What were they thinking.

So today was meant to be a stay at home snow day. Apparently Mother Nature didn't get the memo, cause the snow really didn't amount to much. So Connor and I were at home, Drew was working from home, and no plans had been made beyond "play in the snow." Needless to say that by noon we were all a little frayed and Drew needed some time to work in peace and quiet. I thought of open swim at the Y and Connor and I were off.

Usually, open swim on a weekday is a relatively quiet affair. It's a great chance to get in some nice warm water and work on Connor's swimming skills. Connor has a great time, I have something to keep him occupied for an hour or two, it gets us out of the house, and we both get exercise. Generally a win/win. NOT ON A SNOW DAY!!!

Note to self, never, not ever, do I want to go to open swim on a snow day ever again. I thought I was being careful, going in to check the crowd (not too bad) and check in with the front desk to make sure the snow-day camp kids weren't parked in the pools. Not careful enough.

I suppose the first tip off should have been the private changing room strewn with clothing and left open and unavailable for anyone else. Hello- that's what the lockers are for, change in private, store your gear and let someone else enjoy some privacy. Hey, anyone can make a rookie mistake.

Found a private room, got myself and Connor changed and organized and headed to the family locker room. Went to stow our gear in our "regular" locker and on the floor was two pairs of boys sweatpants, inside out, complete with skidded up underwear. Yep, there they were, laying crotch down on the nasty carpet in the locker room (BTW who thought carpet in a public locker room was a good idea). EEEWWW, YUCK, NASTY, GROSS, ICKY!!!! I was beyond grossed out, first at it being left there, and then with the idea that some poor children were going to have that pulled on to there naked tushies. OMG

Finally made it through the unexpected mine field that was the locker room and made it to the pool. Hmmmmm.... much more crowded than I thought it would be. Ah well, we were there so in we went. The crowd wouldn't have been bad except for this one mom and kids (and I am sure they were the nasty pants group). Her boys were bigger than Connor AND had on floaties. They were twins, were rowdy, and mom figured she didn't have to be right on them, since they had floaties on. That trio seemed to follow me everywhere and the kids always seemed to be grabbing at my non-floaty. still learning to swim child. It was unreal.

I called a swift end to swimming- hey 15 minutes was better than no minutes, right? I just wanted to get into and out of the showers and on into the private dressing rooms before the onslaught. Smart me, swift showers were all we had time for. BTW- do all daddies think it is ok to strip their daughters naked in the family locker room? I am still explaining that to Connor.

I know I am fussy, especially when it comes to Connor and crowds. But honestly- dirty underwear on the floor of a public bathroom, near repeated drownings, and birds and the bees showers were just more than I wanted from the snow day.

Yet, as freaked out as I was by the whole experience, I'd do it all again. When I told Connor we were going swimming, he threw his arms around me and declared me the best mommy ever. Yep, worth it all...... But seriously- nasty underwear?????

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda,

Many people spend a great deal of time and energy on the phrase "coulda, woulda, shoulda." The missed opportunities, jobs lost or not taken, friends you lost touch with or didn't meet, that list of things that would have changed your life, if only.

Some people rail against where they are in life, professionally or personally, and think not of where they are but where they "should be." They argue about how life is not how it should be for them. They should have better jobs, older/younger children, bigger houses, better cars, fancier careers. Oh, how life would improve, if only they were where they "should be."

I am going to argue that wherever you are is exactly where you should be at this moment in time. If life is a path we follow and each step is represented by the millions of decisions we have made in our personal history, then your footsteps have brought you here, make the best of it. You can have no effect on your history, it is what it is and no amount of wailing will change it. It is immutable, cast in stone, done and over with. Don't waste your here and now, and therefore your potential future by the "couldas and wouldas."

Examine your history, own your history, acknowledge where choices might have been done differently. That is all good for making sure that the couldas and the wouldas of the here and now are approached with an eye to the future. Use the regrets in your past to make your future because if the past is already set, the future is still so fluid and open.

As I look back on my life I could drown in all the things I would have done differently- worked harder in high school, insisted on college right away, build our house sooner, start a family sooner, the list is truly endless. Yet if I were able to go back and change even one of those choices I would no longer be here, in this place, in this time, living the life I have. Are there lessons I am taking forward to make my future closer to what I dream of? You bet, but I am not wasting this glorious gift of life by bellyaching over what I can't change.

My promise to myself is that each time I find myself wishing something in the here and now were different I will remind myself of all the things I wouldn't trade for all the tea in China. I bet that list will remind me of how lucky I am and how much I have to fight for. Then I will try to be sure that the choices I make today are the best I can make for my future. Each day, I will remind myself that I am exactly where I "should be" and if I don't like it, only I control my couldas and wouldas.

I will own my history, live my present, and dream for my future. I will do everything in my power to make the world a little better for my having been in it. At the end of my days I don't want to worry about the coulda, woulda, shoulda.

Splinters and Planks

There is a post going around Facebook these days related to the continuing crisis in Haiti (well there are many statuses related, but one that has really gotten me thinking). I have seen it on several friends status updates, and I won't name any names. Here is the text:

America: the only country where we have homeless without shelter, children going to bed without eating, elderly going without needed meds, and mentally ill without treatment - yet we have a benefit for the people of Haiti on 12 TV stations. 99% of people won't have the balls to copy and repost this.

My first reaction was quite visceral, literally a punch to the gut. How could anyone resent aid sent to a country like Haiti. Even before the earthquake they were the poorest and most beleaguered country in the West. The government is so corrupt and incompetent that they couldn't handle the day-to-day needs of the country, let alone one in the throws of a devastating earthquake. Now the people of Haiti must literally dig themselves out of a hole even deeper than the one they were in before 60 - 90% of buildings in the affected areas came tumbling down on their heads.

At first I had my personal reaction, knew I would be part of the 99% that would not re-post this and moved on with my day. However, my mind kept coming back to this statement and how sad it was. Some of it is so true. Think of the daily suffering in the United States. There are homeless that freeze to death, families losing their homes, people losing jobs, tough medical decisions being made due to lack of insurance. Where was the telethon for the housing crisis, the unemployed, the homeless, seniors? Do we only see the suffering of others?

Last night, while trying to fall back asleep around 2am (insomnia is great for creativity), I thought of an old saying- "Take care of the plank in your own eye before you worry about the splinter in my eye." It is a great lesson in life. Spend your energy getting your big troubles and worries cared for before looking after me and my concerns. Frequently it applies quite well to life and should be thought of when you are expending enormous energy on someone else's troubles when your own life is falling apart. It doesn't apply here. While I agree that the problems the United States deals with may be plank-in-the-eye like, Haiti is dealing with far more than a splinter, far more than a plank. Haiti has been efficiently dismembered and left to die in the sun. Maybe our plank can wait while we help those less fortunate literally pick up the pieces of their homes, their loved ones, and their lives.

After all, are we bulldozing tens of thousands of Americans into poorly dug mass graves because there is no other solution? Are hundreds of thousands of our children looking into the abyss of orphan hood and street life? How many tens of thousands of our fellow countrymen have we dug out of collapsed buildings this week? Is 60% of New York City laying in ruin? Is our government so notorious for its corruption that most people in the world have little trust in it? Is a basic concern for us all safe drinking water? No, even the most unfortunate among us has access to help if they look for it.

We do look after the plank in our eye. We have shelters, food closets, welfare, food stamps, charity drives, clothes closets, Adopt-a-Family, free medical clinics, Planned Parenthood, churches, and so much more. We help by giving money to our churches, at the grocery store checkout we can donate to feed the needy, take canned goods to local food drives, we pay income tax, volunteer at shelters, make meals for soup kitchens, the list is endless. That shouldn't stop because at this moment in time we are asked to offer help to people facing a life of hardship that the poorest of us would see as beyond devastating.

For those that truly believe in that Facebook post, I hope you put your money where your mouth is and do all you can (financially and physically) to take care of America's "plank." If you really believe that we don't have the resources or the moral and humanitarian obligation to help anyone else, your free to feel that way and act accordingly. For me and my house, we are fed, clothed, warm, dry, healthy and safe. In a word we are blessed. I will continue to do all I can to help those in need in my own country, but in this time and on this day, I will find something in my personal life to sacrifice so I can help my fellow man. If one Haitian child goes to bed fed, warm, and safe that makes it worth it to me.

So there it is, my thoughts and musings on a thought-provoking Facebook post.

Pursuit- The American Way

pursuit: (noun) 1. the act of following in order to catch, attack, or kill. 2. seeking to attain (a goal).

hap·pi·ness: (noun) 1. a: a state of well-being and contentment : joy b : a pleasurable or satisfying experience

I'll blame it on Thomas Jefferson and the Founding Fathers. They were the ones that told us we had a right, an inalienable right to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." The problem is that Americans have always seemed to use the first definition of pursuit, and not the second. Yes, we follow, or pursue our happiness with an intensity that inevitably will kill it before we know we might have caught it.

Think about how so many of us live our lives- full schedules, full-time jobs, families, after care, school activities, extra-curricular activities, extended family gatherings/obligations, church, home, hearth, neighborhood, civic/social charity.... the list is endless and smothering in its length, breadth, and weight. Our day-to-day lives are frequently a scramble from one thing to the next. Days that start early, end late and rarely slow down between waking up and going to sleep. Calendars filled with events and meetings, appointments, and obligations. Have you every panicked at the thought of losing your calendar? Have you secretly fantasized about burning it?

Of course we get vacations from all of this you might think. But think about how we frequently pursue our vacations. We head to amusement parks, resorts, Disney World. Those precious days free from the pressure of daily life can swiftly be filled with the "pursuit of fun." Sun-up to sun-down we scurry from museums to snorkeling, thrill rides, to tour guides. We can come home more tired than when we left.

Our culture seems to be hard-wired to cram in amuseument, to relentlessly pursue happiness. Our movies are blockbusters, full of explosions, special effects, loud sound effects, super-sized popcorn, and dazzling action. Our restaurants serve meals that would feed entire villages for a week in other parts of the world. We like our cars big, our music energetic, and our celebrities bigger than life.

Should our Christmas holidays be any different? Thinking about the Christmas holidays is really what got me thinking about how we pursue happiness in America. I have talked to many people this year and we all feel the same way- harried, stressed, worried, and exhausted by the run up the Christmas. That isn't to say there aren't bright spots of enthusiasm, but the stress of buying gifts, fitting in all the parties, seeing all the family, decorating the house, going to local events, all the things that we seems to feel are necessary to Christmastime is really wearing us out.

So now I find myself really examining how I approach the Christmas Holidays, why I am approaching them in this way, and how I can make my life more sane. I am really looking at what Christmas means to me and why. I am also thinking of what of my childhood Christmases I remember, what makes those memories special, and how I can pass some of that feeling on to my son. Here is what I have found so far.....


First of all, Christmas is not about the shopping, the gifts, the food, or the decorations- though they all add to the festivities. Those things can easily become part of the pursuit of Christmas, which can be detrimental in the end. Remember, pursuit is often more about the attack than the attainment.

What makes Christmas a stessful and unhappy time for me is much of the above. I over-schedule, over-buy, over-plan, and generally make life much harder than it needs to be.

How can I edit my approach to Christmas to bring the focus back where it belongs and make it generally a more pleasant experience?? This year I have been trying to be mindful of my choices.

Buying for everybody on my list is too stressful financially?? My answer is to announce to family and friends that I have everything I need, and to please not buy for me and Drew and we are not planning to buy for anyone over the age of 21 (our oldest nephew is about to age out of this system, sorry Josh).

Too many time committments? LEARN TO SAY NO NOW AND THEN. I am not doing so well with this one, but trying, still trying...

Bring my focus to my husband, my son, my closest and dearest. Explore traditions old and new, and talk to Connor about them. Help him learn the stories and celebrations that make this time of year so special.

Remind myself that Christmas, at its heart is a celebration of the birth of a baby. What I personally believe about Jesus and his divinity (or lack thereof) pales in importance when I think of the world stopping to celebrate the birth of a child. That this child grew to have important lessons for us all to learn is just icing on the cake.

So what I am trying to do it take the time to stop and watch and listen to Connor, to tell the stories, to hear what he has to say, to answer his questions, and to marvel at how his mind works. I am putting extra effort into giving him some of the greatest gift I ever got from my mother and that is a delight in the magic of Christmas. It is so easy to lose that feeling when you are a grown-up, but with Connor I have the chance to recapture it. All I have to do is let the pursuit of the Christmas Spirit go, and let the Christmas Spirit happen.

Ancestors and Ghosts

The dead an be anything you want them to be. They can be perfect, flawed, a sinner, a saint, a scapegoat, or beyond reproach. The dead can judge you or approve heartily of all you do. With enough time between you and the death of your loved one, they can become whatever you need them to be.

This season of the year makes me think a great deal about my mother. In September of 1993 my mother was diagnosed with a terminal cancer. It was by choice that the cancer had progressed so far. She knew something was wrong, had a good idea of what it was, and chose to put off treatment/diagnosis until she couldn't manage the pain on her own. By the time a doctor was involved, there was no question of death, just how long it would take. This began three months of my life that would change me forever in profound ways.

A week after the diagnosis my brother was driving a car and had an accident that took the life of his passenger. He landed in intensive care and nearly died of a secondary infection. Once he recovered, he went from the hospital to jail, to be held there until bail could be met, which it wouldn't for many months. This left me and Drew as the sole caregivers and bill payers for my mother.

We were 25, married for less than a year, and dealing with a house that clearly needed major work. I was a park secretary, Drew was a technical writer, money was tight. My mom needed us and there was nobody else to help. There was never any question in our minds what we needed to do, she needed us, and we were there. I went to half-time at work and got to the full-time business of managing my mother's health and welfare.

It is important to note that my relationship with my mother was complex to say the least. We had come to some peace since my grandmother's death five years earlier. That didn't mean it was smooth sailing all the time. We fought, called names, wouldn't talk for days, but found common ground we never expected when I was growing up.

My mother was an alcoholic, someone severely depressed who self-medicated with booze. Throughout my life this was a fact, I can't remember a time when she didn't battle it. My reality always included that personality-altering habit. It made her small, petty, and mean. She had words that could wound, and frequently backed it up with arbitrary punishments- months-long grounding, rage-filled calls to friends parents that tried to make made them think the worst of me, hair pulling, slaps. It made me rage against her authority over me, made us hurt one another. I rebelled, fought to be my own person, made sure she knew how little I respected her. The peace we had found was hard won and quite surprising, a gift beyond measure.

Those last months with my mother were so hard. I didn't want her to die. I feared helping her through it. I wanted her to see me have children, I wanted to get to know her better. She was so resigned to dying and even expressed a desire for it. She was so sad in life, I guess she saw death as peace and freedom from all that hurt her. It was the ultimate in self-medication.

Thanksgiving was the day she mentally checked out. The cancer had progressed and she was in kidney failure. Her mind was going and she was set on seeing one more Christmas. She wanted a Christmas like her childhood ones. Drew and I searched high and low for the special candies, the special ornaments, the special things that would give her happiness. Ever day she would ask if it was Christmas, and we would have to tell her no. We even hung an Advent calendar to help her keep track, but when we left for the night, she would move the marker to December 24th.

Just a few days before Christmas she finally became to sick for me to handle at home. We admitted her to St. Francis Hospital for the end of life care I couldn't manage on my own. She was so made that she wasn't at home. She was convinced the doctor's were trying to kill her, and in a way I guess she was right. Her will to make it to Christmas was so great that she refused to sleep for days on end, equating sleep with death. She would get so weak she could barely stand, but she wouldn't sleep. The morphine the doctors were administering were easing her pain, and weakening her ability to fight Death.

I visited every day, sitting for hours trying to get her to eat, making sure she was comfortable, trying not to cry when she yelled at me. On Christmas Eve morning I arrived to find her largely unconscious and having trouble breathing. Not much longer now the nurses and doctors told me. So I sat with her, chatted, smoothed her blankets, brushed her hair. Finally I gazed out the window and miracle of miracles, it was actually snowing in Delaware on Christmas Eve. "What a gift" I thought. I leaned over to my mother and told her that she sure was a stubborn mule but I loved her. I told her the Universe had love for her too. I whispered to her that she had made it to Christmas and that is was actually snowing, just for her perfect Christmas. Then I told her she was free to go, she had done what she wanted. If she relaxed and let go, she would be with her parents for Christmas and have that holiday she remembered from her childhood. I told her I was ok and I would be alright, I had Drew to take care of me. She actually twisted her mouth into a small grin and gave little self-satisfied grunt, her own little "Ha!" Visiting hours ended, she was asleep and I left for a few hours. She died that evening as Drew and I rushed in trying to get to her before she left. We missed her by moments. But I think that was her choice, just like getting that last Christmas.

So now this time of year is colored by that year for the rest of my life. While most people are nostalgic for loved-ones this time of year, I relive her last weeks in my mind. It is hard. Each year I wonder what she would have thought of the events of the last year, how she would behave. When Liam was born and died I was grateful she hadn't had to live through that. When Connor was born I wondered and dreamed of how she would have been with him.

If the dead can be anything you want them to be, my mother would have stopped drinking, stopped smoking, gotten therapy and found some peace in life. She would be here, be engaged in my life and that of my child. She and I would happily spend days together, enjoying life and each other. She would be proud of how I went back to college and graduated, the first in my family to do so. Her face would explode with joy when she saw Connor, and he would run to her calling out "Grandma" so happily. She would make the meals I loved and share them with Connor. She would rejoice in our triumphs, be proud of our accomplishments, and be a happy part of our lives.

I know reality would have been different. My heart aches for the pain my mother felt so deeply that she numbed herself to all the joy in the world. Maybe my gift to her is to redeem her in my life now. I will imagine her all as I hoped for her to be: loving, happy, confident, and healthy.

I hope that in those last moment, she saw her parents and they greeted her for that Christmas she so wanted. I hope that all the peace denied to her in life was granted to her in death. Maybe by imagining her as I frequently do, that is peace for her soul.

Merry Christmas mom, I miss you and wish you were here to share the holidays with.

Busy

I feel like... "A one-armed paper hanger," "A one-legged guy in an ass-kicking contest." Do you get the idea??

Don't know why, but lately I feel very busy and pressured. Lots to do and no time to get it done; Errands, cleaning, laundry, dishes, sweeping, yard, porch, basement, ground floor, second floor, activities, medical concerns, church, holidays. Seems crazy and I never feel caught up.

For a while as fast as I checked items of the list, three were added. Thankfully even though the list is still growing, I am finally feeling like I might be catching up.

I've given this some thought. Guess with the house construction (recovery from the pipe break in January), and the additional duties at church and in my community, I am just juggling more than usual. I'll get the rhythm, it just might take some time.

A vacation would be in order, just a few days someplace different from here. Someplace without laundry machines, without toy boxes to fill, without a stove to cook on, maybe even without a phone. Some quiet and a place that just forces the three of us to slow down and enjoy each other.

Looking forward to Christmas- 2 weeks of being a family and no work pressures. A schedule all our own.

Until, I will keep hanging paper and kicking asses.....

Rats

So I missed a day of posting yesterday. So much for 30 posts in 30 days, huh? Well, I'll give myself a pass for yesterday and a break for today. We have spent much of the last week getting ready for a large party in our home, which was today. It went very well. I find myself bone-tired and not very philosophical. good-night