beenie

I vahnt to be aloooone

You said it, Mel.

It is a gorgeous day - sunny and in the high 40s/low 50s. I've been invited by some good friends to go caching with them while Bryan's at work, and I declined. Why? Because right now, as much as I love spending time with them, I want to be home. I want to spend the day in my nice quiet apartment with a few open windows, doing whatever it is that I do when I'm home by myself (which usually includes cooking, cleaning, laundry and snuggling with my kitty - nothing exciting, but I'm by myself, and that's what matters).

In other words, I want to be alone. Sunday afternoon is my "me" time. Sure, it sucks that Bryan and I only have one day off in common, but the day off that we don't share (Sunday for me, Friday for him) gives us both time to be on our own to "recharge and rejuvenate," as Mel so accurately described it.

I already have a chuck roast in the crockpot for dinner later, which we'll share with our friend whose caching invitation I declined. When I step away from the big, glowing box that is my computer, I'll clean the kitchen and bathroom, tidy up the living room and probably throw in a load of laundry.

When we were still doing Friday nights, I'd get home from work and lounge on the couch with a book or magazine, even a catalog - it didn't matter - and read in complete silence until the sound of the door buzzer let me know that it was time to be social - and even then, I'd usually retreat to the confines of the computer room, where I would - as Bryan put it - "hold court" until the majority of the people left. I'd always have people in there with me, but it was a place for nice, relaxing, muted conversation, in sharp contrast to the bustling, energy-filled activity in the living room.

Geez, I don't even like when it gets loud at work. Sometimes I wonder if my desire for peace and quiet stems from working in a call center. My guess is that it does.

Signs of Spring

After I dropped Bryan at work this afternoon*, I had a couple of errands to run. I did so with the car windows open (not fully, but it's a start) and wishing I knew where my clip-ons were. I passed one of those illuminated signs that gives the time and temperature, and it was 50 degrees.

We've reached the high 40s-low 50s a couple of times already, but those days have been so windy it's not been nearly as enjoyable as it is today.

I opened the windows when I got home and aired out the apartment. I had to close them after a while because it got a little chilly inside, but it was so nice to have some fresh air.

We've only lived in this apartment since November, so I don't know what it will be like in the spring. However, since we are in a corner unit with a sliding door and two big windows on the north side and two big windows on the east side, my guess is that there will be a positively delicious cross-breeze. I can't wait.

We're currently limited to one car - there's something wrong with Bryan's beloved Outback, and we need to wait until our state tax refund comes in before we can fix it. Thank goodness we both work in the same town, for the same company, and it's only 3.5 miles from home. I have no idea what we would have done if we still both worked 30-45 minutes from home, in opposite directions.

Okay, well, yeah, I know what we would have done - Bryan's parents would have helped us out, as they always did, but I'm thankful that it's no longer necessary. We might not have the funds to fix it right this minute, and we might have to wait for the refund to come in on order to get it done, but luckily we're now in a position where we can survive with one vehicle until that happens.

Seen here and there

Sig line of a member of a message board I frequent:

If we treated everyone we meet with the same affection we bestow upon our favorite cat, they, too, would purr.

Very fitting, as I sit here typing with one hand, a dozing, purring kitty on my other shoulder.

Kiss me, I'm Irish!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, albeit a bit late. As I write, I have a nice big corned beef happily bubbling away in the crockpot with some beef broth, onions, garlic powder and a can of Guinness. Potatoes, cabbage and carrots will be cooked later. Some friends will be coming over for dinner, and for dessert we'll have homemade Irish Soda Bread, from a recipe given to me by the proprietor of our favorite pub*, whose parents were "right off the boat."

Life is good.

He also makes the best cosmopolitan I've ever had. We were out last night, and of course I started with a cosmo, as always. A woman saw me happily sipping the best cosmo in creation and said "oooh, that looks good, what is it?" I told her it was a cosmo and she said "I think I'll have to have that next." I asked her if she'd ever had one before, with the intention of letting her taste mine if not, and she said she had. I told her that Pat makes the best cosmo I'd ever tasted. She did indeed have one later in the evening, and I asked her how it was. Her reply? "Pretty fuckin' awesome!"

Conflicting emotions

And just to further illustrate the conflicting emotions I have about my dad (for reasons other than the ones already mentioned), I'll share this...

At my wedding, the song I used for my father-daughter dance was Teach Your Children by Crosby, Stills and Nash. I thought the lyrics were very fitting for the way I feel about my dad:

You, who are on the road,
Must have a code that you can live by.
And so, become yourself,
Because the past is just a good bye.

Teach your children well,
Their father's hell did slowly go by.
And feed them on your dreams,
The one they picks, the one you'll know by.

Don't you ever ask them why,
If they told you, you will cry,
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you.

And you, of tender years,
Can't know the fears that your elders grew by.
And so please help them with your youth,
They seek the truth before they can die.

Teach your parents well,
Their children's hell will slowly go by.
And feed them on your dreams,
The one they picks, the one you'll know by.

Don't you ever ask them why,
If they told you, you will cry,
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you.

Someone played it on the jukebox at our favorite pub last night - I got a little misty, as I do every time I hear it. I love my Daddy and I know he loves me - I just wish it wasn't so damn hard sometimes.

Clarification

I've gotten a few questions about my previous post. To clarify...

I didn't really grow up with a conscious sense that I was unwanted by my father. In fact, the possibility that my father never wanted kids - or the possibility that we didn't exactly happen the way he had planned, leading to resentment - had only crossed my mind within the last couple of years. I know he loves me and my sister, and I'm sure that he loves my mom in his own way (though he has a lousy way of showing it at times).

And part of me wonders whether it wasn't necessarily that he didn't want kids so much as he hadn't realized what an inconvenience we would be. And I don't even know if inconvenience is the right word, I just can't think of a better way to explain it.

But it would certainly explain some of his past behavior.

And Malia, I'm glad it opened a little bit of dialogue with your mom - I'm all for open dialogue with parents. With all the talking Bryan and I have been doing about starting a family, I'm trying really hard to get there with my parents. I'm starting to get there with my mom, but I'd be hesitant to try to open that same dialogue with my dad - not for fear that he'd confirm my tenuous suspicions, but for fear that he'd evade/ignore/blow off the fact that I'd even thought of it. Daddy's not a big one for talking about his feelings.

I guess that after so many years of growing up in a family where feelings are suppressed - and certainly not talked about - that I almost feel like I don't have a right to bring up that sort of conversation. And my dad would probably confirm that I don't, at least as far as he's concerned. I'd never really thought of it much before, but now that I'm on the verge of starting a family of my own it's really come to the forefront for me. I'm not really so much "messed up" by it as I am scared that I'll do it to my kids.

How many?

Last time I was in NY, I had a conversation with my mom. I don't remember what exactly what it was about originally, but I distinctly remember asking her if my dad really ever wanted kids. She said she didn't know.

My mom was about halfway through her pregnancy with me when my parents got married, and for as far back as I can remember, my parents have never had the healthiest relationship. I remember when I was younger asking someone if my parents only got married because of me. I don't remember who I asked, but I remember being told that they had been together for a few years, and probably would have gotten married eventually. Looking back on everything I've seen and heard in my almost 30 years, I'm not so sure about that.

So, getting back to the aforementioned conversation with my mom, I said "so in the 3-plus years you were together before you got pregnant with me, not once did you and Daddy discuss having kids?" She doesn't recall ever having such a conversation with my father.

I started thinking about it more and more after having a conversation with a friend of mine, who is currently struggling with whether she wants to have kids, during which she told me that she doesn't think her parents really wanted kids, either.

There are a lot of people who are very unhappy to learn that they're expecting, only to come to love that baby-to-be more and more every day and fall head-over-heels in love with the wee little thing the second it's born. But I wonder how many people in this world were born and raised by people who really didn't want them. People who weren't thrilled about finding out they were expecting, who carried that attitude into raising those kids? I'm not sure it makes a difference if it's one parent who feels that way, or both parents. And I wonder how many of us are thoroughly screwed up by knowing that, no matter how much our parents might protest, that we were probably not quite as happy an accident as they let on?

Bryan and I have been discussing kids a lot lately, and I know from the get-go that when we find out we're expecting, you'll never find a child who is more love or more wanted. God, I just hope we don't fuck it up.

Baby's First Book

I bought this book a few years ago for a child who still doesn't exist... my own. I want to teach my child/children something my parents never fully outright taught me, in word or in example... never take more than you give back.

I don't want to sound like my parents are greedy, selfish people, because they're not. Not deliberately. I never really saw them "take," in the real sense of the word, but I never really saw much "giving back," either. We went to other people's houses every once in a while, but it was rare that someone was invited into our home. When I would go somewhere with friends, it was always the friends' parents who drove... never mine. I slept over friends' houses, but was never allowed to host my own sleepover. When I was in junior high, my best friend, H, attempted suicide and spent a couple of weeks in a mental hospital - my father wouldn't bring me to see her (something about the hospital being too far away, as I recall), and the father of one of my other friends - a friend who didn't know H from a hole in the wall - stepped up in a heartbeat. Just little things like that. I've never known whether it was because they didn't want to be bothered, whether they didn't want to deal with other people's kids for whatever reason (part of me wonders whether my dad ever really wanted kids in the first place), or because they just didn't think to reciprocate.

I want my child to know that's not okay. I hope to be able to teach them by example. We love to do things with and for our friends. Before we moved, we hosted a weekly open house every Friday night for over 3 years. Whenever we go camping, Bryan takes it upon himself to make sure we have enough food and supplies in case others don't have enough. We've babysat for friends in need on a moment's notice. And we've just been given the greatest honor I believe a friend can give to another friend - we've been asked if we would be the guardians to our friends' newborn in case anything ever happened to them. My parents just don't have that kind of friendship in their lives. I don't know what I'd do without it.

I'd like to think that we've done a pretty good job of sowing the seeds of good friendship, and that we're beginning to reap the benefits. That's not to say that reaping the benefits is the reason we try to be good friends, good people in general, but it's nice to know that we have people we can trust in a crisis, people who sometimes know more about us than our own families do, who won't judge as much as family sometimes can, people we would trust with the lives of our future kids, and who trust us with the lives of theirs. I'm so blessed and lucky to say that we have many such people in our lives.

I'm not saying that to toot my own horn. I'm not always the greatest at giving more than I take. I can be a very petty, jealous and selfish person, and once the kidlets start coming, I want to make sure that I can tone it down. While we've been good at friendship with some people, we've not always tried our best or hardest with others, and I regret that. I want to make sure that the petty, selfish, jealous, "bad friend" part of me never has the opportunity to come into stark relief compared to whatever good qualities I possess.

Which is why I love the message of this book. Maybe it's just as much for me as it is for the future baby.

Interesting

Having worked in the telecom industry, I find the AT&T/Bellsouth thing... interesting. However, I'm more curious as to Brother J's reaction. You out there?