut a hole in the bottom (large enough to easily get your hand in and out) and leave the sides intact. For a harder plastic, such as a paint jug, you may need to drill a starter hole or two, or use a saw. Ii don't recommend saws or power tools on lighter plastic as they may collapse or be more likely to split.

4. Figure out how & you're going to hang this thing. We had ours hanging off hooks on our deck, so we needed to add a hanging loop. If you know macrame or knotting, you can probably whip up something. You could also use a mesh reusable bag. we used bungie cords. For our method, we poked 4 holes approx. equidistant around the large hole (the bottom) of the jug and inserted the hooks from the bungies into the holes. You'll want to reinforce the holes (another use for duct tape!) Anything that will suspend and keep it evenly upright will work!

5. Get the seedling in there! Take you seedling out of the container it came in and break up the root ball - you can save the soil and mix it in with your potting mix. You then can decide which method to use to get it in the hole.
A--> Carefully push the roots through "top" (smaller hole). This is the best method if the seedling already has a lot of branches.
B--> Carefully feed the top of the plant through the larger hole (the "bottom") and then through the smaller hole. this is great for a smaller, narrower seedling, or a larger root ball. If your plant came in one of the self-composting (paper/cardboard) containers you can also use this method so you don't have to remove the container.

6. *optional* Plug the hole. You may need or want to plug the small hole the plant is sticking out of, to ensure it doesn't fall out. A bit of sponge works well for this. You'll want to sterilize the sponge by soaking it in a weak bleach solution and rinsing it out, the wrap it around the stem at it's base, pushing it into the mouth of the small hole. If your plant has a large root ball or self-composting pot, this step probably isn't necessary.

7. Fill the pot with potting soil. Just dump in your soil mix though the big hole. Add in your in your preferred soil enhancers and fertilizer, and throw a bit of mulch on top.

8. Hang it up!

If you have questions or something doesn't make sense, let me know about it.