Anxiety Girl and Self Examination

Mr. Anxiety Girl says he wishes she wouldn’t worry so much. She wonders how someone who loves her would deprive her of her superpower. 

She’s also still waiting to see how she can use her superpower for good. 

Maybe she’s a villain. That would explain a few things. 

And now, the rest of the news

Surprise!
I’m pregnant.

All the News that’s Fit to Print

Yeah, I guess the Valentine’s post of this morning was a bit of a surprise after my year-long hiatus. I’d call it a sabbatical but I had been blogging more than seven years before the break.

It’s just that with Little Bird Tales and Cherry Blossoms {The Blog} and teaching piano and volunteering at school and serving my two callings and learning to put myself on the list I just couldn’t write about myself.

I did a lot of reading, though. Sometimes I run out of words and ideas and need to refill.

I’ve been busy. And I am busier. This winter I had a very strong impression to get a real job. So as soon as the kids went back to school in January I started working as a legal secretary.

Because I am a delusional crazy person I thought I could add a thirty-hour a week job to my life and not drop anything I was juggling. Of course I was wrong. There have been adjustments. There have been hiccups. There have been surprises. Paul and I are working through everything and wrapping our heads around our new reality. Not everything that’s going on is ready yet for prime time.

As soon as I started working all sorts of expensive calamities hit us, so we are no further with our goals than before but I finally have the emotional resilience to not completely shut down with these expensive surprises. It’s so nice to be able to say “well that sucks, there goes my paycheque” instead of panicking about another charge on our card that’ll never get paid off.

Progress.

Maybe this is the missing link to the mystery of my high blood pressure. Regardless, it feels good to be contributing to the family finances and I enjoy working. Now I just need to figure out exercising, cooking, cleaning, laundry, and keeping up with my other jobs, callings, and volunteer commitments. I just emailed a request to be released from one of my callings (the less demanding one) and one big volunteer thing wraps up in two weeks, so that’ll help. The job will not be long term, and there’s some comfort there, too.

My Funny Valentine

Against all odds we went on our Valentine’s date without children and on Valentine’s Day. I guess we are starting to get the hang of things. (Valentine’s Day being on a Saturday was a major player in this success as Saturdays are very good days for me, had the holiday been another day is likely have campaigned to celebrate on Saturday anyway.)

We had reservations for some fancy restaurant in town but cancelled the day before when we realized we wouldn’t be able to order off the regular menu, the whole night was a special Valentine’s menu with a prix fixe of $75 per person.

So we went to our favourite pizza place, Cavalli. We got there ten minutes after they opened (sun still shining) and had no problem getting a seat. We were definitely the best dressed. But our strawberry spinach salad was on point and our lobster pizza was good and we were as well fed as we would have been for so much more elsewhere.

At the end of the meal he excused himself to talk with whom we believe to be the owner because he noticed the Help Wanted sign on the door and he’s always wanted to learn how to cook with a wood fired oven and even though he already has a good job and it’s a demanding one maybe they’d let him work just a few hours a week and was it tacky and did I mind if he talked to them on our Valentine’s date? I didn’t mind. I was happy to see him so happy. I pulled out my phone and sent some young women related texts while he was away. Non conventional, perhaps, but he was so happy when he returned with an application that it made my night.

We had a quick errand to run, which followed our meal. We needed a specific design of duck tape which we had been informed was only available at Walmart so we took the childless opportunity to go to Satan’s Playground. It was 6 pm on Valentine’s Day at the parking lot was packed. We did not quickly find what we needed because store layouts are becoming increasingly poorly planned but eventually we did and quickly made our escape, laughing at how we really know how to do a classy date.

Who cares? We are old people who went to dinner at 5.

I’ve had it in my head for weeks that I wanted a real dessert. Something special, something decadent. So we set out in search of a bakery still open and found one near our farmers market with twenty minutes to spare. We left with caramel pecan apple bread. Not exactly the pastry or other special treat I had in mind but it looked really good and had won Taste of Coppell so we tried it. (And also because we are old boring people who don’t eat sugar often.)

We picked up the boys from our friends place, with whom we had swapped babysitting, got them to bed on time, and curled up on the couch to finally watch Better Call Saul where I fell asleep. (Not because of the show. Because I’m an old person.)

And we were happy.

Best Christmas Ever

Mid December my dad sent me a casual text asking about our trip to NASA for Red’s birthday, followed by “what are your plans for Christmas?” We had just been talking about what to get for him for Christmas! I replied that Paul didn’t have much time off and we would enjoy a quiet Christmas at home, and asked about his plans. He replied just as casually that he hadn’t been sure, waiting to see whether his parents would be in town or up north. He then asked whether we would like to go up for Christmas. Within an hour he had purchased tickets for the four of us to go up. Then he said, “you asked me what I wanted for Christmas, just show up. If you really want to put something under the tree I’ll give you a bottle of wine you can wrap.”

Friends, Christmas of 1997 is the last Christmas I have spent with any member of my family. I can’t express how overwhelmed I was at the prospect of going to Canada for Christmas.

Paul and I had been talking in hushed and covert language as we worked this out to avoid getting anyone’s hopes up in case it wouldn’t work. When it was settled I started to cry and my sweet Red, putting together what little he understood, said, “we would miss you for Christmas, but I understand you wanting to be with your family.” He was overjoyed to learn we would all be together.

The following two weeks were hectic. December is a crazy month anyway and with the ice storm at the beginning of the month many events were smushed together later on. I admit I didn’t always carry The Christmas Spirit with me and sometimes grumbled at the additional demands placed on me and my time. Knowing I was leaving town, leaving the country, kept me from doing something regrettable. I almost didn’t get packed before we left but I didn’t care!

It was a perfect trip.

There was real snow on the ground, unusual for Vancouver, which melted the following day. We saw all our family living in the lower mainland, including both my brothers on that side; the three of us have not been together in probably right years. We took the boys up to Grouse Mountain for some good winter memories and showed them the Observatory where we had a pre-wedding dinner/reception.

It was not a long trip, but finally being able to relax and be with family was so centering. I had fooled myself to soothe myself that it didn’t matter when I saw my family, but it was different to be with them for Christmas. The holidays really are special.

I wanted to keep that newly rediscovered peace with me for ever. It was the best Christmas.

The Bookcase

I bought the cheapest three-shelf bookcase I could find this afternoon and hastily assembled it before piano lessons. I pinterested it a little, modpodging some sheet music wrapping paper I had picked up last year to the backing. As I attached the backing, however, the entire unit was slightly askew, making the backing crooked. Not only did the bookcase sit slightly awry, but the sheet music was most definitely slanted.

It would not do.

I couldn’t live with it. Nor could I even wait until tomorrow. So while my children were getting ready for bed I pulled apart a piece of cheap furniture which, once assembled should never be disassembled. I made a slight mess of things and had a few moments when I regretted my decision. Why couldn’t I just accept the imperfection?

I happened to be texting my smart friend Rachel as I did this. My afternoon with the bookcase was a literal metaphor for her afternoon. We commiserated that we can both forgive others or even not even see their flaws at all, but our own? They are massive and glaring. There is no ignoring or forgiving our own.

I would not rest. Fortunately before I passed the point of no return I discovered my error, caused by the thick pile of the carpet. I was parenting from the other room at this point so I stopped to tuck the boys in.

Tonight after pajamas and teeth and scriptures and prayers and songs I said the following to my children as I turned off the lights, “okay, go to sleep. I love you. I’ll be hammering in the next room but not for long. Good night!”

(You can send my parenting awards directly to my home.)

I did it. I fixed it.

This won’t do at all. It does nothing to reduce my delusions of grandeur. This is not the disaster it was supposed to be. Heaven help us, all I can find is one tiny flaw.

Two flaws, actually, because I also need more music. I think I’ve got boxes of music at Mum’s, but who knows when I’ll get those?

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