I think I was in my 20’s the last time I did this

All through high school and college, I listened to music constantly, and, as most kids that age do, I related it to my own life. And I would post song lyrics on MySpace because that’s how I was feeling and I didn’t know how to express it myself.

And today, I had Pandora on in the background at work and I heard “In The End” from Linkin Park. And all of a sudden, I started to cry. And then I recalled another Linkin Park song (because they are all kinda angsty after all) that I had always liked and I cried some more. And I figured what the hell, I’ll regress a bit and post the lyrics on my blog, because, in all honesty, they really do reflect where my head is at right now and I really don’t seem to have the capacity to express it in my own words.

“Numb” Linkin Park, Meteora (2003)

I’m tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
Don’t know what you’re expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)

[Chorus:]
I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
I’m becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

Can’t you see that you’re smothering me,
Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control?
‘Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take.

[Chorus:]
I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware
I’m becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.

And I know
I may end up failing too.
But I know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you.

[Chorus:]
I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware.
I’m becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.

[Chorus:]
I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there.
(I’m tired of being what you want me to be)
I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there.
(I’m tired of being what you want me to be)

Okay. Done with my regression into immature youth.

Thanks for enduring.

I long for the patience of a Fairy

Fairy Dog is a saint.

Seriously.

The Peach is… Crazy.

Seriously.

The Peach has spent the last week racing around the house, squealing like a little pig and chucking, with a force greater than a person her size should produce, anything she can pick up off the floor. Preferably at someone. Usually Fairy Dog. We’ve managed to curb the hitting, which was becoming a real problem, but she still hits the poor dog and he just lays there and takes it. Last night, she decided his ears and tail looked like fun and started playing with them. Then she yanked on them. Then, in a very non-gentle manner, she led Fairy Dog around the living room by his tail. She had made it all the way to the couch before we even noticed exactly what she was doing. It looked like she was just walking next to him, but then she shifted direction and we saw the grimy little digits firmly twisted up in Fairy Dog’s big, fluffy tail.

And Fairy Dog? Calmly followed her, emitting a tiny whimper when she pulled just a little too hard. And when we finally yelled at her to stop (Don’t judge me), he turned and, to the utter delight of The Peach, snuffled her face. Then he went and laid down next to My Mom.

In the past day she has thrown the following items (with great accuracy) at Fairy Dog’s head.

  • wooden blocks in various shapes and sizes
  • at least 3 couch pillows
  • underpants (Princess Punk’s I believe, I don’t have Spongebob panties)
  • 4 different shoes
  • a fork
  • a sippy cup
  • her dress up jellies (little plastic cinderella dress up shoes which, when not flying through the air towards Fairy Dog, are donned and click-clacked on the floor while she goes around in circles with her hands over her head like a ballerina)
  • My Mom’s phone
  • almost My Mom’s nook (thankfully caught her before she did that)
  • plastic stacking rings
  • cloth nesting boxes (made by My Mom and absolutely awesome)
  • various food stuffs that she decided she didn’t like/didn’t want/was compelled to get out of her sight immediately
  • 2 board books
  • 1 picture book
  • a DVD case
  • the latest vampire/werewolf/Twilight Saga-like novel Princess Punk is reading
  • several binkys, which we can never seem to find at nap time but are readily available to chuck at the dog when The Peach is awake

And these are the items that she has actually walked over and clubbed him with

  • wooden train cars (I’m not talking Thomas here, these things weigh a good pound each)
  • soccer ball
  • tennis ball (I swear, I don’t know why she doesn’t throw those, that would actually be ok, but no she walks over and konks him on the head with them)
  • a DVD case
  • Princess Punk’s phone
  • Princess Punk’s nook (didn’t catch her that time)
  • a flip flop
  • a baby doll
  • a stuffed bear
  • a large T-Rex (kind of a soft plastic. Not quite foam, but softer than regular plastic)
  • a rug (swear to god, she picked up her lamb rug off the floor and hit him with it)
  • My Mom’s footrest (a large-ish cloth cube. The Peach actually grunted when she picked it up but it’s size did not deter her from slamming it on Fairy Dog’s back)
  • her hands
  • her feet
  • and yes, her head

And he patiently lays there and winces if the objects hit him in the actual face. Since I tend to lose my temper with this child after about the second time she throws something in my general direction (or in the opposite direction if it’s something I’m trying to take away from her), I am consistently astonished by his steady trust in her, his endurance of her abuse. Maybe because she’s little enough that she hasn’t caused any permanent damage.

Or more likely, it’s because of the other things I’ve witnessed. Like The Peach walking over to him and feeding him some chewed up something, directly out of her mouth like a mama bird feeding her chicks. That was gross. And we told her not to do it again. But Fairy Dog thought it was the awesomest thing EVER.  Or her carefully putting a pillow on his head (I don’t think she could get it under his head without him getting up), covering him with a blanket and tenderly patting his back while crooning, “nigh nigh beyuh, nigh nigh…”

He adores her. Plain and simple. And unlike me (who also adores her), he puts up with anything she does, because he’s hers now and his universe revolves around her.