I have expensive tastes

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . October 6, 2011 . 6:34PM

My car decided to get frisky with another car this morning. Luckily for both of us, I’m not hurt, just sore and the other guy is just fine. His fender is a little scratched, whereas my hood is popped and unhappy. What a morning!

In my 32 years, I’ve never been directly in a car accident. I once hit a parked car (I know, I know) and the guy was super nice about it. I remember being in a minor accident in high school as a freshman with a senior driving and a car full of girls, but nothing that required the amount of work that went into today. After an hour on the phone with my insurance company, a trip to the body shop that made me wince, and a call to the rental company, a smiling man came to pick me up and get me to sign paperwork that said I’d be in one of their sleek vehicles for four days while my beloved Betty (my Honda) would get some much needed TLC at the body shop.

The sweet boy at the rental company turned on his charm and asked if I’d like a free upgrade. I just shrugged and said, “Oh, that’s ok. Whatever you’ve got me in is fine as long as it’ll drive. I’m really, really low maintenance” You’d have thought I’d told him he was going to jail. His face fell and he said, “No, no, no. You are supposed to be excited that I am putting you in a sweet little volvo for the next few days.” Having never driven a volvo, I suppose I missed the treat this was supposed to be so I missed the chance to make my rental agent happy.

As I slid behind the steering wheel and adjusted the seat I simply couldn’t wait to get home.

Then I started driving the car.

I’ve found my next car. Wow, that thing is smooth and no Volvo isn’t paying me to say this and clearly they aren’t giving me a freebie. When Betty dies in 5-6 years, I’m getting one of these. Probably very used, but it’s going to be worth it. The thought makes my sore back and jittery nerves just a little bit better.

Why sometimes it is better to give in to the small things

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . July 17, 2011 . 6:43PM

As I noted in the post prior to this one, this summer has been little fun for me and, really, for anyone living in this household. Stress and tension are overwhelming and even our mini-vacation back to Illinois was more stress and tension and what felt like a lot of pressure in what was supposed to be an easy-going week back home. AJ and I have been struggling to find our way this summer and it feels like we are navigating in a pressure cooker. I have been sensitive to this in the past week and have really been trying to get both of us out of the house and doing things to alleviate some of this build-up.

Lately, for at least two hours a day, I have studied for a test that is coming up next weekend. So, instead of letting him do other things, I asked AJ to come to the library with me and read a book that he has enjoyed in recent weeks. Generally, this would provoke whining and upset, but because of the melancholic timbre of the summer this very peculiar year, he has been delighted to sit in the cool, quiet alcove of the well-lit library on their comfortable leather couches and soak in the atmosphere of the library. When he heard we would not be going yesterday, because it was Saturday and they’d be closing early, he was disappointed that he would not finish his book in the calm demeanor he’d become accustomed.

I have not lavishly spoiled him to make up for the loss of a summer of fun. AJ isn’t entitled to a summer of fun just for being a kid. There are parents that will disagree with me on that statement, but the truth of the matter is that no one is entitled to anything other than safety, love, a full belly and a warm/cool place to sleep. I give my child all of those things, lots of attention and affection, plenty of cool gadgets and he does get to do fun things, but he doesn’t go on lavish vacations and we don’t spend a lot of money making sure every single day overstimulates him to the point where I no longer like who he is as a person. When I meet a parent who does, I often find it difficult to be friendly with both the parent and the child because of the expectations they have as to how people will treat them; Rather, how they feel they are entitled to be treated.

Besides studying yesterday, I planned a small outing to the Nashville Farmer’s Market. I’d never been and AJ and I had gone to the adorable one near our house the other day. He’d studied a pattypan squash and liked it because it looked like a UFO. He’d picked up several other vegetables that I could not identify, to his amusement and to my dismay. I thought that, perhaps, a trip to the market where he could look to his heart’s delight and I could learn about the vegetables might be fun for both of us. They also had a flea market and AJ loves to look at trinkets. Garage sales may be his favorite events on earth.

When we got there, I handed AJ the $6 he’d earned by doing chores every day this week and told him that he could spend it, but carefully and not on junk. Immediately, he focused on a large adults watch with a disastrous amount of bling and a large money sign on it. It was a glowing green color and also came with a large $$ necklace. I bit my lip and hoped that it would be too expensive. Despite my better judgment, I told him he could not ask how much it was and pulled him away from the bling ensemble. As we continued to walk around, he found another necklace he desperately wanted. It was hematite, shiny, and looked like it had a shark’s tooth attached to it. It was gaudy and awful and I knew he wanted it more than anything. Again, against my better judgment, I told him he could not ask how much it was.

My inability to understand his want of shiny, blingy jewelry was too much. His jaw set, he marched ahead of me to the food market and the day was ruined. The shark necklace might have been $2. We continued to argue about it for the next hour. As I picked up tomatoes, peaches, cucumbers and oranges, I thought to myself and wondered if the argument was truly worth it. The money was his and while I knew he’d be happy when he’d saved enough to buy a larger toy, AJ is 10 years old. He wants immediate gratification despite the costs. Even though I’d explained that I did what I thought was best, was it worth the cost? Was the loss of that necklace worth the upset between us and the upset of our day together? The event was planned to offset some of the negativity of the summer. Surely, if he wanted a $2 necklace that he was going to buy with his own money, it wasn’t worth this.

I made a mistake. Adults do it. We decide we know what’s best and we hold firm to in the idea of good parenting practices. Usually, in this vein, we are correct in what we are doing and it is better for our children. However, “don’t sweat the small stuff” is a cliche for a reason, as are all cliches. In this case, my not giving in hurt AJ’s decision-making process and our camaraderie for the day. In the big scheme of things, was that necklace important? To me, it wasn’t. To him, it was. To us, it was. Giving in would have made the difference in how he felt about our time together. We had a large discussion about how material things should not affect our time together and how arguments do. Ultimately, I think we both learned a lot.

Next time, I’ll do better. A small thing is a small thing and day-ruining arguments are best saved for the things that really matter.

Summer is no fun

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . July 12, 2011 . 3:26PM

At some point this summer, I recognized that my stress levels were a little overwhelming to me. I haven’t been writing in my blog. I’ve been consumed with studying for yet another standardized test that is required for me to prove myself. I cannot count the number of those I’ve had to take over the years of education and I am still anxious about taking them. I’m still working on internship stuff and that is on top of other things that are occurring.

It came to a head today when I looked at the happy meal I’d purchased for lunch and squinted at it while thinking, “You’d better do what you say you do.”

Placing my hopes on that happy meal to make my day go better was an irrational thought, but, at the time, it was something under my control. At this juncture, there are many things outside of my control that directly affect my future and frustrating isn’t the word for how that feels to me. What this also tells me is that I need to spend some time relaxing, once I do take this test and get it finished.

I tried to re-write the last part of this post about 30 times. Nothing felt authentic or right. So, I’ll just say that this summer has been “no fun” and I long for the days that I enjoyed my summer days. I long for the days not so long ago that I had motivation and time to write in my blog or things to write about other than how busy I am studying or working. For now, it is my life. Not always and not forever.

A tisket a tasket

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 17, 2011 . 8:04PM

Every now and then, when I feel a lot of stress or pressure, I find myself reciting old nursery rhymes in my head. Mother Goose was a favorite when I was a child and I may not be able to remember entire stories, but a phrase here and there will pop up like a jack in the box during particularly frustrating moments of the day. At a red light. When someone cuts in front of me in line. When I need to use the restroom and someone is taking their sweet time in there.

As a child, I never realized how important those little routines were to me, although the adults around me must have, being that I likely threw a fit when I didn’t have my routines on a daily basis. As a child, you only know that you want what you want and you don’t always know why. Sometimes I feel that way as an adult as well. I want what I want and I don’t know why.

Routine is still important to my well-being and I still find myself using my routine as a measure of comfort. The days that I step off of my routine I find myself feeling out of sorts and irritable and “jack and jill” and “humpty dumpty” may start running through my head as I pull in deep breaths and try to clear my mind. Today is one of those days. Exercise has become part of my daily routine and I never thought I’d say that. Today, however, I woke up still exhausted. It happens about one or two days a month that I wake up still tired enough to go straight back to bed. I’m guessing it’s a chemical flux and that it’s my body’s way of telling me to take a day to relax.

Regardless of what I want on those days, I have no choice. I’m so fatigued that my routine is out the window. I’m used to it on my chronic pain/migraine days, but on the sheer fatigue days, I cannot resolve myself because I want what I want when I want it. Spoiled and childish, to be sure, but it’s my ROUTINE. It’s what calms me. And today, I can’t have it.

Loss and coping

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 2, 2011 . 6:16PM

As he walked through the door with the largest pink flower I’d ever seen, he grinned and talked about how he’d found it on the ground and wasn’t it beautiful? It truly was. Fragrant and bulbous and clearly picked from the yard of one our neighbors. He’d taken to doing this lately and though he’d been grilled about this action and reprimanded, his reasons for doing it were altruistic and it hurt my heart to yell at him once again.

Often, he’d walk up to me and proffer the flowers for his “amazing, wonderful mama,” but lately the flowers had been for our turtle, Petey. He’d recently discovered that flowers were a delicacy for Petey and the more fragrant the flower the more Petey would tear into it with relish. Petey tended towards a grumpy nature and would rarely open his eyes for anything more than what appeared to be a piratey “Argh” when he was prodded, so to see him come out of his shell, literally, to eat that flower with gusto was a sight for AJ to behold. We’d stand around Petey’s pen and watch him eat and imagine that the flowers put him in a better mood.

Last night, though, I’d been at my friend Bryan’s house until late. When I came home, I immediately checked in on Petey, as I do frequently throughout the day. I noticed that he was splayed in a fashion that was unnatural to him and picked him up to check on him. When he didn’t open his eyes to glare at me, it occurred to me that something was terribly wrong. His little limbs didn’t move and prodding him didn’t change his posture. Petey was gone.

Lately he’d been lethargic and I’d attributed it to the changing seasons. I’d taken him outside a couple of days earlier for some sunshine and even that time in the sun and shade hadn’t perked him up. His shell had become flimsy and, after looking at some information online, it became apparent to me that he’d had a disease that we hadn’t caught. Because AJ was sleeping, and Petey couldn’t stay in the cage like that, he was laid to rest in the creek behind the house. I didn’t want AJ to wake up without his turtle and not know why, so I woke him up and gently told him the news. He checked on Petey often and had I not told him, he would have been startled to not find him.

He was confused, but I thought he understood what I was telling him. I was wrong.

Oh, my sweet boy. My sensitive child.

When he took Sophie for a walk this afternoon and brought home that pink flower with the biggest grin he could muster, I never once considered Petey. He walked up to the fireplace mantle, where we kept Petey’s cage, looked at me and arched his eyebrow slightly.

“Mom, where did you put Petey?”

Oh no.

I explained to him that I’d told him last night that Petey had passed away. The most terrible look crossed his face and I will not forget his words. “But, what will I do with this flower now? I brought it home for him to eat. He loves flowers.”

I was at a loss, but told him to put it in a bowl and put it on Petey’s spot on the mantle. He did and silently went to the couch where he looked at it for a moment and his face crumbled. He was upset that he didn’t get to say goodbye so we went down to the creek and he placed the flower in it and said his goodbyes. He’s understandably confused about why turtles have to die and what happens to turtles when they die and whether or not he will see his turtle friend again.

Ultimately, I think the main question we face when we lose someone we love is did we love them enough? Did they feel our love? Did they know what they meant to us? In this case, did this turtle know he was a beloved turtle to a 10-year old boy who loved his grumpy little face enough to face punishment for stealing the neighbors flowers on a regular basis so that turtle could have a delicious treat? Because, after all, we make sacrifices for those we love. Make no mistake, that turtle was loved. But did he know it?

It may seem a little ridiculous to wonder if a turtle felt loved or not, but it doesn’t feel ridiculous to me nor does it feel ridiculous to AJ. Everyday, Petey was part of our day and he made our lives better. Many people I know are grieving right now and I see the questions in their face as to whether or not the person or thing they are grieving felt their love or knew what was given for that relationship.

We all want to feel loved. I wonder if any of us know the true extent of how much we really are adored? If this turtle was enough to break an adult and a child, how much more so are we to those around us?

RIP little one