No Santa

Our almost-five-year-old still proclaims that Santa is not allowed in our house!  We saw him at a plant nursery when we were looking at Christmas trees this year.  He was at least fifty meters away, but she went into an immediate panic attack, and we had to slink around the nursery to escape as soon as possible.  Her school Christmas party was Friday afternoon and when I got the warning that he was in the class next door, she instinctively knew that it was time to get out and get out fast. 

She met him for the first time when she was almost two at my work and had a very unsure look on her face.  Her grandmother and great-grandmother and I were all there, and I know the Santa.  The next time she met him was that same year, but with her cousins, aunt, uncle, dad, and I.  If nothing else, she was distracted.  When she was three, we took her to Lakeside Mall where there was a nicely dressed Santa and a train to ride.  Everything was kosher until we opened the gate to go stand by him for the picture.  She waived from afar, but that was the end of that and she would only ride the train around. 

Apparently, this is unusual in a child her age, although, I'm not offended or worried.  I only know what I know with her.  She has said it's his beard, but when her dad and I start naming our friends who have beards that she's totally comfortable with, that excuse fades.  The next excuse is that Santa is so big he scares her.  That could be at least partly true because when we tried to go see Elmo and Chase at a local toy store a few weeks ago, she had another panic attack.  When we escaped into another store in the shopping center, she explained that Elmo was much bigger than she expected.  She was assuming that he would be the same size that he is on Sesame Street. 

I love to costume and even have gotten her into doing it.  We never wear masks, but I have quite a collection of wigs.  She's even asked for an Elsa wig for Christmas this year, although, when she was younger, she didn't like when I put a wig on.  I think it was scary to her then since she was still trying to identify people and surroundings.  Maybe that's some of it, too.  Santa is a complete stranger and sitting on his lap to tell him something very special to you, and then inviting him into your house is a huge concept for a little person to fathom.  Even typing it out and reading it makes the whole idea sound super creepy to me, a forty-year-old woman. 

One of her classmates does not believe in Santa, so I asked her if that's what she wanted to do at our house.  She has always said and continues to say that he'll be ok when she's older.  Personally, I'm happy to skip the whole lying to her about it for years and just make her swear to not spoil it for her friends.  Maybe when she's another year older we can try that out, but right now she is the worst secret keeper and hide-and-seek player I've ever encountered.  Do not ask if she's excited to see what Santa brings her because she will most emphatically tell you that she is not!

Hell on Earth

Eleven years ago, I became a homeowner.  It has been nothing short of a bad investment.  Property value has declined, the neighbors have never been great and in some ways are getting worse.  I've gotten stuck running the HOA more than once and currently, while I'm an officer, I have my husband handle all of it because I'm so over it. 

In past posts, I have complained a bit about living here, but after yesterday afternoon we have come to realize that I have reached the bottom of the pit of despair.  The only kid who is our daughter's age that lives around here throws rocks at people's windshields, calls adults names, and doesn't listen or have any respect for anyone - much like his father.  Our daughter has lost interest in playing with him, but he doesn't get the hint.  My husband and I have both told his parents about issues we have had with him, but it makes no difference.  truthfully, I feel bad for the mother.  She is in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship with his father and likely doesn't see a way out so she stays. 

Additionally, the father is "Sanford and Son" with three boats that he never uses, a broken dirt bike, a broken motorcycle, a broken golf cart, and a giant tool shed and a tree house that he built with no permits.  He owes the HOA thousands of dollars from not paying over the last several years, and has had a lean place on his property.  Again, it makes no difference.  That's all on one end of the building. 

Our immediate next door neighbors supposedly have maggots and other unsavory inhabitants in their unit because, until last weekend, they hadn't taken their trash out in quite some time.  We are assuming that their parents must be in town for Thanksgiving since their front porch is the cleanest I have seen it in years.  We had a roof rat in our place after Easter that supposedly came to visit from their place.  The two brothers that live there are at least nice enough people.  The third brother that used to live there is the one who used to keep me up at night with loud music and parties, one of which my car got keyed at by a guest when I called the cops.  My whole car had to get repainted because across my hood, the guy wrote "KUNT" and drew a line around the entire car body. 

My mental well-being has been permanently damaged by all of the drama here and I truly hate that we are stuck here for our child's first several years of life.  The plan is to sell my husband's place near Lafayette within the next few months and then work on getting out of my place which is where we live. Apparently, people who live near us think I'm a "crazy lady" as a teenager called me yesterday, but I don't care.  Maybe that will make them all leave us alone until we can get out of this hell. 

Death

The first time I had to deal with death was when I was either in kindergarten or first grade when the family dog had to get put down.  During the day, he had been hit by a car and injured so badly that that was the most humane option.  He was my parents first child.  My dad met me on the front lawn after school and told me Soapy was gone.  That was my first heartbreak.

When I was in elementary school, my maternal grandmother passed away.  It was a very hard time for my mom and I feel like the grieving I did was more for her, or that's how I remember it now.  Great grandparents, other grandparents, and a great aunt died before I was in high school.  My maternal grandfather passed away in 2009.  He lived with us after Katrina and my mom was his main caretaker for years until he passed.  That was a tough one to go through, also.  The next big heartbreaks I had were when the family dogs, Rusty and Dash, were put down within a few years of each other because of age and health issues.

Just last week, my husband's grandfather passed away.  He was 96 years old.  Tomorrow is actually his 97 birthday.  By the time I met my husband, Paw-paw was already fairly deep into dementia.  He never knew my name and I'm not really sure that he ever understood that I was his grandson's wife.  I never knew him like all of his family did, and that's okay.  In a way, that made it much easier for me to comfort my husband when his heart broke.  Although I cried several times, it was because I know what he's going through, and it reminds of me going through the similar situation with my grandfather.

Our daughter is around the same age I was when I dealt with losing Soapy.  She doesn't quite understand what death means and she has a lot of questions.  Explaining it is one of those abstract concepts that we have to be really careful about what we say so we don't cause more confusion.  There was a helpful article on a parenting site that warned about leaning too far into the heaven explanation because you don't want to make your child think that they will only be happy when they die and go to heaven.  That's what we were kind of brought up thinking, though, so that leaves us really lost at what to say about it.

Have you had to explain a death in the family - pet or human - to the five and under crowd?  Do you have any advice or tips?  Our girl sort of gets it, but still doesn't really get it.  My main concern right now is that her not getting it gets her dad upset because it makes him continuously think about the loss.

Friends

The last few days we have been learning lessons about friends. The lessons aren't planned, but happening naturally and nonetheless.

The gender differences are showing up earlier than I thought they would, but I really think that's what the basis is for these "issues".  Boys want to play with boys a lot of the time because they're like-minded and can be dirty and rough.  Just to clarify, my girl is pretty girly but she's also got a big attitude and doesn't mind getting messy. 

Anyway, one scenario presented itself yesterday when she was with a set of brothers. The older they get, the more they want to play ball and run with other boys while she wants to climb, slide, and swing.  There was still some overlap play, but she's only interested in playing football for so long and the boys weren't really interested in swinging. 

The second instance happened today when we got home from school and work.  She thought plans were set in stone to meet up with another boy to decorate pumpkins.  Apparently, the comment made about plans was said just to be sweet which ended up hurting feelings when there was no follow through.  Nothing really to be mad about as a parent, but I also understand her sensitivity to the situation. 

Trying to explain how things work, like different family dynamics and everyone not wanting to play the same game, is not easy. Even choosing words that a four year old can understand to explain the most basic concept involved was tough.  I don't know that she really understands, but art projects and the Barbie show on Netflix are soothing enough. 

The other lesson involves a furry friend that doesn't belong to us.  She had a play date with a cat and has been asking to go back over ever since then.  The challenge there is not only explaining that we can't just stay over at this friend's house, but that the cat doesn't always want to have a human companion - specifically toddler - trying to do tricks with him. 

There's been lots of crying and pouting with all of this, and my heart does ache for her to an extent; however, I also know she's got to start learning these tough lessons and they will only help her in the long run. 

Number Four

This is the year of four.  We just celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary, our daughter turned four at the beginning of the year, I'm going to turn 40 in a few weeks and my husband will turn 40 in the fall.  The prophet, Google, says the number 4 means good things like stability and solid direction.  Unfortunately, that is the exact opposite of what I've been experiencing lately.

I had a sinus infection for over a month and took lots of steroids and antibiotics.  I'm finally well, but my allergies are going insane and that might be because we have a rodent issue at home.  It/they found Easter candy and had a field day eating that and all of our produce. This morning was the first in two weeks we haven't found poop anywhere.  Maybe it's because we got a big new trap, or maybe it's the essential oil spray I shot everywhere I could think of yesterday afternoon.  The office is moving so we're all stressed about packing everything before the annual convention we're attending that starts this weekend because when we get back, there's only two days left to finish packing.  And if that wasn't enough to deal with, this morning my daughter and I were in a car accident on the way to school.  It was a hit and run which caused a domino effect across the highway involving five vehicles. Thankfully, the person who started it all was caught later this afternoon.

So where's this sense of balance and stability that's supposed to be happening?  I've tried praying, yelling, screaming, posting on Facebook, venting to my husband and friends, but nothing's getting better.  I usually feel better after I talk, but the universe is just not letting up. Another thing that's always in the back of my mind (and my husband's) is how desperately we need to move. We have seriously outgrown this place. No matter how much stuff we get rid of, there just isn't enough space for three people to comfortably live in the 1100 or 1300 square feet of our home (whatever size it is). There is no where but the bathroom to have privacy, and if the TV is on downstairs you have to watch it or hear it because of the layout of the place, and the only spot to sit upstairs are our beds.

Supposedly, numbers have a lot of power and meaning. Things surrounding our daughter's birth, like the time, date and post-birth recovery room number at the hospital after all contain 125.  Maybe "lucky" number four just hasn't yet revealed itself to me, or if it has, it's not been positive.

Words words words

"Hello.  My name is Jillian.  How are you today?...Thank you!"  versus "Roar!", followed by psychotic laughter and some growling sounds - which is more pleasant to hear from a child, especially if you're trying to give them a treat?  Manners: we could still stand to work on those. 

We all know the saying that's been around forever - "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me".  BIG. FAT. LIE.  No one is immune to words.  The only way we become numb to things is by training our brains to block out the hurt or negativity, and that comes with practice, which is the painful part. 

A mom we often talk to at Little Gym revealed recently that she can't stand clutter and mess.  She would just die if she ever came to visit out house, but that's besides the point.  She said that she is constantly telling her son when he asks for different art supplies to have at the house, "no, honey, that's just for school" so she doesn't have to deal with the cleanup and setup.  I kept my thoughts to myself, but in my head I was wondering if her son had a strong desire to be creative and she was unknowingly crushing his artistic spirit because she's a neat freak, and he'll grow up to think doing art and creating things is wrong or bad because it's messy. 

You may have read our Facebook post a few weeks ago about what our daughter said at school while she was playing in the kitchen center.  She called her imaginary kids, "crackheads" and asked them what type of beer they wanted.  She swears she said "root beer", but we're pretty sure she didn't.  Her teachers weren't sure what to make of it, although they know what her dad does for a living.  Unfortunately, she learned the other word from me.  She's learned lots of probably undesirable phrases and words from me.  We spend lots of time in the car together driving to and from school, and rather than cursing when other drivers do things, I call them names, like "crackhead", "pee-poo", "poopyhead", "hippy", etc.  It could be worse...right? 

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind" - Dr. Seuss.  That's true to a certain point.  My husband isn't quite sure what to do with us when LP and I get wound up if we're both tired at night.  We feed off of each other's silliness and laugh hysterically in our fits of delirium.  But that saying doesn't mean we should feel free to sling around hateful and mean thoughts either.  It has been brought to my attention recently how often people judge each other.  It really hurts when it's done to us, but when you catch yourself doing it and then realize how regularly you do it (even if it's in your head and not out loud) it can be quite eye opening.

It is a challenge for me to completely stop cursing, but I know I need to.  It's taken me an incredibly long time to filter as much as I do, and having so many things in my head to keep track of now as a mother and professional the judgmental thoughts aren't present nearly as much as they used to be because there's no room.  But they're still there.  As always, we have to remember to think before we speak, even when we're trying to be funny.  Little ears pick up everything we say and can be easily influenced, especially when they love and admire the person who is saying it. 

Lenten Cleanse

"The moment I have realized God sitting in the temple of every human body, the moment I stand in reverence before every human being and see God in him - that moment I am free from bondage, everything that binds vanishes, and I am free." - Swami Vivekananda

Early Mardi Gras is never a good thing in my book.  When I used to walk in a parade, it meant freezing temperatures with not nearly enough clothes on for that kind of weather.  Now it means at least one of us is likely to be sick during parade season, and this year in particular, it also meant not enough of a break from last year's holiday meals before king cake season began.  Between last Thanksgiving and this Mardi Gras, I gained ten pounds. 

This is the third year in a row that I've given up sugar for Lent.  I went to Ireland in 2012 and while I was there, discovered the grass fed cattle.  Not only is the meat better for you if animals are grass fed, but the dairy products are, too.  I felt like everything tasted better, and I'll bet that the use of high fructose corn syrup is much less common if used at all in their foods, too, although I didn't start checking ingredients labels until a couple of years ago.  Now I regularly check labels, and it's sad  sugar is used in so many things.  Palm oil is another very commonly used ingredient, as is high fructose corn syrup - palm oil isn't so much an issue for us as it is more of a concern for primates habitats (yep, I'm a tree hugger), but hfcs is awful for human consumption. 

Nineteen days into Lent, I've failed more than a few times, but the fail today was pretty intense.  It actually started on Friday night when the hubs and I got home from Cirque de Soleil.  We'd gotten seafood dinners from Rouses to scarf down before the show because our little one was diagnosed with strep, and the sitter wanted minimized exposure so we had to cancel dinner plans at Maypop.  Dinner was fried food - shrimp, fries, and hush puppies.  When we got home from the show, we were both hungry again, so I finished off leftovers and went to bed.  The next day, I had more fries and then began the tummy troubles from way too much fried food.  Today I woke up dehydrated - weak, crampy, lethargic.  I drank an entire 2 liter of pH balanced water (Evamor) over the course of a few hours and eventually felt much, much better. 

But then...by this afternoon, it was getting to be nap time and I didn't want coffee.  Or I did, but it hasn't been agreeing with me lately mentally, so I decided to do an experiment.  Little one and I went to Starbucks and I got a green matcha frapp and a brownie with chocolate chunks.  Green matcha tea is good for you but all the sugar that goes into a frappuccino and the whipped cream is not, and the decadent brownie tasted really good, so all of my taste for sweets hasn't yet diminished.  When we got home, the tummy revolt began!  When all was said and done, I felt like I had taken a huge step back in my sugar detox.  Last week I had even participated in a flush and was doing pretty well - I lost two inches around my waist! 

After a soak in Epsom salts and essential oils and drinking tons more Evamor, plus having delicious homemade chicken noodle soup courtesy of the hubs, I'm feeling better.  Still not as great as I was earlier today, but not nearly as bad as post coffee shop.  The sugar addiction is real, y'all.  And the further into my detox/Lent we get, the more reason I'm seeing to continue limiting my sugar intake, but also our daughter's.  She doesn't understand value or time yet, but I'm trying my hardest to explain that we need to eat better and we don't have to buy everything just because it looks good or we're hungry at that moment.  As parents, we've got to set good examples for our kids and take care of ourselves so we are able to take care of them. 

Body Image Conditioning

I've posted before about people asking if I'm pregnant or if hubs and I are having another child.  Today is a bit different, though, because I'm going to address where my listening to this garbage comes from, and how I pray it doesn't affect my daughter her whole life like it's affected me.  

When I was a kid, and truly up until I had our girl, I could not gain weight.  My best friends called me "Skinny", and even the much skinnier twins that I shared the backyard fence with called me "Bones"- I hated that. In high school, I was a competitive athlete so "carbo loading" before races and even on a a regular basis was normal.  When I graduated high school, I weighed 97 lbs.  In college I never weighed enough to donate blood (never over 110 lbs.).  When I met my now husband we were 34 years old and I weighed 123 lbs.  Looking back, I'm amazed at how petite I was.  My heaviest was just before I gave birth to our little sweetheart, weighing in at 165 lbs. - I totally took advantage of eating for two when I was pregnant and loved it!  Now I'm 39.5 years old and weigh 154 lbs.  If I could lose 10 pounds during Lent by giving up alcohol and refined sugar (if it's listed in the first three ingredients of a food label it's not ok), I'll feel quite accomplished.  

My metabolism has obviously changed as I've aged. I'm sure it's hormone related, but it's also lifestyle differences.  Most of my working life I've had to stand all day.  Now I have a desk job and have for the last five years. I do set up meeting rooms full of chairs and sometimes tables, but most of my job is done at my desk in my office.  There is almost always sweets in the break rooms of all of the libraries that I visit during the course of the week.  I also work outside of my home and don't necessarily have a consistent work schedule - sometimes I work until 8 at night, sometimes I work Saturdays - so saying I'll join a gym would be a waste of money.  I also would need childcare, and the gyms we can afford don't offer that.  Hubs and I like to walk and ride bikes when we can, but we're also really tired when we get home from work and by the time we get dinner on the table, eat, and get through the bedtime routine, we're ready for sleep ourselves.  

The point of all of this is, yes, I'm much heavier than I used to be.  Does my posture help?  Do I like that my chin is disappearing into my neck?  Do I enjoy people looking at my gut before they look at my face to speak to me?  Do I find it endearing that so many people have asked me if I'm pregnant or when I'm due?  Do you think I like that my belly pushes the waist of my underwear and pants down? The answer to all of these is a big fat, "NO!".  

But we don't talk about weight in front of our daughter because the last thing I want for her is to have a complex.  She already asks me why I'm full all of the time.  She is built just like her dad and I were when we were younger.  Sooner than later, some classmate will make some comment about her body and the cycle will start in her brain just like it did in mine.  She'll be too thin, or too something or not enough something else.  

The saddest part is, it's the minority of people who make these asinine comments. The majority of people are really nice and even give compliments, but our brains are wired to retain the negative instead.  We are conditioned by our environment to believe awful things about ourselves.  I'd like to offer some Pavlovian reasoning here, but all I can say is that if we would all make the conscious effort to think before we speak (yes, I'm super guilty of violating this in other instances, but have gotten much better with age) and be more sensitive to how others may perceive our words, we'd stop feeding people's complexes....or giving them one in the first place.    

  

Carnival Time Thoughts

Hi!  In case you haven't seen all the pictures on Facebook or Instagram (@bluenautilus), I participated in a parade this year!  It's been 5 whole years since I was last in one.  This year, I was lucky enough to ride an art bike with the Krewe of Kolossos which is one of the many groups that participate in Krewe of Muses.  The multi-talented and super involved Katrina Brees is the artiste and mover and shaker behind this group as well as some others, like the Bearded Oysters who also walk in Muses. 

Having been in a walking group for five years with Persephone's Dragonflies and now riding in Kolossos, and getting unofficially invited to be part of Dames de Perlage next year, it's been really interesting to weigh my options and try and get perspective to come closer to making a decision on how to handle 2019. 

The biggest reason I stopped doing Dragonflies is because I got pregnant with our daughter. I've mentioned here and in my art blog before that her bedroom is what used to be my art studio.  There is no extra space for me to keep out a hot glue gun, a dress form, and a bustier in various stages of beading for weeks or months at a time.  I also really like when my husband and I can be in bed by 9 p.m. on work nights.  The moms I know who do Flyday and Dames de Perlage all stay up after everyone else has gone to bed to work on their costumes.  The Dames don't even hot glue - they hand sew seed beads!!  Their name literally means "ladies of beadwork", and their work is unbelievably gorgeous (and lightweight, unlike the Dragonfly bustiers which are heavy because of the glue and bigger beads)!

Riding the art bike in Krewe of Kolossos was perfect for where I am in my ever rationalizing brain right now.  I could still play dress up, but it kept me from being a perfectionist with my outfit because we had to wear black, white, and red under our marching band jacket and hat.  I could do whatever with my makeup and as long as I had the right colors on, I could have whatever kind of outfit underneath.  I also love riding my bike and the grasshopper bike I rode in the parade was an adult tricycle and the papier mache insect was nice and lightweight.  Plus, being in a big parade like Muses was an awesome experience because of the size and scope.  Seeing the city from that vantage point was incredible, and the people watching while waiting to line up was fabulous!  The Rolling Elvi were across the street and the Bearded Oysters were next to us.  We also got some sweet throws while the floats were lining up in front of us. 

Anyway, our girl is getting pretty into Mardi Gras and she was excited that I was in a parade.  Each year, we are able to add a little bit more to our parade viewing. She loves sitting on our shoulders catching stuff, and the older she gets, the easier it is to pack and prepare.  I realized at Muses when I got her a Mona Lisa pillow that all of her bed pillows save for the normal sized Frozen one are from parades!  No doubt where her mama is from, right?  Speaking of which, there was actually an infant who "rode" with her mom in the Bearded Oysters as a little pearl (in the strap on baby carrier on her  mom's torso)!  That's a true New Orleans girl! 

I'm not committing or not committing to anything yet for 2019, but I am very happy with how this Carnival season has turned out so far.  Next year, if the weather doesn't suck and we all stay well (these last few years have not exactly cooperated), I hope to add some more parade viewing to our list.  Happy Mardi Gras, y'all!!!