Mom is Just a Nickname

I’ve slacked off on both my posting/updating on my blog as well as dropping on other Entrecard sites.  I’m sorry for that, but my body hasn’t been cooperating with me lately.  I’m working on getting myself into a doctor so I can start feeling better.  Until then, posting and drops will probably be sparse.

Happy Spring, everyone (at least, in the Northern Hemisphere. )

When we decided to go to the zoo on Easter Sunday, we hoped the crowds would be limited due to the holiday and the weather would be decent. We were right about both! What we didn’t expect was that the day would come back to animals mating as often as it did.

Last time we went to the zoo, we saw mostly the Native Florida animals, the South American creatures, and most of the animals from Down Under. We figured today we would check out the Australian Lorikeet aviary we’d missed the last time, and the African animals. We started by taking a train halfway around the zoo. From the train, we were able to catch glimpses of just about all of the African enclosures. We got to ooh and ahh over the elephants, giraffes, and zebras from a distance. We saw native Floridian birds (storks, I think?) using some of the trees in the African area for their nests! A whole flock of these huge white birds with long beaks were perched in one tree. Some had nests, others did not. The tree was alive with them, though. The train let us off very near the aviary we wanted to visit, which worked out well.

The lorikeets were fun. They seemed to enjoy hanging upside down by one foot, looking like brightly colored bats draped across the roof netting of the enclosure. We saw several of the free flying birds land on other visitors, but none of us were so blessed. We did, however, find one bright red ‘keet which earned the nickname of “Thief” from Jillian. The other birds would politely sip from the tiny cups of nectar we offered them as a treat. “Thief” felt we humans were not up to the task. He stole my cup, dumping the nectar to the floor and then dropping the cup with disdain. He did the same to Toph, taking the time to slurp the last remains from the mostly empty cup he’d stolen. That ‘keet had personality, that’s for sure. Other keets did not have food on their minds. I saw one pair obviously involved in a mating ritual. One had it’s wings half spread, it’s head was weaving back and forth and it’s beak was open as it hissed at its chosen mate, who ignored the theatrics.

Moving on to the African area, we finally came to the rhinoceroses. I commented to X that one of his favorite people loved rhinos. Toph smirked. “You remember why she started liking them in the first place, right?” I shook my head, unable to recall why she liked them so much. After the kids had wandered a few feet away, I whispered “Why does she like them?” “Rhinos have the largest penises of all land animals,” he said. I choked and laughed. I was still laughing about it several minutes later as we moved away from the rhinos.

Later, we ate lunch (zoo food = expensive food), we pressed some coins (a tradition for our little family) and we walked out the pier to look at the river. From there, we went to the vast kids Play Park to let them run free for awhile. When we were finally done with that, the only thing left on our plan at the zoo today was to see the Giraffes.

There was a wooden boardwalk leading to a raised platform for viewing the extremely tall giraffes. The view from the platform was vast, although the breeze had a nip to it there. We watched a baby giraffe trot after two older ones. We watched two others approach the platform for the leafed branches a zoo keeper was holding out to them. For $2.00 we could have fed the giraffes a branch too! We opted just to watch from the side. They were beautiful! Their heads stood as tall or taller than the platform we stood on. And then my gaze drifted back to the giraffes in the distance. There was another pair there, one short and one taller. The taller one wouldn’t seem to let the shorter one move away. The short one would step a few paces away, and the taller one would follow closely. It quickly dawned on me that mating was on their minds…or at least, that the tall one (the male) had it on his mind. Meanwhile, the children were still watching the two closest to the platform eat their goodies. The adults on the platform were slowly realizing the mating dance that was happening in the distance. Bawdy jokes were being passed around, spoken in polite euphemisms safe for children’s ears. Everyone was chuckling. I got a glimpse of parts of a giraffe I didn’t need to see, ever. Even from a distance, you couldn’t mistake the male giraffe’s … interest.

Soon after, our day at the zoo was over. After my day at the zoo, there is no doubt in my mind that Spring is here. The animals certainly seem to think so!

During my alphabet game in January, E was for Easter Bread.  I talked about the tradition of making Easter Bread and the memories I have from years past.  Last year, I approached the baking of the bread with some trepidation.  This year, making it has helped drag me back from the fog in my mind.

Last night and this morning, I’ve once more attempted to re-create this long standing family tradition. I had to ask my parents for the recipe again (for about the hundredth time!). I’m not sure why I always lose it. I have a notebook to keep family recipes in. I have no excuse for losing it all the time! I had to call my mom as I was starting to clarify something on the recipe. But otherwise, I did it without her help!  I think my anise seed wasn’t as strong as I’d like it, but the texture is good.  Overall, I’d say this batch has been a success!

Now, to make everyone drool, I’ve got pictures of this year’s baking marathon! Click on the pictures to see them bigger!

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for passing on this family tradition. It’s means a lot to me, to dig my hands into the sticky dough and think of the generations of my family that have also stirred and kneaded and rolled and shaped this dough.

I’ve dealt with chronic depression ever since I was a teenager.  It’s often related to lack of sunlight, so it hits worse in the winter, but it’s not always to do with that.  Maybe it’s hormones.  I’m not really sure.  For all I know, it’s a food allergy.

What I do know, clearly and with intimate detail, is the way I feel when I’m in a low spot.  It’s starts to feel like I’m wading through pea soup fog.  It starts to feel like I’m all alone in the universe, that no one can help me and no one even CARES enough to help me.

Now, considering that I’ve got a wonderful husband who I’m quite sure loves me as well as two children who hang on me for attention every chance they get, I’m pretty sure (when I’m thinking rationally) that there are at least three people in the world who do care.  When I think logically, I realize that I have a large and loving family who cares, as well as many friends who love me.

The fog does not allow for rational or logical thinking.  It chews up all common sense and spits it out.  It blinds me to everything that I know is true in my world.  It even fouls the way I feel about other people.  So, I could be sitting there, sobbing my eyes out, drenching my husband’s shoulder as he holds me close.  But still, I’d feel totally alone and bereft.  Still, I’d be unable to tell that the love we’ve shared for ten years is not something that will fade away, that it’s not something that will break simply because I didn’t have the dishes done before he got home that particular day.  There is no logic to my thinking when the fog envelops me.

It’s frightening to realize how disconnected I do get.  When I can look back to the times when the fog in my brain was thickest, it all seems unreal.  I scoff that anyone could ever think like that, feel like that. Certainly, I couldn’t!  Certainly, I’m not depressed.  (Oh, a voice whispers in my ear, you know better!)  I tell myself I’m not so deep in the fog that I need to be on drugs like Wellbutrin or Zoloft.  I tell myself that a therapist would be of no use to me. I tell myself that I speak from experience there since not a single therapist I’ve ever gone to has ever been helpful.

The voice of reason, these days, breaks through the fog and speaks through my husband.  “Take the medicines. See the doctor. Go to the therapist.”  He must be sick of saying these things over and over for the last ten years, with mixed results.  At some point, he’ll get tired of supporting my black and blue spirit.  Ah. See, in that one sentence, I can see the breath of the fog sliding into my mind.  That’s how it works.  It insinuates itself into my otherwise rational thoughts, corrupting all that I think.

The fog itself doesn’t scare me.  It’s not even the low self esteem, the loneliness or the bitterness that bothers me (aside from the fact that they frustrate me!).  What bothers me is that I always wonder if or when the fog will ever drift lower than it has in years (since before my marriage).  It bothers to me to wonder if this period of depression will be the one that begins me on a journey of inflicting pain on myself, of physically punishing myself for being alone, of deciding that this family I’ve been nurturing for ten years no longer needs me and it’s time for me to move along and leave them to a life that is unblemished by the likes of me.

These thoughts scare me.  These are the thoughts that drive me to once more take the meds, see the doctors and try the therapists.  Maybe this time, one of these things will actually work.

On this windy last day of winter (as if Florida ever has a real winter *snort*), I say goodbye to my blog over at blogger.  I say goodbye to the wicked flower girl thinks out loud.  I’m embarking on a new adventure: learning the ins and outs of a “self hosted” blog.  That’s the word for it, right?  I have my own domain set up, and I’m learning how to use the wordpress.org version of blog.

It’ll still be up there for a little while, but as I get everything transferred over to here, it will slowly become dormant.  Thanks to anyone who sticks with me through the transition!