Oh no; I just pulled a Mom move

Just now, Malcolm came in to tell me that the scene in Disney/Pixar's Cars where a group of cars comes up and messes with Mac (Lightning's tractor trailer who transports him to races) while he's nodding off has become a recent meme. Apparently when those cars come onscreen, people love it because it looks so cool. You might remember that Malcolm used to have die-cast cars of every major, minor, and incidental character in all of the movies and those cars were some of his favorite.

I asked, "What was the name of their gang?" Mal said, "I don't remember." I offered, "I think it was something like the Rowdy Ramblers." Malcolm was skeptical but didn't care too much and went about his business.

I did care, so I looked it up and they were the Delinquent Road Hazards (or just Road Hazards, for short). It cracked me up so much. What an old mom thing to do!

Rowdy Ramblers ride!!

Time Machine

In looking for something else, I found an essay I'd written back in the fall of 2012, months after James and I had started dating and months before we got married. It still holds true today, so I'm going to post it:

Sometimes I Feel Like I Don’t Have a Partner
November 15, 2012

“I hope you find whatever it is that you’re looking for.”

This is one of the last things that my ex-husband told me before I moved to Austin. He seemed genuinely baffled, as though I’d always been looking for something that he couldn’t give me, and maybe in a way this is true. But I’ve always known what I wanted, and I thought that I was pretty clear in communicating this to him… over and over and over for years and years. But it was apparently still a mystery to him.

This week, I went on vacation with D and James. When we got to the condo, James helped carry everything up, and when he saw that I was unpacking in my room, he went into his room to unpack. He told me, “If it were just me, I’d leave everything laying around.”

He wanted to help when I was cooking our meals. He wanted to go when D and I went to the playground to hang out. He was disappointed this morning when he learned that I’d taken the cooler down instead of letting him do it.

When we got to the trailer, he helped get everything in and helped put things away, get the laundry started, and made sure that I didn’t need anything else before he sat down to work on the computer.

I get the mess that is missed e-mail, and in our case NaNoWriMo catch-ups, and work that is now backlogged and all of that… so I never resent the need to get back to real life when vacation is over. But I didn’t realize fully how much I had missed and how nice it was to have someone to help me reacclimatize so that I could do the same.

I have, for my whole life, wanted a partner. I have wanted someone who was different enough from me that we’d have interesting conversations and be able to enjoy each other’s viewpoints, but who was willing to work with me to be a team. Andy tried to argue with me when we saw things differently. Ken was the same way. It wasn’t enough that I had an opinion or a thought that perhaps I’d very carefully considered before coming to the conclusion I had reached. I was wrong and needed to be taught how to think correctly. When I didn’t agree, there was a breakdown in community. We could never agree to disagree and then get on with life.

Ken in particular took my differences of opinion as disunity. I did not understand that. I wasn’t threatened or offended by his differences.

I was lonely, though. I wrote him letter upon letter about wanting company, about wanting someone who seemed to enjoy being around me, who liked spending time with me and would be “there” when he was there. 

This might not be something he was able to provide. It made for a lonely existence.

When Ken was with me, and later with D and me, he could be in the moment for a while, but then he would retreat into whatever reality he preferred and we were left to our own devices. This is fine now, when I expect it to be just D and me, but it was horribly sad when my expectation was that we were supposed to be in it together.

So often, it was him versus me. I never understood this. I never got why he would be so frustrated when I was happy or having a good time. This is one thing I especially appreciate about James. If I got the opportunity to spend a week in Europe with Rockapella or Weird Al or a group of girlfriends, James would be at the airport seeing me off with a big smile on his face and yelling behind me things like, “Take lots of pictures!” “Bring me back some good cheese!” “I’ll miss you!” Then he’d get on with his life that week, miss me a lot, and be very happy to see me when I returned.

What I just described sounds normal, as though of course this is what would happen. When you live with someone who isn’t your partner, though, there is a shift in reality, so that it is just slightly “off.” First of all, Ken never would have let me go to Europe without him because he would be afraid that I would do something “stupid.” If I were to go anyway, he’d sit at home all week, checking Facebook updates and pictures, and getting more and more angry with me. He might send an email message telling me to enjoy my trip because I was never going on a trip again.

When I got home, he’d have let the house get horribly messy, and he wouldn’t help me bring anything in from the car, and he would likely ignore me for a week.

This was my reality. I never went to Europe without Ken, but I was punished for being happy. I was made to feel guilty when I enjoyed life outside of my house. I was viewed with suspicion and resentment. And all that I wanted was a partner.

This is why, I believe, I fell into such deep “love” with my dearest friend after my marriage was over. My friend said that he was attracted to me, and the deep respect for and work ethic he had regarding marriage were extremely attractive to me. I thought that if the two of us got together, we could have an incredible partnership. Only it was going to cost him too much, so he backed out. The problem was that I had already fallen hard and fast for the idea of having a functional family, and all of the meals and reunions and fun outings and even the stress that goes with that.

I got caught in a repeating loop of need and wants and trying to talk someone unwilling to partner with me into doing so against his better judgment.

This time, though, things are different. I can feel it. James is an admitted introvert, and being “with people” is a challenge for him. After spending four full days in all-out family vacation mode, though, he said he didn’t feel like climbing the walls. That’s incredible. And he was in the moment the whole time, except for zoning out at dinner trying to figure out a plot device he’d used.

The point is that I never felt lonely. James wrote over 17,000 words during the days that we were on vacation, and we still spent more time together and had more conversation and hung out and played games and were genuinely together in a way that I have never experienced before. I feel like I’m heading toward something immense. And I am grateful.

All I have wanted my entire life is to have a partner, to have someone with me to share things and to show me things and to be with me. For the first time in years, I believe that this dream has a possibility of coming true.

For the first time in my life, I can watch a romantic movie and not be pensive; I can actually be happy for the lovers, and imagine how they feel. That might sound sappy and stupid, but that has never been an experience that I have had. I’ve never felt secure in any relationship that I have ever had, even the better of them.

I have always been afraid that I was one screw-up or prettier girl from losing. And I’m not scared anymore.

So I suppose that the most amazing thing about James is that I trust him. I trust him with my heart. I have given it to him completely, and I am not worried that he will be careless with it or unequal to the task.

James is a strong man, with very different experiences and views than mine. But he will make it right if he thinks I’ve misunderstood him. He will call me and say, “We’re so not breaking up over this.” He is willing to work. He has worked. He has proven himself truer in the most stressful of situations, and we continue to get stronger as a team. I love him. He loves me. We have acknowledged that neither of us is perfect, but that we are both perfect for each other.

It’s taken me half of my life, but I have a partner. Happy mid-life to me.

Getting into the Veterans Administration health system, Part II

He did it! James walked into the VA clinic last week and pretty quickly managed to make an appointment for labs (which he did yesterday) and another one to establish care with a primary care physician next week.

When he went in for the labs yesterday, he was very brusquely asked to present his eligibility card, which he does not have and about which this is the first tine we are hearing. The sparkling gentleman who checked James in stated that he did not care whether or not James was aware of the card; he absolutely has to have it. 

James asked what he needed to do, and the man told him that he'd have to go into Austin or up to Temple to request a card, but they did let him do his blood draw. Also, James verified that he could still see the doctor next week.

He mentioned that when he went back for the blood draw, it was done very quickly and with an absence of any kind of chit-chat. When I do lab work at Quest, they are super quick about it because they're good at it from doing it all day, but they do at least attempt to be pleasant. 

Oh well! We don't need coddling; just healthcare, so James will soldier on. (Get it? It's the VA.)

I did a bit of internet sleuthing and it seemed like we could request a card online, and my only guess as to why James wasn't told that was maybe because many of the vets using the VA health system are old farts who'd rather drive an hour and a half and wait in a waiting room than put their passport online?

Turns out that was a bit of a whole deal, anyway.

First, James had to set up an account with ID.me, and it didn't like our driver's license capture. The same thing happened to my dad recently when we were trying to verify his identity for something with Social Security. I believe this to be because of how the Texas driver's licenses, which are now the Real ID version, print the pictures. They're pixelated black and white snaps, and both tines I've tried to do this to verify an identity, the system has complained that the picture is "blurry." I've retaken photos in full light, all 4 corners showing, text crisp as can be... and it's just that the pictures are grainy. *shrug*

So. We uploaded his driver's license AND his passport, and then had to do a quick video call, for which we waited in/online about 25 minutes. That "call" lasted approximately 4 seconds, and that was that.

Except THEN we had to take a picture for his VA medical eligibility card. This one is on me: I kept not reading the full instructions, so we had to keep taking new ones. They are pretty funny, honestly.

1) Great pic! Oh, but it needs to have a neutral background.
2) Cute! I see, neutral LIGHT background. And neutral expression, mouth closed.
3) Okay, But it's kind of dark in here. Let's try a flash.
4) NO NO NO NO NO. Worse than a mug shot.

We finally got that done and the website said it should be a couple of weeks. Fingers crossed, people!

The Struggle Continues

That sounds like an exciting sequel, but it's not. It's annoying and exhausting and I often feel like I'm over it, but then it sucks me back in, and this both disappoints me and pisses me off.

Mostly, I don't think critically much about how I look. I try to keep my hair brushed, my hands and face clean, and my clothes comfortable. Then I go about my day and it's fine.

But sometimes, especially at certain times of the month, and maybe especially especially because my body is making some midlife changes that I KNOW TO EXPECT... Sometimes, I just feel like I don't know the body I see in the mirror when I'm not expecting to see it.

The part about this that bothers me the most is that I am anti-feeling-like-crap about the way you look. I outgrew self-hate-speak years ago. I see pictures of myself from 15 years ago and think I look... insubstantial. I don't want to go back to that. Maintaining an artificially low (for me) body weight took up so much of my energy and attention that I have zero desire to go back to those days.

And yet...

My body is changing quickly and seems partially alien to me. I'm still flexible. I do the splits, I stretch, I squat, I bend. But now, when I try to touch my nose to the knees of my outstretched legs, I can't... because my belly is in the way.

I feel spry (mostly; I did a killer workout Friday and am just now getting over being sore about that on Sunday evening), and my body does what I want it to. I don't struggle with movement, and I'm strong enough to handle most tasks I set out to do on my own. In other words, I'm extremely functional, and probably more so now than I have been in years.

I'm proud of who I am, what I've learned, how I'm trying to improve, and of the life I and my people have built. It is absolutely profane that a chance encounter with my own reflection at an angle I wasn't prepared for threatens to send me spiraling.

Here's what I know: I'm not going to do anything about it. It's dangerous, mentally and physically. Usually, I just wait it out until the feeling passes. Fortunately, I guess, my life is generally too busy to get mired down in this sort of thing for very long.

Update: I'm past it now but wanted to go ahead and post this because... most of us end up in that space sometimes. 

Here's a picture of me walking last week. I have to go VERY late not to walk in complete darkness since Daylight Saving Time started again. I hate having no time to myself when I get home, but seeing sunrises like this *almost* make it worth it.

The Wonders of Modern Medicine (and TMI, maybe?)

A few years ago, I'd read more than one study showing that there was a correlation between people who were on an antiviral like Acyclovir to treat herpes and a lower incidence of Alzheimer's development. There wasn't and still isn't a clear answer as to whether this is at all causal, but it was of interest to me for two reasons: 1) I have a family history of Alzheimer's, and 2) at the time, almost every month, toward the end of my cycle, I would get a cold sore.

If you've never had a cold sore (or fever blister or whatever colloquialism you use for it) before, then... well, I guess good for you, you smarmy devil. But they initially tingle, then hurt like the dickens for 3 days, then seep for a couple of days, then dry up and scab over, then take a good week to heal. So we're looking at 2-3 weeks of dealing with this. Every month or couple of months. I HATED IT.

Sometimes I didn't get one. Sometimes, I'd get more than one (like the time I spent a whole day on a boat on Lake Mead and got super sunburned then ended up with at least 5 cold sores all around my mouth). Once or twice, it tried to come up INSIDE OF MY NOSTRIL.

As soon as I'd feel it coming, I'd apply Abreva topically and swallow a ton of Lysine. Sometimes, I'd stop it in its tracks. Many times, it didn't matter what I did. It was going to break out.

My doctor had no problem putting me on acyclovir. Ever since then, it's been perfect. I hadn't had a cold sore in years. I'd had a couple of instances where I'd felt the tingling, but then between the preventative, medicine, and supplement, we'd stop it!

Until last month.

Ugh.

As I've mentioned, my body is vaguely trying to stop having menstrual cycles. I went about 120 days last year, then had regular periods for three months. This past month, I didn't have a period. But when it got to what would have been my last day if I had, I started feeling that tingle. I've since gotten topical Lysine, which is a lot cheaper than Abreva and as effective, if not more. Except this time, all efforts were impotent. I got a stinking cold sore and it reminded me of how much I appreciate how effective the anti-viral has been for the past few years.

A further complication here is that I've stopped wearing make-up in the past year. I didn't have any concealer, so it was just out there, doing its disgusting thing (I do wear tinted lip balm and sometimes eye-liner). 

This was about a week into it, when it had started crusting over.
I did break out the left-over powder to try to even out the screaming red color.

Here's the thing I hate the most about it: It's all I can think about when I have one. First, it just hurts so badly. Then I know how messed up it looks, and sometimes I realize that part of the dry skin or scab has started peeling off, and then I wonder how long it's been that way. It's just such a dang focus and I despise that it takes up that much mental space for me.

The moral of this story is maybe that I'm super vain, maybe? Or is it that life is demonstratively better when you can afford or have offered to you "good" insurance that allows you to see doctors for non-life-threatening conditions. My quality of life is improved so much just being on maintenance meds for asthma and cold sores. Using my inhaler once every other month instead of 6 times a day is like a miracle. Being super bent out of shape about the first cold sore in 3 years instead of being super pissed that it's happening for the eighth time in a year is the same. I feel like that sort of peace of mind and care should be equally available to everyone, and not just lucky and/or "rich" folks. 

Preparing for a Long Weekend, half-century version

Reporting live from downtown Oklahoma City:

I love travel. I love PLANNING to travel. I'll research places we're going, even just for an afternoon, to try to find the best opportunities for us to experience the area in ways that change as our family situation changes. When Mal was smaller, indoor playgrounds were a good deal, and you could forget any museum that wasn't specifically targeted at children. Now that he's getting older, we can do a wider variety of things (including expecting him to make it through an hour-long meal at a restaurant that isn't McDonald's with a Playplace... it's still kind of tough for him, but he CAN do it), and it's always fun to stumble onto cool places accidentally, as well.

So THAT I plan vacations very carefully hasn't changed. HOW I do it has changed a lot.

Especially when I had an eating disorder, a lot of my vacation centered around where and what I would eat, because vacations were "cheat days," all. I was able to throw off the disordered eating when we were traveling, and it was one reason I was so happy to get out and about. Now, I try to find a few highlights that seem like they'd be good, but know we'll never hit all of those places, and that we'll probably end up seeing a food truck or having some left-overs or other things we couldn't have anticipated before we actually did them. And while I look at menus to make sure there are a few choices for each of us (although sometimes I'll tell Mal just to tough it out with a soda and we'll find chicken tenders and fries for him later), I don't know exactly THE DISH I'm going to order at each restaurant months in advance.

Another thing I've changed is how I plan my travel wardrobe. When I was younger, I chose the cutest clothes I could think of for each day, plus a change of PJs every other night. Now, my entire mindset has changed. I end up in very few pictures, and I'm not particularly fussed about how put-together I look in the ones I'm in. Also, with a smaller vehicle and hating the post-vacation laundry trudge, I'm trying to travel lighter. So instead of the cutest outfit, I look at the anticipated temperature, and pick something that will work for that day AND for the next morning.

I typically get straight out of bed and walk in the morning, wearing what I slept in, which is usually what I wore the day before. I do this so when I get whatever I'm wearing sweaty and gross, it's fine to put in the dirty clothes hamper because I've already worn it a full day and night. Then I get dressed for the day after cleaning up.

Preparing to come to OKC, I knew that I only wanted to pack one bag for the three of us for three nights. So I didn't want to bring extra shoes. I needed my trainers for all of the walking we'd be doing (we valet parked the car and planned not to touch it until we leave tomorrow), so I chose outfits that were comfortable and would look okay with Skechers. They aren't my favorite-looking clothes. But they're fine. 20-something me would hate this whole thing.

I used to spend a lot of time on vacation fixing my hair, as well. Not anymore. My motto about that, as it is for most things these days, is: "It's fine." I'm here to relax. I'm not spending an hour with a blow dryer and iron every day. I'm here to have a good time. So I don't have to pack styling implements. In fact, since this particular trip is only 3 nights, I can get away with not washing my hair at all until we get back home. Far fewer toiletries this way.

Finally, I used to really stress over having the house clean with nothing waiting in the laundry or dishwasher before we'd leave for a trip. I considered cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms before we left (my usual day to do this is Friday or Saturday) but I decided that since D was going to be home, I'd probably want to clean up when we returned, anyway. D does keep things pretty well, but I have my own way of doing things. So I did do laundry the night before we left, mostly because I didn't want anything in my way when we got home and I knew I'd need to wash a load or two. But I didn't do anything with the kitchen or restrooms, and I just started a dishwasher load as we were heading out the door. D needed clean dishes for cat feeding.

The result of this was that we got up and leisurely loaded the car in preparation of leaving the house. It was so much better than being harried and hurried and trying to do as much as possible.

Maybe you CAN teach an old dog new tricks? Or maybe I'm just entering the enhanced potato phase of life. Either way, it's good. I'm a fan.

The Change (and no, I don't mean the SCC song)

In case you weren't deep in evangelical christianity in the early 2000s, the title is a reference to this. (I can't listen to much from these days without cringing, but this one aged okay.)

Now back to our regular programming.

We've established that I'm old. Like half a century old.

I have this very vivid memory from when I was a quarter century old:

I was dating a guy who was two decades my senior. He had this very intensive facial regimen he'd do every morning and night, and it had never occurred to me to do anything like that. Like, I washed my face, but when he cleansed, he left the wash on for a long time so it could "work." Then he'd moisturize. And do stuff for his crow's feet. It was the first and basically only time in my life that I started wondering, "Should I be doing something to keep from looking old?"

The answer I gave myself was "no," and I never looked back.

However, the pandemic did all of us who mostly wore make-up passively a big favor in that it normalized more fresh faces with minimal makeup. I've basically decided to buy into the conventional "pack light" wisdom that all I need is some eyeliner (I know, they say mascara but I can't wear that because it irritates my eyes... yes, even the hypo-allergenic stuff) and tinted lip balm.

My neighbor tells me that I'm lucky because I have "some natural color," whereas she's so pallid that when she was a small child, her mother wouldn't let her wear certain colors because she looked dead (also, she's in her mid-70s, so it was a different time).

I found a couple of similar pictures of myself. One is from today and one is from 12 years ago. I was mostly comparing a full face of makeup (the older picture) to me today. I have never worn heavy make-up, but in the picture from my 30s, I'm wearing powder, lipstick, eyeliner, eye shadow, and blush. Today, I'm only wearing eyeliner and lip balm. Oh, also, I don't color my hair anymore.

And, yes, I can see that I have some wrinkles around my eyes now that I didn't used to have. Also, my neck is probably wrinklier. However, I don't think the "even less make-up" takes much away.

The one concern I had is that I have a pretty high forehead (or what the kids called "five-head" a few years ago) that tends toward shininess. I'm using CeraVe Foaming Cleanser Bar in the morning and evening, and then moisturizing with an alleged "mattifying" lotion at night. I haven't noticed any matte effect, and my forehead is still glistens. I did get some oil-absorbing sheets... and I don't think it's oily. I don't know. I just glow, I suppose.

Anyway, something interesting has happened since I started washing my face twice a day instead of once and also moisturizing: My skin has cleared up. I mean, I've been fortunate to have pretty good skin, anyway, but had some bumps and just assumed that was what my skin was doing as I head into menopause. Turns out, maybe my face is tired after 35 years of having power all over almost every single day. 

Since I started drinking more water about a year ago (after GERD was massively negatively impacting my life so I gave up carbonated drinks for the most part), and have now started trying to "pack light" in my make-up life, I thought a couple of other things might be fun.

My feet have always been cracked and dry, and my mom has been on me most of my life to use lotion. It's always felt overwhelming to me, taking time to do that. I don't know why. I'm just not super fussy about my personal maintenance? Anyway, I've started doing that once or twice a day. The bottom of my feet will be okay for several hours, then it's a desert again. Will it ever stay better longer? Who knows. Will I tire of this and go back to having funky feet? Probably. Still, I always love a good experiment.

Oh, the other thing I decided to do was to stop biting my nails. I have always done it, and I don't care that I do it. But as long as I'm changing up my routine, I figured I'd throw that in, as well.

Finally, to address "the change" thing... For those keeping score, my current cycle has been 83 days. I've been fairly regular since I had D (and before that, I was on The Pill for 12 years, so it was like a clock), but in the past year, it's been slightly less predictable. Still 26-41 days. Once, it was 46 days, and then I was treated to 9 days of... um... fun? as a reward. No, thanks. This is definitely the longest by far.

I'm hoping maybe I pre-paid for this with all of the issues I had in my young adulthood and I'll be able to skate through to menopause without any major hot flashes or life upheavals. I have definitely noticed a change in my body shape, as explained in this paper, the summary of which is: "[G]oing through the menopause does not cause a woman to gain weight. However, the hormonal changes at the menopause are associated with a change in the the way that fat is distributed, leading to more belly (abdominal) fat."

Fortunately, I knew that was coming, so I was ready. And it's not even a big deal.

I've been walking at least a couple of miles a day for 19 months now, and have recently started breaking that up with doing core training every few days instead. I already see how my knees sometimes feel like they're weaker, so I'm doing lunges to give them more of a challenge. And when I started doing lunges, I realize that since I haven't done them in a long time, my balance was off a bit. So I'm also doing a few balance exercises to try to maintain as much mobility and agility as possible. 

Injuring my back ten years ago showed me what a literal pain in the butt just plain existence can be when you're not at 100%, so I hope to put any falls or breaks off for as long as possible!

Okay, now that you know way too much about me, I'm ready to go to bed.

Have a good rest of your weekend, everybody!