Flammable

The Crazy is really getting me.

I don't want to be writing about it all the time and sounding like a total nutcase, but I kind of am, so I'm gonna throw it all up right here and now and I won't promise that I won't write about it again tomorrow. I don't seem to have anyone to really vent on right this minute, so you all are gonna have to take one for the team.

I came across a term that made me snort tea out my nose. It just seemed so appropriate in an inappropriate and completely nonsensical sort of way. Also, I'm very much not in the habit of using language of poor taste, but in this case...

Okay, here it is. "Batshit crazy". It made me laugh, because I am part March Hare.

Evidently, it's not a senseless term said without reason. Guano, or bat poop, is highly flammable. If a person goes into a cave where bats are known to reside and takes a torch to light his way, he's said to be "batshit crazy" because he's gonna blow himself to kingdom come. (Ha. You didn't know THAT, did you? You just never know what you're gonna get around here.)

Not that I feel like taking fire with me while spelunking in a bat cave or anything. It's just that I'm a bit barmy these days and the idea struck me as funny.

It's cabin fever.

We three loons are all cooped up here together in this house, cozy and well-stocked as it is. We're clamping down ever more on spending, so that means, among other things, not driving. So Nathan is home. All the time. He doesn't have any outside work right now anyway, because, heck, who does?, AND he has extra church work to do because it's Lent and we have a service on Wednesday each week. So not only is he home all the time, but he's studying all the time. Here in the house. He can occasionally lock himself in the office, but the office gets kinda cold, so I certainly don't blame him for sitting by the fire with his work.

Problem is, Jonah wants to chatter at Daddy, ask Daddy questions, and Daddy, will you play with me? All day. Daddy needs to concentrate for very long periods of time, but Jonah forgets this very quickly. I can hardly blame him, either. He's 4. He has a pressing need to talk a lot and learn a lot. If it's just him and me, he can chatter at me all he wants (until I tell him I need to not talk for a few minutes, but then it's just that-- a few minutes) and I can engage or not. This is what he's used to. He's getting better at understanding when Daddy needs to work, and Nathan has made a habit of making some play time available every day, usually for a while before supper. But still. I feel like I have to be keeping Jonah from bugging Nathan while he's working, and I feel like I also have to try to head off the inevitable conflicts that are bound to arise occasionally and usually involve a certain amount of crying and... noise.

And the fact is, I just have trouble really accomplishing anything when Nathan is in the house. I really don't know why this is. You'd think I could just go about my day, but having him here all the time just changes the dynamic enough that I get a little unmoored. Maybe it's because I'm in the habit of giving him my attention, whether passively or actively, when he's here, so I can't quite disengage from that when he's here all the time. I dunno. I hate to even admit to all this, because it sounds horrid of me. It's definitely not him, it's me. And maybe I am horrid, but I'm very used to greeting him at the door and mealtimes, feeding him, and then sending him back out to work. Then I can turn up the music and dance all over the house while I get my work done if I need to, and look forward to greeting my sweet husband again. There's just something to be said for "hello, goodbye, hello".

(I just thought I should note here the fact that, slowly but surely, Good Things are happening in my kitchen. Things which have been put off and which I have been greatly looking forward to. Things which would not be happening if Nathan were swamped with other work right now. My husband really is wonderful and he really does love me and I really am spoiled rotten. Rotten, I tell you. And therein lies my problem, I'm thinking...)

And then there's the toy situation. Most of the year, toys are widely unnecessary. A small boy can find a many days worth of activity outside with a few choice sticks. But in the winter, the toys. are. everywhere. Jonah's current general occupation involves building entire civilizations. It's great, really-- it keeps him busy and it's amazing what he can come up with given a little imagination and a range of building materials. But this usually involves building launchpads, runways, a railroad to service them, several large rockets and crawlers to carry them, the occasional sanitation plant, and then all the vehicles, aircraft, Indians and knights (you didn't know they went into space, did you?) that go along with it. The rule is that everything must be cleaned up before bedtime, with varying degrees of success. No matter what, this megametropolis is usually rebuilt first thing in the morning.

I try not to step on anything pointy.

But say I want to put my mat down on the floor and do a pilates session? Well, I have to bargain for some real estate, of course.

Oh, and that's another things. I'm trying to commit to doing some pilates a few times per week, mainly at the urgings of my midwife (and as much as I hate exercise-for-the-sake-of-exercise, I have to admit that it helps me feel better...). But I can't do it when anyone is around. I definitely can't do it while an Amish neighbor is here using the phone. I can't even do it when Nathan is studying by the fire (I banish him to the office and tell him not to come out for 25 minutes, or else). In fact, I prefer if Jonah is otherwise occupied as well, but he really prefers to exercise with me, or at lease supervise. ("Are we doing exercising today, Mommy? Remember that the midwife said 'at least three times a week!'")

I am so whiny. Really. I sound like a spoiled brat. Am I complaining? Actually complaining? That I have a sweet husband and a busy little boy who are here giving purpose to my existence? That I have work to do that I actually (generally) enjoy? Heaven forbid. I wouldn't really want to be anywhere else.

I'm just giving vent to my loose screws.

My Dad would ask if I need an attitude adjustment.

In fact, today I really did need one. Whenever Jonah is being excessively whiny, I tell him to go upstairs and lay on his bed until he can come down and be a little more cheerful. So I had to do that to myself, too. After lunch, I cleaned the kitchen, took care of a few odds and ends, baked an apple gallette in attempt to "make it up" to my guys, and then took a large cup of tea and a book up to my bed. I spend an hour and a half or so there, reading at first, but then mostly thinking and praying for a little thankfulness and joy.

I did feel better after that.

Oh, and I also ate some apple gallette and there's definitely something to be said for self-medicating with sugar and butter.

Then I made bbq meatballs and french fries (real french fries-- double deep fried in actual lard) for supper because there's also something to be said for self-medicating with greasy food. (Oh, don't worry. We ate plenty of sauerkraut with it.) And my husband enjoyed it and I think I owed it to him...

I also have a website building job to be working on, and while I'm very glad to have an actual paying job, I'm also nearly bald. It doesn't help, I'm sure, that I do it the hard way, but seriously. I don't usually have blood pressure problems like I do when I sit down to work on a website. It makes me feel a little deranged.

I got into the shower tonight, because that is my favorite refuge and I have no qualms about draining the hot water tank on days like these. Oh, and also because we have church in the morning, and it just seems good to go there with clean hair. As I stepped in, I immediately tripped over several t o y s and some sour cream containers full of icy water, evidently left there by my little boy as a booby trap for his mother.

Sigh.

Anybody got some Spring in a Bottle?