Feeling Sorry for Myself

The Weekend That Broke The Camel’s Back

June 19, 2013 · 5 comments

in Bad Things, Baking, Birthdays (everyone else's), Church, Craziness (hildie's), Feeling Sorry for Myself, I'm Not So Great, Mister, Relief Society Pres., Why Hildie's tired

You guys! Last weekend was one of those times when everything stacks up and crushes me near to death. It’s all I could do to keep breathing til last night.

First of all, it was my anniversary. Nice, pretty mellow. But still it’s a whole evening when I had lots of other things to do. What other things, you might ask? Well, at church the men are given a little gift on father’s day. A lot of times the teenage girls are in charge of it (actually, the leaders are in charge. The girls just hand them out). But this year the women were in charge. I was thinking of something store-bought but I realized how much I hate to receive store-bought stuff so I decided to make some monster cookies. In case you have lived a sheltered, pitiful life and don’t know what they are: kind of a half-peanut butter, half-oatmeal cookie with M&Ms and chocolate chips. Only I don’t have a good recipe. So I had to search the interwebs to find something worthy. Which required me making a whole ton of Monster Cookies to try out. The grand winner was this recipe by Sally’s Baking Addiction. It’s a keeper because it’s not too heavy on the oatmeal; too much oatmeal makes a cookie taste blah. So my anniversary cut into my baking time.

On my way home from working out on Friday I stopped to buy all the M&Ms and chocolate chips. Nothing like being absolutely soaked with sweat holding 15 bags of candy. I’m sure people suspected bulimia. And the stores here don’t provide grocery bags (of course I had forgotten mine in the car, as always) so I was dropping bags of M&Ms left and right. Those suckers are slippery! But I made it home with all my chocolate and began to bake.

I spent some of Friday and most of Saturday making 90 giant Monster Cookies. I have a gigantic mixer that does three or four batches at a time, so it really wasn’t as much trouble as it sounds. My counselors did all the wrapping and labelling and i think the cookies were a big hit.

But you know that wasn’t all I had to do, right? Mister dragged me to a movie on Friday night. I can’t remember what it was called but it was Danish and I liked it very much. It put me behind schedule. As did the wedding we had to go to in San Antonio on Saturday morning. Two hours each way for a 40-minute ceremony. Oy. But we discovered a new (and delicious!) BBQ place halfway between San Antonio and Austin and that made everything all better (the brisket melted in my mouth. Divine!)

Also this weekend: Arabella had to give a talk in church. Mormons don’t have a clergyman that speaks in church every week. Instead, members of the congregation are asked to speak about a given topic. Everybody gets a turn, aren’t we so lucky? Once kids turn twelve they’re fair game for speaking, too. This was Arabella’s first talk and it was about fathers so that meant that I had to help her with it instead of pawning it off on Mister. Much encouragement and proofreading ensued.

This wasn’t our only “first” at church either. India got asked to play the prelude music in church for the first time (piano not organ). Meaning I had to nag her to practice several times (“Mom, nobody even listens to the prelude music!”). She did a really good job and I’m guessing she’ll get asked again. Our house was filled with hymns all weekend, which seems nice in theory but really just put me on edge.

Then there were the teenagers nagging me to sign up for summer church camps right this second, requiring me to decide exactly what our itinerary is going to be as camp is four states away and will require travel of 10-12 days total. There is nothing that I despise as much as planning things in advance and I’ve been avoiding the details of our big summer trip. But there I was trying to get the kids all signed up for camps, knowing that there were only four slots left at the session they wanted to go to (“what do you mean you can’t remember your camp password from last year? Well, then they can email it to you. You forgot your email password too???” ) It took over an hour but we finally got it squared away.

There were Father’s Day presents to wrap, cards to nag the kids to make, and the Father’s Day meals to prepare. And a whole bunch of church busywork that takes a million years and is no fun at all but had to be done for Sunday.

It’s really a wonder that I only burned one tray of cookies. As much multi-tasking as I was doing, there should have been a few dozen burned.

And then there was Jasper. Poor, poor Jasper. It was his birthday on Sunday too. But I felt sorry for him having to share his day with Mister, and that it was on a Sunday (no eating out or having much fun being the Sabbath Day and all), so we lied and told him that we hadn’t looked at the calendar properly and that his birthday was actually Monday. Thank goodness he bought it! Having his birthday yesterday instead of Sunday was so much better. We went swimming with friends and he didn’t have to share his special day with his dad. It ended up being a great idea. I’ll have to remember to lie to my kids a lot more often.

OK, this is officially the most boring blog post I’ve ever written. But I just wanted you to know what I’ve been up to. I’ve had good reasons to slack on blogging and I’ve got the dark circles under my eyes to to prove it.

 

My Three Worst Traits

May 26, 2013 · 4 comments

in Bad Things, Craziness (hildie's), Feeling Sorry for Myself, I'm Not So Great

Yes, I’m brilliant, witty, charming and all things wonderful. But I do have a few flaws which I try to disguise as much as possible. But here they are in all their glory:

1. I am a horrible, terrible procrastinator. If it’s possible to do something later, I will. Even if it’s not possible to do something later, I’ll still try. It’s the hardest the struggle in my life, to do something long before it’s supposed to be done. I end up stressing out and panicking but I never learn my lesson. Never. I guess I was born this way. I’m going to try to start a movement informing everyone that we procrastinators can’t help being the way we are, and that we need societal recognition and acceptance. One day I’m hoping to live in a world where people who put things off til that last minute are celebrated for the passionate, brilliant, easily-distractable people we are.

2. Opinionated. This is not really a bad trait in and of itself. I am the child of a very opinionated person, and all of us children ended up equally opinionated. But I can be a smidge judgmental about the way other people do things (inferior to my way, obviously). Fortunately for everyone, I usually keep my judgments to myself (hey parents who let their kids sleep in their beds, I’m talking to you!) but my opinions on most everything else is fair game for discussion. I’ve never been shy about sharing my ideas about everything. I am totally fine if someone else has a differing opinion; as a matter of fact I relish a good discussion. But I’m not a shy little violet who doesn’t say what’s on her mind. I’ve really had to learn to scale back my opinions since I became the Relief Society President. I don’t want to go around offending all the women at church. While I like a nice, strong personality, many people can’t handle it. And I’m trying to be lovely and supportive to everyone while trying to be true to who I am and that’s a little though sometimes.

3. I hate cleaning. And most housework in general. I have learned to stay somewhat on top of it because with six kids things can go downhill terribly fast. But you throw in that procrastination and there is nothing I wouldn’t rather do to distract myself from mopping/sorting laundry/scrubbing the sink. I would absolutely consider polygamy if I could pick a wife with cleanliness OCD who would do all the crappy household cleaning.

Hi, I’m Hildie and I’m a Procrastinator.

February 23, 2013 · 2 comments

in Bad Things, Craziness (hildie's), Feeling Sorry for Myself, Holidays, I'm Not So Great, Making Stuff, Why Hildie's tired

It’s currently 9 am and I have been up for four hours already. Instead of finishing India’s pioneer skirt way ahead of time like a good girl, I was up hemming it at 5:00 this morning. But I made good time and got the apron done too. I even had time to add pockets. Everything was finished on time and we made it out of the house at the appointed time at 6:45. I really would have liked to sleep in today. I have ward council at 7:30 am tomorrow so no sleeping in for another week. Blech. It’s my own fault, I guess.

Honestly I don’t know why I didn’t make the skirt months ago. Or even a week ago. Why do I always wait until the last second? The same thing happened on Valentine’s Day. I planned the kids valentines and ordered the supplies a whole month in advance. But I waited to make them until the night before. And of course I was so tired that I figured I’d finish them the next morning–forgetting that the kids hand out Valentine’s first thing.

Sometimes doing things early does backfire. I finished a few Valentines and Ada put them in a box on the table (each one had a homemade chocolate chip cookie. Texas is totally cool with homemade food being brought to school. I really like the idea of the kids getting at least one treat that isn’t chock full o’ chemicals.)  Of course Margaret, my dog frenemy, pushed a chair out so she could climb up and ate several cookies.  So sometimes doing things early is not so great. But I should know better than to keep edible things where the dog can reach them.

Here I am 41 years old and I swear I’m still as bad a procrastinator as I was when I was 21. When will I learn? Are you a procrastinator? Were you ever? I seriously need to learn how to motivate myself not to put things off. I’m driving myself batty!

Here are the valentines. They turned out really cute even though I waited til the last minute to put them together. I am, as ever, a Valentine’s Day overachiever.

photo 0c84a242-3c98-4142-af64-cc5954d26978_zps4a33f0eb.jpg

I Did It! I Kept My Resolution!

January 3, 2013 · 6 comments

in Feeling Sorry for Myself, Holidays, I'm Not So Great, Serious

I posted this over at Segullah today, but thought it was pertinent to everyone. At least everyone who is celebrating a New Year. If you celebrate Chinese New Year instead then maybe you shoud skip this (and ni hou to you, by the way).

As a person who constantly fails at New Year’s Resolutions, I rarely make them anymore. Last year something clicked and not only did I make a couple of resolutions, but I actually kept them. One was to go all year without drinking Mt. Dew. This is a really big deal because I’m pretty much an addict. I can turn down other pop but not The Dew. So I drank an entire 2 liter bottle last New Years Eve and did not have another drop for 365 days.

The other goal I kept was to hang my clothes up every night. I always stay up too late (the house is so beautifully quiet!) and end up stumbling to bed ready to pass out. I drop my clothes on the floor and slide into bed. You would think that the 90 seconds it takes to hang up my clothes wouldn’t be such a big deal. But it has been. It wasn’t until I finally could say, “it’s not like I’m going to want to hang these up tomorrow either. I should just do it now,” that the light bulb turned on. And we all know how piles of clothes beget piles of clothes. Better to nip it in the bud.

This New Year’s Eve found me dreamily imagining the great things I would accomplish this year: meaningful scripture study? Never going to bed with a messy kitchen? Restricting the time I spend online? Not eating sugar all year? It wasn’t until yesterday that I thought of something I’d really like to accomplish: I want to be more creative.

I constantly see cute projects everywhere and think, “I’ll bet I could do that!” But I rarely do. I almost never try. Doing creative projects—whether artsy, craftsy or even writing—makes me feel selfish and indulgent. Creative acts make me feel vital and alive and really work out the stress in my life. However, that naggy, rotten voice in my head pipes up and tells me what a waste of time it all is. I should be sorting laundry and throwing out rotten leftovers. I haven’t earned the right to do something fun—which is how creativity feels to me.

But I’m telling that voice to shut up. I’m making Craft Hour from 9:30-10:30 every morning. There will not be appointments scheduled or sinks scrubbed. This is the time when I can let loose the creativity I keep shut away. For once I’m actually thrilled about a resolution. I already have today’s project laid out on my entry hall floor (new living room curtains!).

Are you telling that negative voice in your head to just shut up this year? Are you setting goals? Do you find the whole thing ridiculous? Is failure your middle name?

Me Being Lonesome

September 13, 2012 · 7 comments

in Feeling Sorry for Myself, Mister

There is a certain bliss when your children are all in school: the peace, the quiet, the cleanliness of the house that lasts for hours, not seconds. I would never for one second use the word “lonely” to describe myself while my kids are gone. But this week I have been lonely. Mister, who has been working from home for the past two and a half years, got a new job where he has to go into the office every single day. For the whole day. Although he is not used to this schedule it’s a good job with good health insurance so we’re pretty happy. But I’m suddenly home all alone. In the past Mister had a pretty flexible schedule and we could sneak out to a noon movie or catch up on old Mad Men episodes. Now he has to sit in an office all day every day and it is kind of cramping his style. But a regular paycheck is certainly not cramping his style so he will have to adjust.

Mister is also a singer. As in, singing all the time.

Opera-style at the top of his lungs.

I’m not sure how many people have to scream “BE QUIET” at the top of their lungs across the house to their husbands but I had to do it fairly often. Loud Wagnerian arias are a little annoying when you’re trying to have a phone conversation. Naturally he manages to control the singing when he’s in an office. Which is too bad for his new coworkers. He makes up some pretty hilarious lyrics for his faux-opera songs.

So here I am, all by my lonesome. My built-in playmate is gone. Now I’m going to have to rely on my friends to entertain me. Or else I’ll just take naps whenever I want without anybody barging in and saying, “why are you sleeping?”.

Is there a word for half sad and half excited?

Olympic Sports I Would Be Good At

August 10, 2012 · 5 comments

in Feeling Sorry for Myself, I'm Not So Great, Sports

It’s hard to watch the Olympics and not imagine yourself doing some of those sports. Even if you are a 41 year-old woman who hasn’t raised her heartbeat once in the last six months. So really this is all theoretical. It’s more about affinity than ability. But let’s consider the possibilities here. Some sports are a little more promising than others:

Archery: Not only is this cool, it requires not aerobic skill. And this will come in handy when the world ends. Zombies or no.

Javelin. Again, sharp sticks appeal to me. Although the female javelin-throwers look awfully strapping so I’m guessing I might be a bit on the wimpy side.

Any sort of jumping. I have long legs. They’ve got to help me in some way. And since I’m a pitifully slow runner, the racing events are out.

Anything equestrian. Well, aside from the fact that this sport is so breathtakingly expensive, I could definitely handle sitting on a horse. You don’t get out of breath, right? Then sign me up!

Sailing. This is actually something I’ve done before. You can’t live in the Great Lakes without spending time on a sailboat. Although my dad used to get pretty mad at me for being a moronic sailor.

The real question here is which sports I would be the worst at:

Diving. Heights? Check. Spinning? Check. Falling? Check. Water? Check. Well, those are all the things I hate most in the world. Why don’t the divers just scrape their fingernails on chalkboards on the way down too?

Water Polo.  Swimming and balls? Well, that’s just a recipe for disaster. Listen, I can tread water. Or I can catch a ball (uh, not really) but there is no possibility of me doing both at the same time. Plus I just can’t stomach the idea of a bathing suit that zips up the back.

Beach volleyball. I have bad memories of playing volleyball in gym class. (“Playing” being a relative term.) So imagine having to embarass myself not just playing volleyball but playing volleyball in a bikini. Diving and hitting and throwing in a bikini!!! What kind of kinky sadists came up with this idea? Oh yea, Californians. I wouldn’t do this sport as a favor to the world’s population.

Now that I think about it, my best chance at an Olympic gold medal is to wait for Cookie-Eating to become an event. Americans would dominate!

What are your best and worst events in your imaginary world?

Why May is Horrid

June 5, 2012 · 10 comments

in Bad Things, Craziness (hildie's), Feeling Sorry for Myself, Kids, School, Why Hildie's tired

You guys. YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS!  Last week. It was a killer.  As in “poor me I was a crying, mean zombie by the end of it”.

It was the last week of school. Normally it is a busy week; all the concerts and whatnot.  But this year it soared to heights of awfulness. Not just one but two concerts that were over two hours long. (Hey, school choir/band directors: I don’t want to see two hours of pretty much anything, not even my own children.)

We also were lucky enough to get to attend not just Kindergarten Graduation but also Fifth Grade Graduation. About two months ago I got peeved letters from people on various graduation committees threatening to cancel graduation if there was not more parental help. I tried to let them know by not volunteering that I would be perfectly happy to never go to any sort of graduation ever again. They did not get the message.

Also happening last week: The following items broke at our house: a pitcher from Pottery Barn that I was very fond of; a white ceramic mixing bowl that I was very fond of; a gorgeous apothecary jar that I paid big bucks for back when they were uncommon and you could only find them at fancy shops; and all the ceramic balls inside of said apothecary jar (I was very fond of all of it.) Also broken: our deep freezer which decided to completely defrost as I was walking out the door to Fifth Grade Graduation (only $500 to repair! So I got a new one off of Craig’s List for $200 instead).

There is just something about stuff breaking that makes me feel utterly defeated.

And then there was the realization that I had completely forgotten to do any sort of teacher gift. The kids all had really great teachers this year and I wanted to give them something nice. Normally I sew something but there was no way I had that much stamina this year. So I decided to give them homemade loaves of bread with homemade jam. To me that seems lame but hopefully they thought it was nice. We missed giving goodies to two of our favorite teachers because they left early so I kept two loaves of bread and stuffed my face with it. When I’m emotionally drained I try to fill the emptiness with lots and lots of carbs. And it worked!  I felt so much better!

And then there is the whole Relief Society President thing. It’s very emotionally demanding. Last week was especially hard.  Just a lot of people needing a lot of comfort. And I am not a naturally comfort-giving type. I actually found myself suggesting a new lipstick to one sister. Like that is going to help anything. But hey, it works for me! Never underestimate the power of lipstick.

And lets throw in a couple of recitals, Kung fu exams, a birthday party, and a few church meetings too, just to liven things up.

So you might say I was pleased to not set my alarm on Sunday night. Eight hours of sleep has never felt so good. I was hoping for an entire week but I’ll take what I can get.

When You’re Having a Hard Mother’s Day

May 13, 2012 · 4 comments

in Church, Craziness (hildie's), Feeling Sorry for Myself, Holidays, IMO

Mother’s Day is a difficult day for a lot of people: there are the people who want to be mothers but can’t; the people who have lost their mothers; people who are estranged from their mothers/daughters; mothers who mourn the death of a child; and mothers who feel like they have totally failed at their job. I swear that half the women at church don’t show up on this day. It’s just too raw. Not even to get the plant/cookie/candy bar that the men hand out after church.

Here is my humble suggestion: remember the blessings that you do have. Because there are blessings in your life. Despite some heartbreaks that seems especially bleak on Mother’s Day, there is still reason to be glad. Even if it’s just because there is a new episode of Sherlock on PBS.

In either General Conference or Oprah (pretty much the same thing) the point was made that you can’t feel both depression and gratitude at the same time. The two are mutually exclusive. So let’s all choose gratitude today. Sit down and actively think of the wonderful things in your life.

Or you can do what I do: treat this as a day to make people cater to my whims. It is the day when I can use my female-ness to get people to do my bidding. I have asked York to scrub my very dirty stovetop, had my family to make me brownies, Pecan Honeypots and buy me my favorite ice cream; and had the playroom cleaned. All with a simple, “it’s Mother’s Day; you have to do as I say.”

When you look at it that way, there’s no reason not to adore this holiday!

The Day I Learned that Brunettes are Best

April 12, 2012 · 9 comments

in Feeling Sorry for Myself, Good Things, Hair, IMO, Makeup/Beauty

If you remember the 70s and 80s very well you’ll recall the popularity of The Blonde. Farrah Fawcett, Olivia Newton John, Christie Brinkley, Jessica/Elizabeth from Sweet Valley High, and pretty much every smiling face in Seventeen Magazine was a girl with shiny blonde hair. The brunettes in the media were represented by Joanie on Happy Days or Sabrina on Charlie’s Angels or Janet from Three’s Company; none of whom were particularly pretty or smart or spunky. (Chrissy had flaxen ponytails and short shorts but Janet had a disgusting mullet and boring dresses with pantyhose. So unfair!) All I can guess is that the brunette was supposed to be the “normal” person whose job was to make the blondes look more fantastic.   (Yes, eventually Jaclyn Smith showed up on Charlie’s Angels but by then I had a pre-teen girl crush on Cheryl Ladd.)

Then there was Barbie. I always hoped for a brunette version but Mattel decided that nobody would want to play with a brown-haired doll. I was forever trying to dye my Barbies’ hair (Brown crayola markers do not work well, FYI). Sometimes I would just get sick of those golden inches and I’d chop it all off.

One day I was at the mall waiting for my mom outside of my all-time favorite store, The Canary and The Elephant, which sold a broad assortment of gaudy 80′s plastic jewelry. (My favorite piece was a big silver bracelet with plastic ice cubes hanging from it. I was the belle of 8th grade, take my word for it.)  I had been watching all the blonde girls go by (although this was Michigan. There can’t have been that many. Heaven help me if I’d lived in California or the nation’s capital of blondness: Utah.)

When my mother showed up I wistfully told her how I wished I were blonde. She stopped dead and looked into my eyes. You’d have thought I’d just announced I wanted to pursue a life of prostitution. “You don’t ever want to be blonde.” She said slowly. “Do you have any idea how terrible they look without makeup? So washed out. There is nothing worse than a blonde first thing in the morning.”  She thought for a moment before continuing. “They look like they have no eyelashes and sometimes no eyebrows! A blonde without mascara looks horrible. They aren’t lucky enough to have well-defined eyes like us. No. Be thankful that you were born with brown hair. A striking complexion will win the day every time.”

And with that we walked out the door into the Detroit slush.

Her testimony of the superiority of brunettes stuck with me. It blossomed until I didn’t try to peroxide my hair anymore. I rolled my eyes at the yellow-haired girls on the TV screen. “I know what you really look like,” I said to them. (I was completely unaware that most blonde adults color their hair anyway.)

I love my brown hair. I mean, it’s not as great as red. That’s my dream hair. But it least I can skip the mascara sometimes.

And although I hate Bella from Twilight, I was thrilled to finally find a Barbie that has my coloring.

I Have Sunk to Some Low Depths

April 9, 2012 · 5 comments

in Bad Things, Birthdays (everyone else's), Craziness (hildie's), Embarrassing, Family, Feeling Sorry for Myself, Hair, Holidays, I'm Not So Great, Why Hildie's tired

Over the last week I have had about a quatrillion things going on in my life including volunteering at three schools (which I generally avoid because it pushes me to my limits), all sorts of church meetings, prom dress shopping, drivers license tests requiring two separate trips to the DMV (But I now have a child who is legal to drive! All I have to do is cough up an extra $100 per month for insurance!), book club, track meets, helping Mister make breakfast for the entire ward (homemade waffles with two kinds of homemade syrup), doing all the Easter crap and celebrating Ada’s birthday.

Oh yes, and I spent four hours picking nits out of people’s hair because ALL MY CHILDREN HAVE LICE. (OK, not India. She’s cured).  I also did the treatment where everyone’s hair is doused in olive oil and wrapped in plastic wrap. They must sit like this for three hours. And then everyone has to wash their hair two or three times to get all the oil out. And then nits must be picked. Basically, it was the worst Friday night I’ve ever had in my life. I was done with life by the time I went to bed.

Poor Ada had her birthday the next day. Because I could not get my act together after my long and gruelling week, I did not make a special lunch for her. She picked Chick-Fil-A as her meal of choice (We have started ordering the 64 pack of chicken nuggets for our family. It’s a little surreal).  I also didn’t make a special dinner. Instead I got chips, salsa and creamy jalapeno dip from Chuy’s Tex Mex. Ada doesn’t even like Chuys. But I do.

I did not even make a cake.  I actually took my kids to the cupcake shop and had everyone pick out a cupcake. I can’t get over how loserish I feel about this. Pretty much like the worst/laziest/most selfish mother ever. I simply could not muster up the energy. To my credit, though, I made rainbow cupcakes from scratch for Ada to take to school the day before.

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And then there was Easter.

Something about the Resurrection makes people want to eat pork. Everyone here was so insistent about not wanting ham, though. They’re entirely sick of it, it appears. So I made this instead. Nothing says Easter dinner like bacon.

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I ran another trillion errands today. My kids had a five day weekend and are finally going back to school tomorrow. I love them but they get on my nerves when they’re covered in blood-sucking bugs.  The good news is that the olive oil and high-quality lice comb have worked beautifully so they’re off to school in the morning!

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