Monday, October 12, 2015

Midnight Confessions

A man's very highest moment is, I have no doubt at all, 
when he kneels in the dust, 
and beats his breast, 
and tells all the sins of his life.  

- Oscar Wilde  

I was supposed to be here by now.

I was due on October 9, 1980, but back in the 1980s, people weren't in such a hurry & didn't feel the need to schedule everything. Crazy as it sounds, doctors often waited until a pregnant woman went into labor all on her own to deliver a baby, & so I came along six days post-due date on October 15, 1980. See? It's usually fine if you wait on the baby. I am doing well.

If you're sharp, & I know some of you are, you may recall that Miss Moreau's birthday, on which a few significant events in the novel that shares her name take place, is October 9. So, yeah, that was not totally random.

For plot purposes, I needed her to have a fall birthday that comes smack dab in the middle of the semester, & for continuity purposes, I needed a date I could remember without having to constantly check earlier chapters to ensure I was using the same date. I thought it'd be weird to use my own birthday, but have since discovered J.K. Rowling & Harry Potter have the same birthday, so I guess it's an acceptable thing to do. I'm in the early stages of this other book that's been bugging me & so maybe that protagonist will have my birthday. That remains to be seen as she doesn't even have a definite name yet.

I say all that to let you know that I'm addressing you today as a thirty-four-year-old woman for the last time; the big THREE FIVE boom officially lowers Thursday.

Before I continue with new business, I have a few updates from last week for you. Yes, I have taken steps to renew my driver's license. I did it all online, & I took a picture of the screen proving I did it *in case* I should for some reason need to prove to a cop that I am a responsible citizen if the sticker doesn't arrive in the mail before Thursday . . . responsible enough to take a picture with my phone, but too lazy to actually print the sheet out, that is.

I know you're too shy to ask but secretly are wondering, Did you order the tote? Did you?! I did. Here's the deal: I am not 100% sold on the tote, having not seen it in person. It's a catalogue/online only item, however, as my wise mother reminded me, if I don't like it I should be able to return it to our local Talbot's. So, the two-toned teal tote is en route as I type.

The Ominous Teal blouse arrived late last week. I like it. I nailed the size, which is always a victory when shopping online, & I like the overall fit. The only downside is the color. It turns out Ominous Teal  = dark green. I suppose there's a hint of teal, but it's not the punch of color I was hoping for to begin the process of jazzing up my black & white wardrobe.

We survived the inaugural Cookie Wednesday. When I told you last week that there is an elite group of people who can check Reagan's number & work the pump remote to give her insulin for carbs, I left one name off the list. I left Trey's name off the list, & that's my bad.

As most of you're aware, Trey spends his days in a suit (literally, he does) lawyering. When he's in town & he's not in court, he is a skip away from WEE School. Due to the fact that he does travel occasionally & he is required to appear in court occasionally (& courts don't recognize Cookie Wednesday), I tend to block Trey from my mind as a possible doser of insulin since I can't count on him to be the regular go-to Cookie Wednesday guy. Sorry for the mental block, dear.

Trey was (1) in town & was (2) not in court last Wednesday morning, & so he handled Cookie Wednesday duty. We'll be winging it week to week with Cookie Wednesday, & I am sure you know that all the latest Cookie Wednesday news & other WEE School happenings can be found right here, so stay tuned.

I'd like to now shift our focus to, well, me. What follows is a list of things I'd like to confess before I turn thirty-five.

First, I get kind of panicky when my mom leaves town. She spent last week in Destin with her sisters. I am sure it was relaxing for them, but when she leaves town I feel like I have to be a real adult, working with no net, & that is stressful. I don't recall ever having actually done this, but I like knowing that, if I need to, I can call her & ask her to come sit with the kids while I vacate the house. I don't mean vacate the house because I have to go to work, or need to buy groceries, but because I need space between me & the kids. There are some days I wake up & am flabbergasted that I have two children for whom I am responsible; I mean, when did I stop reading the Sweet Valley High books & learn to drive?

Second, I think the Peter Cetera & Cher duet "After All" is an amazing song. I've loved it a long time, & when I was younger, I thought the lyrics were, "After all the stripes & stars, we keep coming back to these two hearts . . ." I am not sure how old I was when I realized it is not a duet about two people who love each other, & are also patriotic. The actual lyrics are, "After all the stops and starts, we keep coming back to these two hearts . . ." I suppose that does make a little more sense.

While we're on the subject of Cher, I listen to "If I Could Turn Back Time" very, very often, & I fell in love with Adam Lambert when I heard him sing a portion of "Believe" early on in season eight of American Idol. It was at that point I highly suspected Adam Lambert would never fall in love with me.

Third, I am considerably lazier than some of you may believe. Every now & then someone tells me they read the blog & they just love it & they don't know how I do it all. Here's the thing: I enjoy the writing, & often I need to write for my own sanity, & that's why the blogs keep coming. You'd change your tune about me "doing it all" if you saw the condition of my toilets half the time.

Pertinent to my last confession: the wreath hanging on our front door is a Christmas wreath. It's been there since last Christmas. My Aunt Lisa made me an amazing wreath featuring a red metal 'Z' she found. I don't even have another wreath or other hanging decor for our front door, & so I just left the Christmas one there because it reasonably matches the exterior colors of our home & our name is Zeigler all year long, not just at Christmas, &, basically, I am so, so lazy about some things.

Our neighbor across the street has draped her front porch with hay bales & pumpkins & mums & it makes me feel bad, it does. I actually bought three pumpkins at the grocery store last week & they're sitting on the table that's between the rockers on the front porch . . . but, yeah, the wreath is still there. When I was on the hunt for the table runner I blogged about recently, I looked for a fall-ish wreath, but I didn't see anything I liked . . . & it's going to be Christmas before we know it anyway. In fact, if you're in the market for a Christmas wreath, there are a great many of those in stores right now.

Here's what I want: I want a neutral wreath that I can leave on the door all year long, removing it & storing it only briefly when I exchange it for my lovely Christmas wreath. And p.s., I am not a fan of a lot of fake floral nonsense. If you're out & about & see anything that fits this description, do let me know.

Here are the children filled with glee over the purchase of the pumpkins.

So, moving on down my list . . . Fourth: Too often, I see Reagan as a diabetic first & a child second. I was smacked in the face with this last week when her Wednesday night Bible teacher posted this on Facebook:

I saw it & then I cried a little bit because my initial reaction to the picture was surprise that Reagan looks so happy & normal. And of course she looks happy & normal, but that's not the picture I have of her in my mind much of the time. I guess maybe I expected to see a giant 'D' on her forehead. One of my fears is that Reagan will run excellent A1Cs, but other important things will be neglected in their wake.  

Fifth, while we're on the subject of parenting failures, Henry's slept with me since he was born & he shows no signs of a willingness to end this arrangement. I was emotionally traumatized by the lack of sleep that followed the birth of both my kids (no really, I mean it); it's a place to which I cannot return. Just about the time I was weaning Henry & should've encouraged him to sleep independently, Reagan was diagnosed with diabetes. Trey & I were up & down all night long checking blood sugar. I reached a point where I just didn't care where anyone slept as long as we were all getting enough sleep to function. 

I suppose we're going to have to buy Henry a big bed & Henry & I can take our nightly party to his room & maybe he'll eventually sleep in there alone. I mean I assume he's not going to take me to college with him. 

He's really a lot of fun. He's learned to take selfies on what he refers to as my phone, my phone!; this is some of his work from one night last week:

Sixth, I miss my grandfather. He died in August of 2007. I miss his voice. He had a wonderfully deep, booming voice. I wish he could read some of the things I write. I never write without thinking of him, & I never load the dishwasher without thinking of him. His mother was German, & the German in him shone brightly, perhaps never more so than when he loaded the dishwasher, something he insisted on doing, which I now realize was because there really is one best way to do it.

Seventh, on Friday night, I took myself out for dinner to celebrate my last Friday night as a thirty-four-year-old.

I was home with the kids all day Friday. It's amazing how long a day can seem despite spending it in your pajamas. Both kids had runny noses & they bickered with each other over every last little thing. I was up & down, up & down all day. Every time I'd sit down (to rest, to eat, to urinate), someone needed to blow their nose, or another fight erupted. We probably have around fifty or sixty coloring books in our house, & at one point Friday, they were fighting over this one coloring page they'd both decided was the ONLY coloring page that would satisfy them. I did the adult thing & yanked it away from them & tore it to pieces.

Shortly after this incident, Trey arrived home. I overheard him asking the kids who'd left the pieces of paper all over the kitchen floor, & then I heard him questioning Reagan when she replied, "Mama." So, I emerged from my bedroom, where I'd been exchanging my snot-stained sweatpants for a fresh pair, & told Trey I was going to go for a drive.

My initial thought was of course Chick-fil-A. Given my ensemble & the general disarray of my hair, I knew I'd be getting food at a drive-thru, & 99% of the time, that means Chick-fil-A.

As I drove away from the house, I began to broaden my drive-thru horizons. I didn't have the kids with me, nor was I picking up food for them, & so I headed to Scott's, where I ordered a bunch of fried butterfly shrimp & some turnip greens. I had to wait a bit for the food, but the wait was fantastic. I sat in the silent car, & then when they handed me my shrimp & turnip greens, I parked the car & ate. The ambiance in the car was as delicious as the food; it was dark, it was quiet, & I sat on my rear-end the entire time.

After finishing off my delicious low-carb dinner, I drove to Eskamoe's & ordered this:

I don't often visit Eskamoe's, & when I do my usual is one scoop of cake batter custard with chocolate flakes. I was feeling bold Friday night (& I was wearing sweatpants, if you recall), & so I got two scoops & I asked that it all be served in a waffle cone bowl. I was disappointed that the waffle cone bowl was stale & inedible (I mean surely they know people want to crush it & eat it?!), but that worked out okay since I wasn't able to finish both scoops of custard anyway & so eating the bowl in which all the calories were served was out of the question.

Obviously I've not compiled a list of all the sins of my life, nor have I been kneeling in the dust (though I think Mr. Wilde likely intended the dust to be metaphorical), but I've unburdened myself of a few things that have been on my mind. Goodness knows I need a lighter load as I metaphorically climb the metaphorical hill on whose summit I'll soon stand.

Have a wonderful week, & I will, the Lord willing, see you on the other side of thirty-five.


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