Twice a Week or Once a Day?

It’s been over a week since my first blog entry.  I’ve been trying to figure out how I want to write this thing.  Do I write every day and treat this as a journal, or do I maybe write twice a week and have my thoughts be more organized edited?   Oh the dilemma.  And when I tell you that I have been obsessing about this, I do not lie.  Driving in the car, taking my morning shower, packing Joseph’s lunch, changing dirty diapers- my mind is repeating, Twice a week or once a day?  Twice a week or once a day? 

It now seriously makes sense why my little five-year-old Joseph can literally repeat himself over and over until I am ready to gouge my eyes out. 

 Me:  “I know you’re disappointed that we can’t see Mathew today.”  I say this to him after I have already taken five minutes explaining why we can’t have a play date today.  I just picked him up from school and we’re driving home.

Joseph:  “Why no play date?  I want to have a play date with Mathew.”

 Me:  “I know you do, but I already explained it to you sweetie. We have to learn to go with the flow a little better.  Things sometimes change.”

 Suddenly silence after what seems like an eternity of explanation time.  I inhale and exhale deeply.  My mind starts to go. What the hell am I making for dinner tonight?  I need dish soap.  Gotta call back Alyssa- oh, there goes my phone, who’s calling?  Where’s my phone?  Mom- can’t talk now mom.  Gotta call you back.  Hmmmmmmm, Twice a week or once a day? 

 Joseph:  “Mommy?” 

 Me:  “Yeah Joe?”

 Joseph:  “I want to have a play date with Mathew today.”

 Where was I?  Oh, wracking my brain.  This is typical Wendy.  Think, rethink, think again, and get nothing done.  Let’s take a brief step back to really take a good hard look at this utter insanity.  How much time has been wasted thinking about this?  What would my sister say to me in this moment?

 “You’re over thinking this Wen.  Just write already.”

 Thanks Chris!  Just what I needed to hear.  How is that the younger sister, by six years mind you, is always right?  When exactly was this transition made?

 Chrissy and I only lived together up until she was two years old.  My parents divorced when I was eight.  Mom took Chrissy and moved to Florida with her new husband, and I chose to live with my neurotic, scientist, you’re not allowed to do anything, dad. 

 We saw each other a few times a year, usually during Christmas time and summer.  When I was fifteen years old and she was nine, I assume that I was right about quite a lot.  But then again…

 Mom used to yell at Chrissy for locking herself in her room and doing something unimaginable.  Something that nine year olds just didn’t do.  Even to this day, it’s hard for me to believe.  My sister would literally lock herself in her room and read all day.  Yes, you heard me, read.  And I’m not talking about books that Judy Bloom used to write.  She would read books that kids would read in high school like, yeah, The Fountainhead.  Imagine having to yell at your child because they read too much?  Jesus.

 My mom is this tiny little Japanese woman.  She’s lucky if she’s five foot with shoes on.  She still has a thick Japanese accent.  You’d never know she has lived in this country for thirty some years.

 Mom:  “Yeah, you know, something wrong with your sister.  All she do is read, read, read, right?”

 Me:  “I know.  She’s nuts.”

 Mom:  “Yeah, right?  Why she not go and play with other kids?”

 Me:  “I think she might need a social skills class.”

 Mom: “Realllllly?  Nooooo, you think? (long pause).  Yeah, something not right.  Every day, same thing.  She lock door and stay in there all day.  Something wrong, read book after book after book.  Right?”

 Me:  “I know, who does that?  Seriously…”

 I knew I was throwing Chrissy under the bus, but it was fun.  I liked drama back then.  Many years later I learned that reading was my sisters way of staying away from mom.  To tune mom out, she’d pull out a few books.  For me, it was another story.  When I wanted to tune dad out, I’d pull out a joint, a pack of Marlboro reds and a six- pack.

 You know, come to think of it, even when Chrissy was ten, eleven, twelve years old, she was able to peg my not so good boyfriends and girlfriends too.  She was able to help me see through ridiculous drama situations I’d get myself into.  She’d often say, “Get rid of him,” or “Get over it,” or “She’s no good for you.”  Maybe those books taught her a few things or maybe she just had a gift of knowing everything.  God, I really have to say that I feel sorry for her husband.  Poor Jay.  He probably didn’t see it coming.  Little did he know that when he said, “I do,” he would be saying, “You’re right, I’m wrong,” for the rest of his life.  He never had a chance.  Sad.

 Alas, I suppose there really was no transition.  She was born right.

 Chrissy posted a link on my Facebook last month.  How to design your ideal life It’s a terrific article about why most of us are unable to keep New Year’s Resolutions and why “to-do” lists just don’t work.  It goes on to explain the steps needed to accomplish your goals, big or small.  Whether it’s having an organized closet or writing the next great American novel, no goal is too small or too big to achieve.  I have implemented the steps the author has outlined, and will highlight them throughout the weeks ahead.   As I mentioned before, obtaining my goals has been a bit of a challenge as of late. But I have to say that this article has put me in the right direction.  Again, thank you oh wise younger sister.  I love you. 

From writing all of this today, I think I’ve realized that I’m going to do my blog every day, even if it’s just a few sentences. I have to say that doing this is definitely getting my creative juices flowing again.  We’ll see how it helps in achieving the radio silence I’m longing for.  There might be way too much going on in my head to ever really get there, but we can certainly try.  And maybe, just maybe, I’ll become less of a mess- even if it’s just a little bit.