Wake me up when September ends

Fall has hit me like a pile of bricks.

I was worried that it would feel like this, and I found myself bracing for it as our Hawaiian vacation came to an end last week.

In more ways than one (and especially in hindsight), our vacation became this paradise compared to the slog of everyday life here in Oregon.

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We had been in gorgeous weather. Delicious warmth, invigorating ocean breeze, and humidity that I actually welcomed. We stepped off the plane in Portland and it was frigid and drizzly. Ugh, welcome home.

On vacation, my husband was right there with me, making decisions and plans, helping to clean up messes and deal with meltdowns. We went to bed at the same time and we got up at the same time and we had quality family time and we had fun. When we got home, we went straight into the Fall routine. By the time I got up in the morning, my husband had already left for work. I was alone to draaaaag the kids out of bed, convince my older one to get dressed, and beg them both to PLEASE EAT BREAKFAST. I was yelling and pleading before we even left the house for school. On top of it all, I was exhausted and frankly mourning the loss of summer and dreading the coming winter months.

Another piece to this is that I terminated therapy this past week. (That’s the clinical term – termination. I don’t like it; it feels extremely violent for just describing a goodbye and an end to treatment.) This was a planned termination, and it was good, albeit bittersweet. I could sense that we were at a stopping point for some time now, as I had started to come to session and just tell stories about my week. Holy cow, somehow over a year in therapy had passed and I had actually accomplished what I had set out to do. My anxiety has been reduced, not eliminated but reduced. The unexpected work became more about accepting that anxiety is normal and not to let its presence completely derail my daily life. I’m proud of the work that I did, and I am happy to have met and worked with my awesome therapist. The bitter part is twofold: now I find myself mourning the relationship and the placeholder that sessions had been for me. They were an oasis of calm in my week, and they provided a guaranteed break from my kids and partner. Second, now that therapy is done, my safety net is gone. My anxiety might (no, will) come flaring back at some point and then what am I supposed to do?! It’s scary and sad.

So. Let’s just say that coming home from a magical vacation and thrust back into a chilly reality has not been fun. I’m trying to keep perspective. I’m trying to look forward to Halloween. (Anyone have any costume ideas for a family of four?!?!)

Please send me comforting Fall vibes. Maybe I just need an effing PSL already.

Get me through this flight

You know how when you’re traveling with kids on a plane your only goal, besides getting to your destination, is that your kid not be the worst-behaved child on the plane?

Not the loudest? Not the most screamy?

Well, today we failed.

We tried and we failed.

We had a great vacation, and now it’s over. On one hand, I’m really happy to be home and have my own space and privacy. But on the other, all our support is gone and now we have to go back to doing everything ourselves.

And oh my GLOB, Oregon is freaking cold.


In closing, a haiku:

Get me through this flight

Crying, screaming, thrashing, sigh

I am so tired


NaBloPoMo Day 28

Pre-wedding-moon!

Back up to about 6 months ago: I was super stressed out cuz I had to maybe start thinking about possibly eventually studying for my licensing exams, and Brian was all stressed to the max after writing his master’s thesis and defending it and then graduating.

At that time, we were thinking that we needed to plan a frickin vacation.  We knew we were gonna need it.  I think we thought right.

We have never been on a real vacation together before (“real” means longer than 5 days and for the sole reason of chillaxin and not some other event thingy going on), and so we decided let’s go balls-outLet’s do this thing right.

We began by doing some preliminary planning of a vacation to New Orleans/Charleston.  Neither of us has been to the south, and so we figured we could protect each other and I’d buy some expensive cover up for my O-shaped tattoo circling my navel as a tribute to Barry (backup plan: if the rain washes away the cover-up I’d just tell them it was for Oprah), and we’d be good.  But then we realized that the places we really wanted to see required a lot of driving in between.  We also realized that it would be hot as Satan’s butthole and humid to boot.  We also realized it was the south.

There’s not enough sweet tea and gravy to lure me down there (that’s what she said) for July (which is specifically when we were available to go).

Back to square one.

And so I thought, where’s somewhere tropical that would be easy and fun and with minimal drug cartel activity?

The answer: Puerto Rico.  No passports, no currency exchange, drug lords are really chill there (I hear they give out free samples!), American cell service, and yeah it’s hot and humid, but we trade that for awesome beaches and bio-luminescent organisms in the water that are gonna make me look radioactively attractive in pictures (think Avatar crossed with Playboy). 

Get ready for my next Christmas card, y’all.

 

Little did we know, as we were planning, how awesomely cool the timing of this vacation would be.  Sure, I had hoped to be licensed by now, but I am a horrible test-taker and it’s amazing I even made it through the tutorial.  At that time, the promotion I now have at work wasn’t even available yet, and was thus not yet in my sights.  And Brianboy hadn’t yet popped the question…who knows how long he had been master-minding this euphoric wave of events.

So, little did we (me?) know, but this is no longer just a vacation.  Oh no.  It’s a frickin pre-wedding-moon, bitches!  We get to get some sand between our toes and throw a few back before we enter the crazy, estrogen-fueled flurry of lace, satin, and an unnecessary number of cake tastings.

Pre-wedding-moons are gonna be a thing now.  You’ll see.  I better cash in on this shit; since I am about to make my contribution to the elaborate ponzi scheme operation that is wedding planning, then I might as well profit from it at the same time.   First stop, trademark office.  Actually, first stop – 31 Flavors.  Then trademark office.

PR is going to be an adventure for the books!  For several reasons!  First of all, I automatically assume this trip is doomed from the start since we’re leaving on Friday the 13th.  Also, from what I have read, the roads are crap, rendering maps and GPS useless.  Plus, they are filled with wild horses and chickens.  When we inevitably get lost and I bludgeon Brian to death with my umbrella (the only logical consequence), I plan to ride a wild horse off into the tropical sunset with a wild chicken under one arm as a snack for later.  Sounds entirely reasonable.

What’s even more awesome is that my idol, Jenny The Bloggess, *just* went to PRIt’s like we’re the same person.  I can’t wait to see all the zero-gravity penises!

Hopefully I can choke out one more post before I leave.  We’ll see.  Stay tuned.