A big hearty welcome to the bloggy blog world Stacy. We always wanted a girl!
XO
Check out Stacy Sheer's bouncing baby blogsite. http://www.takebackthebirth.com/blog/
Stacy is midwife, hypnotherapist, and author of You Knew Everything The Day You Were Born. She holds strong to the belief that "the life drama is reflected in the birth trauma."
Go Stacy!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Love is....
Jennifer Lauck asks in a recent blog entry...What is love? The replies to her question were introspective, inspirational and lovely.
The response that came to me doesn't seem to fit with the deeper reflections in Jennifer's comments, so I post it here. It may be silly, but to me, it's love nonetheless.
Ahem...
Love is…when you drop off your kids at a friend’s house to attend your son’s preschool parent orientation together, and then later you return to pick them up, and as you are leaving, your friend’s toddler slams the door shut behind you.... and you look at each other and both spontaneously say, “AND STAY OUT!”
It's the kind of thing that isn't going to happen with anyone else. That shared sense of history and humor. It's a ribbon that loops around the children and ties us together. It's joy.
Feeling safe enough to share your own deranged self.
To me, that's love.
The response that came to me doesn't seem to fit with the deeper reflections in Jennifer's comments, so I post it here. It may be silly, but to me, it's love nonetheless.
Ahem...
Love is…when you drop off your kids at a friend’s house to attend your son’s preschool parent orientation together, and then later you return to pick them up, and as you are leaving, your friend’s toddler slams the door shut behind you.... and you look at each other and both spontaneously say, “AND STAY OUT!”
It's the kind of thing that isn't going to happen with anyone else. That shared sense of history and humor. It's a ribbon that loops around the children and ties us together. It's joy.
Feeling safe enough to share your own deranged self.
To me, that's love.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
I Hope
From the Goddesses otherwise known as the Dixie Chicks from their Taking The Long Way CD: (It's a sexy bluesy tune. Seth and I were groovin' to it this morning in the car).
Sunday morning, I heard the preacher say...Thou shall not kill
I don't wanna hear nothing else about killing..
And that it's God's will.
'Cause our children are watching us
They put their trust in us
They're gonna be like us
So let's learn from our history
And do it differently
I hope,
for more love, more joy and laughter
I hope,
we'll have more than we'll ever need
I hope,
we'll have more happy ever after
I hope,
we can all live more fearlessly
And we can lose all the pain and misery
I hope
I hope
Sunday morning, I heard the preacher say...Thou shall not kill
I don't wanna hear nothing else about killing..
And that it's God's will.
'Cause our children are watching us
They put their trust in us
They're gonna be like us
So let's learn from our history
And do it differently
I hope,
for more love, more joy and laughter
I hope,
we'll have more than we'll ever need
I hope,
we'll have more happy ever after
I hope,
we can all live more fearlessly
And we can lose all the pain and misery
I hope
I hope
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Give That Girl A Raise!
Today is Riley’s second full day of school and I am exhausted. I just never realized how much of Seth she absorbs. He is a high energy, rough and tumble little guy and she keeps him entertained quite well. They play nicely together most of the time, as long as he complies with her bossing.
Then yesterday, evening, there was an S.O.S. call from down the hall!
"We need more wipes!"
"We need more wipes!"
Todd and I glanced at each other. His turn to investigate. Off he went toward the bathroom.
Seth had pooped, and Riley was wiping him, when...they tragically ran out of supplies.
We gotta start paying this kid more.
P.S. Riley's first day of school went pretty well!
Then yesterday, evening, there was an S.O.S. call from down the hall!
"We need more wipes!"
"We need more wipes!"
Todd and I glanced at each other. His turn to investigate. Off he went toward the bathroom.
Seth had pooped, and Riley was wiping him, when...they tragically ran out of supplies.
We gotta start paying this kid more.
P.S. Riley's first day of school went pretty well!
Monday, August 28, 2006
You Know Who You Are
It happened again. I met up with an old friend who said, "I’ve been keeping up with your blog."
"You have?"
"Yes...but I feel kind of funny reading it. Like I’m spying on you or something."
People...let’s get some things straight.
Yada, yada, I write it for me.... but Blogs are meant to be read. How sad would I be if my little counter, week after week said the equivalent to: "Give it up, no one cares."
If you’d like to hang onto your anonymity, I assure you...I have no super spy gadgetry that allows me to see who is reading or how many times you log on. (If only my "technical guy" were that sophisticated)? There is a geographical counter, and I guess theoretically, if you are someplace way out in Timbucktu, and I know you’re there, and it lights up, and it's the first light from Timbucktu...I might put two and two together, but still....no proof it was you. Not that I mind if you’re reading.
So...read on, guilt free. That’s what it’s here for, but please remember one thing. Just because you read my blog doesn’t mean you’re up to date on my life. There’s way more stuff going on. It also doesn’t mean I have a clue about what’s up with you!
Capiche?
Call me.
Love ya!
and P.S. Thank you for reading it at all!
"You have?"
"Yes...but I feel kind of funny reading it. Like I’m spying on you or something."
People...let’s get some things straight.
Yada, yada, I write it for me.... but Blogs are meant to be read. How sad would I be if my little counter, week after week said the equivalent to: "Give it up, no one cares."
If you’d like to hang onto your anonymity, I assure you...I have no super spy gadgetry that allows me to see who is reading or how many times you log on. (If only my "technical guy" were that sophisticated)? There is a geographical counter, and I guess theoretically, if you are someplace way out in Timbucktu, and I know you’re there, and it lights up, and it's the first light from Timbucktu...I might put two and two together, but still....no proof it was you. Not that I mind if you’re reading.
So...read on, guilt free. That’s what it’s here for, but please remember one thing. Just because you read my blog doesn’t mean you’re up to date on my life. There’s way more stuff going on. It also doesn’t mean I have a clue about what’s up with you!
Capiche?
Call me.
Love ya!
and P.S. Thank you for reading it at all!
Sunday, August 27, 2006
A Moment in Endicott, Our Hometown
Friday evening, Todd's parent's house, during our visit home, upstate NY:
-------------
“Michelle, she looks just like you!” Todd’s Gramma says loudly. “Every frickin’ inch!” she laughs.
Her white hair is styled high on her head, each strand glued in its place with hairspray. Her make-up is heavy. Thick eye shadow over each eye. Dark brows are penciled on. Bright lipstick lines her mouth.
Riley is hiding behind me, peeking out with one eye at her great grandmother. It’s taken an hour of crying for her to get this close. Gram C. is 90 pounds, soaking wet (if she’s lucky), but still, she’s just so… much. Riley scampers out of the kitchen to join her brother and her cousins playing downstairs.
Gram is on a day visit from the nursing home. She tells me she’s one of the few people there who still care about their looks. “Michelle, there are people younger than me there, younger than me, who never get dressed! They don’t do their make-up. They just sit around and eat and sleep and shit, and that’s it.” She says, shaking her head, disgusted.
Gram C. smokes cigarettes.
Laughing she says, “I’m gonna go have my marijuana.” She's used it for years and still cracks herself up with that line.
This week she scored a big victory. She will get to keep her cigarettes in her room instead of asking the nursing home staff every time she wants one. "I told them they are MY cigarettes and I shouldn’t have to beg for them.” (There was also a little something in there about how if she had a gun she’d shoot them).
Gram’s little sister Sarah is 80 and she‘s every bit the firecracker. She recently had her portrait painted by an artist she’s been seeing. Gram C. doesn’t think he’s Sarah’s "type" and accuses her of “stringing him along.” Sarah won’t show us the painting and I ask her if it’s a nude. She likes this and cracks up.
Gram C. and Sarah have a daily morning ritual where they call each other and argue, until one of them hangs up on the other.
After dinner, my sister Kelli stops over. Gram C. and Aunt Sarah share with us their latest dirty jokes.
This one from Gram:
“A woman is looking for dates, so she puts in a personal ad. She agrees to meet with one gentleman. He gets to her house and rings the doorbell but when she comes to the door she notices he has no arms. She decides to give him a chance and interview him. She asks him all her questions, and then she asks her last one. You’ve got no arms but what about sex? I mean, are you able....?
How do you think I rang your doorbell? He replies.”
Laughter all around as they go back and forth, swapping jokes.
Later, Gram takes my arm. “Michelle….in three years I’m gonna be 90!” Her face shifts from joy to worry.
“And?” I say
“It scares me. I don’t want to be 90.”
“Why not? I ask.
“It’s old. I don’t want to get old.”
I hold her hands for a long moment and we study each other’s eyes. I've known her for 11 years, but never realized we have so much in common? At 27, I dreaded being 30(I'm way over it now)! I still want to tell loved ones who to date or who not to(still working on this). We both love Todd to our depths.
Riley comes back into the kitchen. I hold my arm out to her and this time she walks up closer to Gram. Gram yanks her in, hugs her, kisses the top of her head. Riley tenses, but allows it.
Gram looks up at me, beaming.
“Every frickin inch!” she says.
-------------
“Michelle, she looks just like you!” Todd’s Gramma says loudly. “Every frickin’ inch!” she laughs.
Her white hair is styled high on her head, each strand glued in its place with hairspray. Her make-up is heavy. Thick eye shadow over each eye. Dark brows are penciled on. Bright lipstick lines her mouth.
Riley is hiding behind me, peeking out with one eye at her great grandmother. It’s taken an hour of crying for her to get this close. Gram C. is 90 pounds, soaking wet (if she’s lucky), but still, she’s just so… much. Riley scampers out of the kitchen to join her brother and her cousins playing downstairs.
Gram is on a day visit from the nursing home. She tells me she’s one of the few people there who still care about their looks. “Michelle, there are people younger than me there, younger than me, who never get dressed! They don’t do their make-up. They just sit around and eat and sleep and shit, and that’s it.” She says, shaking her head, disgusted.
Gram C. smokes cigarettes.
Laughing she says, “I’m gonna go have my marijuana.” She's used it for years and still cracks herself up with that line.
This week she scored a big victory. She will get to keep her cigarettes in her room instead of asking the nursing home staff every time she wants one. "I told them they are MY cigarettes and I shouldn’t have to beg for them.” (There was also a little something in there about how if she had a gun she’d shoot them).
Gram’s little sister Sarah is 80 and she‘s every bit the firecracker. She recently had her portrait painted by an artist she’s been seeing. Gram C. doesn’t think he’s Sarah’s "type" and accuses her of “stringing him along.” Sarah won’t show us the painting and I ask her if it’s a nude. She likes this and cracks up.
Gram C. and Sarah have a daily morning ritual where they call each other and argue, until one of them hangs up on the other.
After dinner, my sister Kelli stops over. Gram C. and Aunt Sarah share with us their latest dirty jokes.
This one from Gram:
“A woman is looking for dates, so she puts in a personal ad. She agrees to meet with one gentleman. He gets to her house and rings the doorbell but when she comes to the door she notices he has no arms. She decides to give him a chance and interview him. She asks him all her questions, and then she asks her last one. You’ve got no arms but what about sex? I mean, are you able....?
How do you think I rang your doorbell? He replies.”
Laughter all around as they go back and forth, swapping jokes.
Later, Gram takes my arm. “Michelle….in three years I’m gonna be 90!” Her face shifts from joy to worry.
“And?” I say
“It scares me. I don’t want to be 90.”
“Why not? I ask.
“It’s old. I don’t want to get old.”
I hold her hands for a long moment and we study each other’s eyes. I've known her for 11 years, but never realized we have so much in common? At 27, I dreaded being 30(I'm way over it now)! I still want to tell loved ones who to date or who not to(still working on this). We both love Todd to our depths.
Riley comes back into the kitchen. I hold my arm out to her and this time she walks up closer to Gram. Gram yanks her in, hugs her, kisses the top of her head. Riley tenses, but allows it.
Gram looks up at me, beaming.
“Every frickin inch!” she says.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Got Courage?
Sue Monk Kidd, in her book Dance of the Dissident Daughter quotes Maya Angelou on what it takes to be a writer:
1) something to say
2) the ability to express it
3) the courage to express it all
Ms. Angelou, you are a gift to humankind. Thank you for your courage. May we each soak up some of your light.
1) something to say
2) the ability to express it
3) the courage to express it all
Ms. Angelou, you are a gift to humankind. Thank you for your courage. May we each soak up some of your light.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Are You A Princess?
"Are you a princess? I said & she said I'm much more than a princess, but you don't have a name for it yet here on earth."
-Brian Andreas
This was the quote I chose for the invitations to Riley’s first birthday celebration. At the time I had no idea.
For more Brian Andreas quotes and free e-cards, go here:
http://www.storypeople.com/storypeople/Home.do
-Brian Andreas
This was the quote I chose for the invitations to Riley’s first birthday celebration. At the time I had no idea.
For more Brian Andreas quotes and free e-cards, go here:
http://www.storypeople.com/storypeople/Home.do
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Three's The Charm!
We won on our third e-bay attempt!. Wags and Henry will be making their way to our house in time for Seth's 4th birthday.
Thank you for all of your thoughts and prayers as we journeyed through this uncertain time.
Romp-pomp-a-chomp y'all!
Thank you for all of your thoughts and prayers as we journeyed through this uncertain time.
Romp-pomp-a-chomp y'all!
Monday, August 21, 2006
Lousy e-bay!
Okay, I'm sick of it.
I have been outbid twice.
I am not a haggler. Just tell me the price and if it's worth it I'll pay. If not, I'll move on. I'm the person they were thinking of when the concept of Saturn (as in cars) came up. I will never understand how people think negotiating for a bargain is fun?
So...the toys Seth wants (he's dreamed of them for months) are apparantly not being made any longer. His birthday is in just a couple of weeks.
Surely someone out there must have a stuffed Henry and Wags that your children have outgrown? Surely you'd e-mail me and allow me to buy it from you for a fair price?
(whimper)
Surely?
If you don't know who Henry and Wags are, just consider yourself lucky and move along. Nothin' to see here.
Di-dicky-do-dum-di-dum-do, Di-dicky-do-dum-dicky-dicky-di dum!
Take it off Anthony! Take it all off!
I have been outbid twice.
I am not a haggler. Just tell me the price and if it's worth it I'll pay. If not, I'll move on. I'm the person they were thinking of when the concept of Saturn (as in cars) came up. I will never understand how people think negotiating for a bargain is fun?
So...the toys Seth wants (he's dreamed of them for months) are apparantly not being made any longer. His birthday is in just a couple of weeks.
Surely someone out there must have a stuffed Henry and Wags that your children have outgrown? Surely you'd e-mail me and allow me to buy it from you for a fair price?
(whimper)
Surely?
If you don't know who Henry and Wags are, just consider yourself lucky and move along. Nothin' to see here.
Di-dicky-do-dum-di-dum-do, Di-dicky-do-dum-dicky-dicky-di dum!
Take it off Anthony! Take it all off!
Friendship Question of the Day
If you find out a friend is engaging in really unhealthy behavior...do you call her on it or allow said friend to make her own mistakes? By not mentioning it, are you enabling? By mentioning it are you intruding? Where do you draw the line?
Presently I have a friend who is sleeping with a very married guy.
Another friend has moved in with a really nice dope smoker who’s been in and out of rehab . I’m not kidding. He’s really nice, but he's an addict who is still smoking pot. Aren’t we a little OLD for this? Do we really want him around her kids?
A third friend is also acting out sexually.
Tell me.
Do I need to live and let live or set up some interventions? Are these beautiful, funny, smart women so desperate they will just hop on the first pop that winks in their direction?
C'mon sisters. Rise! Rise! Rise!
Presently I have a friend who is sleeping with a very married guy.
Another friend has moved in with a really nice dope smoker who’s been in and out of rehab . I’m not kidding. He’s really nice, but he's an addict who is still smoking pot. Aren’t we a little OLD for this? Do we really want him around her kids?
A third friend is also acting out sexually.
Tell me.
Do I need to live and let live or set up some interventions? Are these beautiful, funny, smart women so desperate they will just hop on the first pop that winks in their direction?
C'mon sisters. Rise! Rise! Rise!
Sunday, August 20, 2006
WWJD?
I put this post up last night.
Then, I deleted it.
I decided to sleep on it.
What is my motivation?
Am I just trying to stir the pot?
Do I risk offending people?
The night before, Todd and I had an amazing discussion about Jesus. About religion. About how our current administration has taken Jesus and used His name to do its bidding. About how a whole nation has been hoodwinked into thinking they are not Godly or patriotic if they don't practice Christianity or if they happen to interpret its message differently than some do.
Recently I felt myself reluctant to sing the Star Spangled Banner at an event because I am so ashamed of my country. Ashamed that we didn't collectively take a stand at the beginning of this war and say "Hell no!" Ashamed that some lives (including the unborn) are given more value than others. Iraqi civilians are snuffed out with a shrug, like it's nothing. As a country we don't take care of the children we do have. Katrina. Our inner cities. Our rural poor. It is sickening.
It's morning. Sunday morning, and I'm going to go ahead and post. In a way...it feels like I'm standing up for Jesus if I do. It's the least I could do for such a good Friend.
If you follow Kelly's link, make sure you stay through to the end. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get my kids ready for church.
Here it is:
For those of you (Christian and non-Christian alike) discouraged by the high-jacking of Jesus by religious extremists, check out this Bill Maher clip at Kellyology.
http://kellyology.blogspot.com/
Thanks Kelly!
Then, I deleted it.
I decided to sleep on it.
What is my motivation?
Am I just trying to stir the pot?
Do I risk offending people?
The night before, Todd and I had an amazing discussion about Jesus. About religion. About how our current administration has taken Jesus and used His name to do its bidding. About how a whole nation has been hoodwinked into thinking they are not Godly or patriotic if they don't practice Christianity or if they happen to interpret its message differently than some do.
Recently I felt myself reluctant to sing the Star Spangled Banner at an event because I am so ashamed of my country. Ashamed that we didn't collectively take a stand at the beginning of this war and say "Hell no!" Ashamed that some lives (including the unborn) are given more value than others. Iraqi civilians are snuffed out with a shrug, like it's nothing. As a country we don't take care of the children we do have. Katrina. Our inner cities. Our rural poor. It is sickening.
It's morning. Sunday morning, and I'm going to go ahead and post. In a way...it feels like I'm standing up for Jesus if I do. It's the least I could do for such a good Friend.
If you follow Kelly's link, make sure you stay through to the end. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get my kids ready for church.
Here it is:
For those of you (Christian and non-Christian alike) discouraged by the high-jacking of Jesus by religious extremists, check out this Bill Maher clip at Kellyology.
http://kellyology.blogspot.com/
Thanks Kelly!
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Back In The Day....
Coloring at the dining room table, the conversation went like this:
Riley, 6: "When I was a young child, I used to watch Rolie Polie Olie."
Seth, almost 4: "Well...when I was a teensy baby, I used to say A-B-C-D-E-F-G, H-I-J-K-
Oh Oh-M-N-O-P."
Riley: (chuckling) "Yeah....you did."
Riley, 6: "When I was a young child, I used to watch Rolie Polie Olie."
Seth, almost 4: "Well...when I was a teensy baby, I used to say A-B-C-D-E-F-G, H-I-J-K-
Oh Oh-M-N-O-P."
Riley: (chuckling) "Yeah....you did."
Friday, August 18, 2006
Friend or Foe? You Decide.
I met Riley’s new teacher today. She is beautiful and smart and kind and caring. This much I can tell from the 20 minute visit. She took time out of her day to come to our house, with her three year old in tow, to get to know Riley a little bit before school starts. To help Riley feel more comfortable.
Riley showed her new teacher her messy bedroom, some baby pictures, all her toys; she even dressed up as a princess to impress her. Riley was open, and seemed just fine.
Releasing your baby to kindergarten is hard for most moms, I think? For me, even more so because I don’t always trust the world to understand her and treat her kindly.
I’ve had a thing for Einstein for a long time now. Six years ago, I hung a poster of him in Riley’s nursery. I’d read that babies liked faces, and that they liked black and white. His face is so interesting, his hair so wild, I thought she would love it. Todd thought he looked deranged and that the poster would frighten her. After my 26 hour labor, he really had no game. The mere mention of her birth won me many battles. The poster stayed.
Last night I finished the book Expecting Adam. In it, Martha Beck quotes my guy Einstein:
“....the single most important decision any of us will ever have to make is whether or not to believe that the universe is friendly.”
Oh Albert....(can I call you Albert?).
I so want to believe.
Who's That Girl?
Yes, Todd changed the picture on my blog profile tonight. I'm about to dive deep into the second draft of my memoir and there won't be time for such foolishness. The one we picked makes my hair look deceptively longer than it is. Out of the 15 or so pictures to choose from, maybe two actually look like me. What's up with that? I'd always been cursed with chubby cheeks and it seems gravity has finally rid me of them but I seriously do not recognize the woman in these pictures? Todd doesn't know who the hell she is either? He claims he would not be able to pick me out of a line-up in this one.
Here's another example.
And finally..a little something for the boys. Watch me make love to the camera..y'all ready for this?
I'm.
Too sexy for my blog.
Here's another example.
And finally..a little something for the boys. Watch me make love to the camera..y'all ready for this?
I'm.
Too sexy for my blog.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Baked Pears/Riley's Dessert
- Cut up a couple of ripe bartlett pears, put them in a glass baking dish.
- add a couple shakes of cinnamon
- pour a few squirts of honey over the top
- pour enough white grape juice to just about cover the pears
- bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes
(Use same recipe for baked carrots...Seth loves them).
- add a couple shakes of cinnamon
- pour a few squirts of honey over the top
- pour enough white grape juice to just about cover the pears
- bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes
(Use same recipe for baked carrots...Seth loves them).
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Seth
Breathing you in I am filled up with your goodness. I press a kiss on your cheek so round and taut. Hooking my fingers into your little blond mop I drag them through slowly over and over. On the king size we are love itself, looking up at the stars on the ceiling from your fancy old baby monitor with the projector in it. Too stimulating for babies trying to sleep... now you drag it around by its cord like a toy puppy.
"There's Saturn!" you say.
You are the sweetest soul; sensitive and kind, wearing your heart boldly on your sleeve.
“Be with me. Mommy….will you be with me?”
Always.
"There's Saturn!" you say.
You are the sweetest soul; sensitive and kind, wearing your heart boldly on your sleeve.
“Be with me. Mommy….will you be with me?”
Always.
Monday, August 14, 2006
The "R" Word
“Knock it off you RETARD!” I screamed at my brother from the big field behind my grandmother’s house. It was actually an air strip for landing small planes. We were out there, a slew of us kids, and somehow the play fighting had gotten too rough.
My grandmother stood barefoot on her covered patio behind her house, facing us in the field. She was short, with dark skin, dark piercing eyes.
“Michelle!” she hollered. "Git over here!”
Fuming, I walked up the hill toward her. Why wasn’t she calling Christopher too? He started it. With each step I readied my case.
When I got to her, my gruff gramma had tears in her eyes.
“Do you know when you use that word, you are talkin' about people like Jack?”
“What word?”
“Retard.” she said, disgustedly.
I looked at her confused.
Retard is a bad word? Everyone says retard? All the time.
I opened my mouth, “I didn’t mean Jack...I was just....I mean...Chris...”
She held my gaze, “When people use that word, they are making fun of people like Jack.”
My stomach sank.
I loved Jack.
My grandmother and Jack’s dad had been living together forever. Jack’s mom died when he was a baby and Gramma is like his mom now. I think of him as my cousin, even though he’s more like an uncle. Jack is one year older than me but he doesn’t look it at all.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
Grandma rolled her eyes and said, “Awww....Jesus Christ, don’t start crying. I know you love him. He knows you love him. You’re the only person he’ll go in the water with aren't cha? You taught him to put his face in, didn’t cha? He wouldn’t do that for anyone else. Now git out of here, go play, and I don’t ever want to hear you use that word again, you hear?”
I turned around and walked back down the hill.
I heard.
* My grandmother died in 1999 after mothering Jack for over 30 years. Jack currently lives in a group home. He has Down syndrome.
My grandmother stood barefoot on her covered patio behind her house, facing us in the field. She was short, with dark skin, dark piercing eyes.
“Michelle!” she hollered. "Git over here!”
Fuming, I walked up the hill toward her. Why wasn’t she calling Christopher too? He started it. With each step I readied my case.
When I got to her, my gruff gramma had tears in her eyes.
“Do you know when you use that word, you are talkin' about people like Jack?”
“What word?”
“Retard.” she said, disgustedly.
I looked at her confused.
Retard is a bad word? Everyone says retard? All the time.
I opened my mouth, “I didn’t mean Jack...I was just....I mean...Chris...”
She held my gaze, “When people use that word, they are making fun of people like Jack.”
My stomach sank.
I loved Jack.
My grandmother and Jack’s dad had been living together forever. Jack’s mom died when he was a baby and Gramma is like his mom now. I think of him as my cousin, even though he’s more like an uncle. Jack is one year older than me but he doesn’t look it at all.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
Grandma rolled her eyes and said, “Awww....Jesus Christ, don’t start crying. I know you love him. He knows you love him. You’re the only person he’ll go in the water with aren't cha? You taught him to put his face in, didn’t cha? He wouldn’t do that for anyone else. Now git out of here, go play, and I don’t ever want to hear you use that word again, you hear?”
I turned around and walked back down the hill.
I heard.
* My grandmother died in 1999 after mothering Jack for over 30 years. Jack currently lives in a group home. He has Down syndrome.
Quote from Expecting Adam, a memoir by Martha Beck
"....you'll never be hurt as much by being open as you have been hurt by remaining closed."
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Scream Meditation
So, I've got an hour to myself before Todd goes to work and I am in my little writing room, on the floor on my back doing a meditation. I'm just starting to "go there" meaning I'm just starting to let everything else go. My body is relaxed, my breathing is deep, and suddenly I hear
"EEeiiiikkkkkkkkkaahhhhhhhhhhh!Ahhhh!!!!!!!!EEiiiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkaaaa! Wahhhhh!!!!!!"
Riley.
My shoulders tense. Should I go see what's up? No. Her Daddy has her. He can handle it.
Another scream.
Let it go. Let it go.
Can't let it go.
Okay then.....enter the scream. Go right into it.
I'm traveling, flying down a bright red mucosal tunnel, traveling, traveling, fast but not scary. Exhilirating. It is shiny, psychedelic...the light hitting the sides and reflecting back oranges and reds, pinks and golds.
I travel and travel and then the sides of the tunnel begin to darken, a little greyish here and there, the air is different now, thick and choking...the light is dim.
White patches on some of the walls. Closer, I see the white patches are moving. Thousands of individual dots. Zooming in they are men, tiny soldiers with Roman hats and they are taking their spikes and chinking away at the mucosa. Eating it. Laughing.
They eat and eat and eat. En masse they choke of the blood supply, making the host weak, draining her life force. They toy with her, laughing sadistically as they take their fill. When they sense she can take no more they let out disgusting belches and lay down to rest, knowing they will have another meal as soon as she gathers her strength.
I travel back up the tunnel. The screaming has long since stopped.
I've seen them now. I've got a description.
We're almost there.
"EEeiiiikkkkkkkkkaahhhhhhhhhhh!Ahhhh!!!!!!!!EEiiiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkaaaa! Wahhhhh!!!!!!"
Riley.
My shoulders tense. Should I go see what's up? No. Her Daddy has her. He can handle it.
Another scream.
Let it go. Let it go.
Can't let it go.
Okay then.....enter the scream. Go right into it.
I'm traveling, flying down a bright red mucosal tunnel, traveling, traveling, fast but not scary. Exhilirating. It is shiny, psychedelic...the light hitting the sides and reflecting back oranges and reds, pinks and golds.
I travel and travel and then the sides of the tunnel begin to darken, a little greyish here and there, the air is different now, thick and choking...the light is dim.
White patches on some of the walls. Closer, I see the white patches are moving. Thousands of individual dots. Zooming in they are men, tiny soldiers with Roman hats and they are taking their spikes and chinking away at the mucosa. Eating it. Laughing.
They eat and eat and eat. En masse they choke of the blood supply, making the host weak, draining her life force. They toy with her, laughing sadistically as they take their fill. When they sense she can take no more they let out disgusting belches and lay down to rest, knowing they will have another meal as soon as she gathers her strength.
I travel back up the tunnel. The screaming has long since stopped.
I've seen them now. I've got a description.
We're almost there.
Friday, August 11, 2006
The Purple Room
Damn me and my books! If I'd never read Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life Of Bees, I wouldn’t be stuck with the most awful shade of purple currently covering the walls of my dining room.
I took the color from a greeting card sent to me by my sister. It is gorgeous (on a 4 x 6 inch space). Covering four walls with it, in a room where food is meant to be ingested...not so much.
But alas....Seth LOVES the color. In fact he has fallen in love with all things purple, and at the mention of painting over the dining room he falls to the floor, dejected, in a puddle of tears. He looks at me with a glare that says, “Clearly....you can’t possibly think it isn’t the prettiest shade ever and clearly...you are just plain mean.” We've bought the can of white paint to cover it up. It sits in the corner of the dining room. New rollers and brushes, ready to go. Months go by and there it sits.
In The Secret Life Of Bees, the main characters all live together in a big bright pink house out in the country. The matriarch, when asked about the color, tells the questioner that one of the women in the house ( a sweet dear woman who marches to the beat of her own drum) LOVES the pink. Feeding her soul is more important than convention. It is more important than worrying about what other people will think.
I have to admit. While the color is a bit intense, it's not really that I I personally hate it so much. It is my fear of what others might think.
Am I too indulgent, letting the three year old dictate the color of the dining room? I've tossed this around, but I don't think so. Seth is more important than what other people may think. Maybe someday when he's in a situation holding the power, he'll remember to consider others.
It's been over a year. Surly he can’t love purple forever? I’ll be alert and hijack his “next” favorite color. I'll find a nice muted shade of it to cover the walls. I don’t even care what color it turns out to be?
Besides, as you can see....it's not like we really eat in there.
I took the color from a greeting card sent to me by my sister. It is gorgeous (on a 4 x 6 inch space). Covering four walls with it, in a room where food is meant to be ingested...not so much.
But alas....Seth LOVES the color. In fact he has fallen in love with all things purple, and at the mention of painting over the dining room he falls to the floor, dejected, in a puddle of tears. He looks at me with a glare that says, “Clearly....you can’t possibly think it isn’t the prettiest shade ever and clearly...you are just plain mean.” We've bought the can of white paint to cover it up. It sits in the corner of the dining room. New rollers and brushes, ready to go. Months go by and there it sits.
In The Secret Life Of Bees, the main characters all live together in a big bright pink house out in the country. The matriarch, when asked about the color, tells the questioner that one of the women in the house ( a sweet dear woman who marches to the beat of her own drum) LOVES the pink. Feeding her soul is more important than convention. It is more important than worrying about what other people will think.
I have to admit. While the color is a bit intense, it's not really that I I personally hate it so much. It is my fear of what others might think.
Am I too indulgent, letting the three year old dictate the color of the dining room? I've tossed this around, but I don't think so. Seth is more important than what other people may think. Maybe someday when he's in a situation holding the power, he'll remember to consider others.
It's been over a year. Surly he can’t love purple forever? I’ll be alert and hijack his “next” favorite color. I'll find a nice muted shade of it to cover the walls. I don’t even care what color it turns out to be?
Besides, as you can see....it's not like we really eat in there.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Jenny Rough
Have y'all seen Jenny Rough's new website design?
http://www.jennyrough.com
It is the coolest.
Among other things, Jenny is a lawyer turned writer who is the proud parent of a new writing retreat in the Colorado mountains. (A retreat that other writers can rent out...Hello! Book my ticket!). Jenny is kicking butt, getting published in The Washington Post, Self Magazine and a slew of others. In the words of our mentor Jennifer Lauck...."She's the real deal."
Congrats Jenny!
http://www.jennyrough.com
It is the coolest.
Among other things, Jenny is a lawyer turned writer who is the proud parent of a new writing retreat in the Colorado mountains. (A retreat that other writers can rent out...Hello! Book my ticket!). Jenny is kicking butt, getting published in The Washington Post, Self Magazine and a slew of others. In the words of our mentor Jennifer Lauck...."She's the real deal."
Congrats Jenny!
And On And On.........
I think it’s rude, when I call someone, and the outgoing message on their answering machine says something like this:
“Please leave a short message...blah blah blah...and remember....keep it brief.”
Why is this okay? Would you say something like this if you met the message leaver in person?
It's kind of like flipping someone off from your car.
The thing is.... when you chastise me for my tendency to leave lengthy messages...it only makes me nervous....and I tend to ramble on even more. I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.
Okay.
Maybe I am doing it on purpose, a little.
“Please leave a short message...blah blah blah...and remember....keep it brief.”
Why is this okay? Would you say something like this if you met the message leaver in person?
It's kind of like flipping someone off from your car.
The thing is.... when you chastise me for my tendency to leave lengthy messages...it only makes me nervous....and I tend to ramble on even more. I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.
Okay.
Maybe I am doing it on purpose, a little.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Peaks of Otter
One of the great things about living in Lynchburg is that in a hop skip and a jump y
ou can be out of Lynchburg and up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. With that Kahlil Gibran quote from a couple of days ago still in my head....I blew off everything I was supposed to do today and headed up to Peaks of Otter with the kids.
It was a spur of the moment thing. I quickly packed up snacks and just as we were heading out the door I went to the CD cabinet, closed my eyes and vowed to leave with the first CD I picked. It was Annie Lennox’s Diva (1992)...interesting?
I probably hadn’t listened to it in ten years. It turned out to be a fantastic pick for the 45 minute drive. It was as if my 24 year old self picked out the CD in 1992 as a present to my 37 year old self. The first song Why is so intense. Lennox’s voice is powerful and happens to be the perfect pitch for me to sing along with. (There are some singers that... try as I may...I never will be in their key, James Taylor, for one...damn it...he’s impossible to sing along with). The kids loved the bouncy rhthym of the next song, Walking On Broken Glass. Stealing glances of them in the rearview, they were all smiles, jazzed up and happy to be going on an adventure.
Up at the Peaks I gave the kids instructions. They were to do whatever they wanted. Borrowing a phrase from Jennifer Lauck...."It's Your world ,kiddos.."
Seth hesitated at first, then he poked a sneaker toe into the creek and looked up at me questioningly?
"Your world, buddy. I’ve got extra shoes in the car."
He smiled and then jumped right into the squishy mud, instantly clouding up the water. Riley hung back a bit, but soon she was asking to cross the shallow creek with the help of my hand...and a little while later, bravely doing it herself! A big step for her.
Peaks of Otter has a lake and those little troopers hiked around the whole thing. Seth peed in the woods three times, (Riley and I just once). We ate lunch, played in the creek some more and headed home.
Seth nodded off just as Annie Lennox started her second run through. A few minutes later I glanced in the mirror at Riley as the following lines to the song Precious floated by:
Precious little angel
Won’t you spread your light on me
I was locked up in the darkness
Now you’ve come to set me free
I was covered up with sadness
I was drowned in my own tears
I’ve been cynical and twisted
I’ve been bitter all these years
I was lost until you came.
I was lost until you came.
She smiled at me and I sent out a silent prayer of thanks.
ou can be out of Lynchburg and up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. With that Kahlil Gibran quote from a couple of days ago still in my head....I blew off everything I was supposed to do today and headed up to Peaks of Otter with the kids.It was a spur of the moment thing. I quickly packed up snacks and just as we were heading out the door I went to the CD cabinet, closed my eyes and vowed to leave with the first CD I picked. It was Annie Lennox’s Diva (1992)...interesting?
I probably hadn’t listened to it in ten years. It turned out to be a fantastic pick for the 45 minute drive. It was as if my 24 year old self picked out the CD in 1992 as a present to my 37 year old self. The first song Why is so intense. Lennox’s voice is powerful and happens to be the perfect pitch for me to sing along with. (There are some singers that... try as I may...I never will be in their key, James Taylor, for one...damn it...he’s impossible to sing along with). The kids loved the bouncy rhthym of the next song, Walking On Broken Glass. Stealing glances of them in the rearview, they were all smiles, jazzed up and happy to be going on an adventure.
Up at the Peaks I gave the kids instructions. They were to do whatever they wanted. Borrowing a phrase from Jennifer Lauck...."It's Your world ,kiddos.."
Seth hesitated at first, then he poked a sneaker toe into the creek and looked up at me questioningly?
"Your world, buddy. I’ve got extra shoes in the car."
He smiled and then jumped right into the squishy mud, instantly clouding up the water. Riley hung back a bit, but soon she was asking to cross the shallow creek with the help of my hand...and a little while later, bravely doing it herself! A big step for her.
Peaks of Otter has a lake and those little troopers hiked around the whole thing. Seth peed in the woods three times, (Riley and I just once). We ate lunch, played in the creek some more and headed home.
Seth nodded off just as Annie Lennox started her second run through. A few minutes later I glanced in the mirror at Riley as the following lines to the song Precious floated by:
Precious little angel
Won’t you spread your light on me
I was locked up in the darkness
Now you’ve come to set me free
I was covered up with sadness
I was drowned in my own tears
I’ve been cynical and twisted
I’ve been bitter all these years
I was lost until you came.
I was lost until you came.
She smiled at me and I sent out a silent prayer of thanks.
Spiritual Progressives
I've been invited to attend a meeting of a new group forming in Lynchburg and around the country called Spiritual Progressives. I've not read up on it enough, but from what I gather it is a political movement designed to encourage left minded thinkers to publically and personally claim their relationship with God. It seems to aim to challenge the notion that people are God-less if they are not in agreement with the current administration. So far so good.
I've got much more research to do before I commit to joining something like this, but I like the Ten Committments in Tikkun Magazine, a publication affiliated with the Spiritual Progressives movement.
http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/ten_commitments
There is also a book that sounds intriguing: The Left Hand of God, Taking Our Country Back From the Religious Right
http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/books/left-hand
I've got much more research to do before I commit to joining something like this, but I like the Ten Committments in Tikkun Magazine, a publication affiliated with the Spiritual Progressives movement.
http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/ten_commitments
There is also a book that sounds intriguing: The Left Hand of God, Taking Our Country Back From the Religious Right
http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/books/left-hand
International Readers...I'm begging you!
Not enough has been made about Carrie Wilson Link's blog. She's in my links to the right. You'll learn so much about special needs kids, gay people, Love., writing workshops, marriage, and last but not least, tea.
She is a riot. You won't be disappointed.
(U.S. readers are welcome to visit too).
She is a riot. You won't be disappointed.
(U.S. readers are welcome to visit too).
Monday, August 07, 2006
P---Euuwww!
So....the kittens are so sweet and everything and the kids are in love and we're keeping up with the litter box, poop for poop,(clumping flushable litter) and still....it reeks!
It's most disconcerting. I don't want to be one of those houses where you walk in and the first thing you smell is the cat box. I don't remember cats stinking this much? Is it because there are two? What to do? We can't get rid of them now that we're all in love.
Today, Todd discovered the problem. Seems the kitties have been using the bin for recycled newspapers as their second bathroom. We'll have to put the bins downstairs in the laundry room and keep the door shut until these babies figure out everything. Less convienient, but already....the house smells fresh again! Whew!
Spent Any Time Outside Today?
“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
Kahlil Gibran
Taken from the Inspiration Peak website where "Love." T-shirts can be found. Gibran's The Prophet is one of the most beautiful books I've read.
Thanks Carrie!
Kahlil Gibran
Taken from the Inspiration Peak website where "Love." T-shirts can be found. Gibran's The Prophet is one of the most beautiful books I've read.
Thanks Carrie!
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Lardna and Other Endearments
Button gets first formula one victory!
I don’t know what a formula one victory is? It looks like some sort of car race based on the picture flashing on my screen, but Button? …I like .
When Todd was a hospital pharmacist(still is), and I was a pharmacy technician there was a patient that was admitted often. Her name was “Shortsleeve.” The first time I read the label I cracked up, so Todd was sure to point it out to me whenever Mrs. Shortsleeve was in again. I‘d take the label printed off the computer and pull Mrs. Shortsleeve‘s meds, smiling all the while. (That's right...Todd knew how to work the ladies).
When we were looking for our current house, I made the first trip to Virginia solo, to narrow our choices.
The conversation from my cell phone went like this:
“Well…there’s one off of Rivermont Ave. It’s nice. But…..there’s another one…… a bit further out in the country. It isn’t exactly what we’re looking for…..but the street name is Holiday Bob! How fun would that be?”
Todd, ever the voice of reason talked me out of Holiday Bob, and the house we‘re in is much more appropriate for us, but still…..I do think the silliness factor is a legitmate one to consider! How many times will I write that address down? How many times will I smile?
In one of Jerry Jampolsky’s books (sorry can‘t remember which one), there is a story about an old lady who changed her name to Happy. People responded to her differently and she lived out her life in a much more adventerous and happy way. For a long time I fantasized about changing my name to Happy too, (until Adam Sandler came out with one of his dumb movies and that took care of that).
At least there’s Lardna. And by Lardna I mean my friend Kathy(pictured below). It started at a Thai restaurant about 12 years ago. Someone said something insulting no doubt(in gest), and someone called the other one Lardna (a dessert on the menu) and now we both refer to each other as Lardna every chance we get. Of course we have other nick-names for each other.
Hers: Slim-goody (one of my dates actually called her this once).
K.C.: She was lamenting that she wanted a nickname, so I put her initals together and gave her one.
Me: Long & lush (refers to my hair not my stature. I’m 5’2. Can only be used if my hair is long at the time).
Speaking of Kathy, her name is really Kathleen, and she prefers to be called that. She didn’t tell me this til’ about 15 years into the friendship,(what the?) so forgive the above slip. Anyhoo…..Kathleen is due for one of our annual scary close ups for her fridge. Print it out yourself, Lardna...and don't give me any trouble or I'll tell them about that thing with you and feet.
XO
Your friend,
Long & Lush
I don’t know what a formula one victory is? It looks like some sort of car race based on the picture flashing on my screen, but Button? …I like .
When Todd was a hospital pharmacist(still is), and I was a pharmacy technician there was a patient that was admitted often. Her name was “Shortsleeve.” The first time I read the label I cracked up, so Todd was sure to point it out to me whenever Mrs. Shortsleeve was in again. I‘d take the label printed off the computer and pull Mrs. Shortsleeve‘s meds, smiling all the while. (That's right...Todd knew how to work the ladies).
When we were looking for our current house, I made the first trip to Virginia solo, to narrow our choices.
The conversation from my cell phone went like this:
“Well…there’s one off of Rivermont Ave. It’s nice. But…..there’s another one…… a bit further out in the country. It isn’t exactly what we’re looking for…..but the street name is Holiday Bob! How fun would that be?”
Todd, ever the voice of reason talked me out of Holiday Bob, and the house we‘re in is much more appropriate for us, but still…..I do think the silliness factor is a legitmate one to consider! How many times will I write that address down? How many times will I smile?
In one of Jerry Jampolsky’s books (sorry can‘t remember which one), there is a story about an old lady who changed her name to Happy. People responded to her differently and she lived out her life in a much more adventerous and happy way. For a long time I fantasized about changing my name to Happy too, (until Adam Sandler came out with one of his dumb movies and that took care of that).
At least there’s Lardna. And by Lardna I mean my friend Kathy(pictured below). It started at a Thai restaurant about 12 years ago. Someone said something insulting no doubt(in gest), and someone called the other one Lardna (a dessert on the menu) and now we both refer to each other as Lardna every chance we get. Of course we have other nick-names for each other.
.0.jpg)
Hers: Slim-goody (one of my dates actually called her this once).
K.C.: She was lamenting that she wanted a nickname, so I put her initals together and gave her one.
Me: Long & lush (refers to my hair not my stature. I’m 5’2. Can only be used if my hair is long at the time).
Speaking of Kathy, her name is really Kathleen, and she prefers to be called that. She didn’t tell me this til’ about 15 years into the friendship,(what the?) so forgive the above slip. Anyhoo…..Kathleen is due for one of our annual scary close ups for her fridge. Print it out yourself, Lardna...and don't give me any trouble or I'll tell them about that thing with you and feet.
XO
Your friend,
Long & Lush
Choosing Where To Focus
My friend Susie’s comment on my last post got me thinking. I have had many gifts of friendship throughout my life. Why would I would focus on the one that rejected me?
A Course in Miracles would call it the “ego.” That force that wants to keep us in hell right here on earth, right here in our own minds. No matter how happy we may be, it finds a way to cut into that happiness in an effort to convince us of something that can never be true. It wants us to believe we are separate from our Source. The more peaceful we become, the more viciously it attacks.
Today I will take some time to run through all the friendships I currently have. It is a big circle, expanding every day. I will offer up gratitude for all of them. Thank you Susie!
Perhaps this experience is preparing me? Social situations have always been fairly easy for me. They are scary for Riley. She officially enters school later this month and perhaps this little ego flare up is just what I needed to not only understand her feelings, but also to be able to ask her the right questions if a social rejection occurs.
A Course in Miracles would call it the “ego.” That force that wants to keep us in hell right here on earth, right here in our own minds. No matter how happy we may be, it finds a way to cut into that happiness in an effort to convince us of something that can never be true. It wants us to believe we are separate from our Source. The more peaceful we become, the more viciously it attacks.
Today I will take some time to run through all the friendships I currently have. It is a big circle, expanding every day. I will offer up gratitude for all of them. Thank you Susie!
Perhaps this experience is preparing me? Social situations have always been fairly easy for me. They are scary for Riley. She officially enters school later this month and perhaps this little ego flare up is just what I needed to not only understand her feelings, but also to be able to ask her the right questions if a social rejection occurs.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Growth & Gratitude
I had a roommate one time that I became really close to. At least I thought we were close? We lived together in a house of four young women for a couple of years post college. When she moved to a city far away to head a non-profit, she stopped returning my phone calls. Surely her new position required much of her time and though I tried to chalk it up to us going in different directions, it hurt. An acquaintance who was also a close friend of hers told me she had blown her off as well, which made me feel a little better, but not much.
This friend was from a wealthy family. I grew up poor. She was the first person from old money I’d ever had a friendship with and through her I learned not to automatically resent rich people. This was an important lesson for me which I do believe paved the way for more prosperity in my own life. It’s hard to attract that which you deem evil. She wasn’t stuck up at all, and my spoiled rich bitch stereotypes were dashed.
Still, when she stopped calling, it pushed all my buttons. Did she think she was better than me? Obviously she didn’t deem me worthy of her friendship? This set me on a spiral that lasted for years, wondering what I did wrong? Was I so rough around the edges at the time of our friendship that she found me repulsive? Was the friendship which I thought was real, a joke for her? While we were hanging out those last few months, did she know she would drop me as soon as she left? Oh how I tortured myself over this, but then my own life got busier and I let it go. At least I thought I had.
A decade later, when I was pregnant for Seth I started to think about her again. I knew she was from a prominent family that ran a magazine in a well known city. I thought maybe she headed home and worked for the family company? I googled the magazine and though I did not see her listed on the staff, her sister was. I e-mailed explaining who I was and asking her to forward a little note to my friend. Surely enough time had passed for any petty grievance to be forgotten? Her sister’s response was very friendly. She told me she’d forward my e-mail and informed me that my friend was expecting her second child. I was thrilled for her and couldn’t wait to tell her about my own little girl. To think, we had kids the same ages!
She never responded.
This took me straight back to a place in which I am very small, and convinced that I’m not worth anything. A place where I feel terribly flawed.
I offer this friend a prayer of thanks.
Had she not blown me off, I never would have had the opportunity to confront this view of myself as inferior. I might have received a few nice ego strokes had we reconnected, but would have continued to ignore the pain deep in my psyche.
Tonight I had the urge to google her again, but I’ve been working hard over the years and I’ve got more tools now. Instead of letting my mind go there.... “Why didn’t she like me?” Tonight I ask the more relevant question, “Do I like me?”
I stand in front of the mirror. I see someone who has come so far. The product of a teenage marriage. The child of an abusive alcoholic. The person I see can’t possibly be judged for who she was at 22. She was just getting started. I see kindness and compassion. Someone who loves strongly and tries hard. Staring hard into my own eyes, the answer to my good question is “yes.”
For reasons I’ll never know, a friend who once meant a lot to me rejected me.
And....if this never had happened, I might not have looked in that mirror. What a blessing she was.
This friend was from a wealthy family. I grew up poor. She was the first person from old money I’d ever had a friendship with and through her I learned not to automatically resent rich people. This was an important lesson for me which I do believe paved the way for more prosperity in my own life. It’s hard to attract that which you deem evil. She wasn’t stuck up at all, and my spoiled rich bitch stereotypes were dashed.
Still, when she stopped calling, it pushed all my buttons. Did she think she was better than me? Obviously she didn’t deem me worthy of her friendship? This set me on a spiral that lasted for years, wondering what I did wrong? Was I so rough around the edges at the time of our friendship that she found me repulsive? Was the friendship which I thought was real, a joke for her? While we were hanging out those last few months, did she know she would drop me as soon as she left? Oh how I tortured myself over this, but then my own life got busier and I let it go. At least I thought I had.
A decade later, when I was pregnant for Seth I started to think about her again. I knew she was from a prominent family that ran a magazine in a well known city. I thought maybe she headed home and worked for the family company? I googled the magazine and though I did not see her listed on the staff, her sister was. I e-mailed explaining who I was and asking her to forward a little note to my friend. Surely enough time had passed for any petty grievance to be forgotten? Her sister’s response was very friendly. She told me she’d forward my e-mail and informed me that my friend was expecting her second child. I was thrilled for her and couldn’t wait to tell her about my own little girl. To think, we had kids the same ages!
She never responded.
This took me straight back to a place in which I am very small, and convinced that I’m not worth anything. A place where I feel terribly flawed.
I offer this friend a prayer of thanks.
Had she not blown me off, I never would have had the opportunity to confront this view of myself as inferior. I might have received a few nice ego strokes had we reconnected, but would have continued to ignore the pain deep in my psyche.
Tonight I had the urge to google her again, but I’ve been working hard over the years and I’ve got more tools now. Instead of letting my mind go there.... “Why didn’t she like me?” Tonight I ask the more relevant question, “Do I like me?”
I stand in front of the mirror. I see someone who has come so far. The product of a teenage marriage. The child of an abusive alcoholic. The person I see can’t possibly be judged for who she was at 22. She was just getting started. I see kindness and compassion. Someone who loves strongly and tries hard. Staring hard into my own eyes, the answer to my good question is “yes.”
For reasons I’ll never know, a friend who once meant a lot to me rejected me.
And....if this never had happened, I might not have looked in that mirror. What a blessing she was.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Did You Know?
Yesterday I got an e-mail from the non-profit SafeMinds, reminding me of the following info:
Did you know many of the same people at the CDC in charge of vaccine safety are also in charge of promoting immunizations and many have financial interests (such as holding patents) on the new vaccines they are pushing through?
Did you know that children began receiving many vaccines in the same day (many in the same shot) even though no one had studied whether this bombardment on the immune system was safe?
Did you know the CDC continues to refuse to share its research data on vaccine safety with the public?
Hmmmmmmm?
Last month, U.S. Representative Dave Weldon, M.D. (R-FL) introduced a bill that would put an independent agency within the Department of Health and Human Services in charge of vaccine oversite, taking the CDC out of the picture. It's only right.
The autism community has several amazing organizations that keep track of what the government is up to regarding these issues. They are relentless in following the twists and turns which play out as grippingly as The Da Vinci code.
If only this were fiction.
www.safeminds.org
www.a-champ.org
Did you know many of the same people at the CDC in charge of vaccine safety are also in charge of promoting immunizations and many have financial interests (such as holding patents) on the new vaccines they are pushing through?
Did you know that children began receiving many vaccines in the same day (many in the same shot) even though no one had studied whether this bombardment on the immune system was safe?
Did you know the CDC continues to refuse to share its research data on vaccine safety with the public?
Hmmmmmmm?
Last month, U.S. Representative Dave Weldon, M.D. (R-FL) introduced a bill that would put an independent agency within the Department of Health and Human Services in charge of vaccine oversite, taking the CDC out of the picture. It's only right.
The autism community has several amazing organizations that keep track of what the government is up to regarding these issues. They are relentless in following the twists and turns which play out as grippingly as The Da Vinci code.
If only this were fiction.
www.safeminds.org
www.a-champ.org
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Talk About Trashed!
This morning, I woke up to a mess. It had been happening slowly over a number of days. Todd has been working lots of overtime. I haven’t been getting a break. Which leaves me energy depleted. Which is why I haven't been keeping after the kids to clean up each little mess they make. Toys were all over the place. The counter in the bathroom was cluttered with stuff. I won’t even get into the state of our toilets. Piles of laundry were on the floor and in the baskets. Looking around at it all, I felt as if I were slogging slowly underwater, unable to begin.
Mid morning, I hadn’t gotten very far when Todd called from work.
“This house is trashed.” I said.
Neither of us are neat freaks, but Todd’s tolerance level is about two days behind mine. At this point he had barely noticed the state of our home.
“Don’t worry about it Sweetie. The kids alone are enough work.” he said all chipper. “ I’ll help you tonight. We’ll get it straightened up.”
This two second conversation turned my day around.
He didn’t care if the house was a mess. He wasn’t judging me. He knew I hadn’t had a break. He also didn’t think it was my responsibility alone to keep the place tidy.
I hung up the phone and started with the living room. Strange? My energy lifted. Two minutes was all it took to pick up the toys. Next, I changed the kids sheets, and the kitten’s litter box, and threw in a load of laundry.
After that, I tackled the toilets.
Finally, I unburied the kitchen.
My house still wouldn’t pass any white glove test, but I also wouldn’t be mortified if a neighbor dropped in.
Todd won’t have anything left that has to be done when he gets home, which is good because I can think of a better way to spend our time tonight after the kids go to bed.
An offer to help and a few words of appreciation go a long way. It’s a shame more men don’t pick up on this and realize the benefits of a having a truly grateful wife.
Ripples
"There is nothing else for it, I shall have to solve my own problems. I always get the feeling that when I solve them for myself I shall have solved them for a thousand other women. For that very reason I must come to grips with myself."
Nazi concentration camp survivor Etty Hillesum, from the intro of Sue Monk Kidd's The Dance of the Dissident Daughter.
Nazi concentration camp survivor Etty Hillesum, from the intro of Sue Monk Kidd's The Dance of the Dissident Daughter.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Hold On
You hear the commotion and come down two steps,
you wish you could live someplace else.
Your parents are fighting and Daddy is drinking and at these times
he isn’t himself.
You tip-toe around and don’t fight with your brother. You don’t want to get Dad upset.
And Mommy is sad and you need her so much, but she just has nothing for you left.
You think that if only you were a bit better, he’d love you and stop this today.
If you could just be a bit more perfect, everything would be okay.
But I’m here to tell you, dear child of God, you never did anything wrong.
You are a human, you make your mistakes, but you are God’s own sweet song.
Your parents are here to teach you, and you are here to teach them.
Remember the hurt and when you have children, don’t ever do this to them.
Your Daddy and Mommy do love you. They’re just scared and sad and lost.
If they knew how they would protect you. They’d do it at any cost.
Now God can take any pain or mistake and use it to further love’s course.
You can’t change where you come from, but the future is your to endorse.
When you are making decisions, two voices you will hear. One will bring you joy,the
other will bring you fear.
Be silent and listen to love’s still voice. Know you are never alone. When the world is feeling crazy, you are never far from your true home.
You will survive this and you will bloom. You are never really lost.
For it is written in eternity, you are God’s perfect thought.
* I wrote the above in 2004. I envision it as a children's book, to be given to kids in families dealing with addiction. It is what I wish someone had said to me. For the illustrations I picture an angel talking to a child. It is of course, inspired by my study of A Course In Miracles.
you wish you could live someplace else.
Your parents are fighting and Daddy is drinking and at these times
he isn’t himself.
You tip-toe around and don’t fight with your brother. You don’t want to get Dad upset.
And Mommy is sad and you need her so much, but she just has nothing for you left.
You think that if only you were a bit better, he’d love you and stop this today.
If you could just be a bit more perfect, everything would be okay.
But I’m here to tell you, dear child of God, you never did anything wrong.
You are a human, you make your mistakes, but you are God’s own sweet song.
Your parents are here to teach you, and you are here to teach them.
Remember the hurt and when you have children, don’t ever do this to them.
Your Daddy and Mommy do love you. They’re just scared and sad and lost.
If they knew how they would protect you. They’d do it at any cost.
Now God can take any pain or mistake and use it to further love’s course.
You can’t change where you come from, but the future is your to endorse.
When you are making decisions, two voices you will hear. One will bring you joy,the
other will bring you fear.
Be silent and listen to love’s still voice. Know you are never alone. When the world is feeling crazy, you are never far from your true home.
You will survive this and you will bloom. You are never really lost.
For it is written in eternity, you are God’s perfect thought.
* I wrote the above in 2004. I envision it as a children's book, to be given to kids in families dealing with addiction. It is what I wish someone had said to me. For the illustrations I picture an angel talking to a child. It is of course, inspired by my study of A Course In Miracles.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Important Enough
A few years back I met a stay at home mom at a self-defense class (I’ve since lost touch with her). She was funny and smart and she had a mean axe kick. At the end of the five week class she gave me her business card. It had her phone number, e-mail, etc. and following her name it said, “....important enough to have my own cards.” Isn’t that fantastic?
Purgatory
I can’t remember where I first heard this idea, it certianly wasn't mine and it was a long time ago. The idea is that of a life review at the time of death? Not just having one’s life flash before their eyes, but the type of life review where we experience all the suffering we have inflicted on others in direct proportion to what we gave. You must viscerally feel every drop of pain you doled out. This is purgatory.
During an image streaming practice I did this morning, I had a vision. George W. had died, leaving the country and the world in its current mess.
He went to Jesus who greeted him warmly and told him he was accepted and forgiven. Jesus told him he must go through the life review and that he would remain beside him.
The movie began. George W. stood and watched. He wept for the little boy he was, who was forced into being something he wasn’t (only severe pain breeds fundamentalists).
W. winces as the film rolls along. This person he was rude to. That person he used. These people he hurt.
He tries to turn his head several times during his campaigns for president. Jesus takes his chin and turns his face back to the screen.
Forward to today. Every death his administration is responsible for, slowly, one by one the faces appear. W. recoils in terror, scrambling to get away. Jesus holds him, and turns his head back to the screen. The faces keep coming. W. shakes and thrashes as he experiences the fear every child who died under his authority experienced. Now wracked with sobs he experiences the grief of the parents, the sisters, the brothers, the grandmas, the grandfathers, the aunts, the uncles. W. flails wildy in horror, yet he must feel it all.
Jesus holds him. Jesus loves him.
It is a very long film.
During an image streaming practice I did this morning, I had a vision. George W. had died, leaving the country and the world in its current mess.
He went to Jesus who greeted him warmly and told him he was accepted and forgiven. Jesus told him he must go through the life review and that he would remain beside him.
The movie began. George W. stood and watched. He wept for the little boy he was, who was forced into being something he wasn’t (only severe pain breeds fundamentalists).
W. winces as the film rolls along. This person he was rude to. That person he used. These people he hurt.
He tries to turn his head several times during his campaigns for president. Jesus takes his chin and turns his face back to the screen.
Forward to today. Every death his administration is responsible for, slowly, one by one the faces appear. W. recoils in terror, scrambling to get away. Jesus holds him, and turns his head back to the screen. The faces keep coming. W. shakes and thrashes as he experiences the fear every child who died under his authority experienced. Now wracked with sobs he experiences the grief of the parents, the sisters, the brothers, the grandmas, the grandfathers, the aunts, the uncles. W. flails wildy in horror, yet he must feel it all.
Jesus holds him. Jesus loves him.
It is a very long film.
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