Why is it that so many moms seem to have such a better handle on their kids?
I write this as I hear my kids in the other room whining "I want a book!" We had a pretty good day... as far as our days go. We ended our day with a bath, and after that they turned into screaming demons. Don't they say that a bath helps to calm your child down? WTF? I also put new winter bedding on their beds. Something I remember as a child as being so comforting and warm.
I guess it doesn't have the same effect on my boys.
Probably the most frustrating part of motherhood for me is children not listening. Saying the same thing over and over to deaf ears. Raising my voice. Even though I know that doesn't work. How the heck do you get these damn kids to listen? Is there a book out there to teach me?
So in order to relieve some of my stress, as usual, I turn to knitting. I have sort of abandoned the two socks at once for now. I got bored. So today I decided to give Continental Knitting another go.
Why?
I feel drawn to it. It seems to make more sense. It's how my relatives do it. I think it might be meant to be. I have to give it an honest go.
English Knitting fits me well, for now. My movements are smooth and rhythmic, my stitches even. After a year of work on it... it's like crawling into bed after a long day. It's soothing and welcoming and familiar.
So I'll always have that. Even if Continental never works for me... I still have good old English.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Exhaustion: I know you too well
What a week.
Overwhelmed after therapy this past wednesday. It appears as though I may be more fucked up than I though. Which kind of scares me. I've always thought of myself as relatively normal. To find that I need a lot of help to sort through my head amazes me when I think of the people I've come across in my life that are way more messed up than me.
Maybe we're going too deep. Maybe I'm going to come out of this more messed than I was when I started. Is that possible, do you think?
After 7 years of battling terminal cancer and an exhausting last week, Marcel's aunt passed away this morning. I've never before had an opportunity to say goodbye to someone I knew was dying. It's something that I struggle with. Finding the words to say. But I found it too be easier than I though. I'm so glad I did it. Marcel is too.
I watched her on three different occasions at the hospital struggling to breathe. Each time she was having more difficulties. I'm sad to see her go... but so very happy that she isn't struggling anymore.
Farewell, Gisele... take flight, just like a ladybug.
Overwhelmed after therapy this past wednesday. It appears as though I may be more fucked up than I though. Which kind of scares me. I've always thought of myself as relatively normal. To find that I need a lot of help to sort through my head amazes me when I think of the people I've come across in my life that are way more messed up than me.
Maybe we're going too deep. Maybe I'm going to come out of this more messed than I was when I started. Is that possible, do you think?
After 7 years of battling terminal cancer and an exhausting last week, Marcel's aunt passed away this morning. I've never before had an opportunity to say goodbye to someone I knew was dying. It's something that I struggle with. Finding the words to say. But I found it too be easier than I though. I'm so glad I did it. Marcel is too.
I watched her on three different occasions at the hospital struggling to breathe. Each time she was having more difficulties. I'm sad to see her go... but so very happy that she isn't struggling anymore.
Farewell, Gisele... take flight, just like a ladybug.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Here's a thought
Hello Blog.
Ahhh. One session of provincially paid for therapy completed. It went surprisingly well... and given my eagerness (at the moment) to become less fucked up, I find myself looking forward to the next session.
Journalling is a form of therapy, I'm told. And have been encouraged to do it in the past. So here I am, Blog. And you're going to hear a lot about knitting, I think. My other form of therapy.
So, am I nuts to think that I can teach myself how to knit two socks at once? Are these damn strands of yarn going to untangle themselves and suddenly make sense? But who doesn't want to find a way out of "Second Sock Syndrome"? Here I go, once again setting out to conquer another knitting hurdle. I haven't failed yet... so I plan to succeed.
Journalling is a form of therapy, I'm told. And have been encouraged to do it in the past. So here I am, Blog. And you're going to hear a lot about knitting, I think. My other form of therapy.
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