Coffee, Tea or...what?

I'm out of coffee filters, so this morning I turned to my calming, caring soothing English Breakfast tea.  It made me think of Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer responding to an inquiry about why he was drinking coffee, as he was English, shouldn't he be drinking tea?  "Tea is soothing," he responded, "I wish to be tense."  Ain't it the truth?

At my age, with my stomach, I think coffee is just the same to me as the men I was attracted to when I was in my twenties - when we're together it's dark savory sexy fun...but a few hours later I'm full of remorse with a stomach ache and a headache to boot.  You try to sweeten him up, with syrup and milk and foam - but you aren't really going to change him.  At the end of the day you still have no comfort that he's any damn good for you.  

Tea on the other hand, is rather like the boys I tried to like, but somehow never captured my imagination.  Tea is tender and kind, it lets you call the shots and honestly getting a good cup is a relatively easy endeavor...just add a little hot water and the proper amount of time.  Teas come in many varieties, citrus and woody, spicy or tart.There are all sorts of naturally healthy teas.  A good cup of tea always takes good care of you when you're sick. I should want to drink tea. I want to want to drink tea.  But when I wake up groggy and looking for satisfaction, I can't even remember Tea's name until I'm at the bottom of my third cup of Cafe Bustelo.  And by that time I'm swearing off these damn hot morning drinks forever.  Forever, do you hear me?  I'm going to get right with myself and just drink water for the rest of my life. 

Because that's really going to happen.

Of course, maybe I'll finally break up with coffee for good and all. He'll find some cup bearer who isn't hung up on creamer,  or doesn't complain about needing Zantac to get through the day and I'll find a nice decaf herbal tea to settle down with.  I spent some time with really nice Lemon & Ginger tea recently. Maybe I'll invite him over for brunch this weekend. 

Where I've been...

Well.

Hi, how are you? Me? I'm struggling still. It took me about a month and a near nervous breakdown to realized that I needed to take the same tact with my own depression issues, that I have with my son's...that medication isn't a sign of weakness, it is simply caring for myself. It was a hard paradigm shift for me, which makes me that much happier that I could make the decision for him at such a young age, rather than leaving it to him to figure out in a hard way like I have. One day my best friend, who also happens to be my sister said "Remember when you told me how you wouldn't hesitate to give him the medication he needed if he was diabetic, so why should this condition be any different? So, tell me why YOU are different?" And you know she's right.

If you haven't guessed, this is my excuse for being lame and not writing. I've had a hard time forcing myself to do much more than is required but I'm taking quite a few nutritional supplements and have a doctor's appointment scheduled. The supplements seem to be helping quite a bit, as long as I remember to take them. I tank out when I forget. But I've had some interesting experiences, so I'm going to spend some time today telling you about them. Sorry for the hit and miss posting. Maybe one day soon I'll get myself on a nice schedule. :)

Looking forward to:

Just thought I'd post a quick list. Looking forward is obviously an active dare, so I'll have to keep you posted. (smiles all around)

1. Seeing my boys tonight. I always miss them while they are at their dad's.
2. I just signed up to facilitate a small group at my church. Small Group Ministry is one of the coolest things in which I've ever participated, but I've been out of it for two years. Finding a group whose meeting times coincide with my parenting schedule has been challenging. I figured the only way to do it was to facilitate a group on MY schedule.
3. I'm going to start planning a vacation for fall break with my boys. October is just around the corner.

I dare you to look forward.

I think we are all on the quest for one thing, the same thing. There are many paths there and many paths that look promising, and how each of us get there, or not, is entirely up to us. Of course I'm talking about happiness. Our constitution in this country promises the right to pursue it, but that is as close as anyone will ever get to handing it to us. The rest, my friends, is up to us.

I've been watching a movie made in the 90'a that features two of my favorite actors, Robert Duvall and James Earl Jones, A Family Thing. They give fantastic performances in a story steeped in old bitter race frustrations and how they played out in one family. The writing is wonderful and it is worth seeing, if you haven't lo these many years later. But one line stuck with me today, and I'm sad that it hasn't stuck in my head like so many other things. Earl tells his nephew a simple story of a simple man who had a hard life and lived for doing something sweet for his family. And when asked about his hard luck he finally told Earl, "Being happy ain't nothin' but havin' something to look forward to." Earl goes on to tell his nephew that looking back at what he's lost will only cause him pain, and that he needs to find something, anything no matter how simple to look forward to, and continues that he has two little girls to whom he owes something to anticipate in life.

Wow. I can wax philosophic about my history with the best of them, but in the end, it is just history. I do know that when I have something, anything to get ready for everything has more depth and color and and meaning. And who wouldn't want to give that to the people you love?

So this week, I dare you to give yourself something to look forward to. Make it small, make it big, but make it matter. Make a date with an old friend who you love and miss. See a movie that you've been wanting to see for ages. Plan a tea party with your kids. Plan a trip to Greece. Plan a trip to your favorite coffee shop. Plan and anticipate. I dare you.

Harder than I thought...

So did you do it? Did you pick a label or two or a handful to challenge in the last week or so? I had a hard time even facing my labels, and then deciding that I could challenge them. So no one said I was going to be good at this. I just want to keep trying. Well I don't want to be all negative in your face, but what I'm really working on challenging is a phrase that plagues me. Some people who know me might be surprised that this is one that I struggle with, but I have to be honest and say it is the ugliest truth about my self image and the the thing that needs the most challenging.

Hopelessly Disorganized Loser

Sad, isn't it? A three word phrase that encompasses three of the most negative words I can think of. Of course hopeless and loser, well those are pretty self explanatory. Disorganized, sure not perfect, but is that such a sad state of affairs? Well I personally see it as the key to success or failure in life, organizing your thoughts, your affairs, your time and your feelings. And I've just not been terribly successful at managing many of these things. And lets face it, for a person making a living as an accounting professional, it is a downright embarrassing thing to admit that you struggle with it.

But in the last few weeks, I've learned that I am, in fact only those things in my mind. I have taken to reminding myself how successful I have been in navigating the rocky terrain of my life. No, I'm not as skilled as some, but honestly, I wasn't given a lot of these skills as a child, I had to figure them out for myself, which handicapped me. In rethinking how I view myself on this front, it effortlessly flowed into thinking about the fact that a person who has accomplished so much with so little could not possibly be a loser...as a matter of fact quite the opposite was true. But the real key, the one I will have to work on daily, probably for my whole life is in that first little word. Hopeless. On the days I allow myself to be defined by that word, all hope for further success, new accomplishments is stripped from me. On the days that I actively, with love, choose hope, all things are possible. I know that the pragmatist in me holds me back some days. Perhaps another label I need to challenge? Perhaps I need to focus some energy on being a dreamer or an idealist and see where that takes me.

Did you take up arms against some of your negative labels? Did you find some interesting ideas stuck away in your head for safekeeping by the optimist who lives there? Tell me.

What's in a name? Let's find out.

I looked through the dares one at a time. Some of them scare me senseless, which is probably good. Some of them I think I'm not ready for. Some of them I don't think I really need...which probably means I really do need to look at them harder. This is all to say, I didn't know which dare to pick first. And while a favorite or two stuck out at me, I thought it best to let the fickle finger of fate pick where I would start. So www.random.org helped me pick out this very special dare for our very first one. I think it's a good one. Are you ready?

"Dare To Not Label Yourself"

Now I'm not going to share all the wisdom Natasha Kogan gives us in her book. But the basic idea is right out there...we all label ourselves in ways that are limiting, self-depreciating, or simply not helpful. The fact is, we can choose to shed those labels. My challenge for you, and me too, is to pick three labels you've given yourself and challenge them this week. I'll see you soon. MUAH.

Take a ride with me. I dare you.

Back in the summer of spending every moment of time I might actually have to face myself trying to make friends with with anyone who would talk to me on the Internets (as long as they were women who had children and didn't have any interest in setting me up with someone) I happened upon a website one day. I wish I could remember how I got there, but somethings are just supposed to happen. This website is a promotional site for author Natasha Kogan's book The Daring Female's Guide to Ecstatic Living. I adored the concept of this book and I wrote to the author right away with the intent of starting an online "Daring Circle" with my Myspace girlfriends and they were eager too. Natasha sent me a free book, and because I wanted her to get something out of it from me, I encouraged all my friends to buy one, and bought one for my first friend who issued me a really good dare. My friend Cyndi won that challenge and I blissfully sent her one in the mail along with a box of goodies for "BARK bags" for her kids. And we really tried, but school started again and everyone kind of floated off in different directions and our circle bottomed out before we really even got started.

This spring, Cyndi's life met some unexpected changes...changes that would have set most of us on our ears. Cyn's bounce back obviously awed not only me, but everyone who knows her. About two weeks later she was telling me on the phone about lunching with a co-worker who has gone through her own messy divorce and she was revelling in Cyn's bounce-back factor. "How do you do that?" she nearly sobbed on Cyn's shoulder. Cyndi told me she went home and pulled this book off the shelf and re-read the note I'd written to her..."Pay it forward, girlfriend." And so she took it to her friend and told her to get daring.

And in doing so, she did the same for me. I went upstairs that night and started digging through my books. I found it fast and I carried it around for a few weeks before I really even looked at it again. But now I know...it's time to get daring. My life is ready for it.

I'm inviting you down this daring road with me, and if you come I'll feel like I'll finally be paying up my promise to Natasha to start a daring circle. But whether you ride along or just spectate, or maybe a little of both, I promise nothing, except maybe something to laugh about or something to cry about, hopefully something that makes us feel alive.

I'll be sharing some of the dares from Kogan's book (which I think you should buy for yourself...you'll love it). And I'll endeavor to dare myself to do them, and report back to you the results. You can share, or not. Send me email's or comments, or blog them yourself.

Dare #1 coming up shortly. See you there.

It's about time

"Hey Ei, you've been awfully quiet, whatcha been up to?"

I cocked my head and thought about it for a moment. I thought about telling her about how blissfully uneventful my summer had been, how I'd been spending a lot of time reflecting on who I am and what I'm doing with my life, how unhappy I've been with the answers and yet lacking the resolve to change them. I thought about telling her how I'm actually caught up on laundry, but the rest of lives has been slipping away. I considered saying a whole lot more. But the visual of having to call a paramedic to summon her from a coma after bearing my soul to her was pretty painful. So I smiled and shrugged, "Y'know. Kids." Her eyes flicker with recognition. She doesn't have any kids. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Two years ago I found myself wandering familiar terrain, single life, with a whole new set of rules...children, an ex-husband, an aging post childbearing body, and very little curiosity for anything left. At the time a friend told me that the hardest part would be when all the loving kind support I'd received had gone home and tucked in, when the children settled down, and I had to actually look it all in the eye. That took longer than I expected, but that's where I've been. Well, I've been there for awhile. The distractions of life have been plentiful...and my own mad skills at avoidance, well they are pretty amazing.

But more and more lately, I am reminded that I have a long life in front of me, and as much as I love my children, making my life about them would set us all up for frustration...me, them, and certainly their father and the people in his new life. The thing is, my kids are making remarkable progress, growing and stretching in their lives now. They'll always have a hole in their hearts for what they have lost, but now is the time for them both to flex the muscles they've gained from the hard work of recovering. And maybe it is time for me to start too.

Damn it. Didn't want to be sappy. Sorry it is a habit I'll have to work on.

So there is step one of having a weird, quiet, good, moody summer. Admitting you have a problem. Step two is figuring out what to do about it. There isn't a local chapter of "I Got a Divorce and Never Quite Got Around to Getting a Life Anonymous." I don't do bars (thankfully). I don't have all consuming hobbies. I could, I suppose look at all this as a failure. I'm choosing instead to look at it as a blank slate to be filled with beauty and thought. And it's all mine. Let's do this thing.

What Father's Day means to me

My whole association with the rite of Father's day is a little, um, skewed I suppose. As a child, I purposefully became "ill" so as not to have to attend day camp on the day they made Father's day gifts, I "forgot" announcements about father daughter teas, terrified that my mom would decide she should stand in, or worse yet, that she would send my grandfather. In my married days, I tried to really do something MANLY for my then husband on Father's day...neglecting the fact that I really know nothing about what constitutes acceptably manly versus stereotypically manly and I'm a poor organizer anyway. But hey I tried, and it is the thought that counts, right? Well, mainly it's the thought...for most people, anyway.

Since becoming a single mom, I've been back to rather wanting to hide away from father's day activities. But today I volunteered to help out with children's programming at church. We sat in a circle on the floor and we "lit" our chalice (a lovely little battery operated tea light) and as ever, our children let us glimpse their lives by telling us their joys and concerns. There was the usual assortments of birthdays being celebrated, grandparents coming to visit, doggies who were lost and found, and this week some stories of bailing out the basement. We came to the serious little blond girl sitting in the sitting in the corner. She frowned as she thought about what she wanted to say, "It's Father's Day," she sniffled, "but my daddy is in Iraq so he doesn't get to have a Father's Day." Her daddy, is in fact one of the nicest men I've ever met and it hurt my heart to see his little girl so obviously missing him. How different it made me feel. It made me remember that Father's Day, and Mother's Day too, is really more about the children.

It was brought to my attention some time ago that Mother's Day as it was introduced by Julia Ward Howe in 1870, had little to do with moms sleeping in or getting jewelery, or having a spa day. It had nothing to do with moms being appreciated at all...it was instead a call to action, a call to mothers to use their maternal voices for peace.

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.

Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

It has occurred to me that Father's Day was really just created as a "Me too" holiday, someone thought that what was good for the goose was good for the gander...and so it all is really just an extension of my UU fore mother's call for peace. The only thing any good mother can do in honor of Father's Day is to be a good mother. Continue to fight for the good of our children, which always includes their fathers...the ones who wake up and honor you on Mother's Day and the ones who don't, the ones who build go-carts, and the ones who build character. Father's day is about making sure that kids have dads to go round with, not about ties or barbecue grills. And also about the sacrifices we all make to make sure that can happen. Father's day isn't about gifting a father with a manly day, it is about gifting a child with a father, for every day. Thank goodness for Father's Day.

Can you feel it?

Oh yeah...Loving Day. I just love that story. I mean could they have had a better name? Sigh. Well yeah, I know, I'm not the worlds biggest proponent of ANY marriage, but I think it is a personal choice you should be allowed to make (oh STOP it, I'm joking...mostly). But I wanted to take a moment first to say, I tried yesterday to post a few THOUGHTS about Loving Day but Blogger ate my post, so I ended up quickly just posting the nice little blurb my friend Becky gave me. Not even with the way cool picture of Mr. & Mrs. Loving.

The reason I had no time is...well...if you haven't heard, we've had a little rain here in Central Iowa. I was out filling sand bags with my coworkers for fun, just in case we had a repeat of what happened in 1993. Luckily, so far, that has been just busy work. And hey, I have something new to add to my resume (although I don't think my impatient boss will be giving me any recommendations based on my skills in this area.) Anyway, I just wanted to take a minute to remind you that the battle that Mildred and Richard Loving fought in 1967, the year before my birth, made lots of happy couples whom I adore possible today (not to mention, assisted in making possible two little people whom I love desperately). I also wanted to remind you that there are many of our fellow citizens out there who are desperate to marry someone (don't ask me why!) and it is not legal for them to do so. Don't let the battle end with the Lovings.

So that's my soap-box portion of the evening. I would like to tell you that my day was all kinds of Love Thursday magic, but that wasn't in the cards for me, so instead I'll leave you with Elton John...because I've had this song stuck in my head for days.

Tomorrow is Loving Day

What is Loving Day?Loving Day is an educational community project. The name comes from Loving v. Virginia (1967), the landmark Supreme Court decision that legalized interracial marriage in the United States. Loving Day celebrations commemorate the anniversary of the Loving decision every year on or around June 12th.Learn more about the landmark case and Loving Day here.

Expect...what?

The interesting thing about having a child with a disability, or probably dealing with any of life's challenges, I suppose, is that it crystallizes your inner struggles or weaknesses and holds them up to the end of your nose so that you can look at them....really see them.

The idea that's been following me around lately is that I have so many problems keeping realistic expectations for my son. I can slide up and down the spectrum from having ridiculous expectations for a kid with his specific issues to having really limiting expectations for a child of his age. The problem isn't recognizing (after the fact of course) that I've had an error in judgement. The problem I have with this is it that I find myself coursing up and down this spectrum in response, trying to dial it in (which is really difficult when "appropriate" expectations can vary from hour to hour with this child) all the while knowing that the one thing I am teaching myself is to doubt my instincts.

As a parent, we are trained to believe that our expectations of our children will set the tone for their entire lives. Expect too much, they will feel set up to fail, unable to ever meet your demands. Expect too little, they will become lazy and complacent and never really know what it takes to reach and try. Ah the pressure! We can make ourselves crazy with our expectations of ourselves regarding the expectations we have of our children. OK, well, maybe that's just me.

The thing is (why is it, I can't type that phrase without thinking I'm ripping off Barb now?) this is just a magnified truth about who I am as a person. I am the woman who agonizes over whether or not I can call a friend at 5:30 because it is too close to dinner time, and again at 8:30 because I don't know when her kids go to bed...and by 3:30 two days later I'm sure she's probably miffed at me for not calling back. (Jotting down my list of psychosis? Gee, blogging is fun.) I struggle with ideas like the Law of Attraction because I consistently monitor how realistic my expectations are, and eventually I end up regulating myself right to the point of envisioning my life just as it is now. I guess I'm trying to say, I'm not an expert at modulating expectations. I'm barely a novice. And I guess I thought I'd be further along by this place in my life. But hey, Steve Pavlina tells me (yes, if you didn't know, all of his blog posts that millions of people read are actually directed at me, everyone else is eavesdropping) that no matter where you think you ought to be, you are where you are, and trying to start somewhere else is just...well...stupid.

So I woke up this morning with the decision to expect nothing, and instead, just follow my gut, with a tender questioning quality at everything I touch. I did some things with my son that some people, maybe even people that have more expertise with children with behavioral disabilities than I might have seen as really lenient. But my son, who is somewhat famous for NOT being a morning person, got out the door with a smile on his face and a soft sweet "I love you, mama." at the door. He also only told his brother to shut up once, which is sort of a miracle. I carried it through later when I dealt with another difficult situation, maybe being more demanding of my other son's day camp director than a lot of parents might have done. But ultimately, she rose to the occasion, and helped me place bigger expectations upon my son, even when she was ready to throw in the towel. But I felt along the way, trying to put my foot in the groove, rather than swinging wildly from one end of the spectrum to another, knowing that the spectrum was doing all the swaying for me.

No, I didn't conquer my expectations in a day...but maybe I did realize that they don't really accomplish as much as I give them credit for anyway. In fact, knowing what they are worth, how much weight to give them, when they come up, that is really the key.

But you probably already knew that. Next I'll be blogging about these crazy kids Dick and Jane and their dog, Spot. He runs you know.

Under my elbow

I never realized how hard it is to type with someone's head jammed under my elbow. It seems like everytime I sit down to work on the computer there is someone's head rammed right up under my elbow.

You never stop learning as a parent. Seriously.

Last Day of school 2008

Last Day of school 2008
Originally uploaded by eijax

Today was the last day of the school year. I can't tell you how relieved I am. It's been a really long year. We had a great evening of lounging and pizza eating, and yes, eventually they got to take their jackets off too. I sure hope it warms up soon, swimming in coats could be uncomfortable.

The Elephant in the Room

There have been a few things that I wanted to blog about lately. Barb wrote a nice piece about being transplanted and how it is hard to grow new roots, which inspired me. But honestly, as eloquent as anything I wrote in my head might have been, I think I've discussed that to death.

Then there was a series of events that inspired me to want to talk about whiny people and wanting what you've got, rather than getting what you want. But I decided I'd probably unintentionally piss off everyone I know because they'd think it was about them. Because we all have a tendency to overlook the big picture when we are hyper-focused on the teeny tiny crap. And maybe complaining about complainers was somehow...wrong.

But more and more I've been wanting to discuss the elephant in the room, not quite knowing how to do it. I tried, badly, not too long ago to blog about what it is like to be the mom of a kid with an undiagnosed Behavioral Disability, or in someone else's terms, a child with Serious Emotional Disturbances. It was written at a stupid time, when I was fragile and frightened and I was angry and upset when people actually tried to HELP me. Well, the thing is, the Internet can not diagnose my son, or I don't think so anyway. We've been seeing professional psychiatrists for a number of years and well...I just trust them more than random posts from well intentioned people who don't know too much about my child. So lesson learned for me. I decided to put that post back under wraps and never ever discuss it again. Ever.

Except...it fills about 90% of my waking thoughts. And it is an elephant that needs to be discussed. This week a little boy with Asperger's made news all over the US, had folks buzzing everywhere when he was voted out of his class with his teacher leading the way. What makes me the saddest about this story is that people seem to think that either the mistreatment of this child can be justified OR that it is somehow an isolated incident. The sad truth is our children, and I'm referring to those of us with kids who have behavioral disabilities, are possibly the only children that it is seen to be normal and needed to punish regularly for their disabilities. What would you think if a child who suffered from epileptic seizures lost all of her playground privileges for weeks at a time after each seizure? What would we think about a child who had cerebral palsy being seated in a corner facing away from the rest of the class, and telling his parents that it is "preferential seating" for his condition? What if our educational system decided that the best way to mitigate a diabetic child going into insulin shock in the classroom was to suspend him each time it happened? This is the kind of thing we as parents of THESE special needs kids deal with on a regular basis. We begin to feel like our lives are being systematically destroyed, but worse yet, we see their future being systematically destroyed. Help is hard to find, hard to navigate and the waiting lists for everything are getting longer.

Parents need to be able to have a voice. We need to not feel like we should be hiding away somewhere, waiting for the next shoe to drop. If my talking out loud about it here will enable even one person somewhere to know that they are not alone and that there is no shame in parenting one of these amazing and exceptional human beings, it is so worth it.

A Lil' Bit O' the Captain

I think I've mentioned before and in numerous ways how blessed I am in the friends department. Thanks to this glorious box I have that lights up when I touch it, I have friends all over the world. Lots of my friends are friends because they are so LIKE me. We giggle madly over silly things we have in common and lament the not so funny things we have in common. But there are others, some really special people who are my friends because we stand and gawk at how different we are from each other, and how it is kind of amazing how well we get along.

One of my very best friends from my box I have known now for about seven years, since her beautiful daughter was just a tiny baby and my eldest was (sob) just toddling. Back in about 2002 we spent a LOT of time chatting on line. I knew amongst her many incredible talents (she is an amazing photographer, a former teacher, a SUPER-mom) she is a writer. It is more than her grasp for mixing words around and making it into a delightful thing to read, it is her ability to dig to try to understand people. There were days while we were chatting that I felt like the star on a Barbra Walters special...because my life experiences actually seemed interesting when I was talking to my girl. The other thing these conversations revealed was that she and I had QUITE a different life experience. In fact, I began to suspect that my newish online friend was actually Mary Poppins undercover. I mean that in a really loving way, but I have to tell you this girl is "practically perfect in every way." She's gorgeous, she has this lovely husband and a perfect beautiful little girl and she seems like she never has done anything stupid. At all. Unlike...erm...anyone else I know.

Which leads me to the reason for this post, one I hope you'll indulge me and her a bit and give us some stories. I like to play online scrabble with this beautiful perfect one. She's a good opponent because she is really smart, and she's also the world's greatest sport, which you know makes playing fun. Anyway, today while playing Scrabble she says to me, "Have you ever been hungover?" She may have heard the snort that came from me, even in the next country to the north, where she lives (that isn't too specific, is it?) She proceeds to tell me that her character in the book she's been working on long and hard is about to wake up with a doozy of hangover wherein some general hilarity can ensue. But there's a little problem...the author hasn't done her research! That's right my Mary Poppins has lived more than 30 some odd years and never ONCE been hung over. She gave me some nonsense about a mortal fear of vomiting, but I know it is because she would never do something that imperfect. I told her I'd share with her some thoughts, but I thought what a good meme idea! Tell Mary Poppins about your worst hangover, send it to me, or link us up in the comments.

I'm buying her a red umbrella as a congratulatory gift when this book hits the shelves.

Crud

I've waited for a week to see both children healthy. I've waited six months for a holiday with them. It was supposed to be their dad's holiday, but he had to work (retail..neener, neener). I planned (shit, there I go again!) getting up for a long walk around our pretty neighborhood and then off to see the new Indiana Jones flick in the afternoon. But...

It started raining about 6:30 last night and by 9:00 we had something truly ugly. The wind whipped and things dropped from the sky. Not the big twisty things, thankfully, but you know, about half of the massive oak in my back yard. Luckily it landed about six feet from my newish car and not quite that far from the house. My trash can wasn't quite so lucky. Of course the children weren't sleeping...and just as the storm started to calm POP...off went all our electricity. I peered nervously from our doorstep to make sure another tree hadn't taken out our individual lines and Mailman Dave who lives two houses to the north assured me that a transformer was out two blocks away. He handed off an extra hand crank lantern that he had just sitting around and patted my two bouncing bundles of nerves that everything would be just fine. Some time later the boys drifted off while I read to them by flashlight. The electricity came on some three hours later which jolted me awake because I honestly had no idea which lights I'd left on.

Needless to say we didn't wake early to meander through our lovely neighborhood. We awoke late, to the magical sounds of chainsaws all around us. I cried a little knowing that my landlord has full intention of felling the entire tree now (what the hell is it with me and trees?) and I took a vow never to love a tree again. Sniff. Then the ex called and said he'd been cut loose early and he was coming to take my boys. So here I am once more. Dammit.

I will not capitulate

Have you ever been at that place where the questions that people ask you start to make you want to scream? You know the questions I'm talking about, right?

"Have you declared a major?"

"Have you met his family?"

"You are switching jobs, again?"

"Well it's all fine and good as a hobby, but don't you want something secure?"

"Really, you can't raise a family in this neighborhood, can you?"

"Are you two 'trying' yet?"

"You know every baby needs a brother or sister, right?"

"You aren't going to try for a girl?"

"Are you really going to go back to work? Doesn't that break your heart?"

I'm sure the list could go on and on. You probably have your own personalized list as long as your arm. It is one of the most blatant ways our society inflicts its expectations upon us, in seemingly benign form of polite conversation. Did any of those questions actually end up putting you on a path upon which you couldn't turn back?

I'm embarrassed to say, all of those questions and many more influenced where I ended up today. I don't know if it is normal or if I suffered from an extreme lack of confidence in my youth, but I think I was desperately seeking direction and acceptance. Somewhere in my heart of hearts I thought that there was some wonderful secret to being "normal" and living happily ever after, and that if I could uncover that formula, I would be part of the ones "in the know." It's funny, my girlfriends and I particularly loved a spoof one similarly delusional girl.

Odd how parody is often lost on those who need it most, isn't it?

So I took these questions as sign posts on my path and I followed them straight down a road that had me on antidepressants, living more or less in a catatonic state, not trusting a single instinct of my own. I plodded dutifully down the path, tripping over branches that I couldn't see, expecting at any moment the path would open into the paradise I'd been struggling toward all these many years.

Instead I found myself plopped right down at the starting line again, or at least something that resembles the starting line...excepting of course that my knees are worse, I have stretch marks a c-section scar, a taste for living with furniture and eating something other than ramen noodles and two bright shiny faces looking at me for their own sign posts. And um, I was pretty sure I was screwed.

It turns out that I wasn't as screwed as I thought I was. In fact, a little do over allowed me to step back and do some evaluation and decide that maybe this time, I would pick my own sign posts. So if you hear someone ask me, "Why aren't you dating yet?" and you hear a sound from me that implies something less than a sincere desire to please the speaker, try not to frown at me too hard. I've gone down that path before. This time, I'm blazing my own.

I can't believe I forgot..

I didn't inform blogland that Emily's arm was saved! She still faces two surgeries on her lungs but she is doing really well. I was thinking about this because my local radio station is doing their annual fundraiser for the Children's Miracle Network and interviewed a local family whose daughter's story was hauntingly familiar, but the little girl lost her arm and ultimately her battle with cancer. It was horrible to hear this mother tenderly recall her daughter's last moments. But I know she hopes like I do that the efforts of fund drives like this will help thousands more kids...kids like Emily. The boys collected coins for the drive this year, we'll be donating them in Em's name.

Yeah, so...

I had plans today, plans about all the stuff I was going to get done at work, plans about the places I was going to run at lunch, plans for the stacks of laundry in my bedroom. That was at 6:45 a.m. At 7:30 am while I was putting on my 'gonna get stuff done today' eyeliner, the phone rang. You know it is never a good thing when the phone rings at 7:30 a.m.

Elyas, his dad informed me, had been throwing up since 5 a.m., "So, what should I do, because I don't think I have anything I can give him..." These are the moments I'm really glad their father doesn't live in the same house anymore because the me I am today would be thunking him on the forehead rather than rolling my eyes behind his back like I did when we were married. So anyway, I had a retching, clinging, unhappy little person attached to my body by 8:05 and I'd sent my regrets to my day and my boss.

We watched a plethora of shows where young children are entirely too excited about backpacks and cameras, we played some educational programs on the computer, and we snuggled. What we didn't do was eat. I tried, but he refused everything. Finally frustrated I said "Honey, what would you eat for Mommy?" I'm such an idiot, I mean really, who does that?

Of course he wanted ice cream and I didn't have any. And I did have to get to the bank today, which long story short, is how I ended up cleaning, well, you know...yuck with the slightest scent of McDonald's chocolate shake tossed in, out of the back seat of my SUV. And while I did get a good amount of laundry done today, um, the pile still sits in my bedroom.

Some days putting on eyeliner is just a waste, you know?