MiCasaLoca

Analyzing “Talking with your Mouth Full” Rule that Mom had

There’s a certain person in my life that will remain nameless…but he has become fun to watch.  I don’t believe this person is aware of how really gross it is to watch someone’s chewed up food move around in the mouth while one talks and somehow this person often loses a bit of the food which then clings to his lips and flutters while he talks.  This person is way over toddler-hood and should know better, but doesn’t seem to care (and it’s not John, who has been polite in that area-at least around me).  I used to speak up and say something as I was customary to do so, but over time I have lost interest in telling strangers that their tags on their shirt stuck out or that their zipper was undone.  It was a gesture of kindness that sometimes was taken in the wrong way (hey, I wasn’t looking at that area for the fun of it, I just noticed your red boxers sticking out!).  Now I sit back and watch the food hang from this individual and smile on the inside.  It’s not that I am laughing at this person; I just find the whole thing amusing and educational.  Now I know why my mother told me to chew with my mouth shut, and to swallow before I spoke.  It wasn’t for what people would see inside so much as for what might fall out.   

I have actually tried talking with my mouth full and find it terribly uncomfortable.  Not only does my tongue not have the freedom to move about, but also there really is the danger that the food will fall over my teeth and off my lips.  I can’t see how anyone could do it, and forbid that I do it on a congested day!  Then not only can I not breathe through my nose, but I am using my only source of air to speak.  Combined with the need for air and trying to keep the food inside the mouth while speaking, I can only imagine this person that I know must be restricting oxygen to the brain.  Of course, that would sort of explain some of his recent –and very odd- behavior towards me. 

Haunted Ground

I am congratulating myself on my recent triumphant. I checked out a fiction book from the library and read it from cover to cover. Now I know the answer as to why I haven’t really read fiction for a number of years; I don’t have the patience to wait until I can steal away time to read. I want to sit and read for 6 hours straight, an impossible feat when I work as a legal assistant and "house manager", the term I have adopted for my home responsibilities. I do not have to wait to see what will happen next when I am reading a recipe; it’s very short and if I am lucky, I will be able to see if the combination of ingredients truly lives up to the boasting of the author. If I am reading on how to assist Mari in her attitudes towards school or how to plant bulbs in the garden , I can take the bit of knowledge, store it in my brain, and use it when needed. This is not so when reading a fictionalized story as maybe I can store the information that I have read, but storing the information is unuseful as it only fuels my curiosity as to what will happen next.

Of course, I now appreciate why I would far rather read a novel than watch a movie...watching a preview for a movie is very disappointing as it nearly gives away the whole plot, but reading the back of a novel, the details are left hidden. Haunted Ground, by Erin Hart, was fantastic as the author wrote a story that led the reader, me, to another story. There were two mysteries to solve rather than just one. Haunted Ground is my first "grown up" fictional piece that I have read in quite some time (that wasn’t a requirement for school) and filled with wonderful details. I’m terribly tired of stories that have a brief story line without details, yet if too many details are thrown into the story, there can be confusion as to where the plot is going.

I don’t actually see myself reading another truly FICTION piece for a bit...now that I have been engrossed in the novel for the last 4 days, I have to retrieve the soured laundry from the washer, empty the mailbox, and compost the dead plants that died waiting for me to water them. Ok, I am only kidding, but I truly felt the house was left forgotten as I snuck away to read snippets of the story. Fortunately, Mari likes to read alongside me-with her own books, of course. She asked what my book was about...and as she is still struggling from nightmares, I couldn’t very well tell her anything...so I said it was a mystery about relationships. Which, indeed, it is. Don’t go to the website for the book-it will give away the entire plot. Or wait a few years. Maybe it will become a movie. Of course, then the previews will give the whole story away in a 30 second clip.

The 1930's House Wife and Me

I have just figured out the most amazing thing! Every night I do not have any time to blog or write as my life really is full of family...and this is not in any way, a complaint...but I just stumbled upon the most amazing discovery. Mari was watching a video for 30 whole minutes and I could have used the time for some un-interrupted writing, but I didn’t!! Instead, I put away my library books, emptied the big soup pot into freezer containers, heated dinner, cleared off the dining room table, and fed the dogs. Then, just as I was about to sit down and write, Mari needed help with her tape. Sitting down again, I typed for about 8 minutes...and then I realized dinner really needed to be served as it was later than normal. I had a whole 30 minutes that I could have spent writing, but instead life got in the way. The only difference between my life and a 1930's housewife is...none. Ha ha! So much for the feminist movement. So the 1930's housewife may not have worked outside the home, and thus, was technically able to have a few moments to do something she really wanted to whereas I do work outside the home, but then the chores at home are still waiting, beckoning me to complete them once my day job is complete. The only problem with this theory is that I have too many modern appliances to even consider comparing my home life to the typical 1930's housewife. I have a freezer, a deep freezer, a microwave, the vacuum cleaner, the washer and dryer, etc, etc, etc. And I have a husband who doesn’t consider house work and child raising as "woman’s work."

Newest most amazing discovery? When I analyze myself sometimes, I end up full circle. Maybe I wasn’t able to sit and write for 30 minutes like I originally had intended, but as my daughter practices her Russian (you thought she was learning Spanish, right...see future blog), I am able to write a little bit as the microwave cooks our dinner.

Positive Attitudes in Washington, D.C.

This morning I awoke to rain and gray skies, but something was different.  The earth was still warm from yesterdays’ 65 degrees (in early March!).  Somehow over the night, as it cooled, it was just chilly enough to leave the window open and wear a sweater.  By the time I had let the dogs out to our mud yard, it was raining quite a bit and felt like it had dropped 10 degrees.  Then on the way to school, there was a spot of something that looked like snow amidst the rain.  After I dropped Mari off, the snow had definitely intermarried with the rain.  When I parked, I forgot to bring my umbrella as the rain was gone and blowing snowflakes was in its’ place.  Now it definitely was colder and I was quickly reminded that I wasn’t wearing my customary leggings under my jeans.  As I raced my weary pregnant body down the sidewalk (which is 90 steps from the corner to the door after you cross the street), large clumpy snowflakes hit me in the face.  It was wonderful!  By the time I got to the office, the world had become a snow globe that some giant was vigorously shaking; snow went up, it went down, and it went sideways.  It is absolutely beautiful to watch.  I would far rather sit and watch it swirl than work…or blog….or anything else.  So I must return to my work (or Mark will only allow me one coal to the fire today)…but I would like to call the weathermen on WTOP and tell them to stop being so pessimistic for once.  Instead of using negative words to describe the weather, they should consider taking everyone’s spirits off of anti-depressant drugs by using colorful descriptions for what magic is taking place outside today!

Contemplating our Dogs, Briefly

Rory is our nice 3 year old female mutt who doesn’t have too many terrible vices. Sure, she loves to sit right next to the table and beg until I notice and tell her to leave...and she loves barking frantically at every little sound (causing Mari to jump and shriek), but she very gentle with children and obedient. Then there’s Echo. He’s our 17 month old mutt who loves digging holes, barking at strangers, chasing the cat, getting on the couch when no one is watching, and not coming when he’s called. Still, he has big brown eyes, wags his whole body to greet us, and when he gets into trouble, he lays down.

According to dog books, John, and experts, dogs use smell to identify each other. I usually assume this means smelling the back end. What I don’t understand is why Rory thinks that on a daily basis -and at random-she needs to lick Echo’s pee-pee. It’s not necessarily a pet peeve of mine, but I don’t understand how this behavior plays into "identification." She will be hanging out with him and then, in the next moment, decides to have a lick. It’s absolutely horrific and I try to stop her every time. John says she’s just identifying him, but I’m thinking...she knows who he was moments before, so why a lick...and why on the pee-pee instead of the rear end like all the other dogs do. Perhaps it’s a maternal instinct; she might think he needs a bath or the encouragement to go to the bathroom.

The "best" part about the whole licking thing of the pee-pee is often she thinks that I want to be nosed shortly afterwards. I know that dogs can have really gross behaviors, like finding a dead animal and rubbing their body in it, or eating other dogs’ poops...but this one is something I have never observed before (nor want to). I have seem Echo lick himself at random, but I supposed he’s just cleaning himself...or making sure that we haven’t removed that part of his anatomy as well. He’s not obsessive about licking that area...and probably doesn’t need to since she manages to clean it on a daily basis for him. He also seems to think that I want to be licked right after he licks himself. To them, we’re just a couple of dogs as well-so why not? They like to sniff to see if we are who we are on occasion, but for the most part, they leave us alone. We probably emit enough smell for them to identify us...and besides, we don’t smell very good anyway (we smell too much like soap and perfume-that’s yuck to a dog). I can’t imagine what the dogs are going to do when Gabito starts toddling around in his diapers....

Thoughts of Boyfriends

I met my husband this afternoon at the playground. Well, okay, I didn’t actually meet John as he is on another trip, but I met his twin from 14 years ago. The guy that I once dated in high school has the same name as my current husband, and the two share many of the same interests, but their physical features have changed significantly. The guy that I met at the park this afternoon had "bottle-bottom" glasses just as John once had; the guy was a tad bit overweight, and a bit too casual in his dress...just as John once was. The twin even had John’s hair color and eighties cut; John now wears a shorter cut and has a patch of grey hair. The two really could have been twins...if the guy had been around 14 years ago! I sort of wanted to say something like, "don’t give up, there’s a really special girl out there who’s going to love you for who you are...not what you look like." But then, we were talking about dogs, so that would be awkward! I had no idea that when I fell in love with my John that he would really truly become a Prince Charming. I am actually quite fortunate. Many men seem to change for the worse as they age...and their women do not (hopefully) love them any less. In my case, I have a man who keeps changing for the better...and not only in his physical appearance! He has exceeded my expectations for being an outstanding Dad! What a man! And then he’s got this whole husband thing figured out! The guy should really write a book! He is patient, and loving, and supportive, and sensitive...especially right now in my 7^th month of pregnancy when my hormones are on planet Zoopie...or wherever!! Ok, so we have our moments...but then, who doesn’t! And whose to say those moments aren’t because of my crazy hormones and the constant kicking of this little thing who claims to be an infant. But I know better! Gabito is gonna come out running!

So my daughter and I left that playground, and I said goodbye to my husband’s 14 year younger twin...without telling him that some special girl is waiting to fall in love with him. Or, if he is as lucky as John, some girl has already fallen for him and he won’t realize it for another year or so. Hopefully he will have someone adore him as I have John for 14 years and counting. And maybe, just maybe, he will metamorphis into a handsome Prince Charming, though that part doesn’t really matter as much as being a good Dad and Husband-(though it does help when the hormones go awry.)

Gross Idea

Wow!  I stumbled upon this site in error! It would make sense for Toys R Us to set up a store in the heart of Maryland's melting pot.  Toys R Us has really stretched out this time and I am glad I haven't had the chance to visit their store in Langley Park as of yet.  How ultimately gross!  Sure, we all know that Boys and Girls are DIFFERENT.  Duh!  But, to what extent are we different, and to what extent should we push difference? 

I wouldn't want to go to Toys R Us, or any store for that matter, and see the girls section cluttered with housekeeping items, baby dolls, and making oneself look pretty while the boys section has inventions, gadgets that go, and remote controlled cars.  Yuck! 

What does that scream to me?  You're a girl? You sit there, look pretty, make babies, and clean the house.  You're a boy?  Go invent, discover, learn, challenge!  Aughhhhh!!!!!!

Schedules Rethought

Ten days ago I had a chance to sit down and "blog". It was a moment for me. Four days ago I had my first pregnancy massage, an impossible feat as the date had already been rescheduled twice-and still, it was quite a hassle to arrange the time "off" to go. I couldn't help it that at the time that I had set the appointment, life was going to change course, persons were going to return from trips, etc.  I wanted that massage, but it was so hectic just getting to that moment. 

These are not complaints, just an honest voicing of how my life is. Short of setting the alarm and getting up to blog at two in the morning, my time and energy is extremely limited. Recently an observer stated that my blog seemed to be all about one person: me. I suppose I could say it’s my vanity page, but honestly, I don’t think my life is that exciting and therefore, am surprised to think that this blog is, indeed, really all about me. Naturally, I suppose I am a bit defensive as I think about all the blog bits that I have wanted to write, such as the recent change in Andrea Yates case and about the Sierra club attitudes about immigration. Unfortunately, by the time I do actually get to sit and write in my blog at the uncomfortable place that it is located at, I don’t have the ability to sit and blog for very long. Assuming that Mari isn’t begging me to scare off the boogey men on nights that John is out, I would still have to decide on whether or not I use my energy to do the dishes or blog. And then, He kicks- and hard!  It's unsettling as he tries to push his way through my belly button.  So when I do have energy and Gabito is not kicking (which isn't often), I want to sit and vent for a minute...so why do I feel like I am the "bad guy" for spending a bit of time blogging?  (Okay, I admit.  Last night I was a jerk.  Sorry.  My level of frustration brimmed over). 

In the summer there are so many activities to do, but here in the Maryland winter there are extremely limited outdoor activities.  If the snow stuck around-and there were lots of it-I could possibly see more activities.  Instead, we have grey skies, icy winds, and drizzly rain, that's about it.  Short of wrapping up in seven layers and taking a hike, I am left to hanging out indoors which cummulates into "cabin fever."   Combine cabin fever with lack of energy and I become a monster.   

I read Madeline's bit about schedules and it reminded me of my past... where my life was very scheduled... .  Those days seemed quite busy and quite clogged with activities.  Now, just like my blood pressure each doctors' visit, my activity level continues to drop.  It really does require energy to run about and thankfully Madeline, my sister, Margie, and most every other non-pregnant mother that I know have that gift.  The gift of energy. 

I have a gift.  It's called the "gift of being slow."  Not slow, like idiot, but slow like sloth, measured, deliberate, and unhurried.    I have finally slowed down, for once, in my short 29 years of life.  And funny enough, my family is very happy at this (temporary) new me.