March 22nd, 2015 | 1 Comment »


I’ve been struggling with anxiety over the milestone looming on my horizon.  It’s taken many forms, and has been mostly low grade, but mounting.  I thought for a moment that with such a milestone I should do something memorable or have something memorable to show for it.  I don’t know.  The last time I bought myself something ridiculously expensive as a milestone memento, it was stolen.   Not that that will completely take the wind out of the sails for any future extravagances, but it does leave some tarnish on the idea.  Anyway.  I have been feeling like I should go somewhere special, or buy something special, or do something special.  But I’m at such a loss.  I haven’t had any time to make any plans, as far as the notion of a getaway goes.  Where would I go, and what would I do?  Logistics.  God knows I need a break (ummm, I did just take a week and cruise to Mexico with my kids and all told, fifteen family members, and it was so wonderful to spend time with family, and it was so wonderful to feel and breathe warm ocean air and hear the sound of waves lapping against the boat, hour upon hour upon hour, and  yes, that was amazing, but of course I will throw in a but…   ….but in order to take any time off I have to complete all the work that I would have to do for the week that I’m away, which means, really, no break from work at all…  whine, whine, whine) and a rest and I don’t know what.  I need something.  I’ve been struggling with the changing tides of my work for some time now.  There’s little to no respite on the immediate horizon, as far as that goes.  Some of the bigger projects will work themselves out in the next few months.  Or rather, I have to finish them, and they will be a thing of the past, after which I might be able to steer myself toward a more manageable workload.  The immediate forecast is bleak, and there is so much pressure, beyond that which I place upon myself.  I am famous for demanding great expectations of myself, so this present workload predicament is taking its toll.  Blah, blah, blah.  I am so weary of complaints.  My own.  My kids’.  Anybody’s.  I have almost no threshold remaining.  I’ve been uncharacteristically irritable, off and on.  Weary.  I know that if I could somehow get enough rest, I’d be FINE.

Almost 29 years of indentured servitude, little to no sunlight, and countless hours of commuting are taking their toll...

Anyway.  I’m not one for pomp and circumstance.  I don’t want a party, and GOD FORBID, a surprise party.  I don’t want to be the center of attention.  I don’t want lavish gifts.  I don’t know what I want for that day.  The kids have visitation with their dad that weekend, and they are oblivious to life events, milestones, and things of that nature.  I suppose that’s my fault, since I haven’t actually taught them to be aware of such things.  I wouldn’t mind doing something special with my sisters, but we are out of time for planning any sort of get together.  Logistics again.  The sweetest thing I can imagine is having a nice meal with my loved ones.  And so it is settled.  My friend will prepare a lovely meal, and we will hang out as a sweet circle of three –my friend, my honey,and I–for the evening, in the comfort of my home.  Simple.  Sweet.  Perfect.  That is all I want.  Bliss.

I hope the 50s are the new 40s, because the 40s were mostly all right...

And as for turning fifty?  I am having a hard time wrapping my head around that number.  It seems like it’s a number that represents something that I just can’t quite put my finger on.   Age?  As if I was supposed to have accomplished something remarkable by now?  Or I should be at some other, more arrived, state of self by now?  Shouldn’t I have life figured out by now?  Shouldn’t I know how to handle stress?  Shouldn’t I know how to manage my children?  Shouldn’t I be cool, calm, and collected?  Well, externally I am all of those.  Internally?  I’m cool, I suppose.  Or maybe tepid.  I’m calm.  I’m collected in a scattered way.  I’m just weary.  Worn.  I went through my list of Facebook friends and pared it down to mostly family.  I could have just shut it completely down, but I do like seeing pictures of my family.  I am actually pleasantly surprised at the feeling of liberation that this small task accomplished.  Inability to keep up with the news feed has been frustrating, and I don’t need any additional source of frustration in my life.

I don't think I wanna be FIFTY. I'm not ready for this!

What would I have imagined for myself by this stage of life?  Happily married?  Kids healthy, grown, and making their own way in life?  Comfortably situated in some career?  Maybe those are all just projections from my early adulthood.  Time has marched on and things are as they are.  My life is not all those things, but my life is beautiful!

Looks like trouble! I still have some oomph left in me...

I don’t feel as though I’m emotionally ready to be fifty.  I feel as though I am only just now getting my momentum, only just now settling in to simply living.  I feel as though I’m only just now getting started in life.  I suppose that realization brings with it a little bit of panic.  Fifty years have gone by and I surely don’t have fifty years left.  I want to be able to live joyfully, to let all unpleasant things slide from me, never taking hold.  I don’t want to allow negative thoughts to crowd my mind.  I want to be comfortable in my skin and in my mind.  I am a rock, standing firm on the ocean shore, while waves crash around me.  They can’t hurt me.  I stand solidly, and let them fall at my feet.  I feel them and I let them go.  I breathe in.  I breathe out.  I keep on loving.  And so I live.

Wrinkles are emerging, but at least they are the smiley happy eye wrinkles...

I have this set of selfies in a photo album called “Fifty Shades of… …Sue” that I’m planning to post on my FB wall next Saturday. My suck it fifty declaration. My sense of humor isn’t always evident, but these are the thoughts that have been milling about in my mind in the past weeks and days while I’ve taken those pictures. All this anxiety. So to offset that, a collection of serendipitously lovely images. Hey, there’s another pretty one. Let’s post that. Really, then, it’s an unveiled invitation for others to say, my goodness, you don’t look anywhere near FIFTY! I have no shame.

September 11th, 2009 | 5 Comments »

I’ve got loads of work to do, but am so, so tired.  I just can’t bear it right now.  I end up feeling anxious because the load is looming, but I have to remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, it will get done, and the world will keep on spinning.  It doesn’t have to get done this instant.

I’m referring to the day job.   I don’t have nearly as much trouble procrastinating when it comes to the rest- of- the- day- job.  I’ve got back-burner projects that have been on simmer for ages now.  I get the important things done.  The clothes get washed, the meals get prepared, the dishes get washed.  The boys get tucked in to bed.  I get a shower every now and then.

I had a three day exercise streak last week in which I managed to drop by the gym on my way home from the office.  Then Gadget got called out of town so I had to give up the gym in order to pick up the kids in time from daycare.  Late fees are very steep.

Gadget’s dad passed away a few weeks ago.  He was 87 and ready to go.  There was a flurry of coordinating family gatherings and preparing for the memorial.  He was a neat man, and we will miss him.  LB is named in part after him, and I’m proud of that.  The circumstances were sad, but the family gatherings were so nice.  I got to meet Gadget’s twin brother, who lives in New York and hasn’t seen his sibs for 15 years, and hadn’t seen some of the older sibs for 25 years!  It was sort of intriguing to observe the (fraternal) twin and get a chuckle out of the similar looks, expressions and mannerisms.  There were late nights with a room full of brothers playing guitars and singing, and they had good appetites and gobbled everything down that I made, which made me feel very happy.  Gadget says things like, “What in God’s green earth prompted you to buy pulled pork?” instead of, “Wow, pulled pork is quite delicious in tacos.”  His brothers were always thanking me and complimenting me on the delicious food.  Of course, their respective domestic partnerships may have contributed to their level of gratitude.  And similarly Gadget’s level of take- it- for- grantedness.  It felt great to feel appreciated, while it lasted.

My niece had her son at 31 weeks, the day before LB’s birthday, due to toxemia.  He was 2lbs 4oz.  Both mama and baby are fine, thank God, and the baby is breathing on his own!  He’ll be in the NICU for a while, but he’s growing and putting on weight.

I finally got to meet another niece’s son last week, who is now 2.  He’s a miracle boy, born with hydrocephalus.  He’s amazing to see, really.  He’s doing SO WELL!  He is a trooper.  Cognitively, he seems fine.  Physically, he’s a bit delayed, but everything works, and he’s figuring it out.  Truly, he’s a miracle boy.  His sister is BB’s age, and is as sharp as a tack.  She talks circles around BB.  She’s got an amazing vocabulary.  Granted, BB’s a brute, but he seems to be a smart boy, so she’s a super-duper smarty.   They were playing a game where one was supposed to cover their eyes while the other hid an object.  When the item was hidden, the hider would say, ” Ready or not, here I come, peekaboo!”  How cute is that?  BB had a hard time not peeking, and when he was the hider, he would tell her where to look.  Suspense is not his thing.  Silly goose.  Bless his heart.

I seem to have pulled a back muscle in my sleep.  If I turn or move just right, it takes my breath away.  Hrumph.

LB has developed separation anxiety.  When I drop him off at daycare, he flails his body and screams and spouts tears.  I remember BB did this also, but don’t remember how long it lasted.  Hopefully not long.

In the world of corporate takeovers, Gadget and his boss did such a good job shutting down the last warehouse that they’ve been asked to take care of the rest of the warehouse closures across the country.  That’s good for him, in that it helps elevate him in the eyes of the new company (which hopefully means he will get to keep his job), and gives him some bachelor time, but bad for me in that it leaves me a single mom.  Although, somehow I managed to take care of everything and then some, while he was gone.  Go figure.  Maybe I’ll take a couple of days off the next time leaves, and go visit my sister.

Lordy, I need a vacation.

May 18th, 2009 | 8 Comments »

I have the weaning blues.


LB isn’t calling the shots here. It’s all on me, since I pump exclusively. Something about dropping supply just gets to me. Maybe it’s because of how hard I work to maintain supply, it seems so contrary to intentionally reduce it. Part of me wants to be done, and to have that part of my life back, but part of me doesn’t want to let go. It’s all wrapped up in ‘this is my last baby, this is the last time I will ever get to do this’. I suppose that’s the source of the blues — I won’t be down this path again and it’s so hard and sad to close this door. I’m currently at 3x/day now, and working on dropping to 2x.  I have only managed to stretch to 9.5 hours, but yesterday hit a new low of 21 ounces, down from over 40, and with that, the blues hit me hard.


In a way, I’m sort of addicted to pumping now and keep calculating in my head how I can keep things going if I just stick to 2x, once I get there, or even 1x. But then, if the supply is so low by then, part of me says why even bother trying to keep at it and why not just get my freedom back.


I EP’ed for a full year with BB, and never had these blues.   Maybe because I was hoping to have more kids, and/or maybe because I never did make enough to give him 100%. I pumped 75% and supplemented with formula 25%, and when I decided to wean at the one year mark, it was easy as cake to dry up and be done. No emotional issues whatsoever (other than the obsession of milk production consuming my life for an entire year; I suppose if I went through my archives, they may tell a different story). This time is so different for me. I’m 44 now, have two beautiful boys, and the baby window is closed. If I’d been able to have kids earlier in life, I might have tried for 3 or 4, but as it turns out, it was a miracle for me to get what I got. I am eternally grateful and blessed for the opportunity to be a mother.


Anyhow, it’s probably normal to get the weaning blues. Hormones are undoubtedly shifting, and there’s the whole letting go thing.


I have a smokin’ hot new hairdo, though, and that makes me feel happy.  It’s the short choppy number again.  I really like short, these last several years.


The Mac photo booth is a lot of fun, too.


I prefer PC to Mac, for the most part.  If I were only going to play with Photo Booth, surf the web, and sync my iTouch, then I’d use the Mac — it handles those things nicely.  But I like my PC better for photo editing and general file keeping.  So I hop back and forth between both worlds, which for me is kind of annoying.  I’m the girl who likes to stay put, after all.




And if I quit pumping, I won’t be playing with Photo Booth at midnight any more.  Or Facebook, for that matter.  Or Scrabble.  Or WordTwist.  Or Scramble.  Or Pathwords.  (I’m easily addicted to word games.)  The plus side is that I may actually be getting some more SLEEP!  I might even get my libido back.

Did I say that out loud?

I sure hope LB likes the milk I have stored in the freezer.