Yesterday my little sister Hannah noticed some scribble on my left hand and asked me what it meant.

“Instant potatoes?” She said, squinting at my hand.

“Instant potato.” I corrected.

“Why do you have that written on your hand?” She asked curiously.

“Because Hannah. It’s something to remind me. Okay, listen, if you want something in life it’s best to put in the work and get the real thing, do you know what I’m saying?”

“No.”

“Well, let’s say you want some mashed potatoes. You can be lazy and and buy instant mashed potatoes and you’ll have your mashed potatoes quickly -”

“But they’re disgusting.” Hannah finished.

“Right. But if you put in the work, get real ingredients, peel potatoes, boil them, mash them, and mix it all up, it’s a lot of work but in the end you get a delicious batch of mashed potatoes. You get the real thing.”

“Yeah…” Hannah said thoughtfully.

“So I wrote this on my hand to remind myself to put in the work because I want the real thing in my life. Don’t be an instant potato, Hannah.” I said in closing.

“Yeah, Okay.”

Hannah seemed satisfied and smiled at me and I just couldn’t keep a straight face anymore.

“I’m totally screwing with you Hannah. I wrote this on my hand so I wouldn’t forget to buy a box of instant potatoes while I was out. A girl’s gotta eat!”

Also:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I’d like to study if I go back to school and checking out different colleges and the programs they offer. Today I came across a personality test supposedly designed to help point me down a career path that suits my character and as soon as I started filling it out I realized something startling.

Well, at first I was just a little confused. For example:

Which is more of a compliment:
a. “There’s a sentimental person”
b. “There’s a logical person”

Do you prize in yourself
a. a vivid imagination
b. a strong hold on reality

My answer to the first question was “B” and my answer to the second was “A”. A logical person with a vivid imagination. It seemed a lot of my answers were an odd mix like that. I guess I can see how that could happen.

But as the little test went on it started to unsettle me a little because I found that I didn’t know how to answer the questions.

Do you tend to choose
a. somewhat impulsively
b. rather carefully

I’m still not sure how to answer the above question. When I decide to buy something, or when I decide anything really, the decision usually happens very quickly, but I do give careful thought to the matter. My thought process is just very fast. I don’t fuss and flip flop, either I do or I don’t want something and I decide. Sometimes I give more thought, sometimes less.

Which seems the greater fault
a. to be too compassionate
b. to be too dispassionate

This one nearly had me pulling my hair out! When I was younger I always placed much value on being compassionate but now, though I still sympathize with others, I’ve got more a ruthless streak in me. I’m more guarded and fiercely set on looking out for me and my own. Maybe it’s a mama bear thing. I don’t know. I used to want to do volunteer work. Now…

I don’t know who the hell I am.

Am I compassionate or dispassionate? Logical or sentimental? Friendly or impersonal? Soft-hearted or hard-assed? At this point I really don’t know. Aren’t I supposed to have this figured out by now? I still don’t know what I want to be when I “grow up” and I don’t know who I am. Perhaps I’m just confused by who I am and who I want to be. Maybe I’m getting the two confused. They always have been tangled up, I think.

I hope that one day they can be the same person.

The other day, while digging through my closet looking for a CD, I found a disc that had “Writing, 1-31-06″ written on it. It contained a document with the title Fragments, which contained random bits I’d written for several different stories, and two other larger documents entitled God and Friends and The Rebel Prince.

I was completely blown away by the writing. Not because it was particularly good or anything, but because of my obvious passion for the characters and the stories. Neither story is near finished but the word count has them somewhere in the realm of Novelette. Reading back through the pages I once again fell in love with my characters. It’s interesting to note that the main character in The Rebel Prince is named Remiel and one of the main characters in God and Friends, and definitely my favorite character, is named Tristan. My children.

I want to write again. Now that I’m older and have more life experience I feel that I could really improve on what I’ve already written. For example, in the The Rebel Prince, I wrote a lot about the relationship between Remiel and his mother but now that I’m a mother myself I feel that I could write about their relationship in a completely different way. I can now see more through the mother’s eyes.

And yet…

Even just the idea of rewriting all those pages exhausts me. I’ve tried to get myself to write a little every day, just simple creative exercises, but I find myself just staring blankly at an empty document until duty calls me back into the real world.

It seems like I’m only creative in little spurts these days. Or on accident, such as was the case a few days ago when when I frantically tried to braid my hair back out of my face and ended up with an adorable hairstyle that I probably wont be able to replicate again.

It makes me terribly frustrated. Is it the anti-depressants? Do people just grow less creative as they get older? Or have my children just drained it all out of me?

I really do feel that I have lost touch with that part of me. I want it back. All of it. The music, the color, and the poetry. I don’t know how to get it back, though. I guess I’ll have to start small. Draw more. Just sketches. Maybe one day I’ll paint again. I’ve been writing little bits of poetry on my blog but that’s all I can seem to manage, besides blog entries, as far as writing goes. Does Play Doh count? I make a mean Play Doh sculpture.

I’d show you but Tristan usually smashes them.

So it goes.

I’ve been under a great deal of stress lately. Everything will fall into place, I’m sure, but worry keeps me up at night and I spend my groggy days fighting migraines caused by sleep deprivation. My breakfast (and lunch) of choice for too long has been coffee and Tylenol. It’s no wonder my weight has plummeted. I’m taking steps to remedy that situation, though, and hoping that more frequent meals will give me more energy.

I don’t like winter. Fall had me giddy with its vibrant colors and cool breezes but now everything is dead and brown and cold. I’m not sure if I can completely blame the weather for my current blue mood but it certainly isn’t helping.

Sometimes I try to cry but nothing comes out.

I tell myself it’s because I’m strong.

Then I realize it’s because I need to believe that I’m strong.

Uncried tears must poison me.

The antidote to dark, cold winter is sunshine. My sunshine comes in the form of two devilishly cute little boys, of course. My new favorite thing is turning on the baby monitor right after I put them both to bed and listening to them “talk” to each other and laugh hysterically amidst a pattering of unidentifiable thumps and bangs. In the morning I find toys in Remi’s crib that Tristan must have given him in the night.

I’ve started cooking more. Baking my own healthier version of chicken nuggets for the boys and other such delicious things. Yesterday I baked a spinach and feta quiche and when I’m done eating it I’m going to make a tomato and ricotta quiche. Hell of a lot better than frozen dinners, that’s for sure, but a lot more work.

Kostyantyn came to visit the boys over the holidays. Remi didn’t seem to care that he was here and went about his business, grumbling and playing, but Tristan was ecstatic. He had a blast those first few days but, just as I knew it would, his behavior took a nosedive after spending so much time with his father.

The same old problems. Kostya treats him like a little baby and so Tristan acts like a little baby, throwing horrendous tantrums, refusing to eat, and even undoing all our hard work with potty training. Absolute chaos. Kostya still thinks that throwing discipline out the window will make Tristan love him more but I tried to explain to him that it was just allowing Tristan to act out and walk all over him. It was such a relief when Kostya went back home to New York! Tristan is slowly going back to normal, but I really wish Kostya was more concerned with cultivating good behavior in his children.

I guess I’m alone on that one. That’s okay, alone can be quite nice.

I thoughtlessly bat away
his verbal kisses
as fast as he can
dole them
out.
My poker face binds him
in uncertainty
as much as his tells
forewarn
me.

It was raining when he left.
Fitting, he thought,
all misty eyed and
tenderly
sad.
Irrelevant, I thought,
the condensation
of water vapor
in the
atmosphere.

I once fainted,
belly full of pills and wind chimes
ringing in my ears,
onto the cushions where our lodger slept.
Sometimes I still hear them,
those jangling chimes,
when I run too fast
after my fleeing imp-children.

I’ve been hijacked,
by men and by demons all covered
with a dusting of snow,
only to come home a half-version of myself.
It still chokes me,
the remembered feel of a gun
against my head,
when I should be awash in sweet dreams.

I used to drown,
fermenting in a rancid goulash of
decaying daydreams,
my feet sinking into wet salty sand.
Nowadays I stumble,
stepping on army men while I drink in
the sight of my cubs,
and it unsettles me that I should still feel thirst…

Christmas was wonderful. Remiel didn’t care at all about presents but Tristan was absolutely ecstatic and loved his treasure chest, DVD’s, and Volcano presents. The boys father bought them a wagon and I got a good workout pulling them around the yard, and then up and down the street in it.

I spent the end of 2011, and the beginning of 2012, tossing and turning in bed. I could not for the life of me fall asleep. Earlier in the evening I’d gone to the movies and out to eat with my sisters, something I haven’t done since I can’t remember when. It was a nice end to the year, tossing and turning aside, and I’d like to do it again some time.

I have no resolutions. At this point I can’t say that I really have any plans.

In 2011 I moved twice. I got my drivers permit, but not my license. I suffered through a lot of very stressful family drama that left me heartbroken and drained. I got into the swing of things, learning how to parent two children instead of one, and delighted in getting to know my charming little Remiel.

I’m not sorry to see 2011 go, despite the many fond memories.

I have no resolutions. Just hopes for 2012.

Christmas before I had children was very different. Once I grew up I found that I liked giving presents much more than receiving them and my favorite part of the holidays was finding thoughtful gifts that my family would enjoy. Now that I have children I find that I focus all my energy, and money, on my children and don’t have much left over for anybody else.

This bothers me a little but, then again, I think most of us seem to positively wallow in materialism these days. Seriously, how many toys do these kids really need?

I ask myself that after packing up a huge box of toys that the boys don’t play with anymore, after throwing away so many broken toys and giving away just as many others.

We have so much.

It’s funny that I say that. Some people might not agree with me. I don’t have a shiny new car. I’ve never been on a vacation to a tropical location. Actually, I’ve never really been on much of an adult vacation EVER. I have a passport but I’ve never used it. If I want something nice for myself, a piece of jewelry or some new clothes I’ve got to save up for it, usually for months. I’m usually flat broke at the end of every month, and occasionally dip into the negative when we have a bad month. I can’t afford to eat out very often. I had to leave NYC, the city I love, because I couldn’t afford the high cost of living there.

Still, we have so much.

Every day I look around me and I’m so grateful for what I have. I have two beautiful children. That alone could make me feel incredibly wealthy, but to be able to provide for them as I do makes me so happy. They have a cozy, clean little place to call home. They always have food and clean clothes. My budget is arranged so that the boys never go without. Once I’ve paid all the bills (a wonderful feeling, by the way) I have the pleasure of buying nice things for them. And paying for Cable!

And we are happy and warm and safe here in our little home.

Not everyone can say that, and I think too many people forget that there are people out there who are not happy or warm or safe.

I don’t forget, and this Christmas I’m grateful to be able to give my boys, if not a mountain of presents, then at least a small hill of thoughtful heartfelt gifts. Of course, I’ll always wish I had more to give…

Lately I’ve been trying to eat healthier. I haven’t been trying very hard, of course. I like a greasy breakfast and candy bars after lunch. Actually, I guess my biggest concern lately has been feeding the boys healthier foods.

Food has always been a struggle with Tristan. Saying the boy is picky just doesn’t do it justice. Sometimes his absolute refusal to eat any “real” foods sends me into a panic. I’ve gotten better at dealing with these difficult phases he goes through and have figured out a few tricks.

For example, though the little weirdo wont touch glorious foods like hamburgers and chili he has crazy love for broccoli. So I set out to find healthy recipes using this ingredient and found a clever idea for Broccoli and Cheddar Cheese Nuggets on this website. Tristan loves those awful but easy to make frozen chicken nuggets but if I prepare the broccoli and cheese nuggets ahead of time they are just as easy and when I pair them with some baked sweet potato fries Tristan is in heaven.

I need more ideas, though. And I need Tristan to branch out a little. He is not open to new flavors and is very sensitive to the taste and especially the textures of the foods he eats.

Remi, on the other, is an awesome little eater! Thank god. I do so love a hearty appetite! Remi will be the one chowing down on burgers with me and trying out my new recipes with all the enthusiasm of a hungry young boy. I hope! So far, so good.

There will be days when I’m too sick or exhausted to cook anything more complicated than frozen waffles or Bagel Bites, but it feels good to put more thought into the boys diet.

I wonder if they’ll eat quiche… I make a damn fine quiche.

It is very dull here.

I feel so lethargic lately. Sleepy. I could just daydream the whole day away, every day. Slip in and out of consciousness until one of the boys insists on dragging me back into reality, not so such much kicking and screaming as flopping, fish-like, and whimpering like a pup.

Maybe it’s all the rain we’ve had lately. I hate rain. Cold, wet, dark, ugly outside. I need sunshine, even if it’s just coming through the cracks in the blinds. I need to know that it’s there waiting for me should I decide to venture out and turn my face upward. That warmth and light.

Maybe I’m making excuses.

The more complex my thought process the more likely I am to get lost in its little twists and turns. Then I reach a realization that shocks me. Did I always know this about myself? Does being aware of this information really change anything (or just give me a temporary tummy ache)? And how long until this hard fought for bit of truth slips out of my hand and sinks back into the deep?

The easy answer is: Who fucking cares.

Yes, I like this answer.