An Unfunky Life

Vacation, Family and School

2009-07-20T00:39:00.003-04:00

It's been a few weeks. I won't apologize, because first of all, no one reads this anyway, so there is no one to apologize to. Secondly, I am writing here for me. I like to write, this is kind of my journal, and I will write when I want to. So nyah. Third, I was busy with the rest of my life. I had vacation, we had family visiting and it has been CRAZY busy. Fourth, I am in school. I write a lot for the class. In fact, I write for all of the class since its online. And finally, there's no point to writing if one has nothing to say. And I didn't for a while. But now I do.

So...there's my family. Over the fourth of July I spent some time with my younger brother Rob and his family. They came to our house and hung out for a week. They are terrific. The visit was terrific. I enjoyed them thoroughly. We barbecued, we went to parades, took bike rides, had campfires and made s'mores. It was terrific. It was so nice to hang out with them. The other part of the visit I really enjoyed is that my niece and nephews are starting to get more comfortable with me. See, I'm not as cool as my younger brother. He does silly things with the kids. He makes them laugh. He sung them to sleep each night by singing them the "Pencil Neck Geek" song. It's a silly song he made up about how they are all pencil necked geeks and need to go to sleep now. He does all these funny E.T.-type moves and gets them laughing. It riles them up a bit, but it also helps them to feel a real bond with him. The kids all love him for this stuff and he can be a hard act to follow. I am just not that funny or cool. So sometimes I feel overshadowed by his charisma.

But having the kids around for the amount of time they were around helped them to get over being shy around me a little I think. I cooked meals for them, made sure they had clean clothes, provided places to swim, dig, bounce and run. I think they might have sensed that even though I am not the life of the party like Rob is, I love them too. Very much. My nephew Wesley lost a tooth while at the Fourth of July parade. I put it in a gold box for him to take home to his mother, and put it in his back pack. I put bandaids on his knees when he had a minor crash with his bike. I took he and his sister (my niece) to Canobie Lake park. I make them lunch, I take them on walks, and read them stories at night.

I hope that these things leave traces of my love on their hearts. I don't expect them to remember all these little things. In fact, it's fine if they don't remember any specifics. I just hope that all of these little things combined helps them to know that I truly love them. I hope that when and if they think of me they have fond thoughts and feelings.

My nephew Noah is so adorable. He just turned 3 in June and his language skills are growing by leaps and bounds. He is adventurous (make sure you know where he is at all times Gummy! ) and he has a terrific laugh.

Scotty, Noah's brother, loves his Mommy so much. He has to check in with her regularly. It is such a contrast to his all boy ways when he is running around the yard with his cousins. (I think of them as the Three Musketeers, as they do everything together whenever they spend time together). He can be running around the yard playing guns, or hunting, or making jumps for his cars and trucks, and then he will take a minute to go to his Mommy, first three fingers in his mouth, and ask for his blanky. He likes to rub the tag on his blanket. He has done this since he was a baby. It is so soothing to him. Jackie, his Mom, and I have talked frequently about how the fingers he sucks are the same ones she did as a kid. I wonder if thumb/finger sucking is genetic?

Wesley is my oldest brother's (Billy) boy. He is eight. He is lightning fast, quiet, and sweet. I have found it hard to get to know him because he talks so little around me. I think he is a bit intimidated by me for some reason. But I think he is loosening up some though. He loves to play Wii games. He loves bike riding. He loves anything physical.

Brianna, my niece, is Wesley's sister. She is six and so beautiful. She has thick curly black hair. She has this lovely skin and she wants so badly to be with the boys doing what they are doing. But, as I well remember being a sister, she is often excluded from the boys' games. But that's okay because she can hang out with us girls. She loves to swim, is a good painter, and loves to read about horses, ponies and princesses.

I'm sad. I love these kids so much but I'm not sure how often in the future I will get to see them. My brother and his wife divorced, and you know how that can go. I am trying to maintain a friendship with her, and I hope to keep contact, but sometimes these things can be difficult. This is so hard because I like Rachel. I don't fully understand what happened between her and Bill, my brother, but I feel its none of my business anyway. I hope that I can continue to have a relationship with her and the kids, but I am not good at managing conflict. I am hoping to stay away from issues surrounding why she and Bill are no longer married and stick to keeping in touch with her and the kids.

Only time will tell how this goes I guess.

So anyway, after a really fun week with my niece and nephews and my own family, its back to life as usual. I am in my second class of my graduate program, and I hope that I am developing some leadership skills. I feel completely overwhelmed with the work, but I am enjoying the class. I think I might have to reprioritize my life a little so I can continue on in this program however. The pace is just out-of-control. I think I need to focus a bit on time management skills. Just to be sure that I can complete everything. I got an A in my first class, Business Communications, so I am pleased. I also got a 97% on my first paper in my second class, so I am pleased with that. But I need to make sure that I keep a handle on things or they will get away from me.

And sleep. I need sleep on a regular basis or I will fall apart. I have already had one major illness. I need to be sure it doesn't happen again. I can't burn the candle at both ends forever. So I have to get more strict about a routine.

With that in mind, I think I need to go to bed now. I will write more soon, when I have something to say. Check in if you like. I will try to post something new every once in a while.

Can We Move Away from Lukewarm Please?

2009-06-21T02:07:00.003-04:00

The school year is over. Phew! I am so glad to be shut of it. I know that those of you who know me will probably be surprised to hear that because my children are doing well in school, but believe me when I say this: I am glad to be done with this school year.

Why? You ask. I'll tell you why. I am glad to be done with this school year because I am tired of dealing with people who don't have my children's best interests at heart. This year has emphasized for me that people in general do only what is absolutely necessary to get by. My children are all very intelligent. I am not bragging when I say this. I am just stating a fact. They think about things in interesting ways. They continually surprise me by the complexity of thought that they are capable of on a regular basis. If you are connected with me through Facebook, you will see a good example of what I mean. My daughter wrote a poem for a class. It is amazing. And she writes stuff like this regularly.

And the school does nothing to encourage her writing ability. Her teacher this year was terrific. But she had a class of 28 to manage. She barely had enough time to handle the requirements of MCAS preparation, let alone focus any attention on a budding writer.

The teacher my son had this year for kindegarten does what she does. The kids tend to like her and benefit from her...my daughter loved her when she had her. But my son could take her or leave her. He did very well in school and brought home glowing reports. But when asked if he would miss her he said, "Nah. Not really." She did nothing memorable with the class, and I can't recall one single thing that Christopher came home bubbling about. Nothing.

So my children cruise through their educational experience unchallenged. They don't stretch themselves. They aren't challenged. They are learning how to conform, to not rock the boat, and to do what is expected of them.

I suppose I should be happy that they are getting A's on their report card. I should expand my chest with pride when reading the "Is a pleasure to have in class" comments. Part of me is glad to see those things for sure. Having friends whose children are really struggling with the world of academia makes me appreciate that I don't have those struggles. (Boy, did that sound snotty or what? Sorry.)But I am not completely happy. I'm not happy because my children can become background. Because they do not have a "problem," they can get passed over. Their talents may not get recognized, polished, or developed. I want them to develop what they have to the fullest potential.

So what do I do? How do I help them to develop the talents and skills that they have? I want them to enjoy being children. I don't want to load them down with extra "work," but I want them to challenge the things they take for granted as constants. I want them to ask why and what if. I want them to poke, stir, add to, change and create. I want them to play. I want them to inquire, investigate and hypothesize. So where do I turn?

My children are amazing, talented, creative, smart, funny, compassionate and kind people. I don't want those things to wither on the vine, unnourished. So where do I turn to feed these soul traits of theirs?

Parenthood...What a Rush

2009-06-19T15:46:00.004-04:00

I love watching my children. I am so glad that I am a mother. We are on this crazy ride together and I don't know how to work the control panel, but I don't care. I get to ride with them. I am honored. I close my eyes tight from fear sometimes, but then other times I raise my hands and scream in excitement as we take the next turn and go down the hill.

So life has been exciting lately. It's one of those times where you raise your hands in the air and wave them and scream. My daughter's softball team was in the playoffs. She got to be a part of something really fun. They had their ups and downs, they played their hearts out, and in the end...they took second place. It was a thrilling ride.

Sure, there were parents who were living vicariously through their children. There were a few occasions where I felt I wanted to scream at some of the umpires for forgetting these girls were 9-11 year olds and not pro-level players. And there were times that I wondered if my daughter really wanted to play or if I was pushing this too hard. But in the end, it was a terrific experience for her to be part of a team effort. It was good for her to see that working together for a common goal can turn some real results that feel wonderful.

And you know what? I think she really had fun too. She learned about how to play the game, and I think she learned a little about herself. She learned what was for her and what was not for her. I think we'll sign her up again next year.

Learning about competition is a good thing as well. I mean, so long as she isn't learning to be cutthroat about it. The world is full of competition. She isn't going to get praised for just existing by anyone but her parents. She has to learn to put her best efforts forward. She has to work hard to earn what she gets, and Mickey Mousing it won't cut it. She also needs to learn to be part of a team. To cheer her teammates' efforts on, to pick them up when they are feeling low and to come together and create the positive energy one needs to succeed. She needs to learn to be a good sport too. To learn how to be graceful in the face of defeat. To acknowledge when someone is just better at something than she and that she needs to practice more. Those are important lessons for her to learn.

Christopher learned something this spring too. He learned that he can actually enjoy something we sign him up for. He is the "close your eyes tight and resist" type of guy when it comes to trying new things. He doesn't always understand that sometimes, even though you don't know what something will be like, it might be a good thing. He was so angry with us at the beginning of the spring for signing him up for soccer. He cried, threw tantrums, and refused to participate. But after his first day he discovered that he actually likes soccer. He made some friends, got to do some running (which he loves), and learned a little bit about how to play. So now, not only does he like soccer, but it is actually his favorite activity (yes he did say that).

My Daniel is learning things too. He is learning how to express himself appropriately. He is so affectionate and creative and imaginative. It's wonderful. But he has the soul of an artist I think. With that creativity comes a moodiness. He can go from one extreme to the other in the blink of an eye. Sometimes his emotions get a hold of him and like a tornado, they whip him into a frenzy. He screams, he yells, he stomps his feet and tells you that he doesn't want to see you ever again. But then the storm passes, and he is throwing his arms around you and telling you that he loves you a billion times infinity.

I am so proud of him lately. He is learning how to manage the intensity of his emotions very well. Despite his reluctance to do things that seem hard to him, he is coming along and learning to manage how he feels.

He is learning to follow directions as well. Instead of hiding when he is told to do something, he actually makes an attempt to do it. He may get distracted by other things, he may not complete the job, but he does try. Instead of stuffing his dirty clothes under the love seat, he puts them on the washing machine or near (if not in) his hamper.

Now if we can just get him to hold his hands in the air and scream in excitement, life will be good.

Confessions of a Stow-Away Student

2009-06-02T23:16:00.002-04:00

So I decided to go to grad school. It's something I have been wanting to do for the last 18 years, and I finally just jumped in and began. I was worried about the money. I was worried about finding the time to study. I was worried about having the ability to achieve academically at this level. I was (and am come to think of it) very worried. But I decided that I wouldn't let that fear keep me back. So I took the plunge.

I am attending Kaplan University Online. My first class is Business Communications. I really hope that I do well, but if my first graded assignment is any indication...I'm in for trouble. I spent HOURS fretting over this assignment. I worked and reworked it. Finally, I turned it in. It was a "Request for Funding" memo. I was clear, I was concise. I had no spelling errors. I had well-structured sentences. I was creative. But I never ACTUALLY asked for the funding. When my teacher pointed this out, I felt like such an onion head. How could I miss adding the main focus of the assignment?

So I am going to go sulk right now. I am doubting my abilities and I think I will console myself with ice cream. Rocky Road I think.

Mother's Day ... Thoughts on Being a Mom

2009-05-10T04:01:00.007-04:00

So here I am at work. It's just after 4 am and I am 3 hours from the end of my overnight shift. It's been pretty quiet here. A few calls here and there, but nothing really exciting. I've had some time to think. Maybe I will take this time to reflect a bit.

Lately, I have been thinking about what it means to be a mother. What I want for my children and what I should want for my children. I don't know if I have the answer to what being a good mom is, but I hope I can learn before my kids grow up and leave.

So what do I want for my children? What do I think is important? What do I want them to learn, to absorb, and to make a part of themselves? Hmmmmm. First, I want them to be happy, secure individuals. I want them to know that they are loveable. That they deserve love. That they matter. I don't want them to feel entitled, that's different. I don't want them to be demanding. But I want them to be confident. To rest assured that they have a place in the world. They belong. They are important. They matter. I want them to know that this belonging and mattering doesn't depend on their performance. If they screw up, they still belong. They are still loved.

I also want them to know that anything worth having is earned. The world is not their oyster. Or maybe it is if they are willing to be the one to swim to the bottom of the proverbial ocean to get the oyster themselves and pry out the pearl. I have been trying, since my children were very small, to teach them the value of hard work and earning their way. I think I have been going about it all wrong though, as their focus seems to be on money. They feel money is the enemy. Money is bad. I talk with my children frequently about money and how our home and the things they have and enjoy cost money. I don't try to drive it down their throats, but when they complain about not wanting their father or I to leave for work, I will often tell them that we need to go so that we can afford the things we need to live or the things that we want to enjoy.

But I think somehow I am causing them to miss the point. Money is ONLY a tool. It is neither good nor bad. It is useful to obtain the things we need and want. Period. But we shouldn't pursue it endlessly. I think I need to help them focus more on which things we should want to pursue. To my way of thinking, pursuing an understanding of God and those we love should be our main focus. When I refer to those we love, I include love and understanding of oneself. That is one of the most crucial people we need to love and understand. Without this love and understanding, often our perceptions of others become skewed. We have insecurities that cause us to filter out the wrong information when we are dealing with family and friends. If I can teach my children that they are loveable, worthy individuals who are capable of contributing to society in meaningful ways they will be open to learning from life.

So what is my job as a mother? I see my job as multifaceted. I think part of my job is to provide guidance. While I may make many decisions and apply certain rules to their behaviors, I think my overall function in this area is to guide my children. I will do my best to provide the tools they need to learn to make good decisions. Hopefully I will allow them the space to practice making decisions. Some of their decisions will be good ones. Some not so good. I pray I have the strength to let them stand on their own two feet whether those decisions are good or bad. And I pray that they feel they can come to me when their decisions turn out to not be so perfect. If they fall I don't want them to feel they cannot come to me and ask for help.

It's a tough balance. I have high expectations of my children. I expect them to try hard in every area of their lives. I refuse to let them say they can't do something. I don't expect them to be perfect at what they do, but I do expect them to try their very best at everything they try. I hope they experience this expectation as faith in their abilities and not intolerance. I do not want my children to grow up with the idea that everything is going to be handed to them. But I also don't want them to be afraid to fail.

My daughter is a straight A student. I am proud of her. She is in fourth grade and she always brings home glowing reports from school. More important to me than the grade letter however, is the section for the teacher's comments, where the teachers all say that she puts a lot of effort into her studies. She excels in many areas of her studies, but I am most proud of the fact that all her teachers say that she tries hard at everything she does. She told me the other day that she is disappointed with herself if she brings home anything lower than an A. If she gets an A- she is upset. I told her that if she is trying her hardest, it doesn't matter if it's an A or an A-...or even a C. I hope I am doing the right thing telling her this. I don't want her to think a C is okay if that isn't her best effort.

My son Christopher is a wonderful student too. My worry with him is that he is actually a little too hard on himself. He is learning to read. He is doing a great job according to what his teacher says and what I see. But when we read together, he gets so upset if he can't sound out a word. He hits himself in the head and will cry. I tried to tell him the other day that it was okay to make mistakes. He was in school because he doesn't know it all. That was the point of being in school. Everyone makes mistakes and that is okay. He responded with, "I make more mistakes than anyone though Mommy." How do I help my little guy? How do I guide him to make his best effort without creating unneccessary stress for him?

Then there is Daniel. Daniel is almost four, and he is a complicated mix of self-assurance and temper. Trying to motivate my little guy to follow directions and want to participate has been quite a challenge for me. My approval of him has nothing to do with getting him to do what you would like him to do. He can be the sweetest, kindest little boy or the most defiant, frustrating, oppositional individual. It all depends on how you handle him. I wish I could say that I always handled him correctly, but I don't. He does not like to be yelled at, that is for sure. When you really stop and think about it, who does? No one likes to be yelled at. The effect it often has with my Daniel is to make him want to do the direct opposite of what you want him to do. Sometimes I think as he grows that defiance of authority can serve him well. He will question things. He wants to think for himself. He has such a strong ability to imagine the possibilities, create the environments of his choosing, and to love. He is outgoing, friendly and curious. He frequently chats with the neighbors, the cashiers at the grocery store, and random strangers on the street. The world is an interesting place full of things that spark his imagination.

I know that I can't make them learn life's lessons. I know that I am only a part of their world. I am not their whole world. There are other influences on them. Some good (their father), some not so good (television), and I cannot control who they become. I am barely begun on this journey of parenthood, but I feel the weight of this endeavor so deeply.

What will my children become? They are already moving out of that stage of their lives where they need me to be ever present. It's hard for me to see that happening. I am not the central player in their lives any more. My role as mother is already shifting. I am moving from the "Mom as Source" of all role to "Mom as Conduit to" role. I'm not providing them with all their needs anymore...and that's kind of scary for me. Now, lest you think I don't realize the others in our lives that meet the children's needs, let me assure you that I haven't forgotten. They have a terrific father who works hard to provide them with the things that they need. He is our breadwinner, he is a major source of light and humor. He is a steadying force. He is the quiet reassurance that my children need. The lighthouse to their tidal force. But I am talking about my role as Mom here.

So my children's needs are shifting. Their need of me to be their source of all stimulation, food and support is shifting. Now they need me to act as a conduit to experiences. They need me to assure them that they are important. They need me to play games with them. They need me to provide them with experiences that cause them to think about the world around them. They need me to give them a home base to explore from. They need to know that they can venture out into the big wide world and that there is still a place for them when they return either triumphant from their days' adventures, or beat down. Whether we are celebrating or applying healing salves, they need to know there are those who care about them waiting for them at home.

Boy I hope I am doing that job well. I want to foster independence for them. I want them to feel competent as individuals. But I want them to know that on those occassions when things don't work out as they had hoped, I and there father are here for them. I think I do okay teaching them to be independent, but I think my bedside manner when they are not doing so well needs work. I think I am a bit of a hardcase at times. I don't mean to be, but I want my children to understand that the world is not going to change to meet them. They must adapt to the world around them. But I hope I am remembering while I teach them that that they are young. They need. And it's okay to need.

I also want to teach my children the importance of being decent. I was talking with a distant family member today and he put it like this: I see my role as parent like this: I need to teach my children not to be dicks. Crudely put, but dead on in my opinion. That one phrase captures exactly what I want for my children. I want them to have manners, to think about others, and to have integrity. In short, I want to teach them to not be dicks.

We live in a society that is too permissive in my opinion. When someone is rude it is chalked up to a bad day, or it is ignored. On the surface that is. I don't believe that anyone truly forgets if you are rude to them. They can forgive and move on for sure, but when you are rude to someone it isn't forgotten. It is added to their mental database describing who you are to them. Teaching your children to have manners helps them to learn the important role they play in the world around them. It helps them to remember that they are not the only ones who have feelings. It helps them be aware of the needs of others, even if only in a superficial way.

My son Daniel often holds the door for me. He will proclaim, "I am a gentleman Mommy." I usually smile and tell him that yes, he is indeed a gentleman. I hope that this behavior continues as he grows. But it won't unless we encourage it. This encouragement and teaching needs to extend past the superficial act of holding the door though. I must teach my children to think of others' needs in addition to their own. I want my children to grow up knowing that they are part of a larger community. That they have a responsibility to care for that community. It's not just about themselves. There is a larger picture to consider.

So, as Mother's Day begins, I approach it humbly, hoping that I am equal to the task. I hope my children understand how very special they are. I hope I convey to them how important a task raising them is to me. I am hoping as the years progress I will deserve the title of Mom.

My five things:

1.) I am grateful to have such wonderful, smart, creative, beautiful children
2.) I am grateful to have a wonderful partner to raise these children with
3.) I am grateful for those around me that I can learn from to become a better parent
4.) I am grateful for good friends who help support my efforts to be a good mom
5.) I am grateful for the chance God has given me to be a Mom.

I arrive at 3pm? No wait midnight? No wait 2:30am?

2009-04-26T01:38:00.005-04:00

So after I finished talking with Brian, I went and checked in with the airline. My flight was scheduled to depart on time, and I was there in plenty of time. I sat down in a chair facing the airline's boarding desk, and whipped out my book.

The book I was working on is called "Heart of a Father." This book is a collection of essays from men who either have children with a congenital heart defect, have a heart defect themselves, are married to someone with a congenital heart defect, or are the grandparents of a child with a congenital heart defect. Some of these fathers have children who are babies, some have children who are grown, some fathers' children have died, and some are living with all the implications of having a heart defect themselves.

I became absorbed in the book. The writing is terrific. I cried my eyes out for the men in these essays. The stories of love, loss and support are amazing. They write about how the decisions that they make affect their relationships with their children, how their marriages endure or fail, and how they cope with the stress of needing to work versus their desire to be by the bedsides of their loved ones.

The more I read, the more connected I became with these men. I was devastated after reading the essay of one dad who held his baby as he died in his arms. One dad wrote a series of love letters to his daughter who died at the age of five. Another dad wrote a poem about losing his son.

As I stopped to wipe my eyes, I looked up and noticed that the flight information at the gate had changed. I jumped up and ran to the Continental Airlines desk. "What happened to the flight to Newark?" I demanded. "Where is it?"

"Are you Mrs. Turner? Didn't you hear us? We called for you overhead." The gate attendants looked incredulous.

"No! No I most certainly did NOT hear you call for me! I was sitting right there!" I pointed to the seat in front of the gate.

"We did call for you several times Mrs. Turner, I'm sorry," the attendants looked apologetic.

I instantly burst into tears. "You don't understand. I haven't had a vacation in several years. I haven't been away from my three young children in more than 9.5 YEARS!" I felt hopeless. My ship was sunk before it left port. My chance to kick back, relax and gain a new perspective...gone. What was I going to do? And how was I going to explain this stupid mistake to Steve? Steve had graciously agreed, without argument, to allow me to take this solo trip, and I had spent money that we could not afford to waste. Now that the money was spent, I would STILL not get the rest I was looking for and it was all my fault. How could I miss the flight? Why hadn't I heard them calling me?

"Hold on Mrs. Turner, we are looking to see if we can help you now," the gate attendants looked sympathetic. They said, "We know what you are going through, believe me. We understand the need for a vacation. Hold on." There were two of them. The one with the long dark hair was biting her lower lip and working busily at a terminal, checking flights.

I anxiously awaited their response. Shifting from foot to foot I tried to be patient. I tried to let them work their magic without my interjections. Finally, the woman with the shorter,curlier dark hair and pretty eyes smiled, "We found you a flight to Columbus,OH where you can connect with a flight to Dallas." Oh yay! I was so relieved. To still be able to go on my little adventure. To have a shot at relaxation. The possibility of a fresh new perspective returning to me.

"Oh thank you so much!" I gushed. "I really appreciate your help."

"Do you want a window seat or an aisle?" the woman with the long hair asked.

"I don't care, really. I am just so happy that you could help me at all, I'll take anything," I was feeling buoyant again.

So I was back on track. I was on my way to see my sister. I would be a little later, but I would still get there. I sent a text message to my sister, letting her know that I missed my flight and that I would be arriving a bit later than originally planned. After texting her my flight information I decided to call her anyway, to be sure she knew the score.

When I got Cathy on the phone she asked me, "Do you like Jimmy Buffett?" Are you kidding me? LIKE Jimmy Buffett? I LOVE Jimmy Buffett. Absolutely LOVE him. "Well, Jay got us tickets to go tomorrow night," Cathy informed me. "I'm on my way to go get them right now," she said.

I didn't care how I got there, I decided. If I had to walk there, I would make it in time for Jimmy tomorrow night I told myself mentally. I would not miss the Parrothead scene for all the cheeseburgers in paradise.

This trip was looking up for me. Okay, so I missed my initial flight. I managed to get on another without it costing me anything extra, and it looked like the trip was shaping up to be extra fun. I have always wanted to go to a Jimmy Buffett concert. The cult following he has is legendary. The crowds that tend to follow Jimmy just want to have a good time. Most of them have clearly visited Margaritaville a time or two before coming to the concert. Many are aging Yuppies. But all just want to have a good time without wanting to hurt anybody. I doubt if any of them have visited a mosh pit, but I could be wrong. Jimmy's good time vibe is just what I needed.

My flight to Dallas from Columbus was cancelled due to weather. Apparently there were hail storms moving through the midwest and the airport in Dallas was diverting aircraft because of them. I was quickly rescheduled on a flight to Houston. I thought to myself, "I wonder if Cathy would be up for a road trip to pick me up in Houston?" I hoped that would not become necessary, but didn't know what I should do if I couldn't get a flight out of Columbus to Dallas. I remembered that Houston was a big city. The last time I was there to visit my brother we drove two hours and were still in Houston. Boy I hoped I didn't get stuck in either Columbus or Houston.

The gate was changed. There were some complications due to weather issues, so the overhead announcement was that there was a gate change for my flight from Columbus to Houston. I grabbed my bags (boy was I glad I only had two carryons and no checked baggage), and headed for the gate.

When I got to the gate that was announced on the overhead it did not list Houston as the destination. Monterrey was listed. I approached the desk and was informed that yes, this was the correct gate, they were just waiting for the plane to arrive from Atlanta. Feeling nervous and worried since I had already missed a flight, I uneasily sat down in a chair at the gate. Reflecting on how easy it would be to miss an announcement overhead (it could be very hard to understand what was being said sometimes), I spied a group of flight attendants. I approached them and asked if they were going to be on my flight. When I was informed that yes, they were the flight attendants for my flight, I decided right then and there that I would follow them. Since my plane could not leave without this group of flight attendants, I would stick to them like glue.

One of the flight attendants seemed to have a direct line to the flight tower. She got frequent updates on what was going on and when we were expected to be able to board the plane. She also got an advance warning of a gate change, so it was a rather simple thing to follow the group of the attendants to the new gate. I felt assured that I would be boarding the correct flight if we didn't get cancelled due to the weather.

Finally we were called to board the plane. I quickly texted my sister that I was indeed boarding and got in line. I listened closely and made my way into the plane and found my window seat as soon as I was able to. I buckled my seatbelt, pulled out my book, and waited for the plane to take off. And waited. And waited. After about an hour, the pilot informed us that he was sorry, but for some reason the crew did not have a flight plan in with the paperwork and that they could not take off until they found the flight plan. We would have to wait at the gate until the flight plan was found. If we so desired, we could get off the plane and stretch our legs while they searched for the paper work that they needed.

Nothing doing! There was no way I was leaving the plane, I informed my young seatmate, a high school aged soccer player. I settled down to read, reasoning that if the crew wanted the plane cleared, they would inform me. Soon enough, the pilot was back on the overhead informing us that a flight plan had been located, they were very sorry for the delay, and we would be taking off momentarily.

The in flight movie, which they gave to us free of charge to make up for the delay, was Marley & Me. The ads for this movie make it seem as if the movie is a comedy about the foibles of raising a dog with bad habits. He is lovingly called, "The worst dog ever!" throughout the movie. But the movie is really about the life of a family. The struggle to balance personal satisfaction and happiness with the needs of a young family figure into the story line quite prominently. It struck me as a movie that couples should watch together and discuss. It was very provocative. It was emotional. It was poignant. And timely...at least as far as my life is concerned.

Eventually I did arrive in Dallas. It was 2:30am. I was tired and sore. But I was there. My sister was there, looking relieved and tired. We hugged briefly. She joked around with me about how everyone who goes to visit her misses their flight or has some kind of problem. She took me to a breakfast place that was open all night. We had lattes and banana nut pancakes. It was yummy. Then we went to bed, not to arise until 1pm that afternoon.

On the drive to her place, my sister remarked that I was remarkably calm for the kind of day I had just had. I made the comment to her that after I knew I could still get to Dallas, the rest of it was just fine. I could live with more connections, later arrivals and such, just so long as I knew all would be right in the end.

My five things:

1.) I am grateful for those at Continental Airlines that were willing to help me
2.) I am grateful for Jimmy Buffett
3.) I am grateful for my sister Cathy, who is the queen of hospitality
4.) I am grateful for Jay, my brother-in-law who assisted with my weekend of relaxation
5.) I am grateful for the ability to develop and exercise patience. Good things really DO come to those who wait.

Live Where You Play

2009-04-25T02:14:00.006-04:00

So I took my trip to Dallas and, in a word, it was FABULOUS!!! Not without a few hitches, but it was truly fabulous. I am soooooooo glad I went. I hope you don't mind listening to me babble about it as I think I came away with some interesting food for thought. It may take more than one post to truly attend to my thoughts on this trip, so bear with me, okay?

First, let me say, my sister was terrific. Thank you Cathy,if you are reading this. I can't express in words how timely your hospitality was. Not just your hospitality, but your willingness to let bygones be bygones. We have had some differences in the past and truthfully I was worried that they would come into play while I was down in Dallas, but they did not. I had fun, I rested, I relaxed, and I recharged. I was able to do some thinking, and adjust my perspective a bit. It was also a huge help to be able to just have fun. My sister was thoughtful and attentive, and did exactly the right amount of planning. Her ability to go with the flow and be responsive to what I needed was admirable. I wish more people understood how to respond to someone in need (including myself).

I'll recap my trip for you so you can see what I mean. First, I caught a taxi to Logan airport. It was a bit pricey, but I don't do it often, so what the hey? The taxi arrived on time, at 6:45am (ugh!I am NOT an early riser) and we were off. The gentleman who was my chauffer was personable, professional, and prompt. He knew his way around the airport and delivered me to the curbside area for Continental Airlines. All I had to do was step out with my luggage (2 carryons), and check in with skycap.

I was two hours early for my flight, so I felt pretty comfortable. I went through security with only minor problems - my luggage was searched and they found a pair of scissors that I did not know was in my bag (thank you to my children for that I think). After confiscating them I proceeded through without further event.

After ascertaining the location of my gate, I decided to get breakfast at a bar in the area. I sat down, ordered my coffee and french toast, and pulled out a book I was going to read. It was an advanced manuscript copy of a book a friend of mine had asked me to read and review for her, called Heart of a Father. I had begun reading it the previous week, but hadn't had the time I was hoping for to complete it. I was hoping to read it on the flight so I could fill out her survey and give her feedback on the book prior to her sending it to her publisher.

While I was fishing around in my suitcase for the book, a young man pulled up to the bar. He had all his luggage stacked on what looked at first glance to be a wheelchair, but upon taking a second look turned out to be a hand cart. This gentleman looked to be in his early 30's, and the way he was dressed made me think of guys who like to hike in the wilderness, go rock climbing, and love extreme sports of all kinds. He had a bandanna on his head, wore hiking boots, and had a watch on each wrist.

When he pulled up, he said to me, "Do you mind if I pull up here? I don't want to crowd you or anything." I replied, "No, not at all, that's fine." I located my book and pulled it out to read.

"Waitress? Can I please have a beer?" he asked. I thought, "Geesh, this guy is already drinking at 8:00am? Definite problems there." Oh, how judgemental we can be. Without even knowing this man I had already assessed the situation and decided that he had, "issues." When I caught myself doing that, I mentally scolded myself, "Now, you don't know anything about this guy. Maybe he's just travelled from somewhere and his time zones are all goofed up. Besides, it's none of my business."

The "Guy with the Beer" extended his hand, "Hi, I'm Brian. What's your name?" I told him that I was Sheri and inquired about the two wrist watches. "Oh that. I wear the watch with my current time zone on my left wrist and the watch with the time zone I am going to on my right. That way I'm not calling people at the wrong time. It pisses them off when you do that. It also keeps me from missing flights. I've done that before. You know, you think you have two hours between flights but you don't account for the change in time zones."

I proceeded for the next hour and 15 minutes to have one of the single most interesting discussions I have ever had with anyone. I asked Brian what he was travelling for, business or pleasure. He told me both. He said he was a travelling surgical nurse on his way to work in Hawaii for the next six months. He was leaving his wife behind and was hoping to earn her ticket soon.

Brian soon began to inquire of me what my travel was about, business or pleasure. I told Brian that I was a stay at home mother with a part time third shift hospital job and that I was in desperate need of some rest and relaxation. I was hoping to regain some perspective on my life by taking this trip and needed to have some fun.

"You know, God likes us to have fun you know," Brian commented. "Most people don't realize that, but God loves it when we have a good time." Hmmm. Interesting. Most people I talk to either don't care at all about what God wants (if they believe in him), or they think God is only interested in us insofar as we can sacrifice all we are and have in his service. Short term missions to Uraguay to rebuild schools and evangelize the heathen masses. Soup kitchens. Ministries. Sunday schools. Picking up our cross. That kind of stuff. I don't often hear about a God who wants us to go rock climbing, hiking, water skiing and who likes to hear us laugh.

Tell me more Brian. Brian told me about his life and his philosophy. He said, "You gotta live where you play." Why slave your ass off for 50 weeks a year to spend a pantload of money to travel to where you have fun for a mere two weeks? That's no way to live. Brian told me about his life. He found several acres of land on a mountaintop dirt cheap, plopped a simple house on it with a generator and a woodburning stove, and he lives there with his wife year round. People tell him he's crazy to live that way...needing a snowplow on a regular basis to get to his home, having to chop cords of wood to keep heated, and navigating through the occassional blackout by firing up his generator. But he loves it. The manual labor helps him to clear his mind of clutter. He doesn't need a lot of money, and it allows him to pursue his passion as a travelling surgical nurse.

"I always feel like I have to be 'on' I told Brian. I never get to just enjoy life. I have chores, I have obligations, I have committments. I don't have fun."

Brian responded, "Take a bump." Huh? What are you talking about Brian? Before I had a chance to ask the question, Brian said, "If you are ever in a position where the airline asks you to accept a bump from a flight and you have the time, do it. It's totally worth it. And you can get some wonderful R&R that way, really." Brian let that thought sink in for a few moments."You know, I have been bumped 3 times from my flight to Hawaii, and I have almost earned enough for a ticket for my wife to come to Hawaii with me. In addition to that I have had the time to just relax. I don't start my job until Monday, so I can afford to just hang out. The airline has paid for my hotel and given me $600 towards another ticket I can use for my wife," he paused. "It's a great way to relax."

Thank you Brian, I thought. As I was thinking this Brian ordered another beer. I found myself thinking of that Jimmy Buffett song, "It's Five O'Clock Somewhere." Brian was travelling to Hawaii, and I don't remember how many hours behind or ahead of us they are, but I was sure that if he were there, having a beer would not seem so odd. The next time the waitress came by my table, I decided to order a Mimosa. I found myself internally toasting Brian and his philosophy.

The conversation shifted to technology. Brian wanted nothing to do with laptops, cell phones and the like. He was more into writing with an old typewriter he found at a landfill. He loved the clackety-clack of the keys and felt that it was more closely tied to his writing than the quiet click of keys on a desktop or laptop computer. "But I will probably eventually need one," he conceded sadly. "It's the wave of the future. Everyone MUST have access to these annoying devices." He refuses to use the internet, and more power to him. He views himself as one of the last hold-outs, refusing to be sucked into a world of instant gratification. Far too many people see what they want on the internet, hit a key, and presto! The item in question is delivered to their doorstep.

The world of instant gratification and technology led us to conversing about parenting styles. I personally object to raising my children to be connected to computers, television or video games for any real length of time. "When I was raising my children as youngsters," Brian said (and this was where I found out my assessment of his age was all wrong...he was 51), "if it was sunny outside they were told that was where they needed to be...outside. Go look at frogs, birds, bugs, whatever. Go play baseball, football, frisbee. Do whatever "girly" things you can outside. I didn't care. But they were not going to be indoors." Brian and I agree on that subject. It was refreshing to talk to someone else who saw a problem with teaching their children it was okay to be sucked into the mindless drivel on the television, or to play endless rounds of video-games that desensitize them to violence (I know, get off the soap box...but NO, I will not, it's my blog and I can say this if I want to)or to sit in front of a computer that pretends to have answers but doesn't really have good filters. Go outside. Interact with the world. Cut the cords that tether you inside during the sunny blissful days of childhood. Pick flowers. Throw mud. Ride your bike.

The Mimosa went down quickly as we talked more and I felt the drink going to my face, as alcoholic drinks usually do. I am a real lightweight when it comes to drinking and I often finish a drink with my face crimson and heated. I checked my phone for the time and saw that there was approximately a half hour before my flight departed. Even though I was thoroughly enjoying my conversation with Brian, I was anxious to get to my gate as I was fearful of missing my flight (how ironic I would find out later).

Brian got up, shook my hand, and then hugged me. It was nice to talk to someone who got it. Someone who saw how deceptively easy it is to get sucked into a busy life full of nothing. Full of computers, internet shopping and television. Full of empty jobs, oversized empty houses, and devoid of heart.

If Brian was any indication of how my trip was going to be, I was encouraged. Maybe I was making the right decision by going. Maybe it wasn't selfish of me to want to get away for a few days and regroup. Perhaps God had something to say to me and was using Brian to do it. Maybe he had more in store for me. Boy, I couldn't wait to hear it if so.

My five things:

1.) I'm soooo grateful for my sister Cathy
2.) I'm grateful for meeting Brian
3.) I'm grateful for a husband who can support my needs
4.) I'm grateful for possibilities
5.) I'm grateful for renewal

The Passion vs. The Presents

2009-04-11T23:57:00.003-04:00

Easter is once again upon us. I feel kind of lost when it comes to this subject with kids. On the one hand, there is the joy of the Easter Bunny. They get so excited talking about what the fluffy-tailed night visitor might leave them. They always ask to leave carrots for him, to help him recharge for the rest of his night's journey. They love the egg hunt we do in the morning - this year it will probably happen as I am coming in the house from my night shift at the hospital. They work as a team to find eggs and divide the spoils up evenly.

And I love giving them these things. I try not to be too materialistic with my children. While it is undeniably fun to receive gifts, I don't want them to focus all of their energies on having and receiving these things. Spending time with your family, having new and interesting experiences, exploring your beliefs and thoughts about God and the Universe, and sharing close relationships with loved ones and friends is what I want my children to value. Not things. Things pass away. Things get broken, outgrown and old. Things often create stress, whether the stress is related to acquiring them, keeping them or sharing them, things always create stress.

During the year, my husband and I do not buy a whole lot for our children. Rarely do they receive new toys or clothes throughout the year. They have what they need, but they do not get everything that they want. That is on purpose. I think it is important to teach children that life is not about getting things. It's about what you give. But as I said, I love giving them things that make them happy. They're kids. Kids are simple. They are easy to please. How many times have you heard about the baby or toddler that plays for hours with the box the gift has come in? Many times all it takes to make my daughter happy is a few kind words, or to know that you have really listened to her ideas.

My daughter is adorable. She wants to do a presentation to her class about mythical creatures and how they really do exist. She has her evidence of Santa, provided last Christmas by Santa's failure to take his glasses with him and the fact that he accidentally dropped a glove and his sleigh license. She has the money left by the tooth fairy. She wrote a note to the Easter Bunny this year asking for him to leave some evidence of his existence. She told me that she intends to scientifically prove that these creatures exist.

She has begun to ask me if Santa and the Easter Bunny exist. I didn't say no. I told her today that I believe in their spirit. The idea that someone is out there who is unselfish to the point of trying to give so much to others is moving to me. Whether Santa was actually a person long ago or not, I want to promote that spirit of giving. Is it wrong of me to want to promote that spirit? Is it wrong to do it in this way? My daughter responded to my comment about believing in the Spirit of Santa by saying, "Well, I believe in him AND the Easter Bunny as solid, ACTUAL beings. I mean, how could they leave such wonderful gifts if they weren't solid?"

The other issue that troubles me is that we are currently struggling with the subject of lying with my boys. I have had to on several occassions punish Christopher for lying to me. The latest situation involved, as I said in a prior post, him telling our pediatrician's nurse that I was not home when she called. I was indeed home, and I was very angry at Christopher for telling the caller that I was not there. Am I being a hypocrite? I don't want my boys to think that lying is okay...and perhaps they will if they feel these myths of Santa and the Easter Bunny are being supported by me and Steve. This feeling is closest to the surface when I am tucking my boys in at night. Tonight Christopher asked me if the Easter Bunny was like Santa. "In what way honey?" I asked. Christopher responded,"Can he see you when you are sleeping?" To which I replied with an emphatic, "Oh, yes he can, so you better go to sleep." As I leaned over to kiss Daniel on the cheek he asked me, "God can see you when you are sleeping too, right Mommy?" I of course told him that yes, God can indeed see you when you are sleeping. "God doesn't lie, right Mommy?" was Daniel's next question. "No, God does not lie. God tells the truth all the time," was my careful response. Meanwhile I was thinking, "what are they going to think about me as they get older and learn about Santa and the Easter Bunny?"

And finally, we arrive at one of the biggest, thorniest (if you pardon the complicated pun) issues. The crucifixion, death and ressurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. This is what Easter is REALLY about, right folks? The fact that our Lord and Savior was willing to humble himself to come to earth in the form of a human baby, be born in all the blood, sweat and tears that that involves, and live a human life for what we think to be 33 years. That Jesus developed and grew within his family and accepted his earthly parents' authority until he was old enough to fulfill prophesy. The very idea that Jesus spent his days in human form teaching, helping and loving others is amazing. That he put his own human needs last and helped the very lowest of the low is a tough act to follow. That he was willing to give of himself to beyond the point of death is humbling to think about. That he could have wiped out the Pharissees, the Sadduccees and Pilate with a single look if he so chose is powerful. That he instead accepted the cross he was offered, didn't run and knew that in order for humanity to live he must die is stunning. All this is incredible, and we haven't even touched the topic of the resurrection yet.

How do I communicate how important a step this was for humanity to my young children? My children, at this point in time have difficulty thinking past the concrete concepts of the here and now. They understand hunger. They know what thirst is. They are well acquainted with desire and temptation, but they couldn't explain what they are. The need for redemption is not something that is so simple to communicate to a three year old. Even a five year old is not quite ready to grasp the concept. My nine year old is probably ready, but I struggle with some of the images that the crucifixion, death and resurrection present. I can't sanitize it for her, but it is a very violent story. The idea that human beings could nail another person (even though they are really God incarnate) to a tree is horrifying. That they would leave them on this tree, unable to move, in deep suffering is horrendous. That he was forced to wear a crown of thorns is cruel. To explain that he was stabbed with a spear to make sure he was dead is the stuff of nightmares for a three year old.

These things only describe the beginnings of what to a young child is the scariest kind of ghost story they could hear. To hear that the body was taken down from the cross, wrapped in linens (like a mummy) and hidden in a tomb is way too much fodder for a young imagination such as my Daniel. I would feel abusive as a parent to then proceed to tell him about the resurrection as described in the Bible. He would be terrified.

So do I hold off sharing the truth of the Easter story until he and my other children are older? Or is this a great disservice? Is substituting the Easter Bunny story, while fun, robbing them of the true meaning, or allowing them a grace period? I hope that I am allowing some room for grace. I am holding a place for Christ with the Easter Bunny. I am stretching my children's minds with fanciful tales of this rabbit who delights in leaving gifts in preparation for learning about the true gift the human race was given on this weekend. I am giving my children time to develop their hearts and minds. Time to develop the capacity to absorb the importance of the Passion. To see it as more than a horror story that will give them nightmares.

On Cleaning and Consequences

2009-04-11T00:52:00.006-04:00

So...a few things to talk about here. First, don't fall over, but I went on a cleaning spree. I got rid of all kinds of clutter on my main floor, I did laundry, I cleaned bathrooms, I mopped floors, I was an animal. What is up with that? I hate cleaning and I usually feel so unmotivated to do it. I mean, if you could clean and it would STAY clean, that would be one thing, but it always gets messy again and it drives me nuts. It makes me feel like my attempts at cleanliness are futile. I mean, why bother when in 20 minutes or less it will just be a mess again?

Nevertheless, I went crazy cleaning. I am hoping to keep up the momentum. But friends keep telling me it is a pms thing. Or a full moon. So it will probably not last. But for now I will ride the wave. I will make use of my manic cleaning behavior while I can.

Speaking of cleaning, Christopher is in BIG trouble with Daddy. He had a friend over for a dinnertime playdate. That won't be happening again anytime soon. I was asleep (had to work tonight) and didn't see what happened...and didn't want to look when the yelling and crying began. Apparently Christopher and his friend thought it would be a good idea to destroy furniture and make a HUGE mess in our play room throwing around toys and stuff. This is an ongoing issue for our middle child. He just joins in when his friends start trashing things. He doesn't stop them or say anything to us.

How does one teach a young child about respecting their home? They don't understand the work that goes into maintaining a home. Perhaps he will learn as he spends his morning tomorrow cleaning the playroom by himself. Daddy was very adamant that he would be doing that tomorrow morning. And I think that is exactly right. The natural consequence of making a huge mess is that you have to clean it up. It's just exhausting arguing with young children about follow through. You know as a parent you have to follow through, but it's just so aggravating to have to. But you do it no matter how aggravating otherwise you raise kids who are out of control and show no respect.

The other issue we are currently struggling with is lying. My son thought it was okay to tell a nurse who called out house the other day that I was not home. This was most definitely a lie and I don't know how to break him of doing these things. I keep explaining that if I cannot trust him that he won't be allowed certain priveledges like riding his bike up and down the street with his sister. But this is tough because you can never really know if you cure them of lying. You can only hope that you do. My daughter never lies as far as I can tell. But maybe she's just better at not getting caught. You never can be 100% sure.

On a positive note, my daughter got her report card and is on her third consecutive term of straight A's. Not only is this good, but she also gets wonderful comments about her conduct and the amount of effort she puts into her work. It's terrific. She is developing some good study habits and I am so proud of her. Her daddy keeps joking around with her about how his parents never saw report cards from him that were this good. She is a high honors student and we are so proud of her.

Which brings me back to my son. I am proud of him too. He is a good boy. He behaves in school, he gets good grades, and he is so smart. I don't want to compare the two of them and make him feel like he is not as good as his sister. He is. He justs needs some help learning proper behavior. He's only 5 1/2 for crying out loud. Boy I hope that that is what I am conveying to him. I don't want to go too easy on him, but I also don't want him to feel he can't be good. He really is a good kid.

My youngest is so imaginative. He is emotional, fiery, and creative. I love him so much. My heart wanted to break today because he decided not to eat his lunch. He was told that if he didn't eat he couldn't have ice cream...well,he preferred to play. When his siblings got their ice cream and he didn't get his he was devastated. He sat down on the floor, refused to sit in a chair and said, "I don't love you. I don't want my new shoes." He then proceeded to cry the most heartbreaking cry you had ever heard. I wanted to give in, but I held fast. He has had the most difficult time accepting that rules are rules and it is more important with him than the other two to make the rules be the rules.

I couldn't tell him how much I sympathized with him. I needed him to feel the sting of his choices. But oh, how sad I did feel. I know how much he wanted to play. So I harden my heart and hope that this is the last time I have to endure this scene, knowing that it most likely isn't.

It's...Mine...Isn't it?

2009-04-03T00:42:00.003-04:00

So I'm going to Dallas. I found a "cheap" (translate under $400) ticket to Dallas/Fort Worth airport in April, and I'm going. I feel burnt out and unhappy and I need to recharge. I've said that in earlier posts. I've also said that I absolutely hate it when someone whines about a problem but doesn't do anything about it. So I'm going, hopefully to do something about this problem.

I'm unhappy. Don't really understand why, but I am. I'm not doing a good job as a mother and a wife. I need to recharge, to get some perspective. To do something to refresh the way I look at my life.

Lest you worry, constant reader (ha! who am I kidding? no one reads this blather anyway), I have discussed this trip with Steve and he says he is ok with this. He will miss me he says, but he wants me to be happy. If this trip will help to do that, he is for it.

There's the question...will this help me to be happy? I sure hope so. I don't want to take the trip, come back, and feel the exact same way as when I left, but just have the ticket to pay off on my credit card. I think part of the problem is that I don't exactly know why I am unhappy. I just am. I'm thinking that "getting away from it all," will help me to gain some perspective, some rest, and to come back to New England with a new world view of things. If it doesn't, I don't know what I will do.

But when I think of that, my next thought is, nothing you are doing now is working, is it? I can't just do nothing. I'm sinking into despair and I need to claw my way out. I love my husband and family and I owe them a mother and wife that isn't feeling depressed, overwhelmed and sad all the time. Steve (my husband) is doing his best to provide his family with a good life. I almost feel as if being unhappy is being a jerk to him. I don't want all his hard work to feel like a waste of time. I don't want him to feel that its futile to try to make things work. I think that's where we are headed unfortunately. I don't want him to feel that way, but I can't pretend I am happy either.

I have tried to talk to friends. They help some, but the deep sadness never really goes away. They advise reading the Bible, going to counselors, reading self-help books, writing. I have done these things. They haven't helped. I have prayed, I have yelled, I have tried to build exercise programs, go on "girls nights out," and had a glass of wine or two to relax. It hasn't helped. I have tried to turn the focus away from myself...volunteering, throwing myself into raising my kids, getting a part time job...and yet that sadness is always sitting there, like a stone.

There are those of you who have recommended medication. I've tried that too. It works somewhat...but there are always issues with medication. Side effects. I don't need to belabor those here, but suffice it to say that I think that screwing around with medications to help alleviate my depression played a part in landing me in the hospital last year. Enough said.

So why Dallas you ask? My sister lives there. There are several reasons to go to Dallas. First, I have NEVER been to her home. She has lived out in Texas for several years and is making a life for herself with her husband. She has been back East a few times, but I have never made the effort to go out her way. Mostly because I have in the past always thought about the cost for the whole family to go...and we just don't have it.

But I got to thinking the other day...and one ticket isn't nearly as prohibitive as five tickets. So I decided I would look into it. I would love to see her home, her puppy (she has a Jack Russell terrier named Calli), and get to know her man a bit better than I do. He strikes me as the silent type...maybe he will not really hang out with us, who knows, but it would be nice to get to know him better.

I really wish I was closer to my sisters than I am. We don't really know each other that well. Maybe this trip won't change that any, but maybe it will. I won't know unless I try, right? I wish my sisters felt that they could rely on me, but they don't. I'm not that important to their lives.

Another reason to visit my sister? I guess you could say that I want to observe the "other life." The life of married adults without children. Don't misunderstand, I love my children, I want my children. I just find it hard to NEVER have time without them. When I told my daughter Allison I was taking this trip she was angry with me. Very angry. Because she wasn't invited.

I think that is part of the issue involved with this trip too. I never feel comfortable saying that I want something to myself. I know that I am not the only mom out there to experience this, but its sometimes hard to get others to admit it openly. The tough thing to admit is this: sometimes we don't want to share. Sometimes we want things for ourselves. We don't want to come up with an explanation for why we want not to share, we just don't want to. I think it's because we are expected to share EVERYTHING. It starts from the very beginning. When we first find out we are pregnant. We are sharing our body with a newcomer. They are growing inside of us. And it is a miracle. It is wonderful. We wait to feel the first movement or "quickening." We rush home with that ultrasound, the first physical proof that we are indeed a host to our little one. A good host makes sure that all who are present are comfortable and have what they need. So we go about our business making sure that our precious visitor has what they need...enough vitamins, enough water, exercise, the latest in technology designed to listen in...

Then the baby is born. The baby comes out, squishy, messy and loud. The baby is beautiful yes, but also loud and demanding. They need comfort, they need food, they need warmth. You share your body again. You nurse them. You hold them. You take them into the bed with you. You are still one.

The baby grows. They cry. You respond. You donate your sleep. You donate your wardrobe to spit up and leaky diapers. You change your shirt and laugh off what a mess it is. You give up hair appointments because you can't seem to fit it in around their nursing schedule. You let the condition of your home slide because your baby needs you. The laundry can wait.

The baby grows and begins to notice the world around them. They need you. For comfort. They want to explore, but they are unsure of what they find. You donate your patience because they cannot bear to let you leave the room. You become their touchstone and that is a good feeling. Knowing that you can provide security, warmth, safety.

The baby grows. They begin to walk, climb, tumble and fall. You donate your affection. They get scrapes, bruises, bumps and abraded egos. Your kisses are a salve that heals all wounds and that feels oh-so good inside, knowing that another human being values your kisses so much that they will insist that you come from far away to administer the panacea of love.

The baby is no longer a baby. They are a toddler. They learn to talk. They tell you "I love you" and "I want that." You are thrilled that they are learning to express themselves. You remind them that they no longer need to cry to get what they need and that they can "use their words." You donate your time to reminding them, explaining their world to them, reasoning with them, and teaching them the fine art of negotiation. They learn to say "No" and they learn to accept when you say "No" to something that they request.

The toddler becomes a preschooler. They are testing the limits of your affection. They throw tantrums. They lie. They break things. They fight with siblings, their friends and you. They refuse to do what they are told. You donate your time to researching the best discipline methods, how to teach a preschooler etiquette ("No, you should not tell that lady she is fat!"). They take classes. Form friendships. You donate your judgement sometimes, to help them make good choices in their friendships. Sometimes you withold your judgement so they can develop their own judgement. You hang out with people that you may not otherwise spend time with due to your desire for your children to make friends and develop relationships.

Your preschooler becomes an elementary school aged child. They learn about authority, they test authority, and they make their first steps into the world without your close supervision. You aren't there all day to see what they are exposed to. You donate your hope to the idea that they are not being exposed to the wrong things, you donate your time to field trips, your money to fundraisers, and your concern to the issues that they bring home to share with you over their afternoon snack.

As your children grow, you sacrifice your dignity, your energy and your ego to their close scrutiny. This is hard if you aren't a secure individual. It's something that you do joyfully, but not without cost to you. As you stand there with dinner, carefully prepared and listen to the chorus of "Do we have to eat this?" sometimes you want to walk out the door, and go out to dinner alone. The thought of pouring yourself a few cocktails while making dinner in preparation for the critique session coming is very appealing. But if they have a friend over for dinner, you probably reason that it would be unwise to leave a vapor trail behind as you answered the door when their parents arrived at pick up.

So is it really hard to understand why I don't want to share? When I try to quietly, surreptitiously, open a candy bar and eat it all alone and wind up faced with a child with an outstretched hand and "Can I have some?" in their eyes and on their lips, do you begrudge me my frustration?

I think this trip to Dallas is mine and you can't have it.

Five things:

1.) I am grateful that my husband at least tries to understand
2.) I am grateful that my husband cares about my happiness
3.) I am grateful that I have a sister to go visit
4.) I am grateful for my friend Dawn (you know why if you read this)
5.) I am grateful for good music and funny comedians to cheer me up.

Gardening and the Ability to Be Here Now

2009-03-28T01:25:00.005-04:00

I started my garden today. What a job. I'm planning a 10'x20' garden plot. Probably going to make it a salad garden. If all goes according to my plan. But jeesh! Breaking ground is a tremendous amount of work. There are so many roots, rocks, branches and such that it is such slow going. I hope I have what it takes to stick with it. Otherwise the pain I caused my knees using the spade to dig was for nothing, right?

Well...maybe not. I have been kind of rethinking how I approach my life lately. See, for so many years I have been focused on the end product of anything that I do or produce. If the end product isn't going to be something special, then I haven't really wanted to put in the effort to do whatever it is. I think it's that New England, Puritanical work ethic thing rearing its ugly head. Don't get me wrong, I value a strong work ethic. I think its an important way for a person to find a purpose in life. But sometimes...every now and then...I think that maybe, just maybe, there is tremendous value in just BEING.

This is not exactly a new concept for me either. It's just one that I am revisting I guess you would say. When I was in college all those years ago, part of the Core curriculum was an Outward Bound-type experience called "La Vida." All students were required to go on La Vida or take the equivalent course as a weekly gym class. As anyone who knows anything about Outward Bound knows, there is much camping, hiking, bush whacking, cooking over open fires, eating of "gorp" (good ole raisins and peanuts), rock climbing, rapelling, partaking of nature, reflection, and an extreme lack of showers or toilet paper.

One of the first things we had to do before we left for the trip was to agree to leave behind all signs of technology...no iPods(back then they were walkmans), no cell phones, no watches, no radios. The reason for this? To make sure that we were experiencing our lives in the moment. The idea of La Vida is to slow down and take time to reflect on what is happening in your life right now. My particular group had a motto, "Be Here Now." All these years later, I still remember it. I still try to remind myself to Be Here Now. I don't remember the names of the "sherpas" or leaders we had for our trip (Pam and Larry maybe?), but I remember the motto. I remember enjoying the La Vida experience thoroughly. I remember buying into what they were saying lock stock and barrel.

For that trip, I was a lonely, overweight young woman who truly felt that she was part of a group for once. The others that were in my group (Mike, Jack, Rick, for some reason I don't remember the girls though...interesting...)included me. I didn't feel like an outsider for once. I was not in great shape. I know I slowed everyone down, but I loved the outdoor experience.

We hiked for miles as part of that group, carrying 50lbs in our backpacks. Sometimes we were on marked trails, but sometimes we were not. Sometimes we had to hack through bushes, bramble, and thorns, hoping that at least one of us knew how to use a map and compass. Thankfully, Jack was an Eagle Scout if I remember correctly. He was very confident about making his way through the bush as I recall. The only thing that seems odd to me is the pairing of my memory of Jack as an Eagle Scout with another memory of him...getting hypothermia...and having to be warmed up...or did he volunteer to help warm the other member of our group up? I believe it was one of the other young women in the group...hmmmm....

I remember Mike Fink. He waxed very philosophic. He also reminded me of John Cusack in "Say Anything," because he refused to say what he was going to be after college. He didn't know and didn't want to go on job interviews to try to prove to human resources at Company X that their company was "THE" company for him. He didn't drink the kool aid. He didn't want to buy anything sold or processed, sell anything bought or processed or process anything bought or sold. I admired that in him and I wonder where he is now and what he is doing these days. Did he finally relent and drink the kool aid or is he somewhere living a fabulously free life?

And I remember Rick. Rick was a music major. He seemed to want to dabble in a lot of things. He had a lot of different interests. Mostly women it seemed. But he liked to read, he liked to be out in nature (I think), and he loved music. He helped me deal with a lot of the physical challenges of LaVida by singing with me. He was friendly, and could at times be really funny. I remember him singing "Don't worry be happy" at a campfire. We somehow altered the lyrics in some cute way I don't remember very well and co-opted the song for our group for the trip.

I remember a part of the trip we had to do without our guides or "sherpas." We had to find some campsite with the clues that they left for us. We found said campsite, pitched camp, and started our own private rituals for relaxing. I remember deciding it was a beautiful night and that I was going to sleep out under the stars. I laid all my things out...put down my ground cloth and sleeping bag. I remember talking with Mike who made himself a little ditch to put his sleeping bag in...it looked pretty snuggly. So he went to sleep in his little cocoon in the ditch and I fell into my exhausted slumber under the starry night sky...and woke up to the cruelest, iciest rain I can ever remember. It felt like the sky literally opened up its wrath on me alone. I was freezing...and I started crying immediately. It was awful. My friend Mike fared no better except he didn't cry. His sleeping bag became drenched as it was, as we said earlier, in a ditch. Said ditch filled with rain. Icy rain.

I remember our "solo" experience. For part of La Vida we had to be by ourselves in the wilderness. We could only have a journal, a pen, a whistle, a canteen of water, and our Bible. We were supposed to reflect on things. To think, to sleep, to read. To "Be Here Now." I loved having that time. I looked at the rain on spiderwebs, I read a bit of the Bible (don't remember which passages), and I wrote. I still have the journal somewhere back home in all my stuff.

I remember a twelve mile hike during which...we were supposed to run, but I was not in good shape...so walking was the best I could manage for most of it. I remember that Jack and Rick promised me a steak dinner if I ran the last five miles (so if you are out there somewhere Jack and Rick, you still owe me). I ran those last five. But not really for the steak dinner. I ran because they convinced me I could. I ran because I wanted to be part of the group. I ran because I could "Be Here Now" and screw the aches and pains I would feel later.

I don't know if Mike, Rick, Jack or any of the other members of my group remember any of this. Maybe they do. Maybe I made some kind of impression on them. Maybe I didn't. Who knows. But I DO know that they reinforced for me the importance of enjoying the moment you are in. Of valuing doing something for the sake of itself. That sometimes, the end product doesn't really matter. Sometimes, just doing something because you want to is good enough.

So, if my garden doesn't produce a bumper crop, don't be sad for me. All the work of cutting roots out, of digging up stones and moving earth will still be worth it. I will lay a layer of compost, mix it in with a layer of manure, and seed and weed. I will water, debug, and put up fences to keep the rabbits and deer out. I will do all the things you are supposed to when you garden, but I think I will do them for the enjoyment I feel while doing them. If we are able to actually eat salad from the garden, so much the better. But that will not be my goal. My goal, I think, will be to enjoy working with my hands, to feel the sun on my neck, and to savor the exhaustion that comes from working hard.

My five things:

1.)I am glad that winter is finally over
2.) I am grateful that my body is capable of stooping, bending, digging, moving
3.) I am grateful to feel the warmth of the sun, even if it is only briefly
4.) I am grateful for this moment
5.)I am grateful for the ability to do, feel and say

On Sleep Apnea and Feeling LIke Darth Vader...

2009-03-24T16:40:00.004-04:00

I get to be fitted for a CPAP device, YAY! As if I didn't already feel unattractive enough. It seems that I have "obstructive sleep apnea." What this means in a nutshell is that when I am asleep, the muscles in my jaw and throat relax so much that my airway becomes blocked. Since blocking my airway keeps me from breathing, my sleep is interrupted. This happens several times a night. The result is a sleepy, cranky woman who is not functioning at full potential. What's even better is that I apparently am waking up in the middle of REM sleep. Know why that's even better? Because apparently, when you are in REM sleep, you are dreaming. Your body's way of ensuring that you don't kick or punch the daylights out of your partner while sleeping is to put your body in a state of paralysis. As you come out of REM sleep into some of the lighter phases of sleep, this paralysis is lifted. But if, like I do, you wake up smack in the middle of REM sleep, you can be fully conscious, yet unable to move or even open your eyes.

I have found myself in this condition on about six occassions. It is REALLY freaky let me tell you, and one of the most frightening experiences I have ever had. So, even though I had previously decided NOT to get the CPAP device, due to concerns with keeping my husband awake, it keeping me awake, the lack of sex appeal ("Oh honey, no offense but looking at that puts me SOOO NOT in the mood.")the lack of comfort it will probably provide, dried nasal passages, etc, I have been scared into being willing to try it. Suffocating while being fully conscious has a way of doing that for you.

I commented about it on facebook and my brother-in-law made a rather funny crack about getting a CPAP that made me sound like Darth Vader. After wiping the tears from my eyes from laughing, I got to thinking about it. Why not? Why shouldn't I have some fun with this? I think I WILL see if I can somehow get one that sounds like Darth Vader. Maybe I could even dress as Darth Vader before bed and play the Imperial March as I enter the bedroom. If I have to be stuck with this stupid crap, I may as well get a laugh.

But I will have to make some preparations. If one of my children gets up in the middle of the night and comes to my room, I don't want the little tykes to be frightened. That will not do. So perhaps we can address this like we are having a costumed slumber party. Maybe ALL of us will have to wear costumes to bed. That way, when they come down the stairs and approach my bed they will be prepared, somewhere deep down in their sleepy little psyches, for the image of their mother hooked up to the "Darth Vader-like" breathing apparatus.

If I could lose the stupid weight it is possible that I would stop having sleep apnea and this problem would go away. I am trying to gear myself up to go back to Weight Watchers and perhaps finally get serious about losing weight. Up to now I have been unable to be disciplined enough to lose the weight I need to lose - almost 100 lbs for your information - I know intellectually all the reasons I SHOULD care, all the reasons I NEED TO care, but really just don't ACTUALLY care enough to get it done. So the question I pose to you is this: if you are an undisciplined person, how do you develop discipline?

Here are my reasons I SHOULD care:

1.) Being overweight sets a really bad example for my children and the choices they need to make to be healthy individuals. I mean, you can blather on all you like about how important healthy choices are, but if you don't actually MAKE healthy choices, your children will eventually decide you are full of shit. I mean, if all that stuff is REALLY important, they will reason, then why aren't you doing it yourself?

2.) None of the really cool clothes fit me. Although we have come a long way, most fashion designers that I can afford still seem to think that purple mumus are what I really want to wear. The best thing I have found recently are some jeans that were on sale because Steve & Barry's went out of business. I got 5 pairs of jeans for $10. That's $2/pair. These jeans are from Sarah Jessica Parker's line, "Bitten." They are supposed to be high fashion for the middle class I guess. They fit ok except for one thing: they are low-cut...hip huggers I guess you would call them. That would be fine except that they come with a custom installed plumber's butt. Maybe on the sexy models that sold them that is cute, maybe even a tad sexy with the thong peeking out (do guys really like that sort of thing?), but on me it just looks gross. So I now wear a belt all the time, to prevent the whole butt cleavage thing that I think is oh so disgusting.

3.) I can't relate to anyone on television. I mean, when I want to see someone that looks like me that isn't on a Jerry Springer episode I have to tune in to programs like, "The Biggest Loser." Boy, that will really give the ole self esteem a boost. I've only seen part of a couple of episodes of this show, but please shoot me in the head if I ever tell you I am considering being a contestant. Don't get me wrong. Kudos to the contestants that are on the show for realizing that they needed to lose weight and that they needed help to do it. That is a huge step (pun definitely NOT intended). But the ratings whores that are the networks do everything possible to go to the extreme. They force the contestants to wear the most unflattering, bulge emphasizing, clingy materials possible when they select wardrobe. They show each person competing in their most obnoxious, indulgent persona possible before they actually begin the weight loss journey. They also force these poor souls on National television to cry, sweat, and stand on a scale to show the world just how big they have become. How horrifying must that be? I mean, when I go to Weight Watchers it is considered truly awful if one of the people weighing you in says your weight out loud so others can hear it. They get spoken to about that kind of insensitive behavior. But these people have to stand on a scale in front of America wearing the most horrible fat revealing clothing possible.

4.) I feel like a hypocrite when watching programs about the grossly obese. I am amazed, horrified and disgusted that a person could let themselves get that big. Aside from the outright lack of self-discipline and self-respect these people have, WHO THE HELL LIVES WITH THEM? I'm sorry, but if my husband was hitting the 400lb mark (or even a lot sooner truth be told) I would outright REFUSE to buy him any food but salads, carrot sticks, and chicken breasts. When you cannot get yourself off the floor and on the couch again, you need to deal with your problem. And I am heading in that direction. Someone help me stop. Hold me accountable for my health and self-respect before its too late.

5.) I'm too tired most of the time to do the things that I like to do. Believe it or not I love to hike, swim, take my dog for walks, canoe, walk and bike. But I am tired ALL the time. Hopefully the Darth Vader mask will help with that, but let's face it folks, I am tired because I am carting around an extra person all the time. I don't have the energy to accomplish what I want to because of the weight. It causes depression, I mean, who wouldn't be depressed having to carry an extra person with them at all times?

As for the reasons I NEED to care? Well, judge for yourself:

1.) I have a poor body image. I feel terrible about the way I look. I won't get into specifics here as I do not wish to publicly humiliate myself any more than necessary.

2.) My family history contains a recipe for disaster: my father has diabetes, high blood pressure. He has had 2 strokes, a quadruple bypass, and now has limited function of his left side and some impairment of his speech. He's not that old either...only his 60's. My brother was recently diagnosed with adult-onset diabetes. So it's there...waiting in the shadows to pounce upon me. Sure, right now I have low-normal blood pressure, good ratios of good cholesterol to bad cholesterol, no sign of diabetes...but that all could be changing if I don't do something. Soon.

3.) I have children who need me. Whether I want to be here or not, it doesn't matter. I created these beings called my children and they need their mother. I may not be perfect, in fact far from it, but my children need their mother. If I don't take care of myself it is entirely possible that I may not be here for them when they need me. I almost wasn't last summer. That should have shaken me up enough to do something. It should have, but it didn't. I often wonder what it will take.

So why don't I ACTUALLY care? Why can't I get myself to commit to taking off this weight, to working the program and changing my lifestyle? I know it isn't about dieting. I know deep down that I will never stick to a diet...that just isn't my m.o. I need to feel that I am not being deprived. The weight loss has to be a result of a choice. I know that I need to choose to be healthy, but I can't seem to make myself do it. Why is that?

Until I can answer this question, I guess I will just don my Darth Vader mask and meditate on how to use the force to my own purposes.

Thoughts on Standardized Testing...or No Child Left Behind...

2009-03-18T23:24:00.006-04:00

Well...here I am. Planning to write. I have a number of things on my mind and I'm not really sure which I will choose to write about...but here goes nothing. If nothing else I am hopefully sharpening those writing skills I keep blathering about.

First, I have to say that I have found myself shaking my head in amusement or disgust a number of times today. I'm not really sure which emotion is being evoked, but either will do I guess. First, I have to say that what my beloved husband shared with me today makes me want to laugh out loud long and hard. He has recently gone from being a pariah at work to being the hero of the day. The funny/disgusting part? He hasn't changed what he has done and continues to do at work one iota. The only difference? His boss' boss publicly complimented something that he did. His direct boss had previously reamed him for doing exactly what he was being praised for. But now that boss' boss is complimenting the work, Steve is to be high-fived. Steve is ALLLLLL RIGGGGHT. Until the next whim, right? Perhaps he is working for Dr. Jekyll...or Mr. Hyde.

The second thing I am disgusted/amused with is our public school system and this "No Child Left Behind" crap. The complete idiocy of the standardized testing that is in place. Where I am its called MCAS...and it has become the public school's religion, it's ridiculous. I have several reasons for feeling standardized testing is a load of crap, but here are a couple of my latest reasons. First, my daughter is in fourth grade. This is the first year that MCAS is "serious" and the grade counts. Not the first year that she has been forcefed MCAS til she was having nightmares about it, but the first year it "counts." Allison averages about two hours a night of homework, and that's not including the "Study Island" packet they sent home at the beginning of the year to "help" her study for MCAS. She has no learning disabilities, is quite intelligent, has a terrific vocabulary and reading ability and is very responsible. She stays on task quite well for a 9 year old, and does not need testing of any kind so far as I can see. Her last two quarters showed straight A's on her report card. She even got a letter from the school commending her for her academic performance. So why two hours of homework a night? Simple: because in order to cover all the material that needs to be covered to test for MCAS, she has to do two hours of homework a night.

How is she supposed to be able to be a kid with that kind of pressure? She gets on the bus in the morning around 8am, is in school until 2:30pm and doesn't get dropped off at her bus stop until after 3pm. Most days she comes home, has a snack, and does her homework until dinner unless its Tuesday. If it's Tuesday she has a friend over until dinner and does her homework after. Figuring in things like emptying the trash (her chore), showering, brushing her teeth and any extracurricular activities she may have, how is she supposed to have time to just be 9 and think about what 9 year olds like to think about? This Spring is going to be crazy. She has soccer, softball and karate to add into the mix.

I know what you are thinking...well, just eliminate some of her activities. But if I do that she doesn't get enough physical activity to stay physically fit. We can't have that. Plus the activities give her the opportunity to interact with kids her own age outside of school. She needs that. In school they don't have time to actually socialize...they aren't supposed to talk too much remember? They have to pay attention to the teacher so they can learn all their lessons for MCAS. They have abbreviated recesses so they can spend more time learning for MCAS.

I was at my sons' karate class the other day conversing with another mother who is a third grade school teacher in another town. She was telling me that her town, for budget reasons, is being forced to cut 20% from every town budget, including the schools. What this is going to translate into for her is that she could lose her job. She doesn't have tenure. Even if she doesn't lose her job, she was telling me that her principal said that she may have 40 children in her class next year. Can you imagine that? Forty children in a class? How does any learning take place in that kind of environment? Forty children ages seven and eight? At that point its really only crowd control. She was sharing how because of MCAS she has to gut her curriculum too. She can't do most of the enrichment aspects of her lessons because she has to ensure that she has time to teach everything that MCAS demands she teach. To forty students. Yeah. Right.

If that example doesn't scare you, think of this one. I was speaking to another mom tonight, while I was at a meal assembly place (think Dream Dinners). She was telling me that her 9 year old daughter broke her right arm playing basketball. Well, actually her thumb. In two places. She has had her arm in a cast for four weeks. The school keeps asking this mom when her daughter will be out of the cast. Mom has been saying, "I don't know, the doctor is making that decision, and he and I are talking next week." The school's response? "We need her score from MCAS, she can't miss the test." See, her daughter is one of the upper level students and they are afraid of blowing the curve for their school. So because they are concerned about what her missing test score would do to their funding, they are pressuring this little girl about getting out of the cast. I asked mom about whether the school is making special accommodations for her injury, since the cast is on her writing arm. "You have to jump through hoops," she tells me. First, you have to get an explicit note from the doctor outlining what accommodations are necessary. Then, the note must be faxed to "the state," whatever that means. Assuming you get approved for these accommodations, the school must hire someone to transcribe this little girl's responses. According to mom, the transcriptionist must write down exactly what this little girl says for her answer. If she clears her throat, "Ahem!" they transcribe that as part of the test. If she says, "Um..." they write that down. And by the way, they DO NOT write down commas, spaces, capitalizations, or any other grammatical piece unless this little girl specifically tells them to. Geez, no pressure on this little girl, eh? I'm not sure I could pass that test, nevermind a 9 year old.

What the hell is wrong with us? Why are we putting this kind of pressure on our children to perform? Why do our children need to lose their childhoods to prove that they are competitive, smart and talented? Instead of ensuring our children's futures, we are dooming them to becoming monkeys pushing buttons... We are forcing larger class sizes, less creativity from our teachers, and more conformity. Anyone who is different for any reason is being crushed under the wheels of standardized testing. Why can't we offer more room for creative thinking? Why can't we encourage learning through play, which according to Jean Piaget, is the best vehicle for educating the young?

Is there a place for testing of some sort? I think so. But it should be modified somehow. Perhaps the testing should be of the teachers and what they know. Maybe we should have teachers prepared to have a visit from some board or group to observe their teaching style on a regular basis (every three years?), review their lesson plans and comment on the interactions they see between students. Maybe they could look at a portfolio of work made up of various students' assignments and test the teachers. Perhaps this board could review teachers' gradebooks and assess what percentage of the students in the class are succeeding...maybe THAT could be used to evaluate a teacher's effectiveness in the classroom. This board could make the rounds and review various teachers and render decisions about their license to teach.

Maybe if we did that there would be less teachers in the system that play political football with our children's educational needs. Less children who get put off, as a couple of my friends are experiencing, because the school just doesn't want to deal with them. Fewer teachers who want to pass the buck because of a lack of funds, lack of interest or just plain lack of talent. Let those who are burnt out step aside. Those who aren't suited to the job of teaching young children need not apply. And those that pay lip service to wanting to educate our young will be revealed for the snake-oil salesmen that they are.

And lest you think I am making light of the job of being a teacher, allow me to tell you that no I do not. My father taught middle school Spanish for many years. He taught in a tough school system. Often he could not send home textbooks because he knew if he did they would never come back. Many of his students would be out until 3 or 4 in the morning, running with gangs or whatever. If he tried to have a parent/teacher conference it was laughable most times he told me. Of the few parents that DID actually come, most of them would look at him like he was crazy if he tried to suggest that anything going on at home had anything to do with the education of their child. It was, after all, his job to educate their children, not theirs. They had to work for a living, they couldn't do his job for him.

Teachers are often not given the tools they need to do the job they need and want to do. They have to learn to do much and accomplish much with very little. But they have to keep on keeping on. They need to take joy in the victories, no matter how small, and not become jaded and indifferent to the failures in the system. That is their charge. That is their responsibility. And I think we should take it very seriously if the pressure of that responsibility is being shifted onto our children, who are still learning how to learn. That is what I believe standardized testing is doing. And I am disgusted.

My five things:

1.) I am grateful that my daughter has no learning disabilities
2.) I am grateful for childhood
3.) I am grateful that public education isn't the only choice available
4.) I am grateful for a sense of humor
5.) I am grateful for my keyboard

Forgetting the Past

2009-03-16T21:13:00.005-04:00

"I am still not all I should be, but I am focusing all my energies on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us up to heaven" Phillipians 3:13-14

So it's been a couple of weeks. Not much going on, so that is the reason for the silence. I've just been thinking lately. As usual. About what? Hmmmm....let's see...forgiveness, religion, community, marriage, family, career...what it means to be an American...let's just heap it ALL on there. It's hard for me to limit what I'm writing about, so I apologize in advance for this post if it is either ridiculously lengthy, boring or disjointed. But I won't apologize for posting it. It's what I do. Read, don't read, criticize, don't criticize, like it, hate it, agree wholeheartedly or think I'm a fool, it's here. And I have to think there is some courage involved with just putting this out there for others to see. Or maybe it's just another weirdo form of exhibitionism. Who knows? All I know is that it seems to help me deal with what I am thinking and feeling, and hopefully I am becoming a somewhat better writer by the mere practice of writing. Either way, here it is.

The above quote from the bible has been on my mind a lot lately. Probably because I posted it on my refrigerator a couple of months back while I was despairing the kind of parent and person I am turning out to be. A good friend of mine sent it to me. She has taken the time to write me and let me know she cares on several occassions. She has shared herself with me...and not just the parts she likes. I think that she is a deeply caring person and I am a better person for having met her. When she sent the quote, she was encouraging me to be a tad easier on myself and not quite so critical. I accepted her concern and caring, and hung up the quote on my appliance, hoping to use it as a daily affirmation of the fact that God is not expecting perfection of me. Especially not right now.

Something interesting is happening. I don't know if this is God-inspired or not. Maybe it's just because I am relating to the quote from my own experience. Maybe it's both. As I reach inside to get the milk or juice or whatever, I am confronted with the same quote each day. Sometimes I don't think of it at all except to be reminded that I have a good friend out there who really does care. Some days it blends in with the pictures my son has added to the front of the refrigerator. And when I first read the quote I read it for it's beginning..."I am still not all I should be,..." then there was the middle stuff, and then I focused on: "I strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize for which God, through Christ Jesus is calling us up to heaven"

But now...now it's different. Today, as I was reaching for the milk for my coffee, my eyes focused on this part: "but I am focusing all my energies on this one thing: forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead..." Ladies and gentlemen, that is where I have been stuck. The past. Learning to let go of the past. I think that I have been unable to grasp what God has for me in the present and the future because I cannot let go of the past. It's the same mistake that many of my family members before me have made. And continue to make. Being bitter over past hurts. Losing opportunities for relationships. Fearing what the future holds because of what was unleashed in the past. My inability to let go of history. While it is true that if we do not learn from history we are doomed to repeat it, I think the same is equally true if we do not learn to let go of history. Let go of the past.

There are so many things that have happened over the years that have caused me great pain. Due to these things I have curled into a tiny emotional ball and stopped growing. This is a problem. A problem that I do not know how to solve yet. How do I learn to let go of decades of painful shit? See, I know in an intellectual way what I must do. I must forgive and move on so that I can fully live. But I have absolutely NO idea of what that looks like in action.

I have no desire to continually whine. I often choose not to say what is on my mind to friends and relatives because I don't want to sound whiney. I can't stand people who ALWAYS complain but refuse to actually DO anything about it. This is NOT by the way, the same, in my humble opinion, as seeking out a listening ear once in a while. It's okay to vent your troubles with someone you care about and whom you know cares about you, but over the course of months and years those troubles should be different troubles. You should not be venting about the same things in 20 years as you are right now. If so, my thought is that you are not learning and growing from what life has to offer.

This makes me think of another quote: "When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me." (I Corinthians 13:11) The time has come to stop whining. Great. Terrific. I'm on board. Does anyone have a magic wand to make that happen for me? I know...childish thinking again. I know what I'm supposed to do, just not how to make it happen. See, I have become painfully aware that I am a whiner. No one has pointed this out to me, so it isn't like I have been insulted into finally shutting up.

It's just that I am sooooooo sick of being upset about the same stupid things. Mostly things that I cannot change. Things that feel unfair to me. I have this big thing about being fair you see. I want so badly for life to be equitable, and life just isn't that way. I played by the rules of the game, so I should be counted one of the winners, right? So why are all these unfair things happening to me (boo hoo), and why are all the rule breakers of the world prospering? What's the damn point in having integrity when those who are succeeding don't?

For a perfect example of what I am talking about, check out this article: "Commentary: Cheney says U.S. can torture but can't heal" (link: http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/03/16/cheney.government/index.html#cnnSTCText )

This is an article posted today on CNN.com.

In it, it says "According to recently released legal memos from the Bush-Cheney administration, the former vice president believes that the federal government can ignore the First Amendment and suppress free speech and freedom of the press as part of its "war on terror."
An October 23, 2001, memo from Justice Department lawyers John C. Yoo and Robert J. Delahunty said, "First Amendment speech and press rights may also be subordinated to the overriding need to wage war successfully."
Former Vice PresidentCheney also believes, according to these same memos, that the federal government can send troops to burst into the homes of American citizens without a search warrant, despite the Fourth Amendment's protection against such unreasonable searches. He believes that the federal government has the right to arrest an American citizen on American soil and hold him in prison without charges. He believes that the federal government can listen in on your phone conversations without a court order."

Before I let you go on this, CNN also said, in this same article, that Cheney believes torture is perfectly acceptable...

"In fact, Yoo has said the federal government has the power to grab your young son and crush his private parts if the president thinks that will help the "war on terror."

Think I'm kidding? Here's the verbatim exchange from a debate between Yoo and Notre Dame professor Doug Cassel:

Cassel: If the president deems that he's got to torture somebody, including by crushing the testicles of the person's child, there is no law that can stop him?

Yoo: No treaty ...

Cassel: Also no law by Congress -- that is what you wrote in the August 2002 memo ...

Yoo: I think it depends on why the president thinks he needs to do that."

Contrast these comments, with others the article points out:

"Thanks to John King, we now know: Cheney believes that the government cannot help with health care, improve education or wean America off Middle East oil. I'm not kidding.

Cheney, whose authoritarian impulses run deep, is suddenly worried that the federal government might become too powerful under President Obama.

"I worry a lot," he told King, "that they're using the current set of economic difficulties to try to justify a massive expansion in the government, and much more authority for the government over the private sector. I don't think that's good. I don't think that's going to solve the problem."

Set aside the, umm, irony of a guy who is alive, thank God, because of government-provided health care opposing health care for taxpaying Americans. And set aside the hypocrisy of the Bush-Cheney Medicare prescription drug entitlement, the greatest expansion of the federal role in health care since President Lyndon B. Johnson.

Focus instead on Cheney's alarmist rhetoric: "a massive expansion in the government", "much more authority for the government." Cheney is comfortable with a government that has the authority to torture, imprison, censor and kill. Just not a government that has the capacity and compassion to write a health insurance policy or take on Big Oil."

If this doesn't scare you it should. Not only should it scare you to hear this in my opinion, it should embarrass you. To think that we elected this man to the second highest office in the country...oh wait...we didn't. Remember? We elected someone else...unless you trust what happened in Florida that election year.

Whether we elected him or not, people like him, people who were like-minded were running our government for eight years. Why? Because he has money? Because he had connections to the oil industry? Or because we voted along party lines and didn't think about what bill of goods our party was selling? Or perhaps it was because it was the "lesser of two evils." No wait. Maybe it was because we were apathetic. Our vote doesn't matter anyway. Hmmmm....gotta think about that one. So apathy allowed this man to disguise his derranged view as the majority opinion?

Who was it who said that all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing? Was it Batman? Liam Neeson? Eleanor Roosevelt? Teddy Roosevelt? Lincoln? Whoever said it was right. And that is exactly what many are doing. Nothing.

But I think I made my point. A man who took the oath to uphold the constitution is now suggesting that suspending civil rights that are the very fabric of that constitution is acceptable. This same man is also implying that compassion and humanity are "a massive expansion in the government."

So this joker has been successful? I shake my head at the absence of logic here. How is this fair? Or just? I worry about what a man with this kind of philosophy and the kind of power that he had may have done. And I can't be the only one who is worried. I am hardly the most politically savvy, well-informed, of age voter. I'm sure that there is already much more urbane discussion of this topic in many places around the world.

But nothing I say on my puny blog will change a thing (I don't think...one never knows). I'm just venting dear reader. I'd like to think that I have more integrity than our former Vice President. But I must confess I know little of Mr. Cheney. The little I do know about him scares me, but I cannot say I am a student of his life or even his policies.

And that is why the Cheney's of the world succeed I think. Those of us who know right from wrong become fearful. Life's complexities beat the stuffing out of us. We become frozen, a deer in the headlights, convinced that our opinions aren't informed enough, or defended well enough. We know evil when we see it even if we can't define it, but in the face of the majority, we clam up. Like a punch-drunk fighter, we dodge and parry the blows of a world that lacks nobility, but we lack the depth of understanding to know where to land the knock-out blow on our enemy.

At the risk of sounding like I am campaigning for our already in office President Obama, I am hopeful that Mr. President DOES know where to land the knock-out blow. He has studied his enemy and knows when to float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. He is optimistic enough to believe that caring DOES matter and that "yes we can" make the world a safer place without sacrificing our beliefs.

I am hopeful that I will not be proven wrong over the next four years. I am not naive enough to believe that Mr. Obama will solve all our problems. He has a tall order to fill during the course of his presidency. He is young. He may be inexperienced. We'll see. What I DO believe with all my heart is that he truly cares. He cares about your average "joe the plumber," (more than McRage truly does), he cares about smoothing the ruffled feathers his predescessors left in the wake of their "war on terror." He cares about bridge building, community and integrity. He cares about fostering a supportive environment where Americans are free to pursue their own brand of happiness.

God I sound ridiculous. Why didn't I just write his speeches for crying out loud? But you know what? I'd rather sound ridiculous and hopeful than cynical and dejected. And this is my blog anyway. I can write this if I want to.

And I want to. I want to sound hopeful. I want to feel hopeful. I want to believe that people matter. That you can be successful AND care about those around you. I want to. Really.

My five things:

1.) I am grateful that I live in a country where I am free to read what I want and to have an opinion about it...publicly

2.) I am grateful that our nation chose a new path of leadership

3.) I am grateful for the opportunity to put childish things behind me

4.) I am grateful that you are reading this

5.) I am grateful that God does not expect perfection of me

Reviving a Value System

2009-03-05T00:35:00.004-05:00

What matters to you? Let's get this question right out front. What is the most important thing to you? That's my first question tonight. My second is, if you have children, do you communicate what is most important to you to them? Do you think you communicate your values to others well? I don't mean do you lecture people ad nauseum about what they should be doing. I mean, do you live your value system? We can all talk the talk, but can we walk the walk?

You are probably sitting there wondering why I am asking that question. Well, I'll tell you. I've been reading a book called "Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls." I'm reading this book because in the not-to-distant future I will be raising an adolescent girl and I have never been comfortable with the adolescent thing. I didn't do it well myself, I had several jobs throughout college that reaffirmed that this stage of life was "not my area," and the inherent conflict that seems to come with raising teenagers scares me.

Another reason I am reading it is because I remember being in junior high school and high school. It was not fun for me. I remember it being painful, confusing and brutal. Girls can be very mean and ugly to each other at that age. Many (although not all) do things that are exclusionary, thoughtless and viscious. I worry about my daughter having to cope with that. I worry about my ability to help her navigate what is coming.

The images and ideas that young girls are assaulted with very often are disempowering, soul-draining and disheartening. They are told by magazines that their role in life is to look pretty, make a man feel good, enjoy shopping, and to never ever make waves by standing out. One must blend. Do not attract undue notice. If you do, you will be cut down.

Want an example? Okay, I'll give you one. I have to change the names and circumstances because I am talking about minors here and I don't want to identify them in such a way as to expose anyone to harm, so here goes. I know some young girls, about 10 or so. Through my contacts I have learned that "Melissa" almost broke her wrist. She was pushed down an escalator. Yes pushed. Intentionally. By "Sarah" who was approximately the same age. It wasn't an accident. It was an intentional shove, witnessed by a group of adults. Due to the incident, "Sarah" is no longer welcome in the location that she pushed "Melissa" in, and she was kicked out of "the Girls Group".

My first thought about that was how viscious that was. What could a 10-year old be feeling that would make her feel so angry and justified in her actions? Hasn't she been told from the time she was a toddler that hitting is not okay and that you should use your words? Now before you start getting all "don't be judgemental" on me here, I am NOT repeat, NOT blaming the parents. I don't know them. I heard this story second hand, and I have no idea what kind of parents "Sarah" has. They could be Mr. and Mrs. Wonderful for all I know. They could be Mr. and Mrs. Apathetic. Or they could be Mr. and Mrs. Hooray for Me and the Hell With the Other Guy." I don't know.

What I do know is that a group of girls went on an outing to a public place. They were all part of a group. One of the girls either did something, or was perceived of as having done something that one of the others did not like. The injured party (perceived or truly injured, we will never know) then reached out as they were walking to the escalator, and shoved, hard, on "Melissa." We are not talking about kindegarteners here. These girls are in fourth and fifth grade. They know that someone could get badly hurt doing something like that. So "Sarah" either didn't care that "Melissa" could get seriously injured, or that was her intention. Either way, the idea that "Melissa" could break her neck falling down the escalator was not a concern that she had. Only retribution for the perceived infraction of whatever social rule there was.

So to bring it back to my question, what values are we teaching "Sarah" as a community? We pay lip service to the idea that everyone has the right to be treated with respect, honesty and fairness. But do we REALLY act that way? What in Sarah's experience has taught her that her course of action was acceptable?

Let's think for a moment. Sarah is immersed in the world around her. Like it or not, ten-year-old Sarah is receiving input from all around her about how to make her way in the world. How is she to get along? How is she to get her needs met? The meek shall inherit the earth but the squeaky wheel gets the grease. There's no "I" in "Team," but there is a "me."

2009-03-03T17:15:00.005-05:00

Now I'm self conscious. I started this blog so I could get out how I felt without being self conscious, and at first, it worked. But now I'm feeling self-conscious. So I am going to work at being genuine here. I'm not sure I can write honestly right now, but I'm going to try.

See, I said some things. I started talking here about some feelings that I was having, some frustrations I was experiencing and I think I scared some of you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare anyone. I want so much to take back what I said so that you won't feel worried or uncomfortable. But I can't. I can't do it if I hope to get beyond these feelings I am experiencing. To stop, as someone I love dearly said, grumbling, and live my life fully.

This someone, who I will not name lest they feel embarrassed that I singled them out, means a lot to me. They wrote me an email telling me how worried they were about me. They want me to stop holding on to the things that cause me pain and to forgive as Christ has forgiven and to embrace the life that He has for me.

I find the sentiment touching, but the thought quite frustrating. This person, whom I love dearly and do respect, just doesn't see that I am trying to do just what she is insisting I do. The issue at hand is not whether or not to forgive but HOW to forgive.

As discussed in a previous (though brief) post, forgiveness is not forgetting. Forgiveness is not turning a blind eye to something either. Forgiveness requires you to know about the wrongdoing. Forgiveness requires an awareness of error. Forgiveness happens when in spite of this knowing you are able to leave your heart open to relationship again. I have not learned how to do that. I'm not sure how to acquire that skill.

When you see someone else capable of a desired skill, it can look effortless. When you watch figure skating, for instance, it is beautiful. The partners skate, arms outstretched, wearing colorful leotards, and spin, flip, figure eight and glide. It looks so easy. Have you ever tried to skate though? Have you ever been out on the ice, weak ankles wobbling, trying to get yourself to go OVER THERE!? I have. It isn't easy, effortless or graceful. At least it isn't the way I do it. I find it awkward, stressful and painful. I shake, go much slower than any professional skaters pair would, and am lucky if I remain erect more than 20% of the time.

I think learning other things, like how to forgive, is like that too. And so far, I haven't even managed to learn how to stand. I'm just watching the experts, trying to get a sense of what it is "supposed" to look like. So you'll have to forgive my wobbling and awkward attempts at grace.

Forgiveness

2009-03-03T00:19:00.003-05:00

"forgiving - allowing room for error or weakness"(Merriam Webster Online)

"For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. ¹⁵But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins." (Matthew 6:13-15, New International Version)

I think tonight is the first time I actually looked up the definition of forgiveness. Forgiveness is a big subject in my life right now. It seems like it should be something simple. Someone harms you in some way and you make a choice to forgive them. Pretty easy, right? RIGHT? Wrong!

Want to know why I don't think the concept of forgiveness is simple? Well, here it is. Too many people confuse other things with forgiveness. So I want to do what I can to clarify what we are talking about here before we discuss anything else. Forgiveness is NOT forgetting. Being willfully forgetful does not qualify in my estimation as forgiveness. Pretending to forget is not forgiveness either. If Joe borrows $500 from you knowing that you need that money to pay your rent, promising that he will surely pay you next Tuesday and he doesn't, choosing not to remember what a jerk he was for getting you evicted is not forgiveness. Neither is "letting things go." If Sally was your girl, and you made plans to marry and you found out that she was dating someone else the whole time you were planning your wedding, choosing not to fight about it and to focus on the future is not forgiving her either. Not if it means that you can't open your heart to her again. If your heart shuts down, even a little, you haven't forgiven her.

I am so tempted to write about this in an academic fashion. To compare the sacrifice Christ made for us despite the fact that we did not deserve his sacrifice with your relationship with Sally. But I stop short of doing that. Why? Because I am not fully convinced that humans are truly capable of forgiving. To forgive, or to "allow room for error or weakness," implies that you are above that error or weakness yourself. In my humble opinion, none of us are above the possibility of the same error or weakness we hold against our friend/lover/sibling/parent. Only Christ is capable. Not only is he capable, but he has a track record. He made the ultimate sacrifice even though he knew what we were/are. He knew/knows what we are capable of in our blackest moments. He knows this of individuals and he knows this of humanity as a race. Christ knew there would be Attila the Hun, Hitler, and Saddam Hussein. He knew that there would be you and me. But he still was willing to hang on that bloody tree for humanity.

So I get the whole "He died for our sins" idea. What I don't get is how I am supposed to forgive someone that I feel has wronged me? Not because what they did was so horrible...I mean, if you compare the hurts I have suffered against what people who have endured the Holocaust have for instance, my suffering is nothing. My trouble lies in the fact that in order to be able to "allow" for weakness or error you must first be sure it IS either weakness or error and second you must be able to open your heart up to being wronged again. Otherwise you are allowing for nothing. Choosing not to spend energy thinking about something is not the same as allowing for.

Let's chew on that for a while. I'm going to bed...hopefully to sleep, but maybe to think about how to forgive others in my life who I have felt wronged by. Hopefully I am forgiven for my wrongdoings.

My five things:

1.) I am grateful that Christ has made the sacrifice he did for the sake of forgiveness
2.) I am grateful that I have a brain and a heart to contemplate the meaning of forgiveness
3.) I am grateful that I can type
4.) I am grateful for friends and family who love me and want to help me embrace the idea of forgiveness
5.) I am grateful Monday is over

My bucket list:

1.) I want to learn how to truly forgive others
2.) I want to learn how to humbly accept forgiveness
3.) I want to feel less need to forgive
4.) I want to show my children more grace
5.) I want to go to a Jimmy Buffett concert

Fighting Dirty...

2009-02-28T03:47:00.008-05:00

Hello. I need to vent. I feel stuck. I don't want to whine, but I find that the only good way for me to think through something is to write, so here I am.

So what do I need to vent about? Me. The World. My kids. My husband. Things just aren't going well these days. I can't really figure out why. If you look at my life you'd see that it is a pretty good life. I have a good man for a husband. He is steady, he doesn't drink, he doesn't beat me and doesn't chase other women, he works hard, he is honest, and is a good father. My children are beautiful. They are smart. They are mostly good...save for the "I'm a kid so I need to test you" phase they are going through that should last roughly about 30 years or so. I have a nice home on a quiet street with good neighbors. I have a dog and a cat. No one is terrorizing me. I am living the American Dream by all accounts.

So why am I unhappy?

I started off thinking that I was angry with my husband. It appears that he lied to me when we married. He said that he knew that I was no June Cleaver when we decided to get engaged. He knew not to expect that I would find all my fulfillment in cleaning the house and preparing his dinner and having his children. I just am not equipped to be standing at the door when he arrives home with a drink and a shoulder massage at the ready. I cannot sit dociley by his side and listen to him fill me in on his day and pretend that I don't feel stress too.

While he is sharing the frustrations of his day, I am barely able to hear him. The phone is ringing. The dog is scratching at the door to go out and go potty. I am making macaroni and cheese. My children, angelic cherubs that they are, are tugging at my sleeves, calling to me to please pay attention to THEM, not Daddy. I am feeling tired, drained, like there is nothing left. I know I should be giving him my attention, but I just don't have any to give. I feel frazzled. I need to escape.

I feel stressed. I don't feel appreciated or understood.

What's worse? I know that he is stressed and misunderstood too. My husband has made a conscious decision to return to a sector of the working world that he found, shall we say, unpalatable the first time around. When he worked at this company before, he didn't particularly enjoy the glory-grabbing, ethically lazy, corporate climbing atmosphere that is in abundant supply there.

So why did he go back? Why return if he was being sucked dry by the energy and creativity vampires at work? His work is underappreciated. He is devalued. Those he works for seem to get what they can from him and give very little back. Sometimes they seem to even go out of their way to see to it that he doesn't feel valuable in any way.

So again you ask, why go back? Once you shake the dust off your feet, shouldn't you continue down the path of your life to more fruitful locales? Haven't we learned that throwing pearls before swine is a pointless exercise?

Unfortunately friends, the swine seem to have the upper hand. In this economy, the swine seem to be able to sling mud and filth and get away with it. The rest of us are just trying to get by. So when I answer your questions about why my husband has chosen to go back, what I will tell you is this: shelter and stability. He has responsibilities to his family. He takes those responsibilities seriously, and as noble as a work ethic, creativity and integrity are, they have to coexist with lack of appreciation, glory-grabbing, lazy ethics and Machiavellian corporate climbers who will throw anyone under the bus at the first opportunity if it means that they aren't going to wind up there themselves.

So when he comes home drained, I get it. I understand that he is mentally fried. He is looking to recharge so he can do the dance all over again tomorrow. I know that he has accepted that this is the sacrifice that he needs to make in order to see his children be cared for, protected and thrive. He knows that indignantly stomping out of his office after telling them what they can do with their job is not really an option he can afford. Not if he wants to provide the kind of stable life he believes his children need.

So what's the problem? To oversimplify it, here it is in the nutshell: the damn television. My white knight comes home on his trusty steed (minivan), removes his armor (polo shirt and dockers), dons his sweatpants and grabs a snack. He then plunks himself in front of the television and watches any one of a myriad of programs that he seems to like: the Celtics, Weekday Wings, Battle 360, Top Gear, or anything on the History Channel.

At first, I thought the main issue was that he seemed ignorant to the fact that I too would like to be able to sit as he does. I thought I was resentful of the fact that he seems oblivious to the need to set the table, make dinner, clear the table, get the children into pajamas or give them baths, help them with homework, read stories, or clear the table. I thought that I was aggravated because most nights when I come down from reading the bedtime stories the dishes are still waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher, the leftovers are still out and the table needs to be wiped down. And those things do irritate me, no doubt. But that's a cliche'. We poor women are not appreciated. We have to be all things to all people. Blah blah blah. We can't bring home the bacon AND fry it up in a pan, all while looking like the sexpots the media says we should look like. (By the way facebook, I don't CARE if Jennifer Anniston is my age but looks younger). Please spare me the phoney baloney.

But that isn't the main reason I am aggravated with him. The main reason I am aggravated with him is because he seems to prefer the television over me. He is developing a relationship with the television these days. He laughs while watching the television. He smiles, claps his hands and becomes deeply entranced in almost anything the television has to say. He used to act that way around me. I used to be able to make him feel good. Now I just make him feel used. The television has become his mistress.

He barely listens to me any more. Mostly, probably, because I represent more stress for him. I worry. There are bills to pay, appointments to go to, chores to handle. I try to communicate with him about what is going on in our family's lives, but I think he feels my stress and tunes out. How could he not? By the time he gets home most days I am out of juice. I just cannot be patient for one more minute. He barely has time to come in the door before he is assaulted with the stuff going on at home.

I am failing as his wife and I have to look that in the face every day and accept that I am failing. I just don't know how to cope with that. The really sad thing is that I know it's a character flaw of mine that is causing most of the troubles in our marriage. I feel it was a flaw handed down generations, and I have no idea how to fix things.

I can feel you there saying, "She's being too hard on herself." But really, I'm not. I can see the problem quite clearly. I'm nowhere near as good as I wish I was. I can logically understand what is wrong with me, but I don't seem able to change it. It isolates me. Makes me feel alone and afraid sometimes. I am surrounded by people who think I am a nice person. Who think I am good. But I know that inside, I really am not. I'm just too afraid to reveal who I really am. Afraid of the repercussions. I want to be wild and free, but I am afraid to be. So I conform. To please others. And I hate it.

I was driving home from work yesterday morning. I usually call my mom on those drives, mostly to keep awake. I love my mom, but we just don't see eye to eye on much. She's all into pop culture. Always has been, always will be. She gets her relationship advice from Oprah, Dr. Phil and Maury Povich. She hangs on their every word. She's a gossip-monger too. She has to let me know, "because she cares," that Cathy (my sister) is worried that I am upset with her. I haven't called her in a couple days. Now, I know that Cathy isn't worried. She and I understand if one or the other person doesn't get back to them it's because they have stuff going on. It's nothing personal. Besides, Cathy is busy enough with her life that she probably doesn't really think all that much about whether or not I am upset. She's in school, she works, she has a dog, she has a boyfriend, she has friends. I just don't occupy that much space in her mind. Again, nothing personal, but I don't really believe she is that worried about whether I call her back or not.
It's just that my mother makes up stuff. She doesn't feel that we kids are doing all the right things to show how close we are as a family. She tries to orchestrate opportunities to create closeness. She doesn't get that just because she doesn't see something it doesn't mean it isn't there. And if it isn't there, there is nothing that she can do to create it. I don't know how to not get upset when I listen to her talk, because most of what she says is pure, unadulterated bullshit.

She is a chameleon. I know that sounds judgemental, but she really is. I suppose we all are chameleons, but I feel it most when I talk to her. She talks to me as if her faith, her marriage and her family are the most important things to her. But when she talks to my brothers she is all about partying. She smokes pot, she drinks, she swears, and she is pretty free with the ethics and morals. She once told me that the man she most respected in her life was her grandfather and the best advice he ever gave her was, "Never use your own money. Always use someone else's." She followed that up by asking my husband and I if we wanted to go into business with her. I had to stifle a laugh. Hard.

I think she thinks that I don't know about her other lives, her other selves. My brother shares stories with me about her that would curl your hair. But we won't get into that. I digress.
I don't really want to spend time in my blog to bash my mom though. She is who she is because of the circumstances that surrounded her and because of the circumstances that continue to surround her. She is neither a saint, nor a demon. She just is. I mention her only because I want to share a little story with you to illustrate a point. My point? My point is that she is a narcissist, and so am I. She is on husband #4, she has no retirement income to speak of if you believe what she tells you, and she is so lonely for her family. But she doesn't get that you reap what you sow. She doesn't understand that you have to be there for those you love if you want them to love you back.

What do I mean? I mean, she says that all she wants is a close family. That is what is most important to her. But she threw out every one of us kids when we were teenagers. Every one. Because she needed space. She needed to move. She needed respect. She needed a fresh start. Pick a reason, any reason, but it was her need. That came first, always.

She doesn't want to be alone she says. But she won't be with anyone either. Her current husband is in West Virginia with his family, attending a memorial service for his aunt. Now I won't fool you into thinking that I am close with him. I'm not. He seems like a nice guy, but I don't really know him. But what my mother told me on the phone, while I was driving home from work, was that she was upset with him for leaving her alone. She felt that it was a really bad time for him to be going to be with his family. He shouldn't be leaving at this time since they are really short on cash. He should be working. He does, after all, my mom said, have a wife to support. He's off with family and she is all alone in this "big castle" of a house (some friends have loaned them their home while they are on a 50-day cruise). He's too attached to his family she thinks.

She doesn't get it. She doesn't get that if family really IS important, you go to the memorial. If your husband matters to you you go with him, even if you didn't really know the aunt. You go even if you think you can't afford it. Because money will always be tight, but family should be tighter. She knows that she can't figure out the relationship thing. She has said as much. But she won't listen to anyone who tries to help her. She is too invested in the idea that she is the only one who will look out for her, and she doesn't get that she is not always going to be the center of anyone's reality.

So I get frustrated with her. But I understand her too. I understand feeling drained and tired. I understand wanting to be taken care of. I want to be the center of someone's universe. I wake up every day feeling like I need to recharge somehow and I truly don't know how to get that recharge. I want to be a good wife. I want to be a good mother. I want to be able to be available to my husband and children. I do. But I am so depleted that I can barely function. I sometimes think about running away from it all. Not because I don't want to be with my husband and children, but because I know I am failing them in some very important ways and I just can't face it all the time. I think about divorce for the same reasons. I can't be what I know my husband and children need. I'm not improving with time, and I am not happier. All I am able to manage is to be.

When the highest aspiration you have is existence, you know that you are in a bad way. I'm not really sure why I feel so depleted, but I do. I wish I could find a church or a group of friends that I met with regularly that really reenergized me. The best I have managed so far is facebook. I can check in with other people's lives on facebook, I can see what is making others tick or not tick as the case may be, and I can check out of my own life for awhile. To put the narcissist away and not think about how unhappy I am. I look at flair and laugh, I play scrabble, and I quiet down the inner critic that is telling me that I should be spreading rose petals on the bed, baking cookies and hosting the block party of the century.

Meanwhile, my husband quietly waits for me to notice his depleted state. Help.

My five things:

1.) I am grateful that in this economy my husband and I have enough to care for our children
2.) I am grateful that I get a new chance each day to do it right
3.) I am grateful for facebook (really)
4.) I am grateful for my ability to learn from others
5.) I am grateful that my shift at work is 1/2 over

My bucket list:

1.) I want to be sure my sister knows I love her
2.) I want to show my family that I love them every day
3.) I want to become more ecologically responsible
4.) I want to stop being afraid to be real
5.) I want to help my husband feel recharged

Raiders of the Lost Career

2009-02-15T00:48:00.008-05:00

I'm forty. Forty years have passed. Forty years during which I have had the opportunity to be amazing. Forty years during which I could have obtained my Ph.D. Forty years during which I could have become the "Great American Writer" or a teacher, or volunteered to help hurricane and flood victims. Forty years during which I could have developed some talent, ANY talent. But I haven't. Approximately 1/2 of my life is over if you believe statistics, and I am still no closer to knowing what I am.

Maybe the philosophy from which I have worked thus far is all wrong. See, I have always thought that a person IS something. A person is either a philanthropist, a salesman, a fighter, or such. I thought you spent your youth unearthing, like an archaelogist, what this person is. You carefully dusted off the debris, removing what is NOT you, until, like the Parthenon, the Sphinx, or the Colisseum, the structure of who you are stood bare for others to see. Your older years were spent using what you have unearthed to benefit mankind if you were a good person, or to benefit yourself at others' expense if you were not quite so good.

I've been carefully unearthing...and removing debris...only to find...more earth, and more debris. I keep dusting off, moving rock, shovelling off the dirt, finding intricate patterns of cracks that I have thought will define who I am. No matter how careful I am though, so far, all I have unearthed leads to more cracks and less definition. Maybe in the end I will hit the bottom and it will all just be so much dry and useless dirt.

Then I find myself thinking of that fictional, though famous archaeologist, Indiana Jones. This may be stretching it for some, but I always think of Indy. If you watched the series, The Young Indiana Jones, you learned that he was fascinated with archaelogy as a boy. So he always knew what he was.

But now I'm thinking of Indy as Harrison Ford. Often Harrison would be teaching an archaeology class at the university, minding his own business, just a professor trying to make a living, when he would be accosted by the Nazis, or someone connected to his past, and he would be off on this exciting adventure. Indy didn't seek adventure, IT sought him. He frequently found himself thrust into the thick of things, having to live by his wits and use the resources available to him at the moment.

He doesn't think about his 401k. He doesn't worry that his job will be unavailable when he returns. The state of the economy doesn't worry him. So long as he has his trusty hat and bullwhip, Indy is as right as rain. He can face ancient Incan tribes, he can decipher the secrets of the dead when others who have tried for centuries have not, he can cope with interdimensional beings, and even manage to handle, ugh, snakes, even though he professes a hatred for them. He doesn't doubt his significance in his world. Anything can be handled with an ancient scroll, a bullwhip or gun, his hat cocked to a rakish angle and that charming smile.

I'd love to handle life that way, but I have to take the dog out to his potty spot and get my daughter ready for school. (da, da da da da da) The bill collectors will be threatening our (gasp!) credit score yet again today and my son wants to know why he cannot go out in the snow in bare feet. I have to stop by Home Depot (da da da daaaaah, dant da da) and get a no-kill squirrel trap for our furry friend in our basement. I have to run to the store for toilet paper(Dant da da daaaaah, dant da daaah daaah da da) and scrub the smutz out of the glassware that for some unknown reason my dishwasher will not clean. (Dant da daah dah, da daahh dah dant dah da da da)

I have a nice life. I don't fool myself into thinking otherwise. I have a loving husband who is honest, works hard and retains his integrity when many around him do not, I have lovely children who are creative, funny and smart, and my basic needs are met. I have a nice home, friendly neighbors, and furry, lovable pets. I have enough freedom that I can be with my children and not hear second-hand about others raising them. I have some friends.

So why am I dissatisfied? Why do I feel this whistling, empty space inside? Why do I feel always like there is a space that no one can touch, one that is lonely, unhappy and unreachable? I know all the reasons to feel positive. I have a list that I keep, a running list in fact, of reasons that I should (and do) feel grateful. That is partly in truth, to try to keep me focused on the good things in life.

Unfortunately I seem to have a knack for seeing the worst. Food never tastes as good as I had hoped it would. Jokes aren't the really funny kind that make you squirt milk out your nose. I don't remember the last time I laughed that hard...if I have EVER laughed that hard. Everything just falls short. Why is that? Is there something in me that is just incapable of experiencing anything fully? The last truly poignant emotion I remember having was the birth of my firstborn son, Thomas. I felt unfettered joy when he was born. I felt like I couldn't love something more, my relationship with my husband couldn't be in a better place, and I could handle anything that came my way. Then SLAM! The guillotine sliced my heart in two. It hasn't been the same before or since. I'm not sure I can put my heart out there again.

I don't want to be cynical, but it's so hard to see the ass-hats rule and not get cynical. For those of you who do not know what an ass-hat is, an ass-hat is someone you must work for who is less than qualified, is willing to take the credit for your work, and will throw you under the proverbial bus at the first opportunity. They have little or no integrity, often have direct control over your financial security and have exactly zero interest in helping you get ahead. Often they have a vested interest in insuring that you DO NOT get ahead, lest they be forced to find someone else who can somewhat competently fill your position. (See the Dilbert comic strip if you don't know what I mean.)

Oddly enough, I do not currently work for an ass-hat. My supervisor is actually a decent person. She is straightforward, direct and compassionate. She will roll up her sleeves and do the hard work necessary to get the job done. She doesn't seem to play games, and will let you know if you are doing things that are wrong. But....

But what you say? But...my paycheck isn't what secures financial stability for us. It never has been. Since I have never been able to settle on what exactly I am, my career is rather checkered. For reasons I won't belabor here, our family has not been able to rely on my income. That is a discussion for another time, that I will perhaps share with you some day. Most likely.

For now, suffice it to say that my young family could not survive on my income. My husband is the breadwinner. He is the more stable person between the two of us. He is dependable, he is hard-working. He is smart. He understands the nuances of his job, gets along well with others, and knows how to accomplish his goals when he is given a task. He definitely will put his nose to the grindstone and keep it there until the job is done and done right. He was at work a couple of weeks ago in spite of the fact that he was throwing up and had diarrhea.

But he works for an ass-hat. I won't tell you where he works in case someone from there reads this, but his manager is an ass-hat. Steve hasn't said that. He wouldn't. He's a nice guy. He also knows not to say anything that you wouldn't want to say directly to a person's face. So he hasn't said this person is an ass-hat. Not even to me. I am saying it though.

Now why am I saying this? You ask. Let me tell you. At the beginning of the month Steve was supposed to go away on business. He was going to be away for a week. He wasn't thrilled, but he was planning to go as it was part of his job. I talked about joining him out there if I could get someone to watch the kids, but the prices for flights were more than we could afford at this time. Well, he has been struggling with a health problem that he thought was minor at first, but it began to become a bit more troublesome. I won't go in to detail in the interest of preserving his privacy. But the long and short of it was that his doctor advised him not to go away. She provided him with a note explaining that she was recommending that he not take his business trip.

Since his doctor was recommending this course of action, Steve decided to follow her advice and brought his note to his manager. She promptly told him that she did not want any further details and that he was to direct any futher communication pertaining to his health to human resources. Not one time did she ask if he was going to be okay. She showed no concern for his well-being. Only upset at having her "business decisions" "interfered with."

This, though disappointing, would not really be such an issue, if that was all there were to this ass-hat's actions. Steve had turned his medical note into his manager on a Monday. TWICE that day she decided to have him into her office and let him know that she was unhappy with his performance. She claims that her boss was unhappy as well, and that his work had been sub-par as of late. This came as a complete shock to my husband since the previous Friday he had had his review and was told that his work was top-notch and that they were very happy with the quality and quantity of what he was doing.

In addition to this, and prior to this, my husband found out "accidentally" that the databases that he had been using to produce the reports that his manager asked for on a regular basis were no longer available to him. He has been told he is a "security risk" for some unknown reason. He has been chewed out at least twice for failing to produce the reports his manager requires. He cannot produce these reports until he has the data that he can no longer access because he is considered a "security risk."

And that is why his manager is an ass hat. Just to summarize: 1.) said ass hat claims he is a security risk. She has never discussed this as an issue with him directly. Never warned him that he would be losing access to the databases he needs to do his job well. He found out by accident that he was not going to have database access. 2.) ass-hat showed no concern for him as a human being, only expressed being inconvenienced by his health problems and the potential impact they may have on "business decisions" whatever that means, 3.) ass-hat apparently cannot decide if he is doing a terrific job or a terrible one...apparently too many words starting with "t" on the review forms.

The worst part? I can do nothing. This ass-hat has my family's future in her bumbling hands and I cannot speak up to protect my family. I cannot demand that she answer for her actions. I will not get an accounting of her actions. She is not accountable to me. Like so many of the villains Indiana Jones faces during his adventures, this ass-hat does not feel any responsibility for the lives she is affecting.

Where's a bullwhip when you need one? How can I perform the daring rescue without one? I cannot swing gracefully through the corporate jungle without it. I do not have my trusty hat. It seems I have brought a knife to a gun fight. The monkeys in the company trees will follow me and chatter their monkey-language, but none will demand a reckoning. They're happy to be thrown a random piece of fruit from the vine, even if it's a rare piece. More than likely they would be just as happy to watch me fall and be consumed.

My five things:
1.) I am grateful that we have enough of what we need
2.) I am grateful that my husband is honest and has integrity, even when others don't.
3.) I am grateful that my boss is NOT an ass hat
4.) I am grateful that I do not have to deal with my husband's boss who IS an ass hat
5.) I am grateful that I am not a corporate monkey

My bucket list:

1.) I want to find a way to reach the corporate sector and change the climate/culture of monkeys pushing buttons (more on that another time)
2.) I want to help an ass-hat realize that they are and help them to change
3.) I want to change anything about myself that would be ass-hattish
4.) I want my children to refuse to become ass hats
5.) I want to enjoy life in spite of the ass hats.

Flight of the Butterfly

2009-02-05T00:26:00.003-05:00

Hey everyone. I'm having a relatively up day. I managed to clean both bathrooms, mop my kitchen floor and do some laundry. That was in addition to the four hour telecommuting shift I did and the drive to work for a quarterly update from the CEO/President of our hospital. Oh yeah...and I managed to run the dishwasher AND get a shower.

But I'm not here to talk about that. I'm here to talk about the magic of being a three year old boy. I'm here to talk about butterflies, karate and cuddling. These are all things that my three year old, Daniel is very invested in. The karate class is new. He already is taking Music Together - a music movement class. I'm still not 100% positive that he likes it, but we're trying it. But I'm fairly certain he will like karate. He has been very interested ever since his big brother has been doing it and the teacher, Julie, is great. Originally she said he had to be four before he could sign up, but last week she told me that he could sign up even though he is only three and a half. She has been letting him come into the class to do the obstacle course at the end of Christopher's class and she says that he is physically ready. I'm not sure he's emotionally ready for what is involved (focus, following directions, meditating), but we will see. He is so excited about trying it and I am hoping it will help him direct some of his energy. He is a very physical little guy. He was so thrilled when Julie gave him his first ghi. When we got home he put it right away when asked. It's in his shirt drawer, waiting to be removed from the package.

And cuddly! Is this boy ever! He loves to cuddle with me these days. I am eating that up with a spoon. He wakes up in the morning and the first thing he wants to do is cuddle. I am usually (lately) laying on the couch after having said goodbye to my daughter for the day when he wakes up. He comes over to me and climbs right on top and squiggles his way under the blanket with me and we watch SpongeBob. I will miss this when he is older and doesn't want to cuddle with me. Christopher doesn't want his friends to see him kissing or hugging me so we sneak it in right before the bus comes...sigh. He's five. I respect his wishes, but it does hurt. To see that so soon I am pushed to the background. It's where I belong as he ventures out into the world, but for now I much prefer the unconscious cuddliness of a three year old.

The cuddliness is good. Daniel is so open and affectionate with me. I hope that what is coming doesn't inhibit it. What is coming you ask? Well...I'll tell you. Death. Death is coming. Not my death or even his. But the death of his butterflies. That is looming on the horizon and I am hoping to help him navigate this one without too much difficulty. See, for Christmas, we ordered a butterfly habitat for him. He was so thrilled to get it. I figured, since we are unable to afford to keep him in his preschool, we would do some projects at home to make up for it. So we signed up for a music class and we got the butterfly habitat. I was thinking we could wait until the end of the winter and get the caterpillars, and then release them into our garden in the spring. It would be a nice way to segue into the garden project. We could talk about how many living things help our garden. We could talk about how butterflies help to pollinate flowers. It was going to be so great. The package said it took 6-8 weeks to receive the caterpillars once they were ordered, so, in January I ordered them, figuring that we wouldn't receive them until the end of February beginning of March.

Well...we received them three days after I ordered them. Five caterpillars which Daniel named...Turner, Grace, John, Fred and Scotty. They came in their cup with a lid and the food was already in the cup. We watched only four of the caterpillars grow as one died for some unknown reason. We watched the cup fill with "frass," (the scientific word for caterpillar poop) and took pictures of the caterpillars. We took notes and made comments on how they were growing and Daniel said, "They are my pets," when he saw the cocoons. He was captivated by those brown, dried-looking things.

When Steve arrived home from work three nights ago, he went into the dining room for something and noticed that three of the caterpillars had emerged from their cocoons. Daniel was enchanted. He watched them flutter their wings, trying to pump them up for flight. He said, "Mommy, aren't they beautiful? They are my pets and I will never let them go anywhere without me." He watched and helped as we slipped sliced oranges into their habitat (cage). We talked about how butteflies taste with their feet and he laughed (they really do). He was enrapt. He was smiling and happy as he ate his dinner. He asks every meal if we can look at them. He talks about how we can't let them loose in the house or Joey (our cat) or Brady (our dog) might eat them. And he likes the fact that they are HIS butterflies. It's a source of pride.

Then Christopher lowered the boom. "Mom, when are we going to release them?" Do we have to have that discussion now? Can't we just let Daniel enjoy what he has? See, we can't release them. It's only February 5th and it's been averaging about 20 degrees farenheight outside. I had planned for them to be butterflies in March or April. But they are butterflies in February.

I don't know if you know this, but butterflies only live for about two weeks. So they will have to live out their existence in captivity, never really having the chance to fly as nature intended. I'm actually kind of sad about this, but that is the way it is. So...in a few more days I will be consoling my son, I am sure, over the death of his butterflies. He will be learning firsthand about death. This was not a lesson I had intended on teaching him...but he will find out that things are born, things grow and things die. All living things eventually die. I have read how caring for animals helps children to process the idea of death so that when loved ones, human loved ones, die, they are able to cope.

But Daniel is three. I wasn't really intending to force him to face this reality so soon. But face it he will. I will not hide them from him. I will not lie and tell him that they flew away. Tempting as this may be. I will probably give him a chance to say goodbye to his butterflies, to understand that their bodies will stop working and that they will return to the earth. Maybe he will want to bury them. I don't know.

Whatever he chooses, I hope that he will understand that it was still good to love them. To appreciate the beauty of these creatures even though to love them means to suffer loss as well. I hope that he will leave his heart open to loving another creature so unreservedly. So unabashedly. So totally unselfconsciously.

As I sit here thinking about it, perhaps these butterflies will get to fly freely. It may not be the flight that they were designed for, or even the flights that they might wish for, but these butterflies will fly freer and higher in Daniel's heart than anyone could ever imagine. What could be higher and freer than a three-year-old's imagination?

Before I sign off, here are my five things:
1.) I am grateful that three year olds like to cuddle...especially MY three year old
2.) I am grateful that our butterflies are still living
3.) I am grateful for every smile my children share with me
4.) I am grateful for my job
5.) I am grateful for the cuddle time with my five year old...even if it's got to be snuck in before the bus arrives.

And my bucket list for tonight:

1.) Before I die I hope my children learn how to keep their hearts open in spite of loss
2.) Before I die I hope to teach them love is worth it even if it hurts sometimes
3.) Before I die I hope to teach my children they are worth any pain I may endure
4.) Before I die I hope to express to my husband exactly how much he means to me
5.) Before I die I hope someone I know regrets closing their heart off to love

I'm Baaaackkkk!

2009-02-02T01:55:00.003-05:00

Here I am again. It's 2am. I should be sleeping but I can't. I worked this past weekend and when I work (overnight shift) it usually screws me up with my sleep patterns. I won't be back to normal for a few days. So here I am. If you're here at the same hour as me, I'm sorry. I hope you aren't being beat by insomnia, or pains, or worries. Maybe my posting can serve as a sedative...heheh.

So...what's on my mind tonight? Something I heard this morning as I was getting ready to leave work. There was this radio program on overhead at the hospital (they pipe in music all night and the radio station switches to talk show format in the morning on Sundays) where they were talking to some medical experts of some kind. I don't remember precisely what their specialties were, but they were studying something or other at Harvard Medical School.

They had "discovered" a new psychological disorder and were sharing this with the world - at least the world that was listening to that station at 6:30am on a Sunday. This new disorder that they had "discovered" was called IED...which stands for "Impulsive explosive disorder" or something like that. The characteristics of this new disorder included that the person "flew off the handle" frequently and had "incidences of temper."

When did losing your temper become a disorder? I find this incredible. When I was growing up it was simply called "being angry." My husband tells me about how as a kid if his mom was angry you stayed out of her way. Would that be considered a "treatment?" So as a child my husband instinctually knew how to treat his mother's "disorder?"

I think that the true disorder is that we think of being angry as a disorder. Something that needs to be treated. Everyone tries so hard to be politically correct. They want to turn the other cheek, to be kind and patient and understanding. In polite society we don't get angry. We get passive-aggressive. We "forget" things. We develop other disorders to avoid admitting we are angry.

I am currently reading a book called "Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls." The author is a clinical psychologist who has treated hundreds of adolescent girls and their families for various problems. In her book she talks about how 8 million girls in the United States suffer from anorexia. That's one of every five girls. Anorexia is a disorder that is a metaphor for what young girls and women cope with when they face a western culture that has very unhealthy views of what a woman should be. Anorexia is "...a young woman's statement that she will become what the culture asks of its women, which is that they be thin and nonthreatening."(p.175, "Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls)

Both men and women avoid admitting to many anger issues by turning to alcohol, drugs, extremeisms, and suicide. A professor I had in college spoke of depression as anger turned inward. Why must we turn anger anywhere other than where it should be directed? Why is it so unsafe to express anger?

I was planning to explore this topic in my writing, and will at another time, but my son just appeared and needs my attention. Lest I leave him with any issues that would cause him to develop IED, I am going to sign off and tend to his needs. I will write more on this later.

Here are my five things:

1.) I am grateful for my sister-in-law who wrote me a beautiful note on facebook the other day. It lifted my spirits.
2.) I am grateful for my son's love
3.) I am grateful for good books that make you think
4.) I am grateful that I am working out my own anger issues
5.) I am grateful that we are half way through the winter

My bucket list:

1.) Before I die I want to "talk someone down from the ledge."
2.) Before I die I want to stop feeling angry all the time
3.) Before I die I want to experience unfettered and unpunished joy
4.) Before I die I want to cause someone else to feel unfettered and unpunished joy
5.) Before I die I want to give someone refuge

Boo hoo...

2009-02-01T00:50:00.005-05:00

So here I am again. Feeling low. I don't know if I feel depressed when I am tired, or sick or if I feel tired and sick when I am depressed. But right now, I feel like I could be okay with not being here. I am not doing anything that well anyway. I suck as a mother. I suck as a friend. I suck as an employee. I just suck.

And I hate listening to myself when I feel this way. I was looking at friends' blogs, postings on facebook and other sources I usually look to in order to feel inspired. What I felt today was dumb. And plain. And ignorant. And uneducated. I don't have anything useful to add to the worldwide conversation.

A friend of mine has this amazing post about the post-Obama world. She talks about being leery of "drinking the kool aid." She has all this information about what she is looking for in a political leader and all this information about how she is not putting all her eggs into one proverbial basket. I haven't written anything particularly insightful like that. I'm just a schlub.

And I have come to the realization that probably, that is all I ever will be. I used to have all these amazing ideas and plans. I used to think I would make a unique mark on the world and that I would do something wonderful to help others. But I'm going to be forty in nine days and I am not even close to doing anything remotely wonderful.

I wish now that I had no aspirations of being anything other than a schlub. I wish I didn't know that there was more than being a schlub. Then I wouldn't be dissatisfied. But I am. I feel like I failed myself and whatever potential I may have had at one time. I just don't have the stuff to make a mark. I'm just another schlub that will fade into anonymity eventually. How long it takes to fade is all we are waiting for now. Another year? Five? Ten? Twenty? Ugh.

The only reason I haven't taken steps to shorten the fade into oblivion is because I have children. I would never do that to them. They need to know that they are special, beautiful, exciting and interesting people who have something to offer. How would they ever believe that if their own mother abandoned them? I couldn't do that to them. So...I continue to schlep on...day after day...knowing that I will never really have it together. They may wind up hating me for my shortcomings. But they will have me to hate. Maybe that is all I am here for. To be eventually hated.

Will I be strong enough to be a target as my children get older and more sophisticated in their ability to make me their target? I'm not (as I'm sure you've guessed) a very secure person. That wouldn't matter in the big scheme of things but I worry that I won't be a good parent because of my insecurity. I really want to be the parent my children need. I don't know if I am up to the task though. I want them to grow up strong and confident. I want them to have a good self-esteem. I want them to know that they are good people. They won't become those self-assured, good people if their mother doesn't provide them with the security that they need. And I can't provide that security if I don't have it to provide, can I?

So am I going to just live to see how much of a failure as a parent I am? I'll see my children go through whatever pain they are to experience because of my shortcomings, and then fade into anonymity?

Boy, I'm in a positive frame of mind tonight, eh? I bet you are just soooo glad that you read this. Just be glad that I didn't go on longer. I whine, but I know when to shut up. I hope. I would write more, but I fear it would interfere with others' privacy. So I will just keep things to myself.

Here are my five things to be grateful for:
1.) I am grateful that no one reads this really... they would see what a whiney baby I am
2.) I am grateful that my kids have a good dad - he'll make up for my shortcomings
3.) I am grateful that I can still see that I have responsibilities...that I won't bail on.
4.) I am grateful that there are breaks in the clouds...sometimes I see more than rain.
5.) I am grateful that there is hope

My bucket list:
1.) I want to let my younger brother know how important he is to me
2.) I want to go to New Zealand
3.) I want to know what God wants of me
4.) I want to take a cooking class
5.) I want my mother-in law and father-in-law to know how much I love them

Discipline and motivation...

2009-01-31T04:43:00.004-05:00

It's been a few days. I'm at work. It's fifteen minutes before five am. Things may start to pick up before too long, so I may not be able to write like I would like, but I am going to try to write some.

I have no motivation these days. I go through this so often I sometimes wonder if I am just not calling it what it is - maybe I am just a lazy s.o.b. I have so many projects that I need to do that just aren't getting done. All I seem to want to do is sleep. I am so undisciplined. How does one who is not disciplined develop this trait? It seems that this is something that cannot be self-taught. If it could, you wouldn't have an issue in the first place, right? So, what do I do?

I'm having trouble writing too. Usually, when I write, the words just fly from my fingers. Tonight (this morning?) though, writing is a painful process of thinking about what I want to write about. The words just don't want to come. So I am writing about the fact that I have nothing to write about. Part of me thinks I should just stop writing if I have nothing to write about, but another part of me is thinking about what I just said about discipline - I am trying to write regularly and be disciplined about it. That hasn't gone perfectly either, but at least I am trying. Maybe if I keep pushing I will accomplish something productive.

I've got to talk about something else kind of embarrassing here too. My weight. Now before you start telling me not to get all caught up in the dieting crazes out there, if you knew me, you'd laugh at that thought. I am sooooo not a follower of the latest trends, dieting or otherwise. But if I want to have a healthy life (I do) I have about 100 pounds to lose. This is not about fitting into a size four either. I have no idea what size losing 100 pounds would make me. I don't really care either. What I care about is the fact that my father is only in his mid sixties and he has already had quadruple bypass surgery, has had two strokes, has diabetes, high blood pressure and as a result of these things he cannot move around as much as he would like.

My problem? I just can't get myself to give up the crappy way I eat. I talk to my kids all the time about how important it is to eat nutritious food in healthy portions. We are not members of the "clean plate club," and we try to offer lots of different vegetables and fruits to eat throughout the day. We talk about water being important, we don't drink soda or sugary drinks and we don't offer junk food for snacks very often. I pack healthy lunches for them to bring to school in spite of their protests, and yes, they DO eat them.

My downfall? Drive-thru and delivery. Sometimes I just don't want to hear complaints so ordering pizza is easier. It comes hot, it IS nutritious (although fatty), and I don't have to do much. Sometimes it's just so much easier to get McDonald's for dinner. Sometimes Daniel is asleep in the car when I pick up Christopher and Allison from the bus...gosh he's heavy to carry...it's just easier to drive through Dunkin Donuts to get a snack in the afternoon. I know. Lazy. Terrible. I hate fighting with them in the grocery store too. "Mommy, can I have ONE piece of candy? Puhleeze?" This keeps me from bringing the troops with me to do the food shopping.

This is not casting me in the best light as a mother or wife. I would love to be the mother and wife who has this huge bounteous table offering the most nutritious and delicious fare possible. I have dreams of being a sometimes vegetarian. I want my children to grow up healthy, strong, and NOT FAT like their mother. But I don't know if I can pull it off. I would also love to be the wife who provides her man with a pleasant meal at the end of a hard day's work. Good food, good conversation, laughter, a listening ear and comraderie. But in all honesty, I am falling severely short with this these days. What does this say about me as a wife and mother?

So what do I do? How do I address this? How do I make myself WANT to make the changes that I need to make in order to create a healthy environment for my family? How do I change our habits so that we are getting the right foods, in the right portions, and not being crabby about it?

And exercise? Where am I going to manage to squeeze in all the time that I am supposed to have to get the children to be out and moving for at least an hour a day? And how do I manage that and manage to impress upon them how important it is to do homework? They need to move and not sit in front of the television or computer for hours at a time, but they also need to get their homework done. My daughter gets too tired to do her homework unless I push her to do it right after school. She gets off the bus, has a snack and then starts on her homework. If it waits until after dinner she is up way too late and not only fights with me about getting it done, but doesn't get enough sleep.

My son Christopher is in kindegarten and they don't really get homework. But I should be working harder with him on learning to read. It has kind of slipped through the cracks lately. I can't let it. He needs to learn to read. I need to be involved. I've been so terrible about it. I need to work out a schedule for all this stuff so I can fit it all in. Someone help me. If you're out there and have suggestions, please, let me in on them.

I have more to say, but it's picking up here at work, so I have to sign off. I'll come back to whine later, I promise. For now though, here's my five things:

1.) I'm grateful that children are forgiving
2.) I'm grateful that my family is relatively healthy
3.) I'm grateful that we are a good portion of the way through winter
4.) I'm grateful that my brother helped me redo my bathroom.
5.) I'm grateful that I am not homeless or unemployed.

My bucket list:
1.) I want to write my children letters letting them know how wonderful I think they really are
2.) I want to find a way to let my husband know how much I love and appreciate him
3.) I want to do something that matters to someone
4.) I want to support an important cause in a significant way
5.) I want to have dinner with all of my good friends

My five things...

2009-01-18T03:07:00.003-05:00

The five things that I am grateful for today are:

1.) Husbands who care enough to warm up your car before you have to leave for work
2.) That I live in a country that is made up of such diversity
3.) That we have elected our first black president
4.) I have a friend or two who will listen to me cry when I am feeling at my worst
5.) I have a job

My bucket list for tonight:

1.) I want all of my children to know that I think they are special people, deserving of love and attention
2.) I want to travel more with my husband
3.) I want to visit my sisters
4.) I want to learn how to be more carefree
5.) I want my in-laws to know I think they are truly unique, loving individuals that I feel lucky to know

Unfunky wishing for Uncluttered

2009-01-18T02:05:00.007-05:00

Well, I'm back. It's been a few days. Sorry if I've left you hanging, wanting to read my next words. Truth is, life intervenes. Most of the time I do my writing late at night and I have been gosh darn tired lately. I actually went to bed a couple of times before 10pm. That is unheard of for me. I am a night owl. Always have been. Suspect I always will be.

Trouble is, when you are a night owl, you pay. So much of the world operates during the day...especially the morning. When I let myself function the way my body wants to function, I am up until all hours and will sleep the morning away. But those silly public schools will not allow my children's classes to start after noon time. I have to get up and get my older children off to school and take care of my little guy.

So I struggle. I don't know how other people fit in everything that they want and need to do in a day. I just don't have time. I often become overwhelmed. I see the pile of unwashed dishes, the dirty laundry and the unpaid bills and I wilt. I look at the home repair projects and sag. I see my dog pawing at the door when it is -7 degrees Farenheit outside and sigh. I look at the phone and think of relatives I haven't spoken to lately, friends I should call and hours I need to work and sigh deeper. I think of writing projects I want to do, books I want to read and recipes I want to try and it feels like a huge weight upon my shoulders. I see the snow in the driveway, unshovelled. I talk to a neighbor and find out that he has congestive heart failure and think to myself how I should be helping him shovel his driveway. My children want me to play with them. They want me to feed them. I need to change diapers. I need to go food shopping. But first I have to clean out the refrigerator.

And don't even get me started about spending time with my husband. I just don't get to. Not at this point in my life anyway. By the time he is home from work he is wiped out tired. He eats dinner, watches tv, and goes to bed. Sometimes, as I have said previously, we lift weights together. But we hardly have time for a good conversation.

I know. Wah wah wah. Stop whining you say. No. I won't. This is my blog and if I want and need to whine, I will and you will just have to suck it up and enjoy the cheese with the wine. It's nice...a brie I think. Try it with the apple whine.

Everyone is busy. I know. I just don't know how everyone juggles all this crap. I'm a fairly simple individual. I like the outdoors. I like books. I enjoy my dog, my children. I have a credit card, but am VERY reluctant to use it due in part to some very large credit problems a few years back. (I think we've learned our lesson). Although my children do not want for anything, I am more inclined to spend my money on experiences for them than stuff. Yes, my daughter has an iPod, but it helps her focus to do her homework in our noisy household. She is an honor student who is interested in becoming a writer someday (or a cattle rancher). She loves all things creative. She paints, she writes, she has done some stop motion animation, she has done some drama. I am hoping that she will be able to participate in Rebel Shakespeare this summer. If you don't know what Rebel Shakespeare is, visit www.rebelshakespeare.org . I'm not sure I will be able to pull it off as we cannot afford the full tuition. I hope I can find a scholarship for her to go, but we will see.

My other two children are talented and smart too. I know that I am bragging, but if you can't brag in your blog, where can you brag? My son Christopher takes karate. He goes twice a week. His teacher says he shows a lot of talent for it. He is focused, strong and disciplined for a five year old. His kindegarten teacher has said he is her top student. She has also said that he is one of the nicest children she has in either of the two classes she teaches (morning or afternoon kindegarten). I feel proud of him for that.

My youngest, Daniel, has an intense imagination and seems to be musically inclined. He likes to sing, although he won't admit it. He takes a music movement class once a week. He likes to pretend he doesn't like it but I catch him singing snatches of the songs during the week. He is sweet, emotional and loving. He is by far the most social of my three children. My brother-in-law's girlfriend came by last week with a friend and in no time he had her down in the basement showing her his train table, his hotwheels and his leggos. He assumes that everyone wants to talk (read listen) to him, everyone wants to play with him and you will of course forgive him if he doesn't allow you a word in edgewise.

So I take care of the kids. I take care of the pets (cat, dog, and at present, some caterpillars that will be butterflies in a few weeks). I take a few half-hearted stabs at taking care of the house. I let my husband know I WANT to take care of him but hope he understands if I don't do a great job, and I have almost nothing left to take care of me. This blog is taking care of me, but I am up at 2:44am writing it, so I will pay on the other end - except that I am writing while I am working, so I will get SOME sleep in between the interruptions from bickering, shouting kids and husband.

How do people really handle all the things that they want and need to handle in their lives? There is so much that I want to do. I am trying to pace myself, but I also feel like my clock is ticking. Not my biological clock in the usual sense, as I have several children. But my mortal clock. I feel like there is so much that I want to do before I am unable to because of age or circumstance. There is volunteering. There is hiking. There is climbing, camping, writing, joking, laughing and communing that I want to do. I want to teach my children, learn from my children and the universe and to just plain experience all that I can before my time is up. I want a sex life back (try having one with three young children underfoot). I want to be a good companion to my husband. He is my best friend and yet he is often expected to wait for my attention. How long can he wait? How long should he wait? Should he wait at all? Will he tire of waiting and turn to someone else eventually? I hope not. I love him with all my heart and soul, but I hardly show him that. I am usually too tired and grumpy to.

I don't really show my friends much attention either. I love them, I really do, but I just find that the pace of life hardly affords me the time to do even an eighth of what I would like to for my friends. I have a few that have offered me a good shoulder to cry on, some laughs, and just a place where I don't feel like such a freak. You know who you are.

And life is passing. Life is speeding by. I won't have these days back. I am always missing opportunities to show people I care about how I feel about them. I really hope that they know I DO care. I hope that even though I am wrapped up in making my daily rounds that my friends and family know that I care about them. I love them. I think about them every day.

We loose touch so easily from those we hold dear. We're always saying, "In a minute." I will call in a minute. I will stop by tomorrow. I will send that card or gift next time I go to the post office. I won't call now. They might be sleeping. Or working. Or out to lunch. Or in a meeting. There's always something that intervenes.

Maybe I shouldn't let it. Maybe I should say, "Too bad if you're sleeping." Or maybe it's too bad if you are working. Or out to lunch. Or in a meeting. I care about you and wanted to let you know now. You are NOT alone. You are NOT forgotten. I DO care. But I will let you know later...at a decent hour.

Why Fight Gravity?

2009-01-07T23:34:00.006-05:00

I am so sore. I can't believe how dumb I have been lately. I have gone against my better judgement and begun to exercise regularly. My husband (I need to start using his name here, Steve) have begun lifting weights on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays. I walk twice a week with my friend Ellen on Tuesday and Thursday, and I am using my Wii system to do Wii Fit, have a Wii Personal trainer and do Dancing With the Stars for Wii. I have been really sore. I'm trying not to grumble, but I am so out of shape that everything hurts.

It's hard to fight gravity and inertia. It's just so much easier not to work out. But I have to admit that I have a lot more energy than I usually do. I'm sure it's because I have been working out. I can't wait until the weather warms up and I can walk my pooch more regularly again. I want to go hiking. We'll see. He may be too chubby by then to handle it.

Now, this is NOT a new year's resolution or anything. I never make those. I figure that eventually I would always break those resolutions. So, the way I choose to look at this is that I need to keep from being bored. Boredom is my enemy. When I get bored, I get depressed. That is when I start to feel miniscule in the cosmos, to feel that I am insignificant, unimportant and not good enough. My stint last summer in the hospital brought my own mortality home to me. I won't say that it was a life changing event...it wasn't. It should have been, but I don't think, in all honesty, that it was. I still eat crap. I still have not sorted things out with God, I am still angry with people in my past (you know who you are). I have not done a careful inventory of my life and come to any deep epiphanies.

I have just realized that I am fat and life does not last forever. If I don't take care of what I have, I will lose it. Not only that, if I am not a good example, my children will learn terrible habits and I will have failed as a mother. I want them to be better off than I am. I want their lives to be happier, healthier, more in touch with God, closer to being on the right path for them, and more fulfilling. It won't be any of those things if they see me throwing away what God gave me.

Sigh. The whole "like it or not you are an example," thing is wearisome sometimes. But there it is. I created these beings...my children, and since I did I owe it to them to provide them with the best care possible. I have to teach them right from wrong, show them how to achieve their dreams and catch them when they fall trying to achieve those dreams. I don't know if I am up to the task...I think I fall short in so many areas. But that is just too bad. I don't have the luxury of curling up in a ball and throwing my hands up and saying "No mas." I have to get up every day and stare any failures I have made in the face. Like it or not.

But I get to see and share in the successes too. I get to be there to see my son be the lead in his class play (he's Rudolph), and I get to go to parent-teacher conferences and hear that my children are very bright and well behaved. I was told that my daughter could easily skip a grade academically - we just thought that she needs to be with kids her own age for social reasons, so we didn't pursue that idea. I get to see my little guy come out of his shell inch by inch. I get to tuck them in at night and read to them. I get to see them learn to read and write, and to investigate the world around them. It's awesome.

So tonight, it will be easy to write the five things I am grateful for as I sign off. Here they are:

1.) I am grateful for a new year
2.) I am grateful for people that motivate me to work out
3.) I am grateful that I am still fairly healthy
4.) I am grateful that I can take care of myself
5.) I am grateful that my children are so terrific

And now my bucket list:

1.) Before I die, I want to make sure all my family and friends really know that I love them
2.) Before I die, I want to set up accounts for my children to go to school if that is what they want after high school
3.) Before I die, I want to set up a foundation in my son Thomas' memory
4.) Before I die, I want to teach my children to have compassion for those less fortunate
5.) Before I die, I want to figure out my relationship with and to God

Goodnight.

Not only Unfunky, but Unoriginal

2009-01-06T23:08:00.003-05:00

Hey. I'm feeling pretty awful right now. I wasn't until a couple of minutes ago. See, I go through this dance when I write. Or when I prepare to write. That's a more accurate statement. I read my email, visit my facebook account, read my friends' blogs, read blogs that are linked to my friends' blogs, and finally, when I have screwed my courage to the sticking post, I jump in and start to write. Most days I don't know what the topic is going to be until I start writing it. It seems to spin itself out eventually though.

While I was going through my nightly gyrations and rituals to prepare to write, I found myself reading my own feelings. At first I thought, "This is great, I'm not the only one who feels this way. I am not alone." But after a few dozen minutes of poking through people's lives, I began to realize something...I am not special. There is nothing unique about me. It seems that every thought I have had someone else has had before. No matter what spin I try to put on things it seems that there were several others walking down that particular path before me.

So what is the point of me? Why do I exist? If I'm just a replication of everything that is out there already, why bother? I recently bought a new calendar. There are some pretty funny things on this calendar. The theme of the calendar seems to be cynical humor. January's picture is of a half naked guy (you only see from the shoulders up so relax) with a really bad mullet. The caption reads, "Your purpose in life may be only to serve as a warning to others." It seemed really funny when I bought it at the store, but I find myself thinking about that statement. Can you imagine if the only reason you exist is so that others can look at you and go, "Boy, at least I haven't turned out like that guy." Kind of like guests on the Jerry Springer show.

Which brings me to a little side discussion. If you are a friend or family member of mine reading this, please take this to heart. If you EVER ask me to go on Jerry Springer with you, you can assume that I know that our relationship, whatever it may be, is over, and that you are doing something fairly bizarre and red-necked. Which is WHY the relationship is ending. There is absolutely NO WAY that I will go on any show with you to discuss any aspect of our relationship. Just the fact that you are asking me to indicates that our relationship is not what I thought it was and things are over in a very big way.

But I digress. Does my life serve as a warning to others of what not to become? Tonight I feel tired, dumpy and as unattractive as possible. So probably. At one point in my life I was on the way to becoming someone. To being something special. But not anymore. Now I am just a middle aged woman with stretchmarks from several pregnancies, a pudgy middle and more than one chin. An old friend wrote on her blog that she has just recently accepted that she is nobody special. I'm not sure I can accept that I am nobody special either. But I am not particularly special. There is nothing that really stands out about me.

As I say that, part of me says, "Who cares?" Who cares if I am special? I have a husband who loves me - don't look that particular gift horse in the mouth, there are so many who do not have even that. I have a home, I have beautiful children (they get their beauty from their Daddy, trust me), and an awesome dog. I have been to Europe, I have friends and I live in a decent neighborhood. I'm not tremendously ill (anymore) and I am in relatively good health. Why should I care if I am special? I should just appreciate what I have and live my life, right? Right.

But I care. I wanted to set the world on fire. I wanted to make my mark. I wanted to make a difference somehow. But here I am, almost 40, and I haven't done a single thing to make life better for anyone else. I haven't changed anything significantly. I wanted to live a full and exciting life, full of travel to exotic locations, interesting things to do and to make others' lives richer because they knew me. But that isn't happening.

Why not? Because I have to fix my bathroom. My minivan needs to be inspected and my children need to eat. They may have a snow day tomorrow and I am hoping that they will allow the telecommuting to work to happen without too much grumbling. My dog sometimes barfs in his kennel because he refuses to eat what he needs to.

I am not very charismatic either. People don't gravitate toward me. I'm the sort of person you want to be around if you want to be sure that your child is picked up from school on time. If you want to be sure that your five year old is not watching Saw V while away from you, I'm your man (or woman as the case may be). But don't look to me if you are looking for a fun date, someone who has been cliff diving or spelunking. Those things appeal to me, but for one reason or another I have just never been able to fit them in.

Maybe when I am fifty I will go skydiving. But even if I do, who will care? That won't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Is there a single thing that I could do that would matter in the grand scheme of things? Unlikely. If there were, someone more charismatic has probably already beat me to the punch.

Ever hear of that movie, "The Bucket List?" It's a movie with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman I think. I think the premise of the movie is that they are middle aged men and they have a list of things they want to do before they kick the bucket so to speak. I haven't seen the movie. I want to - it's on my list of things to do before I die, but I haven't made it yet. I think I need a bucket list. But my bucket list wouldn't just be a bunch of random things that I want to try before I croak. My bucket list would be a list of things I would want to do that might help others before I die.

Here's my bucket list:
1.) I want to open my home to someone less fortunate than me.
2.) I want to donate my time to something like Habitat for Humanity or something like that
3.) I want to work in a soup kitchen
4.) I want to give something that is really hard for me personally to give because the person I am giving it to really needs it
5.) I want to learn to want less

That's just a start. I think I will add to my bucket list every post the way I add to my list of things that I am grateful for. I'm going to give you that list and sign off because it's getting late and I need to go to bed.

I am grateful for:
1.) Friends, both old and new. I couldn't get through without them.
2.) That I have enough of the things that I need to survive
3.) That I can type - writing seems to be somehow therepeutic
4.) My children's affection. They are lovable and squishy, even if they don't want their friends to know
5.) Auto detailing - I spilled chicken soup. Enough said.

My salute to object permanence

2009-01-05T21:48:00.006-05:00

I had to send my Christopher to his room for the evening tonight. It really sucks. I hate doing it, but I knew it had to be done. He was a bit out of control. We were in Walmart and he was angry that I would not buy him something. We were there to buy a birthday present for a friend. He didn't want to accept that, and was angry with me. He knew that the time had come to silence his protests, but he was still angry. So instead of fighting with me, he chose to take his anger out on his brother Daniel. He picked a fight, then decided to hit Daniel. So I told him that when we got home he was to go directly to his room and he would spend the rest of the night there. We would bring dinner up to him as he was not allowed to be with the family if he could not act appropriately around them.

Does it sound a bit harsh to you? Banishing him for the whole evening for batting his younger brother? Well, let me tell you that I have been trying to work with him on this subject for the last month or so. I have given him the benefit of the doubt several times. I have tried other methods - talking things out, time out, spankings. Nothing has been working. Plus he is resorting to that most annoying behavior, the "Please please." You know what that is, admit it. Here is what it looks like and don't even try to tell me you have not seen it if you are a parent:

"(Insert child's name here), I told you to stop that!"

Response: "Oh, I forgot."

"Do that again and you WILL be punished."

Response: "Oh, okay, I won't do it again."

"There you are, doing _____ again! Didn't I tell you not to do that? You are going straight to your room the minute we walk in the door buster! You are in bed for the night!"

Response: "Please please Mommy (or Daddy), I won't do it again! I promise promise!" They say this last as if you should know that by saying the word promise twice they REALLY mean it this time.

"No. I told you last time that if you did it again you would be punished! You did it again anyway. You are going to bed when we get home!"

At this point the response is nonverbal to begin with...a tantrum, followed by screaming and crying, "No! I am NOT going to my room!"

And it only gets better from there sister.

The hard part about this is that I really do understand. I understand his feelings and sympathize with him. I know it's hard not to just turn around and knock someone's block off when the person you really want to pummel is out of reach for various reasons. Maybe they are older than you and/or bigger. Maybe they sign your paycheck. Maybe there's a court order forbidding you from doing so, or if there isn't and you do this, there will be. Maybe you just know that even though they deserve it, we are instructed to turn the other cheek. Or maybe you just know that you have to continue working with this person in spite of how things turn out and it might be better to not burn that particular bridge.

A friend of mine was telling me recently about someone she has to work with who is a real jerk. She was trying to remain Christian in her dealings with him, but by her account he did not seem to think that it was necessary that he do so. She really wanted to knock his block off. I wanted to encourage her to in all honesty. He really seemed like someone who would be difficult to bear. She kind of seemed like she was looking for advice, so I did my best. Wanna know what I told her?

I told her to let him know in no uncertain terms, that he was acting like a jerk. Speak the truth in love. I told her that I personally believe that this is just as Christian as the "turn the other cheek" way of doing things. Sometimes I think it is moreso. The example I used was of a parent with a child. I asked her if she would tell her children when they were acting like jerks. She said that yes indeed, she would. Why is that? I asked. She said that she felt that it was her job to let them know when they were not acting appropriately in civilized society before someone bigger, with more muscle and less compassion and love does.

So if you should tell your children that they are acting like jerks, my theory goes, why not tell this someone who is not your child? Because it won't change anything for the better she responded. Hmmmm. But who are you telling them for? Them? Or you? While I fully believe in speak the truth in love, sometimes I think you need to do that because it benefits you to get it off your chest. Once you do that, you can often move on and let go of it.

I wonder why that is. Why telling someone that they are being a real jerk can often allow you to move past their jerkiness. Maybe just speaking the truth out loud somehow allows you to put a face to the feelings whorling around inside you, and putting a face on it allows you to categorize it outside of yourself. The problem can be sorted into the "it's you, it's not me," box, which creates a boundary. Boundaries are important. To learn to separate yourself from others. To know which things are yours to own and which things are not.

This is a task that developmentally is really early. One of the first things a baby must learn is that it is separate from its mother. When Mommy goes away, baby cries. When Mommy returns, baby stops crying. Experts tell you the reason that this happens is that baby has not learned that Mommy will come back and that Mommy is a separate person. When this task is learned, the crying stops when Mommy disappears because baby knows that Mommy will return. This is referred to as object permanence.

Are we adults who struggle with telling someone when they are acting like a jerk struggling to relearn this object permanence thing, but in a different way? Are we struggling to understand that when someone is jerky to us, that doesn't mean that we are also a jerk? I think we all sometimes forget that others are not having the same collective thought - that we are jerks. Individuals may think that, sure, but I think sometimes that when someone is rude, unkind or otherwise jerky to us that many of us are reacting as if that is what everyone must think. We put this into the group consciousness and fail to remember that not everyone is the same. There are millions of individuals out there ... they are not the same as you nor are they the same as the joker who is treating you so unfairly.

So when we experience these jerks in our lives, what should we do? My thoughts on this, which you are obviously interested in if you are still reading, are this: We should send this jerk to their figurative room until they can act civilly. We can choose to send them dinner if we do not want to be the same kind of jerk as they are, or we can choose to let them feel the consequences of antisocial behavior...hunger in one form or another.

Just a thought.

My five things that I am grateful for:

1.) I am grateful that I can choose who I hang out with
2. ) I am grateful that my son knows that I love him even when he is a jerk
3.) I am grateful that my son can forgive me when I act like a jerk
4.) I am grateful that there are people in my life who can tolerate my particular brand of jerkiness.
5.) I am grateful that when I am a jerk, there are people who will let me know and will give me another try.

Why Me?

2009-01-04T21:08:00.005-05:00

This is a thought that occurs to me a lot. Way too frequently. I am going to work very hard to stamp that question out of my repertoire. Want to know why? Because basically, its a pointless question. Who knows why me? Who cares? The fact is, it is me. I am responsible for whatever it is that needs doing. Whining about why I have to be the one to do it is a tremendous waste of time. My time and yours.

I don't know if you do this, but I ask myself that type of question far too often. Why do I have to be the one to clean up the dishes in the kitchen? Why is it always me expected to empty the dishwasher? Who cares? Just shut yer trap and do it. Why is it me that has to make sure the kids have their back packs ready for school? Why do I have to be the one to make the lunches? Because you're their mom you whiney baby. Shut it and do it.

While I am working to stamp those questions out of my repertoire, can you do me a favor though? Dump your stereotypes please. Stop over generalizing and trying to fit me into a box. I am not going to be Beaver Cleaver's mom and wear dresses. I wear jeans and/or sweat pants. They are comfortable. Way more comfortable than those stupid nylons. Warmer too. I hate to be cold. I like to cook sometimes, but then there are periods of time that I have zero interest in cooking. If you are a member of my family I will try to provide you with three nutritious meals of some type every day, but don't count on it to be from scratch. I have to be in the mood for that. If you think I am lazy, then feel free to cook something yourself. Unless you are under twelve. Then you can accept what I am offering for the meal or feel very hungry. If you are over twelve and don't like what I am offering or when I am offering it, please feel free to crack open a cook book or two and whip up a meal. I won't be offended. I won't stop you and I definitely will not hover over your shoulder telling you how to do it. Mi casa is su casa.

I'm generous like that. I will open up my home to you. If you want something to eat, you are free to cook. If you feel that your clothing is not clean enough, I am happy to share my washing machine with you. If you don't feel that I am doing a great job with the housekeeping, feel free to pick up a mop, a broom, or a dusting cloth and show me how it's done. I have no ego about it. I am open to instruction. I just learn better if you demonstrate - just telling me will not be enough.

My husband and I are pretty flexible about any of the tasks that need doing around the house. We don't have any preformed ideas of whose job it is either. We are both generous souls, willing to let anyone step up to the plate and show us how things are done. If something bothers you and it is not up to code, please feel free to instruct us. We take criticism quite well, as long as its constructive, and you are willing to instruct us in ways that we will absorb your lesson. If you have some 1950's notion of the roles of men and women in the household, please feel free to elaborate. We will not necessarily agree with you, but you are more than welcome to share your ideas with us.

If you are interested in my thoughts, however, I am happy to share those as well. Since this blog is a place where I have said that I will share my thoughts with those who are interested in reading them, I will share my thoughts here. It seems that the topic of discussion for tonight is men and women's roles. I don't really know why that is the topic of discussion, but since it is, I am happy to share. If this stuff bores you, feel free to skip or skim this or you can come back another night, when I am not ranting about this stuff.

So let's begin. First off, during my college days I read a little Dorothy Sayers. I won't pretend to be very widely read on the subject, but something I read that she said a number of years ago has stayed with me all these years. I won't try to quote exactly, as I don't have the source right at my finger tips, but it goes something like this: "I do not want to be considered for a particular job or function because I am female. I want to be considered for the job because I am me, uniquely qualified with my set of skills and talents to do the job well, and I want to do it." So let's stop pretending that a vagina or penis makes you more or less qualified to complete a job, unless that job is one of procreation or delivering babies.

Do I agree that men may have certain proclivities that lend themselves to certain functions? Perhaps. But that does not rule out the possibility that there are women who have unique abilities and interests that make them suitable for the job. Let's talk about specifics here. Let's talk about childrearing. Many people would say that women are the softer sex. That because of this perceived softness they are more capable of being nurturing. But what if a particular woman was not reared in a particularly nurturing environment? What if those aspects of personality were not valued or encouraged? Couldn't it be possible that she may not have developed those skills? Perhaps the capacity to nurture is like a muscle, and if not exercised it withers. What then? Is she a defective woman, to be thrown out with the curbside trash? Or is it possible that lacking that nurturing personality, other things may have been developed that could be of value? Other things that may lend themselves to taking care of a family? Perhaps she identified with the bread winner of her family. Perhaps she was raised to value toughness and work ethics, salesmanship and the ability to barter. If said woman had this skill set, would she be considered less of a woman, less capable of taking care of her young?

Conversely, if a man was raised in a particularly nurturing environment, wouldn't it be possible that he may develop those soft and nurturing skills that would lend themselves to childrearing? Is it possible that he may be better suited to providing the love and attention that his young would need? If he were to nurture his children and see to their needs both physically and emotionally, is there something wrong with him? Is he raising sissies? Why is it that when we see a man who is emotional, our first thoughts are often to wonder if he is gay? To think that he is somehow, "flamboyant?"

Many would argue with me that we have moved away from such extremes. We are modern men and women. We have stay-at-home dads, working moms and the like. So why is it that women still get paid less than men for the same jobs and men get ostracized from the mom's clubs or playgroups in our neighborhood parks and churches?

Just some food for thought. We can talk more at another time. For now though, I am signing off. Vacation is over and I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for the start of the week. But here are my five things that I am grateful for:

1.) I am grateful that my husband and I see eye to eye on many of the household tasks
2.) I am grateful that I can choose my own path
3.) I am grateful that I can recognize and stop myself from whining
4.) I am grateful that I can refuse to be boxed in to a stereo type
5.) I am grateful that I can write.

Life Turns on a Dime...

2009-01-04T03:18:00.003-05:00

Hey everyone. Everyone who reads this anyway. I just found out that a friend of mine lost her husband abruptly to a massive heart attack. This past weekend they were sharing the new year's arrival and now...he's gone. Just like that.

Big sigh here. It just brings me back to what I was thinking about when my Tommy died. The fact that you just never know what you will be faced with at any given time. We all go about our daily business and rarely give a passing thought to the fact of our mortality or the mortality of those we love. We go to work, eat bacon, go shopping, try on shoes, complain about our finances and the cold, and we never really know when our story will be over. We don't know when the proverbial covers will be slammed shut, cutting off our happily ever after. We spend much of our time grousing about how our ever after is not a happily as we would like.

Too bad bub. If you aren't happy in your ever after, who should be held responsible for that? Me? Your cat? Dr. Phil? I don't think so. The person responsible is staring back at you when you look in the mirror to brush your teeth in the morning. I'm not about to tell you that you don't have a right to grouse. How should I know? I don't walk in your shoes every day. Maybe you have a tremendous daily burden. Maybe you have paper skin and glass bones. I don't know. All I am saying is that the only person who can really make a move to bring more happily into your ever after is you. You aren't helpless. You aren't powerless. You may just have to adjust your expectations a bit.

You might want to tell me to stick my happily ever after in my ear. You have the right to feel that way. But will telling me that make you feel happier? If so, here I am my friend, waiting for you to tell me where to put my happily ever after. You can email me, you can put it in the comment section of this blog, whatever works for you. You could even send it U.S. mail if you have my snail mail address. I don't mind. I bruise easily yes, but I will recover.

Will that make you happier? If so, more power to you. If not, then why are you complaining about not being happy? Why not just do whatever you need to do in order to be happy? How important is it to you that you are happy? Are you willing to do what it takes in order to find that happiness? Even if its hard to find your happily ever after?

Why does it seem like it's so hard for you to find happiness when it seems easy for others? Why is life so unbalanced, so unfair? I don't know. It just is. All I know is that you are wasting time stomping your feet about life not being fair and being overly hard for you. Time that could be spent pursuing whatever you need to pursue in order to have your own little piece of happily ever after.

And the clock is ticking. Your clock. Ticking out the moments. Counting out the seconds that you could be using to be happy. To be fulfilled. To work towards something really meaningful. Something of substance. Something that will cause your God to say, "This is my son/daughter in whom I am pleased." Something that will make you stop brushing your teeth for a moment, stare in the mirror, and realize that you did what you needed to do. What you could do. That you should be proud and satisfied.

If that moment came, right now, where your story was over, could you say you did all you could to write your happily ever after?

Five things I am grateful for:

1.) I am not completely powerless over my life
2. ) I am completely powerless over my life (yeah, I know, a paradox)
3.) I am still writing my happily ever after
4.) I can write my happily ever after in pencil
5.) Pencils have erasers

2009-01-02T23:57:00.005-05:00

Well, here I am, at work. Finally I have some time to write. I haven't had much lately. I keep trying to find a way to squeeze a few minutes in here or there but in the end I always feel like I am taking something away from someone else. It's an ongoing struggle of mine. If I don't write, I feel like I have nothing for myself and I start to panic.

Like today. We took the kids to the Museum of Science. We wanted to do something fun and educational with them. We even bought a Museum of Science membership. To make it even more fun we invited a friend of Allison's and her mother. Her friend's name is Ashley and her mom is Christine. Christine is a kindegarten teacher. She is very upbeat, positive and friendly. She is a generous soul and very full of information. I enjoy her.

The problem? The fact that I am a narcissist. My daughter is beginning to venture into that age where she wants nothing to do with mom unless it involves money for food, transportation to fun events, and being a touchstone to reassure herself that all is well. That is my job. That is my role. I feel shut out. I want to have this very close relationship with Allison where she confides in me and shares all her joys and fears with me. But that is not the job. And I'm not sure I am qualified for the job I have to do. I want to be her buddy. Her pal. Her friend. But I recognize that is not what I am needed for, and that hurts. Deep. I've been replaced. By another 9 year old. Hurrah. Meh.

I tried on several occassions today to hook up with Allison and discuss what she was seeing at the museum. At every pass she avoided me and ran off to be with her chum. Which is what a 9 year old girl is supposed to do I guess. We went to see an exhibit they had on display about mythical creatures - you know, mermaids, dragons, the kraken, unicorns...all things a 9 year old girl is fascinated with. We walked through the exhibit. We read the materials presented. I spoke with Christine, the schoolteacher, about the significance of the dragon in the Chinese New Year. But I couldn't tell you if my daughter enjoyed herself. Not even a little bit. I felt so dreadfully out of touch with her. I feel like I should be able to tell whether or not she enjoyed the exhibit, but I really can't say.

I couldn't find much solace in my boys either. They wouldn't keep still long enough to find out what they enjoyed. They seemed mostly focused on hitting each other and running away from Steve and I. Christopher will often pull away from me violently when I try to get him to calm down and focus.

At least I know what Daniel did not like. We bought tickets to the Dinosaurs Alive show. The boys love dinosaurs. But Daniel was terrified of this show. He ended up needing to be carried out he was so scared. He spent the rest of the day informing us that he preferred the dinosaurs that did not move. He wanted to spend all day in the dinosaur exhibit area looking at the Tyrannosaurus Rex and the other dinosaur models and fossils. When we went into the 3-d theatre later to watch the show about sharks, Daniel wouldn't even look for the first 10 minutes because he had thought we brought him back into the dinosaur show. Eventually the boys were taken at least a little by the shark show. They spent some time watching and naming the sharks - they often read books about sharks with me, so they know the names of various sharks. They pointed out the whale shark, the scalloped hammerhead and the great white shark. I was impressed that they remembered these.

We also spent a fair amount of time in the area where you can design your own fish. Once they designed and named the fish, they could also release it into the collective virtual ocean. My children spent a fair amount of time trying to control the behaviors of the various fish (you can do that via the various consoles available in the area), upset if their fish got eaten of course. My boys, true to their mischievous natures, went all out to see to it that the girls' fish were eaten. The little punks (secretly I am glad they have this mischievous streak).

Another big no for the boys - the Van De Graff generator. You know the really loud noisy machine that generates bolts of lightening? I have been in that show several times in the last nine years and never once been able to see it. I've heard it's a great show. I'd love to hear about it since I have never been able to actually see it, so if you've seen the show please, feel free to tell me all about it. You won't spoil any surprises since I can't see it anyway.

That seems to be another of my roles...remover from all things scary and loud. I don't get to actually enjoy the shows we go to, I am there to be sure that my children are enjoying, and if they are not, to remove the obstacles to enjoyment. If that is not possible then my job seems to be to remove them. To avoid nightmares you know.

So please, help me develop something outside of my children. I love them. I want to be with them. But I am coming to realize that I am a conduit with them. I am not there to be sharing their experience with them. I am there to be sure that they can have the experience at all and to take from it what they can. My involvement and/or enjoyment is secondary. So I must develop enjoyable experiences outside of my relationship with them. Not that I don't enjoy them. Don't misunderstand. I do. It's just different. I enjoy the fact that I am able to assist them in their adventures in the world, even if I can't share those adventures with them in the way I once thought I would.

Here are five things I am grateful for before I sign off:

1.) I am grateful that my children are curious about the world around them
2.) I am grateful that my children have distinct personalities
3.) I am grateful that my children are capable of developing friendships
4.) I am grateful that I can write about my experiences as a parent
5.) I am grateful that I live in an area that provides opportunities for my children to learn about the world around them in an interactive way.

For Auld Angs Syn

2009-01-01T12:24:00.004-05:00

What exactly does that mean? For Auld Angs Syn? I have no real idea. Whenever I hear it sung it seems to mean something maudlin and misty and reminscient. I suppose that makes sense if you are looking back at the old year and thinking about all the good times you had and the people you will miss.

But frankly, 2008 sucked majorly for me. I lost the entire summer to being sick. I was flat on my back for a month and a half. I had to learn how to walk again. And that was the good part. I actually almost died. I had a combination staph and strep infection in my leg. That went septic and on top of that, I got pneumonia. They had to intubate me in order to help me breathe. A friend of mine who works in the medical field told me after I recovered that only 1/3 of the people who wind up in my situation actually recover. Usually it's fatal.

I am still recovering from that illness. I have no stamina. I found that out when I went swimming in November. I raced a 10 year old girl across the pool in a hotel. It was a small pool. I was exhausted when I reached the other side and was sucking wind.

The other reason it sucks is because since I was out of work from May until September we took a big hit financially. We had to pull my daughter from horseback riding lessons and my son from Preschool. I suppose that if that is all that is problematic I should count myself lucky. We are eating, we have a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. So we are pretty lucky. But I am bummed out that we had to take those activities from our children. Allison was enjoying horseback riding so much. She was doing well and it was helping her to be more confident. It was terrific. She looked so tall and proud in the saddle. It made me feel great knowing that we could do that for her. Now we can't. It bums me out.

Pulling Daniel from Preschool sucks too. He was making friends and learning how to follow directions. He was trying new things and challenging his mind. Now he is going to just be home with me. I hope that I can provide him with enough stimulation.

I hope my kids don't feel like they are being punished. They don't deserve that. They deserve good things. They deserve to be happy. They are good kids.

In 2008 my father in law lost his eye to a strep infection. He has had about 3 months of going back and forth to Massachusetts Eye and Ear. He has had to have surgeries, ivs, medications, and many many doctor visits.

In 2008 my oldest brother was told by his wife that she no longer wants to BE his wife. She has decided that she wants him out of her life and that she wants nothing to do with him. They have two children together. My brother was raising a third child of hers (had during an affair during her marriage to my brother) as his own. Now the father of that child is threatening my brother's life and by all accounts is not a good man. He had nothing to do with his daughter for the first four years of her life. He never paid any child support, nor did he visit her. Now he is acting psychotic and demanding that my brother stay away from his daughter.

In 2008 my father had a ministroke, or a TIA. This "mini" stroke has made it difficult for him to talk or use his right side. Since about 15 years ago he had a stroke that made it difficult for him to use his left side, this is most unhelpful. He has to take deep breaths and force the air out of his lungs to talk.

In 2008 my mother and her husband David began having troubles flipping houses. Due to the economy the housing market has come to an almost standstill and they are stuck with two houses that they cannot move and they cannot afford to keep.

So, forgive me if I do not get misty about 2008. Forgive me if I am not nostalgic. I am more interested in looking AHEAD. I want to look forward into 2009. I am hoping that this year will be better. That there will be good things in 2009. Perhaps my return to work will put us on more solid financial footing. Perhaps my health will be better. Hopefully my brother will work things out with his wife and failing that hopefully he will find a way to make his children feel secure while enduring the divorce. Hopefully my father's health will stabilize. No more strokes, TIA's or "ministrokes." (Whatever that means...nothing seems mini about losing the ability to talk to me). Hopefully my mother and step father will straighten out their financial troubles. Hopefully my father-in-law will not have any more complications from his eye infection. Neither will my mother-in-law.

So, I guess the new year is a season of hope for me. I am hoping for health for all, stability and security. I raise my glass to you. I hope you and yours are healthy, stable and secure. Oh. And happy. I hope you are happy too.

Here are my five things that I am grateful for:

1.) I am grateful that 2008 is over
2.) I am grateful that 2009 has been positive so far
3.) I am grateful that telecommuting has been going well so far
4.) I am grateful for Dancing with the Stars for Wii
5.) I am grateful that no one in my family is currently sick or injured

For Auld Angs Syn

Yet Another Fill In Post...

2008-12-29T20:14:00.002-05:00

Hey all (all who read this anyway). Hope everything is going well with you and yours. I'm going to make this brief as Daniel, my youngest, wants to cuddle. I just wanted to pop in for a brief moment to say I had a fabulous time in New Hampshire with my brother and his family, had a surprisingly good time out with my mother in spite of her financial woes, and am even prouder of my younger brother than before. He is a good man. I will tell you more about why later. Just know that I am growing in my admiration of him and hope that somehow he knows this.

Here are my five things that I am grateful for:
1.) I am grateful for the fact that Brady is back home. I missed my puppy. He has been very tired all day which shows that he had all the attention he needed and that makes me feel good.
2.) I am grateful that my husband is not a male chauvanist. He was a tremendous help as we cleaned our home up today.
3.) I am grateful that I found a sale and was able to buy my boys the winter jackets that they needed
4.) I am grateful for my children's desire to cuddle with me. I need and want their affection and want and need to give them affection.
5.) I am grateful that my nieces and nephews are doing well. I love them more dearly than they can know.

And so this is Christmas...

2008-12-26T22:23:00.004-05:00

We have not yet begun the after Christmas clean up. I am in, what I lovingly refer to as, recovery mode. My husband and I stayed up until 4:30am Christmas Day wrapping presents. Our children were gracious enough to allow us to sleep until 9:00 am. If it were me at their age that would not have been happening. I was up out of bed at 4am and the only reason I wasn't starting on the presents at that point was because my parents would have skinned me alive. We waited until 8 am to wake them up.

If memory serves though, we didn't get to actually open anything until around 2pm Christmas Day for many years. Mostly because of my Grandmother. She would call us every year and say she would be here around 11am. Eleven? For any kid on Christmas morning that was just cruel, as we couldn't open anything until she was there. But, yes, eleven I am saying to you. We did not like Grandma Davies. She didn't understand kids. Not only was eleven too long, but she never showed up then. She would show up around two in the afternoon. Yes, we would have to wait. We would have to wait for the grandparents. They would come with their ugly sweater gifts and we would have to wait for them. We would have to endure the lipsticky kisses, the pretense of caring about how we were (she hated children), and feeling intensely uncomfortable around her and grandpa.

I think about them rarely now. My Grandmother and Grandfather are gone. They died several years ago. My grandmother had brain cancer and my grandfather had emphysema and lung cancer. I hope they did not suffer. But I would be lying if I said that I missed them. I think that there is a part of me that is missing or just never learned to love. I did not love them and when they were gone it just meant that my mother was not tortured by them anymore. She told me of several things that they did to her while she was actively their daughter, and it made me hate them. I don't hate them anymore. I have come to terms with the idea that they were whoever they were because of the times they grew up in, who they had for parents, the experiences they had in life and the frustrations they experienced. They were who they were. Not perfect. No more so than I am. They were people who lived their lives the way they saw fit and that was that. They were not particularly giving people, but that was their right to choose to be that way. I don't have to understand it. They lived. They died. The end.

I just wish I could find it in my heart to say that I loved them. But I didn't. I would feel like a liar if I said it. I don't hate them. But I didn't love them either. They wanted very little to do with me. They got their wish. The only time it matters now is when my mom tries to talk about them to me. She doesn't do that often, but when she does, I feel bad as I don't see them in the rosey light that she does. It seems that their deaths have caused my mom to rework history a bit in her mind to paint them in a kinder, gentler light. I don't disabuse her of her notions, after all, who am I to do so? But I remember them. But they weren't my parents. My mom needs and deserves to feel loved by her parents. If casting them in a slightly more flattering light than reality would afford allows her to feel a little of the love that she never got from them while they lived, then more power to her.

I find the "Judge not, lest ye be judged," passage of the Bible difficult here. I don't want to be unloving or anything, but it is very hard not to pass judgement on my grandparents. They did some very mean things. They were selfish and unkind. They treated each other poorly. None of their children seemed to want anything to do with them as they grew up. It makes me sad. They could have had such happy lives. They could have had lives filled with family, fun, laughter and joy. They chose to be bitter and selfish. They chose to be unkind to each other and to teach their children that things matter more than people.

When I was young I remember being at their home and feeling so uncomfortable. I used to get very tense, sitting on the edge of their couch, feet on the plastic runner my grandmother had running through the house. She would continually be making sure that we children (her grandchildren) were not touching anything we were not supposed to. She had nice things all over her home but we were not to touch. Eventually thank goodness my mother stopped bringing us there for the holidays as she realized how impossible it was for us there. We were treated like second class citizens.

I often wonder now if I do that to my children? I want them to grow up with a healthy respect for the belongings of others. I want them to behave properly when we are at someone else's home, but I worry sometimes that they feel too constrained when we visit. Boy I hope not.

Why am I talking about this stuff? I should be talking about the joy of Christmas. I should be sharing all the happy moments that we had. We did have many happy moments. So why am I tramping down unhappy memory lane? Why am I dragging out stuff about my long-dead grandparents now?

Probably because I feel guilty and I do think about them. I wish I could muster some positive memories of them. I mean, it's not like they were drowning kitties when we were at their home. It's just that there are too many negative memories of them, and they clutter up the memory spaces so much that the good memories, if there are any, are shoved into a dim corner. I truly wish that I could think of one time that I enjoyed being with them. One good memory that might offset the bad stuff. But I really can't.

"Judge not, lest ye be judged," I think. Well, I guess in this case God will be judging me rather harshly as I cannot in all honesty think of one good memory. I cannot say one thing that will redeem my recall of them. All I can say is that to my knowledge they never killed anyone. So I guess there is that.

Why am I thinking about all this? Why can I not focus on the really good stuff? I don't really have an answer for you. I get depressed every year during the holidays, and I have never really understood why. Maybe this is part of my attempt to understand why. Maybe I get depressed because I look at the people who have been in my family and know that it could have been oh so different if they had been willing to extend themselves even a little bit. Or someone had taught me how to see how they extended themselves. Maybe that is what is needed. Maybe I need to borrow my mother's rose colored glasses every now and then and try to see good in people. Is that what she is doing when she talks so fondly of her parents? Is she trying to see the good in them? Or is she just being willfully blind?

I didn't start writing this post to slam my grandparents. Really. I was intending to write about Christmas for our family, which was indeed a fun, happy and positive time. We woke up, had our traditional Christmas breakfast (I usually make pancakes or waffles from scratch) and then we opened our gifts. After we exchanged gifts we got dressed and went to my in-laws to exchange gifts with them. They were their usual gracious and warm selves. I got to spend some time chatting with my sister-in-law which I don't get to do very often, and it was nice to have coffee and pie with my mother-in-law. My children got to give what they had picked out to their family and help with dinner as they were able.

I had to work Christmas night, so we left around eight o'clock. I fell asleep for the ride home and was deeply asleep for most of the ride. This would have been the case for the whole ride except we hit a humongous pot hole on the road and it kicked off our fuel pump. Our minivan stopped dead on the highway in the fast lane of traffic. The result was a ride in a state police cruiser to get my children to safety, after which we were able to drive our van home. The state trooper was very friendly and accommodating thank goodness.

So why the talk about grandparents long dead and gone? I think its because the longer I am a parent and watch my husband's parents be grandparents, the more I see what grandparents should be. They love their grandchildren. They take care of them the best way they know how and they do right by them. Like Steve's parents do. I am so proud to call them my in-laws. I know that I can count on them. I know that if we are ever in trouble that they are there for us. I know that about Steve's brothers too. They are good, strong, men of character (they would make all kinds of blustery jokes about this if they read it, but its true). They were the first ones offering to help when we might be stranded Christmas night by the side of the highway. They let us know they would help us immediately if that were necessary. That kind of security and caring is priceless. I only wish I was as good a person as they are. I can only strive to be that good. Maybe my kids will learn from their example and not see my shortcomings. One can hope.

I will write more some other time, but for now I need to sign off. My husband is downstairs by himself. I should probably spend some time with him. I want to let him know how important he is and I doubt leaving him alone tells him anything about how important he is to me.

Here are my five things that I am grateful for today though:

1.) I am grateful that police officers take their charge to protect and serve seriously
2.) I am grateful that I have the brothers-in-law that I do
3.) I am grateful that my mother in law is a good cook
4.) I am grateful that we have loving caring family
5.) I am grateful for the kennel that is taking care of my dog Brady while I visit other family members. I will tell you about it some time soon.

Well, here it is...my preChristmas post...

2008-12-23T13:22:00.003-05:00

So Daniel is in the bath tub. I am here writing. The other two have been bathed and showered. All that needs to happen is that we need to finish up Daniel's bath and I have to take a shower. Then we are off to the mall to finish our Christmas shopping. Sounds so industrious right? Except it's 1:24pm two days before Christmas and I am sitting here at the computer in my bathrobe and socks.

My mom called me this morning. She woke me up. It's no big deal except that I am feeling wiped out from the monthly visit from the cardinal if you know what I mean. My aunt Flo is in town. You know, the one who visits me every 28 days or so. I feel crampy. Headachy. Grumpy. My kids were letting me sleep things off this morning bless their hearts, and I was enjoying the benefits of electric blankets when she called. Sigh. Yes Mom. You woke me up, but it's ok.

The funny thing? She called to tell me how she pissed off my older brother and his wife by waking them up. Go figure.

Well, I gotta sign off for now. My kid is in the bathtub. I gotta get him out so I can get in.

Five things:

1.) I am grateful for laughter
2.) I am grateful for electric blankets
3.) I am grateful for warm showers
4.) I am grateful that the cardinal only visits for a week
5.) I am grateful for my sister who makes me feel young.

I Will Post More Later...But for Now I Sleep...

2008-12-23T00:03:00.003-05:00

Hey all. Just a quick note. I am not sure what the next few days will bring as pertains to blogging, but I will not worry as I am blogging for myself, right? You are all along for the ride. I will have more to say later, but I really must be brief as I must sleep. Tomorrow night promises to be late as we have wrapped NOTHING, that's right, NOTHING and it is two days before Christmas. Unbelieveable.

This will probably mean the usual all-night wrapping session that my husband and I partake of annually. We always promise that we will not do it yet again, but in the end, here we are.

So, forgive me, but I am going to love and leave you here. I will give you my five things that I am grateful for though.

1.) I am grateful for the reminder of what Christmas is all about as I read my friend Chris' blog. She wrote a very moving entry about her favorite Christmas hym, O Little Town of Bethlehem. I won't try to convey everything here, just go read it if you are interested. She is a fantastic writer and someone that lives her faith. I have referred to her blog in earlier posts, but if you are interested in what has moved me so, check out: http://www.amusings.net/clg/december2008/122108.htm . Trying to wrap and give gifts can sometimes push you close to forgetting what this season is supposed to be about. The wonderful gift that we received from God. Whether you are Christian or not, you have to admit that is very wrapped up (no pun intended) in what this season is supposed to be about.

2.) I am grateful for the warm bed I have. I have a nice bed, queen size, nice mattress and box spring from Jordan's Furniture, and a nice electric blanket.

3.) I have a wonderful husband who does what he can to take care of those he loves. I wish I took as good care of him.

4.) I am grateful for such wonderful children who can be so deeply kind and considerate at times. Even if they throw my freshly washed and folded laundry around.

5.) I am grateful for REALLY good neighbors. It matters. Really.

Well, in the interest of being bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow, I am signing off. This has been a rather rushed post and I haven't said all that I want to, but I am forcing myself to go while I still have a chance to get some decent sleep.

Pediatrician vs. Christopher

2008-12-21T03:44:00.006-05:00

So. Here we are. I'm about to write in my blog...about...hmmmm...what should I write about? The fact that I haven't wrapped any of the Christmas gifts that I have picked up? I usually bring them to work to wrap, but for some reason, this year I haven't wanted to do that. It seems like too much hassle. Nah. Not really much to write about in that.

I know...how about my son Christopher? We got to go to the doctor AGAIN last week. He woke up with a bright red rash all over his body last week. As soon as I noticed it we were off to the doctor's. I was worried that it might be related to the Strep A that has been flying around our household this year. So we got to take another trip in to the pediatrician's office. Meh. What a pain in the butt. It's about an hour drive one way. A lot of people have asked me why I haven't found a pediatrician that is closer. Wouldn't it save me time and aggravation? My answer to them? No. A resounding no. My kids' pediatrician has known them since birth, and she really does know them. She treats them with respect, not just like pieces of furniture she must tend to. She asks them how they are doing. She talks to them about the things that she has to do in order to make sure that they are healthy, and she smiles and has a nice bedside manner. The nurses ini the office are kind too. Even when they are obviously swamped they are kind and courteous to both me and my children. We have never had to wait longer than ten or fifteen minutes in the waiting room.

My kids like their pediatrician too. I have never had to fight with them about going. They know her and are comfortable with her. That's important. That your kids are comfortable with their doctor. Some people don't think so, but I do. How will they feel free to discuss anything important with their doctor if they don't like them? My daughter Allison is starting to want privacy. She needs to be able to tell the doctor things even if she feels she cannot tell me. Thankfully we haven't hit any stage where she feels she cannot share things with me. I try to respect her need for privacy and to encourage her to talk about things with her doctor. I also try not to embarrass her by talking about her medical issues in front of friends and relatives. That's private.

My boys know that if they have to get shots it will be over quickly and that they really need the shots and the doctor wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt them. They both knew that anyway until this last visit anyway. Now I'm not so sure. Christopher has been quite sick this past fall. There has been a lot of Strep A in our family lately. Because he keeps coming up sick, the doctor has had to test often for Strep A. He has probably had to be tested for Strep at least four times in the last month. Do you know what the test for Strep A is? It's a cotton swab in the throat. The doctor must take a tongue depressor and hold your tongue down and then swab the back of your throat to get a culture for the lab to grow out and see if there is any Strep in it. It hurts.

So we were on our way to the doctor's office. Christopher asked if he would have to get a shot. I told him that I didn't think so but that I couldn't promise that he wouldn't. I don't ever want to lie to my children. I want them to know that they can trust me. So I won't play games with them about what will happen at the doctor's office. If some unpleasantness must occur, I won't trick them into thinking it won't. I won't wait until the last second either. I am straightforward with them about this stuff. I think the direct approach is best, otherwise you have a fight on your hands.

Christopher seemed to accept what I said about the shots just fine. Then he thought a moment and asked if he would have to get the thing stuffed into the back of his throat, "I don't like that Mommy, it hurts," he told me. I refused to lie about that either. I told Christopher that he may indeed have to get that test done. I wasn't sure, we would just have to wait to see what the doctor said. "I won't let her do it, Mommy," Christopher informed me. Oh oh. Prelude to what was coming. Just great.

"Sweetheart, the doctor doesn't like giving you the test any more than you like having it, but if she feels you must have the test please cooperate because she is only trying to make sure that you are healthy," I tried the logical approach.

"I'm fine Mommy. I don't need that test. I don't have Strep, I know," Christopher informed me.

"You don't know whether you have it or not, and if you do have it, we need to make sure you get the proper medicine," says Mommy, hopeful that this will be effective in driving off any dissent.

"I do too know," Christopher responds. "Remember I had it before? The thing in my throat hurts way more than Strep does. Even if I have Strep, it's ok," he assures me. Ahhh, the logic of a five year old. It almost makes sense. The thought of not having to fight him is alluring.

"Sweetheart, you don't know if you have Strep, and if you do and it doesn't get treated you could get very very sick. Remember how Mommy was in the hospital this summer because of her leg? That was Strep. And Grandpa's eye? That was Strep too." The gloves have come off. Now I am resorting to a combination of logic and fear to gain cooperation. Dirty trick.

"Well, I don't want the thing in my throat," Christopher says petulantly.

"Well, let's just get to the doctor and see what they have to say, okay?" I postpone this argument, reasonably assuming that it may be an unnecessary fight. Until we have more information, getting all worked up doesn't make a lot of sense.

Well, our doctor is not in on Wednesdays. It's Wednesday, so we will be seeing another pediatrician in the practice. Great. She is nice, but not our pediatrician. How will this go? I wait to see. The nurse meets us in the stairwell because they don't want children with rashes waiting in the waiting room with the other sick children. We are brought the back way to our exam room to wait, and to explain to the nurse what has been going on.

The doctor finally joins us while I am reading "Green Eggs and Ham" to the boys. She is a petite woman with an Italian or Greek look about her. She smiles and is very nice to the boys, chatting and getting them to chat about themselves. She takes Christopher's temperature, looks in his ears, eyes and throat, and takes a peek at the rash that is covering his body.

She tells me that she thinks he has Fifth's Disease, which is a fairly benign viral infection that will last about 6 weeks. I breathe a sigh of relief as this will mean that it's not Strep and he won't need "The Test."

Then she lowers the boom. "Just to be sure though, I think we should do a Strep test since the two rashes look very similar," she says. Right. Great. Try to act casual. Then it happens. The Question.

"Do I have to have the thing in the back of my throat?" Christopher asks. He is told, rather nicely, that yes, he does have to have the throat culture. "But why? I don't want to. It hurts."

The doctor does her best to explain to a five year old that it is important to make sure it isn't Strep. "If it is and we don't treat it, you could get VERY sick," she says, pulling out the specimen collection instruments (ie: the swabs and tongue depressor)

"But you said it wasn't Strep, didn't you?" Christopher tries to argue.

Our friendly doctor tries patiently to explain that Fifth's Disease and Strep look very similar and she needs to be sure. This test is the only way to be sure. Christopher asks to see pictures of both diseases so he can see for himself how similar they look.

The doctor sighs, takes off her gloves and says she will be right back with the pictures. She returns in a few moments with a medical diagnosis book with illustrations. She flips through, trying to find the appropriately similar pictures.

She needn't have bothered in my mind, as even if it was the same exact model in each of the pictures, and the rash was on the same exact spot on the body, Christopher would never agree that they looked the same. This was not about logic at this point. I sigh. I know what is coming.

While she needn't have bothered, I am touched that she did go the extra mile. She is trying to gain his cooperation and confidence and is not content to just do things to him without his consent.

Regardless of her extra efforts, Christopher still will not consent to the test. I offer to hold him in my lap and he agrees at first, but will not allow the doctor to obtain the necessary sample. She asks me to hold on to his arms and head so he cannot resist. I do as she asks and the fight ensues. He bites down on the tongue depressor and will not allow her to get the swabs into his mouth.

"Christopher, I need you to cooperate or I will have to get the nurse," the doctor warns. "I don't want to have to do that, do you want me to?" she asks. Christopher of course does not want the nurse to come in as that implies force and he really does not want that. He says that he will cooperate, but I know that this is not earnest. We try it his way a few more times anyway, as I want to give him as much latitude to cooperate as possible, but in the end, he bites through two tongue depressors and just will not allow the test to be done.

The doctor summons the nurse. She instructs me to hold Christopher's feet down and the nurse is going to hold Christopher's hands over his head and they are going to pry his mouth open. Oh my gosh! I have never had to do this with any of my children. This feels awful. He needs this test, and that is the only reason I am doing this, but it feels so wrong.

He cries. I cry. He struggles against me. He says I am hurting him. He says if we will let go he will cooperate. I hold on. He struggles harder. The doctor says she has to get yet another depressor as he has bitten through a third and a fourth one. He sobs. I cry. The doctor finally pries his mouth open and gets the culture she needs. I can let go. Thank goodness. I let go and Christopher shoots me a look of such betrayal. We are both sweaty and he is angry with me. How could I let the doctor do this to him? I try to go to him and he tells me, "No. Leave me alone!" Those words were like arrows in my heart. I understand why he says them. He has a right to be angry. I give him his space. I try to turn so he doesn't see my tears.

The doctor tells me that she got what she needed to get. Good. Somehow that doesn't comfort me. I feel like I helped her to rape my son. I know, that sounds melodramatic. It probably is a bit over the top, but that is how I feel. I don't know if I should feel good about what I just did. Is he going to be scarred by what just happened? Is this going to be one of the random memories he carries with him for always? Is this going to form his impression of me in his mind? Is he going to be afraid of the doctor the next time we go? Will he be more inclined to cooperate or less?

What about Daniel, who witnessed the whole thing? What will he take away from this experience? Is this going to damage his impression of the doctor, or me? Will he be afraid to go now? I suppose only time will tell.

So once we left the doctor's office, it was off to the golden arches. Yeah. I know. Food as a reward is not such a good idea. But the doctor said he would probably need a cold drink to soothe his throat as sometimes abrasions resulted from encounters such as what he had. I thought a chocolate shake might feel good on that throat. It might assauge my guilt too. Perhaps a Happy Meal toy would get his mind off the fact that I was a vile betrayer.

As Christopher and Daniel drank their shakes and played with their Bionicle men (the toy that came with the Happy Meal), I found myself thinking about what the doctor said as I left with the boys. She made a point to tell me that she had never found any five year old that could fight as hard or be as strong as my Christopher. I wasn't sure why she was telling me this. She said it to me as if she thought it might comfort me somehow. I don't know why either, but it did comfort me. To know that my son had not only the physical ability to fight, but the will to fight off what in his view was an injust assault did make me feel good. It meant that his sense of self as important was intact. That he cared about himself enough to struggle against what he viewed as evil forces. It makes me proud, even if I am the evil force he is struggling against.

So...as I wrap this up for tonight, I am mindful that I have not told you my five things that I am grateful for. So, here they are:

1.) I am grateful for doctors that are well educated about childhood illness
2.) I am grateful that I do not have to drive more than an hour to get to a good doctor
3.) I am grateful that I do not have to be put on a waiting list to see a doctor
4.) I am grateful that my children have a good relationship with their doctor most of the time
5.) I am grateful that my children have a strong enough sense of self to speak up for themselves to their doctor.

Take care of yourselves, and remember, I welcome input. Just be nice, I bruise easily.

Not As Good As I Once Was...

2008-12-20T01:50:00.007-05:00

Hey. You know what's weird? I'm not really a country music fan, but lately I have been stuck on Toby Keith. Personally, I know nothing about him really except I heard he and the Dixie Chicks hate each other. Oh well. The publicity machine at work is what I figure.

I like musicians, actors, comedians, and the like that do not take themselves too seriously. I think that is why I like Toby Keith. His "Wanna Talk About Me" video is a riot. I get a kick out of "I'm Not As Good As I Once Was" and "Beer for My Horses" makes me laugh too. I mean, Willie Nelson singing about bringing evil forces to justice? This guy has avoided paying his taxes for aeons from what I understand...and he has quite a drug business going on the side with the whacky weed. I suppose I don't really know those things as a fact. This is just what I have heard in the news. And we ALL know how truthful the news media is, right? (for those of you who may have missed it, that was sarcasm).

The "Not As Good As I Once Was" video I think is something I can sort of relate to...I mean, bars were never my scene, so I won't say that I got in barroom brawls or tried picking up twins or anything, but I'm almost forty. I am finding some things are starting to slide. I'm not as flexible as I once was. My memory kind of sucks, especially since my hospitalization last summer. My eyes are definitely a lot worse than they used to be. So, I guess I'm "Not As Good As I Once Was."

My how the years pass. I was never exactly "hell on wheels," but I could pull a mean all nighter in college with or without coffee. Now if I don't have that extra shot of espresso in my Dunkin Donuts latte, I'm out for the night around one thirty...or I make it through the night (a more likely scenario) only to not be able to function in the morning.

As I approach forty, I am surprised at how much it bothers me. I truly didn't think it would. I was never exactly the party type anyway. But it DOES bother me. I don't think I will try to hide my forty-ness though. I don't think as the greys come in that I will color them. I don't think I will try the various cremes and lotions designed to get rid of or hide the age spots, wrinkles and crows' feet. Maybe I am full of crap. Maybe at some point it will bother me enough to do it, but right now I feel like doing all that stuff is just trying to live in the past. The past, where I was unblemished (yeah right), beautiful (puh-leeze), and carefree (wait a minute, I need to wipe the tears from my eyes and stop laughing long enough to breathe).

As much as I didn't really like the change, I think I understand Mike Gorman. For those of you who don't know who Mike Gorman is, he is a sportscaster for the Boston Celtics. He often calls games with Tommy Heinsohn. Until a few years ago Mike had a gorgeous head of dark brown hair. He was actually kind of cute. All of a sudden one day he was on the broadcast completely gray. I was horrified. He looked like a death's head to me. His face was drawn and his hair was cropped short. I asked my husband, who keeps up on all things Celtics, if he knew why Mike had done this. He said that he had read somewhere that Mike had decided to stop coloring his hair. I made a comment to the effect that I thought this was a bad decision. Hubby just shrugged his shoulders and went back to watching the game.

Superficial of me, I know. Who really cares if Mike Gorman colors his hair? Well buster, I do. I think when I think back on it I probably care more than I should because, deep breath here, it makes ME feel older too. Remember, I told you I am a narcisist. All things relate back to me. How exactly does Mike failing to color his hair relate to me you ask? Because I have to look at him and be reminded that time marches on. Mike looked young for so long. Now he looks old. Which means that I definitely don't look the same as when I started watching Mike with Steve as a "fan-by-marriage" back in 1994. How dare Mike make me feel old by not coloring his hair? He did not submit the proper forms in triplicate to get clearance to point out that I am indeed aging. Now I have to think about my own age. I don't want to Mike, and you can't make me. But he has. His refusal to pray at the fountain of youth known as hair dye forces me to think about it. Thank goodness he didn't choose to wear a toupee.

The other reason I just can't bring myself to color my hair is that I am lazy. I just do not want to spend that much time preening. I don't want to have to do root touch ups. I get a haircut about once every 3-6 months. Not as often as I would like, and definitely not enough to hide any color line that would be created by my roots growing out. Every time I think of it I think of a comment my daughter made when she was about three. We were visiting my sister-in-law (since then she has divorced my brother and moved on) and Allison said, "Mommy, how does Colleen get her hair to look so pretty?" I asked her what she meant specifically since I wanted to answer specifically. She said, "You know, how does she get that pretty dark hair near her head when the rest of her hair is blonde?" Colleen shot me an ugly look, as you were not supposed to notice such things. I told my daughter that while she was admiring Colleen's hair, she should probably not mention to Aunt Colleen her dark hair as she wouldn't appreciate it.

My how the years pass. I haven't seen Colleen in about fifteen years. I have a niece that is in high school that I haven't seen since she was Christened. Isn't that terrible? I am a terrible aunt. My brother split up with her and that was that. I didn't have much of a relationship with her and now I have none. This was not how I thought it would be. I thought I would be a good aunt. But quite honestly, I suck. I don't keep up with the nieces and nephews as I should. I think of myself as "Scary Aunt Sheri," when it comes to them. I love them, but I am just not the fun type. If you need to see an example of what I mean, I'll give you one. A comparison is what I will show you. If you read an earlier post of mine about my brother Rob, you will see what I mean. Uncle Rob is cool. He is loved. He is fun. Aunt Sheri (Scary Aunt Sheri) is responsible. She takes care of meals. And she makes sure you follow the rules - if you call someone a butthead be sure that she will come down on you. That's just how it is.

Back in my prime I used to laugh at the word butthead. Nevermind disciplining you for saying it. Now I have to police my children's language. I am the purveyor of time outs, the sultan of sitting in the corner, the hander-outter of chores. I am the enforcer. I make sure to follow through. I insist that you finish your homework before you play videogames with your friends. I insure that your pull up is free from debris before you go out to the yard to play. I am the proverbial wet blanket. That's my life. And I won't color my hair to show how much more fun I am.

Before I sign off, I thought I would give you my five things that I am grateful for. So here they are in no particular order:

1.) My mother arrived in New England safely. She flew from Florida to visit for the holidays and is currently with her friend Linda in Maine.
2.) School was cancelled today. I got to play Scrabble with my kids and not feel quite like the drill sargeant I usually do.
3.) I got to work safely. I left two hours before I needed to be there and arrived an hour early. The snow was pretty intense, but nothing too terrible.
4.) I do NOT have diabetes. I finally took the blood test and the nurse reading the test results to me over the phone said that I am "well within the range of normal," for my blood sugar. Phew.
5.) My husband is working for a secure company and is not likely to be laid off. I won't say that he definitely won't be, you never know, but it seems unlikely. That means we can pay our mortgage so all is well. Another BIG phew!

Goodnight. Hope you found something interesting to read here tonight. Something that made you smile or at least something that you identified with. If not, sorry, but ultimately, this blog is for me.

My five things to be grateful for today

2008-12-18T00:09:00.004-05:00

1.) I am grateful that I can think.
2.) I am grateful that there is good music
3.) I am grateful that kids are resiliant
4.) I am grateful for good friends, both near and far
5.) I am grateful for coffee

An Unfunky Bible Thumper...meh

2008-12-17T22:56:00.004-05:00

Here I am again. I feel weird. I am starting a bible study. Not that I am some super Christian or anything. Far from it. I'm not even sure I am Christian at all. But I do want to explore my feelings about God and what he has to say in the Bible. I thought I would invite others into the discussion, maybe get some feedback.

See, I'm messed up about God. Ever since I had and lost my first child (I hate that term...I didn't lose him...I know where he is...he DIED and he is buried in Chelmsford, MA). I feel abandoned by God. I feel as though in my darkest hour he had nothing to say to me. That hurts so bad. Was I not worth bothering with?

Then I get to thinking about other things. Like my parents. God love them (hopefully) but they are truly messed up. I won't get into how and why as I feel that would invade their privacy - trying not to air the dirty laundry and all. Suffice it to say that I grew up feeling like a nuisance to my parents. An obligation. Not a joy. Not really.

Am I transferring my feelings about my parents onto God? If so, where does that leave me and Him? My husband often says that hate is not the opposite of love, apathy is. It's when you stop caring altogether that you are in trouble. Anger is still a relationship. So he says to be angry with God if I want to. So, I admit it. I am angry with God. Don't bother telling me that I have no right. I have every right. My emotions belong to me and I will do with them what I please. You don't have to listen or read if you don't want to, but don't try to tell me what to do with my emotions. And don't try to tell me my emotions are wrong. Emotions aren't right or wrong. They just are. So until I am not angry with God anymore, I am.

I have been pretty angry for the last eleven years. I think I have good reason to be. I did everything I possibly could to have a healthy baby. Everything. I feel like what happened was such a dirty trick. To give me such a beautiful baby and then take him back before I even had a chance to really enjoy him. If that isn't reason to be angry, I don't know what is. To spend nine months planning, nine months dreaming only to have it wiped out in a matter of hours. Within ten days it was like he was never even here. He was buried and gone.

Five things I am grateful for...

2008-12-17T00:26:00.003-05:00

Lest we forget so soon to do this...here are my five things:

1.) I am grateful that my in laws were able to go to their home as they wished to
While I was so glad to have them, I want them to be in their home when that is what they want
2.) I am grateful that we are done most of our Christmas shopping - we still have a little left and there has been a bit of sticker shock, but for the most part, things are done
3.) I am grateful for my bathrobe. It's a tad colder in here than I would like, so a warm fuzzy bathrobe is a good thing
4.) I am grateful for family that can roll with life's punches. I recently saw a sign that said, "Life is not about waiting out life's storms, it's about dancing in the rain," or something like that. I am soooo grateful that there are some members of my family who understand that
5.) I am grateful that I can write. Enuff said

There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

2008-12-16T23:09:00.010-05:00

Well howdy. Here I am again. It's been a few days, but I think you'll understand why in a minute (not that I have to explain - remember, blogging without obligation...this blog is for me, blah, blah, blah)

I live in the Northeast. If you have been paying any attention to the weather, you will know that we had an ice storm recently. A fairly difficult one. Not a major one...if you measure the length of time the storm raged, but there was enough storm to cause some serious damage. Both my brother who lives in New Hampshire, and my in-laws who live in Massachusetts (North of Boston) lost power and heat. They came down to camp out at our house until they got both back. That meant, with nephews, we had eleven people at our house for about four days.

You'd think it would be tough, but it wasn't really. It was actually kind of fun. I am tired, don't mistake that, but it was so nice to have them over. Let me explain. My mother and father in law are nice people. They are very good at live and let live. When they arrived at our home they were tired, cold and sick. They had spent the night in a cold and dark house. We had offered to go and get them, but they wanted (understandably) to try staying and waiting for things to come back on. They were also both quite sick and did not want to get our children sick. But when it became clear that the power would not be going back on any time soon, they relented and allowed us to bring them to our home.

We set them up in our room so they could have peace, and rest (if not exactly quiet with the kids running around). Gave them the remote to the tv, showed them how to work the electric blanket, and handed them drinks (our mantra, like many who are caring for the sick, is "Drink, drink, and drink. And oh yeah, drink."). We told them that they did not have to feel obligated to be social, and if they needed anything to let us know.

They chose to join us most of the time. They probably did not get the rest they should have due to the stomping around of the kids, but they were at least in a warm house. They never complained once. They just kind of rolled with whatever was happening. They are good at the "go with the flow," mentality. Even when they are not feeling their best. I have great respect and admiration for them. I aspire to be like them as I age...although I suspect I will be a tad more crotchety as I get older, due to various negative influences.

The other people in our home were equally endearing. My brother Rob, while sometimes a bit brash and rough around the edges, has a heart of gold. He believes in a live and let live way of life too. So much so that he and his bride have chosen to live in New Hampshire. Isn't that the slogan for those who reside in New Hampshire? He is a funny guy too. He brings a smile to my face every time I see him. He can be a real clown. My kids love him. He knows how to have fun with them.

He also has a nice way of bringing humor to discipline. Let me share an example. My boys are at a stage in their young lives where the word "butt" or any facsimile is funny. They call each other buttheads, bummies, butholes, tushies, fartheads and the like. They find it equally funny to talk about their penises, pee pee, poop, or anything even remotely related to that region of the body. I have tried nine ways to Sunday to eliminate this kind of talk (my mind is being drawn to the fact that yes, eliminate is another word to describe those functions...but grow up for crying out loud). There have been time outs, there have been spankings. There have been chores given. There has been on one occassion, soap on the tongue. The boys have been for periods of time forbidden to speak since they cannot use appropriate language. They have been told that they will NOT be allowed certain priviledges (tv, computer, etc.). All of these disciplines have failed.

My brother's solution? Wedgies to anyone who uses the forbidden words. And it works. The boys laugh, but they suffer the consequences and stop talking nasty for a while. I won't say it's perfect, but I love that he administers the discipline in a humorous way. It's just the kind of guy he is. He's great. Here's a picture of him:

Now, you might think that this is an unflattering picture of him. I would say you are very wrong. It is actually one of the best pictures of him anywhere because it captures his personality. He is a class clown. He is a very smart guy that I love very much, but he likes to make people laugh. And right here, he is mugging for the camera to make me laugh. And it worked.

He could have chosen to be a real downer while visiting. His power was out. His heat was out. And because he has an electric pump, his water was out. He could have had pipes freezing back home as we took this picture, but he wasn't being a pill. He was laughing and having a good time in spite of his circumstances.

I have a lot of respect for my brother. He has done so much with his life and he cares so much about his family. If he ever happens upon this blog I want him to read this and know that I think he IS the best thing since sliced bread.

I'm not sure if the respect is mutual. I haven't done much to earn his respect. I don't really know if he respects me. I don't really know if I should spend energy on that anyway. I just think he's great and hope to continue to develop a good relationship with him and his family.

His wife Jackie is a great gal too. Here is a picture of her:
Jackie is a neat lady. She loves Rob for just who he is. She is funny, kind, generous and a wonderful mother. She and Rob met in a bar a number of years ago (10 or 12, I'm not sure) and they were married in 2000. I am so glad he married her. She is one of the sweetest people you could meet. While she was down, she decided that she would clean my kitchen. You might think that some would take offense at the implication that my home is dirty, but I do not take it personally. I keep my home sanitary, but not up to the level of expectation of most "Better Homes and Gardens" magazines. I have children. I have a dog. I have a cat. I want to do more with my day than clean. Cleaning does not give me pleasure. It only reminds me that I am not clean enough and that it will need to be done again soon. But Jackie receives joy from cleaning apparently. She says that it makes her relax to clean her kitchen. So I say, relax baby. Feel free to relax as much as possible in my home. Me casa es su casa. We aim to please and if it so happens that my home is cleaner as a result, so much the better.

2008-12-11T22:58:00.005-05:00

I'm here again. I just finished walking around the mall with my friend Ellen. We both have decided that we need to be more physically active. It's hard to find time during the day to focus on this. Ellen has two children that are close in age to mine. She's running to activities and picking kids up from school just like I am. So we decided together that we would walk twice a week after dinner. Hopefully, combined with the weight lifting that I am doing with my husband on three other nights during the week I will get a tad healthier and avoid the insulin.

Yeah, insulin. My doctor just told me that I am close to being diabetic. I am supposed to get a blood test to find out how close exactly, but my doctor is about an hour from me and I have to fast before I have the test. It's a bit of a pain in the ass to go hungry long enough to get there and have the blood drawn. I have to make sure that I get back in time to get my son on the bus too. I am thinking of going tomorrow, but I am trying to take care of a few things so we can go away for the weekend. I have laundry to do, a dog to bring to a kennel.

Yeah, I know, excuses excuses. Just take the frackin blood test you say. I know. But I really don't want to know if I am diabetic or not. I want the whole damn thing to go away. Once I know then I will feel obligated to do something. And once I feel obligated to do something about it, the less I will want to. I'll be the petulant child stuffing candy bars down my throat to defy those who tell me I shouldn't be doing that. And I so don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear from those who care that I need to exercise more, eat less and more healthy. I know all these things. Telling me will not be a revelatory experience. Show me how to coral my emotions and my immature personality into obeying, then I will respect what you have to say about my health.

The other thing is that I really don't want to be here anyway. I know that is a horrible thing to say, but I don't. I am here because my life does not belong to me. I have responsibilities. I have obligations. One responsibility after another. And I am NOT referring to only my children here. I have a responsibility to my husband, who has stuck with me through thick and thin. Whether I am happy in my life or not, I can't just bail on him. He is a good man. He is a good person. He has been an incredible friend. What kind of friend would I be if I just bailed on him? What would I be leaving him with?

So. It's out there. I'm not happy. I know it, now what? As I think I have said in previous posts, I have no idea what I want, so I cannot figure out what will make me happy. I detest when people constantly whine about being unhappy and refuse to do what they need to in order to be happy. I would be in that position...whining and not doing...if I knew what I wanted. I don't. Believe me, when I know what I want, I jump. Figuring out what I want is always the problem with me. It's exhausting trying to figure that out.

My friend Ellen and I were walking in the mall as I said earlier. She and I have several things in common, one of which is that we both don't want to be in the position of not having something else going on for ourselves besides raising our children. I was telling her how scared I am of not developing as a person, of being only a mom, and not a very good one at that. I was talking to her about how I feel so negative lately and can't really seem to pull myself out of it. It drives me nuts, but there it is. She suggested that I keep a journal of things that I am grateful for. I think I might try it. At this point I am willing to try anything. So here goes:

1.) I am grateful for my children. They make me laugh. They make me angry. They surprise me. They make me feel alive.

2.) I am grateful for the husband I have. He is a warm, kind, strong person. He is funny and sensitive. He is sexy and intelligent.

3.) I love my dog. He is fuzzy and loyal. He licks me constantly - I have no idea why - is he kissing me, cleaning me or tasting me?

4.) I am grateful for my in-laws. They are good people who genuinely care about me and mine.

5.) I am grateful for the fact that I live in New England. I love the change of seasons. I think it is a direct demonstration of God's complexity.

There. That's all for now with the thankful journal. There are things that are not included. As I wrote each one I could feel the other things that I didn't write biting my neck, saying, "What about me?" Some I am saving for another time. Some are just biting at my neck because I am conditioned to think I should feel grateful for them even though I do not.

Something I am trying to be grateful for - the fact that I am frail and human. I am not perfect. My faith, Christianity, says that I shouldn't feel I have to be. We already have someone filling that role thank you very much. But the ways I am shown that I am not perfect really hurt. They are shameful.

I told my nine-year old daughter that she was a selfish, self-centered witch. As soon as it was out of my mouth I couldn't believe I said it. What the hell is wrong with me? First of all, has it EVER been appropriate to make a personal attack to get someone to do something you want them to do? I can't even begin to understand why I said it. I was so angry. I have NEVER spoken to my husband (or anyone else for that matter) the way I spoke to her. Why did I do that?

What makes it worse is that she was sharing with me her aggravation about some classmates and some things they were doing. I happened to think that she did something to provoke them. Based on what she herself said I thought she should perhaps own up to at least some of the wrongdoing. Well, she wanted nothing to do with it. I tried to be the objective listener. Maybe I should have kept my opinion to myself. But I asked her if she wanted my input. She said yes, and then she was kind of rude and condescending to me. It set me off.

Not an excuse mind you. Just an explanation of events that led up to the explosion. I don't even now understand why I reacted that way. But I understand what a nasty horrible thing I said. I did apologize to her for saying the things I said, but that doesn't make up for it in my humble opinion. The damage is already done. I can't take it back.

Do I think she will want to share with me again about something like that? Nope. I probably slammed that door shut. Maybe to never open again. It hurts my heart that I screwed up so royally. It eats at me. What eats at me even more is that she is probably carrying that with her too. How do I make her feel better? How do I make sure that she doesn't really believe what I said in those few stupid seconds? I mean, what your parents say to you means a lot. I abused my power over her. I cannot believe I did it. Oh my God I am soooooooo sorry. But I don't think that being sorry will fix it.

I can't even write anymore I am so upset. If you haven't decided that I am a total ass hat, come back later and maybe I will have posted again. I can't write right now. I am too ashamed.

2008-12-10T23:58:00.008-05:00

So here I am. I'm exhausted. Sore. Grumpy. I should probably just throw the towel in and go to bed. So why aren't I? Well, I am angry. I need to vent. And I need to blog. I have to walk a line here and I don't know quite how to walk it. On the one hand, this blog is for me. I make no apologies for what is here and I don't intend to begin. I want to try to be honest. But I struggle with the whole privacy thing too. Just because I open myself up to the blogging world, it doesn't mean that those who I love have agreed to this. I want to talk about things...vent...so I can cope more appropriately in my daily life. But I don't want to air my dirty laundry in public. Those that I love do sometimes irk me. And one thing I have begun to recognize is that sometimes the reasons they irk me have nothing really to do with them. It has more to do with the fact that I am a bit of a jerk. I want things the way I want them and I don't want to have to TELL you that I want them that way. You should just know. After all, you read my mind, right? Again, I told you that I am a narcissist.

I say this in half-jest. But the other half is saying it in complete truth. Sometimes I think I am developmentally delayed. I think "arrested development" fits sometimes. I never truly left that phase of childhood where I believed that others were the same as me. They had to know what I was thinking because they are me. If I want ice-cream they should too. My reality is the reality don't you know.

I went Christmas shopping tonight. With my kids. It sounds like it should be fun. The lights at the mall. The Christmas music in the air. The noticeably empty stores on a Wednesday night. We took care of shopping for three relatives. The kids behaved admirably. But I didn't have fun. I found myself sore, tired and aggravated, which is how I feel most of the time lately. Aggravated I mean. My kids didn't do anything wrong. Really. They were well behaved, save for a few "Please Mommy, can we get..." and those were very few. Why am I so aggravated? I have no real idea. I feel selfish and juvenile, but I want someone to be shopping for me.

So, yeah, here I am whining again. Get over it you say? Okay I say, I will try. Let me start by telling you about my kids. They are great. My daughter Allison,
is beautiful. She's a smart girl, and I can prove it too. She has straight A's this semester. Three of them are A+'s. I know, I'm bragging, but I think the world should know what an awesome person she is. She's creative, funny, talented and kind. Allison is a free spirit. She likes to make her own way in the world. I think that will mean a lot of mistakes as she grows, and truly, I am hoping that I will let her make those mistakes. I hope that I can balance my desire to protect her from the world with my understanding that she needs to experience it in order to learn to make good choices. She is learning. She does learn. She makes me proud. I don't really think she knows it though. Sure, I tell her, but I also let her know when I think she is doing wrong. In no uncertain terms. You know how it is. You tend to remember the negative more than the positive. I think she feels criticized. Which makes me sad because that was never what I wanted to convey. She makes me feel as though I made a good choice to become a parent. As she grows up I am finding that we spend less time together. She is making friends, getting homework and finding ways to entertain herself. Often when we go to relatives' homes she find herself in her little brothers' shadows. It's hard being older sometimes. Everyone ooohing and aahhhing over the little guys and no one really making space for you.

Don't get me wrong. The relatives don't ignore her. They say hello and ask her about how she's doing. My mother-in-law and father-in-law probably do the most to make sure she is valued for herself. They work on little projects with her, they pick out books from the town library book sale for her. They're great. It's just that her brothers are just at ages that require more maintenance. She is more self-sufficient. She's not the squeaky wheel, so she doesn't get the grease. Hopefully she will see soon that it's only temporary. As her brothers get older and aren't quite the handful that they are now, she will get more attention.

Here's my middle guy, Christopher. He's the sweetest five year old you would ever want to know. I'm saying that because I think he really is. Not just because he's mine. He's thoughtful, oh my gosh he makes me want to hold him close and cry because he's more thoughtful than I EVER remember being at his age. He offered to give up his karate classes because he heard that we were having to tighten our belts financially. He loves his karate classes, so for him to offer this is huge.

Let me give you another example of his sweetness. We have toy jail. I will explain this so you will appreciate what Christopher did. In my home, we are clutter freaks. I am a terrible housekeeper. There I said it. Well, I am hoping that my kids will learn better habits than me, so I try to keep the clutter to a dull wave as much as possible. Toy jail was instituted to try to stem the tide of stuff that accumulates in our home. There are so many papers from school, McDonald's toys, gifts from Christmas and birthdays, and clothes...things were EVERYWHERE for a bit. My children are free to leave stuff around their rooms, and even in the playroom downstairs if they so choose. The first floor, however, is off limits. By the end of the day, they are required to go around and pick up anything that they have left on this floor. This is the floor with the kitchen, the dining and living rooms. It also has my husband and I's bedroom, but that is off limits for their stuff anyway. If their stuff is not put away by the end of the day it goes to toy jail. Toy jail is a box on the porch. A big, rubbermaid box. Where it stays until they do a chore to get the desired item out of jail. If they don't do the chores to get the items out then I donate the items to charity. I figure if it sits in there a month it can't be that important to them anyway, right?

So where does Christopher's sweetness play a role in toy jail you ask? Well, about two weeks ago he asked if he could do some chores to get stuff out of toy jail. I said, "Sure." I gave him some Clorox wipes and told him to wipe off all the smudges that were on the cabinets. He spent about two hours wiping the smudges off. When all was said and done he got down and got his sister's stuff out of toy jail. Tell me that isn't sweet. No one had said or even suggested that he do this. He's such a good boy.

He's also very coordinated. He was walking at nine months old. He can climb anything. I never had to worry about him falling down off equipment on the playground. He just didn't do that. He runs, he climbs, he jumps. He's already riding his bike without training wheels. I think he's going to be my all-star boy. He's good at sports and people seem to like him. He's a great kid.

Another great kid? My son Daniel. This is him: isn't he cute? I know, I'm bragging again. Sorry, but this blog is for me remember. I can brag if I want to. And if you can't brag about your kids, who can you brag about? Daniel is three. He is more like my side of the family than either of the other two. How you ask? He will bite off his nose to spite his face. He will challenge you in ways that the other two would never dream of. He cannot be swayed from his opinion. He wants what he wants and oh my gosh...his temper. Definitely a Lallas thing (my maiden name). He is very independent. He is content to play by himself and not worried about what anyone thinks. Not a conformist in any way. You can get him to cooperate, but only with reverse psychology. Otherwise it comes to fisticuffs, verbal threats of bedtime or time out...or spankings.

He makes my heart melt though. He tells me that I am beautiful and that he is going to grow flowers for me. He tries to ice my boo boos (I was hospitalized over the summer for a problem in my leg). He loves to cuddle. He loves to talk and walk. It broke my heart to take him out of preschool. We just couldn't afford it. He's a year early anyway, but he was getting so much out of it.

Who knew that when he made his entrance he would make such an impression? He fell out. Literally. Oh yeah. Broke the umbilical cord in two places and banged his head on the floor. That was his introduction to life outside the womb. They actually put in a new rule at the hospital after he was born to prevent it from happening again. A trail blazer from the start. Had to do things his own way.

Exhibitionism

2008-12-08T23:28:00.002-05:00

So I just finished working out with my husband. Lately, we have been adjourning to the basement after dinner and kids go to bed to lift weights. After we lift weights, we either use our Wii Fit, or belly dance. Yeah. Belly dance. It's kind of neat. I wish I could be less self-conscious about it. Why self-conscious you say? Well...I don't exactly have a dancer's body. Plenty of belly though. We started doing this as a way of trying something new. It could be fun if I stop feeling as if someone is watching us.

That's another product of being who I am. I always feel like I am being watched. People think I am this good girl. But it really isn't that I am that good. It's just that I know that if I do something wrong it will be when someone is watching. I have managed to avoid situations that might cause me to compromise myself. I wouldn't want anyone to see that. It's an awful feeling to think you are unnoticed and to find out that you are wrong.

When I was in high school I was seeing this guy. He was a nice guy. But apparently had no sense of privacy or boundaries. I was crying and sharing something deeply personal with him. I thought I was sharing a deep and personal fear with only him. I had my back to him because I was ashamed of what I was sharing. Well, unbeknownst to me, several of my friends and acquaintences had been quietly stepping into the room. They had silently listened to me pour out my heart. I had been sobbing and saying things that I only wanted my boyfriend to hear. I turned around and there they were. I was horrified. I was embarrassed. I was humiliated and ashamed. And I'm discovering over twenty years later that I was and am angry. Why would someone do that? Why would you allow others to hear private confessions that are being confided in you and you alone?

That was many years ago, but the lesson it taught me was to never say things out loud that you wouldn't want repeated in front of a large studio audience. So, for the most part, I don't. By blogging, I am in fact creating a large studio audience. I hope I am always honest with my audience, but I cannot promise that. If something feels ingenuine to you, just know that it probably comes from fear of what may be thought of me if I share what I really think.

Yeah...back to the narcissism that is rampant in my personality. Who the hell cares what I really think anyway? It's not like I am some big celebrity or star or something. But to lay yourself bare is an act of trust or exhibitionism...or both. Maybe someone will care and have something to say. But maybe they won't. Maybe this will just allow me to sharpen my writing skills. If so, so be it.

I thought I would share with you another reason I am blogging. My daughter. She asked me a few weeks ago, "Mommy, what would you like to be?" When I said, "I am what I would like to be honey, your mommy," she replied, "No, I mean besides that. What would you want to do if you didn't have children to raise?" It made me very aware of the fact that she is watching. She is evaluating both me and her place in the world. I have a responsibility as her mother to be a good example. To be a good example I cannot simply be her mom. She needs to see that I am more than that. My existence is separate from her. She needs to see that I will continue to exist when she no longer needs or wants me, even if that lack of need or desire is temporary. She has to see that she is not responsible for defining me.

What's hard about that is that she and her brothers do define me. That may be wrong. Everyone I speak to says that is wrong. I should have a career separate from raising my children. I have seen first hand what happens when you don't. My mother has spent her life defining herself as a wife and a mother. People can say what they want to about whether she has done it well or not, but wife and mother are the parameters she has set to live her life within. At times while I was growing up I could see that she deeply resented those parameters. She wanted more, but she grew up during an era where you were not supposed to want more if you were a woman. You weren't much of a woman if you couldn't find a man and keep a man. Having children was a given. I truly believe that if she had been born in another era she would not have had children. She will probably be furious with me if she ever reads this, but I think if she is honest with herself she will see that she personally never really wanted children. That is not a judgement of her as a mother so much as a statement of fact.

Her resentment came through a good portion of the time me and my siblings were growing up. She had skills and talents that were not being tapped. They couldn't be. She had children to raise and a husband to please. Her interests were okay if they brought extra support and stability to the family, but she never really was able to delight in things simply because she liked them.

I am planning to not make that mistake. It's hard though. My children need me. I want them to need me. While I am trying to teach them some independence, it hurts every time they say they don't need me for something. I tend to take it more personally though when I don't have other things going on in my own life for my own sake.

That's what writing is about. I write for me. So I have something that is mine. Maybe someday I will be published. That is a fervent wish, but I won't stop writing if nothing ever gets published. I don't even really know what sort of things I would write would get published. I suppose I could say that I am already published. I was a reporter for the Beverly Times while I was in college. They published several of my articles. But, my inner editor says, people weren't running to buy the Beverly Times because your article was in there. My answer? So what. I still got published.

Maybe my book will get finished and published. Yeah. I am writing a book. Currently, I have turned down the creative fires down to low and am letting the proverbial pot simmer, but I am still working on a book. Maybe I will never finish it. I think I will, but who knows? I participated in Nanowrimo this year (check out www.nanowrimo.org if you don't know what I am talking about) and I have a good head start on a book now.

While I am talking about this book, I want to thank my brother in law. He will probably never read my blog, but he should be thanked. He was a huge encouragement to me during Nanowrimo. He signed up as well so he could sort of bite at my heels. I need that at times. Especially when I am afraid. And I am afraid to write. Why? Well, because, like that boyfriend of so long ago, I fear that while I am pouring out my heart, an audience will slip in unannounced and listen. I am afraid that I may say something that reveals who I am really to this audience and that they may be unfriendly. But that's the creative process, isn't it? Isn't the creative process supposed to be revelatory? Indicative of our human frailties? Of mine?

So, I remind you that I welcome your input. But remember, I bruise easily, so be nice.

2008-12-08T02:51:00.005-05:00

So here I am...at 2:51am...awake. This probably means that when my daughter gets up to get ready for school, I will be exhausted, but, such is my life. I tried the whole deep breathing thing and trying to not think about needing to sleep, but no go. So I have given in and decided that I am up for the nonce. If you're up late too I feel your pain. Particularly if you are going to need to be up and alert soon.

By nature I am a night owl, so being awake right now doesn't really feel too bad. But I will pay for it later. I will try to make sure no one else pays, but to be honest, they probably will. Because, remember, I'm a narcissist. It IS all about me. I'd like to say I was different, that I would be the archetypical mother figure arising early and making life oh-so-much sweeter for those around her by her early rising, but I'm not a liar. I'll probably be grouchy. I'll try not to be too grouchy. But I probably will be grouchy. I hate being awake in the morning. 95% of the world seems to think its important to do so, so I guess I have to jump on the conformity wagon like it or not, but if asked, I will tell you that I hate being awake in the morning. The early bird gets the worm? Well, I have no interest in worms. I'll let my cat out to get the early bird so it will shut up and I can get some more sleep.

I have so much to do. I wish I could do it at night without disturbing anyone. I'm more productive then anyway. But I would keep people awake. Little people that would make it hard for me to accomplish what I was staying up to accomplish. Bless their hearts but they find new and interesting ways to be underfoot. But enough whining.

What do I have to do you ask? I have Christmas decorations to take out and place. I have decided to set up the Christmas Village scene that was given to me by my son's ex-preschool teacher. It's going to be set up on the porch. I hope that will be alright since we have no porch door at the moment. Why is that? You may wonder. Well, I don't know for sure, but I have seen my five year old riding the door on a couple of occassions like a pony. He grabs the doorlatch and hangs from it and swings. I didn't specifically see him break it, so I can't blame him directly. I'm willing to bet that he did that on more than one occassion though and I am positive that the door manufacturers did not have that particular use in mind when they produced this particular screen door. So the door fell off right before Halloween and we haven't replaced it yet. Hopefully the weather won't be so wild that I can't place the decorations out though.

It snowed today. My kids went out to play in it. I was asleep and missed it. I did get to see my daughter and son catching snowflakes on their tongues. I wanted to capture the moment on film, but they stopped doing it while I was getting the camera. Grrrr...just the way it always goes.

What else do I have to do? Well...let's see. I should probably go grocery shopping. We currently have very little to eat for breakfast. That probably means I will stay up after blogging and make pancake batter so my daughter can have breakfast. I also need to put away laundry. Yeah, I know, exciting, but remember, I live a very unfunky life. I also would like to make fudge for the neighbors. Yeah. Fudge. It's kind of my thing around Christmas. I like to experiment with making different kinds of fudge. Then I give the results to the neighbors. They think I am being neighborly, when truth be told I am avoiding putting on about 600 pounds of pure chocolate. Sure, I want them to enjoy the fudge...but more importantly, I do NOT want ME to enjoy the fudge. I just like to make it. If it also creates a better neighborhood, so much the better.

I also have to wrap Christmas presents. I don't want things to go like they usually go with gift wrapping. Hubby and I usually wait until Christmas Eve and then wrap all of the gifts. We are usually up until about 3 am Christmas Eve. Not such a good way to do things, but it is very hard to find time alone to wrap gifts. The kids are usually around trying to see what I am up to. I have managed to buy gifts online this year and many are hidden around the house. Even hubby's. But I can't seem to find a good time to wrap them.

I also need to set up the office upstairs. We just got a second computer. We got it because I am going to telecommute for work. I need there to be a quiet place to do that where background noise is eliminated. Setting up the office is going to be a job. I have to get all the stuff that is currently in there out, some of which is my daughters (grrr...more on her some other time) and some of which is stuff we want in there. But I gotta figure out how to set upstairs up so I can work. Plus I am hoping it will be a space where I can write and the kids will not be able to mess around with the computer. They have one set up in the dining room that they can use. This one will be for adults only. Period.

I need to put the boxes of Halloween decorations up in the loft. Yeah, I know, Halloween was about a month and a half ago. Blah blah blah. Don't whine at me about how I should have already taken care of it. I know. But as soon as I start to bring stuff up to the loft, Christopher, my five year old, bless his heart, wants to help and I do NOT want him up there. Christmas central is up there (maybe he knows that...and that is why this five year old wants to help you say? Not likely. He's a sweet kid. He just wants to help). So the Halloween stuff is on my porch. In a box. Ready to go.

Another thing I need to do? I need to buy curtains. They'd probably cut down on our heating costs. But they cost money. I'm trying to avoid spending money right now. Except on Christmas. I want my kids to enjoy their Christmas. But it occurs to me that maybe they would enjoy their Christmas even more if we weren't stressed out about money...maybe I should just put up the frackin curtains.

I've got to answer the homeschooling question soon too. It seems that hubby is willing to be experimental with the preschooler's education. Let's try with him first he says. Then we'll see about the others. so I have to decide which curriculum to go with. I think I may have found what I am looking for, but I would like to learn a little more before making a final decision. I have a couple of friends who are home schooling and I've shot them emails to see what they are doing and what their experiences have been. I've also asked them to outline the pros and cons of homeschooling as they see it. We'll see what comes back.

I'm not sure if I am the person to do the homeschooling thing, but I feel at this point I have to at least try it. I don't know if I am disciplined enough. But maybe I could be. I'd love to give my kids this creative, love of learning experience that opens doors for them. I hope that I can think "outside the box" (God I hate that term...mostly because it has become "a phrase" that people use but don't really mean).

Well, I have more to say, but I'm running out of steam, so I think I'll sign off for now. I have to go make pancakes for my daughter. Hopefully. If I don't hear that friggin early bird.

Really?

2008-12-07T15:04:00.003-05:00

Okay guys, so here's my bitch session. I love Steve and he's a great guy and WONDERFUL father, but he seems to have this issue with me going to sleep when I come home from an 11-7 shift. He finds any excuse to wake me up. I'm trying not to lose my temper, but I'm coming close to clubbing him like a baby seal.

He wakes me up today because my daughter's friend called to find out if she could come over. He felt I needed to call Brooke's mom to discuss. WHY? Can he not decide whether or not she can go over without me? His explanation was that we needed to go pick out decorations as a family for our lawn and I needed to work out with Brooke's mom how Allison could (if she wanted to go) go over around those plans, and IF she could go.

Now I'm kind of tired, so perhaps I am not seeing what the complication is here. But I really felt this was something he could have fielded on his own. Did he really need to wake me up for it? Really? I'm trying not to bite his head off, but I have to have my act together for the kids tomorrow, and if I don't want to be a real grouch, I need my 8 hours. Can't he understand that? Is it too much to ask to ask him to figure that out? Or am I just being a jerk and need to suck it up so we can do our family holiday stuff?

This morning when I first came home he and Christopher were spread-eagled across the bed. I lay down on the couch so I didn't have to disturb them. He wakes me up because Christopher peed on our bed. He said he needed help changing the sheets. Really? He couldn't handle changing the sheets so I could sleep? I was exhausted.

Gotta go...he's home and I want to try to sleep before he decides I have to do something else.

Home Schooling?

2008-12-07T03:00:00.004-05:00

Here's something that I want to discuss: Home Schooling vs. Public Education. I'm embedding (hopefully) a video about homeschooling here. I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback.

Watch CBS Videos Online

I'd like to home school. I'm not sure if I should or not. But here's what I see as a benefit. My kids would have a teacher who had their best interests at heart and didn't have to make the curriculum fit 30+ students. My daughter's teacher, for instance, is doing a fabulous job in my humble opinion, but she has several other students to teach. She is faced with teaching to an audience that has varying levels of capability. She herself told us that Allison could skip fourth grade altogether and she would do fine. So are we holding Allison back by just letting her be part of the system?

My husband says he thinks she gets something valuable from attending public school. He thinks she needs the interaction with others. She needs to learn to cope with frustrating situations, different people, and being away from Mom. I can see his point. But...

I don't know if the worries about socialization are valid or not. It seems like there are plenty of ways to socialize. Extra-curricular activities. Play dates. Volunteerism. These are all ways she and my boys could be getting the extra socialization that they need.

But I worry. About me. I'm not a cheery person all the time. Maybe I would be more of a cheery person if I felt that they were getting more of what they needed from their education. But maybe not. My mother in law has talked with me about home schooling and she has said she worries about the amount of time it would consume. Bless her heart I know she has my best interests at heart, but my children are my life and I couldn't think of a more valuable thing to do with my time.

The other comment my husband has made is about our lack of organization in general. He doesn't have much faith in our ability to keep organized enough to stay on track with our children's education. Now, I will admit it, I am a terrible housekeeper...but I don't think that necessarily equals a disaster for our children's education. Some very creative people are not the most organized. Besides, I've always been more organized about my work life than I am about my home life. Maybe that would translate onto the educational scene.

I'd be very interested in your feedback. If you know me personally, feel free to comment about what you know about me personally as it relates to my ability to educate my children.

So What Exactly Am I Going to Talk About?

2008-12-07T00:16:00.000-05:00

Heh.

Here I am again, as I said I would be. If things aren't too busy here at work I will be able to write. I've been thinking as I took a shower, got ready and drove in to work that I should probably be a bit more focused about how I write. I seem to follow several different threads at once.

I guess I haven't exactly decided the purpose of this blog. I mean, I suppose I could say its a sort of online journal and leave it at that. If that is the case, than I suppose I don't owe it to anyone to have any sort of organization. But if that is all it is, then why not just keep a journal and be done with it? The purpose of a blog, I think, is that others can read it too. Perhaps in reading it they can identify with your experience and you will feel less alone in the world (or they will).

I think that while that is true and I will make an effort to have some train of thought that is intellible here, I make no promises. Why? Because I am hoping that I can write some of the darkness out of myself. This is sort of my poor man's therapy I guess you'd say.

That being the case, I will try not to be too whiny. But I don't promise. My best writing tends to come when I am writing for myself. If you don't like what you are reading, you are free not to read. I promise I won't be insulted. You can even tell me that is why you are no longer reading. That is okay too. But I wouldn't mind it if you told me when what I write touches you in some way, if it does. Because I think I am searching for relevance. If someone tells me that what I said meant something to them or helped them in some way, that is the highest compliment I can receive.

So yes, this blog is a tad narcissistic. I will put that right up front. But I hope it can help others too. So I will try to address a couple of things in an orderly fashion. The other thing I will get right up front is that I tend to think of life and my experiences in relation to quotes from music, movies, books I've read. If this annoys you, I am sorry. All I can say in response is that I am writing for me. Maybe in my life outside of the blog I am more giving, more thoughtful and such, but this is for me. I will not try to annoy, hurt or insult anyone intentionally, but if you are anyways, just know that I am really sorry, but for whatever reasons I have, I felt the need to say whatever I said.

So, with that out of the way, what precisely am I writing about? Well...let's see. I plan to write about a number of things. I thought about that while I was driving. I thought that maybe a stream of consciousness kind of bl0g might be interesting. But then, there are many things that I write about and think about that may not interest you. So I will try to list what I plan to write about. Just remember the first rule: the blog is for me. I hope you enjoy what I write, but I may wander off topic at times.

Here's my list of things that I think I will write about:
1.) My search for meaning - yeah...trite I know, especially when I say it like that, but that's what it boils down to. I often feel like WTF? Why are we here? What specifically is important about my existence? There are many attitudes that I try to adopt while I am riding this piece of rock we call earth, hopefully some of them are useful and have integrity, but why EXACTLY am I here? Aren't there enough people here? Did I really need to exist? If not, why do I? If I did need to exist, then what precisely am I here to do?
2.) My family. Whacky. Beautiful. Flawed. Imperfect. Yeah, like everyone else on the planet, I have a family. Like most people that will really admit the truth, my family is as far from Walton Mountain as you can get. They annoy me. They make me laugh. I cheer for them. Sometimes I want to throttle them. But their mine all mine. And I'm stuck with them. And they're stuck with me. I hope if any of the members of my family read any of what I write, they will understand that I write stuff here out of love and a hope to learn to cope. Perhaps I will add to the family drama (God I hope not...I HATE drama), but hopefully I will add to the richness and they will understand how deeply I love them even though I don't always love their behaviors. Before they have a chance to say anything about my flaws I want them to know that I am fully aware of them. I have many. Too many to list here. But I am still going to bitch about them sometimes.
3.) Issues from the past. I have trouble letting go of stuff. Maybe by writing about it I will learn to let go. I bruise easily, and when I do, I withdraw. Partly to lick my wounds, but mostly because I often don't understand why I'm on the outside again. I often feel like an outsider. Like there was this bright circle of light etched around certain people. These people appear happy, fulfilled and carefree. They seem to have doors opened for them, they win lotteries, get good jobs and take fun vacations. It seems effortless. Which would be fine, I wish them well, but I must say I feel that I was not given the golden key or something. Maybe I was absent the day they handed the golden keys out. And no one will tell me where I sign up for one.
4.) Religion and politics. Yeah. I have views. I don't feel the need to share them everywhere with everyone, but I do have them. Some of the people in my life have heard some of my thoughts, but usually I try to be sensitive to what others might think. I especially try to remember that there are opposing views. But I may not necessarily do that here. I might...but mostly to try to hash it out. If you want to comment about what I say, by all means, do so. Just don't flame me. For those of you who don't know what flaming is, it's when YOU WRITE IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS TO INDICATE YOU ARE YELLING. This won't help. It won't change my views either. I can agree to disagree with you...and you are free to disagree with me. I hope you agree with at least SOME of what I say, but if you don't that's okay too. If you hate discussing religion and/or politics, feel free to skip over this stuff and say nothing. I won't tell. I promise.
5.) Stuff my kids or pets do. I love my children and my pets. I wish I could have more of both, but it seems my life is not working out to be a free wheeling, kid full, animal full existence. I have five children as I said in an earlier post, but only three of them have survived me. My first, Thomas, which I am sure I will write about in this blog, died from a congenital heart defect. My last was a miscarriage. Probably because I suffered a catastrophic illness this passed summer and my body was just not ready for a pregnancy. I have been blessed with three children in between these two tragedies. They are smart, beautiful, funny, needy, creative beings. I love them with all my heart and soul and can only hope that I am doing the job I need to as parent well. I will from time to time talk about frustrations I have with them here, doubts, fears, and triumphs that they have. If you are "one of those" who feel that we breeders are idiots for not maintaining a zero population growth, just know that my children are insurance against suicide. That probably sounds harsh, but they are. I love them and would never want them to feel abandoned or rejected. So I have to stay. Maybe while I am staying I will figure out why I am supposed to be here. See? I am really narcisstic. I told you.

So now that I have that list out of the way, what shall we discuss tonight (or today as the case may be...it IS after all, 1:20am)?

One topic that is on my mind is the idea of being able to let go. I don't really know how to you see. I hang on to things F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Want an example? I'll give you one. I had this friend in junior high (I told you that I hold onto things). We were very close. We had a HUGE falling out in high school. We went our separate ways. We kind of reconnected in college. But not really. This friend was going through the whole party-til you puke thing. It wasn't really my scene. But I loved her nonetheless. But she ditched me as a friend. She disappeared and resurfaced in Washington state. She is now married and has two children. She is a writer and an artist. She has a blog of her own. It's pretty cool. Check it out: http://alchemy-studio.blogspot.com/ . I even wrote her a note because I found her on facebook. She wrote me back and said that she sometimes dreams about me. But she did not indicate that she misses me or that she wants to rekindle the friendship. To make matters worse, she's friends...apparently really good friends with a girl (woman now) who was VERY mean to me back in high school. I'm out and this other person is in.

Why is that? Why did she dump me for this other person? I should be over it. But I'm so not. It hurts so much even as I write this. Why does it matter? I don't know. It just does. She is living such a full life. I am happy for her. Her husband is an artist, she writes like she has always wanted to, and I should move on and be happy knowing that she finally found happiness. But I can't seem to. She sits in my heart. I think about her and I want to cry because I miss her. We were very close. I have no idea what would happen if she ever came back into my life. Part of me says to be careful for what you wish for, you might just get it. But my mind keeps going back to her. I don't know if it's because of some unfinished business or if perhaps I still want her to be a part of my life. She is a different person now. She knows almost nothing about me. Doesn't really need to. I think the chapter of her life that included me is closed. But only for her. Am I pathetic or what?

Arrrggghh....

2008-12-06T17:43:00.000-05:00

So, as I said, I'm new to the blogger thing. As I understand it, these things are like, online journal entries where you can talk about stuff. Well, I'm going to talk about blogging and the technical mumbo jumbo that seems to be involved.

I am aggravated. I just tried to sign in. Google wouldn't recognize my password, so it forced me to go through this dumb process where you have to look at and retype letters that looked like they went through a taffy machine. My flippin eyesight is getting worse as I get older, so asking me to do this is just mean...I think of it as age descrimination. Hah!

I just finished writing that last paragraph and realize that I sound like an old geezer...I'm not even forty yet. I need to stop complaining. So let me adjust my support hose and my bifocals and I'll stop complaining.

This post will probably be short. I'll add more later when I'm at work, but for now it will probably be short. I think I'm just excited to be a "blogger" and am kind of poking the idea with a stick. Truth be told, I have started other blogs before...and forgotten about them. I just remembered that I started one on MySpace a while back. Never added more than a post or two.

Let's hope that this will be different. A new committment let's say. Maybe my desire to write will actually force this to develop into something...or not. We'll take this ride together, shall we. Fasten your seatbelt, but pull out a good book to refer to from time to time while you wait for me to post. I'm not sure how often I will post. I will blog without obligation as I have seen on another site recently. Some of what I write (probably more than some if the truth be told) will be crap, but hopefully I will develop some nuggets that are worth reading. Thanks in advance if you take the ride with me and work your way through the crappy posts to get to the good ones.

I was poking around at my friend Chris' blog. She has a good blog. Check it out: http://www.amusings.net/clg/index.html . She writes about her life and her family. She is a loving mom and an interesting writer. Very descriptive and bohemian in her prose. I love her ability to say what she thinks without worrying too much about how it sounds. I suppose she doesn't have to worry anyway...she is a kind person who has a nice way of looking at life. Don't get me wrong, she is very honest about what she sees in her life, but she doesn't use her blog like a bludgeoning hammer the way I am tempted to.

Another very interesting blog belongs to a guy named Kevin. His blog is: http://blog.kevingibbons.com . I took a peek at his blog last night for the first time and he has some cool stuff posted there. I think one of the coolest things about Kevin is his title for work...I know, there are many cool things about Kevin, but I just have to say that there aren't many who can put on their resume that they are Groove Escalation Engineers. It sounds so cool. So happening. So techno-bohemian. I love it.

There's that word again: bohemian. I keep using that word. I do not think that word means what I think it means...I wonder what Webster's has to say about it. We'll look at that later. Pizza has arrived and I should hang with the fam before work. But think about that word...bohemian...while I'm eating. And look it up. I will too.

Well...here I am...

2008-12-06T03:47:00.000-05:00

Here I am at work. Plenty of time to write. What to write about. I've decided to have a blog because I like to write. If you think what I write is crap, please feel free to tell me, just try to be kind. I bruise easily.

So...what do I do? I'm a mother of 5, wife, dog and cat owner, and part time worker at a hospital. I don't do any of the heroic jobs, I'm just a lowly switchboard operator. But it helps. It helps me because I cannot feel good if I am not contributing to the financial security of my family. On an intellectual plane I know that being a stay at home mother has it's own contributions, but I think I just have it ingrained in me to not be a financial burden. I also think that as much as I hate the idea, I DO use money as a measuring stick...as in, how much do you make. Not that what I make is all that much, but at least I am attempting to create some reserves and not just be a drain. But back to helping. I think that being a switchboard operator on a per diem basis helps my children to see that everyone can contribute to the safety and stability of the family. I also think that it's important that I help the heroes and heroines of the hospital to connect with those that are in need.

My ideas of where I'd be in my life are so different than they used to be. When I was a wet-behind-the-ears graduate from college, I thought that when I grew up I would have a profession. I would "BE SOMEBODY." Maybe an obstetritian. Maybe a teacher. Maybe a journalist. Maybe a childcare provider. Maybe a theologian (yes, that WAS a consideration at one point). But now I'm just struggling to BE. I don't understand where people who do the full-time work and being a parent thing get the energy reserves. I just don't have them. I give what I have to my family, and not very well. Whatever I have left is given to my friends (mostly on Facebook) or my per diem job.

I suppose I should tell you a little bit about me. First, I am one of six children. The six of us are spread out across the country like jewels on a blanket. I am a middle child. I fill the role of peacemaker, avoider of the proverbial waves. I don't want to upset anyone. I am not particularly close to any save one of my siblings. Perhaps further down the road I will talk about that, but just now I don't feel I know you well enough to tell you about that stuff. I'm not at all sure that you want to hear it anyway.

But let me tell you about the sibling I AM close to. His name is Rob. Rob has been a real inspiration to me. When we were kids, he was a bit of a wild man. Always a good guy, but did his share of partying and did not want to go to college. That was for bookworms.

Well, Rob discovered that he couldn't get where he wanted to go after highschool unless he went to college. So after working in the blue collar world for a bit, he did indeed go to school, earn his degree and now he has the life he wanted. He's a go getter. He's willing to do what it takes to get to where he wants to be. He has the tenacity to get what he wants and no one is going to hold him back. I admire him deeply for this.

Believe it or not, I have that tenacity too. I just don't know what I want. It doesn't come quite as clear to me. Being a middle child I was taught not to worry about what I wanted...it was more about making those around me happy so the boat did not get too rocked. I'm not sure I can break out of that. It has become a real hinderance to be a peacemaker, but it's part of who I am.

I'm not whining here either. I'm only describing. Maybe, at some point I will indeed whine, but for now, I am only describing things to you so you will know where I am coming from. When asked the direct question: What do you want? I cannot answer that. I have tried to think about what I want. I want world peace. I want a flower. I want a happy life. I want to live a good life. I want friends. I want music. I want funkyness. I want a left turn.

What's a left turn? A left turn is spontaneity. A left turn is an unusual experience. A break out of the hum drum ho hum life. A chance to not be plodding along, sheeplike, after some unattainable carrot that someone else tells me I should want. I want so much not to be like all the other 40-something women out there who are living lives of quiet desperation because that is what they are supposed to do if they are good girls and want to get into Heaven.

When I think about the people and faces in my life, they are diverse in some respects. Christine with her love of Shakespeare, Ellen with her devotion to hedonism, Brenda, my neighbor who is a single nurse and who seems so interesting in an earthy crunchy sort of way. I have friends that are public servants, who are self-servants and who serve God. Some of my friends are gun-toting, right-wing Republicans, and some of them are dyed-in-the-wool liberals who balk at the mere suggestion that a life growing inside a womb might have rights too.

I would like to think that I am an open-minded person. But I find it curious that I have no friends that are black. I have in the past, but not now. I have no friends that are gay, never have. Not because I would shun them, but it just never seems to have happened. And I wonder why. Do those who live alternative lifestyles have some kind of instinct that tells them to steer clear of me? Hmmmm...

My sister lives a quite funky life (from my perspective anyway). She and her boyfriend live in the midwest. They go to drag clubs. They go see Zepplin cover bands. She left New England after high school and has never looked back. She is carving out her own niche and I am proud of her. But she doesn't like me anymore. We had a falling out, and that was it. She kind of calls once in a while, but it isn't the same. I disappointed her and that is that. But I admire her from afar. She waits tables. She walks dogs. She takes classes. And she takes no prisoners. She is who she is. Thank God for that.

I have another sister. I haven't spoken to her in several years. Not because I don't want to. She just doesn't want anything to do with me. I don't really know why. Maybe I remind her too much of all the things in New England that hurt her. But I miss her. I hear second hand about how she is doing sometimes. She seems happy. I'm glad for her. I just wish she cared a little about me. As I said in the beginning, I bruise easily.

I have children. I told you earlier that I have five. That's kind of true. I had five pregnancies, four live births and currently have three of those children living with me. Our firstborn had some serious congenital heart defects and he died. I think about him every day. His name was Thomas.

After Thomas died I did a lot of advocacy work in his memory. I got so wrapped up in the advocacy that I started to neglect my surviving children, so I backed off. I hope to go back to it some day. We'll see.

I'm new to this blog thing, so if I am all over the place, forgive me. I want to say something meaningful and funkadelic, but I probably won't. If I keep reminding myself that I am writing because I like to write maybe it will be better writing. If I remember that others may read this, I get self conscious (like now) and write garbage. But even if it's garbage, I suppose I am still writing. Shame on you if you keep reading garbage.