Fashion-sense is such a misnomer, it truly ought to be called "fashion-nonsense" don't you agree? I suppose the fact that it makes zillions of cents instead is suppose to make up for that shortcoming.
Earlier this week I saw a photo of some new fashion line. The title of the article said something about fashion covering it's face. Naturally, that got my attention! The photo was a blonde model wearing thick gold chains across her face in a pattern that could only make one think of Hannibal Lector's character in Silence of the Lambs. If it hadn't grossed me out I would have laughed. I mean, was the designer angry at his wife - did she nag or cook a bad meal or were an immeasurable amount of drugs involved?
My 3 yr old son is apparently taking his fashion queues from MTV gangsta-rappers (& no I don't let him watch such nonsense) but where & how he was exposed to this venue is a total mystery to me. None the less, when asked to put on jammies the other night he came out without a shirt on, a pair of baggy shorts & a Scooby Do ski - hat all catywampus on his head. My 6 yr old is also learning is own hip-hop moves also by osmosis. I'm not sure what's going on but have to admit, the kid's got talent!
In other news we are having friends over for a BBQ this evening. The only concern of mine is that they won't treasure the dust-bunnies that I've been careful to allow to develop & nurture their growth & even name like I do. OK, you caught me, I don't love the dang dust bunnies, I just don't seem to be able to stop their reproductive cycle-does anyone have dust-bunny birth control ? Is that something I go to a vet for or do I look in the cleaning aisle of the store?? Pledge you say? Got some, it, as you may have already guessed, has dust on it too. Remodeling is a dirty business let me tell you. Just how do you dust the inside guts of a wall? I mean, some of that junk is suppose to be there isn't it? Good Grief!!!! Anyway, the wife is the cutest little Philippine woman you ever saw with a heart of gold! They went boating with us one day & she was content to man the BBQ & do all the cooking most of the day! She cleans constantly & even was employed as a housekeeper for sometime. Our home is, well....decidedly NOT anything like theirs except for the love factor. I'm so nervous, but when am I not a little human-chiwawa as my husband calls me? Hubby was moving my antique radio this morning to move the salt-water aquarium into its place & ended up with a dustpan full of our little friends, this one was so large I was looking for feet & / or a tail on it!!! Martha would absolutely drop dead here!
I also had the dear man tell me this morning quite frankly, "You've got to quit worrying so much over what other people think or say! You'd be less afraid of having a gun to your head than of being in a situation where someone might say something negative about you". I pictured this scenario as he spoke & without hesitation agreed. Heck, with a gun to my head I'd probably be reasoning with the gunman & trying to protect everyone. But say something nasty to me or have there be a slight chance of someone saying something & I crumble. Now I've just let loose my Achilles' heel, promise not to fling any arrows!!!! -please?
Be Blessed Dear Readers, wishing you all fashionable BBQs without dust-bunnies!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I Wanna Be 3 Years Old Again
My little "Crash" will be 4 years old toward the end of November. This morning, after making me totally exasperated with his growling at me & "me so mad at you mommy" for wanting him to put on a jacket & socks & shoes to go outside before 8:00AM on a crisp Autumn morning in the Pacific Northwest, he stated 5 minutes later, "me willy wuv you mommy, whowe, duper much". I am loving seeing life through his eyes!
Here in this state, the unofficial motto is: "If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes". The same can be said for the emotions of my 3 yr old. I had mentioned that his socks didn't match (1 was patterned with some yellow on it & the other was completely white) and that 1 sock had a hole in it with his big toe popping out. He said quite non-shalantely, "yeah, me know, me like it dat way dow". Do have any idea how convenient that would be, how liberating, as adults if we could just wear pajama bottoms to work with a dress shirt or a fuzzy slipper on 1 foot & a flip flop on another because, we like it that way? How totally unencumbered life could be. We can color the sky red & green, with blue grass, we can eat gummy fruit snacks for breakfast & cookies for dinner & a full course dinner for lunch if we want. Pancakes without chocolate chips would be unheard of. The only thing in the world better than Sesame Street would be watching it with a friend with your heads hanging upside down over the edge of the couch. The only worry would be whether we needed to go to the store for more strawberry or chocolate milk mix or not. The only requirement that you would be nagged about would be to remember to wipe, flush & wash when in the bathroom. Otherwise, as my oldest son's first baby sitter's daughter use to sing, "Don't worry, be happy, toys are in the toy box"!!!
Yup, I really wanna be 3 years old again & I'm already mourning the loss of that age in my little guy too, even though it isn't for another 2 months. Dear Readers, today I wish you your own remembrances of 3 years old and whomever your higher power be, Be Blessed!
Here in this state, the unofficial motto is: "If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes". The same can be said for the emotions of my 3 yr old. I had mentioned that his socks didn't match (1 was patterned with some yellow on it & the other was completely white) and that 1 sock had a hole in it with his big toe popping out. He said quite non-shalantely, "yeah, me know, me like it dat way dow". Do have any idea how convenient that would be, how liberating, as adults if we could just wear pajama bottoms to work with a dress shirt or a fuzzy slipper on 1 foot & a flip flop on another because, we like it that way? How totally unencumbered life could be. We can color the sky red & green, with blue grass, we can eat gummy fruit snacks for breakfast & cookies for dinner & a full course dinner for lunch if we want. Pancakes without chocolate chips would be unheard of. The only thing in the world better than Sesame Street would be watching it with a friend with your heads hanging upside down over the edge of the couch. The only worry would be whether we needed to go to the store for more strawberry or chocolate milk mix or not. The only requirement that you would be nagged about would be to remember to wipe, flush & wash when in the bathroom. Otherwise, as my oldest son's first baby sitter's daughter use to sing, "Don't worry, be happy, toys are in the toy box"!!!
Yup, I really wanna be 3 years old again & I'm already mourning the loss of that age in my little guy too, even though it isn't for another 2 months. Dear Readers, today I wish you your own remembrances of 3 years old and whomever your higher power be, Be Blessed!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The Diseased Spider
To call this story "MY Diseased Spider" would indicate I have some sort of ownership over it, sadly, it seems to own me more often than not. I had not invited this atrocity into my life nor my home, yet here he was all the same. To some he was deemed an innocuous, petty irritant, not worthy of recognition much less trying to dislodge him. To me, however, he was a much greater threat.
This unwelcome house guest was spinning an evil web of connections from one area to another where none should be. It pained me to watch how effortlessly he was taking over what had once been my domain. His mere existence terrifying me, rendering me nearly immobile with fear & disdain. I was powerless to defeat this monster, although to some, my reaction seemed melodramatic & ridiculous. I was overcome by this entity's presence & venomous state. Abruptly I edged further away from the things in my life I once enjoyed, wincing with each backwards step. Nearly reduced to tears, I tried to turn my back & run away from it. One cannot escape what resides within however, & each day I found myself checking for more signs of its existence. Fearfully wanting to pinpoint this monster & overpower it, ridding it from my life. Ah, but this creature was tricky & adept at hiding, lurking & expanding its web, thus creating even more painful connections with twists & turns. Some laughed at my trepidations & the fact I'd subcommed to something they deemed so petty. Why couldn't my pain be realized, understood & treated? Why did others not see the magnitude & imploding effect of this unwanted house guest?
I tried in many ways to exterminate what lay within, but each failed attempt killed a little of myself instead. The weight of this inextinguishable parasite grew heavy within. Over time it became difficult for me to know where it ended (if at all) & I began - or if I still even existed in my true form? The toxins I used in hope of regaining my life created difficulties of their own. Do I even remember how to step forward anymore rather than back? If so, my grace is surely gone. I will hobble with a red-flagged limp stating of its own "This person has been damaged in ways you cannot see". Even one rickety, faltering step forward, even if only inches, is still a victory worth fighting for. I have no chance of being who I was before, but hopefully a chance of possibly being better than I am.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Yup, My Life Has Changed
I recently took a friend out to help cheer her up at her place of choice. We ended up in a smoke filled, maximum capacity obtained, small bar with patrons singing karaoke. There were a lot of nice looking young people there & a few who didn't fit that description. Now, back in the day I would have been flirting most likely. Now, however, I looked at these people & thought, "hm, I know I'm old enough to be his or her mother, maybe his mom too". Now that just takes the fun outta the whole deal right there I tell you what! I am no longer sensing myself as a vibrant woman, but rather as a mother with no sexuality attached at all. I'm even understanding for the first time & envying how my grandparents had separate twin beds with a night stand between them! I'd sleep so much better without my husband's arm occasionally drifting over to my side of the bed or cover pulling tug-of-war.
Seeing the world through young, innocent eyes is a nice reminder of days gone by & helps make up for the above paragraph full of age-acknowledgement. My husband recently made a retaining wall in our front yard. My 3 yr old asked, "What dis gonna be mom?" I answered him saying, "It's going to be a flower bed full of pretty flowers." My son then excitedly said, "Oh yeah, fwower bed, me want to seep in it!" (translation: Oh yeah, a flower bed, I want to sleep in it!"). I believe he mentioned it & he would smell good too. Not only does my 3 yr old have a new take on what a "flower bed" is but he also managed to teach his father, an Information Systems Manager, a new computer trick by what he managed to do to my little PC in just a matter of seconds. He's definitely Daddy's boy!!!
I guess that would make my daughter all mine. She recently dented our pickup truck's bed turning a corner too sharp & hitting a pole in a drive up coffee/juice stand. She was told to get an estimate to have it fixed. Apparently she got a "cuteness discount" only being quoted $400. with an on the spot estimate despite the place advertising estimates by appointment only. She claims she couldn't have looked too good being in her cross-country running uniform but apparently the body shop would disagree with that - Whoopee!!!
Well Dear Readers, whomever your higher power be, Be Blessed & enjoy each stage of your life!
Seeing the world through young, innocent eyes is a nice reminder of days gone by & helps make up for the above paragraph full of age-acknowledgement. My husband recently made a retaining wall in our front yard. My 3 yr old asked, "What dis gonna be mom?" I answered him saying, "It's going to be a flower bed full of pretty flowers." My son then excitedly said, "Oh yeah, fwower bed, me want to seep in it!" (translation: Oh yeah, a flower bed, I want to sleep in it!"). I believe he mentioned it & he would smell good too. Not only does my 3 yr old have a new take on what a "flower bed" is but he also managed to teach his father, an Information Systems Manager, a new computer trick by what he managed to do to my little PC in just a matter of seconds. He's definitely Daddy's boy!!!
I guess that would make my daughter all mine. She recently dented our pickup truck's bed turning a corner too sharp & hitting a pole in a drive up coffee/juice stand. She was told to get an estimate to have it fixed. Apparently she got a "cuteness discount" only being quoted $400. with an on the spot estimate despite the place advertising estimates by appointment only. She claims she couldn't have looked too good being in her cross-country running uniform but apparently the body shop would disagree with that - Whoopee!!!
Well Dear Readers, whomever your higher power be, Be Blessed & enjoy each stage of your life!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Fight or Flight Response & Worn Out Blankies
A more recent theory regarding Fibromyalgia is that the affected person's fight-or-flight response mechanism, which is only meant for short term sporadic use to get us out of a sticky situation, gets turned permanently on. This perma-on status leads to deplenished levels of various brain chemicals which are just a tad important to say the least. Researchers try to associate this to a traumatic event which could have triggered such an episode. For me, it was probably a lifetime of abusive relationships & being threatened, assaulted, and so on.
Back in my youth I had thought of myself as strong, able to handle anything & more than willing to put a cad or jerk in his place if he dared to mess with a friend of mine. I felt fairly invinsible. Even though I wanted to die inside & often would drink in excess then attempt to go swimming or wander out to the middle of the road to "look at the pretty lights" not the healthiest pass time one could engage in. Despite it all, I survived, just to further endure more negativity. Once I finally became so crippled with Fibromyalgia that I could hardly walk any longer, while concurrently coming down with migraines with the prodromol effect of blindness & being a single mother to 2 preschoolers, I could no longer fight my way out of situations.
Enter the era of the beloved blankie! My bed, for some reason had always felt like a safe haven for me. A soft, comforting, warm, snugly area to either curl up in a ball & cry into my pillow, beg for an end to it all, or stretch out in comfort. Even though one night I woke up in pitch blackness with the ominous feeling of someone watching me, only to make out the outline of a figure in my room right before he lunged on top of me covering my mouth with his hand. Still, I managed to maintain a feeling of security in my bed, just not my home! I won't go into the post-traumatic stress disorder I suffered from for years or how it still effects which seat or table I choose at a restaurant or other such place, we'll save that for another time or not at all.
Apparently when I have no way to fight & no where to run away to- my bed is my escape from it all. Pulling a "chicken little" or ostrich syndrome with head buried under covers, just allowing a small viewing area to the world beyond my pillow as I try to convince myself that the sky isn't really falling. Sometimes Xanax can be a great help in moderating this debate within my mind.
Over the years I've become more sensitive to sound, additionally I worry to no end about kids, bills, marriage, various other things too trivial & bizarre to mention, but the cure is still the same-my bed. Sometimes I wish my view from my bed to the window was filled with more light or less, I think of projects I'd do if only, if only I could feel free enough to get out of bed. Mind you when I hear a strange sound, my husband has deemed all my "strange sounds that I hear" as "fly farts in Mexico" I am the one to lunge forward & go on patrol through the house & look about outside. When nothing is found I regret the time lost from my bed & return to it, re-establishing the comfort process with pillows being just so & so on. Being a tad paranoid, I thought there was something wrong with me having this obsession with my bed, but I've found out differently.
This is just a version of the fight or flight response turned permanently on in us quirky Fibromyalgia patients. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or not, but at least I understand it a little better! I also have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
Despite my love affair with my bed, blankets, pillows & so on, I normally awaken feeling like I've been beaten by baseball bats from avid pinata seekers. I am not full of candy dang it, I'm just "festively plump"!!!
Till next time Dear Readers, I wish you perfect pillows, soft blankets, a comforter of perfect weight, size & texture, earplugs if you wish, an eye mask if you like & anything else necessary to comfort you. Be Blessed & sleep well.
Back in my youth I had thought of myself as strong, able to handle anything & more than willing to put a cad or jerk in his place if he dared to mess with a friend of mine. I felt fairly invinsible. Even though I wanted to die inside & often would drink in excess then attempt to go swimming or wander out to the middle of the road to "look at the pretty lights" not the healthiest pass time one could engage in. Despite it all, I survived, just to further endure more negativity. Once I finally became so crippled with Fibromyalgia that I could hardly walk any longer, while concurrently coming down with migraines with the prodromol effect of blindness & being a single mother to 2 preschoolers, I could no longer fight my way out of situations.
Enter the era of the beloved blankie! My bed, for some reason had always felt like a safe haven for me. A soft, comforting, warm, snugly area to either curl up in a ball & cry into my pillow, beg for an end to it all, or stretch out in comfort. Even though one night I woke up in pitch blackness with the ominous feeling of someone watching me, only to make out the outline of a figure in my room right before he lunged on top of me covering my mouth with his hand. Still, I managed to maintain a feeling of security in my bed, just not my home! I won't go into the post-traumatic stress disorder I suffered from for years or how it still effects which seat or table I choose at a restaurant or other such place, we'll save that for another time or not at all.
Apparently when I have no way to fight & no where to run away to- my bed is my escape from it all. Pulling a "chicken little" or ostrich syndrome with head buried under covers, just allowing a small viewing area to the world beyond my pillow as I try to convince myself that the sky isn't really falling. Sometimes Xanax can be a great help in moderating this debate within my mind.
Over the years I've become more sensitive to sound, additionally I worry to no end about kids, bills, marriage, various other things too trivial & bizarre to mention, but the cure is still the same-my bed. Sometimes I wish my view from my bed to the window was filled with more light or less, I think of projects I'd do if only, if only I could feel free enough to get out of bed. Mind you when I hear a strange sound, my husband has deemed all my "strange sounds that I hear" as "fly farts in Mexico" I am the one to lunge forward & go on patrol through the house & look about outside. When nothing is found I regret the time lost from my bed & return to it, re-establishing the comfort process with pillows being just so & so on. Being a tad paranoid, I thought there was something wrong with me having this obsession with my bed, but I've found out differently.
This is just a version of the fight or flight response turned permanently on in us quirky Fibromyalgia patients. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or not, but at least I understand it a little better! I also have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
Despite my love affair with my bed, blankets, pillows & so on, I normally awaken feeling like I've been beaten by baseball bats from avid pinata seekers. I am not full of candy dang it, I'm just "festively plump"!!!
Till next time Dear Readers, I wish you perfect pillows, soft blankets, a comforter of perfect weight, size & texture, earplugs if you wish, an eye mask if you like & anything else necessary to comfort you. Be Blessed & sleep well.
Friday, September 14, 2007
An Official Holliday!
It was an official holiday here at your house last night. not one you will readily find on any calendar, but a holiday none the less! The occasion you ask? I made dinner - a real dinner! It was devoured for the most part-this despite not including macaroni and cheese. My 7 year old even asked for seconds of "smashed potatoes & that other stuff" pointing to the chicken fried steak. My 3 year old who originally had looked at it and stated, "Oh me hate that stuff" decided if big brother was having more, it was worth a shot.
Not only did I make dinner and put food away, I also did the dishes. I've been taking myself off medicines, frustrated with all the side effects and I'm regaining considerable energy. The problem with this is being unable to relax and sleep, which can be bothersome. I come to be jealous of the sleeping members of the household, then resentful, why should they get to sleep when I don't? sleep deprivation just adds to my craziness but I prefer the term "cute little quirks" it just sounds more fun & happy spirited! I get very loopy and slow to catch on to things being said, this is what I refer to as "child like innocence" -see, there's always a more chipper way to look at any situation. I know for certain, my family is not mourning any future or current sleep loss or other health burdens I may face. no, they are celebrating that Mom fed them something other than a sandwich, cereal, frozen food or hot-dogs. Oh, or my all time favorite mantra, "forage for food" meaning - clean out the fridge of leftovers or whatever else you feel like finding around the house. So yes, I, bzmomkfor cooked dinner tonight! Mark your calendars, it may just become an annual event - maybe.
Well good day Dear Readers, have a blessed day, for today I wish you satisfying, holiday-worthy dining.
Not only did I make dinner and put food away, I also did the dishes. I've been taking myself off medicines, frustrated with all the side effects and I'm regaining considerable energy. The problem with this is being unable to relax and sleep, which can be bothersome. I come to be jealous of the sleeping members of the household, then resentful, why should they get to sleep when I don't? sleep deprivation just adds to my craziness but I prefer the term "cute little quirks" it just sounds more fun & happy spirited! I get very loopy and slow to catch on to things being said, this is what I refer to as "child like innocence" -see, there's always a more chipper way to look at any situation. I know for certain, my family is not mourning any future or current sleep loss or other health burdens I may face. no, they are celebrating that Mom fed them something other than a sandwich, cereal, frozen food or hot-dogs. Oh, or my all time favorite mantra, "forage for food" meaning - clean out the fridge of leftovers or whatever else you feel like finding around the house. So yes, I, bzmomkfor cooked dinner tonight! Mark your calendars, it may just become an annual event - maybe.
Well good day Dear Readers, have a blessed day, for today I wish you satisfying, holiday-worthy dining.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
In Honor of National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week:
September 10-16 is National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week. September is Pain Awareness Month. So, in honor of this, as if I don't tell y'all enough already, I submit these 2 views of my life:
WAKING LIFE
Deplenished REM sleep takes its toll on cognitive function, memory skills are lowered & clumsiness elevated. Medications to combat Chronic Fatigue Syndrome & Fibromyalgia Syndrome often have side effects which worsen these already problematic routine functions, as well as lower response time and cause drowsiness. It is a vicious circle. I trade off these functions, these abilities, or lack there of, in hopes of combating pain. This is my life - I hold on to railing, careful & mindful of each stair step I take so as not to fall. Driving is out of the question unless I forgo the medicines and deal with the pain. The pain makes me more tense & irritable. knowing I'm more irritable upsets me & makes me more tense, this all adds to heightened pain, stiffness, fatigue. I try to get by & be as kind as possible, maybe accomplish something. It all drains me, making me so overwhelmingly tired. Then, the time comes for the project of attempting sleep. This is my life & that of many others with Fibromyalgia Syndrome & Chronic Fatigue Syndrome-welcome.
The Fine Art of Napping
It is my firm belief that it is to the American culture's detriment that we have not embraced the concept of napping. Be it a 15-20 minute power nap or a 30-60 minute siesta, there are many benefits to be had by resting one's body & mind for a bit.
As an "olympic-gold-medal-equivalent-napper" I am often viewed as lazy. The truth of the matter is - I am working very hard! I lay down & have to be in just the right position, I have to move a pillow between my knees to reduce tension on my hip. I have to have a pillow next to me for my arm to drape across & not pull too much. I then have to make myself aware of my body's alignment, being hypermobile it is easy to unknowingly contort into a position which will cause more strain on my body later. The next step is to deploy any & all relaxation steps in my arsenal. I work very hard at being aware of where various tension spots in my body are while lying in as comfortable of a position as possible. If my neck is stiff or hurting I need to know if I've over-extended it for example. Then there is the Restless Leg Syndrome to deal with. Then there is the restless leg syndrome to deal with. I try to taper my movement down from my leg to just my feet, to just my toes, from there I work on letting my mind be free from association of the movement at all. Breathing techniques are now used. Deep cleansing breath in as I imagine myself lilting upward, free of any weights - physical or emotional. I picture "blue sky days" & gently, slowly exhale all the built up pains & Tensions & Worries, allowing them to fall away from me. This process repeats with further cleansing breaths & visualization of "blue sky days" until I no longer have to think about it at all. I'm resting ever so gently on a fluffy white cloud. I am safe here, I am comforted, I am finally relaxed.
As you can see it is quite a process! But it helps rejuvenate me. Considering that during the night when most people get their REM sleep & muscles rebuild, we who suffer Fibromyalgia & Chronic Fatigue & Restless Leg Syndrome wake up in pain - naps are necessary. Despite our best efforts at becoming comfortable we now must reposition ourselves because the pain is too great, it has awoken us from blissful slumber, taunting us to see if we can get back to sleep again. moving all the pillows about, stretching to help stave off the Restless Leg Syndrome, hoping my bad hip will allow me to lay on it - just for a little while. Again with the leg / feet fidgeting, again realigning the body, again sighing with frustration at this all too familiar situation. My mind buzzes, fully awake. Do I get up? If so, what do I do without waking the other 8 people, 2 dogs & 2 parrots in the house? If I get up am I starting a bad habit? I've found the answer is an unequivicable, undeniable yes - my internal clock then auto-wakes me at roughly the same time the next night, expecting to get up -again. So now I must work even harder to be comfortable, to quiet my legs & my mind & to drift back to sleep. I work very hard to be able to sleep, as you've just been given insgiht to. And, if you can now understand how difficult it is to sleep when one has FMS, CFS, RLS, imagine how difficult waking life is!
Be Blessed Dear Readers & be aware that people who "look fine" are not always fine, many suffer invisible illnesses & deal with eye-rolls & glares & even being told "get over it" which would never happen if we had something you could see.
My Red Cape Lost At The Cleaners
Now mind you Dear Readers, my cape is at the cleaners due to lint & dust-bunny build up, not from stains obtained in rugged in-battle use. Lost at the cleaners, yes, probably they are trying to sew together holes worn in it from moths. Yup, you got it, I am a lackadaisical Non-Super-mom/wife/human-being.
From time to time I am faced with a question: "Do I make a difference?" I would love to be one of those dynamic women with a revered career & a super mom. In another lifetime ago I did have such a career, I volunteered at my children's school one day a week after working 4 10 hour days. I was a member of Soroptimist, etc. but like I said, that was another lifetime ago. So, what about this lifetime, the last decade? What's happened? I no longer enthusiastically do crafts with my kids on a regular basis, I sometimes beg their older siblings or my niece to take them to the park in my place, I don't even volunteer a half day a week in spite of not working a job at all. It isn't that I don't want to do these things, it's that for one reason or another I am no longer capable of many of these things. So, are we, as human beings, defined for who we are, or what we do? Is it a question of "What do you want to do with your life?" or one of "What do you want to be?" I think we incorrectly ask the latter when we mean the former. If it were "What do I want to be" I would have to answer happy, well adjusted, healthy & in a good & respectful, loving relationship if possible.
I would love it if my house would be impeccably neat, tidy & spotlessly cleaned at all times. My animals would be perfectly groomed & cared for. My children & I would learn foreign languages together just for fun & even the parrot would catch on. I'd fix delicious meals which never required opening a box or packet or frozen package & our menu would delightfully vary from one yummy meal to the next, rotating so as not to repeat within the same month. Dinner conversation with the whole family - or as close as possible' would lilt through the dining room with laughter mingled in. Unexpected strays dragged home by teenagers would always be a welcome addition & there'd always be enough food & room at the table. my houseplants would abound throughout our home & flourish without being silk fakes. My yard would always be weed free & beautiful due to my enjoyment of working in it. My car would be immaculately clean & organized, as would be my purse - outfitted to be prepared for any occasion & always matching my outfits while being seasonally appropriate. My children would not be pushed or forced into sport participation or various other activities, but would do the ones which interested them with our spare time filled as mentioned previously. I would go on bike rides with them & learn to ice skate with them & so on.
I want desperately to be this person! To be respected & admired by family, friends, community & strangers alike. To donate time/services & goods to various charitable organizations as well as make it to church more than once a year. I want to be this person or even just 1/10th of what this person is...but I am not & I have no hope of achieving it. I would settle for keeping our bills paid on time, being able to walk down my stairs to my mailbox pain free & find something other than collection notices or past-due warnings. I had previously prided myself on my lone independence & strength but those qualities are all but distant memories now. My older children don't remember the "healthy" me & what all I did. My younger children have only known the unhealthy me. The mother who hides under the covers, sometimes crying, wanting to scream to the heavens for a chance to be the mother who does so much more. More than lying on a heating pad filled with medication, calling it a great victory if I carry my laundry basket up & down the stairs. I want to be the person who can lift a milk jug out of the fridge without dislocating my wrist.
I'm tired, so very tired. Tired of being misunderstood. Tired of my health insurance company denying everything possible when we pay such outrageously high rates. I'm tired of mustering an unbelievable amount of willpower just to get dressed & pick up my 3 1/2 year old for a hug. Tired of feeling like I've just done 3 rounds of a major workout when I 1st wake up in the morning. Tired of feeling like I've been beaten with baseball bats while I ran a tread climber with 20 pound weights strapped to each leg & arm. Tired of not living up to others' expectations nor my own.
What do I contribute? My medicine co-pays could buy more groceries which we are low on, yet another humiliation. If I wasn't here, since I don't really see how I make a difference anyway, I would be 1 less mouth to feed, 1 less person to have to roll eyes at & shake heads accusing me of being phony when I'm happy to see company of any sort since most don't care to deal with me & my laundry list of problems. Are they right? Am I just crazy? I don't know, I just know I'm less than who I really am. That realization alone hurts to no end.
Maybe all this pain & angst is to propel me into motion somehow, to creatively deal with the laundry list of problems & moth riddled, dust-bunny collector that my "red cape" has become. If so, I pray this propulsion comes soon. A friend of mine mentioned to me in an email how things in life can come at us in waves, just ride it out. Rather than picturing a svelte woman in an awesomely fashionable wetsuit with matching surfboard carving up a wave, I picture myself more as Shamu, but what can I say, I do make a splash of one sort or another don't I? Maybe that is yet another problem to add to the list.
Well Dear Readers, my dusty, moth holed cape & I are seeking a jet-propulsion pack to launch us into productivity that makes a difference-maybe today, that will be walking my own stairs without gritting my teeth in pain & hanging on to the railing, maybe something more grand, like pushing my 3 younger boys on the tire swing, who knows? I wish you a bit of mystery as to what awaits you on your red-cape ride of life & to be blessed by whomever your higher power may be.
From time to time I am faced with a question: "Do I make a difference?" I would love to be one of those dynamic women with a revered career & a super mom. In another lifetime ago I did have such a career, I volunteered at my children's school one day a week after working 4 10 hour days. I was a member of Soroptimist, etc. but like I said, that was another lifetime ago. So, what about this lifetime, the last decade? What's happened? I no longer enthusiastically do crafts with my kids on a regular basis, I sometimes beg their older siblings or my niece to take them to the park in my place, I don't even volunteer a half day a week in spite of not working a job at all. It isn't that I don't want to do these things, it's that for one reason or another I am no longer capable of many of these things. So, are we, as human beings, defined for who we are, or what we do? Is it a question of "What do you want to do with your life?" or one of "What do you want to be?" I think we incorrectly ask the latter when we mean the former. If it were "What do I want to be" I would have to answer happy, well adjusted, healthy & in a good & respectful, loving relationship if possible.
I would love it if my house would be impeccably neat, tidy & spotlessly cleaned at all times. My animals would be perfectly groomed & cared for. My children & I would learn foreign languages together just for fun & even the parrot would catch on. I'd fix delicious meals which never required opening a box or packet or frozen package & our menu would delightfully vary from one yummy meal to the next, rotating so as not to repeat within the same month. Dinner conversation with the whole family - or as close as possible' would lilt through the dining room with laughter mingled in. Unexpected strays dragged home by teenagers would always be a welcome addition & there'd always be enough food & room at the table. my houseplants would abound throughout our home & flourish without being silk fakes. My yard would always be weed free & beautiful due to my enjoyment of working in it. My car would be immaculately clean & organized, as would be my purse - outfitted to be prepared for any occasion & always matching my outfits while being seasonally appropriate. My children would not be pushed or forced into sport participation or various other activities, but would do the ones which interested them with our spare time filled as mentioned previously. I would go on bike rides with them & learn to ice skate with them & so on.
I want desperately to be this person! To be respected & admired by family, friends, community & strangers alike. To donate time/services & goods to various charitable organizations as well as make it to church more than once a year. I want to be this person or even just 1/10th of what this person is...but I am not & I have no hope of achieving it. I would settle for keeping our bills paid on time, being able to walk down my stairs to my mailbox pain free & find something other than collection notices or past-due warnings. I had previously prided myself on my lone independence & strength but those qualities are all but distant memories now. My older children don't remember the "healthy" me & what all I did. My younger children have only known the unhealthy me. The mother who hides under the covers, sometimes crying, wanting to scream to the heavens for a chance to be the mother who does so much more. More than lying on a heating pad filled with medication, calling it a great victory if I carry my laundry basket up & down the stairs. I want to be the person who can lift a milk jug out of the fridge without dislocating my wrist.
I'm tired, so very tired. Tired of being misunderstood. Tired of my health insurance company denying everything possible when we pay such outrageously high rates. I'm tired of mustering an unbelievable amount of willpower just to get dressed & pick up my 3 1/2 year old for a hug. Tired of feeling like I've just done 3 rounds of a major workout when I 1st wake up in the morning. Tired of feeling like I've been beaten with baseball bats while I ran a tread climber with 20 pound weights strapped to each leg & arm. Tired of not living up to others' expectations nor my own.
What do I contribute? My medicine co-pays could buy more groceries which we are low on, yet another humiliation. If I wasn't here, since I don't really see how I make a difference anyway, I would be 1 less mouth to feed, 1 less person to have to roll eyes at & shake heads accusing me of being phony when I'm happy to see company of any sort since most don't care to deal with me & my laundry list of problems. Are they right? Am I just crazy? I don't know, I just know I'm less than who I really am. That realization alone hurts to no end.
Maybe all this pain & angst is to propel me into motion somehow, to creatively deal with the laundry list of problems & moth riddled, dust-bunny collector that my "red cape" has become. If so, I pray this propulsion comes soon. A friend of mine mentioned to me in an email how things in life can come at us in waves, just ride it out. Rather than picturing a svelte woman in an awesomely fashionable wetsuit with matching surfboard carving up a wave, I picture myself more as Shamu, but what can I say, I do make a splash of one sort or another don't I? Maybe that is yet another problem to add to the list.
Well Dear Readers, my dusty, moth holed cape & I are seeking a jet-propulsion pack to launch us into productivity that makes a difference-maybe today, that will be walking my own stairs without gritting my teeth in pain & hanging on to the railing, maybe something more grand, like pushing my 3 younger boys on the tire swing, who knows? I wish you a bit of mystery as to what awaits you on your red-cape ride of life & to be blessed by whomever your higher power may be.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Flooding
About a year ago the nearby lake swelled to such proportions that it broke the dike, flooded across the roadway and overtook a sunken marshy area on the other side. For some time the road was closed off only available for one way traffic until enough manpower had contained the flooded area sufficiently to reopen the road. The consensus was to leave the dike breached and the re-claimed farmland was now re-re-claimed lake bed. So is the case on the other side of the road where the sunken marshy area had been as well. There is a partially protruding, large piece of farm equipment standing as a lone testament to what happened just a year ago. Otherwise, all looks to be "normal" - the water looks like it is suppose to be where it is now, the road has large concrete barriers protecting it supposedly in case of further attempts to flood overboard.
For some reason, i recently felt a connection to the lone, rusting piece of farm equipment which lay all but forgotten in the midst of it's watery grave. It had once been useful, of value, now, it lay decomposing, rotting, still, doing nothing. Maybe its stance provided a memory of its former glory to other passersby, like it did for me. Had I ever been able to make someone fully appreciate my former glory? Not likely.
Later that same day I experienced a flood of a different sort. While not one of water, but of emotion and memory, it seemed just as powerful, if not more so. I had to take my 6 year old for a sleep deprived EEG to check for absence seizure disorder. It was in the same place I had to take his little brother to check for cystic fibrosis with a sweat-test. Both children had, at their individual tests, cooperated fully and been amazingly wonderful-what troopers! However, something about seeing my underweight 6 year old with a skull-cap full of cameras and wiring was overpowering to me. it reminded me of when he was born and in the nursery for 10 days at our local hospital before being air-life-flown to this hospital. I had learned with grace & skill how to hold him with all the wiring attached & the oxygen tube. It had seemed oddly easy to hold him without all the various machines hooked to him. He had weighed over 8 pounds at birth and was made to loose weight to help him breathe better. now, he's just a little stick boy. I had tried so hard to deny those memories, to push them out and now here they all were kicking me in the teeth again - six years later. It was very creepy to feel so helpless, to view my son through the eyes of someone only seeing the medical problems or apparatuses, rather than seeing with the love of a mother who can see past all that to the child within. I was so thankful to get him unhooked and awake, to leave, to receive such a good report afterward. Praise God!
Then we made our way past the "flood zone" again to find our way back home. Once there the letdown, the meltdown, the "God I need a nap & to forget we just did all this" occurred. Finally, an anxiety medication helped combat that emotional flood and sweet, blessed, glorious sleep followed.
Just two days before all of this my teenage daughter came to spend the night and go boating with us the next day. She let me hold her which is no small thing. I was able to stroke her hair, to wipe her tears to share our pains in a cathartic release, to embrace her and remind her she always had a home in our house and in our hearts. She is moved back in now! That was a flood of emotion and triumph and answered prayers right there as well. So, excuse, please Dear Readers, this water-logged entry, which has little or nothing to do with water at all. But, as you can see, I've been experiencing flooding all week. I'm luckily feeling like I have a life preserver to hang onto with one hand and the other hand free to help maneuver me about the deep and sometimes murky waters/emotions of life. I wish you the same life preserver Dear Readers, be blessed!
For some reason, i recently felt a connection to the lone, rusting piece of farm equipment which lay all but forgotten in the midst of it's watery grave. It had once been useful, of value, now, it lay decomposing, rotting, still, doing nothing. Maybe its stance provided a memory of its former glory to other passersby, like it did for me. Had I ever been able to make someone fully appreciate my former glory? Not likely.
Later that same day I experienced a flood of a different sort. While not one of water, but of emotion and memory, it seemed just as powerful, if not more so. I had to take my 6 year old for a sleep deprived EEG to check for absence seizure disorder. It was in the same place I had to take his little brother to check for cystic fibrosis with a sweat-test. Both children had, at their individual tests, cooperated fully and been amazingly wonderful-what troopers! However, something about seeing my underweight 6 year old with a skull-cap full of cameras and wiring was overpowering to me. it reminded me of when he was born and in the nursery for 10 days at our local hospital before being air-life-flown to this hospital. I had learned with grace & skill how to hold him with all the wiring attached & the oxygen tube. It had seemed oddly easy to hold him without all the various machines hooked to him. He had weighed over 8 pounds at birth and was made to loose weight to help him breathe better. now, he's just a little stick boy. I had tried so hard to deny those memories, to push them out and now here they all were kicking me in the teeth again - six years later. It was very creepy to feel so helpless, to view my son through the eyes of someone only seeing the medical problems or apparatuses, rather than seeing with the love of a mother who can see past all that to the child within. I was so thankful to get him unhooked and awake, to leave, to receive such a good report afterward. Praise God!
Then we made our way past the "flood zone" again to find our way back home. Once there the letdown, the meltdown, the "God I need a nap & to forget we just did all this" occurred. Finally, an anxiety medication helped combat that emotional flood and sweet, blessed, glorious sleep followed.
Just two days before all of this my teenage daughter came to spend the night and go boating with us the next day. She let me hold her which is no small thing. I was able to stroke her hair, to wipe her tears to share our pains in a cathartic release, to embrace her and remind her she always had a home in our house and in our hearts. She is moved back in now! That was a flood of emotion and triumph and answered prayers right there as well. So, excuse, please Dear Readers, this water-logged entry, which has little or nothing to do with water at all. But, as you can see, I've been experiencing flooding all week. I'm luckily feeling like I have a life preserver to hang onto with one hand and the other hand free to help maneuver me about the deep and sometimes murky waters/emotions of life. I wish you the same life preserver Dear Readers, be blessed!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Sleepwalking
My 6 year old frequently ends up on our couch sometime during the course of the night. Sometimes he has his own blanket, sometimes not. I've asked him if he remembers coming out to the couch, he often looks confused and then blankly answers yes, although I'm not sure he really does. My teenage daughter has also awoken to find herself in the middle of our stairway and other odd places. I myself have been semi-asleep and eaten a bowl of cereal in the dark then gone back to bed. I've read articles about sleep being the new "sex" for newly wed couples, too tired from a too busy life..
It has all made me wonder how many of us sleepwalk through life on a daily basis? I think I personally have slept or been sleepwalking through more of my life than I care to admit. Be it due to prescription medication, chronic illnesses, addictions of one form or another or just out of sheer boredom with our lives.
What if we all decided to wake up? What if we no longer navigated our way through life on auto-pilot? What if we actually took in all our surroundings, actually noticed the homeless man walking on the street, the rainbow emerging after the downpour, the breeze on our face, and so on? Wouldn't our lives be so much fuller? I think we are missing out on a lot. By playing it safe and obediently bowing to the alarm clock and the time card and the expectations of society we are turning a deaf ear to the alarm clock of our soul and of our heart's desires. Am I suggesting quitting your only source of income to devout your entire life to paper mache? No, not necessarily. I just mean, don't ignore that desire completely, being so busy sleepwalking your way through the normal expectations of life. Take time to open your eyes, see and experience what is around you and to react to it with more than just a customary nod.
Dear Readers, today I wish you blessings that you may open yourself to discovering, I wish you less time sleepwalking and more time heart-n-soul-fulfilling. Be blessed.
It has all made me wonder how many of us sleepwalk through life on a daily basis? I think I personally have slept or been sleepwalking through more of my life than I care to admit. Be it due to prescription medication, chronic illnesses, addictions of one form or another or just out of sheer boredom with our lives.
What if we all decided to wake up? What if we no longer navigated our way through life on auto-pilot? What if we actually took in all our surroundings, actually noticed the homeless man walking on the street, the rainbow emerging after the downpour, the breeze on our face, and so on? Wouldn't our lives be so much fuller? I think we are missing out on a lot. By playing it safe and obediently bowing to the alarm clock and the time card and the expectations of society we are turning a deaf ear to the alarm clock of our soul and of our heart's desires. Am I suggesting quitting your only source of income to devout your entire life to paper mache? No, not necessarily. I just mean, don't ignore that desire completely, being so busy sleepwalking your way through the normal expectations of life. Take time to open your eyes, see and experience what is around you and to react to it with more than just a customary nod.
Dear Readers, today I wish you blessings that you may open yourself to discovering, I wish you less time sleepwalking and more time heart-n-soul-fulfilling. Be blessed.
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