sarahsamudre: Lilo does not seem to get the “no whining” policy. I want to whine. It makes it harder when Lilo won’t stop squeaking at the door, crying for Vasant to come home. Whining is always easier to give into when you hear someone else doing it. It’s like seeing yourself cry in the mirror. You don’t want to look away. Even though Lilo and I’s styles of whining are very different, hearing her whimper makes me want to give into my own personal version of whining. But I don’t want to give into the temptation to whine. So I find myself telling the dog to “suck it up”. Dogs have no concept of “suck it up” unless you’re referring to food spilled on the floor. I have not spilled any food on the floor, so Lilo is nonplussed as to my meaning. I know it is not good to force your own emotional parameters on a being as fluffy and simple as my puppy, Lilo. Telling her to stop whining so I won’t be tempted to think about my internal whining is selfish. She just wants to follow Vasant to Bellevue. She knows he is somewhere out there. He is not here. And this concerns her. She still refuses to acknowledge the five day work week. I am still very tempted to whine. I literally fell on a sword today. I got dizzy and tripped and fell on my Elven sword, a reproduction of Arwen’s Hadhafang from The Fellowship of the Ring. That is the funniest bad thing that’s happened. Other things are not so funny and goodness, I really want to join Lilo in her very vocal whining. But I am, honestly. If Lilo could blog, it would be this awesome, self-deprecating blog that would begin each day with “Why did Daddy leave? We were supposed to go play! Mom is nowhere near as fun. She does yoga and doesn’t let me play under the bridges she turns herself into.” Her blog would end each day with “Life is the best, guys! Dad came home and we totally played and snuggled and I napped on Mom’s head and ate things and went outside and EVERYTHING.” And then she’d reblog some awesome gif sets. I suppose just because I’m not also running around the house, doing laps around the kitchen island, whining at the top of my lungs, doesn’t mean I’m not also co-pouting with Lilo. So, this is it: I’m having a very bad reaction to medicine, and I’ve been immobile for two days. When I’m immobile for one day, it’s bad, but I always battle depression on day two, when it lasts this long. The medicines I’m having reactions to aren’t new medications. They aren’t for colds or the flu or whathaveyou. They’re for chronic conditions I have had for years and will have for the rest of my life and when I do something stupid that causes bad reactions, I think about how I should know better by now, and that makes me think about how I’ll need these pills for the rest of my life and that depresses me. Our new bed came today and was the wrong size. It was a stupid mistake, but it will cost a lot of money to either get a new mattress or a bigger bedframe, and it will have to wait until January at least. This means we have to return it and spend another month or more of sleeping on the floor. This is partially okay, because it’s romantic. We put our Tempur-pedic mattress topper in front of the fire and sleep next to the couch, where Lilo sleeps, and she rolls on top of us around 6 am every morning. This isn’t okay because it’s a) very embarrassing b) inconvenient to my aging knees to get up from the floor instead of three feet above the floor c) not what I was expecting. I was very excited about a remodeled bedroom right before Christmas. All in all, being so dizzy you can’t stand isn’t so bad. Even when you fall on your sword while trying to open a window. And having to return the bed that you measured for incorrectly isn’t the end of the world, especially when you have a romantic, albeit knee-murdering, alternative. I always feel weird complaining about the little things, but honestly, stating your problems makes them smaller, especially when you’re trying to do it humorously. Lilo isn’t whining anymore, interestingly enough, as soon as I take the time to whine on my blog. Maybe she feels like I’m commiserating. Nothing calms you down like hearing that someone else is also having a bad day. If she did blog, her next post on her site would be, “I’m so proud of my Mom for getting over herself. Everyone has the right to whine a little”.

sarahsamudre:

Lilo does not seem to get the “no whining” policy.

I want to whine. It makes it harder when Lilo won’t stop squeaking at the door, crying for Vasant to come home. Whining is always easier to give into when you hear someone else doing it. It’s like seeing yourself cry in the mirror. You don’t want to look away.

Even though Lilo and I’s styles of whining are very different, hearing her whimper makes me want to give into my own personal version of whining.

But I don’t want to give into the temptation to whine. So I find myself telling the dog to “suck it up”.

Dogs have no concept of “suck it up” unless you’re referring to food spilled on the floor.

I have not spilled any food on the floor, so Lilo is nonplussed as to my meaning.

I know it is not good to force your own emotional parameters on a being as fluffy and simple as my puppy, Lilo. Telling her to stop whining so I won’t be tempted to think about my internal whining is selfish. She just wants to follow Vasant to Bellevue. She knows he is somewhere out there. He is not here. And this concerns her. She still refuses to acknowledge the five day work week.

I am still very tempted to whine. I literally fell on a sword today. I got dizzy and tripped and fell on my Elven sword, a reproduction of Arwen’s Hadhafang from The Fellowship of the Ring. That is the funniest bad thing that’s happened. Other things are not so funny and goodness, I really want to join Lilo in her very vocal whining.

But I am, honestly. If Lilo could blog, it would be this awesome, self-deprecating blog that would begin each day with “Why did Daddy leave? We were supposed to go play! Mom is nowhere near as fun. She does yoga and doesn’t let me play under the bridges she turns herself into.”

Her blog would end each day with “Life is the best, guys! Dad came home and we totally played and snuggled and I napped on Mom’s head and ate things and went outside and EVERYTHING.” And then she’d reblog some awesome gif sets.

I suppose just because I’m not also running around the house, doing laps around the kitchen island, whining at the top of my lungs, doesn’t mean I’m not also co-pouting with Lilo.

So, this is it:

  • I’m having a very bad reaction to medicine, and I’ve been immobile for two days.
  • When I’m immobile for one day, it’s bad, but I always battle depression on day two, when it lasts this long.
  • The medicines I’m having reactions to aren’t new medications. They aren’t for colds or the flu or whathaveyou. They’re for chronic conditions I have had for years and will have for the rest of my life and when I do something stupid that causes bad reactions, I think about how I should know better by now, and that makes me think about how I’ll need these pills for the rest of my life and that depresses me.
  • Our new bed came today and was the wrong size. It was a stupid mistake, but it will cost a lot of money to either get a new mattress or a bigger bedframe, and it will have to wait until January at least. This means we have to return it and spend another month or more of sleeping on the floor. This is partially okay, because it’s romantic. We put our Tempur-pedic mattress topper in front of the fire and sleep next to the couch, where Lilo sleeps, and she rolls on top of us around 6 am every morning. This isn’t okay because it’s a) very embarrassing b) inconvenient to my aging knees to get up from the floor instead of three feet above the floor c) not what I was expecting. I was very excited about a remodeled bedroom right before Christmas.

All in all, being so dizzy you can’t stand isn’t so bad. Even when you fall on your sword while trying to open a window. And having to return the bed that you measured for incorrectly isn’t the end of the world, especially when you have a romantic, albeit knee-murdering, alternative. I always feel weird complaining about the little things, but honestly, stating your problems makes them smaller, especially when you’re trying to do it humorously.

Lilo isn’t whining anymore, interestingly enough, as soon as I take the time to whine on my blog. Maybe she feels like I’m commiserating. Nothing calms you down like hearing that someone else is also having a bad day. If she did blog, her next post on her site would be, “I’m so proud of my Mom for getting over herself. Everyone has the right to whine a little”.