Domestic Psychology

my third boob

// February 5th, 2010 // 4 Comments » // health, me

Remember when I demonstrated my special sense of coordination at the end of December? I pretty much avoided touching my bruised knees for a week or so and then I completely forgot about them after I burned my face with a flattening iron. A few weeks ago, my left knee felt hot and when I rubbed it, it felt . . . odd. It felt like my knee had a breast implant. Well, I’ve never actually touched an artificial breast, but I’m pretty sure that it would feel something like my knee felt.

I did what I usually do when I have a boo-boo. I waited for it to go away on its’ own. Unfortunately, instead of shrinking, my knee boob ached and the lump that was still visible through my jeans made the dreaded panty line seem desirable. On a less vain note, the knee boob made kneeling excruciatingly painful and this caused the twice daily Lego/Playmobile disaster cleanup to take much longer than it should have taken. Eventually, I showed Doug my knee boob and after gagging, he made a doctor appointment for me.

I prepared for the appointment by digging a dust covered skirt out of the closet in an effort to avoid the need to disrobe at the doctor’s office. I enjoyed the dry humor of my doctor and his nurse’s seemingly unwitting role as the straight man for his jokes. I tweeted nervously while they noisily prepared for their highly scientific plan to “drain it and see what’s in there.” I didn’t make a sound when the doctor numbed my knee with super unpleasant needle sticks. I made casual small talk as the doctor readied the syringe with a needle the size of a coffee stirrer. As the words “expect clear liquid” left his lips and blood filled the turkey baster, I sat calmly.

I was the poster child for good patient until the doctor’s soothing voice explaining the inner workings of my knee started to bounce about my head like a moth in a ceiling light. At the same time that I found myself unable to focus on his words, I felt the room spinning and had to instantly decide if I should ignore the symptoms of what was coming next and risk falling off the exam table or announce my weeny-hood. I chose the latter. The doctor acted like he’d lost a bet. “I would have seen it coming if you weren’t wearing lipstick.” I leaned back as the doctor and nurse grabbed my ankles and hoisted them up in the air. At that moment, my clever skirt plan failed me completely. I was walked out of the exam room by a tiny nurse and handed to a husband just like every other 70-year-old in the building.

I started my day with three boobs and ended it as a senior citizen.

making a good impression

// December 18th, 2009 // No Comments » // me, people

I recently ran into someone I hadn’t seen in some time and he introduced his new wife just before saying, “The last time I saw you, you were breastfeeding your youngest daughter.” His wife then added, “Oh, did you have one of those cute nursing covers?” The CORRECT response would have been, “I was a very talented breastfeeder who could be discreet without accessories.” My response was, “No. I was a militant lactivist who fed my babies whenever and wherever they needed it.”

Did I mention that I don’t get out much?

I don’t get out much

// December 13th, 2009 // 5 Comments » // me, people

“I’d like you to meet H. He’s a handsome recording artist from a multi-generational family of talented musicians who has the people on your iPod on his speed dial. This is Cathy. She has five children.”

“Have you met G? He’s the head of a University department who has been in popular magazines for his amazing research. He has recently discovered that a species of local wildlife is several steps behind the evolutionary development of its’ species on other continents. G, this is Cathy. She has five children.”

“This is C. He’s a spiritual teacher and well-respected hospice guide for families at important crossroads in their journey. He is here with his wife. She is an internationally trained Shaman who is on a first name basis with Buddha. Aaand this is Cathy. She has five children.”

“G is a highly respected politician who is legislating world peace and those three are engineers who are collaborating on a brand new technology and she is the owner of a successful local business and this is Cathy. She has five children.”

I do get to meet amazing people. And I have five children.

old AND fat

// November 24th, 2009 // No Comments » // Doug, kid quotes, me

Noah: “It’s older than YOU? Wow! That’s really old.”
Doug: “You know that drink you like so much? They make a low calorie version that you really need to try.”

I will be sleeping in a tent in the backyard from now on. I hope the wireless is accessible from there.

Doug says:

// October 22nd, 2009 // No Comments » // Doug, me, movies

Me: “You remember wonderinging where they filmed when we were watching The Holy Grail?”
Doug: “The Holy Grail? I remember wondering where something was filmed, but I don’t remember what it was.”
Me: “It was Holy Grail. You asked where they filmed it.”
Doug: “Noooo. I think it was Planet of the Apes.”
Me: “Are you sure? I thought you asked where Holy Grail was filmed.”
Doug: “Nope. It was definitely Planet of the Apes.”
Me: <- sigh ->
Doug: “Go ahead and tell me. You know you have to say it.”
Me: “No. It doesn’t matter now.”
Doug: “Come on. Let it out.”
Me: “Scotland. And they used the same castle for every location.”
Doug: “Feel better now?”
Me: “No. I have to look up Marky Mark AND Charlton Heston.”

sock paranoia

// October 4th, 2009 // 1 Comment » // me

One of the many pleasures of crisp fall weather is the return of socks. I love fuzzy, funny socks. Socks are like a secret joke that make your toes giggle. Happy toes make me feel relaxed and mellow. Socks are a good thing. After months of neglect, today the socks came out to entertain my feet. All day, I slid on the wood floors like a child. As my brain started getting fuzzy and I lost the motivation to do anything but my imitation of a sloth, I fixed a drink, loaded my arms with clean clothes that needed to go to our bedroom closet and began the trek downstairs.

I made one step onto the stairs before I remembered that sock feet on our steps are extra slippery. When they are MY uncoordinated, klutzy sock feet on stairs, there is guaranteed hilarity. I fall down the stairs about once a year. Usually, it only hurts my pride. This time I was holding a red drink. The noise from my big fanny falling down the stairs would make enough noise to wake everyone. I think the site of me crumpled at the foot of the stairs with red liquid splashed everywhere would be slightly upsetting to a few of the children. Despite the huge laugh it would give Doug, I walked down the stairs more carefully than any other human has ever stepped. My next pratfall will have to come when the children are all at school.

need more caffeine

// October 1st, 2009 // 1 Comment » // me, school

I arrived at the school for my parent/teacher meeting. As I walked in the building, I saw the teacher taking down a decorative display in the lobby. I waited until all the teachers were finished discussing a new display before assisting with the clean-up. We carried everything back to the classroom and I waited for the teacher to begin discussing my child. I stood silently and stared at the teacher. The teacher tilted her head slightly and asked if I needed help with something. “Don’t we have a meeting today?” In my mind, I began questioning if I had gotten our meeting date wrong. The teacher looked like she couldn’t decide between laughing out loud and hugging me. “I was your child’s teacher LAST year.”

talking to myself

// September 23rd, 2009 // No Comments » // Doug, marriage, me

Me: “The cat has a chipmunk in her mouth.”
Doug: “What?”
Me: “The cat has a chipmunk in her mouth.”
Doug: “Where?”
Me: “In the front yard.”
Doug: “Why is Tommy chasing the cat?”
Me: “He’s trying to get her to drop the chipmunk.”
Doug walks outside and I go in the bathroom to scrape toothpaste off the bathroom mirror.

Five minutes later, Doug sends a text message to my cell phone:
“The cat is hunting a chipmunk.”

step off the paved path

// September 6th, 2009 // No Comments » // TN, me

“My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing.” Aldous Huxley

I am not amused by this particular silly season. I stomp around the house grumbling about news, politics and people. I am acutely aware of the weeks that have passed without time alone with my best friend. I allow others to hurt my feelings and make me cry like . . . a girl. I shouldn’t feel this weary. It has only been a few days since my day in the mountains. I have mentioned my love for mountains numerous times on this blog. The mountains have never failed me. I feel recharged and unburdened after a trip to the mountains. I should still be high on the inner peace that the mountains offer to visitors.

Staring at the rain, I realized that although I spent the day at Newfound Gap, I never left the pavement. I saw, but did not touch. I failed to step on to the soil, to touch the tender petals and to sit on a rock that is older than time. In my own defense, I felt like the National Park employees were transformed from their usual ‘get out there and enjoy nature’ personalities into yardstick wielding nuns. “You can’t stand here.” The day was great, but it was a trip to the mountains that was unlike any other. The next time we venture into the Smokies, I think I’d like a few dozen less politicians and their security requirements . That trip needs to be soon. Maybe then, I’ll be able to laugh at the silly season.

Mommy Blogger

// July 26th, 2009 // No Comments » // blogging, blogher, me

I ignored the brouhaha the year the women at BlogHer argued over being “just” a Mommy blogger. I am a Mommy and I blog. I have been doing this for a decade now. I’m not embarrassed. I shrugged about the arguments over PR blackouts. If you’re tired of doing product reviews, don’t do them. We need all kinds of blogs and review blogs are just one of them. If you are paid to write posts, it’s an advertisement. Write what you want. Read what you want. It’s all good.

I thought the Motrin ads were funny. I wasn’t offended, but I watched the Twitter mob gathering torches and pitchforks. Entertaining? Maybe in a train wreck sort of way. It should have been educational for anyone who doesn’t think their brand needs to be interacting with consumers. I like to think that kind of energy can be channeled to do good. I know that social media has helped me.

It looks like this year’s topics of introspection are cocktail parties and swag. The posts coming out of BlogHer so far include:
Not all bloggers are like that
In Which I Pi** Off Lots of People and Do Not Care

The swag behavior is childish and may or may not have been exaggerated by the enormous crowd of people that attend BlogHer. From the descriptions I’m hearing, it sounds like the day after Thanksgiving sales. Event sponsors brought swag that was far better than the pencils I get excited about at Knoxville’s First Day Festival. I drooled at the pictures of what women were getting in their goody bags. I could have filled the children’s stockings with all those trinkets. Everyone just got caught up in all the excitement of BlogHer. Maybe crowd control will reduce some of the problem. Maybe lobby tickets were a mistake. Most likely, women will have higher expectations for themselves and others in the future. I believe in women enough to know it will not be a problem next year.

Then, there is the desire to band together and protect any fellow blogger who has been wronged. This is one of the good things about who we are. Please don’t make it into an us vs them. Don’t get mad at Nikon. We should all be lucky enough to have one of their cameras. Don’t get mad at babies. Tiny babies are completely portable and when they are with their personal feeding/soothing device, there is no wailing or destruction. It’s only when they get mobile that they damage property. We can support each other without having to make someone a bad guy.

I don’t want to call myself some politically correct thing like “woman who blogs” or “online diarist” or whatever name people are going to create out of this. I am a Mom. I blog. If someone asks me to review a product that fits in my life, I will do so if there are no strings attached. I would rather write about my life, my family and whatever interests me. I will not do paid posts, but I wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to see behind the scenes of where my food comes from or have a conversation with elected officials. I write about focused topics on other sites. I’m not paid for what I write over there either. I write e-mails to politicians. That doesn’t make me a lobbyist. It all falls under the giant umbrella of being a mom who has ideas, opinions and a life that she likes to write about. There are lots of Mommy bloggers who are not like that. There are lots of us who haven’t stopped telling our stories. We don’t need a new label. We just need to remember who we really are.