i was inspired by another blog to do this... i thought it was so perfectly funny and refreshing to read another woman airing out her "top 5 quirks" of the year. immediately i thought, i should do that. and although i have many... oh-so-many things that make me quirky... i will name the top 5 i've noticed in myself this year. in other words, they've probably existed in me for a long time... but i'm only now beginning to dust off the surface of my very crazy self.
i hope you feel inspired to do so as well.
1.) i'm sure every mother has their thing that they obsess over with their child. for some it's body temperature... which i don't really care about, as my mother likes to point out every time she sees her grandson and thinks he's freezing to death (even though he's just fine to me). for others it's a sleep schedule... and leif has forced me to throw my hands up in the air on this one. i've spent the last 20 months of his life trying to figure him out and finally gave in because he is not like all of your perfectly sleep trained children (read... he is STUBBORN) he fights sleep and i'm tired of fighting him to conform so i gave up. as long as he takes a nap at some point and goes to bed before 9 (but preferably 8) i'm happy. tonight i had him in bed by 8... he finally went to sleep at 9:30.
see?
i. give. up.
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nope. for me it's something else... choking... on food more specifically.
the child will be starving to death and i'm over at his plate sawing his food into tiny pieces because lord help us all if i have to perform the heimlich on him. if he were to choke, i'd probably run around in circles asking myself if he qualifies for the infant method or the adult method. it's so bad, that when others give him chunks of food, i break them into smaller pieces when they're not looking because i'm just sure they are the obstruction his little throat has been waiting for.
it doesn't help that a couple of times, when i've tried to relax about it, he's choked. for instance, the other night he was in the bathtub and i was chewing on crushed ice from a cup (a pregnancy craving, i guess). he likes ice too. this evening in particular he was asking for pieces of ice and then watching what happened when they hit the water. at first i was giving him tiny pieces, in case he stuck them in his mouth. but after several pieces going straight into the bathwater i loosened the reigns.
bad move.
when he asked for another piece i gave him a larger piece so that it would last longer in the bathtub. what did that child do, you ask? plopped it straight into his mouth.
breath monica, i told myself, he's almost 2 years old, he chews on ice all the time.
he's fine.
you. need. to. chill.
so i sat back and pseudo-relaxed while my little man sat there happily bathing and sucking on ice. and then he gagged on it... the dirty rat. just when i start to let go of my obsession he sucked me back in.
of course, he cleared it himself just fine and didn't even hardly wince. i, on the other hand, was getting ready to pull out my iPhone and start searching for how-to videos on clearing ice from your toddlers throat.
he'll probably be the only kid in elementary school whose sandwich will fit in a tiny container instead of a ziplock bag because i will have cut it for him into small, bite size pieces. not really... i mean, i actually let him eat a 1/2 of a sandwich this week without cutting it up. i stood their in the kitchen admiring the mastery of his whole sandwich-eating-ability and patting myself on the back for being such a great mother. he's so brilliant, i thought to myself.
but i'll still probably puree his raw vegetables.
just kidding... or am i? :)
2.) my kitchen has to be clean when i go to bed. i repeat... i can not go to sleep unless the kitchen is immaculate... well, that may be too strong of a word now that i have a child. but even still, the dishes must be loaded (the correct way) into the dishwasher, hand washed items must be cleaned and on the drying rack, crumbs wiped off of the counters and tables and i would prefer that all of the days work, receipts, papers, etc. are tucked away. i don't care whether you tuck them down your pants or put them where they belong... i just don't want to see them. (although this is why i have so many little baskets all over the place because my husband is the king of receipts and papers that i cannot get rid of). i want the illusion of cleanliness. it helps me to feel in control and able to handle what you throw at me.
the minute my kitchen gets "undone" i feel my soul start to itch and scratch. i'm pretty sure my left eye twitches and i probably start giving the look to kjaer when i see him set things on the counter. in fact, my high-metabolism man often eats an evening snack before going to bed and i just cannot understand how that certain dish can't make it into the dishwasher. he sets it on the counter above the dishwasher... not in it. when i see this, nearly every night, my blood boileth over. i've tried to just quietly put it away or mention it in passing... but it's clearly not a quirk of his that he sees as very important because he just handsomely smiles at me and shrugs while he says i was going to take care of it later. (i hate that word... later... blech). and he probably has every intention of doing it later... but later has a different meaning to kjaer than it does to me. later might mean tomorrow morning or three days from now. but me... i want it done NOW (another quirk that will probably not make the top 5 cut).
the kitchen is my domain. i am its ruler. and it must be respected by all who enter.
3.) number two reminds me of another thing that is quirky. my house could have dust an inch thick on its furniture, floors that haven't been vacuumed in 2 weeks, laundry piles the size of everest... but if my kitchen and living room floors are swept i feel so. much. better.
i remember after i had leif one of my biggest frustrations was my house felt like it was falling apart. i felt totally responsible for keeping it clean to my old standards (i think because i was home and not working). these standards have sooo-ho-ho changed since b.b. (before baby) but i could not figure out how to balance cleaning with a brand new baby (and the increase leif brought in laundry, changing the sheets nearly every day because of my crazy milk supply, and just functioning in general!)
one time, my mother in law had taken me to a doctors appointment (because i still couldn't drive). when i got home i was a wreck. i went to the bathroom and bled on our white bathroom rug and then i had to nurse leif, which at the time was like asking me to lead the entire nation in a prayer meeting. i was very stressed out, sitting in the nursery trying to figure out how i could accomplish one thing that would make me feel better since everything else was a fiery disaster. my mother in law had been kind enough to clean the blood off of the rug for me and she came in and asked if there was anything else she could do for me before she left.
i couldn't help myself. deep down i heard all of the wisdom of new-mothers-past whispering in my ears; when people ask what they can do for you, be honest and tell them what would help.
and yes, you guessed it... i asked her to sweep my floors.
i just knew if they were cleaner, i would feel better.
and seriously, i could have kissed her feet for sweeping them. (still could)
she turned my whole day around with a broom and a dust pan.
i'm still so grateful for that kind gesture of hers. she'll probably never understand what that meant to my fragile little self on that day.
4.) strangely, in spite of kind gestures like that... i have a very hard time accepting help in any form from people. some of this has to do with my control issues. when leif was born people were helping by folding my towels and putting them away, folding his diapers and putting them away... just little jobs they thought i would appreciate.
and i really tried to appreciate them.
really... i did.
but nobody folds my towels and puts them away the way i do. and only a handful of people know how to fold the diapers and stack them the way i like. so, if you are kind enough to do these things for me, i'll appreciate your gesture... but i can only live a day or two before refolding and restacking these two items. but don't worry too much, because i'll feel guilty the whole time. i can feel my husband's eyes boring into the back of my neck as i busily refold things and i can hear him thinking they are just towels and diapers, woman! let it go. but i know he is very particular about other things like the exact cup he drinks from for each beverage he consumes, water spots on the bathroom sink and how to hang his clothes... so he can't be too hard on me.
the other reason i can't accept help is because i feel like i need to be independent all of the time. i think this is a trait i've picked up on from my mom, because my dad travelled for work most of my life so she was responsible for everything. just the other day i was getting stuff ready for my thirty-one mailing, working on washing and drying diapers, cleaning the kitchen (duh) and getting ready to leave for a lunch date with a dear friend of mine. i already felt like a champ because i had asked for help (gasp) by seeing if kjaer could return something to costco he was unhappy with and pick up a few items there. but i wanted to handle the rest... i was going to go to kinkos to run copies for my mailing, pick up more laundry soap (we have to buy a special kind for our diapers) and go to lunch. kjaer very kindly took my copy and asked me how many copies he could make for me while i was out to lunch and i practically snatched it from his hands exclaiming i can do it, you don't have to. kjaer kind of stood there shell-shocked because he was just trying to be nice, after all, and here i was not letting him be nice to me. i could tell from the look on his handsome brow that he couldn't understand why i wouldn't just accept his kind gesture and just let him help me out.
and then i found myself back peddling... copies are no big deal, i'll be going right by the kinkos store on the way home, blah, blah, blah. but the whole time i was b.s.-ing i was thinking, what the heck is wrong with you? you always complain how overwhelmed you are and here this man is trying to let you have an enjoyable afternoon with your friend while he shows his love for you by doing errands for you and watching leif.
it's a sickness, i suppose. very unhealthy.
i definitely need to improve upon this before baby k2 arrives, because i'll need more help than ever and kjaer is my teammate.
when i asked kjaer the other night about my quirks (because i was thinking about this blog) and i mentioned this one... he whole-heartedly agreed. the speed in which his agreement came almost validated how bad i really must be.
i'm working on it, people... really.
5) i'm terrified of antiperspirant and microwaves. this has only developed in the last couple of years, i'm pretty sure because i witnessed the horrific cancer death of my father. as i've walked away from that experience, much stronger and wiser in many ways... i've also walked away with several fears. the biggest one being that i will get... or someone i love will (again) get... cancer. if somebody i love has a weird sore or something weird going on (like when trooper was sick this summer) i go into crazy-cancer mode. (just ask kjaer about the time he found me laying on troopers dog bed with him crying because i was sure he was dying of cancer... maybe i'll save that for another blog).
of course, i do the only logical thing... i blame it on antiperspirants and microwaves... even though there are sooooo many factors at stake (and clearly trooper doesn't wear deodorant... although his food IS by the microwave). actually, i have to say i've always been a little teensy bit jumpy around microwaves. that probably started back in the day of disney afternoons with my brothers after school. we'd make snacks and watch tailspin and gummy bears while waiting for my aunt to come home to watch us. one day i got the bright idea to microwave chocolate chips on a mound of peanut butter covered in tin foil. apparently no one informed me about metal in microwaves. well, a spark was thrown and i turned off the microwave faster than... well, i don't know... but fast enough that everyone and everything was ok. when i called my mom at work to tell her of said spark, she quickly schooled me on microwave safety and probably breathed an audible sigh of relief that her daughter didn't burn down her house with her other more well behaved children inside.
so ever since then i haven't trusted those things.
when leif was born, my microwave conspiracy theory heightened. every morning when i made my oatmeal before work, i would press start and take leif into another room... or at least scooch his high chair AWAY from that side of the room. i'm particularly scared of kjaer's microwave i inherited through marriage, as it has the tendency to scorch something if you cook it the recommended way. i have to cook it at reduced power (80%) for everything.
i knew my aversion to microwaves had gone too far when i casually brought up said fear to my dear martha after dragging leif's high chair across the floor to nuke my coffee before leaving for work. (see? we even say "nuke"... shouldn't that tell us all something?) she kind of giggled at me. then i proceeded to tell her i never prepared any of leif's food in the microwave. i could tell she knew i was on board the crazy train when she asked if i prepared food for myself in the microwave and i responded... "well... yes..." we both sort of laughed and i told her that in THIS particular case, it was better off left as "if i don't know about it, i won't care." thereby giving her full reign of the microwave. as long as we both understood that i didn't want to know because i knew i'd go a little crazy thinking about my little dudes brains getting "nuked".
this is around the same time my armpits began to get sore in the lymph node region. i'd sigh and toss and turn at night worrying that i had cancer of the armpits because of my deodorant. i'd google cancer findings on antiperspirant and scare the crap out of myself every time i'd read something else about it. i'd rub my armpits and exclaim i had cancer to kjaer every day. i couldn't understand why, when i went to buy kjaer's deodorant, HE could get it without antiperspirant and still smell like a dream by the end of the day... but the ENTIRE aisle of women's deodorant was antiperspirant ONLY. i mean... i guess that just lends itself to the whole pressure of society on how perfect women have to be because they AREN'T EVEN ALLOWED TO PERSPIRE! we started shopping for deodorant's without aluminum at health food stores, trying to find one that left me feeling as fresh as possible. all i have to say about this endeavor is although my friends and family never said anything about my smell... i still felt not-so-fresh. so i'd cheat and use my secret lavender which was chock full of aluminum and then spend all day worrying that i'd have cancer. it was and is a vicious cycle.
now that i work part time i wear my antiperspirant on days that i work and on days that i don't i use the crappy deodorant that doesn't work nearly as good as my husbands (don't ask me why) because usually on those days it's just him, leif and the people i run into at the grocery store who have to see me... and i don't know about you but they don't hug me when i pay for my groceries, so i'm ok with not smelling like a goddess on those days. i still worry about my three days of using (sometimes 4), but figure that less exposure is better than 24/7 exposure.
6.) i have a terrible aversion to any sort of light after i've gone to bed. i learned this after living with my dear husband... who wakes up in the middle of the night, goes out to the kitchen, turns on a light, eats a bowl of cereal, comes back to bed and is back asleep in no time. he does the same thing when he goes to the bathroom. i mean, we're talking direct exposure to light, people!!
i just can't even make sense of him!
i'd be laying in our dark room and the light in the kitchen would go on... i'd practically arch my back like a pissed off cat and hiss. if light even touches my irises, i'm doomed. i'm awake.
for this reason alone, i mentally map out every environment i sleep in so that i can find my way to the bathroom, use said bathroom, and return back to bed without touching a single switch. in some places (like my home) i've even done part of my bathroom trek with my eyes closed because of a nightlight or kitchen light that i thought was too offensive. when leif was a newborn i could change his diaper in the dark or by light of a cell phone. only on very rare occasions would i reach around the doorway into another room to turn that light on and close the door almost all of the way so that i could have a sliver of light to see with... although, i would have fallen asleep standing up in broad daylight during those days as i was so exhausted. don't know what i was so worried about. it must be that it isn't even the falling back asleep factor, which sometimes plays a big part. it's also just the sight of light when it's SUPPOSED to be dark. it's just bad for business.
i'm so bad that before leif was born, when kjaer would be going into our closet to get clothes early in the morning for himself he'd have to say "LIGHTS" and i would cover my head with a pillow until i heard the switch go off. (he's up about an hour before me). even now that kjaer and i have been living together for several years, he's so good at getting up and getting what he needs in the dark, shutting the door behind him and then turning the bathroom light on. i still can manage to lay there, bothered by the light coming from under the doorway.
the weirdest part about this is that i was terrified of the dark as a little girl. in fact, i had to sleep with the hall light on until i was in the 8th grade. is that even normal? i always figured that most kids got over that fear earlier than i did.
7.) sometimes, when i run by myself... i count. it's hard to explain and it's been such a long while since i've actually been able to run long enough to get into a rhythm (sigh)... but it's like i count my steps and breathing and how they synch up together. it sounds, if i remember correctly, a little like one-un-un, two-oo-oo, three-ee-ee, one-un-un, two-oo-oo, three-ee-ee. don't ask me to explain anymore... it gives me a rhythm, keeps my feet moving and my mind off of the work i'm doing.
well... there you have it. my quirks. those things you probably wouldn't know unless you were a fly on the wall. and yes, i realize that i originally wanted to tell you 5 but then the 6th and 7th ones sort of just jumped onto the page. i can count, i just can't stop blabbering on about myself!
but now i'm curious.
i know we all have these little things others might find odd... so let me hear yours... if you dare.
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