Not! Last weekend was carnaval weekend in Helsinki and next weekend is Midsummer, the biggest party of the year up here. My brother's and sister's families will be with us, which is a total treat, but there's so much to do before Friday I try not to think about it too much, just tackle one task at a time.
Wish you were here! I could use a helping hand... Oh well. For a closer look at Scandinavian solstice celebrations and summer craziness, stop by the 69 Shades blog on Saturday when I'll be talking about these longest days of the year. See you there on the 23rd! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to.
Dita Parker
Showing posts with label sleep when you're dead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleep when you're dead. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Friday, March 25, 2011
To Edward Murphy, thanks for everything, Dita Parker
Say you're putting your child to bed. Your bed, because he was feeling funny, and you felt sorry for the little guy, because you're his mom, and you love him to pieces, and you only want him to be comfortable and feel better.
Say you're finally ready to go to bed yourself after making sure everything is in order for the next day, and you're feeling a bit funny yourself because it's an important day, one you want to face sharp of dress and mind, you know?
Say you hear something that could be categorized funny if you didn't know what it is you're hearing, a series of serious coughing coming from your bedroom, and you know, you just know, that in five seconds you'll be knee-deep in the chili you cooked for dinner with dessert thrown in (read: up) for good measure.
Say that's what you're dealing with three past midnight and it will be three till one in the morning before the child is washed and clothed and calm enough to try to go back to sleep in his own bed, and your bed, well, you're thinking of burning it because how will you ever get it clean and smelling decent, and it will be two before you've done all you can so the whole house doesn't stink, and two thirty before you've set up camp in the living room and are calm enough to try to catch some sleep yourself, and three thirty before you start believing you'll never sleep again, and four o'clock in the morning when you realize you're totally and irrevocably fucked.
Oh well.
There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for my babies, and today...today's for you, sweetie darlings, so we could be together a little more, so let's hope that not everything that could go wrong necessarily heads in that direction, and wash your hands, and stop picking your noses, and if you don't know what it is, please don't put it in your mouth, okay? Okay. I think I smell coffee. I think I need it. I think it will be all right.
Say you're finally ready to go to bed yourself after making sure everything is in order for the next day, and you're feeling a bit funny yourself because it's an important day, one you want to face sharp of dress and mind, you know?
Say you hear something that could be categorized funny if you didn't know what it is you're hearing, a series of serious coughing coming from your bedroom, and you know, you just know, that in five seconds you'll be knee-deep in the chili you cooked for dinner with dessert thrown in (read: up) for good measure.
Say that's what you're dealing with three past midnight and it will be three till one in the morning before the child is washed and clothed and calm enough to try to go back to sleep in his own bed, and your bed, well, you're thinking of burning it because how will you ever get it clean and smelling decent, and it will be two before you've done all you can so the whole house doesn't stink, and two thirty before you've set up camp in the living room and are calm enough to try to catch some sleep yourself, and three thirty before you start believing you'll never sleep again, and four o'clock in the morning when you realize you're totally and irrevocably fucked.
Oh well.
There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for my babies, and today...today's for you, sweetie darlings, so we could be together a little more, so let's hope that not everything that could go wrong necessarily heads in that direction, and wash your hands, and stop picking your noses, and if you don't know what it is, please don't put it in your mouth, okay? Okay. I think I smell coffee. I think I need it. I think it will be all right.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Utter nutter
That pretty much sums up my year, dearest denizens. It's been a real roller coaster one, and I'm not talking about the junior variety. It's been more like a monster of a complete-circuit ride where the ups had me going "Made it, Ma! Top of the world!" and the downs, well, the downs simply had me screaming for her.
And I have cried, sweetie darlings, more in one year than the last ten years combined. Of immense joy and happiness, of utter sorrow and misery. I would be lying if I told you I wasn't in dire need of a breather, a chance of maybe not thinking of anything much, of not feeling twelve ways at once. No such luck in the immediate future, but there is hope on the horizon.
I have some two hundred and thirty-four things I have to wrap up before X-mas, seventy-six and a half more to see to before the 16th of January, but that 16th... That's my doughnut, dearest denizens, and everything else... The hole? And what do we focus on, hmmm? Anybody? Ze doughnut, not ze hole, yes?
I have learned some interesting things about myself during the past thirty something years. For instance, in moments of measly meltdowns, colossal catastrophes and every degree of calamity in between, I act. I don't freeze, I don't panic, I get busy, and let me tell you, that has come handy many, many times. Need to get me to do something? Bring out the cattle prod, aggravate me some and see Dita run.
So keeping my sights on that doughnut, horrendously pissed off at the driver who ran into me on Monday, smashed my door in and gave me the gift of one more thing to take care of, seriously contemplating having the car painted neon pink and purchasing a mile-long feather boa, the driving gloves and some head accessory the Mad Hatter would be proud of to accompany said glowing, glaring automobile so that no idiot ever again can claim that "I didn't see you...", and, let's face it, what woman wants to be inconspicuous to the point of invisibility, it doesn't feel like 234 and 76 plus one things to do, sweetie darlings, it's a... Junior roller coaster ride?
Aren't I the Queen of Stupid Analogies... The three of you are giving up on me now, aren't you? Before you go, do swing by my Facebook profile for some final insults to your intelligence in the form of 25 things you probably didn't need or want to know about yours truly madly deeply but Adele Dubois asked and who am I to decline such a lovely lady.
What happens on January 16th, you ask? If you're still there. If I didn't lose you when the feather boa came out. Or the whole business with the cattle prod. I usher my family out the door, leave winter apparel and worries alike behind, and board a flying machine to Salvador, Brazil, where my biggest headache will be the pool or the beach? A caipirinha or a diet Coke? Oh dear. Decisions, decisions.
And I have cried, sweetie darlings, more in one year than the last ten years combined. Of immense joy and happiness, of utter sorrow and misery. I would be lying if I told you I wasn't in dire need of a breather, a chance of maybe not thinking of anything much, of not feeling twelve ways at once. No such luck in the immediate future, but there is hope on the horizon.
I have some two hundred and thirty-four things I have to wrap up before X-mas, seventy-six and a half more to see to before the 16th of January, but that 16th... That's my doughnut, dearest denizens, and everything else... The hole? And what do we focus on, hmmm? Anybody? Ze doughnut, not ze hole, yes?
I have learned some interesting things about myself during the past thirty something years. For instance, in moments of measly meltdowns, colossal catastrophes and every degree of calamity in between, I act. I don't freeze, I don't panic, I get busy, and let me tell you, that has come handy many, many times. Need to get me to do something? Bring out the cattle prod, aggravate me some and see Dita run.
So keeping my sights on that doughnut, horrendously pissed off at the driver who ran into me on Monday, smashed my door in and gave me the gift of one more thing to take care of, seriously contemplating having the car painted neon pink and purchasing a mile-long feather boa, the driving gloves and some head accessory the Mad Hatter would be proud of to accompany said glowing, glaring automobile so that no idiot ever again can claim that "I didn't see you...", and, let's face it, what woman wants to be inconspicuous to the point of invisibility, it doesn't feel like 234 and 76 plus one things to do, sweetie darlings, it's a... Junior roller coaster ride?
Aren't I the Queen of Stupid Analogies... The three of you are giving up on me now, aren't you? Before you go, do swing by my Facebook profile for some final insults to your intelligence in the form of 25 things you probably didn't need or want to know about yours truly madly deeply but Adele Dubois asked and who am I to decline such a lovely lady.
What happens on January 16th, you ask? If you're still there. If I didn't lose you when the feather boa came out. Or the whole business with the cattle prod. I usher my family out the door, leave winter apparel and worries alike behind, and board a flying machine to Salvador, Brazil, where my biggest headache will be the pool or the beach? A caipirinha or a diet Coke? Oh dear. Decisions, decisions.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Start the revolution without me
Happy Diwali and Guy Fawkes'!
And my apologies, V. I know it's supposed to be V for Vendetta night at the home movie theater but this year is not good for me, sweetie darling. Girls' night out, you see.
Oh don't give me that face. That face. The one you always do, that quirky smirk. It's not going to work, not this time, so don't even start. I promise to come home early. Real early. Around 4 am? Early enough in the morning for you? I thought so. Catch you next year then.
Cheers. Behave.
And my apologies, V. I know it's supposed to be V for Vendetta night at the home movie theater but this year is not good for me, sweetie darling. Girls' night out, you see.
Oh don't give me that face. That face. The one you always do, that quirky smirk. It's not going to work, not this time, so don't even start. I promise to come home early. Real early. Around 4 am? Early enough in the morning for you? I thought so. Catch you next year then.
Cheers. Behave.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Running up that hill
There's a hill in our neighborhood perfect for some instant no-nonsense exercise: long, steep and always there. When I don't have much time for a workout but I need a quick intense fix, that's where I head, and voilà, butt, thighs and lungs on fire in no time with endorphins galore.
I have a feeling I'll be running up that hill a lot this summer for exercise and that working will feel a lot as if I were. School's out, kids are in and Hubby will be in and out on an erratic schedule that will make mine, hmm, interesting.
So what do you do? You do what you can. My babies aren't babies anymore, which helps. It's no hardship staying up late or waking up early since the sun will be up too. The Land of the Midnight Sun, indeed. I'm working on a project with goals and deadlines but no fixed hours. Brilliant. My mind is always working on some manuscript or other pretty much disregarding the time of year or day, and I can't shut it out or turn it off, I don't even want to.
What I need to do is learn to focus in a ruckus. Not one of my strengths, but this summer I get to work on it. An honest look at your limitations is the only way to find your way through, so with limited time on my hands, if I get a moment's peace I'm doing what I do when I get a moment alone with that hill. I'm going to go like fuck.
I have a feeling I'll be running up that hill a lot this summer for exercise and that working will feel a lot as if I were. School's out, kids are in and Hubby will be in and out on an erratic schedule that will make mine, hmm, interesting.
So what do you do? You do what you can. My babies aren't babies anymore, which helps. It's no hardship staying up late or waking up early since the sun will be up too. The Land of the Midnight Sun, indeed. I'm working on a project with goals and deadlines but no fixed hours. Brilliant. My mind is always working on some manuscript or other pretty much disregarding the time of year or day, and I can't shut it out or turn it off, I don't even want to.
What I need to do is learn to focus in a ruckus. Not one of my strengths, but this summer I get to work on it. An honest look at your limitations is the only way to find your way through, so with limited time on my hands, if I get a moment's peace I'm doing what I do when I get a moment alone with that hill. I'm going to go like fuck.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
All for fun and fun for all
Wonderful weekend ahead, folks! Plenty of reasons to have fun and celebrate another day of living and another day of life, another
Well-earned weekend (unless you're working, but since it isn't a given these days, good for you!)
Saint Valentine's (see A league of extraordinary gentlemen for pointers on alternative modes of celebration)
Chinese New Year (Metal Tiger, which means... I have no idea what it means)
The 21st Winter Olympics (we might run out of those sooner than we'd like, so get it while it's...not too hot)
Insert your favorite pastime/waste of time/road to ruin here
Little sis giving birth any day now (neither here nor there for y'all, but awww, it's a baby, one I won't have to squeeze out, only enjoy, a cause for celebration, surely), just in time for
Carnaval!!! To be in Rio right now, but if I could be in Salvador or Olinda...damn!
If you hate crowds, and people in general, don't approach Brazil during carnaval. But if a hotspot of fun is your cuppa, you won't need batteries to keep you going, the baterias will keep you up all night, day in, day out. If you still need a pick-me-up, ask for Indian Viagra (not to be confused with counterfeit drugs from the South Asian subcontinent).
I think they banned those beverages, though, at least in Olinda, because it extended your happy hour to a week without sleep. It doesn't necessarily mean it's not available. But you don't need a drink to enjoy yourself or to stay awake, I promise. Leave your valuables, your hang-ups and any lingering cynicism home and dance to the rhythm of the saints.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go see a wholesaler about some party foods. I told you, plenty of reasons to have fun this weekend, several reasons to be glad you're alive, to enjoy the company of friends and family, or silence, if that's your pleasure. It can't be wasted time if you enjoyed wasting it, right?
Well-earned weekend (unless you're working, but since it isn't a given these days, good for you!)
Saint Valentine's (see A league of extraordinary gentlemen for pointers on alternative modes of celebration)
Chinese New Year (Metal Tiger, which means... I have no idea what it means)
The 21st Winter Olympics (we might run out of those sooner than we'd like, so get it while it's...not too hot)
Insert your favorite pastime/waste of time/road to ruin here
Little sis giving birth any day now (neither here nor there for y'all, but awww, it's a baby, one I won't have to squeeze out, only enjoy, a cause for celebration, surely), just in time for
Carnaval!!! To be in Rio right now, but if I could be in Salvador or Olinda...damn!
If you hate crowds, and people in general, don't approach Brazil during carnaval. But if a hotspot of fun is your cuppa, you won't need batteries to keep you going, the baterias will keep you up all night, day in, day out. If you still need a pick-me-up, ask for Indian Viagra (not to be confused with counterfeit drugs from the South Asian subcontinent).
I think they banned those beverages, though, at least in Olinda, because it extended your happy hour to a week without sleep. It doesn't necessarily mean it's not available. But you don't need a drink to enjoy yourself or to stay awake, I promise. Leave your valuables, your hang-ups and any lingering cynicism home and dance to the rhythm of the saints.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go see a wholesaler about some party foods. I told you, plenty of reasons to have fun this weekend, several reasons to be glad you're alive, to enjoy the company of friends and family, or silence, if that's your pleasure. It can't be wasted time if you enjoyed wasting it, right?
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