Sticks and Stars

Nothing huge went wrong, nothing horrible happened, but every little small thing that could go wrong did. Like me tripping over, stepping on, and bumping into every tripable, stepable, and bumpable item in my apartment with the final culmination of me tearing off my big toe nail while trying to move furniture in my four year old’s room (ouch).

I baked a loaf of chocolate cinnamon bread that would have been extremely tasty had I not burned it.

I bought a new winter coat for my one year old, took off the tags and washed it before I noticed that I accidentally bought a size too small.

This morning when I could take it no longer, I bundled up the boys and went out for coffee, but about three sips in, as we pulled back up to our apartment, I dropped the cup all over the floor of my car.

I recently replaced my four year old’s fire truck bed with a bunk bed and spent this morning cleaning up the fire truck bed with the intent of returning it to craigslist (from whence it originated), only to discover, a few hours later, that my children had colored all over it and its mattress with permanent markers.

It’s also been a stellar weekend for parenting since my patience has been nonexistent. I feel so, so terrible about how mean I’ve been, how impatient, how bitchy. My children deserve much better than me.

I was even infuriated with my hair today, as if it was purposefully trying to piss me off and make my life miserable by flying into my face and refusing to stay put in a pony tail. Truly, I was so full of rage that had it been a little less painful, I might well have torn it all out by the roots.

Everything feels so stressful and overwhelming right now. Again, nothing huge is happening, and not all of it is even bad stress, but I still have a million little things racing around and vying for my brain’s attention (not unlike my children, now that I think about it, except they aren’t a million, just two, no matter how much like a million they might seem).

I just wish something nice would happen. Something really nice that would make me smile every time I thought about it, something that would make all these millions of stressors seem inconsequential, something that would help me refocus on the overwhelming joy in my life instead of getting lost in these ground floor details.

Instead I will probably twist my ankle tomorrow morning, slam one of my children’s fingers in the car door, miss my bus (and/or forget my bus pass), accidentally drop a significant table from my workplace’s database, get food poisoning at lunch, rear end someone on my way home, break off my house key in the door lock, drop my clean laundry in the mud, burn dinner, step on my laptop, watch my one year old drop my cell phone in the toilet, etc.

I would think that a good workout in relatively close proximity to bedtime would be just the ticket to send me into uninteruptedly blissful slumberland, but no. I had a hell of a time falling asleep; I had a hell of a time staying asleep; I am now up at 5am. Which is good in some ways because I had no intention of working out this morning and yet now that I’m up, I might as well.

Last night’s good workout came in the form of my very first kung fu class. Of course, just as you might expect, it was fucking awesome.

There were about forty women in the class, maybe more even, and six of us were there for the first time (I was not the only fat girl — woohoo!). We started out with the expected stretching and meditation and then partnered up for some interesting exercises, one where we ran around the room tossing a small ball back and forth (relatively small room + twenty pairs of women racing around throwing small hard pink balls back and forth = lots of bumps and laughter), and then one where we all had to walk around leading our partners while their eyes were closed (at the same time, again, small room, much careful navigation). Both exercises were a hell of a lot more interesting than the usual horrendous ice breakers/team builders to which I have generally been subjected.

After that, we spent the rest of the time pairing and grouping off in assorted combinations, sometimes specifically with someone more experienced, sometimes specifically with another beginner, to learn kicks and punches and blocks and grab arts and a bunch of other stuff that I can see in my brain and feel with body but to which I can no longer attach a label. We ended by watching the different belts demonstrate their forms and then by watching a…milk? line…where the women who were getting ready to test for their next belt fended off attacker after attacker.

It was all intense and awesome. For about the first thirty minutes I was deeply, deeply uncomfortable, especially as I was forced to find partner after new partner (all my sixth grade fears of no one wanting to partner with me rose right to the surface) and then be clumsy and gigglingly awkward in front of them over and over (I am so not good at not being good). But the women were all very nice, very willing to be my partner, and I just got over being awkward and accepted that most women who start kung fu do not immediately jump to black belt level work during their first hour (and as an aside, I was really amazed at how useful my brief experience with tai chi was to this class, and how much my body recalled from those few weeks).

I thought that this format for bringing in beginners was very interesting. Usually when you have a new group of any kind, everyone feels shy and awkward and defensive (or maybe that’s just me) and so people feel the need to show their skill (or what they think is their supposed skill) or how much they know (or how much they don’t know) and there is this subtle undercurrent of competition, if for nothing else than to not be the stupidest, clumsiest person in the class. Throwing us into a group where we were by far the minority and where we never interacted with each other except when specifically instructed to do so (and only after a long while of training with others) left us happy to latch on to others who were just as awkward. When I first partnered with another beginner and whispered, “this is fucking intense” as I repeatedly punched the mitt she was wearing, she broke into a huge grin and agreed with a clear amount of relief. Next week, when we come together in just our beginner classes, we’ll come together as a bonded group with a clear understanding that we don’t know shit, instead of as separate insecure individuals with chips on our shoulders.

The highlight of my evening was learning…damn…can’t remember what it was called…but anyway, this form where I’d kick a roundhouse kick, then punch with a side swipe of my arm to my attacker’s temple, and then punch with my other hand into my attacker’s solar plexus. It was a lot to take in and a lot to coordinate (and I am not so good with the quick physical coordination) but I caught the rhythm pretty quickly and felt like the flow was really working for me. I think it really helped to working with a very advanced student. The runner up highlight of my evening was learning grab art #3 from this dyke who I initially did not find attractive, but who was so gentle and patient and strong and…well…yummy, that by the end I just wanted to wrap my arms around her legs, stare up at her with rapt adoration, and plead, teach me, teach me, teach me!

If I haven’t made it clear, I will definitely be returning for the 8 week beginner’s cycle. Two beginner classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and then an optional mixed class on Saturdays (all with free childcare, have I mentioned the free childcare?). I’m very excited.

Only 2.5 days left until I officially end my current job and officially start my new job (pay cut and all). I’ve been unofficially done with my old job and unofficially working on my new job for a week or so now (since whenever it was that I posted about my big transition day) but today I got slammed with a big can of worms that really could not have come at a worse time. I’ve been working my ass off all morning and now I’m no longer in the mood to work, so I will blog instead, and probably not even about anything useful or even interesting.

One thing I can tell you (that is not terribly useful, but might be at least a little interesting) is that I’m starting kung fu tomorrow. Perhaps “starting” is an overly ambition descriptor, but I am, if nothing else, attending a kung fu try-it-and-see-if-you-like-it class so that I can indeed try it and see if I like it. I’m at a loss to recall exactly how this came about but what I do remember is that I had this idea that I wanted to do something physical, and this idea that I wanted to continue to try to build a stronger community of women in my life. A little internet searching brought me to a local women’s kung fu organization that *drum roll* offers free childcare for all of its sessions!

Kung fu? I know absolutely nothing about kung fu aside from it being a martial art that involves belts like karate (and I learned all that from the website of this women’s kung fu organization). But really, I don’t care. I get my physical activity, I get my women, and I even get free childcare!! Really, it doesn’t get much better than that. And I’m sure kung fu must be cool if people are doing it, right?

So the way it goes is that I try this class on Thursday, then I decide whether I want to join their eight week beginner class. The beginner class meets at least three times a week (but again, free childcare!) and after it’s over I can decide whether I want to continue training on a month-to-month basis. It’s kind of an intense commitment, even for just eight weeks, but I figure that tomorrow’s class will give me more insight about whether I really want to make that commitment. I must say that I do like the thought of learning to use my body in that way, learning to use my body at all, and especially gaining that experience in an all-woman environment. We women are trained to have such distance from our bodies, to be so disconnected, and especially when it comes to using our bodies in any kind of physically assertive manner. I can imagine there will be no small amount of processing that will need to happen along with this training and it’s nice to imagine that there will be space to do so.

Plus, free childcare! Did I mention that? That there’s free childcare? Because there is. And it’s free!

I can’t talk about my cat. I just cannot. I can’t even let myself think about it because it was so horrible. I can’t even let myself think about thinking about it.

So let’s talk about something light, shall we?

Hmm….how about…dating? Yes, I haven’t given you an all-too-personal update on my dating life in a while, so let’s have at it.

First of all, remember this guy? Of course you do! Despite my lack of further blogging on the subject, the story did not end there.

I can never, ever let things end without at least a little beating-to-death, so a couple days after I posted about the end, I sent him an email essentially reiterating what I posted to my blog and telling him that I at least wanted to be friends. I did so because in thinking about how things ended I was concerned that I had overreacted a bit out of hurt feelings and defensiveness and had shut things down too quickly. Plus, I missed him, and I thought he might miss me too. Unfortunately, he did not respond to my email, which was really terrible because that meant he didn’t even want to be friends with me, which made me increasingly sad.

But a while after that (feels like weeks but I think it was just days) I came across an amazing sculptor who I just had to share with him. I debated whether I should send him another email and discussed the issue at length with a friend who is very good at helping me to preempt various ass-making activities with which I might otherwise be inspired to engage. She told me I should send it and so I did, and he responded by letting me know that my angst filled week had been in vain as he had never received my initial email. Conversation ensued and reconnections were made and here we are, weeks later, and all is well. He even came over and hung out with my boys and I and it was good. There is something very endearing about watching a grown man play with your kids’ toys.

For a while I was also dating another guy who I thought seemed pretty promising. He was a really nice guy, and he particularly liked dating single moms because he can’t have kids of his own and appreciated the possibility of an instant family (and he thought that single moms don’t get laid enough so we are likely to have all kinds of built up sexual tension — indeed!). We went on a few dates and I was hopeful, but ultimately he was just too, well…boring. He told really long, really boring stories and laughed way too long at jokes that weren’t that funny. My face got tired from all the fake smiling. And really, aside from him liking single moms and me being a single mom, and him being slightly geeky, we really didn’t have much in common. He’s not even the kind of geek I like. And he was neither clever, nor witty.

Other than that, I’ve not really met anyone terribly compelling. I exchange a few emails here and there and maybe get to the point of instant messaging, but nothing beyond. It’s been suggested that my standards are too high, but why should I settle? I’m not even really looking, just mostly seeing what comes along. Besides, it’s nice to come home to emails from guy telling you that you’re funny and cute…even if they are neither funny, cute, or in decent proximity to a spellchecker.

Oddly enough though, lately I’ve been being contacted by a decent number of interesting and extremely attractive boys…but they are all 25. As pretty and interesting as they might be, I just don’t know that I can see myself with someone who was 12 when I was graduating from high school. But I don’t know for sure. They are awfully pretty.

On Saturday I noticed that one of my cats was suddenly surprisingly skinny. For her it was especially surprising because she’s always been a big cat, one with a big soft belly and big round sides. She’s the quintessential cat, I tell people, with a soft body and silky fur that is the ultimate combination for maximum petability. Plus she has the perfect cat face, exactly what a cat should look like.

I took her to the vet today to see if I could find out what was going on. Today is also the day I take my four year old to the hospital where he will be put under a general anesthetic so that he can have some major dental work done on his little four year old teeth, so there’s a lot going on, and lately my life has been pretty hectic overall. A vet appointment was icing on the cake.

It turns out that my cat has a very large tumor on her liver, there’s nothing the vet can do, and he recommended putting her to sleep immediately because she’s clearly very sick. All I could do was stare at him. I was only bringing her in for medication or maybe a day of treatment or whatever it is that vets do behind closed doors to make sick kitties well. I couldn’t even wrap my brain around the idea of not leaving with her, of having that very moment being the last I would ever have with her.

As soon as he saw me crying my four year old stopped racing around the room and banging to chair against the wall to ask me repeatedly what was wrong. I’m not good at crying in front of people and so trying to explain to my little boy that our kitty was really sick, that they couldn’t make her better, that the vet was going to help her die so that she wouldn’t have to be sick anymore while trying to resist my desire to grab my cat and lay down on the floor and bawl was really horrible.

I brought her home with us so that I could have time to say goodbye tonight before I take her back tomorrow morning. I am not sure whether I can be with her the moment she dies, but how can I do less for her?

I’ve lost three cats in the past two years.

One day spent staring at SQL followed by one evening spent watching Sense and Sensibility plus one truly misery-inspiring head cold makes for some very odd dreams. I can barely recall them now but they was all very steampunk and thankfully, the concern that woke me, that I had neglected to consider a certain set of criteria when writing queries to meet Hugh Grant’s data needs, was quickly resolved when I realized that…well…it was only a dream. And really, I don’t recall (from either the book or the movie) that Edward Ferrars had too many pressing data needs.

I can no longer deny that I do indeed have a cold and let me tell you, it’s been a long time since I’ve had one so painful. I can barely swallow and my sinus pressure is through the roof and nothing seems to touch my headache. First thing in the morning will find me at the drug store buying all manner of…drugs. Usually I prefer to let things take their natural course, but I have so much going on right now that I cannot be too terribly tolerant of my annoyingly weak human body.

And here it is, my 3:00am insomnia witching hour.

Yay! I finally bothered to fix the silly line break issue with my feeds! So if you read my blog via a feed reader you will no longer have to suffer with one big block of undifferentiated text (which you probably already know, as you are likely accessing my blog via said reader and perhaps already noticing the difference…although I suppose I’d actually need to write a post of more than one paragraph to allow you to experience the full joy, so here goes).

Woohoo! Line breaks! Aren’t they pretty?

In other news I am up at almost-4am thanks to a combination of insomnia, a raging headache and, perhaps, a cold (although my official story remains one of allergies and sinus troubles due to a change in barometric pressure, so you didn’t hear it from me).

I took my first step into the IS department today. I knew that today would be the day but I avoided it with all my might, instead completing every last shitty task I thought for sure I’d dump on the successor to my current position. But eventually the moment came when I could procrastinate no longer and so with a deep sigh I pushed my chair away from my desk and walked across the hall.

I actually didn’t intend to stay and work. I planned to ask the IS director what he wanted me to start on and then hightail it back to my safe little cubicle and return to active project avoidance. But when he suggested that I could actually stay and work in IS, I had no good reason to refuse, and so stay I did.

I quickly realized what a difference a location can make. When sitting in my old cubicle I very much felt like I was still in my old job and that I really needed to do that job as opposed to taking on responsibilities for my new job. In fact, when I contemplated the thought of taking on new work, I felt overwhelmed and very unhappy, which was a significant reason why I resisted making the transition in the first place. But once I was sitting safely ensconced in my new job, my old job fell away like clothes at a nude beach and after a few minutes I was bare naked, frolicking in the sand and couldn’t even remember that I had ever worked anywhere else.

Of course, they did ask me to put my clothes back on and to stop getting sand in the keyboards but I didn’t care because by then I had been blinded by the IS department’s claim to popularity, their bottomless candy jar filled with peanut butter cups and kit kats and three musketeers and m&ms and mounds bars and so much more!

I did not have a chance to sample the candy (and I definitely was not going to be the fat girl who dives for the candy jar first thing) because my afternoon was filled with writing some of the most complicated code I’ve ever tackled. More often than not I was just guessing based on other examples and what I thought I knew or had once seen in some distant remote land long long ago and far far away. When I was wrong I felt the pieces click in place as I understood the correct way to do something and why, and when I was right, damn, I had to stop myself from dragging other people over to look at my beautiful code. I seriously considered bringing home some examples for the express purpose of posting them to my blog so that you could all ooh and aah.

Tomorrow I will not even give my old cubicle a second glance as I race by on my way to the candy jar my new seat in IS.

In other news, Operation Child Starvation has officially begun here on the home front. Also known as Operation No More Goddamned Fishsticks for Dinner, it mostly consists me making tasty dinners that my children then refuse to eat. Tonight, my four year old was the big winner after he managed to eat one whole bite. Last night I explained to them that if they didn’t eat dinner (in the vile form of soup and garlic bread) they would just have go hungry, but tonight I caved and fed them peanut butter sandwiches. I refuse to be the kind of parent who insists that they clean their plates (although I often insist that my four year old eat a certain number of bites) but I’m not sure how to get them to eat food that is actually good. I have this idea that if I just keep offering they’ll eventually eat it, but I fear I am just deluding myself.

On the bright side though, I’m eating really, really good lunches these days.

SELECT pasta FROM pantry WHERE label ILIKE ‘%fettuccine%’;

SELECT milk FROM fridge WHERE exp_date >= ‘2007-09-10′;

SELECT food FROM fridge WHERE ingredients IN (’salmon’,'alfredo’);

SELECT toothbrush FROM medicine_cabinet WHERE color = ‘purple’;

SELECT shampoo FROM shower_caddy WHERE contents IS NOT NULL;

SELECT * FROM children WHERE age >1 AND age <5;

INSERT INTO bed (item) VALUES (boy);