All the Undone

A beautiful post written by my friend Shira.

I've been thinking about projects left undone lately.  Not that this is exactly what Shira is writing about, but I think writing projects can be come undone projects if not tended to, which is what she is writing about.

But I've been thinking about projects generally.

There is that novel I started a long time ago.  It was wacky and all wrong and needed lots of work--I'm not a fiction writer after all--but sometimes I think about it.

There is the old blog at blog.com that is begging to be copied over into a blogger platform so that I can have it bound into a book before all that writing and those memories just disappear.  I would gladly pay someone to do this for me, but who?  When?  How?  I can't even figure out how to make this person appear, and it makes me tired thinking about it.

There is the incredibly complicated peacock embroidery.

I'm tempted to frame it as is, because my God, when am I ever going to finish that?

There's all the clothes and jewelry I'd like to make and sell.  There is volunteering for fine organizations and political canvassing.

There is the Science Communication faculty workshop I was going to create, the National Science Foundation career award I never applied for, the curriculum for the kids' school on energy and environment, the garden, the 50 recipes I was going to learn this year (I did come close), the plane tickets to fly my sister out over spring break, the deck that needs building, the bathroom that needs remodeling, the phone calls to make and the 60 holiday cards I still haven't sent out.

There is the grading and the committee work and the quality time with my husband, children, friends, and family afar.

Hmmm.  I've been thinking a lot lately about why I get so sick all the time.  I am sick a lot, yeah?  This time there was the strep, followed by the typical one-two punch of the sinus infection and bronchitis.  I'd like to say I might be getting better but often I get a stomach flu after things like this, and though I don't want to bring it into being simply by saying it, I wouldn't be totally surprised, either.  Really, really exhausted and sad, but not surprised.

"Maybe you'll just get to rest," a friend says.  "You do everything right," says another.  I wonder if it's not enough protein or too much sugar or I'm not handling stress as well as I think I am.  Maybe it's that trailer we lived in when I was five that off-gassed formaldehyde and asbestos from the walls; maybe it's genetics.  Maybe I don't clean the house well enough or wash my hands like I should.

I don't know.  Are these things related?  The drive to finish things and my getting sick?  Can you live a full life, even an ambitious one, and also be healthy?

Or is it nothing I've done at all?  Maybe my kids just bring home a lot of germs.  Maybe it's just dumb luck.

I'm surprised that I feel a little ashamed at being sick yet again.  The need to find an explanation for it, too, is strong.  Mostly, probably, I'm just tired, and the chinks in our armor show most when one or all of us is ill.

Can you see the sun shining through those chinks?  Is my armor all aglow?

McCall in Winter, and Us in Winter

My cousin Heidi took this from my grandmother's place.  The lake is fairly well frozen over, and you can't see the mountains for the fog.  That place is magic.

And here's Addie, doing some hand-sewing on a little felt star.

I take pieces of felt and let the kids draw shapes on them, then we cut out two layers of their shapes, and I draw little dots around the perimeter. I safety pin the two layers together.  Addie then sews in and out, following the dots.

Everybody except Addie felt a little shabby yesterday.  Nolie and I have developed some sort of cold/sinus action, which has been really great after having strep throat last week.  I think one of my goals this year should be figuring out how to bolster my immune system some, don't you think?

Anyway, we canceled our plans to go skiing and stayed in crafting and cleaning house and watching football.  Which ended up being quite nice anyway, and is sort of the way of our family in these cold months.  Other than venturing out to ski here and there, we pretty much hunker down, make, and be.

Just a little less being sick would also be lovely.

November Nasal News

It's November, which according to my calendar, means it's time to bore you with all of our many viruses and bacterial infections and bodily functions.

But I'm not going to do that, because, like I said:  boring.

If I was going to bore you with all that, it would go something like

blahblahbronchitisblahblahsinusinfectionblahblahstomachflublahblahpertussisscareblahblahmigraineblahblahpinkeyeBLAH.

But I'm not.

Instead, I'll bore you with the fact that, in between coughing fits, I've been doing some felting:

This a felted bangle.  Super quit to knit up, then I felted by hand and added the seed and bugle beads.  Thank you One More Skein for inspiration.

In between dry heaves, I knitted this little number:

Chunky wool, rescued from the thrift store, a made-up pattern, shoved some buttons through stitches.  Crocheted a shell pattern around the edges Then lined with jersey so not too scratchy.  These are all over Etsy and I wanted one.  Cozy!

Other than that, not much is new.  My oldest is still petulant, my youngest wakes at 3am every night like clockwork, my dog and husband snore in an alternating symphony of joyous exhalation, and we bought an entire box of frozen snickerdoodle batter for a school fundraiser.  Life is plentiful and good, in other words.

Achoo.

Suck-O-Rama

I'm sorry to give you another pitiful post so close on the heels of that other pitiful post. But it's not my fault. I can't help it.

You see, the most hideous thing happened in our house last night. Which was, Eric and I both puking all night long and then having to look at each other in the morning and decide who was sicker and would take the kids to camp.

Now, this tanden sickness business makes me filled with hatred and dread. I think there is nothing worse in the category of non-emergency parenting dilemmas. Parenting when sick makes me meaner than swamp crotch.

I just made that up--that swamp crotch thing. Apparently I'm trying out some interesting writerly voice right now. Forgive me. I'm not myself.

My point is that there is nothing that makes me hate my life, my children, and my husband more than having to be a grown up when I'm sick. Because what is the USE of getting sick if you can't be a big, fat pitiful baby over it? If you can't loll in bed and watch tv and drink gatorade and eat saltines? What is the USE?

We ended up splitting the rides, both of us probably breaking a few laws getting each child to her respective camp for the day and then hauling ass back home to crawl back into bed. But we did it because that option was soooo much better than keeping them home and trying to entertain and parent them when we're rowlfing it up, you know?

I should be grateful the kids weren't sick too. I should be grateful that, for once in our marriage, Eric is actually sicker than I am.

That didn't sound right. It's just that you know me and the puking. Nine times out of ten I get dehydrated and end up in the stupid hospital.

I should be grateful I didn't blow out at the Y. I should be grateful we can afford camp and that I could lay on the couch and watch The Big Chill on TNT. And I should be grateful that I feel better now and that it wasn't something more serious.

But really, I don't feel grateful at all. I'm just not there yet. I don't have that particular bit of wisdom in my grasp. I feel like I deserve a freaking spa weekend in the mountains. I feel sad that we couldn't get it together enough to call someone for help. I'm feeling tired and overwhelmed and resentful.

And that's just what parenthood looks like today.

Suck.

Spring Surprises

I woke up this morning to two inches of snow outside and a gnarly, oogy, snotty spring cold.

Both of them can suck it.

Sid the Misinformed Kid

Also, I should mention that the episode of the PBS show Sid the Science Kid that we're watching this morning is based on the premise that Sid's mom is sick with a cold, and Sid doesn't want to get it, so he learns all about germs and handwashing to avoid getting a cold.

With all respect, what a crock of dog-doo. Because everyone knows you catch things from your kids and then give the sickness back to them, in a lovely back and forth, and also kids know when you're sick and do everything they can to be in your face catching whatever illness you have and giving you strange new germs in return.

PBS, if you need a reality consultant, let me know.

Sick Mama: Day 2

My poor girls. I was sick for a good chunk of November (get over it, already, I can hear you saying) and now am sick again (new immune system, anyone?). My girls and I should be baking and making a family tree and going to see The Princess and the Frog. Tonight was supposed to be a mellow celebration with friends. But instead, it will be another day of hanging out in bed and watching too much t.v. with a grumpy, hacking mama.

And, while coughing up throat plugs this morning, I was thinking about that post I wrote yesterday. I think it was really about feeling sick and not wanting to admit it, and not about being "off my game." That's a typical move, isn't it? Feeling cruddy and extrapolating to some larger malaise that somehow seems to taint everything in my life.

But hanging out in bed might give me some time to write here about how amazing and adorable my kids are, to review that pesky conference proposal I've been procrastinating on, and to post some pictures of my latest knitting project (in which rows have been pulled out rather than ignored when stitches have been dropped, qualifying it as my first "real" knitting project). So, that's where I am today, and that's probably okay.

Coming soon. Happy New Year's, everyone.