Someone recently made a comment about how much I do and I immediately responded how I always do when someone says that. “Oh, but I don’t do a lot too. Like clean my house. Or cook meals that require more than 4 minutes prep time. Or bathe.” I like to be funny, but I honestly believe that as long as I’m still finding time to watch my favorite TV shows, then I’m not doing too much. (My new favorite: Revenge – but I haven’t seen last night’s episode yet. DON’T TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS.) I know people who really do, do it all, and I don’t want to be mistaken for them. So, I always make sure to correct the person saying it to me. “I don’t do as much as it looks like I do. I assure you. I’m much more impressive on paper than I am in reality.”

But then…24 hours later…

I forgot to put dinner in the crockpot on my lunch break on Monday. I realized it later in the day and felt awful because I knew I wouldn’t be able to cook that night, I wouldn’t be home! I was actually going to dinner with my friends…something I’m not sure if I’ve ever done, just a spontaneous social gathering. So, I felt like crap for forgetting to feed my family. I called/texted/IM’ed Donnie to break the news and – on all three platforms he said something like, “No problem. I’ll stop by the store and grab something to cook on my way home.” But, what I was FISHING for from him, by apologizing repeatedly, was for him to say, “No problem! You do so much! You are amazing! It’s okay to mess up once in awhile! I don’t see how you do it all! YOU ARE A ROCKSTAR!”

So…evidently…when I’m juggling the balls in the air just fine I want to convince everyone it’s no big deal I can juggle. No big deal at all! Even if they’re standing there saying, “Wow! You can juggle!” But when I drop one of the balls? I panic. And I want everyone to say, “That’s okay! We just saw you juggling 2 seconds ago, we know you can do it!”

I’m a very weird woman.

I got so much positive feedback from yesterday’s post that it simply reminds me that for every ONE jerkface online there are probably FIFTY kind souls, who just don’t ever comment. Maybe that should be my own motivation to comment more online? To try to drown out the vitriol!

But I have something JUST AS FASCINATING to discuss today. I mean, I can’t stop thinking about this.

I’ve discussed my tendency to hide my face in the Embarrassment Pillow when watching TV because I can’t handle seeing other people embarrassed. Many of you said, “Me too!” which is awesome, of course. But there’s another weird thing I do thinking about my own embarrassment that I never thought about writing about because it’s SO WEIRD and there’s no way anyone would understand. And then…Temerity Jane wrote about JUST THAT WEIRD THING.

So, that was crazy. What? Someone else does that? Then…I read her comments…AND LOTS OF PEOPLE DO IT. Holy CRAP. My world has been ROCKED.

It’s really hard to explain this thing, feel free to go read TJ’s explanation if mine doesn’t work. But, here is exactly how it happened to me a few days ago.

First…the original embarrassing moment: I kind of misunderstood someone talking about a wedding of their child’s and I thought they were planning on inviting me so I ended our visit by mentioning hopefully seeing them at the wedding. EEK. It was obvious by their reaction that I was NOT going to be invited and I was mortified. Funny thing, I would have never thought I would have been invited anyway! I just misunderstood something they had said earlier and OH MY GOD. I still cringe thinking about it. Even though it was 5 years ago.

So…sometimes that moment replays in my head. It’s not that I’m remembering it, it actually starts to just happen again in my mind. Usually when I’m just walking around minding my own business: BAM! My brain flashes back and makes me relive the mortification of that day.

It happened a few days ago when I was walking down a hall in an office building. The second it started I thought, No! I don’t want to be embarrassed again! So I try to stop my brain from forcing me to re-live it by saying something out loud like, “Oh my god,” or “No, I didn’t.” Basically, I talk to myself – OUT LOUD – to stop myself from re-living an embarrassing moment. It happens quite often since I have quite an arsenal of embarrassing memories.

Now, I’ve probably explained this REALLY WEIRD thing I do thinking many of you will be all, “Me too!” Just like at TJ’s. And now, you know what’s going to happen? NONE OF YOU WILL UNDERSTAND. It will be like a cricket chirping in the comments and I’ll be embarrassed and THIS ENTRY will be the next thing forcing me to talk to myself in public.

But hopefully not! TJ had commenters who are as crazy as she is. I’m banking some of you all are crazy like me, too. And if not? That’s okay.

Maybe your sanity will rub off on me.

It’s funny, many of you who were kind enough to comment here on my birthday, apologized for never commenting. As I work my way through my comments I’ve reassured all of you: I NEVER COMMENT EITHER. When I write on my blog, my standards of content are quite low because – well – it’s my blog. I don’t mind just Blah Blah Blahing on my OWN blog, but I don’t want to do that on other people’s blogs. I feel like if I take up space on their website for my words, then they should be higher quality than the words on my blog. I mean, I don’t want them wishing I hadn’t commented! Which I would never do as a blog owner SO WHY DO I THINK OTHER PEOPLE DO? Because I’m weird.

Sometimes I actually type a comment and then don’t submit it. Because I worry it’s not “good” enough. For each comment I leave somewhere, I’ve probably deleted 3 on other blogs. So, I rarely comment on blogs since I’m so paranoid that the blogger will hate it. Even though I would never think that about comments on MY blog.

But here’s another thing: When I do sometimes (if rarely) comment, I don’t ever leave my URL.

It’s weird…I KNOW…but I have a irrational concern that if I leave my URL then the blogger will think I’m just commenting so that they’ll visit my blog. And I don’t want them to think that! I want them to know I’m commenting with the purest of intentions!

Isn’t that the dumbest thing ever? I NEVER think that when people comment on my blog. As a matter of fact, I’m grateful they leave their URL so I CAN visit their blog. Why do I not apply these same standards to myself? BECAUSE I AM WEIRD.

Even though I’ve gotten better about my social insecurities, I still find that they manifest in weird ways in my life. This Fear Of Commenting. Or Fear Of Leaving My URL On A Blog Comment are the ways it manifests in blogging. But there are other manifestations in the real world too. I always leave a tip. Now – one significantly smaller than I would if I had good service (I’m a good tipper) – but still a tip nonetheless. I don’t want the person to think badly of me! Even if they never filled my diet coke.

You know what else I do at restaurants? I clean up my own table. Good service or not, I want to make the server’s job easier. Because…you know…as I’ve repeated a few times: I AM WEIRD. I just don’t want that person – that I don’t know, bringing me my food – to think I’m messy! That would be AWFUL! So I make sure before we leave that plates are stacked and trash is consolidated.

BECAUSE INSECURITIES MAKE ME WEIRD. And you? Do you do completely irrational things due to your fear of not being liked? No? Just me?

I ended up having childcare issues and could only pop in and drop off my donation, but still…I DID IT. 2 years ago? I would have used the “excuse” to just bail entirely. But last night? I went, thanked her for inviting me, explained my situation, and left feeling GREAT.

Now…did I totally embarrass myself by being too loud not realizing there was a girl talking to the crowd downstairs? Yes. Did I have to be shhh’ed because of this loudness? Yes. Did that make me want to crawl in a hole and die? YES. But you know what? I SURVIVED. I still was able to put aside my anxieties and realize how happy it made my friend that I came by. And you know what? THAT’S WHAT MATTERS.

Am I ready to go to a blogging conference? Not yet. But man…I’m getting so much more comfortable in social situations. I’m so proud of myself. Just like I am after every book club session, which I’ve come to depend on with every ounce of my soul. Just like boot camp which as much about friends as fitness. And my volunteer jobs with the high school theater department…I miss everyone after Beauty and the Beast!

I guess my point? 2 years ago I did NOTHING socially outside of family events. NOT ONE THING. Now? I have several different peer groups and I’m grateful for each of them. I’m living proof that social anxieties can be conquered. Do I still get nervous? OMG. I almost didn’t go into my friend’s house last night because there were so many cars! I knew I wouldn’t know those women! AAAAH! But I did it. Because I’m learning that I feel so much better later, when I do participate. It used to not be that way. I used to feel better NOT participating.

I’m just proud. I often assume that my negative characteristics as AN OLD LADY are too ingrained to be changed. Old dog. New tricks. Not gonna happen. But it’s just not true. We can all change. It’s not easy. It’s not over night, but if we want it bad enough, and are patient with baby steps, failures and embarrassments…we can see change in our lives. And this gives me hope for all of the other improvements I’m trying to make on myself. Maybe some day I’ll learn to sew! Quit binge-eating when I’m stressed. Be less dependent on diet coke. Be more dependent on sleep. Just like I can learn to not fear social situations, maybe I can learn to be brave when I’m going to the dentist.

Okay. Probably not. Some things are probably never going to change.

Sunday night Wes woke up with another leg cramp before Nikki had even gone to bed. She and I gave him a banana and I brought him (and her, she wasn’t going to miss out on the fun.) into our bed and I rubbed his leg off and on trying to ease his pain. After an hour or two of no sleep I decided to give him a warm bath. When I got severe leg cramps as a child, my Dad would fill an old paint bucket (Cleaned!) up with hot water and I would soak my leg until the water turned cold. The warm bath helped Wes slightly and I finally got him to sleep around midnight. He, of course, was out of sorts in our bed so he woke about 4:30am for the day. So, Monday? Beat the shit out of both of us. We both went down for naps around 1pm and I slept about 2 hours, he slept almost 4. Still, not really a whole lotta’ sleep under my belt for the day. Maybe four hours Sunday night, and then a 2-hour nap on Monday, but I was still pretty beat by the time bedtime rolled around tonight.

But – of course – I can’t sleep.

This has been happening a lot lately. My mind just won’t shut down. I feel like this is probably simple to remedy with medication, but I’m not sure if that’s one of those treating the symptoms, not the cause type of situations where the medication may help me sleep, but the greater problem of not being able to SHUT DOWN MY DAMN BRAIN – never gets solved.

I wish I could get stuff accomplished, but this version of me is kinda loopy. My body and even my eyes are begging for sleep, but my mind is thinking about any sort of Crap Causing Me Anxiety. Which is usually nothing more exciting than, “Shit. Forgot to buy snacks for the soccer game tomorrow.”

It would be nice if my Awake Brain could help me organize my files or finally file the Stack O’ Things To Be Filed that is soon to be taking over my office. But my Sleepy Body tends to impair the Awake Brain’s functionality so I just stare at the piles of stuff thinking Um. What is that pile of papers for again? Maybe I’ll just throw it all away. It bothers me.

Anyway…this is one of those blog entries we bloggers all hate to write. The Can’t Sleep Blog Entry. It’s a little bit more exciting than the Here Is The Crazy Dream I Had Last Night entry but not quite as entertaining as the Guess What I Ate For Dinner entry.

So…to make up for the I Can’t Sleep Blog Entry, I’ll add a few more funny pictures at the end. And then you can tell me how to fix my brain to keep this from happening all the time.

(The first person who suggests exercise gets beaten.)

(Okay. Maybe not beaten. But I’ll probably react emotionally since I’m tired and assume you’re calling me fat and will send you a horribly long insane email about your insensitivity to my weight issues and you’ll WISH I had beaten you instead.)

Cowboy boots. Build-A-Bear skirt. 30+ year-old cardigan. Dressed for Success.

I have no idea what he was pointing at.

This is the REAL Nikki. Ignore all angelic photos I post.

They got these lip fans at Family Fun Day at the Children’s Theatre. Most hilarious things EVER.

I think part of my problem in the Social department is that I totally over-analyze the people around me and what they may or may not be thinking about me. The logical part of my brain understands that Person B is probably not thinking anything about me, but the insecure paranoid part of my brain thinks these type of things daily:

• Are my neighbors judging us because the edges of our yard still look so crappy? Should I get out there with scissors until I master the weed-eater?
• Does Nikki’s teacher think I’m trashy because I always come in to pick her up covered in sweat, grass, or grime? Or does she understand I’m just a hardworker who doesn’t want to waste a shower on a simple run to preschool?
• Do I sound too sarcastic on Facebook? I worry that since these people only see the periodic status update from me, that maybe I come off as too bitter and irritated.
• Does the checkout lady at Target wonder why I’m here everyday or does she see a lot of customers shopping one meal/day at a time?
• Was I really rude to the parent who just came by to pick up their child or was it obvious I was just trying too keep my dogs from escaping?

I’m not that judgmental in the slightest, but for some reason I assume every person I encounter is thinking the worst of me. Not only is this sad because it makes it seem like I have a crappy opinion of the general human population, but it’s pretty self-absorbed to worry about anyone thinking that much about me. Even my own friends and family! And on the logical conscious level? I’m not putting that much energy into these thoughts. But they are there, under the surface, after every encounter with every person. I’m not sure why A) I assume everyone is thinking negative thoughts about me or even why B) I assume they’re thinking about me at all. I’ve had passing interactions with people and barely was able to remember their name, much less form any sort of opinion about them in that 2.7 seconds. Why do I assume people take that quick chance meeting and build up these horrible impressions of me?

Whatever the cause for this type of insecure view of the world: It’s there. And it’s one of the traits I come back to when I wonder why I have such a hard time turning quick social encounters into friendships. Because I’m insecure and by the time I’ve completely over analyzed the initial encounter? The potential-friend in question hates me. Because I’m weird.

I have gotten better over the last year or so. If I have more than one encounter with someone I don’t avoid talking to them because I assume they think these negative thoughts. I used to. I used to avoid the person because of course – THEY HATE ME. Now? I’ve let the more logical part of my brain take over and I do the opposite. I try to assume we’re friends after that first encounter. We know each other’s names, we have _____ in common (Kids in the same school, same team, same hobby…), and we’ve already met once. The second time? I try my best to engage them more without worrying about whether or not they are confirming their previous negative assumptions about me. I’m fighting that insecure habit, slowly but surely. One of these days? I may be normal!

What about you…do you do this type of insecure evaluation of encounters? Or do you have another trait sabotaging your social life? Please share because I’d love to feel better about mine.

Those who know me in the “real world” have heard the story at least once about the time I let someone think LilZ was a girl through a lengthy conversation when he was a baby. It’s one of those staple stories either HE tells or I do. But when I do it’s usually in shame. See – LilZ had an amazing head of curly hair when he was a small baby. Everywhere we went people thought he was a girl and I never corrected them. They usually said, “What a pretty little girl!” and I would thank them and carry on. It happened too often for me to stress out about correcting everyone. And while I rolled my eyes mentally because I always dressed him in blue, that was all I did. Mainly because I didn’t want them to feel bad and since I’d never see them again – what did it matter? One day, however, someone asked me what “her” name was. I told them, and I guess since LilZ’s name is so unique (I’ve never heard of it anywhere else) then they just assumed it was a girl’s name and said, “Oh! That’s pretty. What’s her middle name?” I froze momentarily because LilZ actually goes by his middle name, his first name is all boy which would obviously give away his gender and officially make me look insane for either A) Giving my daughter an obvious boys name or B) Not correcting the woman originally. So, I did the only thing I could think of and gave him my old middle name, “Um…Ann?”

This is one of the stories that proves the length I’ll go to in order to avoid making someone else (or myself for that matter) feel bad or awkward.

Last weekend I had another story to add to my arsenal of Crazy Crap Kim Says To Make Other People Feel Better.

I was at Target and walking with AndyZ in the buggy (Yes. We call them buggies here.) to find LilZ. As I was walking past the infant section I saw a woman looking at the items on the rack as her 2-year-old daughter flipped head first out of the buggy and onto the tile floor. The sound it made when she hit was horrendous and my only thought in that brief moment was the worst. I assumed so bad that when the girl immediately jumped up and started screaming and grabbing her head, I was actually relieved. I debated for one second about offering assistance and then immediately ran over to help the Mom telling her, “I saw her fall! I’m so sorry!” (I think maybe I felt guilty for not being able to fly across the store and stop her.) The first thing the mother said to me as she embraced her daughter and looked as though she was about to cry was, “I’m so stupid! I was just shopping and not even paying attention!”

Okay. I’ve never had a kid fall out of a buggy. But – she had an infant in the carseat in the part you normally put 2-year old’s in. I’ve done that before. Put the “safer” kid in the back. And while we all think we know our kids well enough to judge whether they’ll jump out, or we watch them close enough to make sure they don’t, there was honestly: NO PART OF ME judging her. I felt nothing but sympathy as I ran to the concessions to get her some ice. Never once did I think anything negative because I know the truth: You just can’t always watch them. Yes, you can do things to avoid disaster but I’ve made risky decisions before and just hoped for the best. Some decisions are worse than others, but we’ve all made bad choices and hopefully the worst has never happened. This was nothing more than an accident and I felt awful that SHE felt awful.

Eventually an entire team of employees was gathered around us as we tried to decide what to do and I tried to ease her mind. So what did I do? I totally made up a story to make her feel better. I won’t tell you exactly what I said because I feel so stupid for possibly jinxing myself – but I basically made up a grand story about how the same thing happened to me, “So don’t you be hard on yourself. You’re not the first one this has happened to. It’s okay.”

I basically made up a story about almost maiming my own child to make a woman feel better about almost maiming hers. See? I’m officially insane.

When I left the woman she had her daughter calm and happy at the front of the store talking to management so I’m hoping she ended up being fine but I’m not sure if they called an ambulance or anything. I just got the heck out of there before my lie came back to haunt me I found myself slipping on a wet floor and cracking my skull open. That’s how karma for the klutzy works, you know.

And as usual, I’m ending this entry with completed unrelated photos! These are from yesterday’s trip to the botanical gardens to see their new summer exhibit: Tremendous Treehouses. SO AWESOME. This place is so worth the $70/year for membership. This summer even more so because the kids LOVED the new exhibit.

When MrZ woke up around 9:30 or so, I immediately passed the baton to him. I knew I needed a nap or I was going to have an emotional breakdown (I’ve not been sleeping well anyway) and tried to decide the optimal napping situation for myself. See…I am a light sleeper. Napping in my room in our small-ish house is not very effective. I hear every cry, every kitchen quest, every phone call. Also – our bedroom sometimes is a high-traffic area. If MrZ needs anything from our bathroom, I get interrupted. From the closet? I wake up.

I was faced with the dilemma…where do you go to sleep if you really need a good power nap. You need maximum sleeping done in minimum clock time. Well…I’ll tell you where I went. TO MY VAN. I reclined the back seats, brought out a blanket (it’s a little chilly this time of year) and set up a pillow. And I napped. VERY WELL. For almost 90 minutes. I only woke up because I had to pee and the one thing my minivan doesn’t have, is a bathroom. Once I came inside I couldn’t really go back out. But you know what? I didn’t need to. I slept beautifully for those 90 minutes. It was the most peaceful nap I’ve ever had.

I keep telling my husband it was the MOST GENIUS IDEA EVER. He thinks I’m just insane for even considering it, much less actually doing it. Which tells me he has never known exhaustion and parenting in the treacherous combinations I have known…or else he would truly understand the value of a quiet napping place. Either that? Or I am honestly insane. But even if I am? I am insane – AND WELL-RESTED.

True Story:

I was talking to a customer service person on the phone today regarding a duplicate charge on a credit card. All I wanted was confirmation that the charge was duplicated. But from the moment she started asking me for the security information to confirm I could be given information on the account she gave me the tone. The tone that had an audible eyeroll and annoyed sigh. She didn’t even get 2 questions out before I said, “Wow. You sound really angry already. I haven’t even asked my question yet.” Well, that was a big mistake. She just got more rude from there and started interrupting me. So – what did I do? I yelled at her again, “You’re being mean!” and I did the most awesome thing ever…I cried.

The End.

Please tell me you’ve done something similar. That when faced with rude behavior you find yourself unable to ignore it and unable to confront it successfully. Instead your emotions take over and you are written off as The Crazy Person that the culprit will later tell their friends about. Please tell me I’m not alone.

Anyone?

Excuse #1 LilZ gave me a mix CD for Mother’s Day. I thought that putting a set list up of that CD along with the hysterical thing that was his final recorded track of his own voice would be a GREAT entry. Only I’d needed him to give me the playlist because – while I love the CD – I’ve never heard of any of the songs and/or musicians before. So, I was waiting for him to give me the playlist before I could write that entry. And he has still not given me a playlist. Because he’s a lazy bum of a teenager.

Excuse #2 I have had a logo designed for some business cards! I want to show you the logo and tell you the story of why I got the logo and what I plan to do with it and the philosophy behind it all except that an entry like that requires some heart to compose. Some heart and the time and ability to dig up some links to coincide with this new philosophy because there are people who have written about it much better than I could. Have I had time to do all of that? No. So do I simply tease you with the potential of an entry? Yes.

Excuse #3 AndyZ is walking. WALKING. And I totally want to take some video and show you but I haven’t charged the camera and keep forgetting and wait…do I even know where the camera is? I don’t think I do. So, instead of blaming it on the uncharged batteries, let’s blame it on the missing camera. Yeah. That’s it. Did I mention my baby is walking? Shoot me now.

Excuse #4 I wanted to tell you about how I cried during Hannah Montana because she sings a song about how awesome her Dad is for raising her alone and TOTALLY not what I needed to hear. And my daughter thought that me crying during the Hannah Montana movie was very disturbing. But I haven’t wanted to sit down and tell you about how embarrassing it is to sob during a Disney movie until I could get the lyrics to that DAMN SONG to prove to you how dreadful it is to hear so soon after losing the father who RAISED ME ALONE. I never wrote him a song! (To which he is thankful, even from the grave.)

Excuse #5 I’m lazy. The end.