Posted by Kimberly on February 27th, 2008 — Posted in Kipple
Sitting in the ultrasound suite today, it occurred to me that I am far better acquainted with my daughter’s internal organs than I ever wanted to be. It bothers me that I can look up from holding her hand and identify the Zen Baby’s kidney or pancreas on the computer screen. The shape of her toes, the arch of her brows, the curve of her lips–these are the features a mother should be able to identify in her child, not the shape of her pancreas, the arch of her kidney, the curve of her intestines.
Much though I’ve become blase about these semiannual returns to the scene of the crime–this time around, rather than obsessing about the appointment in the week leading up to it, I forgot about it until the last minute–I do still find myself waiting with baited breath as we take that tour around her belly. I didn’t think I would this time; walking into the appointment, I had not one iota of fear that this might not end well. So it surprised me when I found myself bracing for the worst; however, it was only for a second and then my confidence that all was right in our world (and her belly) returned.
At this point, 3 years and 6 all clear scans in, it would be easy to look at these appointments as an annoyance. An inconvenience and the waste of an afternoon.
But then I think about where we could be right now, and how much more time we could be spending in hospital waiting rooms and I’m happy to sit in those depressing rooms filled with cheerful paintings, ripped picture books, and neglected toys, trying to entertain an increasingly bored child. I think of the shellshocked woman with the raccoon eyes I saw wandering the corridor on our way to our appointment with the surgeon, or I imagine the family in the exam room next door who were there for their first consultation, and I don’t mind our wait at all.
8 Comments »
Posted by Kimberly on February 26th, 2008 — Posted in Kipple
I’m trying. I really, really am. And I even feel sometimes like I’m getting somewhere. Until I turn around, look where I’ve been, and find that I’m right back where I started again.
I’m in a bit of a vicious circle right now. The house is, frankly, a tip. I am utterly demoralized by my living space. Which some could argue is an external reflection of my inner chaos at the moment. Basically, I’m depressed so I create a depressing environment that in turn depresses me.
And I’ll even cop to that, to an extent. I mean, I’m certainly at least partly responsible for how out of control it’s gotten around here. However, I’m not the only one who lives here. And while I’m certainly responsible for the recycling depot in the hallway, the past due kitty litter and the laundry pileup in my bedroom, I don’t think the toys scattered everywhere, the the books and crayons and barbies and dvds that conceal our floors, are completely my fault.
I took responsibility for it all anyway, though, because I’m the mom and that’s what moms do. Especially single moms who know that there isn’t going to be anyone else showing up any time soon to pick up the slack–or the crap off the floor. So, I spent a couple of hours on Friday excavating the livingroom. I cleared through layers of debris–Build A Bear clothes, lost webkinz, papers with a single crayon scribble, a Barbie harem….all of it picked up and put neatly where it belonged. I could see the floor. And once I saw it, I vacuuumed it! When I looked around before bed on Friday night, I felt a sense of contentment about this small corner of my world.
It took The Ladies less than a day to return us to our former state of chaos, leaving me once again feeling like I’m drowning in the quagmire that has become my life. It’s hard to muster up the ambition and energy to tackle the same task over and over and over again, knowing that there will be no real lasting results.
I do keep trying though. Every time that boulder gets away from me, I chase it down and (eventually) start pushing it back up again.
Today I tackled the dishes. Choosing snack options based on the dish situation was getting old, as was the spoonquest that had become a part of our regular dinner routine. So, I pulled on my brand new, super lined dishwashing gloves, grabbed a fresh antibacterial sponge and set to work.
I was in the zone. I was flying through those dishes, so high on my sense of accomplishment that I was actually planning which household chore I would take on next.
And then I felt it. A sensation connecting my fingers and the sponge that could only be described as “gummy.” An apt description, since it turns out that my finders were glued to both each other and the sponge by an abandoned piece of gum left in the cup I’d just washed.
It’s enough to make just want to push the boulder down the hill yourself. Or fling yourself in front of it to put yourself out of your misery.
9 Comments »
Posted by Kimberly on February 21st, 2008 — Posted in Kipple
The best description of depression I have ever heard goes like this:
Imagine that you are sitting in a chair. On the arm of the chair is a button. In order to get everything you ever wanted, all you have to do is push the button. That’s it. And yet, you just. Can’t. Do. It.
You want to do it. You how simple it would be to do it. You know it would make everything so much better if you would just do it. And yet, for some utterly inexplicable reason, you just can’t do it.
That’s how I’ve been living these last few weeks.
I don’t want to spend my days sitting in this chair, endlessly surfing the same 5 sites on the net and venturing forth only for grocery shopping, skating lessons, and Tuesday dinner with Granmma. I don’t want to be silent, unreflective, simply floating through my days in a pj’d fog. I want to be dynamic, energetic, and seizing life with joyful abandon. I want to be engaged with and excited by my world. Or, you know, showered.
The medication has started to lift the fog enough that I can see the button sitting there, but not enough to actually press it yet. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself as I sit here in my PJs day after day, cut off from my world but not making much of an effort to reach out to reestablish those connections that are important to me. Then I came across this quotation today:
Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired.
It suddenly occurred to me that while on the one hand my depression has been very, very real, that on the other hand maybe it’s also gotten to be a bit of a habit. Maybe the reason I keep sitting here in my jammies, avoiding both living my life or reflecting on it, is that I’m simply out of practice.
So, I may not be ready to push that button. But I won’t know if I don’t try. And even if I can’t, I can at least flex my finger and try to get it in shape for the day I am capable of pushing it.
9 Comments »
Posted by Kimberly on February 14th, 2008 — Posted in Kipple
Letter To My Mommy
Thank you for all the things we do together. Thank you for taking me to Build A Bear Workshop and for comming on feild trips with me. Thank you for playing chess with me and letting me be your waitress when we were playing with Grandmas toy kitchen.
Thank you for giving me what I need. Thank you for giving me hugs and kisses. Thank you for giving me starbucks and putting me in skating and thank you for loving me.
Thank you for Loving me. Thank you for loving me and for letting me use webkinz. Thank you for making me and for giving me food.
I love my mommy.
*this post was written by Diva Girl in lieu of making me a valentine this year.
9 Comments »
Posted by Kimberly on February 13th, 2008 — Posted in Kipple
Over the past couple of years, V-Day has gotten to be less of an event that it used to be around here. Not that it was ever a big event for me–I was never particularly into the whole candy and flowers cabal even back when there was someone to buy me candy and flowers. But to Diva Girl, Valentine’s Day used to rank only slightly behind Christmas and her birthday in the catalogue of important annual events.
Now that she’s a world weary tween working on perfecting her aura of angst and ennui before she reaches those all important teen years though, those sparkly licensed protestations of love and friendship hold slightly less allure than they once did. Sure, she’s still a big fan of the candy and the cupcakes and the class party, and she still carefully considers her options at the drugstore before selecting the exact right box of commercialized affection to express her inner cool, but she no longer hoards those shiny pieces of foil paper, obsessively reviewing her haul long after everyone else has moved on to other holidays. Her love affair with the Valentine appears to be nearly at end.
The Zen Baby’s, however, is just beginning.
It started with Diva Girl’s fancy Tinkerbell valentines. The minute Sabrina brought the box home, Regan was all about those shiny pieces of cheap cardstock. She loved them with the deep and abiding passion only a preschooler can muster for something that is not hers. The fact that she doesn’t have anyone to send “valentimes” to does nothing to lessen her conviction that she needs them. Unfortunately, her sister shares this conviction, despite the fact that there were more than enough in the box to share.
You’d think that a quick trip to the Dollar Store would be an easy out from this particular sibling skirmish, but you’d be wrong. Buying the Zen Baby her own box didn’t end the Valentime War, it only changed the battlefield on which it was fought.
With each girl in possession of her own box, the special “Teacher” valentine became the coveted piece of holiday capital. Sabrina wanted it because she has 2 classroom teachers and her box only came equipped with one valentine–admittedly a perfectly valid reason. Regan wanted it because, well, it was hers–which, really, is all the rationale you need when you’re three.
Diva Girl is not one to give up easily, however. So she appealed to her sister’s sense of reason, arguing that it was a teacher valentine, so she should have it because it was meant for a teacher, not just anyone.
Zen Baby’s defense left me speechless:
“I’m giving it to Mummy, because she teaches me stuff so she’s my teacher.”
You know, it may only be from the Dollar Store, and her “signature” is scribbled all over the picture, but I think it’s probably the nicest valentine I ever got.
11 Comments »
Posted by Kimberly on February 11th, 2008 — Posted in Kipple
I’m here.
I won’t lie. Last week was bad. Very, very bad. I want to lie in bed all day with the covers over my head, I wish I had amnesia so that I could escape myself without the guilt of taking responsibility for doing so bad.
I don’t know why last week like that. There was nothing special about it. Nothing to send me down the rabbithole of despair like that.
But that’s the thing about depression, right? There’s often no real rhyme or reason. When you’re depressed, it’s about something. Some event happens to make you sad and bring you down. Depression, however, is the insidious encroachment of despair. It’s a cumulative thing, linked not to a single incident or event, but to life in general.
I love my life. Truly I do. I have so many things to appreciate and enjoy–from a reasonably nice apartment and a very flexible job to fake friends on the internet, to the fact that I am about to celebrate the third anniversary of my youngest child’s survival in the face of all logic. And yet, I find myself still here, in this place where my words are silenced and my senses are muffled.
The drugs are working. I no longer feel the intense anger that can so often be depression in disguise. The problem is, that anger and frustration has been replaced by a feeling of vagueness. It’s not quite sadness. It’s not quite ennui. It’s just….not quite.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s better than the anger and the frustration and the overwhelming feeling of being, well, overwhelmed. But it’s still not living. And I am so ready to have my life back.
13 Comments »
Posted by Kimberly on February 4th, 2008 — Posted in Kipple
Why are long weekends so LOOOONG?
We had a PD Day on Friday, effectively turning it into a holiday weekend without the holiday. Add to that Diva Girl’s undrugged sickday on Thursday, and it made for a very, very long long weekend.
On the one hand, I suppose it was nice that she had another day to recover, but didn’t have to miss any school. On the other hand, the charming combination of cabin fever combined with that particular form of aphasia that only affects children, making it impossible for them to comprehend their native tongue when spoken by a parent made it a bit harder to appreciate the healing properties of another day off school. Especially when the knowledge that there are two more days just like it is looming in the back of your consciousness.
Maybe that’s why when Diva Girl suggested this morning that maybe she should stay home one more day, just to be sure, I started laughing hysterically. If she really does hack up some lung tissue at school, I’ll feel guilty about it. But really, she does have two of them….
6 Comments »