Friday, May 30, 2008

It's That Time Again, So Please Hold Me Tight

I fly later today. I'm almost fully convinced that this is the year for me to lose all my fears, since this is the fourth flight I take this year, and I have two more to go between June and August. This is a record for me, and I'm thisclose to taking it as a sign of something larger. What, exactly, I haven't figured out yet. But 2008 is really pushing me to be more fearless than I thought I needed to be or that I'm comfortable being. This is actually a concept very present in my mind, but we'll come back to it some other day, since right now I'm in fear for my life.

By now, we all know the drill when it comes to me and flying, right? So here we go again.

This trip is one I planned months ago, one I'm excited about because I get to go to New York City and spend time with two people I love very much. Who doesn't get excited about a girls' weekend in NYC?? But I'm feeling very anxious and am having the same thoughts about leaving Max orphaned - how that may traumatize him forever, or how he might not remember a single thing about me and how much that thought devastates me.

Of course, given everything going in my life right now, this extra degree of anxiety makes a lot of sense from a logical perspective. It's just too bad I have no logic when it comes to flying.

Too often lately, I find myself thinking about my little boy and how fast he's growing. I think sometimes that if I blink, I'll miss something important, but have to balance that with my belief that he needs space and encouragement to be independent. It's hard to tell your child to do something new and different, to leave him at daycare, to tell him to go try on his own - when all you want to do is hold him and squeeze him and breathe him in and never let him go. And with all the uncertainty I'm swimming in, it's now a daily struggle to not overdo it and maintain a degree of balance.

So there's that. There's Max and my fear of leaving him motherless. But there's also my own fear of exploding at 37,000 feet at such a crucial time in my life. Damn, that would really suck. I know it's not for me to determine whether or not it's my time, but I have a very strong opinion on the matter, and - NO, it's not my time to go just yet.

Funny, but it really helps to just write this all down. Writing usually does that for me, but not when it comes to flying. So I'll be thankful for this moment of calm when getting the words out of my head seems to be doing the trick.

I really am anxious and scared, though. But it'll be o.k. I know it. It will.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/30/2008   | | | links to this post

Thursday, May 29, 2008

My Downward Spiral is Happening Very Fast

I had an errand to run tonight to my favorite discount pharmacy. I showered before I left, so I got off to a good start.

I threw on my ratty jeans that I love so much because they hang off me and are soft and frayed and perfect, and an old t-shirt I got at Target and my flip-flops. Nothing special, a little on the sloppy side, but totally me: I wear these jeans, flip-flops and either a tank top or T all the time; it's my uniform. So I think I was still on a pretty decent path.

Then I decided to forgo makeup (not even lip gloss!), because seriously, it was 8 p.m. and I was just running down the street, and I'm more prone to not wear makeup (all right, except concealer). Considering I opted to not even dab on my beloved concealer, I think that's where I started to slip.

Then I chose to not put any jewelry on (same reasons as the makeup), and I knew it was over. I can easily do without bracelets or necklaces or rings if I'm just running a quick errand or doing stuff around the house (but not much else, because like a good Cubanita, I like to be bedazzled with at least two or three pieces of jewelry at all times), but not earrings. Never earrings. Not wearing earrings makes me feel naked. Beyond naked, like a vital piece of me is missing. So this choice to not wear them is key: it is what proves that I'm slipping, slipping, slipping down, down, down.

At the store, I started out by sticking to my simple list: vitamins, shave gel, deodorant. But then I reached the food section, and some small part of me snapped. I went for the red bag of Lindt; then I grabbed one of the best soul-soothers ever: a Hershey Bar. King size. I kept browsing the aisles, and grabbed a pack of vanilla wafers before heading to the register. I was already feeling guilty, knowing I've been working hard this week to eat healthily. So I turned around and put it all back.

But at the register waited the greatest temptation of all: cremita de leche. There was no denying it, no reasoning with myself. I quickly decided that if I was going to be a sloppy, makeup-free, earring-less sad sack of a woman, I may as well do it right.

And then I went to 7-11 and bought a Coke Slurpee. I didn't even have the decency to wait till I got home. I sat in my car, music blasting as I drove, and scarfed both the cremita and the Slurpee in about five minutes flat.

I was thinking all the while, oh, yeah, I might be slipping, figuring that the next step is to spend my next free Saturday night glued to the TV, watching depressing movies, pigging out on pizza, Fruit Loops and Capri Sun - so that I can be a complete cliche.

Oh, I kid. That's not gonna happen. Who ever heard of a mother having a free Saturday night?

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Posted by Tere @ 5/29/2008   | | | links to this post

Monday, May 26, 2008

What Will We Tell the Children Readers?

When I started this blog, I knew from the beginning that while I wanted this to be an open, honest chronicle of my life, there were some topics that were going to be off limits. My childhood. My marriage. Those topped my short list. I've never viewed this blog as "therapy" or as an exposé of all aspects of my life. For that kind of release, I have my old-fashioned journal. Or, if the mood strikes me, an anonymous blog where I can write about whatever I want to without fear of any problems arising.

My choice to avoid certain topics has been driven my need to protect what needs to be protected; to avoid drama; to not air my dirty laundry; to respect the privacy of the other people involved. Some things are just too fragile - they have no place here on the Internet for the world to see.

I think that overall, I have done well in keeping a balance between being open and honest but also keeping private what I want to keep private. But there are times when I struggle with this choice because I may be feeling something that I need to share here but can't, because it will just further complicate things for me offline. There is, too, the fact that this site has developed quite a readership, and no matter how hard I try to ignore that (in a good way, so that I keep writing for myself and not for you), I admit that I think about these readers and what I may or may not owe them.

I have made new friends through this blog; I have gained new writing opportunities; I have discovered people and worlds who entertain and educate me. I have also grown as a person through the process of examining myself, my challenges, my thoughts and feelings, and through all I've learned from other bloggers, be they new local friends or people far away who make me feel like we're not all so alone after all.

So surely, I owe something back.

I have been going through some stuff that no one ever really wants to go through. Even after weeks of thinking about this post, I'm still at a loss for words, for what on earth I could say to communicate honestly about all of this without getting too deeply into something that's very personal. I'm struggling here.

This isn't just about whatever sense of obligation I have to my readers, or to being open and honest here. It's also about me and what I'm going through and how my life is changing and how I'm dealing with it all - and the role this site plays in my life. And the truth is that I can't move on and heal and all that stuff and at the same time avoid the topic here. It's not realistic to me.

This is the part where I get stuck, where I keep deleting the paragraphs and staring at the blank space for half an hour. Because this is the part where I have to write that my marriage has ended, definitively ended, and that the life I've known, the life I'd thought I'd have, is over.

There is no way for me to get into the details of the hows and whys here: there is not enough space, and this is not the place for that. Those general cliches - we just couldn't make it work, we are too fundamentally different - will have to suffice (and they are true in my case). We did all we could do until we could do no more. Now all that's left is taking apart the life we built while protecting our son and finding a way to work well together as parents.

The sense of loss and failure and overall suckiness I feel have made for some very difficult weeks, and I know there are many more ahead before I really feel better. This ending was a long time coming, but it makes no difference when it's slapping you in the face. Even the few silver linings - there is no hate or hostility between us; we're really working together for Max's sake; family and friends have been wonderful - don't lessen the sting.

Everything has changed, and I know that my writing here will reflect my struggle with all this and my efforts to adjust. Still, I will maintain the same degree of privacy I've practiced up until now, protecting what still needs to be protected, and respecting everyone else involved.

I'm sure you will all understand my decision to close comments on this post - I want no pity, nor any words of recrimination against Ben or myself. Even words of encouragement are going to hurt right now. As much I need to reach out, my instinct is still to pull in and close up.

I'm now on a path that is both terrifying and completely foreign, and I have no clue what the hell is going to happen next. I want to believe it will all be o.k., and deep inside I know it will be, but right now, there is just this - the sadness and emptiness and overwhelming sense of failure.

It will all be o.k. But before there is sunlight in my life again, I have to embrace and survive the darkness.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/26/2008   | | | links to this post

Saturday, May 24, 2008

I Have Deep Things to Tell You

Just not today, for my brain is a muddled mess that is incapable of stringing words together coherently.

Then again, I'm never at a loss to share the random thoughts that float in my head. Those thoughts, I admire them for their resilience. For even though I'm drowning in a world of thoughts - and I can assure you those thoughts are a big fat mess of all kinds of IMPORTANT MATTERS - these random pieces of fluff manage to stick, manage to catch my attention, manage to make me stop and indulge them and devote precious time I should be focusing on the IMPORTANT MATTERS on them instead.

So here you go; do with them as you wish:

1. I am in desperate (DESPERATE) need of a foot rub. (Oh, I forgot to tell you all about the accident I had a couple of weeks ago where I twisted my foot, didn't? Well, I slipped, grabbed a railing to prevent a fall, and ended up twisting my left foot. The left side of my left foot swelled up and I could not walk at all for two or three days. After my icing and elevating of said foot, everything seemed better. But over the last two or so days, my foot has started to hurt again and I'm once again limping and in lots o' pain. I'm sure I could go get an X-ray and get it taken care of, but honestly, I don't have an entire day to waste waiting around for them to call my name so I can get the X-ray then have the doctor barely even give me any attention. No thanks. A foot rub would make me happier.)

2. I need a sleeper sofa.

3. I fly in less than a week. Hold me.

4. I seriously, seriously, seriously need to get my shit together and start a real work-out regimen. No, I'm serious. The situation is dire. My thighs can't get any bigger. I can't handle it. Help me. Hold me. Make it go away.

5. The ant infestation in this house is driving me crazy. Crazy, I tell you. Those f***ers are everywhere.

Oh, and there's more, but I keep getting distracted. This is me lately, unable to focus on any one thing for longer than five minutes.

Thank goodness Monday is a holiday. I need it more than you know.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/24/2008   | | | links to this post

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

A Different Me (Updated)

I will be different, I tell myself. I look in the mirror, anxiously looking for some sign of change, something external to prove that I'm serious about being different inside.

But there's nothing, obviously. In fact, it seems as if my face is harder. I think I look normal but the expression on my face is one of dead seriousness - anger, even. And I think about something I've noticed whenever I look at pictures of myself: at the moment the image is snapped, I think I look "normal," no particular expression, just standing still to capture myself as I am. But inevitably, all those pictures show someone who looks upset.

Maybe it's the shape of my mouth, the way the corners turn slightly down. Maybe it's the way my cheeks - which retain a touch of chubbiness - meet with my mouth, creating a slight line that just makes me look unhappy unless I am purposely smiling.

So I can't go by what I see in the mirror. All that I have going on inside - whatever new sense of purpose, whatever feelings of strength and confidence and hope, whatever need for rebirth - none of it is visible on my face.

I am different. But my face feels like my enemy. My face - with the dark circles under the eyes and the crooked nose - has never been able to properly hide my true feelings. And now, when I'd like it to reflect something besides the tension and frustration I've long carried with me, it can't. It is instead just part of what is to me an unflattering picture - an unremarkable face, a body beginning to show the signs of age and heritage, a soul convinced that people look at her and only see (and judge) all the flaws, faults and ugliness contained in there.

But I am different. And I don't know how to express that - what words to use, what muscles on my face to move, what clothes to wear or what movements to make so that it is clear, clear beyond doubt, that I am not who I was 10 years ago, or seven years ago, or four years ago.

This different me is a better me - healthier, happier, hungry for life. And I like this me; I think she is funny and quirky and just a tiny bit endearing with her anxiety and insatiable appetite for everything. I may feel naked and vulnerable and criticized and judged in front of others, but in front of the mirror, seeing me as I really am, I am o.k. I like what I see.

I will be different, I keep saying to my reflection. But I don't mean that in any fundamental way. Who and what I am now - the things I've kept and those I've left behind - is good.

And overall, I quite like this me. I like her a lot.


*******************************************************

Update: Per Balou's comment, I'm posting a picture of my nose. The arrow on the left shows where my nose juts out; the one on the right, where it curves back in. So basically, it's like a weird "s"-type situation. And believe me, it gets worse every time Max knocks that hard head of his into my face, which is at least once a week.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/20/2008   | | | links to this post

Thursday, May 15, 2008

I'm a Slob! A Slob, I Tell You!!

All right, I’m taking a poll: how many of you think you have a clean house? How many of you clean your homes (maybe not in every nook and cranny, but pretty much top to bottom) every week?

Honestly now!

Because the truth is, I am an awful housekeeper. I hate it. I get no joy out of scrubbing or mopping or making things gleam. I hate the drudgery, and, since having Max, the pointlessness of it all. Why bother with the scrubbing and picking up when a certain little one is going come along within five minutes and mess it all up?

It’s that *logic* that’s out me in the hole I’m in, where I can’t stand all the toys and clothes everywhere but am too exhausted and overwhelmed to do anything about it.

Keep reading here...

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Posted by Tere @ 5/15/2008   | | | links to this post

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

A Tropical Girl in a Foreign Place

There is a lot about life in Miami that wears on me on a semi-regular basis. From the traffic to the politicians and their general ineptitude to the skyrocketing cost of living to how rude and thoughtless people are, my Miami shit list is a long one. I go through regular phases where I pick a new place, research it, make some kind of plan, only to talk myself out of it a few weeks later. So far, in the last one or two years alone, I've "moved" to northern New Jersey, North Carolina, Vancouver, Portland, Denver, Maine, South Carolina and Seattle.

So why do I not do it? There are a number of reasons. Some are as simple as my strong desire to have Max grow up around his family, but most of them are actually very personal and complicated. The act of picking up and starting over, however alluring and exciting it is, is also beyond terrifying for me. Miami is all I've ever known, and Miami is a world unto itself. I wonder how I'd fare somewhere else, especially because although I have never felt this way here, I understand that everywhere else, I'm a minority, and I worry about how that one little thing would impact my life, from the way people perceive me to the opportunities that may or may not unfold.

Still, as I look at my life here, I understand that something has to give. If Miami cannot be a smarter, kinder, better place, I may grow more dissatisfied and restless. As much as I want my son to be surrounded by family, I also want him to have the kind of childhood that maybe Miami can’t provide. I have to consider that. I have to face my fears and think about the bigger picture and decide what will honestly be best for us, and go from there.

And while I have never lived anywhere else, I recognize that I adapt well to change. I’m not one to wallow long in the sadness or hardship of anything. For all my pessimism, I really do look for a silver lining in everything. And simply put, when something is what it is, I just adapt and make it work somehow. So I don’t really worry about my ability or inability to find my place somewhere else; it’ll happen, one way or another.

But there are limits. While I seek a place that’s safe, clean and progressive, with a better general attitude and lower (or at least, not higher) cost of living than Miami, there are places that I ultimately can’t see myself in. For example, Iowa. No offense to the beautiful people of Iowa, but the thought of Des Moines does not make my heart sing (as it does for Seattle, let’s say). The general middle part of this country holds no allure to me, does not make me feel like I’d be *home* there. But still, if the chips were to fall in such a way that Kansas or Oklahoma or Nebraska were it, I’d go and find something good about it. I’d be fine. In reality, there is really just one type of place I can never, ever move to: anywhere there’s bitter cold.

Forget Buffalo or Fargo or anywhere in Minnesota. You can pretty much forget Wisconsin, too. Because you see, while I can leave Miami and my family and have a good attitude about ending up in the middle of nowhere, I simply cannot adapt my body to the cold. I am, in the end, a tropical girl, hot - not warm - blooded, and to deny me warmth is to pretty much kill me.

I don’t do well in the cold, specifically in the cold that’s accompanied with a lot of wind. While I love cold days, I think the mid-30’s is my limit. Unless we’re in the middle of deadly summer heart, I don’t even like to use the A/C in my car. The windy cold just has an awful way of getting under my skin and into my bones. You want to make me miserable? Put that cold in my bones and leave me to suffer it. When things get to that point, nothing works and I’m useless. I just want to crawl somewhere (underneath some heavy, luxurious blankets) and whimper.

So it’s funny to me to realize that when I think about the possibility of leaving the only home I’ve ever known, it’s the heat and all that comes with it that affects me so deeply. It’s just that there is so much about living in a place like this that makes it unique, and more importantly, endears it to my heart.

I was in the shower yesterday as all these thoughts were floating in my head, and it was the appearance of a baby Mediterranean gecko in my shower that made it all click. This little bugger’s been in my bathroom for weeks now, and last night, he decided to hop into the shower. He freaked me out when he jumped on my foot, and once I screamed and shook him off, he settled into a corner and seemed quite happy there. And I found myself thinking, only in Miami or an island somewhere can something like this happen. And it was in that moment that I realized how much I love weird crap like that, the kind of weird things that happen only in places like Miami, where the heat and pervasive sense of primitiveness make life surreal. I like this a great deal - the primitive and the surreal and the way they make life so much more interesting and lively than it otherwise would be.

Whenever I’m asked about my “dream place,” it’s always somewhere tropical, always an island. Perhaps I subconsciously yearn for the Cuba I’ve never known, but my ideal always involves water and sand and tropical fruits. Have me climb a tree for a midday snack and tell me I can sleep in a hammock, and I’m the happiest girl ever.

But what are the chances that I’ll end up in Hawaii or Cuba or the Virgin Islands? Chances are much higher that I'll end up somewhere like Portland (for whatever reason, the west captivates me the most). So as I think about all the places I may end up, my thoughts turn to keeping my tropical nature alive, to finding ways to keep what I love about life in Miami with me. To keeping the surreal and the primitive. To being a little more like what I love and will leave behind.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/14/2008   | | | links to this post

Monday, May 12, 2008

Mami Ain't Nothin' But a Booger Holder

My son is convinced that I'm here on this earth for the express purpose of holding his boogers.

His finger is barely out of his nose before he's holding it up, shrieking, "Mami, look, moco!" My excited response - "Wow, look at that!" or "NO WAY!!" - is not enough. He continues to wave his boogery finger at me, and when I ignore it, he tells me, "here, take it!" and shoves it into my hand. And there I am, a decent-looking, funny, smart, professional woman, with a hand full of my son's boogers.

That the situation has reached this point is my own fault. In the beginning, it was a game, a fun way for me to teach him a new word. When I would clean his nose, and later, when he began to pick it, I would tell him, "eso es un moco", "that's a booger," so he would know the correct name for it. And when he was younger, I would wipe his finger (with a napkin or wipe or towel or my shirt) because he couldn't do it himself. Somewhere along the way, though, he came to accept this as the way things are even though I've long been encouraging him to wipe his boogers on a wipe or his own shirt or whatever's nearby, so long as it's not my hand.

But no. Only my hand will do. If I'm in another room - he'll find me and and insist - "here, mami, here" - until I either take it or he sticks it on me. If I'm driving, he practically flings it over if I don't lean back and relieve him of his boogery goo. I am equated, in seemingly every way, with boogers.

As I struggle to figure out who and what I am now that I'm a mother; as I try to mesh the mother with every other part of myself; as I fret and panic over how others perceive me, wondering if they can see ALL of me and not just the fragments, there is one definition that is for now definite, one that in the end, might best describe me: booger receptacle for a stubborn two-year-old.

Of all the things I thought I'd be, this wasn't exactly on the list.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/12/2008   | | | links to this post

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Perfect Sunday Afternoon

There is something about my parents' backyard that makes it a perfect haven for me. Sometimes I think it's way the sun shines there - never full on but instead in beaming and glistening in between the mass of plants and vines; other times, it's the large wooden play set and the way the kids revel in it for hours on end; still other times I'm convinced it's the trees and the shade they offer, the way they help create the perfect breeze. The large royal poinciana is bare right now, but full, so very, very full, of buds - buds that in a matter of weeks will burst as bright red-orange flowers.

More so than even my own beautiful yard, my parents' is a refuge for me - I feel nothing but peace and contentment whenever I'm there.

So this afternoon, sitting in the swing under the trees in the late-afternoon sun, was perfect. There was a wonderful breeze, my son was squirting everyone with a water gun, and in my hand I held a sweet, strong cafecito.

Throwing my head back and looking up at the blue sky through the bright green buds, I felt a peace that I haven't felt in a long time. For a few minutes, I knew everything would be o.k., even if I don't know right now what that means or how I'll get there. It was enough to know just that - that all will be o.k. and that many days of happiness lie ahead for me.

The moment passed and the spell was broken, but I am holding on to what I felt then - to the peace, and to the hope.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/11/2008   | | | links to this post

Saturday, May 10, 2008

After the Day I've Had So Far, I Totally Deserve to Goof Off

Oh hell. This child of my heart and soul is killing me. He's been an abominable pain in the ass all friggin' day. It is only now - at 4 p.m. - that he's finally gone down for a nap. Normally, if it's this late in the day, I just keep him up and forgo the nap; but I so need that nap today!

I'm in a particularly good mood right now - not exactly sure why, considering the general funk I've been in lately, but whatev. I won't question it and will just enjoy it.

And by "enjoy it" I mean, come up with more true but random status updates, since right now I think I'm most clever for having come up with this. So!

Tere...

... is watching Father of the Bride (remake).

... spent two blissful hours at the book store.

... desperately needs to wash her hair.

... predicts rain, because her legs ache oh so very much.

... is going to have a fabulous brunch tomorrow.

... was thisclose to kicking her boy's butt today.

... needs to hit the gym.

... is hungry, even though she just ate.

... thinks the third person is hilarious.

... hates manicures.

... loves pedicures.

... is nervous, very, very nervous.

... gets fidgety when she's nervous.

... is craving chocolate.

... is entering a self-help, hippie-dippie phase - one can only hope this will be a good thing.

... refuses to give up.


Colbie Caillat Lyrics

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Posted by Tere @ 5/10/2008   | | | links to this post

Little Man

Max is with me in bed this morning, snuggled up against my neck. The return of my insomnia has meant that I don't sleep but a couple of hours a night, and those not even very well. I've been spending my nights either wide awake or somewhere between sleep and half-consciousness. Hungover. I feel hungover.

I was in this state when he began to squirm. He adjusted himself, then readjusted. He shifted up, then over, then across my chest. I knew he was waking up but trying not to; he does this almost every day. It's as if he's still tired and wants to keep sleeping, but is also afraid to miss out on anything. He'll sacrifice sleep to be in on the action.

I, meanwhile, clung to whatever sleep or semblance of sleep I could have. I noted this, the way my son was fighting to wake up even though he was asleep, while I was fighting to sleep even though I was awake.

Finally, he could take no more. He popped up, yanked my eye mask off, got right up in my face, and yelled, "peekaboo!" And with that, he was off - jumping on the bed, off the bed; running around the bed; yelling at me to "look!". I have no choice but to get up and start my day, which sucks at 7:15 a.m. on a Saturday.

From there, we head to the living room, where he asks for a cartoon. The problem is that he doesn't know which one, and so he tries to open the glass door of the media cabinet. I step in, before he grabs everything and hurts himself, and run down the list of available DVDs for him to choose from (but not really - I just name three to make life easy for both of us). As I stand there, waiting, he taps his chin and contemplates: "uuummm....", "hhhmmm", "uuummm." We stay this way for what seems like ages, until I tell him to choose or there's no cartoons.

As he watches The Jungle Book, he chatters to the screen and turns to me to point out the animals, the trees, the boy. He shouts, "careful!" and imitates the elephants and snake. He turns to me when I start coughing to ask, "You o.k., mami?"

Who is this little man? Our days are routine and unexciting, yet there is always something new with him - new words, new gestures, new expressions. And, most shocking to me, new understanding. The way he communicates and grasps concepts amazes me, even though a part of me know it's as it's supposed to be. And yet, I am constantly moved, constantly caught off guard by this creature who is so sturdy and smart and stubborn and wily. And I wonder, will he ever cease to surprise me? To make me laugh? To make me want to break into tears?

I hope not. I really, really hope not.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/10/2008   | | | links to this post

Friday, May 09, 2008

My Status Has Been Updated (Updated!)

Damn that Facebook status thingy. It's got me hooked. I'm such a sucker for mindless things like that - it falls in line with my never-ending fascination with those surveys and questionnaires that get emailed dozens of times, or Twitter. It's an easy way to pass the time, to get creative, to communicate to the world all your random thoughts (or be passive-aggressive, as that seems to be popular with this application). And heaven knows I've never suffered a shortage of needing to communicate something, anything. Much like Twitter, it's a phase. I'll be all into this for 3 days before I'm over it.

The problem with the Facebook status thing is that it's not user-friendly, at least not to me. Someone would have to be obsessively refreshing my page to read my pearls of wisdom and angst, and in-between all the clutter, you stand a good chance of missing half the stuff that's written. And that just won't do. Also, I have no time or interest to be on Facebook all day and would like to curtail my presence there.

The answer is to give you all the possible status updates I can come up with right here. Sure, I may not know what I'll be feeling or doing in a few hours, but I can take a good guess or make it up or decide that now and act on it later.

Picking up where I left off on Facebook, Tere...

... isn't buying this bullshit.

... didn't sleep a wink last night.

... doesn't know what to wear tonight.

... is cranky.

... really likes that song "Realize" by that Colby(ie?) girl.

... is still choosing to be positive but has lost most of her self-confidence.

... doesn't know how to read signals.

... doesn't want to read signals.

... intends to look smoking hot tonight.

... wants to be found.

... needs to shower.

... wishes patience came easier to her.

... had a funny flashback to the old MDCPS days this morning.

... feels the door shutting.

... is working on her branding.

... is melting in this post-rain heat from hell.

... needs to run errands tomorrow.

... has said too much.

... is sweating and should go turn down the a/c.

... killed a roach.

... is feeling better.

... is going to be still for now.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/09/2008   | | | links to this post

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Newsflash: Breastfeeding Makes Kids Smarter! For the 2 of You Who Didn't Know That

I'm reading the news about a new study that shows that breastfeeding makes kids smarter, and I'm like, no shit, Sherlock.

Really, why is this news now? We've known this for ages. I sound so ungrateful, and believe me, I'm always happy when the benefits of breastfeeding gets some play in the mainstream media; I'm just more annoyed with the mainstream media itself than the actual study. And if you really read the news item, it's actually really interesting and compelling and sure to cause a ruckus somewhere because a doctor is quoted as saying that women who breastfeed are in and of themselves smarter than women who don't, which, whoa. That's gonna cause some backlash.

Anyway, between this and the news that national breastfeeding rates are at their highest in 20 years, it's a good week for the cause.

So yay. And all that good stuff.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/06/2008   | | | links to this post

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Tidbits

For once, no chit chat, just straight links.

* Every post I write at GNMParents makes it more and more obvious to me that I am one clueless puppy. Also, I've made the site my own personal self-help portal.

* For the love of Carrabba's... I so love that place. The new one in town is perfectly lovely.

* Ocean Spray has a new product, and I tested it.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/04/2008   | | | links to this post

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Please Don't Make Mami Cranky First Thing in the Morning

There is just one thing I need to get my weekend off on the right start (well, besides tons of Max kisses and snuggles): my coffee and newspaper.

All I request is a chance to savor my precious Costa Rican beans while reading the paper. The TV can be blaring, the dog barking, the child running like a madman. I don't care. I just want my coffee and paper.

That short while helps me get ready for the day in a good attitude; it's important to me. A lack of paper and coffee leads to a cranky, off-kilter Tere who feels like her day just isn't right.

But every single weekend without fail, as I settle in on the couch with my goods, the same scene plays out: Max catches a whiff of the "cafe" and runs to me, whining at my knees for some. He clambers up beside me and shoves his precious little face right between my paper and my cup.

The spilled coffee and torn newspaper sections are inevitable. In the end, I don't mind that I can't have my way and enjoy this morning routine. Such is life with a two-year-old, right? What I mind is the whining in my ear and the tantrum that results when I deny him coffee. You can set your clock by it. I'd give anything to run and hide at that point, because the grabbing, pulling and yelling are really just too much for this uncaffeinated Tere.

The funny thing is that I ultimately end up reacting the same way every time: fuming, sulking, with a side of cursing. I'm as bad as he is, unable to just get it and accept it.

That's what's turning out to be the hardest part of this parenting gig: my child is just like me. Which means we're screwed.

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Posted by Tere @ 5/03/2008   | | | links to this post

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Yet Another Vague and Not-At-All Helpful Post

Oh, hello. This blog is still around? Wow.

I kid.

I hate when days go by without my writing, especially when I know I've been cryptic and blah and all-around annoying around here for the last couple of weeks. For now, it'll have to suffice (both for you and my own constant sense of needing to explain myself) when I say that life right now has hit an, um, snag, to put it mildly.

You know how sometimes you feel like you've shared so much of yourself with a friend and all of a sudden you realize that to not bring them in into major things seems wrong? Like, you owe them more than that? That's pretty much how I feel right now with this blog and those of you who so faithfully read it.

I want to bring you in, but. But I just can't. Right now the timing isn't right and everything feels too uncertain and raw and fragile for me to say or do much. I hate how dramatic and mysterious that sounds, but that's just how it is.

The most I can give right now is the assurance that it's not a matter of life or death. It's not something positive in any way, but I'm not feeling like my life is over. It's just... just the way life is playing out.

Anyway.

We must soldier on, right? So how about you be all lovey and supportive and go vote for me here? My last post is up for the prestigious and coveted SFBD Post of the Month, and frankly, I want to win. I'm up against some folks I know and love, but eff them; this baby's mine!

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Posted by Tere @ 5/01/2008   | | | links to this post