Warning: This post is NOT for the faint hearted......
Recently, my little one has been in a growth spurt, which means that when she's not eating, she's sleeping, and thus, so am I. And during this more abundant sleep, the dreams have been coming fast and furious. Most are your basic anxiety dream, occasionally R-rated, but nothing truly interpretive. Until now.
Maybe I've been reading the news too much, maybe speaking to my husband (and politics junkie) too much (not possible, we barely have time for conversation), but it's seeped into my unconscious. Last night, I dreamed I was a Muslim woman, veiled and all, having sex with (hold on to your lunch) George Bush! But this same woman, when walking down a secret flight of stairs, was then transported to Georgetown, and was now unveiled and a Paris Hilton type. Disturbing, no?
So what does this mean? It CERTYAINLY does not mean I find George Bush attractive. Is it about said Head of State and his policy towards the Middle EAst -- i.e. let's screw it? My interpretation is a little more nuanced -- that the powers that be in DC have misled Georgie into thinking that the Mid East wanted him and was his to "enter", tricking him into thinking the will of the "Georgetown" was the will of the Mid East.
But whatever. In the end, I jsut feel a little grossed out and have GOT to stop reading about Paris Hilton :)
Friday, June 29, 2007
Saturday, June 2, 2007
strapped
My husband's koala, Einstein, did himself in today. Daniel found him hanging by his (Daniel's) belt from the wardrobe in our bedroom. Okay, so Einstein is a puppet, but still, it was quite the statement, wasn't it? Did I have anything to do with it.... hmmm? Well, let's just say that this morning, in a half awake, very cranky state (as is of most mornings) I was woken by noisy child #1 (due to the benign neglect of said husband), shuffled into the bathroom, took a look at myself in the mirror on the door, and added to the horrors of my unwashed for two days hair, was a long, leather belt, hanging from the hook above.
Call me neurotic, call me father fixated or penis envious or childhood traumatized, but I cannot stand seeing his belt hanging like this. He could say it's pure laziness but if that's so, why are the rest of his clothes on the floor with only the leather member swinging in the bathroom breeze? Not only do I have to see it menacingly on the door, but in front a mirror, so it's double the aggression. Needless to say, I don't think it's just laziness. Now is this my thing? Well, sure, partly. As a kid, my brother and I were spanked, and my father often threatened bad behavior with "I'm going to take off my strap" -- i.e.. belt. Did he actually hit us wth the belt? No. It was just the brutality of the threat, clearly made in anger. That was scarier -- it wasn't a belt, it was a strap!
So when I see it hanging in our bathroom, don't blame me for being offened by the, at minimum, arrogance, and maximum, threat and aggression evidenced by my husband.
And don't say I'm one of these women who expects her husband to read her mind. Trust me, I let my husband know exactly what's on my mind like the daily headlines. I've been telling him not to hang his belt there since we first moved in together nine years ago. And this morning, cranky as I was, I took a deep breath and gently pointed out to him that he had left his belt hanging again after his shower, along with his glasses on the stepstool in front of the sink (not THAT'S smart - just perfect for little feet to step on). So he went back in, and put away the glasses. And later, when I woke up, there the belt still was.
So poor furry little Einie had to suffer for his "daddy's" mistake. As I explained to Daniel, maybe Einstein didn't want to live anymore in a world, or at least a home, so filled with strife. Or maybe I just wished for a moment that my husband would take that belt and put it around his own neck (just for a moment -- his life insurance policy probbly doesn't cover suicide).
Fortunately, Einie pulled a Heather. Or at least Einie's poor life was saved when my daughter asked "what happened?" All of sudden, Einstein was just bungee jumping. So he got a reprieve -- I'm still convinced, however, that this will come out in Lillie's therapy session circa 2038 -- "my mother was so passive agressive, she hung my father's stuffed animal with his belt"-- well, yeah, although there's nothing "passive' about it.
Will Daniel put his belt away next time, probably for a week or two, but then he'll revert to the same semi-conscious passive-agreessive habit of his own. And I don't believe in passive-aggressive. So next time, I'll just belt him. THAT should be good fodder for my children's future therapists.
Call me neurotic, call me father fixated or penis envious or childhood traumatized, but I cannot stand seeing his belt hanging like this. He could say it's pure laziness but if that's so, why are the rest of his clothes on the floor with only the leather member swinging in the bathroom breeze? Not only do I have to see it menacingly on the door, but in front a mirror, so it's double the aggression. Needless to say, I don't think it's just laziness. Now is this my thing? Well, sure, partly. As a kid, my brother and I were spanked, and my father often threatened bad behavior with "I'm going to take off my strap" -- i.e.. belt. Did he actually hit us wth the belt? No. It was just the brutality of the threat, clearly made in anger. That was scarier -- it wasn't a belt, it was a strap!
So when I see it hanging in our bathroom, don't blame me for being offened by the, at minimum, arrogance, and maximum, threat and aggression evidenced by my husband.
And don't say I'm one of these women who expects her husband to read her mind. Trust me, I let my husband know exactly what's on my mind like the daily headlines. I've been telling him not to hang his belt there since we first moved in together nine years ago. And this morning, cranky as I was, I took a deep breath and gently pointed out to him that he had left his belt hanging again after his shower, along with his glasses on the stepstool in front of the sink (not THAT'S smart - just perfect for little feet to step on). So he went back in, and put away the glasses. And later, when I woke up, there the belt still was.
So poor furry little Einie had to suffer for his "daddy's" mistake. As I explained to Daniel, maybe Einstein didn't want to live anymore in a world, or at least a home, so filled with strife. Or maybe I just wished for a moment that my husband would take that belt and put it around his own neck (just for a moment -- his life insurance policy probbly doesn't cover suicide).
Fortunately, Einie pulled a Heather. Or at least Einie's poor life was saved when my daughter asked "what happened?" All of sudden, Einstein was just bungee jumping. So he got a reprieve -- I'm still convinced, however, that this will come out in Lillie's therapy session circa 2038 -- "my mother was so passive agressive, she hung my father's stuffed animal with his belt"-- well, yeah, although there's nothing "passive' about it.
Will Daniel put his belt away next time, probably for a week or two, but then he'll revert to the same semi-conscious passive-agreessive habit of his own. And I don't believe in passive-aggressive. So next time, I'll just belt him. THAT should be good fodder for my children's future therapists.
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