Tag Archive for 'NaBloPoMo 2009'

It’s NaBloPoMo Day 10!

Today’s confession: I love taking things literally, sometimes too literally, but I never take things to Literally. I mean, I’ve never been to Literally, so how could I take things there?

This weekend, my daughter and I were invited to a baby shower. The night before the event, I was talking to Claire about our plans for the next day. That’s when she asked me, in all sincerity, if she was going to get water all over herself, too. You know, like the baby was. It was a Baby Shower, after all.

I laughed. That question totally made my day! I love finding things like this. Cemeteries at the end of a “Dead End” road make me giggle. Hearing my husband say, “I keep pressing the escape button, but I’m still here,” when he’s working on his computer makes me laugh.

I often take things literally on purpose, just to lighten the mood. Some people accuse me of taking things too literally, which is when I tell them that I can’t take things to Literally if I don’t even know how to get there.

Everywhere you look, there are things to take to Literally, so I should probably figure out how to get there. I have a feeling I’d really like it there.

It’s NaBloPoMo Day 8!

Today’s confession: I love to be spontaneous. In fact, I always try to leave time in the schedule for lots of impromptu things.

As funny, calculated and premeditated as it sounds, I do try to leave open spots on our calendar for impromptu things. If I didn’t make a conscious effort to be spontaneous, every day would be bordering on too full. If I didn’t schedule things the way I do, we’d miss out on the things we really wanted to do.

It’s an intricate game, finding balance. All work and no play makes Momma grumpy, and it defeats the purpose of her quitting her “real” job in the first place. When you figure in preschool, ballet, MOMS Club activities, and spending time with other friends, Claire and I could be out and about every day of the week. Throw in other responsibilities, and the days burst at the seams. Yet, on the flip-side, open, unstructured days stretched out over the vast week can make it hard to keep a preschooler occupied, especially if that happens day after day.

I am a perfectionist, so it’s no surprise that I love structure. But, I’m a casual perfectionist, so it’s not necessary for every minute of my day to be regimented. Sometimes, just one activity in a day is enough structure to keep us from becoming untethered, and I’m just casual enough to be totally fine with a day when we don’t have anything planned at all. In fact, those days re-energize me.   (There are days that I purposely leave completely open and unfettered, for that very reason.)  But, if you string too many of those unstructured days together, I get antsy.

As it stands now, we’re busy, but it’s a fun-busy. Juggling what we have to juggle keeps life interesting. I do have time to be spontaneous, and I love that. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping things just busy enough to keep us out of trouble and not so much that we’re run ragged.

I’ve found balance between the two, and it works for us.

So, anyone want to be spontaneous with us? Let me know, and I’ll pencil you in.

It’s NaBloPoMo Day 4!

Today’s confession: I will spend more time avoiding little projects I hate, than it would actually take to get them done.

We all have the little necessary projects we need to do throughout the day to keep things the way we want them. The end result is great, but it’s no wonder that these projects are the embodiment of their nickname: chores.

For me, it’s a chore just getting up the motivation to do them!

I’m a perfectionist, so it’s no surprise that I like things to be just so, but that doesn’t mean I’m not casual about it. I will let the dishes sit in the sink for a day. I will keep the clean laundry hidden from view, it’s unfolded mess mocking me from behind the laundry room door. I will avoid completing these tasks for longer than it would actually take for me to do them.

Why is that?

I love the feel of a clean kitchen, the dishwasher unloaded or quietly running with its next load. My thoughts can flow easier when the mail isn’t cluttering my dining room table. Knowing that the laundry is not only sorted, washed, dried and put away, makes my heart go pitter-pat.

So, what’s the hold up? These things make me happy, so why am I so good at procrastinating the small stuff?

Is it because I don’t procrastinate the big stuff? I may have a momentary, “Wow, this is gonna be big! I’d better get my act together!” thought before jumping into a big project, but I’m not the procrastinating type. I’m usually the, “Okay, guys! Let’s get this show on the road! What are you waiting for!?” kinda person.

But you can’t tell that by my dishwasher. It sits all day, bursting at the seams with clean dishes while the dirty ones pile up in the sink.

You can’t tell that by my dining room table. Show up unannounced, and you’ll see all the mail for the week, piled right there. (Well, you won’t find the bills or important documents there. I am a perfectionist, after all, and those will go straight to the file in my office. I’m not completely uncivilized. I’m talking about the magazines, newspapers, ads, and junk.)

Do you know how long it takes to unload my dishwasher? I can do it in less than 3 minutes. I kid you not. I timed myself one day. (Okay, truth be told…Claire was in the time-out corner, and I needed something to do while I was in the kitchen.)

Do you know how long I’ve spent fretting about not unloading the dishwasher? All day.

None of this is surprising to me. I am a perfectionist, so the fact that I’m worried about these things fits my personality. I know that I’m trapped in this cycle. I know how this story ends, and yet I go ‘round and ‘round. I know that these chores take mere minutes from my day, yet I spend hours avoiding them.

Now, if you’ll excuse me; I think I hear the dishwasher reaching the end of its cycle. It will be time to unload it soon…

…or not.

It’s NaBloPoMo Day 2!

Today’s confession: I remember very vividly the day I thought I’d gone crazy, and I remember being totally okay with that.

Have you ever gone crazy? Have you ever thought you’d gone crazy? Are you afraid you’ll go crazy? My friends and I joke about going crazy all the time…but there was one day I thought it had all come to fruition.

Before we get to that story, here’s a little back-history.

It’s no true secret that both sides of my family tree include some fruit of the nut variety. I say this with kindness and love. I’m not making light or fun of those with mental challenges. It was always just a fact that some key players in my genetic past varied from a wee-bit-wacky to a little more full-tilt.

And that’s okay. I accepted that. I’ve learned enough about genetics to know that some things get passed on through the ages, and some things don’t.

So, back to the story…

The year was 1995 or 1996, and I was in college. I was nearing the end of my time there, and I’d been working so hard. The hours I was keeping were insane, but I wouldn’t have changed them for anything. I’d spend time with my friends until Midnight or so and then study until 3am or 4am and then sleep until 7am. Then, I’d go to my campus job, working for one of the Department Heads before starting my full day of classes and doing it all over again.

I was living on 3 hours a sleep a night and filling in the gaps with caffeine. Spending time with my friends was necessary for my mental health. Studying the way I did was necessary for my academic goals. Working the hours I did were not negotiable. I’d try to make up my sleep on the weekends, waking up at the crack of Noon on Saturdays, and that seemed to keep me sane.

But, unlike my time spent in the Breastfeeding-a-Newborn-Every-Two-Hours Trenches 10-years later, I loved it. I wasn’t exhausted. I was exhilarated. I was empowered. Everything was falling into place, and my plans to take over the world were coming together nicely.

Until the day I thought I’d gone crazy.

I’ll never forget it. I was taking a shower. My dorm had a shower room across the hall from my room. I had a particular stall I liked, and it was available. Today was going to be a good day! (What? Once a perfectionist, always a perfectionist.) I was about to shampoo my hair when it happened: Little tiny letters appeared all over my hands. They were little black letters. I wasn’t dreaming. I was very much awake. They were so crisp and clear. They weren’t blurry. They weren’t a figment of my imagination. They were really there. I touched them. Some of them moved around, and some of them got on my fingers.

Some of the letters got caught in the tiny streams of water from the shower and got stuck on my stomach and my leg. Some of them washed down the drain.

The letters looked so real, but my brain knew they couldn’t be. There was only one rational explanation.

Rather than panic, a feeling of peace came over me. It had finally happened. I’d finally gone crazy, and it hadn’t happened in a violent way. I’d finally lost it, and part of me had always wondered what it would be like. I wondered if I should keep the secret of my insanity to myself or if I should tell someone. Would they let me finish my degree if I’d gone crazy?

As I’m having this conversation with myself, I decided to focus on the task at hand. I needed to get my shower done, and then I could figure out what to do with the fact that I’d gone crazy.

I pick up my shampoo bottle again. That’s when I noticed something strange. The lettering on the back of my shampoo bottle was smudged. The little letters were coming off. I touched them with my fingers and they stuck to my skin like little appliques.

I hadn’t gone crazy after all…my psychosis was actually a faulty shampoo bottle label.

Or was it?