Prisoner of Mommywars

While hosting some friends in my home two weeks ago, I was informed by two ladies in attendance that's it's easy for me to do all this "stuff" because I don't have small children. I can't really disagree, although I haven't really ever considered it easy. And I'm not sure which stuff was the giveaway sign of my leisure - painted fingernails, vacuumed floor, opening the box from the bakery that contained a cake?

But as it happens, I did pay a price for children. I didn't have any. And it's because I noticed way back in college that American society was structured such that you could either do things, or have kids. I decided to attempt to do things. And I'm still failing at that.

I don't really remember what things I wanted to do. Something about writing? Travel? Living in Chicago? (I am quite certain it had nothing to do with my nails.)

Oh sure, I did my 25% in raising my stepdaughter. There were times when we missed social events (1994-1998?) and went on different trips than we would have without a daughter, but no, it's not like taking full responsibility for the conception, delivery, development, of a human being. It's realizing that you're the facilitator of communication between two parties that could clearly communicate without you.

But I gave up the idea of a child for a "career", and we all know where that ended up. I am a little bitter about corporate bait-and-switch, the do-what-we-say-and-you'll-succeed lies. (As usual with the shenanigans of the universe, it lead to the job I have now, which is perfect, so I guess I can't even complain about that.)

It's not like I have (or ever had) a burning desire for a child, so I guess I shouldn't pout. It's ended up exactly like it had to, and it's fine. I could do more. And it's not to show up the moms of the world. It's to fulfill my own destiny. Which I am pretty sure is NOT to watch six hours of Real Housewives a week, so there's something to work on.

There's really two solutions to this problem. One, we all need to step up and really support mothers. I have no idea how to do that. Go, moms! Do the stuff I'm not doing.

And I've got to do the stuff I'm not doing, too. I think that it's really the same stuff. So, let's not draw a division line. Let's just do stuff. Stuff we want to do. 

I'm FLYing again!

You know, I've never claimed to have invented any of these systems. I just adapt what I find. And one my earliest gurus was the dorky, square, hopelessly lame Flylady.

Who is the Flylady? Well, in the world of Hints from Heloise and Good Housekeeping, she's an icon. In fact, she's a little purple icon with a black curvy Betty Rubble bob and a fishing pole who loves acronyms. She's got a whole online world, that sends instructions about how to keep your own world tidy and organized.

If I sound passive aggressive in my praise, let me apologize. I truly love Marla (the Flylady's real name). I've got the emails in my Yahoo account from 2004 to prove it. I tried so hard to be consistent at home keeping. My goal was to follow the system exactly, but it never quite fit for me. Maybe there were too many testimonials from Stay At Home Moms, or women that wanted to host church gatherings, or others completely caught up in the American consumer nightmare, and that's never how I pictured myself, or could even have imagined myself ever wanting to be. I could not taste the reward, and therefore the recipe made no sense.

But I'm back at it, and it's different this time. Having seen how Gretchen Rubin pays respect, and Apartment Therapy uses her ideas, I was able to look at it in a new way. Babysteps, Jump In Where You Are, Finally Loving Yourself (FLYing!) - these are all (pretty self-explanatory) concepts I kept in my heart, even after the rest of the systems fell apart. 

Oddly, it restarted recently by realizing that I was wasting weekends by sleeping too late. Next, while recovering from surgery, I realized I was completely ruining Sunday with the endless laundry that sometimes stretched until Tuesday before all of the clothing had returned from the basement. And, by some miracle of timing, Flylady started using Constant Contact, which put the emails back in my Yahoo account, at just the right time. 

So last week, I followed most of the Zone Cleaning missions, and did a load of laundry about every other day. It was a miracle. My kitchen is clean. My laundry will never be done, but it will also not be an overwhelming mountain of fabric and stair climbing ever again. And it's not that hard to do, but it makes such a difference. 

Big ups to you, Flylady. (That's dorky, hopelessly lame, faux-hip hop lingo for "Thank you".) I look forward to a HURP (House Under Reconstruction Processes). Yeah, that doesn't spell a real word because that's another skill I don't have. Fly on and inspire us all, my purple friend. 

February's projects have nothing to do with a sack of bile.

I think the correct word may be sac. Anyways, cholecystectomy (fancy term for gallbladder removal) recovery is easy as pie. Although, I haven't really tried to eat pie yet... we are re-exploring foods. So far, eggs, avocado, pizza, and potatoes au gratin are all good (you know, all the important food groups). The secret seems to be moderation. Damn. Another thing I already knew.

So, to keep the wheel turning, it is time to implement the February projects. I usually like to use 3 projects, but I expanded to four, because it's one more than eleven, or actually less than eleven, which is what I would like to tackle given unlimited attention, time and money. But four seems nice. My family unit of origin. A box. A square. Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

One: Read a romance. I am in the middle of 1Q84, but I am sure I'll finish it soon (or, rather, that my electronic loan from the library will end and my e-reader will automatically return it for me, thereby ending my experience). You know, for February. Something inspiring, so that I can believe in love for 300 pages. Suggestions are welcome.

Two: Plan and pack lunches for Richard and I. Frankly, this one kind of makes me angry. I shouldn't have to create lunch for a grown man. But if I am making myself a lunch, it's not that much harder to make two. I will also benefit from the organization it will require. We'll see how it goes.

Three: De-clutter. I need to let go of some things. Some of them are actual objects, and some are ideas. I want to spend 15 minutes every day letting go of something. It should be challenging, because I am already avoiding the task by blogging instead of clearing out the guest room for a guest next weekend.

Four: Love. I want to confess my love to someone every day. Besides Mr. Awesome the cat, of course.

I'm trying not to be too literal here, but I failed yesterday, and today's not looking good either. I'm thinking it could be an offhand comment, or a nice note on the social network, or something like that, but maybe that's too nebulous?  I want to spread the love, but without a knife, you know? Because where is the shame in someone knowing how much you like them?

The checklist will remain essential, as December and January have proven. I was excellent in December at documentation, but January kind of slid off the road, if you follow snow analogies. I blame it on surgery, although there was nothing on that list that would have conflicted with my recovery (reading, sleeping, daily exercise?). But I've got four-wheel drive, so we're digging out of the ditch and moving on.

So, let me know if you've got a good romance I should read, or you want some crappy craft supplies, or you need some love. February = fantastic, because we shall make it so. 

Don't let the door hit you

I am 24 hours post gallbladder removal surgery. Not feeling too bad. The cat is sleeping my left shoulder, as he does. Oddly, my right shoulder hurt the most yesterday. Apparently the gas they use in laparoscopic procedures is really hard on the phrenic nerve in your diaphragm, which for some reason results in pain in the right shoulder. Pain is crazy that way. It's called referred pain, and I love that they don't really know the mechanism that makes it work.

Having worked in health care most of my adult life, I always enjoy seeing how organizations handle the situations. To make it even more fascinating, I happened to have the surgery at my former employer's surgical suites. I was slightly alarmed that no less than 3 providers failed to ask me the "safety" questions in an appropriate setting (meaning, they all asked me if I felt safe going home in front of my husband, who would have presumably been the reason I didn't feel safe, if in fact I didn't). All the hand washing was appropriate. Yes, my brain is now broken, and I can't not look for it.

I was also impressed with their pre-op preparations. I took two showers with CHG (Hibiclens) soap before I entered the hospital, and then had to wipe down with more anti-bacterial wipes when I changed into "our matching pajamas", as my surgeon calls them. The nurse explained that it was based on a study (evidence-based! hot health care buzzwords!) that showed that it greatly reduced surgical site infections. I'm all for that, since the belly button can certainly gather some yuck. Plus, I love that she explained why it was necessary, which it seems like no one wants to take the time to do, and it's really important to the patient.

So, today I'm going to go for a walk, and take a shower, and maybe try to eat dinner with friends. In an analogy I've been working on but not yet perfected, it feels like the moody, violent roommate that no one likes has moved out of my abdomen apartment building. It's a bright day-future. We can re-arrange the furniture the way we like, and keep it a little cleaner. 

Upon losing yet another organ...

So, after 2 months of off-and-on agony, my gallbladder surgery will finally take place tomorrow. Will I miss that jerk bag? Well, time will tell, I suppose. (Someone just posted on my facebook to "Eat an egg now!").

I do find it interesting that sacrificing organs that were provided in the human design is "no big deal" to medicine today. I did joke with my surgeon that he could take anything else "extra" he found in there. (He didn't find that amusing.) With that thought in mind, I initially resisted the idea. Why give up a perfectly useful sac just because it randomly makes you want to die?

But 4 more attacks later, I came around. Please! Take it out, preferably today (tomorrow should suffice, however). I also, through the magic of social networks, was reassured by the legions of my friends who had no regrets. This was nice to counter-balance two relatives who were against it.

I do believe that the outcome will be based on my attitude. Really, it is okay that I may not be able to eat a typical American diet with impunity. It is the stupidest way to eat in the world. I would much rather eat foods that are good for me, and this will be enforced by my own gut.

And we're back to listening to your gut. But I can do that! I have no other choice at this point. I'm still kind of scared, but it will be all right. If it's important, it will be hard. I can do it. 

I'm no different than anyone else.

In case you're more results oriented than wandering oriented, you could just read this post at Lifehacker about changing your habits, and avoid all my self-induced dramatic warbling. I may not be original, but I try to be entertaining?

And just to keep it in the Gawker family, according to Jezebel, my search/find/rescue mission is at minimum meaningless.

I'm going to watch some videos, change my clothes and go to dinner with friends. 

Dr. Phil's Apple Cider Vinegar Cure

Here I am, sipping my delicious cocktail of apple cider vinegar and water. Why am I doing this? Well, because I am fool for the googles and gallbladders. Why aren't you doing it?

It did occur to me that it could be because I am a sucker. Straight up fool, naive faith-following simpleton who believes whatever she is told. There are elements of truth to this. (I do steer my life with the idea that if I can read the instructions, I can probably do any given task, although I've been proven wrong many times.) Who would believe that you can treat gallbladder attacks with apple cider vinegar? (I'll give you the answer quickly - someone who is having one within reach of the laptop.)

I would also like to point some fingers at Dr. Phil. I guess should have been a little more discerning, but I vowed to read as many books as possible in January. I didn't say they were all going to be brilliant. I do need a little perspective on this relationship crap. And damn if Dr. Phil doesn't have some good points... albeit, none of them are about apple cider vinegar. So if I can accept new information from Dr. Phil, then what else can I do?

Placebos are cool with me, too. Why not try the least harmful approach before the most harmful? I probably consume more vinegar in my salads. It's good for the local economy too, what with the apples and all. Although I don't really believe (oops, this makes placebos harder to implement) that I'm going to cure all of my health issues AND end up with a glowing complexion to boot, I wouldn't be sad if that happened, either.

But the real reason I'm trying is because I think want to be part scientist. I'm the fun scientist, messing with your household foods and celebrities. I take what I like, and leave the rest (I mean, isolate the contributing factors) to see what will work. AND I'm my own guinea pig, so there's no risk to you.

So here we go. 1 tablespoon of apple cider vinegar in 1 glass of water, preferably before dinner, once a day.   When gallbladders attack (which they have been recently..... jerks), we put it in organic apple juice. Dr. Phil I only trust as far as I can throw him and as long as he doesn't start rambling about Jesus, but so far he's been pretty good. What's the worst that can happen? I will move on to dandelion supplements and Eckert Tolle?