Friday, March 11, 2005
So many things to blog about, but so very little time. DD has been sick this week, with whatever knocked me on my ass last week, of course. I suppose DS will be down with it next week, so I might as well prepare now. I should be going in to work since I just got back from dropping them off with their dad, but I want to sit on my ass for a while.
Am I lazy? I think I'm lazy. I must be, because every waking moment that I cannot spend sitting on my ample ass makes me want that much more to do nothing but sit and do absolutely nothing. No work, no fetching, no cleaning, no ass-wiping, nothing. And naturally, my life is so freaking packed with responsibilities and last-minute chores that time to sit on my ass is so rare I'd be better off hoping for it to rain monkies. And it never fails that when I do settle down in front of the computer, I'm not here more than 45 seconds before the phone is ringing or a kid's calling my name, or the clock is flashing that "WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE YOU SHOULD BE SOMEWHERE ELSE!" time... "Mooooom! Can you change the channel? Moooooom, can you push my chair in? Moooom can you cut my chicken fingers?" Bah.
I've been feeling very analytical lately about the State of Things. Not for any particular reason (though that will be hard to believe later)... I suppose listening to other people talk about their troubles makes me contemplate my own. I've decided that I am happy. I just don't know why I don't FEEL happy. Years ago, when I was pregnant with DD, I was speaking cautiously about my pregnancy, and a friend of mine said, "Sassy, why can't you just be HAPPY?" I didn't know then, and I don't know now. But she was right, and it's been that way for a very long time. It could be raining Happy Juice, and I'd be holding my breath, sure that something bad is just around the corner that's going to take it all away. I've lived my whole life like that. I can occassionally just enjoy a moment, and I've been happy or content with the things and relationships I had in my life, but I couldn't allow myself to just feel it. Now bad stuff I can wallow in, no problem. I enjoy wallowing in it, even, because I know it becomes so damned melodramatic that I quickly recognize the silliness of it all and I'm able to pick myself up and move on. But happy I can't wallow in. Is it because I don't think I deserve to be happy? Am I afraid I'll discover it's not real? Will losing it be worse than never having it? I can't figure it out. But when good things happen to me, people all around me can be patting me on the back and chucking me on the arm, and all I can do is keep my nose down and keep working because I know it won't last. Freud might blame my parents--my dad was self-employed and always very busy, and we were always short on money. My folks were quick to make big promises about presents and vacations and plans for the future, but something always came up to take them away. And I guess I expect that's the way life works. But it seems silly now to be cautious about being happy just because Dad couldn't take me to Disney World, right?
Am I lazy? I think I'm lazy. I must be, because every waking moment that I cannot spend sitting on my ample ass makes me want that much more to do nothing but sit and do absolutely nothing. No work, no fetching, no cleaning, no ass-wiping, nothing. And naturally, my life is so freaking packed with responsibilities and last-minute chores that time to sit on my ass is so rare I'd be better off hoping for it to rain monkies. And it never fails that when I do settle down in front of the computer, I'm not here more than 45 seconds before the phone is ringing or a kid's calling my name, or the clock is flashing that "WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE YOU SHOULD BE SOMEWHERE ELSE!" time... "Mooooom! Can you change the channel? Moooooom, can you push my chair in? Moooom can you cut my chicken fingers?" Bah.
I've been feeling very analytical lately about the State of Things. Not for any particular reason (though that will be hard to believe later)... I suppose listening to other people talk about their troubles makes me contemplate my own. I've decided that I am happy. I just don't know why I don't FEEL happy. Years ago, when I was pregnant with DD, I was speaking cautiously about my pregnancy, and a friend of mine said, "Sassy, why can't you just be HAPPY?" I didn't know then, and I don't know now. But she was right, and it's been that way for a very long time. It could be raining Happy Juice, and I'd be holding my breath, sure that something bad is just around the corner that's going to take it all away. I've lived my whole life like that. I can occassionally just enjoy a moment, and I've been happy or content with the things and relationships I had in my life, but I couldn't allow myself to just feel it. Now bad stuff I can wallow in, no problem. I enjoy wallowing in it, even, because I know it becomes so damned melodramatic that I quickly recognize the silliness of it all and I'm able to pick myself up and move on. But happy I can't wallow in. Is it because I don't think I deserve to be happy? Am I afraid I'll discover it's not real? Will losing it be worse than never having it? I can't figure it out. But when good things happen to me, people all around me can be patting me on the back and chucking me on the arm, and all I can do is keep my nose down and keep working because I know it won't last. Freud might blame my parents--my dad was self-employed and always very busy, and we were always short on money. My folks were quick to make big promises about presents and vacations and plans for the future, but something always came up to take them away. And I guess I expect that's the way life works. But it seems silly now to be cautious about being happy just because Dad couldn't take me to Disney World, right?
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