So, reading Bell Hooks' "Communion" and thinking about, as usual, my marriage and how it's working or not. Bell's contention is the feminist movement didn't work completely because men can be okay with women's autonomy in every arena but the bedroom - that men like that women learned that it was okay to say "yes" but they're not so cool with women saying "no."

I'm not so sure about it. I don't feel like there's much of a power imbalance in the bedroom. Where I feel really out of whack is in our communication about delicate subjects. I do feel like he has the power when it comes to us talking about anything that brings up negative feelings. 'Cause he basically throws a fit or gets impatient and starts rolling his eyes, and I am either intimidated or feeling like there's something wrong with me that I need to "drag out" these conversations and so I drop it - or more often than not now, don't bring it up.

For instance - we've had some discussions over the last few weeks about having a baby. Also, refinancing the house has really come up in a big way and so we've started discussions about what to do. The conversations end when he feels like they need to end. I feel unresolved, but I'm afraid to keep the conversation goinjg or bring the topic up again for fear of him getting annoyed with me. During one discussion I literally spent 3 hours preparing a list of alternatives and pros and cons in anticipation of the fact that we would need to choose some path and that he wouldn't want to take a lot of time coming to the conclusion. At the end of the hour-long discussion we had, he just lost interest in the topic and went on to something else rather than us coming to some conclusion.

What I hate about this scenario is that I feel like I have to pick my timing and words carefully. I have to anticipate how long it will take to talk about a certain subject. I can't just talk. Part of me is saying, this is just human nature. It's the same at work - if I don't want the engineers to go off on some tangent and get distracted by their own trains of thought and waste everyone's time, I have to be really clear what the agenda is and keep coming back to it.

Here's how I work: when I'm upset, I journal. When I'm happy, I don't. So, just keep that in mind when you look at the dates between my blogs.

I've noticed in the last couple of months that when I have my period I get really insecure. I feel especially fat and droopy. The skin on my face, which I once prided myself on, is flat and inexplicably broken out when I've never had acne in my life. I KNOW that my husband would rather have sex with anyone but myself. And sure enough, while I forced him to watch "Smoking Aces" he had to comment on the topless prostitute. "There's a good-looking pair of C's." He says. "I have a good eye for cupsize, don't I honey?" Sigh. I bite my tongue because he puts up with me slobbering over Christian Bale.

But, yes, my period is when I'm sure he thinks I'm disgusting, the fact that he doesn't ask about my day is magnified as a relationship chasm. How can a man who comes home and glazes over when I tell him about my day really love me when he can't muster even pretend interest?

I try to keep telling myself that it's the period talking but then I think about the menopause doctor on PBS who says that a woman's period is when her true self comes out. All the things she's been repressing all month come out. She can't hide them anymore, and that resonates with me. I want Bill to find me interesting. Signs of that would be asking me what happened during my day and showing genuine interest. But the fact that he isn't genuinely interested is disheartening.

I do realize that that's difficult when he doesn't really understand my job. I have a hard time relating to the actual work that he does, but I like his stories about his coworkers. Also, I tend to want to vent, and I know he doesn't like that, so I hold back and don't want to say anything. Urgh. "Don't talk to me unless you're happy." is the message I get. Which, from him, is understandable. He believes that despair is a sin. One doesn't burden others with negativity. It shows weakness. Sigh.

I WANT SOME GIRLFRIENDS! Please please god - send me some girlfriends to talk to or I am going to shrivel up.

I was rereading Martha Beck today about compassionate self-observation. It's something I keep coming back to. I have been very self-flaggelating in regards to my weight and eating in my life but notice that lately it's been about my age.

Compassionate self-observation. Non-judgmental self-observation. Gonna try that today.

It occurred to me last night as I was journaling at the local coffee shop that the stress I've been feeling over the last couple of weeks at work is the same sort of generalized stress I've felt as a parent. It all boils down to interruptions. As a parent of young children who never had a break - I came to function with the constant expectation that I would be interrupted by the needs of my kids. And my reaction it seems, was to stop planning things. I knew I could never start something - dinner, folding a load of laundry, peeing, without getting interrupted by someone saying "Mom?"

My life took on kind of a timeless quality. Nothing got started, nothing ended. When we ended up in Australia, the friend that was letting us stay in her basement noted that we lived like vagabonds. My children had no regular bedtime and hardly ever napped despite an obvious (to her) need on their part. I'd never been able to get my kids to sleep at a regular time apart from me. The few times that I'd tried turned into a struggle and so I figured it couldn't be done.

The two-year old that I babysat would curl herself up in her crib, stick her thumb in her mouth and go right to sleep. My two-year old daughter, on the other hand, was still nursing and I would lay with her for almost an hour trying to nurse her to sleep but most days to no avail. She wouldn't fall asleep and I felt like I'd just wasted an hour.

Bedtime has always felt like a waste of time to me. My god, it took at least an hour to get my three children to get their pajamas on, brush their teeth and settle down enough to actually go to sleep. And the truth was, at 8:00 on most nights, I was done. I didn't have any parenting energy left in me. So the bedtime routine generally was (and still is come to think of it) me, at five minutes to nine, irritatedly telling the kids to hurry and put on their pajamas, brush their teeth and get to bed. And then me, impatiently, tucking them in and becoming more and more irritated at how late it's getting and I still haven't had a moment to myself but they want to go on and on about what happened at school today. And then feeling guilty 'cause I'm impatient and just want to get away. I just want a moment without the possibility of someone saying "Mom?" In my mind, once the kids are in bed that's my official "I'm done with parenting for the day" moment.

Well, at work this week I noticed that I wasn't getting anything done because I was being interrupted so much. So much so that even when I had a chunk of time in front of me to concentrate on something, I wasn't quite sure how to start. And I didn't trust it. I could start on something but count on someone emailing or calling or someone coming in through the door. Well, I've read enough time management books to know that the only way to curb that stuff in the bud is to say no - don't answer the phone, don't look at my email, and if someone walks through the door, let them know I need to concentrate on something or close the damn door. Not getting interrupted is largely in my control.

And so, how could I apply that to my parenting? A) I need to recognize my need not to get interrupted. B) I need to say "no" more. Oh, but there is this other element. The reason I all of a sudden start researching hydrangeas on the internet in the middle of writing my report is that A) I"m afraid I will forget about it later or B) there's something about writing my report that stresses me out and I'm distracting myself.

Hello fellow blogstreamers. Haven't hung out for a while. My new life has taken some getting used to. But I reconnected with myself today after some winter hibernation. Erin Brokovich talks about a method of reflection in her autobiography - basically it's talking to yourself in the mirror. I do something similar where I imagine myself talking to a wise woman. Sometimes it's a therapist from the past, sometimes it's Oprah. Today I conjured a little Eve Ensler. And I talk to her about whatever issue it is I'm having and can't seem to figure out.

Today it went something like this:

So, my husband has a woman friend who is the ex-wife of one of his Marine buddies. Until recently I believed that she had the hots for him and was text messaging and emailing trying to get his attention and that it was unreciprocated. Then I found out that they actually have an on-going string of communciation, although I'm still not sure how often they actually talk or email. And by the way, sometimes he calls her too. It sounds innocuous enough as I write it now, but as the facts were unfolding, I was feeling very threatened and upset. And the lingering question is "Does he care more about her than me?" His response yesterday was "Of course not, I married you." But that answer doesn't necessarily work for me. My husband worked with men in Pakistan who married their cousins and treated them like slaves while they were having sex with other men and women. So, you know, marriage as an instution isn't an indication of high esteem.

At which point my higher self says "What would he say if you told him that?"

That he isn't one of those guys.

And do you believe that?

Mostly. And there is a big part of me that wants to believe that men and women can just be friends. But there's another part of me that says it's a slippery slope. If things get rocky between us, he has this stick-insect he can turn to. Yes, she's skinny. And my butt could stop a train. Which is it? Which is the truth?

(At which point Eve Ensler steps in.) They're both the truth. What you feel is the truth. You feel it's possible that she's just a friend. You don't feel it's possible.

Well, and it isn't even is it platonic or not? Sex really isn't the issue. The issue is does he CARE about her more than me? You know? How can I - the woman with the big butt who leaves piles of paper on the countertop and doesn't discipline my kids enough (according to him) compete with funny, cute, skinny her who will be SO understanding when I'm being a bitch?

Well, you know the answer to that Heather. Commitment isn't just about loving you when you are happy and pleasant. Commitment (and real love) is about loving the dark side of you as well (within limits) but being bitchy and dramatic while your on your period - that doesn't seem to be grounds for an affair or divorce. It's not is it? Nothing is grounds for an affair. It is the coward's way out. And you don't want to be married to a coward so if he's inclined, let him do it sooner than later. But do you really think he's inclined?

No, not really. But I also don't think I interest him all that much.

What gives you that impression?

When I talk to him he has one eye on the computer or basketball game and I don't get any responses from him that indicate that he identifies with anything I'm saying. I don't really think he gets me. And part of me (here we go again) thinks that he really doesn't get me and part of me thinks that he might get me but doesn't express it in a way that I recognize. And then there's the problem of what do I do with him not getting me? What I DO is whenever he has one eye on the game I either don't talk to him or keep it quick or if I do chance that he'll listen to me, I'll usually give up part way through. And then I internalize it as "I'm not interesting. I have nothing interesting to say. The things I'm interested in are stupid." So, it's kind of complex and I don't know what to do with it.

Upon which time I now walk into Borders, pick up "The Gift" by Haziz and read "Noise has a curfew." Which I interpret to mean: breathe Heather. Don't try to process everything. Just breathe and find some peace. Which I promptly ignore, write yet another email to my husband apologizing for being a nut (sort of) and writing my first blogstream post in a long while. Because, another one of the lessons of the day seemed to be that I really have a lot going on in my head, I'm sick of my life being filled with one to-do list after another. I want to have some quality moments and I need to get back in touch with myself and say "YES!" to something instead of "I have to."

Upon which my higher self smiles.