Pansyiana: October 2003 Archives

I got an email yesterday saying our homeschooling group is having an All Saint's Party on Saturday in Fonda. Ack, I so do not have any costumes ready because I did not know there would be a party this year until yesterday. Anybody have any ideas for quick, cheap and easy saint costume ideas. I have a ten year old girl whose favourite saint is St. Agnes and eight year old boy and four year old boy. I am going to spare the baby and adults.

for Jeanetta and myself and anyone else in Upstate NY.Once those temps hit like "Today's High is 32 degrees" Pansy Moss does not leave home.

The weather is so different here than it was 4 hours south in New Jersey. Summer does not hit until like the very end of June, and the first week of September it is Fall. But I have to say, autumn up here is breathtaking. All I can say is "just friggin beautiful"!

Our farm is located in the Mohawk Valley, about 15 miles west of the North American Martyrs Shrine where Bl. Kateri was baptised and St. Isaac Jogues was martyred. His body was thrown in the Mohawk River, so I think that makes the river Holy Water?? Not sure. I also live not far from where Bl. Kateri was born.

It is funny, because when you are originally from downstate NY, the City to be more specific, it is like an entirely different country. People leave NY City and travel the world to seek out beautiful places without realising how lovely it is a few hours northwest.

Gorbulas giggles in his sleep. I wonder what he dreams about. I am happy that he has pleasant dreams.

Rosey Posey asked me "Mom, what are leg warmers?"
"Are you watching something from the early eighties? They keep your legs warm."
"Yes, that girl working out was wearing leg warmers. I don't get it, why not wear pants and your legs will stay warm."
"Well, not if you are working out."
"Then wear tights. They look funny."
"Hey, when I was your age I had leg warmers in every colour!"
"Mom, you are scaring me."

Fastolph and Posco were playing their own version of hide and seek:
Fastolph:Scooby-Doo, where are you?
Posco: (voice distant in another room)Rover rere!

A couple of months ago, I blogged about a sort of "Dark Night of the Soul" I was going through and I am ashamed to say it has not gotten better, but has gotten worse. I am ashamed because I know better, that my relationship with God can only be repaired by my actions, ashamed because I know logically God is there and is there for me, ashamed because I know faith is not merely about feel good emotions and the first time I am not "feeling good", I am dropping the ball, and ashamed because the events in my life-well I have so much to be grateful and thankful for. Look at poor Terri, she was abused and the courts cannot even defend her, but have sentenced her to a slow painful death as a result. Man, I do not even have the words to describe how horrible that is. So if I know so much better, why are my emotions towards God so out of whack?

I was wondering if I am angry at God because of the events of the past summer (Gorbulas being hospitalized, marital woes and a bunch of other stuff) and the answer is no, not angry, but sort of numb. I think I have had a few breaks through. I have been very stressed over Gorbulas' asthma. On Monday he came down with sniffles. I was determined to do everything I can to avert an asthma attack. I started with his nebuliser every four hours around the clock. I began with his Pulmocort every twelve hours. Three days after treatment, he had a minor asthma attack, despite the Singulair, Pulmocort and albuterol around the clock. I realised it is out of my hands. I thought I had control over it, but I do not. I was just giving myself a headache when I should have been giving it to God. Not that I should not do everything I can, but I have been losing much sleep over trying to figure out ways to avert another asthma attack to no avail. This may sound terrible, but I have been able to trust in God's Providence in giving souls to me, perhaps I should trust in Him when it comes to taking them back? No, I am so not planning on sending any souls back to God at all, I am just saying that I can only do what I can do, which I will continue to do but I should leave the rest to Him.

I just have been so numb for so many months, I do not know how to get back to that. If a prayer can be spared, it would be appreciated. I think my husband has been at this place a little longer than I have. This scares me because one of us has to fight for the family on a spiritual leve, and neither one of us seems to be.

I am lacking in some sort of vitamin. I feel like yuck and it is not getting better. I started taking Cal Mag because my midwife told me I should watch my calcium in take, and look for signs of calcium deficiency like loose teeth. Well, that was 6 months ago at my check-up and my teeth were loose then, so I finally got around to taking Cal Mag this week. Nice, huh?

Is there anything else nursing Sleepy Mommies tend to be deficient in?

I was up feeling ill last night thinking about how horrible it must be for poor Terri right now. It takes 7-10 days to starve to death. I was up anyway giving Gorbulas nebulizer treatments because he has a cold and is quite wheezy. But this was on the forefront my mind. I still do not understand any of this. Where is the feminist movement to back up a woman being mistreated by her husband and our current institutions?

When I went to sleep, I dreamt that I met up with Peony, and we did this covert operation thing and rescued Terri. (Peony was wearing a long black trench coat in my dream.) I hope our prayer efforts are more effective.

I spent all of my twenties waiting to finally feel like a grown up. I figured when I was thirty I would, but I don't, just feel like an old kid. Throughout my twenties, my husband and I were the only ones I knew married with children, so I missed out on that "valuable" carefree twenty something living that everyone on TV is doing. Well, OK, not really. But I think I am too sleepy. I am always in this befuddled brain fog and walking into walls from lack of sleep.

Anyway, if you watch TV, being in your twenties and early thirties (if you are not a teen) is supposed to be the prime of your life. No prime, too sleepy. I am thinking 53 may be a better age. My parents are like 53. My father has the energy again to get up at like 5 to go running. For years I got up at 4.30 am to work-out, and as soon as I hit my thirtieth birthday, that last bit of energy to do so disappeared. So I think I would like to be 53. I wonder if when I am 53, will I feel like a bone fide adult, or still feel like an old kid?

About four years ago, we purchased Rosey Posey a My Twinn doll. For a few years each birthday and Christmas, Rosey Posey and Mini Rosey Posey would receive a matching outfit complete with shoes and so on. I am wondering if the doll was more of a choice for Mom than Rosey Posey because more often than not, the doll is lying on my daughter's bedroom floor, her head backwards, hair all askew and not in one of her lovely little outfits, but her hospital gown (if you send the doll for any repairs, which we have done, they send it back in a hospital gown). The doll always looks as though it was out all night partying and has been admitted to the psychiatric ward. My brother, the one who I just wrote about who ran away to Sam Goody's at age eight, decided to teach my daughter a lesson by telling her what the consequences of allowing Mini Rosey Posey to lay around on the bedroom floor looking disheveled are. Warning:This is really pointless and silly stuff, so if you are not a fan of pointless and silly, I suggest you skip this.

I think it may be a good idea for you to stop Mini Rosey Posey from going to these parties and getting wasted (she's probably drunk out of her mind, passed out on the floor right now). I'm worried for her health. Just remember this: when she asks you for your car keys, just say no! She's gonna get in a fatal car accident, and it would all be your fault. Then, you'd have to live with the guilt of being responsible for her death. When that happens, you'll try to commit suicide by jumping off a bridge. You'll ALMOST succeed, but a strange guy named "The Leader" is going to save you and help you to realize the value of your life by making you a member of his cult. This cult is a group of people who live on a mountain in Colorado, residing in underground huts. You will make a pledge to eat nothing but dirt and goats, but in order to kill the goats for food, you will have to use your bare hands, because "The Leader" doesn't believe in using metal or wooden tools to kill goats. The cult will refer to you as "Wrestles With Goats." Eventually, you'll realize that this is a stupid cult and become a bum on the streets of Boise, Idaho, living off of the kindness of strangers and stolen apples. Then, you're gonna get a job working in a bowling alley, but not until you start smoking and your voice changes, because you can't work at a bowling alley unless it sounds like you have been smoking for your whole life. Upon quitting your job at the bowling alley, you'll buy clothes from 1986, make your hair really frizzy and move to Voorheesville, working at the SuperValu. In your spare time, you'll become a bus driver, and you'll forever be known as "Peggy." And this will all happened because you let Mini Rosey Posey have the keys to the Cadillac. So please take my advice. You don't want to become a Voorheesville woman.