Plastic Box

Prologue

I think the time has come to end this blog.

In the almost eight years that I've occupied this space, so much has changed with how we all stay in touch, how we share things and write things and, generally, how we exist in the virtual space. 

Eight years ago there was no Facebook, no Twitter, no iPhones. This blog was a way for me to have my own corner of the web, to reach out and talk to you, to record the goings-on of a single crafty girl making her way.  In May 2004 I wrote my first post here, and could never have predicted how it would end...married, divorced, married, mom to a gorgeous baby girl, stepmom to two more, out of the day-to-day corporate world.

In this way, I feel like Plastic Box has served its purpose: To provide a record of how dramatically unpredictable life can be. How each of our story archs, were we characters in a novel, would simply blow the reader's mind. 

But now we are all so connected in a myriad of other ways, and this blog has become something "rotary." A sort of effort that doesn't seem to fit in my world today.

And so this will be my last post, shutting down after I find a way to externally archive all of my old posts, all 500+ of them, because there are some things that fell here that I have no record of otherwise. 

Thank you, those of you who are left, who have stuck it out to read the musings of a silly girl who turned into a mother. Who read the chronicles of both my gravest mistakes and fantastic triumphs, because who are any of us without both our stumbles and our victories. 

Fa-La-La-La-Laaaa

I'm sorry, did you forget how Cute I was?

Now that we've gotten that out of the way...

It's almost Christmas (and other holidays, of course), and there is that temptation to spend randomly until we just can't spend anymore. 

And I wonder...when did we start buying just to buy?  "The kids need X many presents..." and such. WHY?? 

I'm happy (for now) to wrap up things for Daphne that she's gotten already from relatives that she hasn't been ready to play with until now. But I'd like to think...optimistically...that a "big" Christmas for her in the near future isn't going to be about the number of presents under the tree with her name on them, but the quality of what she gets.

I know,  I know. Idealistic parent. But you can shut the hell up, and quote the Baby Jesus.

And this. Because this is HOLY CUTENESS.

What I learned from the divorce

Dear Daphne,

I'm writing this letter to you, my sweet baby girl, not for the purpose of revealing details about my life prior to your birth, but so that your life has a better chance of not following the same path. I suppose that every parent has a story like this for their child, and this is mine to you.

When I was 27, I married a man named Jon.

It didn't work out.

The specifics of this are not hard to understand, but are hard for me to articulate to you without crossing the line into "too much information" coming from your mom. Suffice it to say that words were said, events occurred, and choices were made.

A wise man once said: "Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth."

So for whatever it's worth ... here is what I have learned from these choices.

Divorce.

1. However much you think this word weighs, however much you think is packed in bags to go along with it, multiply that figure by 700. It is likely that, at the first inkling of wanting to get divorced, very little is understood about the magnitude of what lies before you. 

2. If you have a house, you will fight about it. And this fight, money, stress, and responsibility could carry on for years. 

3. Someone out in the world, possibly even long after the divorce is final, will hate you. With a capital HATE. This may sound easy to reconcile, but there will be days that you won't want to look at yourself in the mirror. 

4. You will have to move again. And you'll realize it's still as much of a pain in the ass as it was when you were in college.

5. You will lose all of your money. One way or another, you will have to use every financial resource  to start over. But there is a new future ahead, just you wait. 

6. Love is still out there, for both of you. And when it comes along, you will do everything in your power to never have to go through divorce again. Because it changes your life once, and that is enough. 

I should tell you, though, my sweet girl, that without divorce we wouldn't have you. And the best thing I learned from the divorce is that regret will get you nowhere. That life will surprise you even on your darkest days, to give you your brightest light. 

Love,

mom

Keeping up with the Narcissists

Don't call Child Services on me until I can explain, but yes...the TV is often on in our household.

 During the day while I'm working at my desk in the bedroom, Daphne is on the bed, boxed in safely with pillows, playing with toys and/or napping. While she's doing the latter, I put the TV on for background noise. And what is on during the day, you ask? Reality. TV. And more....Reality. TV.

It got me thinking this morning, as I flipped past yet another repeat of Kardashians, more Housewives of Some Random City, that current "reality TV" is a far cry from whence it first began. I remember watching Eric and Julie and the  other cast members on MTV's The Real World in 1992, my little 8th grade self peeking into the lives of  strangers thrown together in a New York City apartment.

Few of us could have predicted that in 15 years, reality TV would make up the majority of the airwaves (40% overall, and a whopping 90% of all cable channels' programming). It has become, as one journalist put it, a generation's "most influential, most prolific, most dynamic cultural product."  How depressing is that?

But we're not watching the real lives of real people anymore. We're watching the lives of people whose job it is to be on TV. There's product placement, directors, and hours of hair and makeup. Do you really think Kim Kardashian wakes up looking like that? Okay, maybe she does, but those Real Housewives sure look like they have benefited from some time in the chair.

There is very little that is "real" about most of these shows...except maybe Hillbilly Handfishin'. Those dudes seem pretty passionate about them there catfish. And there's a new show set to debut on the History Channel called Hairy Bikers. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.

It's sending all sorts of bad messages (insert obvious reference to KK's 72-day marriage), and unrealistic standards of living, but hot diggity damn if it isn't addictive! I need an intervention. Or maybe a boxed set of vintage Sesame Street. I think Daphne and I would both get a kick out of that...until she's ready for Buffy and Angel. ;)

To lighten the mood...

Here is what makes all of this bearable. The knowledge that THIS little face looks up to me every day and that she is going to grow up to be an amazing person (taped-up piggy face and all). :)

 

 

Reaching out

I'm in need of miracles. In a way that I don't think I'd ever thought that I would need them.

What keeps me going some days is the knowledge that all of this, too, shall pass (drowning in a house with my ex that we can't sell, being sued over an old apartment lease that I thought was settled, scraping by as a freelancer so that I can stay home with our daughter, leaky roofs, hospital bills...the list goes on).

Sometimes it feels like I'm being punished for the things I've done and the choices I've made, and the small part of me that used to understand and accept this penance is FED UP. Enough is enough.

In need of prayers that everything will be okay.

Amen.

One of the Postsecrets from last Sunday.

 

Dog-eared handheld

I know I already posted this on Facebook, but I just love the author's way of writing about this topic so much that I wanted to share it again. And technically being a librarian, I'm a bit biased.

Of course I think the Kindle (and such) are space-saving, economical ways to tote thousands of books with you when you're on the go. Whatever gets people to read, count me as a fan. But ain't nothin' compares to the smell of an actual book, the feel of pages between your fingers, the site of them piled by the bed.

And what the author says too ... that there's something still superior to the way you can deal with a book, handle it, control it to your own individual experience. Sometimes we should think of "technology" outside the bounds of a screen and some plastic keys.

Long live the codex!

Annoying photo update

I know this is redundant for those of you on Facebook, but for my family & pals who only visit ye ol' blog and (gasp!) don't have Facebook accounts, I feel the need to remind....

....of the CUTENESS.

We all went to the Air Show today in the 100-degree heat, and on Tuesday, Daphne will go in for her first set of immunizations. Not looking forward to that part, but am eager to see what she weighs now. I think she's gonna have mommy's thighs...just sayin.

To clarify, I'm not at ALL faulting moms or trying to say that having a C-section is somehow "less" of a birth experience. My concern is over the incredibly rising C-section rates and the reasons behind them, many of which are brought on by medicines designed to speed up a natural process. It's a vicious cycle and a valid point that was NOT meant to offend anyone's individual experience.