Almost Over

The jet lag.

I forget that it takes a bit longer for me to adjust on the way back.

I was sitting at the park watching one of my charges swing and suddenly I got whacked with the tired’s.

I looked at my phone and realized it was 1 a.m. Paris time.

Of course.

I am still surprised that my body doesn’t adjust as fast as I think it will.

But I only had to take a look at the baby this morning as he fell asleep with his head down on the table, to see how powerful it is when we mess with our time clocks.

He was so sweet and out hard.

He didn’t wake up, although he fussed a little, when I removed him from the high chair and got him snuggled down for his nap.

I had a moment of wishing to just hold him and let him sleep against me, but the other two monkeys are with me full-time this week, school’s not yet back in for them, and it would have been too much to juggle a sleeping baby on me and two high energy kids on top of it.

As the case was, the little lady decided to help mom with chores and the eldest and I played Monopoly.

He’s really quite good for an 8-year-old, but he had a hard time with losing.

I didn’t rig it, I won, yes, I am that person, I am the person that will beat a kid at a game.

And not because I’m an asshole.

My mom was an asshole to me the first time I learned how to play Monopoly and was extremely competitive, she and her friends would have Monopoly parties that went on for hours and hours and days at a time.

They would leave the board set up in the kitchen and keep playing until there was a winner.

I was quite fascinated by it and at some point I learned how to play.

I learned how to be cut throat.

It wasn’t much fun.

Although the competitiveness of it was a kind of excitement that I had not experienced before that ramped me way up.

No.

I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, but I was trying to show him what it felt like to lose.

He’d rather win.

What kid wouldn’t?

But he’s also smart enough to know if I was throwing a game.

I have been tempted to before, he likes a couple of card games and he’ll get super upset if I win, but he also notices if I’m not playing with my all, so I just stay honest and play like I mean it.

Which is how I played the Monopoly today.

And he was good, not great, but good, and I could see that he was super into getting the money and collecting the properties and building the little houses and hotels up.

He was also expecting to win and a bit flabbergasted when he didn’t.

I told him how proud I was of him for figuring out big words, and for doing math problems and for playing as long as he did.

I also gently pointed out that there were things that he did super well, that he had ideas about how to make investments on his properties and figured out that he should put more houses on the properties that were landed on most often.

He was picking up strategy.

He didn’t much want to hear it, but I told him anyway, and when he realized that the person with all the money was the winner he went quite socialist on me and it was so sweet.

He decided to make up his own game where all the hotels became public housing and there were gardens and places people could go and get soup and be fed and it was so endearing to watch him draw it out on pieces of paper and talk about how having all the money wasn’t the most important thing.

I don’t know that he’s going to remember our game of Monopoly down the line, but it felt like a little victory, a win even though he’d lost, that he figured out that money wasn’t the most important thing.

It was probably pancakes.

He adores pancakes and I obliged this morning and made him breakfast (and lunch and dinner).

It was a lot of cooking today, but I don’t mind, I do like cooking for them and often I will make things I don’t myself eat, which is fine, I’m not tempted, it’s actually rather nice.

I used to love to bake before I got abstinent from sugar and flour, so it’s rather soothing and fun for me to cook for the family, I get the joy of making things that others enjoy and pancakes were definitely on that list.

So too, apple pie.

Which I will be making two of tomorrow.

I wasn’t expecting that, but dad’s got company coming over and a big request was made for my apple pie.

I don’t mind really, it’s nice, like I said to bake, and truth be told it does make my day go faster.

It will definitely eat up some time.

Which I’m all about on Fridays.

So despite the bit of jet lag, I am making it through.

One more day of work and then a very busy weekend.

I have an early interview on Saturday for a private practice internship, then a dentist appointment, then group supervision, a nail salon date for myself, a get together to do the deal, and then a late dinner with my person.

And Sunday will be full too.

But I’m not there yet.

One more day to go.

Thank God it’s almost Friday.

Almost There

Almost to the weekend.

So close I can taste it.

I am ready.

I am so ready.

It’s been a long week, not horrible, just long.

I’ve seen my therapist, had a huge aha moment with her, felt some things get inwardly re-arranged and they’re still settling.

I saw my supervisor and we had an amazing session.

I have seen six clients this week.

I have two more to see tomorrow.

I have worked full days at work.

I have one more to go.

One more.

Then.

Saturday.

OH.

How I have been dreaming about you.

It just can’t get to me fast enough.

And the week has gone by pretty quick, for which I am grateful.

Sometimes anticipation of an event can make the time getting there super painful.

Exquisite pain.

“It’s almost Christmas!” My little girl charge said twirling around in her ballet leotard and tutu.

I hate to break it to you kiddo, but it’s the first week in October, it’s going to be a minute.

Despite, yes, ugh, seeing the first Christmas decorations up at Nordstrom’s Rack last weekend when I went to do some clothing shopping.

I mean, sure, they had some Halloween stuff up too, but really the bulk of it was Christmas stuff.

I was a touch horrified.

Let me enjoy the autumn please.

Let me have my Halloween.

“What are you going to be for Halloween?” My oldest boy charge asked me.

He was not satisfied with my response of “a nanny.”

“Come on!” He demanded.

“Um, a grad student?” I smiled.

“No!” He said, literally stomping his foot.

“What about a psychotherapist?” I added, trying not to chuckle too much at his expense, he was so serious.

“That’s not a costume!” He opened his eyes really big and huffed out air from his cheeks.

I don’t have a costume, although I could pull off a pin-up girl really easily, I have a couple of dresses that are retro pin-up.

But pin-up might be, um, well, a tad sexy for my nanny day job.

I might wear of Day of the Dead skull print dress.

It’s also a touch on the pin-up side, but I can down play the make up and hair, and make it cute instead of sexy.

Child appropriate.

I won’t see my therapist that day, she’ll be out of town, but I will have clients, at least I think I will have one, I have to double-check, it feels like one of them recently cancelled for that day, but I can’t remember off the top of my head.

So.

Whatever I do wear needs to translate to going in to my internship and seeing clients.

I get a head of myself.

It’s not Halloween yet.

Nor is it Christmas.

I am just anticipating my weekend.

And that’s enough.

I’m almost done with my antibiotics too.

Which is nice, they upset my tummy a bit.

I have one more day and then done with them.

I still have had intermittent tooth pain, but I’m dealing.

Just taking ibuprofen and trying to stay hydrated.

I feel like drinking more water is always helpful, no matter what.

I hope the pain passes.

I had it come on pretty bad yesterday at the end of the work day and it was distracting at my internship, then I woke up this morning and nothing.

A bit of pain in the late afternoon today, but end of day at work was doable.

It’s been not so hot over the past week.

I do hope it passes.

If it continues or gets worse I’m just going to suck it up and make another appointment and let my dentist poke around in there some more.

Not excited for that.

So.

Hey tooth fairy.

Cut this lady a little slack.

The dentist didn’t see any cavities, nothing showed up on the x-ray, so stop hounding me for a tooth, I ain’t got one to give.

Anyway.

Who cars about my teeth when the weekend is almost here.

I’m not excited, really, ha.

I have to also remember, in all the excitement to book my ticket for travel.

I need to book by October 15th.

Which means I should do it this weekend as next weekend, October 13th-15th, is a school weekend.

I am happy that I can still use the ticket and book flight.

It’s nice to look forward to travel.

Even if I won’t necessarily take it for a little while.

I will still get to take it and I won’t be throwing $435 down the drain.

I have wasted plenty of money on lesser things, but travel is sacred to me.

I love to get on a plane and go.

Oh.

I always want to come back home, but I do like to go somewhere new and explore it, sometimes I also want to go to somewhere I know.

I will always have a lech to travel to Paris, always.

It is familiar and still foreign enough and though I have been many times, there always is something new to see.

I almost found myself applying for a two month artist in residency for next year.

But then.

Haha.

I remember, um, you might be in school those two months.

Not going to happen.

It’s a prestigious fellowship.

It’s two months rent and $1,000 a month to support your time plus travel expenses.

Nothing to sneeze at.

I applied for it once, I think that’s why I got the notice in my e-mail today.

But I had to laugh after I took a minute to realize, of course I can’t go for two months to Paris in 2018 since I’m in school and have other really important obligations, but I laughed at the photo the fellowship was using as an enticement.

It was two people romantic and laughing in the sun on a bridge near Pont Neuf.

Which is a gorgeous and magical.

But the fellowship is for February and March.

Which are not sunny months at all.

AT ALL.

They are dark and cold and dreary and wet and rainy.

That photo definetly taken in summer or late spring.

Not way it was FEBRUARY.

Also it’s why, I bet, they do the fellowship at that time because it’s probably the least traveled time to go to Paris, thus cheaper, than any other time, maybe August, which is when the city basically shuts down in the heat and everybody leaves to go on vacation.

It was a lovely fantasy, though, to indulge in for a minute.

But really.

My time needs to be focused here.

Here is where it’s at.

All the things.

And Friday.

Hello weekend.

I have waited so long for you.

I can taste your nearness and it is maddening.

Seriously.

 

It’s December

How the fuck did that happen?

I mean, seriously?

The days so full they just float on past.

I got a lot done today and at the same time had many moments of not having enough time to do it all.

NOT ENOUGH TIME.

Papers to write.

Practicum to figure out.

Doing the deal every damn day.

Not that I hate on that, it’s just one of the things in my schedule, a constant and a source of pleasure, but additional time that I always have to account for.

Even though I was not in contact with any of the usual suspects today, I couldn’t have used my phone to save my life, there was always something happening.

The day just whipped past, as so many of them do, unless they don’t and that’s always an interesting experience, but not one that I have often.

I got up early and did some writing and made breakfast.

But.

I did not eat it.

No, I just prepared it and packed up my lunch for work and did my Spending Plan for the month of December and balanced my numbers from November.

It’s the first of the month, got to represent.

I drank a small, for me, cup of coffee.

And went to yoga.

Because yoga.

And I’m getting back into a groove and routine with it and I like that.

Even though it feels like less time, it’s important, imperative really, to exercise and move and I haven’t had enough of that recently, so back in it with a vengeance.

Which is why I prepared breakfast, but did not eat it.

I do not like doing yoga with food in my tummy, it feels awful.

I had a great class and felt really strong in my body and then came home, threw laundry in the wash, myself in the shower, got dressed, did my hair, makeup, made more coffee, and ate my breakfast.

Then.

Hopped on the scooter and zoomed off to work.

And there was no down time.

It was all on, full tilt boogie.

Extra cooking.

Extra laundry.

Extra big feels from the boys.

Which I’m getting used to.

But it doesn’t change the tenor of my job and it certainly does not make it easier.

Today I was greeted by one little monkey who said, “Carmen!  I missed you!”

I got great big hugs and snuggles.

The older boy ignored me and then said, out of the blue, “you know, Carmen, you’re sort of chubby.”

Wow.

Um, thanks kid.

HA.

But who needs to be right when they can be happy?

Happy was my principle today and for the most part I was able to have that.

Not all day long, not all the time, but for a good part of the day I was really happy.

Just happy to be alive, in my skin, with a job, a scooter, a home to come home to, a Christmas tree with blue lights, sunflowers in a Mason jar on my kitchen table, a laptop, an Iphone, all the stuff, all the things.

“You’re right ___________ I am chubby,” I said without skipping a beat.

His mother, however, was aghast and took him aside and told him some stuff and I got an apology, but he was actually quite confused and later when we were out at the park having our own little play date (his brother had a doctor’s appointment) I told him what I thought and how I felt about what he had said.

“You know, honey, you’re were right, I am chubby, and I’m ok with that, and it’s astute of you to notice and you used a new word, which is cool, but you know, your mom was right too, some people might have their feelings hurt if you said that to them,” I explained as the light faded from the sky and the early winter evening sank over the Mission.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, his eyes open really wide, which he does when he’s trying to express his sincerest sincere self.

“I know pudding, it’s ok, I am chubby, full, happy, replete, and that just means there’s more of me to love on you,” and I gave him a hug.

What’s the fucking point getting upset with a child?

I am soft.

I am curvy.

I am also strong as fuck, and there is a six-pack underneath the extra skin on my tummy, you just can’t see it.

I also come from big, strong, strapping people.

I am not, nor will I ever be a waif.

I could starve myself all day long.

And I have restricted during a period of my early abstinence when I went a little over board, but I was always thinking about food and that drove me just as bats as the bit of extra weight.

I like who I am.

I like how I look.

I am beautiful.

I am happy.

I am vivacious.

I am succulent.

I am divine.

I have absolutely no humility either, but that’s a character attribute I will probably be striving for all my life.

I am a voluptuous woman.

And I am alright with that.

I got a message from an old lover.

He didn’t seem to mind my chubbiness.

Not at all.

Not one fucking bit.

Nope.

Anyway.

I don’t care about it enough to make a fuss about it and I didn’t want my charge to be shamed because he was observant.

It is what it is.

Although, I do have to say I have had the idea pop into my head a bunch of times though in regards to trying cool sculpting or liposuction.

Or a surgery to remove some of the excess skin from my weight loss off my arms and tummy.

But then I think.

Whatever.

This is my perfect body, imperfectly perfect, and God-given and if it was supposed to be different.

Well.

It’d be different.

Maybe if I had the money to spare.

But for now.

The spending plan for December does not include cosmetic procedures.

Ha.

It was fun to do, though, I like putting in my Christmas categories and getting a few things squared away for the holiday and my traveling.

I’m happy.

It was a good day.

Busy yes.

But so good.

So good to be alive.

And hey!

Fingers crossed.

Completely louse free.

I have my last appointment tomorrow at 11 a.m.

I am ready to be done with it.

Seriously.

And it’s Friday.

Yippee!

Bring it on.

I’m ready for a little fun.

I really am.