Dillon's at 6th and Lawrence sells real Coca-Cola, in 355mL bottles. Real because it's made with sugar and not corn syrup, and yes, you can tell the difference if you're old enough to have been cola-swilling before 1985. As soon as I took a sip, I had a distinct taste flashback to when I was very small. Freaky AND delicious.

Google Street View is helping me catch up with Belvidere. This is better than actually driving down the main drag, because I can go slow enough to really gawk at everything, instead of trying to catch the changes at 30MPH while simultaneously avoiding oncoming traffic and refereeing a backseat argument of Tony and Dominic's.

It looks like my parents have added a fence around the house and planted some trees out front. Man, I never realized how tiny the house was. It's like one of those dinky two-story houses you see on Kentucky St, one room wide and custom-made for a malnourished pioneer family. The house was once a grocery with living quarters on the second floor, and we found crates and old merchandising stuff in the crawlspace under the bathroom addition, just off the regular basement. I'd put the square footage at about 980.

I also never realized how tiny Belvidere is, as a town. Seriously, it would take about 45 minutes to stroll from one end to the other. I'm going south on State St. right now, trying to figure out if the little diner by the fire station is still in business.

Next week is going to be busy...Monday and Wednesday nights, I have CE classes to attend. Thursday is dinner at Wa with the pharmacy crew, to say goodbye to K. Friday and Saturday night, Tony is in a musical at West. Friday night is ALSO the Breeders at the Bottleneck.

The Oncology nurses are pushing me to get more involved. I don't mind this at all, as the more I understand about what and why we're treating, the more likely I am to catch an error.

I am currently plowing my way through all of the John Bellairs books. Gothic horror novels for middle school kids, with illustrations by Ed Gorey. Still great, twenty years later.

K is very happy with American Gods (one of her goodbye gifts from me), and is finding it to be a real page-turner. That is awesome. Neil Gaiman, I scored you another fan.

Lawrence Half-Marathon

I'm reading The Last Picture Show, one of the books Nick has to read for his sports lit class. Larry McMurtry is one of those writers whom I tend to forget that I like.

The lab had a TGIF at Johnny's, to celebrate Lab Week. I convinced another tech to come down and hang out with me, and we kicked back with the lab crew. I came home and mowed most of the lawn, and then picked up Tony from a school dance. The girls were acting like trollops, and the boys were nothing to act like a trollop over. You couldn't pay me to be fourteen again.

I'm trying not to think about the fact that one of my favorite pharmacists stopped working here today. I bought her American Gods and Anansi Boys as a goodbye gift, since she really liked Stardust when I lent it to her last year.

For the goodbye lunch, we had Chipotle. I learned that, when I eat a Chipotle burrito very slowly, as in taking a few bites here and there in between checking orders, I get full before I'm a third of the way through. Three meals in one!

Wow, I really didn't expect to have such a revelation last night, but a lot of things are becoming clear to me. The reason I resented Lisa for handing Nicole over to me wasn't because I thought she was a bad person. I was mad because she got to walk away and I didn't. I'm no better a mother than Lisa, really. She loves her kids as much as I do, she just couldn't relate to them until they grew up. I can't hate her for that.

I'm also having some insight on my mom's actions. January of 1975, she'd just been in a car wreck and broken her pelvis. She got pregnant with me a month later, and then I stayed in an extra four weeks until the middle of December. She must have been miserable. She was simply overwhelmed, and how she reacted wasn't good for any of us, but I think I know how she must have felt at times, the poor woman. I can't absolve her of putting herself before us, especially when we ended up being abused, but I understand a lot of the crying and not getting out of bed. It was an angry house and we kids fought constantly. I don't think she always meant to be cruel, I just think she should have never had kids. Being a parent made her sick and miserable.

I think that's enough "moments of astonishing clarity" for now.

Last night, I told Tony that it's perfectly okay if he and Dominic never have kids. Parenting is a hard, thankless job, and I don't think most people are cut out for it, myself included. I don't have that parenting gene that makes me happy to pour my energy into raising children. I resent the forced giving every day, the immense drain on my time and energy. I regret getting pregnant, and the best thing I ever did was get myself sterilized. I didn't plan on either of my pregnancies, they just happened through a mix of ignorance (Tony's), failed birth control (Dominic's), and chance. I followed through with my pregnancies for all the wrong reasons, the main one being I was too poor to afford an abortion. Medicaid won't cover abortions, but they will cover the entire cost of prenatal and postnatal care, plus insurance for a year after the birth. The other main reason with Tony: I thought I could undo some of the damage done to me by my parents. "Perhaps if I raise a kid without abusing it, I'll heal that big hole in my soul."

It didn't happen.

With Dominic, the other main reason was this: Tony was four, and if he was ever going to have a brother or sister, the time was now, so they'd have a better chance of getting along.

That didn't happen, either.

I'm tired of making myself feel guilty for my lack of parental enthusiasm. I make the best of things, but the reality of parenting is not like the commercials and well-meaning relatives want you to believe. I resent people who pester their kids for grandchildren. They just want their kids to be as miserable as they, the parents, once were. I can't wait for my kids to grow up and leave. And the pisser is, that still won't be the end. I will continue to worry about them from afar, and hope they're okay. I will care about them until I die or become too senile to remember them. It's a terrifying and terrible thing to know.


I read this little parable not long ago, and it rang true:

A cow gave birth to a fire. She wanted to lick it, but it burned her. She wanted to leave it, but it was her child.

That's parenting. You've been warned because I care.

I planted trees, today, and found out 1) what was backfilled into the yard, and 2) how wonderful the original soil had been.

We'd tilled the garden a few weeks ago, and hit clay and gravel after three inches. From what I can tell, there's just enough dirt to keep grass alive. This is in the backyard, where the ground was disturbed pretty much everywhere as the house was constructed and the basement was dug. Since we're fairly close to the river, I expected SOME clay, although not quite so close to the surface. When I planted trees in the backyard, however, I found broken glass, garbage, and more gravel. The front half of the property was able to be left as is, and the dirt there is rich, black, crumbly and goes at least two feet down (a cow pasture was there for the last 100+ years, before that it was riverside forest and home to various tribes being shoved westward). Where did all that lovely nutrient-loaded soil run off to, and why was it replaced with clay, gravel, broken glass and cigarette butts?

Rather than have the garden in the front yard, and risk feeding random thieving passersby instead of us, I'll just have to amend the ever-loving fuck out of it and count my blessings that I have access to dirt and that some of it was moved to build a house for my family. But, DAMN IT, what might have been...

In other news, drug commmericals are starting to sound like car commercials. The fast-talking part is ALWAYS where they tell you it's not such a great deal after all the hyping they just did. They're using doctor's office scenarios now to make it sound better, but if my doctor ever spoke to me that way, I'd laugh and walk out.

OMG I just took a positive pregnancy test and I work in Oncology. I'm so fucked! It's gonna be a flipper baby!

Also, Nick is leaving me and we're fighting over who has to keep the kids.

Also, I'm very disappointed because no one did an April Fool's prank at the pharmacy. Slackers.

Last night, I worked a four hour shift because two student techs were sick with fevers. Because of that, I got this afternoon off. The sun is shining AND it's warm outside! I'm off to enjoy the rest of my day.

I smell like Ambrosia again. I'm in heaven, and it cost five bucks and some searching on the interwebs.

I'm buying a set of encyclopedias for the boys. Several times a week, I find myself wanting to say, "Go look it up" when the boys ask a question I don't know the answer to, and our reference section at home is good, but not THAT good. I've been meaning to pick up a set for quite some time, just never got around to it, until now. Yay, knowledge.

Nick and I built our own compost bin from rebar and chicken wire, this morning. We finally had to buy a sledge hammer (to pound the rebar into the ground), something you really don't find yourself needing until you live in a house. Next week, we're tilling the garden. We'll be borrowing a tiller from Tenants to Homeowners, they have a great system set up so all of us lease-holders can borrow common gardening and home improvement tools without having to buy them. Those things get pricy fast. If I can manage to not kill the seedlings in my makeshift greenhouse in the basement, they'll be planted by this time next week. Other outdoor summer projects include: pouring the concrete pad for a shed, planting more trees, and perhaps puttting up some sort of fence to keep out dogs. Frankly, I'm tired of people walking their dogs past the house and letting them s%$& all over the grass. And it's not on the edge of the lawn, either, sometimes it's right under the living-room window. That's just plain rude and disrespectful. I can either put up a fence, follow the dog walkers home and have Dominic crap in THEIR yard, or sit outside with a BB gun 24/7. Whatever.

My friend Rhonda lent me Duma Key, as I'd lent her Lisey's Story a while back. So far, so Stephen King. Tony has a friend over for the night, and I made an enchilada casserole since his friend is allergic to gluten, soy and dairy. I'm just chilling with my book, and glad that Tony and Dominic aren't relying on me to entertain them. I've been pushing them to invite their friends over here more often. I like it when the house is full of people.

I went through a bunch of exercises I'd clipped from magazines and finally tried them out. They sucked immensely. I will stick to side kicks and push-ups, thank you. At least I got them cleared off my desk. I did a lot of cleaning out over the weekend, ended up taking two bags of clothes and sheets to Penn House.

I'm in a letter-writing mood. I owe so many people real updates, not just posts in LJ. I owe pictures of the boys, big time. I went through some old Christmas and birthday cards and realized how unwittingly cruel I've been to Dominic's great-grandma. She asked for recent pics in a Christmas card, and I realized that card is about three years old. I haven't sent pics in that long, just email updates. I don't even know if she still checks her email because I stopped getting reponses a while back, longer than I care to think about. I can't do to my kids' grandparents what my mom did to mine. I signed Tony and Dominic up for some studio portraits tonight. Their school pics have been absolute suck and a waste of money, so I haven't bought any since 2004. What do I care about crappy school pics? After all, I see the boys every day. But I haven't been thinking about the people who don't have that opportunity. That's pretty selfish of me.

1. I've had the theme from Electric Company stuck in my head for the past two days. I'm in Oncology this week, where there's no radio in the IV room. So it's pretty much just me with my thoughts...and the theme song from Electric Company.

2. Dominic tried an electric guitar for the first time, tonight, thanks to secret_malady . It brought to mind the saying "The first hit is always free". Dominic is hooked. He doesn't know what lust is yet, but he has it in spades for an electric guitar. 

3. Newman Os have officially out-Oreoed the Oreo cookie, in my opinion. They are what the Oreo wishes it could be.

4. I've been rehearsing bully-related scenarios with Tony, due to a certain kid at school picking on him by accusing him of masturbating and of being gay. So last night, I found myself coaching Tony on how to give withering looks, followed by "If you say so..." and "Who doesn't masturbate?" Of course, my first impulse, and Nick's when I told him, was to have Tony say something along the lines of, "You wish, sailor!" in his most fey voice. We really should not be allowed to parent.

5. Since it's free, I'm running the half-marathon in April. I've been running up and down the four story staircase at work, and running up to campus in the mornings, to get myself re-conditioned for hills. The echo and lung studies were normal, so I guess I'm just really de-conditioned when it comes to running uphill.

6. I watched Fast Food Nation with the boys on Saturday, and there are a couple of scenes where people are smoking pot and a few sex scenes. Since the sex scenes were a little crass, I had the boys cover their eyes. When the pot smoking scene came on, Dominic turned to me, all bug-eyed, and said, "But my teacher says smoking pot is bad! It will kill you, right?" I really didn't know what to say. I thought for a minute, and finally told Dominic that pot is not like heroin or meth or cocaine, but that it is not good for growing bodies and it is still illegal and can land you in jail or get you fired. He seemed okay with that, but I could see some mental reshuffling going on in his head. One of those Oh No! Differing Opinions From Beloved Authority Figures! moments. Poor kid. 

 This week zoomed right past me. My friend Stueve (the other Greg) called from Austin, to let me know how much fun he was having at SXSW, and to let me know he ran into Nick. I'm amazed he got the time off from the office (he's a family practice doctor in the middle of flu season), but I'm glad he made it down there. I really need to get down to Austin sometime. I'm sick with jealousy, just a little. I asked him to take pics, as Nick is sans camera. 

I made Tony clean the entire house, since he had no school today and also to make up for some disappointing behavior on Wednesday. He had to assemble the cd cases for my music project, too, all 200 of them. I caught Dominic drinking my carrot juice, so now he gets to do chores tomorrow. I snapped and poured the rest of it down the sink. I had already shared some of it with him, but I'd told him to ask me for any more of it, because it's one of the few things I buy for myself as a treat. I was furious that, even given a chance to ask directly for some, he went behind my back and stole it. I must have scared him, because he went straight to his room and wrote out an apology. He's still my bitch tomorrow. I will not accept any kind of fuckery regarding my carrot juice. 

Bills are paid, checkbook is balanced, and the boys are fed. The weekend can officially begin.

 I had a good day at work. I was on top of my game, and I was able to shake off some negativity coming from another tech. I haven't been able to do that so well, lately. I've been prone to crying when frustrated or when talking about problems at work. I wish I could turn off the waterworks, I really do. I am not a people person. I dread dealing with other people, I dread conflict, and I just want to be left alone to do my job. This is never going to happen, so I need to learn some coping mechanisms so I can stop leaking tears when my director starts talking about my performance at work, or my dealings with co-workers. And I, Tearsy McCryface, can NEVER fucking cry on command. I want powers I can use, dammit.

What I did differently today, before work: I drank more water, gave myself more time to get ready, made my lunch, and did a hard-and-fast three mile run. Other possible contributing factors: the sun was out, it's March, and the wind was coming in from the SW at 5 mph.

In other, fantastic news, Nick brought home mint chocolate cookies from the bakery.

In health-related news, I had an echo done Wednesday, to rule out reasons why I can't climb stairs without becoming short of breath and feeling faint. It's crazy...I can run flat no problem, I can't climb stairs to save my own life. This is not good, as I have to run up and down stairs every day at work. It's like standing up too fast, I actually start to black out and have to sit down before I fall down. It's not like an asthma attack or anything. I had an EKG done that was normal, and my resting O2 is 100. I'd like to see what the hell happens to my sats when I'm huffing up those stairs because then it really feels like my body has forgotten how to get the blood and O2 where it needs to go.

I just clicked on a studio portrait of a Mille Lac Ojibwe family from 1912, and I was startled to recognize features from my mom's side of the family. The mom in the pic looks just like my Aunt Bub (she hates the name Mildred) and has that odd round-squished Lyon nose (that I was so glad to not inherit). Or we have her nose. Either way, that was mildly disconcerting.  Thanks to Nuala for the link that led me to this. I love old pictures and beading stuff.

http://www.nebraskahistory.org/images/sites/mnh/bandolier_bags/5-P001.jpg

I'm trying goat's milk ice cream for the first time, and it is full of WIN. It's nearly $8 a pint, and must thus remain an infrequent indulgence, but I still encourage you to try it. Lactose intolerance be damned (goat's milk has very low lactose content, anyway).



 

I bought trees! I nailed two of my three Big Winter Projects. I did not, in fact, flyer the stairwell. But I did go through all of my recipes, categorize all of my cds, and plan out the landscaping and garden for this spring. Go on with my bad self, I will.

Work is meh...I've been told my speediness and focus is going downhill, like the resulting performance anxiety is going to IMPROVE MATTERS...but I can't be Tech II yet. And I've been under this fucking MAGNIFYING GLASS ever since I asked about it, months back--and that's when things started to go south. I'm like, fuck it, I don't want the massive headache and constant dread of FAIL...for $0.60 more an hour...honestly, what the fuck is that all about? Ugh, forget it.

The boys are doing well. Tony is now wearing a size 9 shoe. As in, two sizes behind Nick. As in, only through the miracle (HAH!) of procreation can you produce something that will one day tower over you. And he also has friends who recognize him in public. This thrills me to no end. Tony is finally catching up in social situations. I really thought his teen years were going to be a nightmare.

Dominic just asked me, "What's the whole point of Easter, anyway?"

"Candy", I replied, still typing. Good enough for him, as he just wandered off again. I have one-word parenting down to a SCIENCE, people.

I rented seasons 3,4, and 5 of Six Feet Under. Nick is volunteering at Bowl For Kids Sake. I am free to pursue my drooling crushes on Nate Fisher, David Fisher and his hot boyfriend Keith.

And...scene.

Last Wednesday, I got really sick. It was awful. I had to leave work. All I could manage was a half-recline on the couch while I whimpered to the cats about the sweet, sweet release of death. I wanted to cease being, if only to stop feeling such pain in my innards. I got better after two days. I can now fit into my 'skinny' jeans.

In unrelated news, Hostess has introduced banana-flavored Twinkies. I saw them at Hy-Vee, and I'm sure my eyes got just as big as when I spied gingerbread Pop-Tarts for the first time. I squealed, I bought, I tasted. I am sad to report that they are NOT the heavenly ambrosia I'd always imagined would result from such a pairing. I ate three (just to make TOTALLY SURE I didn't like them) and gave the rest to Tony and Dominic, to take in their school lunches. Five minutes later, they turned in a 2-page essay on why I should be nominated Mother of the Year.

At lunch, this co-worker was going on and on about how bad having an abortion makes women feel, and how it makes every one of them them depressed and suicidal. And then someone else chimed in with their opinion of women who are pro-choice. I wanted to say something in defense of women who are pro-choice, or women who simply felt a sense of relief after terminating an unwanted pregnancy, but I didn't feel like starting an argument. It was implied that women who don't feel wracked with guilt over having an abortion are heartless freaks. I wondered aloud if post-birth counseling was offered for pregnant women who were guilt-tripped into keeping the kid, or if pro-lifers consider their job finished at birth. Oh no, I was assured, having a kid is its own reward. No one would EVER regret carrying a pregnancy to term. Huh. Really?

Well, then, explain all these unwanted kids in group homes and state custody who make it safely through fetushood only to be given up, discarded, or abused after being born. Why aren't pro-lifers taking these kids into their homes? As much as these people love kids, shouldn't they have taken in most of these pregnancy-success stories by now?

Any time I've asked that in a forum, I've heard nothing but crickets. It's very nearly the best thread-killer ever. I didn't ask it this time, because I didn't want to bring the whole fucking room down with such a depressing thought. You guys get it, instead.

Happy Birthday, Sammy!! I'm thinking of you today.