-
Go Nigel, Go!
-
Would You Like To Buy My Monkeys?
Jul
19
Exercising, Er, Exorcising Demons
by Leslie
I used to have panic attacks.
They started during my junior year in high school and went on for nearly a year. Two or three times a week, about an hour after I’d fall asleep, I’d wake up gasping for air. My chest would hurt and I’d feel dizzy. Once, I even lost consciousness and ended up in the hospital! I still don’t understand why they happened. At the time, my doctor seemed to think it had something to do with stress. So, he helped me devise a relaxation routine that included music, stretching and guided imagery meditation.
I always started my relaxation routine with a song I loved: Book Of Days by Enya. It was the same song I listened to when I went running.
Yes, I used to run.
“Really?” ask the skinny people choking back laughter.
Yes, really.
“Yeah, like when you were 8 and they made you run laps in gym class.”
Um, no. I was 16 and vain and trying to attract boys!
Anyhow. I hadn’t listened to that song in a long, long time. Years, even. Then, I came across the CD last week. I transferred it to my iPod and a few nights later, after everyone else was alseep, I gave it a listen. You know, for old time’s sake.
It was amazing. Within fifteen seconds, my body began to relax. From my feet up to my face, I started to feel all warm and liquid. I closed my eyes and for the next two minutes, I almost believed that if I opened them up, I’d find myself in my old room. I relished the sensation. But when the song ended, so did the feeling. I was back on earth.
The next day, as Julia played and I sat stranded on the couch breastfeeding Lucy, I flipped on What Not To Wear. I’ve caught bits and pieces of a lot of those kind of shows - What Not To Wear, Clean House, Ten Years Younger - while breastfeeding Lucy, because they’re one of the few grown-up shows I can watch without fear of Julia walking in and seeing something inappropriate. Like Mankini.
The woman on the show was talking about some horrible thing she’d gone through and how she’d been hiding out in her body, under unattractive clothes, as a result. And I thought about all the people I’ve watched lately, coming to terms with their bad habits and baggage and how they all answered the question, “How did you get to this point?”
And then I looked down at the fat bubbling up over my pants and asked, “How did I get to this point?”
I thought about the 16 year old me that I’d glimpsed the night before - the girl who was having panic attacks. Over what? My hair and make-up and whether or not I was skinny enough to wear that strapless dress to the homecoming dance. In all fairness, there was more going on than that, but the thought that I was having stress-induced panic attacks then is laughable, because two years later, we learned that my dad was sick and I learned what stress really was.
It was fattening.
When my dad got sick, it was sort of horrific and sudden, so much so that my mom developed post-traumatic stress disorder. I drank my way through college, as you do, and graduated fifty pounds heaver.
Less than a year later, my friend died. I gained twenty more pounds.
Six years after that, my failing marriage finally succeeded in failing and by then I’d gained so much weight, I’d quit counting the pounds. I wouldn’t even get on a scale. In fact, I hadn’t really looked at myself in a mirror in two years.
Now, when I look in the mirror, I can’t help but feel as if I’m wearing my past. My father’s illness, my divorce - they hang on me, literally weighing me down.
I’d always assumed the weight would come off when I reached that “acceptance” stage of grief and got my certificate of completion. Not that I thought that I would wake up one day and, like magic, the extra pounds would be gone. (Athough, that’d be nice considering, in my mind, that’s how I put it all on. I just woke up one morning, looked in the mirror and called my mom, “Hey, did you know I was fat? Yeah? For how long? Because I just now noticed.”) I did, however, think that one day I’d wake up with the will to make them disappear. But that day hasn’t come yet.
I’ve been spending a lot of time, lately, wondering why.
Jul
14
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
by Leslie
You may have noticed that My Mommy’s Place looks different.
I’m not even going to try and act coy about it because, people, this is a BIG deal to me. I’m not so great at changing things I’m attached to. And this site? This site was like my baby. My little electronic baby. Boop boop. Beep beep. I love you, electronic baby.
I remember exactly when it was born.
Julia was only a few months old. It was one of those hours you’re not sure whether to call late at night or early in the morning. And she smiled at me for the first time. I knew at that moment that this - being a mother - was what my life was about. It was like I’d experienced a miracle. I never felt so high, and yet so lonely, in my life. Dave and I hadn’t been married long and, frankly, our marriage was pretty rocky at that point, mostly because he wasn’t around much then. My mother lived hours away. There was no one to share this incredible experience with. So, after Julia fell asleep that night, I went to my computer, opened up Microsoft Word and started to write.
I continued to write, creating what would become my website nearly everyday for a year and a half. It kept me sane. I wrote about how I felt and the things I’d learned. I wrote it all to mothers - the mothers I knew had to be out there going through the same things I was going through, feeling the same things I felt.
In April of 2006 - cue the drumroll and cymbal crash -I published it on-line. And there was silence. After four months of trying to promote it, I finally added a blog and found what I’d been looking for - honest interaction with other mothers. Blogging was just about perfect. I could connect with people, even when I was up breastfeeding at 4 a.m. The downside was, I learned that the rest of my site was crude and outdated. But I wasn’t ready to give it up, so I kept trying to improve it and make it grow. All the while I fell more in love with blogging. The result: Sybil the website and a very tired me. My Mommy’s Place had developed a split personality; I was suffering from exhaustion. It just wasn’t healthy. So, I’ve pared it down to the part that is relevant now (including the six phenomenal pieces my favorite people wrote for This Is Motherhood).
Go to mymommysplace.com. You’ll end up right here. This is My Mommy’s Place now, in its entirety. The old stuff is gone. Well, not gone. I still have it on a disk. I get it out and caress it while a single tear trails down my cheek now and then. But, it’s no longer on-line. Something tells me no one will miss it. (That something is my site statistics.) Not even me. It’s time to move on. LIVE IN THE NOW, I say.
So, I hope you enjoy the NEW! My Mommy’s Place. If not, that really sucks because I blew a whole weekend updating it.
Jul
9
Julia, On God
by Leslie
“Mom, what does God look like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen God.”
“Well, I have.”
“You’ve seen God?”
“Yes.”
“So, what does God look like?”
“Like the guy on the dollar bill.”
Jul
8
“Here’s your lunch. I’m sorry. It’s like the worst lunch ever.”
“It can’t be worse than the last lunch you packed me.”
“What did I pack for you last time? I can’t remember it.”
“Exactly.”
Jul
7
This morning as we lay in bed, Dave suddenly shouted, “I’m going to disappear!” and pulled the blanket up over his head and quickly turned away from me.
From inside his cocoon he called out, “Danger! Danger!” in a robot voice.
“What?” I asked as I sat up and drew closer to him.
Then he launched a loud and noxious blast of ass gas.
Jul
5
Hello, Dave here just to let everyone know that we are still alive and doing great. Well, that isn’t entirely true as we have been without any internet service since Sunday and each day that passes slowly sends Leslie closer to the edge of reality. Personally, I hope to have service restored before she throws the remote through the television the next time that @#$& HighesNet commercial comes on.
We are trying to keep our Daily Haiku going (just click that banner at the top there), and you can get an idea of our frustration.
We are hoping Leslie will be back in action in a day or so. If not, somebody come looking for me because if our internet doesn’t get reconnected soon - bad things are gonna happen.
Jun
27
My Little Entrepreneur
by Leslie
Today at the Farmer’s Market…
Julia: “Hi! We’re selling Mama’s buckeyes. They’re a dollar! Would you like one?”
Customer #1: “Well, how can I resist that? Sure. I’ll take one.”
Julia: Takes the dollar, studies it, then stows it away.
Customer #2: “Good morning! What do we have here?”
Julia: “We’re selling buckeyes. They’re fifty dollars!”
Jun
24
How I Spent My Monday
by Leslie
I got the idea from here.
Jun
22
32. It’s Gonna Be A Good Year!
by Leslie
After singing me Happy Birthday, Julia blew out the candles on my cake.
My mom grabbed the matches and said, “Here, let’s light them again and let Mommy blow them out this time.” But before I could do it, Lucy had a poopy explosion in my lap.
Then Dave shouted, “Happy Birthday, Mommy!”
Indeed.
Jun
18
A Dump In The Life
by Leslie
I walk into the bathroom, close the door, pull down my skivies and before my butt hits the seat, Julia bursts through the door. “Mom, I gotta pee.”
“Well, hold on. I’m going right now.”
“Okay.” She stands there and looks at me. “I don’t hear anything,” she says, “I don’t hear you peeing.”
“That’s because I’m not peeing.”
“What are you doing then?”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“Pooping?”
“You got it.”
“Alright. I’m gonna go out here, but I’m leaving the door open so I know when you’re done.”
“How about you close the door and I’ll come out when I’m done.”
“Okay.” She walks out and closes the door. Approximately 45 seconds later, the door swings open, she pops her head in and says, “You done yet?”
“No. I am not done. Close the door. I’ll come out when I’m done.”
“I could stand here and wait on you.”
“No thank you. Please close the door.”
“Well, I was just hoping you would be done right now.”
I make a polite suggestion. “You could go upstairs to the other bathroom.”
“That’s alright.”
“Okay, well…please close the door.”
She closes the door, but stays inside the bathroom.
“Julia?”
“Yes?”
“Will you please go outside and close the door?”
“You’re still not done yet?”
“No I am not. Please, just go out and close the door.”
She obliges, but spends the remainder of time I am in the bathroom banging various rhythms against the door while giving me play-by-play commentary on what is happening outside the door. “Daddy is holding Lucy but she’s real squirmy. I think someone’s hungry! You better hurry! Lucy needs you! Christy is sniffing my shoe! Oh, no. There’s an ant….”
Finally, I am done. Julia knows this because she hears the flush, so she rushes right in and makes her way to the pot while letting her pants fall to her ankles. I begin to wash my hands as she is climbing on and she says, “Mom, can you please leave? I like to use the bathroom alone.”
-
I Write A Haiku Each Day
-
Categories
- Daily Haiku
- Mommy’s Stuff
-
You Should Do This
-
Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
