Sometimes, there is sadness.

Sometimes, in my life, there is sadness. Probably there is sadness in yours too. If we're being honest, there may be a lot of sadness. And I guess I'm wondering today why we don't ever talk about it.

Oh, we talk about it in a global sense. Depression and mental illness are everywhere in television, print and prescription ads for Cymbalta and the one with the windup doll (or is that Cymbalta?). But in our own little lives, sadness and depression of any sort are still so taboo. We don't allow ourselves to be sad. Or, we don't allow ourselves to be visibly sad. We are expected to "get over" things so quickly and never, never be anything less than cheery.

My grandmother died recently. I didn't cry. I guess there are a lot of reasons why I didn't cry, but one of the biggest ones was that no one else was crying either. No one else wanted to appear sad, to admit they had experienced a loss. I teared up at her grave, but didn't break. I sat around blankly and watched a lot of TV as an escape, but only when no one was around. I couldn't be seen as weak, after all. But I didn't cry. I didn't want to have to explain my sadness, or to defend it. I didn't think anyone wanted to watch me wallow in it. But here's the thing: I was sad. I'm still sad. I'm sad a lot. I'm not just sad about my grandmother. But I'd never admit that in mixed company.

Everything in my life is not perfect. Everything in my life is not jolly. When someone asks me how I am doing, I always answer the same way: "Fantastic." I'm not really fantastic. In fact, if you were to take a poll, I am probably fantastic about 12% of the time, maybe less. But I say it every time. Why? Because no one wants to talk about feeling any differently. My brother and I used to love a comedy routine by Paul Reiser where he says when people ask how you are doing, they are really requesting that you "register that I asked, and then proceed not to tell me". So I have my stock answer, and I move on.

I'm not a miserable person, and I don't believe in dumping my sadness onto everyone. We all know plenty of people who have become, probably because they can't speak about their real emotions, completely inappropriate over sharers. The cashier at 7-11 who proceeds to tell you about the hellacious fight she had with her boyfriend the night before, the Facebook friends who post every mundane and excruciating detail of their existence in the hopes that someone gives a crap, the acquaintance who shares with a group that she got into a fist fight with her neighbor, and I could go on and on. Do we do this because we can't be real with the people we should be being real with? When did actual emotions become such a taboo?

I don't know how to end this. I don't have a point, or a solution. I just feel sad. And if you love me, you probably should know that.

And this pretty much explains why I don't cook

Lest anyone think I am that clever, let me tell you that I I found this here. And it is the sad, yet hilariously honest truth. Here's what I hate about cooking:

• The deciding what exactly I am going to cook part. Menu planning. Snore city.
• The going shopping for ingredients I am never going to use again part. Dried mustard seed anyone? Anyone ever using that again?
• The cutting up of things part. Paring knives are not my friends. Neither are peelers.
• The touching of raw meat part. There is probably some sort of mathematical equation to sum up how the more I have to touch raw meet the less likely I am to want to eat it later.
• The mess left on the stove that my husband won't clean up part.
• The having tons of dishes to wash part. See above about husband not cleaning part.
• The my kids saying "What's this", and "I don't like (insert crap food I made here)"
• The having leftovers that I know I won't eat but make me feel vaguely guilty part.
• The having to dispose of those leftovers weeks later and seeing what has become of them part and again feeling non-virtuous and like I am wasting the planet's natural resources because I don't like leftover squash and noodle casserole.

Here's what I like about cooking:

• Um, nothing. I don't even usually like what I cooked, and even if I do, the things I hate about the experience far outweigh the possible food goodness. Because I can achieve food goodness from opening a bag of potato chips and eating them with lots of dip and there is little to no clean up from that.

So, yeah. I said it. And now I'll go see what's in the refrigerator to make for dinner.

Happy Birthday.

"Yesterday it was my birthday, I hung one more year on the line. I should be depressed, cause my life is a mess, but I'm having a good time....."

Okay, so my birthday was Tuesday, but whatever, right? I wish I had a fun, exciting birthday story to share, but unfortunately I am caught up in yet another round of sleeplessness, which made my birthday, along with most of my days lately, pretty miserable.

I have trouble sleeping. I have for a while. There are periods where it is tolerable, and periods where it is not. Now it is not. My problem is frustrating. It isn't so much the going to sleep that's a problem. I'm pretty exhausted every night and go to sleep without too much effort. That hasn't always been the case. Several years ago, I went through a period where I just couldn't even go to sleep, which was super duper crappy. This problem, though, is at this point almost equally sucky. I got to sleep. Then, about an hour later, I wake up. And an hour later, I wake up again. And again. And again. And so on. All night long. Sometimes I count the number of wake ups. Sometimes they number 4 or 5. Other times, 15. Sometimes I go back to sleep pretty quickly. Other times, I am awake for longer. It all adds up to an unproductive night of sleeping, which leads to an unproductive day, which leads to a cranky night, which leads to tension in the house. So.

I have been putting off any sort of medical intervention on this. I have a strange problem with feeling like some sort of addict when I go to a doctor. I don't know why. I've only taken sleeping pills once before, during my third pregnancy, when my insomnia was at its worst. And that was almost 6 years ago. Still, I feel like I walk in, and they are whispering, "What does she want NOW?" I know they aren't. Rationally, I know this. But the feeling persists. But I went yesterday. And suffered through the self induced humiliation. I am now the proud taker of Ambien, AND just to keep my anxiety at bay, Zoloft. Yay.

I hope it works though. I'd really like to sleep again.

Slowly easing back in.....

With an easy post! (It does happen to be completely true, though. I have started and stopped flossing many, many times over the years.) And, another aside. Despite my lack of flossing, my spotty dentist visiting track record (my last visit, earlier in the summer, was the first in 4 years, sorry, Mom), and the fact that I only use a little bit of toothpaste because I hate when my mouth gets all foamy, I have perfect teeth. Seriously. Every time I do venture near a dental chair, I'm told by all that serve me what perfect teeth I have. "Just keep doing what you're doing," my dentist told me last time. Sure thing, bud. See you in a few years.

Stay tuned for a post where I wax nostalgic about the fact that my kids are growing up entirely too fast.

I think my kids are absolutely stunning

So I'm subjecting you to pictures of them.

My brother got married (at the beach!) which was lovely and great and I wish them the best and all that, but it was a fantastic opportunity for my kids to dress up in fancy outfits and for me to take pictures of them while they did it. They all performed admirably in service and managed to look amazing while doing it.

They are so totally awesome. I should look at these pictures every time I get frustrated by their constant bickering, tattling, and general disagreeableness. Look, I just made up a very long new word.

Riley wore her hair in a "messy bun" that required 22 bobby pins to stay in. Ally had to have her hair curled TWICE, and all the curls still fell out before the ceremony. I had to use water, spray gel and actual hair spray on Jeremiah to get his hair to lay down as much as it did. The end result was totally worth it though, don't you think?

Can you believe I actually made these?

(As everyone who knows me and my cooking abilities laughs hysterically....)

No, really. I did. Okay, to be fair, the husband did the piping. But, I'm doggone proud of my efforts. Tuxedo Strawberries for the spring auction at my children's school. Made by me. Yay!

What we've been doing

And along with this incredibly descriptive and imaginative title I bring you photos, the first of which being:



This is Riley at a cheer competition in Richmond, VA. This spring has been literally littered (hmm, does that qualify as alliteration?) with cheer comps of all shapes and sizes. We've been to Ocean City, Richmond, Washington DC, and probably other places I have blocked out of my mind due to the overindulgence of glitter and big hair bows. Nonetheless, Riley has had a pretty productive season, and has finally mastered the elusive standing back handspring. Now, she's learning the even more elusive double standing back handspring. I wish her luck.





Here we are on our Easter cruise to Mexico. It was a lovely, albeit very short, very crowded trip and we got to visit some Mayan ruins, which the kids could have cared less about. We did, however, learn from our guide that the movie 2012 got it all wrong. Sure, the Mayan calendar is ending on December whatever in 2012, but that's just the current calendar, which has been going for 5000 years. At the end of it, another 5000 year one starts. Or something like that. But I'm breathing easier now, and I'm sure you are too.

Here we have Riley running in her first ever race. Winchester has their Apple Blossom Festival every year and one of the events is the Kids' Bloomin Mile. Despite no prior running for a purpose experience, Riley decided to enter and actually did pretty well. She placed 48th in her age group, 8 and 9 year old girls, with a time of 8:58. I know I'd be hard pressed to run a mile in under nine minutes (Wait, let me stop lying. I've be hard pressed to run a mile, period), so I'm giving her mad props. "You better work (cover girl), work it girl (give it a twirl). Do your thing...." And yes, I just quoted a RuPaul song. What of it?

And lastly, cause I'm lazy and getting tired of cutting and pasting pictures from Facebook (shaddup, I'm at work, not at home where I have easier access to my pictures. Sorry Dad. I do work, really, I do), here's Ally at the above mentioned Apple Blossom Festival Grand Feature Parade. Doesn't she look totally Small Town America? And adorable?

So folks, I am still alive and kicking. I think of my 2 or 3 faithful readers often. Hope you are all doing well. And with that I say, Seacrest out. And I'm not even watching American Idol this year.