Archive for the 'Bad Television and Gummy Bears' Category

Singomom: smart enough to know she’s screwed

Published on Sunday, March 22, 2009 in Bad Television and Gummy Bears. 12 Comments

With a month still to go, no one in this house is rational any more. Ren is refusing to comply with the most basic of requests, Mare weeps at the drop of a hat, Cute Husband looks like he’s in Day 5 of Basic School Bivouak, and I’m not sleeping very well.

Late night ‘net surfing, checking up on Octomom, I found this:

Rush transcript from “The O’Reilly Factor,” March 18, 2009.

GUEST HOST LAURA INGRAHAM: Now, is there any indication that Nadya Suleman now is just completely overwhelmed and can’t handle this? I know she’s getting help from a philanthropic group, an Angels group that’s coming and helping with nanny work and so forth with the kids. But has she outwardly displayed any, you know, emotion of being just completely overwhelmed? Because I can’t — I can’t imagine how she’s coping.

SHANNON FOX, FAMILY THERAPIST: No. It’s interesting you would bring that up, Laura, because an indicator of her mental health would be that she would be overwhelmed. Any normal parent would be absolutely overwhelmed at the thought of eight babies, let alone bringing two home to six more kids. But Nadya hasn’t shown any sense of overwhelm or any sense that this is a momentous occasion, and that sort of indicates that she’s still living in this land of denial, that everything is going to be fine.

Oh, excellent. I’m super-healthy then because I’m only taking one newborn home to two older kids and I am FREAKING OUT.

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Tomorrow, I will figure something out

Published on Monday, March 9, 2009 in Bad Television and Gummy Bears. 35 Comments

I am trapped in a house. People are chasing me. I fly into the ceiling, heart racing, shredding first plaster, then papery wood, planks, and finally roof tile. I claw and the people are coming and then I am free and I am flying and I know I am Superman but I just can’t fly as fast as he’s supposed to be able to. I fly, but I am losing altitude and falling and they’re going to get me.

“Hon, it’s 7:40,” Cute Husband says. I look out the window. Gray snow. Daylight savings. We’re behind. Losing altitude, propulsion. I can’t believe it’s still snowing. We have roof tiles missing. And something really large is living in our walls and gnawing on wood at night.

I can’t believe it’s snowing.

Kids to school. Meetings. Phone conferences. Papers. Still snowing and gray. Afternoon pickup and then off to the market to buy stuff to make supper. In the line, kids hanging off the cart, grumpy woman behind us, the card is declined.

And it’s really snowing now. I feel bad about myself. I dig for a credit card, and it goes through, and I wince. Interest. Charges. Balances. I just want to pay it off and not go through this any more.

I make dinner and think about the beast in the wall and the fact I can’t find the high chair. What is wrong with me? What kind of horrible people are we? The roof, the credit cards, the interest charges, the beast in the wall. How will I work and be the mother they deserve and what if I don’t feel better when the baby comes and I am this tired for the rest of my life?

And when do I get to have some fun?

Cute Husband comes home and asks me if I am okay. I can’t even answer. I plate supper and look at how messy the house is and hate myself a little more. Finally, I say it:

“I hate that we work so freaking hard and it’s not enough. We’re barely afloat.” We’re on our umpteenth year of barely afloat.

“You could look at it that way,” Cute Husband says. “Or you could realize that at the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression, we’re still afloat. And it’s because of you.”

It isn’t true, it’s Us together. But his generosity humbles me. “Barely” is still afloat. We have health insurance and we feed the kids fresh fruit and whole grains. Other people are losing their houses. Other people don’t have jobs, much less really good ones they can do from home.

I go into the Kindergarten Harem. My babies are wrapped around each other in a pile of silky, fluffy and pink. They each have a cat asleep on their feet.

Shame on me. Shame, shame.

Life is not meant to be easy. Sometimes I forget.

To bed. Watching the Daily Show. It makes me laugh a few times.

The beast in the wall has given me a break and is not scratching. The snow has stopped. Whatever damage has been done to our house is done. Nothing I can do about it tonight.

Tomorrow, I will figure something out.

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