So I couldn't sleep last night because my back has been acting up. (Do I sound like a 50 year old drama queen or what?) From my mother, I inherited a right leg that is slightly shorter than the left, and as a result a wacked out right hip and lower back. Come to think of it, I also inherited my chin whiskers, "voluptuous" figure (It's the pioneer genes--we're always saving up for a hard winter.), tendency toward co-dependency, and thin hair. Thanks Mom.
Usually when I can's sleep, I finagle half a Zanex from Erik. Unfortunately, he was sleeping soundly, and I didn't want to wake him up. After an unsuccessful prowl around his pants pockets and dresser, I started getting a little desperate. You know the feeling. Take a look at the clock. See that it's 1:30. Say to yourself, "Well, I can still get 5 hours in." Look again. See that it's now 2:00. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Around 2:30ish, I began scouting the medicine cabinet for sleep aids. No Niquil. No Tylenol pm. No Benedryl. A Ha! A bottle of prescription cough medicine. Says right here--may cause drowsiness. Sounds good to me. So--I took a big swig. Too big apparently, because instead of sleeping, I ended up with the creepy crawlies. That kind of sped-up itchy scalp crawling feeling that is pretty much the opposite of sleep. Fuck. It looks like much coffee and yawning are in my future.
I took my dad out on a date for Father's Day (late--I know) last week. We had dinner, went to a movie, had a talk. It seems like in all the people I truly love, there is one character trait that I both love and hate in them. In my mom, it is her intense ability to care. This is a blessing and a curse. She knows my back is acting up and has been calling--taking Sophie without me having to ask--bringing me Alive. So sweet. On the other hand, she is very easy to hurt--particularly when it comes to the Mormon church and the fact that I am not a part of it any more. She feels completely responsible, and is sure that I won't be with her in the afterlife. It honestly pains her everyday. So we've grown this vicious cycle of her being hurt and me being hurt about her hurt, and her being hurt about my hurt about her hurt. Exhausting.
Oh--I was talking about my dad. Sorry. What I love and hate (hate is strong--maybe don't understand would be better) about him, is that he takes absolutely no responsibility for other people's choices or feelings. Where as with my mom, any discussion about the church turns into an emotional shit-sandwich, with my dad--it's no big deal. Example: One day we drove by a Mormon church that was being built (not hard here in Southern Utah). He said to me, "You should go back to church." I said, "No I shouldn't." He said, "Why not?" I said, "Because I don't believe in it." He said, "Well, that's the only good reason." End of discussion. Honestly, that was one of the most emotionally releasing talks I've ever had.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
As there is no Sophie reference in the above post--I'll take this chance to say that my daughter is absolutely beautiful. Really. Model beautiful. Movie star beautiful. I feel like a shallow shit for saying this, but I love to dress her in something cute (not every day--often she looks like a dirty street urchin), do her hair, and take her out and listen to people say, "Isn't that a beautiful little girl!"
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
How about the pile of peed on training pants waiting for me to wash them?
6 comments:
I hate those nights where all you can do is helplessly watch the clock.
sometimes having men of little words around you is a blessing. get it? blessing? church?
having come from parents who had really been involved in the catholic church, and then having been heartbroken that the church would turn their back on them for doing what they knew was right and getting divorced, and then struggling with their role in the church afterwards, I've always had a detached viewpoint towards religion. I can't, though, fathom what it's like to grow up mormon, or have someone so entwined with the church that she'd be sad about not being able to spend the afterlife with me. that blows my mind.
I'm glad you had that talk with your dad, though. you have to do what you have to do. I firmly believe that's why god gave us all brains.
Just happened upon your blog. This post is all too familiar to me...
Just lastnight I was a clock-watcher myself. Feel crappy today, as a result. I'm hoping you have since recovered.
I also have issues with church right now. Was raised catholic, but always told that I could be whoever and whatever I wanted to be...I should just do what was right for me. My boyfriend of 1 1/2 years is Christian and believes that I should absolutely go to church every week and believe in all that he believes in. He doesn't mention it anymore, but it was an "issue" for a while there. He has learned that, just as my mother felt, I too feel that I should choose whatever faith I want to! I have given his faith consideration and even visited on 3-4 occassions, but I don't necessarily feel that it's for me! That's it, end of story. I don't know your situation, but I do hope that you too stick up for yourself and just do what is right for you!!
And don't we all have the most beautiful children in the world? LOL I haven't seen a picture of yours yet, but I'm sure she is truly gorgeous!!!
Have a great day!
I was raised by a mother who doesn't believe in God and a father who thinks that our life on earth is hell and it can only get better from here. And as you can imagine neither of them took me to church.
There was a very wierd, very brief period in my sophmore year in college where I tried to be a born again christian to alleviate depression brought on by a horrible roommate, weight gain, and the loneliness of Pittsburgh. While trying to convince myself I was a true believer I worried about all the people that I loved and how if they didn't find Jesus that they would burn in hell. It's a horrible thing to think about - especially if you're convinced you have the key to saving them and all you have to do is communicate it. Luckily the religion didn't take because I realized it was a pretty pitiful crutch on my part so I just studied abroad instead - which fixed the situational depression.
My own theory on God is that it's incredibly egotistical of humans to believe that we could even fathom the true nature of the higher powers at work. So while it can be comforting to have a hope/a theory and live your life accordingly, it's wrong to tell someone else how to live and what to believe in. That's just my personal thang.
Holy crap. I totally have uneven legs, too, except it's my left that's slightly shorter than my right, as evidenced by the bottoms of the left legs of all of my jeans being frayed, while the right ones look brand spankin' new. No back pain yet, but my right hip does make a crazy popping noise when I run or have sex. Is it okay to type "have sex" on a blog about your daughter?
As for religion... I've heard of it.
Imagine how weird it was for me to have very UN-active mormon parents who drank, and smoked to having them suddenly find their youthful religion a few years ago and getting married in the temple,for crying out loud. At least your folks are consistent, no surprises.
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