Sandra Tayler

Airpack activity

By / January 9, 2006 / 8 Comments

A friend sent three magnadoodles to my kids for christmas. According to wisdom only known to those in the packing room at Amazon.com instead of packing all three into one huge box, each magnadoodle was packed individually in it’s own huge box with a ream of airpack bubbles. I checked, each of these boxes could have fit FOUR magnadoodles. In the christmas rush I shoved these boxes and their surfeit of packaging to the side and forgot about them. Today my Gleek discovered them and there was glee.

Gleek carefully ripped each bubble pack from the others and strewed them all over the family room. Then she and Patches stomped on these little plastic pillows to make them pop. They weren’t very good at it and they aren’t very heavy, so often the airpack pillow would squirt out from under their feet and they’d land on their bottoms. giggles. Then they took to popping the airpacks with plastic pickup stick swords. giggles. Then they piled all the non-flat airpack pillows into one of the huge boxes and played “baby.” I would never let a child sleep in a box full of plastic bags, but they thought it was great. even more giggles. In all they played with the airpack pillows for a full 90 minutes.

You know right on those airpack things it clearly states “This is not a toy.” I suppose I could be considered an awful mother for allowing my kids to play with them. But, honestly, they are in more danger in the bathtub than they are playing with airpack pillows. I don’t let them bathe unsupervised and I don’t let them play with airpacks unsupervised either. And in both cases once the play is done the potentially dangerous item (water or plastic bags) is quickly disposed of.

Toward the end of the play NotMyBaby woke up from his nap. NMB is in that stage where he chews on everything. Plastic bags are definitely unsafe to chew, so NMB never even got his hands on one. I took scissors, popped all the remaining inflated ones and pitched them all into the recycling bin. The box got to stick around and be played with.

The Frugal Pantry

By / January 7, 2006 / 3 Comments

More than once I’ve been asked for tips on how to cut grocery spending. Since that is becoming a frequently asked question I am now creating this entry so that the next time I’m asked it, I can just point the asker here. In fact I’m starting to use the “tag” feature to create a trail of entries on “Frugal Living” If you want to read all the entries, just click the “Frugal Living” link at the end of this entry and you’ll get a list of all the entries I deem to be related to that topic.

Let me say right here, that I’m still learning this whole frugal living stuff. When Howard still worked at Novell our children lived off of storebought chicken nuggets and chimichangas. We ate take out food almost daily in some form or another. I am not trying to set myself up as an Expert or Guru or anything else holier-than-thou. I’m just excited about the topic of saving money on household expenses and I’d like to share some of the stuff that I’ve learned. …

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Popsicles

By / January 6, 2006 / 5 Comments

I’m always so glad when my kids are nice to each other. This afternoon they ran around outside wearing shorts and eating popsicles while playing a game and watching a hot air balloon. I live in Utah, this is January, the weather outside is about 45 degrees and gray. My children are nuts. But they had fun right up until the point that they realized they were COLD. At that point Gleek tried to come and leech heat from me by climbing into my lap. But she wouldn’t relinquish the popsicle, not a chance.

The popsicles were an experimental mix of tang and milk frozen into “sip & lick” popsicle molds. These molds are special because the “lid” of the mold forms not only the stick for the popsicle, but a little cup to catch the drips. The cup includes a little straw for slurping the melted liquid. I took one look at them and pictured children blowing melted popsicle fluids into huge sticky bubbles. Gleek looked at them and saw pure joy. They were at a thrift store, Gleek spent her own money and they came home with us. Last night the kids were checking the freezer every 10 minutes to see if the popsicles were done yet. The tang + milk was really yummy in frozen form, but as it melted it separated into orange curds and clear whey which was pretty yucky. Fortunately the kids ate them so fast that I only knew about the separation from the sticky little drips that Patches left all over the house. Well, I could have done without the sticky drips, but I got them all wiped up. I think.

Unpacking

By / January 6, 2006 / 10 Comments

I have a personal theory about Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I believe the brain replays traumatic/adrenaline surged events in order to learn how not to do that again, whatever that may be. The fastest way for a person to end this kind of playback is to examine “that” and plan alternate courses of action to prevent it. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder occurs when a person feels powerless to affect the cause of the trauma. The playback is endless because no matter how many times the event is played back no pathway is found to prevent it from ever happening again. “Playback” may be as vivid as a full sensory flashback, or as mild as a feeling of fear or depression when similar circumstances are encountered. By this point in my post I’ve probably played merry hell with proper psychological terminology, I don’t much care. I’m trying to explain to myself what has been happening in my head for the past 7 years.

Seven years ago I underwent 7 weeks of radiation therapy to eradicate a tumor under my chin. It was a miserable experience. The tumor had been surgically removed, regrown, and removed again. It looked like the only way to prevent a cyclical repeat of regrowth and surgery was to radiate it until it was dead and I wasn’t. The therapy began at the end of January 1999 and ended in the middle of March. My mom had to come at stay with us for the last three weeks because I couldn’t keep things together. As soon as the therapy was over I shut the door on that part of my life. I was so desperate to be done with it and never go there again that I didn’t even want to think about it. I believe the proper psychological term for that is denial or maybe avoidance.

In the past 7 years I’ve always thought of radiation as something that was over. I’m done with that, so I don’t need to think about it. Only I’m not done with it. The experience was long enough and unpleasant enough that it set up a whole raft of associations in my brain that affect my moods and thinking. Howard tells me that every January/February he observes a noticable downtick in my moods. As soon as the holidays are over I start longing for spring because in 1999 spring coincided with the end of radiation therapy. I love crocus because they are a sign that the Bad Time is over. Last year I didn’t have a “downtick” during the winter. I remember thinking about it and feeling like I’d finally put behind me the last lingering emotional effects of the radiation therapy. I was wrong, this year all the associations are back with a vengence. Apparently I can’t just “put it behind me,” I need to face it and examine it. Not really something I want to do.

So I guess it is time for me to end the avoidance or denial or whatever you want to call it. I need to do some writing to take a clear look at what I went through and how I feel about it, because I packed the experience away so quickly I’m sure there are unresolved threads there. It’s been packed away for so many years that the memories are sure to be moth eaten and wrinkly, so anybody who was around me back then is welcome to add input or corrections as they see fit. This process will probably take several entries, I’ll try to put them behind cuts so that if anyone else wants to avoid this plunge into my worst winter, they can. To be honest I have very mixed feelings about putting this in livejournal at all. Part of me is afraid that it’ll look like I’m asking for pity or sympathy. This is the same part that is always reluctant to ask for help even when it is obviously needed. Also this is a very personal delving into my psyche and a life-altering experience, do I really want that hanging out in a public place? On the other hand I would love it if my experiences could be of some help to someone else. It would be nice to be able to feel like there was a point to this miserable experience. Also I’ll be able to sort my brain better if other people are around to comment and help me make connections that I’m missing. And there is also that whole avoidance thing. I’ve begun a couple of times to write about radiation, but without someone else involved I get about a half page done and quit. Livejournal is more like telling other people than like talking to myself.

So I’m going to take a middle approach. Everyone on my friend’s list will be able to read these entries because I already trust all of you to be kind and considerate. If any of you know someone who might be helped by anything I share, feel free to pass it on, or put them in touch with me, but do not post it in a public place. I may in the future decide to make all of this public information, but I’m not ready to do that yet. If you have thoughts for or against making this public, I’d be interested in hearing them, but I don’t promise to follow your advice. There will be more than one entry on this as I refine my thinking and sort my thoughts. I’m not sure how many entries this will come to, hopefully not too many. I don’t want anyone to get bored and I’d like to sort quickly. Of course that desire to “sort quickly” is a reflection of my desire to be done with it. Sigh. I definitely need to unpack this box.

January impending

By / January 4, 2006 / 3 Comments

Today was much better. I always forget that the first day of a new schedule is always exhausting and draining for me. I have to think and rethink every step of the day to make sure I get it right. By the second day I’ve internalized some of the steps and things are much smoother. I’m still tired, but this evening isn’t bleak the way that last night was.

January and February are the long dark teatime of the year. The space of time between Christmas and the first crocus blooming always seems to be a long slog. I don’t mind winter if it snows, but cold/gray/wet gets me down after awhile. Around here the first crocus blooms sometime in the second half of February. Having crocus bloom doesn’t make the weather any warmer, but it is a promise of good things to come. I love crocus. It is a sign of the end of dark times.

Of course right now it is the beginning of January and the long slog is still ahead of me. That is part of what had me stressed/depressed last night. It was bad enough managing conflict filled homework times in October/November/December, I couldn’t see how I’d manage it in January/February. The good news is that after the Christmas break kids seem to settle into their school routines. Everyone knows what to expect and they’re more content. I’m really really hoping for that. I saw a glimpse of it tonight.

This afternoon I caught myself looking out my back window and examining trees for signs of budding. More evidence that my longing for spring begins as soon as New Years is over. I never used to feel this way about winter until I had a very unpleasant one 7 years ago. Anniversaries matter even if we don’t consciously remember them. That one winter was sufficiently unpleasant that it has rippled negative associations through all the years that followed. Some winters are harder than others. I confess to anxiety about this one for the reasons I’ve already mentioned.

Foreshadowing is a fine literary technique. It doesn’t work as well in real life. Right now my brain is trying to foreshadow. It is throwing shadows foreward into the month ahead when perhaps no shadows need to be there at all. I can’t really hope for warm, so instead I’m going to hope for snow. Lots and lots of bright snow to enliven the winter days.

By / January 3, 2006 / 6 Comments

At 1 pm I was having a really good day. Not much since then is cause for joy. There was crankiness, overtiredness, tantrums, yelling, tears, and all that’s just from me. I am tired and burdened with vivid memories of how I failed my children today. They needed me to be more, better, different. I tried, I really did. I worked hard right up until I snapped, then I’d calm down and try again. Repeat cycle.

I need to find my happy thoughts. I’ve forgotten how to fly.

Perspectives

By / January 3, 2006

This morning I was so glad to send my kids back to school. After two weeks of vacation where we were all trapped indoors by rain, I was ready for them to go.

Now it is afternoon and they’re back home. Homework time is looming near and I’m suddenly remembering why only two weeks ago I was eagerly anticipating a break from school.

This has been a very rough school year so far. I’m hoping the second half gets easier than the first was.