Most of us Have Survived our Children

   I just did the most detestable thing. It is even one of my pet peeves...

   I gave advice.  I gave advice to a younger mom.

   Okay, so I was subtle, but there it was...

   She has two children. They are still so little... One is not even a year old yet.

   Ahhhh... how I remember those days.

   Those are the days that make me cringe.

   I was once and independent woman. I was once someone who could solve major problems for a large company... and then I found myself at the grocery store with a cart full of diapers and groceries, a two month old, a two year old and a problem.

    I had to go to the bathroom.

    Urgently.

    There were three carts in every line. I was not to get any relief soon. I could not bear to put my infant nor my toddler on a public bathroom floor, and could not figure out how to unbutton my pants while carrying two children...

     So I did the only thing that could be done.

     I burst into tears, left my groceries and drove home immediately.

     I had been rendered completely helpless by these children. Going to the restroom had just become unbelievably complicated.

     So here I was, outside, confessing my helplessness...and I spotted another future horror for this young mom. Her baby was in the stroller, but it was clear that his stroller days were numbered.

     I told her, "There will come a time very soon, where the stroller will just make him cry, he will want to walk with you... and there will come a time when they will be walking in opposite directions and make you lose your mind...."  I saw the realization wash over her face as I continued, "but it will be brief. They will learn quickly to stay together. You will be okay. Just remind yourself..."

      I had done it. I detest advice and yet I had just done it...

     I see how it happens now. I remember the fear. I remember the frustration. I remember... and I thought I could plant a tiny seed.. I thought I could plant a little voice in her head to say, "this will not last forever"....

     I guess, truthfully, I don't even remember if someone ever told me that. I do remember thinking often that I would surely not survive. The children would surely not survive. I could not keep them safe. I could not even keep them together....

     Someone probably told me.

     I probably either didn't listen, or couldn't retain the information. I was so absorbed by ensuring there were diapers, clothes, food, and everything else needed every day in addition to working full time.

    Two is so very different than one. I was overwhelmed a lot when they were little.

    I do remember one tidbit from my neighbor. She had four children and had come over to rescue me one day. I had tears streaming down my face. "I have tried to leave the house, but someone is constantly pooping or needing to eat, or throwing up..."

     I was exasperated. I had accomplished nothing that morning.

     She told me, "It's okay, go run your errand. I will be here. It gets better. The second one is the hardest to adjust to, if you are going to have two children, you might as well have ten."

     I obviously did not believe her. I have two children. That is it.

     I had zero confidence in my abilities after the second child.

     I was also pretty sure that my IQ was dropping from poop fumes.

     I love my children dearly...but I will try to remember not to give advice. I will try to smile and try to remind them that it will all be okay. They will have their own trials. Their children will be different.

     As for my neighbor, I will say a little prayer to make up for giving her advice. She will survive. We all have... I think.. Well, most of us have...

    

Memories of Rap and Heavy Metal Cures

    When I was seventeen years old, I received a card in the mail from the dentist's office.
     The card simply stated that I had an appointment scheduled for 7:30 a.m. on Thursday. I had not scheduled an appointment, and had just been to the dentist for a cleaning a few weeks before, so I asked my dad if he knew anything about it.
      My dad shrugged it off, but that Thursday morning, my dad met me at the office. His being there made me a bit more edgy, since I generally handled my own appointments.
      I took the clipboard and began filling out the forms. The next thing that made me edgy was this form. It was different. I answered the questions and came to "Have you taken any medications today?" and "Have you eaten today?" and started to shake.
      I didn't know what was about to happen, but these were not the standard questions.
     When I completed the form, a male nurse took me to a room with a reclined chair and asked me to sit down.
     When the doctor came in, he told me to open my mouth. I did, and then heard the male nurse say, "Sir, should I get some scrubs for her to wear so we don't get blood on her white sweater?"
      BLOOD?  On my sweater? On my WHITE sweater? It was actually a white cashmere sweater that I had purchased on my last trip to the U.S.  What were they going to do to me?
      The doctor then explained. "Your xrays indicated that your wisdom teeth need to come out. They are facing forwards instead of the correct direction to come through the gums naturally. Also, you simply do not have room for them."
     "Prom is tomorrow..." I stammered... 
     The doctor told me he could wait one week if that would help, but that it needed to be done. 
     Who are we kidding? If I get up from this chair, I will never come back. I am afraid of all things dentist.
      So, I changed into scrubs and sat back down in the chair, accepting my fate.
     Just as I was getting the gas, a man walked in. A man in uniform with a purple and black face. His face was swollen and he looked terrible.
      The doctor jumped up to speak with him, it seemed there was a bit of irritation and then the doctor came back to me. My eyes were bulging. I was terrified.
      The doctor reassured me, "That rarely every happens. It was a complication and the swelling will go down in a few days."
       Military doctors are not always known for bedside manner or compassion.
       That afternoon, my dad took me home, told me to stay in HIS chair. He said if I sit still, I would not have as much swelling. He said he would put my CD's in and he would change my gauze as needed.
      My dad did just that. He put six of my CD's in his player and hit random. My poor father listened to heavy metal, rap and whatever else all night long. My father brought me drinks and changed my gauze. He kept ice packs on me also. He did all of this without complaining, rolling his eyes or telling me how talentless the youth of the day were.
      The next morning, when I went to the bathroom, I looked at my face and began crying. I was already swollen...on one side. It was the day of prom and I looked like some sort of lop sided pumpkin.
     That night, my mom helped me into my dress, helped me with my make up and ensured that my pain pills were in my purse.
     Yeah, a week later would not have helped anyways. One week later was my graduation. On graduation day, I had a lovely bruise on one cheek, but most of the swelling was gone.
     Needless to say, there are no prom pictures of me that year.
     I called my dad tonight to remind him of this. He does not remember. Apparently, the stroke claimed that also...
    It doesn't matter. I called him to talk to him about it because I know, that if he thought sitting up with me all night listening to Beastie Boys, Run DMC, Metallica, Kiss and whatever else would help, that he would do it now.
     I know my dad still worries about me. I know he still wants to make it better. I also know that this is awful for him to watch.
      I know because my children will never be grown up enough for me not to worry and care.
      I wish I could give him that feeling again... That feeling that he was suffering for a reason, that the swelling would go down and all of this would just be an odd memory...
    

Keep Moving~Nothing to See Here

     I am working on so many changes. There are simply things that will change. There is no way around it. I just have to learn, adapt and grow.

     The clock is ticking. There are more changes coming, whether we like them or not. I feel like time is passing much too quickly now. I have a goal date. I have a date to be ready for. I have plans to make.

     I am currently packing more and more boxes. I really don't know why at this point. I cannot possibly buy the other house with no money and very little income. I just have to believe that God has a plan and that I have to be ready for it. I don't know if that includes me staying in this house, but it really does not look like that is going to work either...so I pack.

     I am also working on creating extra income without requiring me to be unavailable to those who need me right now. This one is proving to be more of a challenge. I am skeptical and do not believe in "get rich quick" schemes, but I do believe that with tenacity, I will find some way to provide for my family without leaving them unattended.

    I am also working on Christmas presents for my children. I have a couple of projects started, but I can only work on them after they go to bed. They are older now, so I must also remove all evidence that I was "up to something".

     I am hoping to be able to learn a few new skills. I have been up late at night the last few nights learning new skills online. I am very aware of my deficits right now. I am acutely aware of the brain damage as I take notes and repeat the same exersize over and over, trying to make sure I really understand it. I am also very aware of how grateful I am for recovering so well from the injury. I had gotten discouraged for a time, thinking that I had seen all of the improvement that I was going to see. I am aware that I have still been making improvements.

     Now, I just have to keep moving.

     I am still taking just a step at a time. I am still forcing my family to go on little family outings whenever possible. (Last night we went for a drive to an area where the hills and the trees made a magnificent fall scene.)  I am still making sure all of the medications and paperwork for everything else are being done properly.

     I am thankful that I am busy. It keeps me from utter collapse under the weght of everything. However, at this point, my life is resembling a video game with a giant, enormous, oversized bowling ball over my head... Keep moving or it will drop and squash me.

     This weekend I am also going to try out a few new recipes. I am cleaning my tall freezer this morning and hopefully will be able to stock it in a more orderly fashion with new prepared meals for this week. I also am going to do some of the Thanksgiving goodies in advance to save time next week. 

     Yes, next week, my mother will be here. Next week there will be no spare time for my odd little habits and goals. Next week I will be entertaining.

     Ahhhhh...

     I am most thankful that I am busy, but not too busy to remember to pull our family together. I am thankful that I don't have time to sit and wallow in the fear.

    I am praying that my husband still be with us for Thanksgiving.

    

Grains of Rice

   A very long time ago, when I was in my mid twenties, I was struggling with just about everything imaginable. I had an illness that resulted in temporary kidney failure, my marriage had just failed, and I was struggling with what I would do with my life and who I was going to become.

    Sounds dramatic right? When you are twenty, everything is dramatic. We somehow believe that we will make some grand decision and that is who we will become. We believe that we will make a choice in college and that is what we will do for the rest of our lives. It's no wonder that we drive ourselves half mad.

     In the midst of this drama of trying to heal, trying to keep my job, attend classes and simply recover, I was given some very good advice.

     For about a week, I found that I just could not shake the "ick" feeling. I was whiny, complaining, miserable with others and worst of all, miserable with myself. I saw doom and gloom in everything.

     I mentioned once that I was having a bit of trouble "shaking it off" and someone told me that I should pay attention to the little things.

     Of course, I thought they meant the trees, flowers, running water, you know?

      "The brain controls everything. It controls every breath you take, it controls your thoughts, it controls your comfort level."  He began.

      Uh huh, but I didn't feel like I was in control of my brain. That was kind of the problem.

      "The little things can add up to big things very quickly like the story about the rice on the chessboard. You begin with 1 grain of rice on the first square. You place 2 grains on the second square and so on. By the time you are at the tenth square, you have 1023 grains of rice and 54 squares left to go. By the time you reached the end of the squares, you would have used about  461,000,000,000 metric tons of rice." He took a breath as I wondered how this pertained to my situation.

     "You have a certain number of things going on that are beyond your control. Those are the grains of rice that you must accept. You must carry them for now. There are other things that you can control. You read articles about starving children and diseases in other countries and those weigh on you. You watch sad, scary or intense movies, and those weigh on you. You need to pay attention to those things right now and not accept the additional grains of rice. When you have a choice, fill your time with something hopeful and joyful."

     This sounded ridiculous to me. My problems were so huge. My burdens seemed so overwhelming, a movie hardly seemed like it would make a difference.

      "When you have moved the other grains out of the way, you will feel more like yourself, after about a week of intentional clearing, you need to volunteer to help someone in a worse situation than yourself."

      It seemed like that last part would just be another burden... I nodded politely.

     I really did not have any intention of following the advice. I really didn't intend to even give it any further thought.

       His words echoed in my mind when I sat down to watch TV. I scrolled through the menu and found myself skipping past the murder mysteries and dramas to comedy.

       The next few days I was more aware of my choices. I was more aware of when I could bypass the grains of rice just a little bit more.

      By the end of the week, I casually thought, "Okay, now to find something to do to help someone in a worse situation."

      I found something. I found something perfect. I did not walk away with a feeling of "Oh, suck it up, it could be worse, you could be like that person."

      Instead, I was surprised at how good I felt. It wasn't that I somehow felt better than that person. I didn't. It wasn't that I felt like I had been lifted of my burdens. I didn't. Those burdens were still there.

      I had something better from that experience. Yes, some things seem insurmountable. Some things seem beyond the scope of reason. I did not cure that person. I did not rescue them from their circumstance. I did not make it all better with my small gesture.

      Instead, I felt like I had removed one tiny grain of rice. It really wasn't so significant, except that I could see the possibility. I could see that one tiny grain of rice could add up to so much more. I could see that I had been a part of relieving someone of their 461,000,000,000 tons. I could see that every tiny thing makes a difference.

      I will always be grateful for that week. I will always be grateful that I told someone how I was feeling. That person was a math and engineering major. I had no way of knowing just how profoundly math could affect my every day life for years.

     Now, many years later, I still keep this bit of wisdom in the back of my mind when things are more challenging. If you see me flying a kite when it would seem that I have much more important things to deal with, it might just be that I am removing grains of rice from my chessboard.

    

Binoculars

    The events of this weekend scared me a bit more than I thought.

    I spoke to my Pastor and my mom about it. I had a few more questions. I had a few more things I needed to say.

     At one point, I told my mom, "I don't feel grown up enough to do any of this."

     My mom told me that she doesn't think that anyone does.

    

     I have never been an rage and anger, poor me, or my least favorite, "This isn't fair!" type of person.

     Life isn't fair.

     That's it. I could go on and on explaining the percentage of babies tomorrow that will be born into extreme poverty. How many babies will be fortunate enough to be born here, with vaccines, foods so plentiful that nutrition is an afterthought. Is that fair?

     I have tried to never utter that phrase.

     Every time I have to explain something that is happening, every time I see the look on my children's faces, I feel a nasty little bubble growing. It is a bubble filled with anger. It is a bubble filled with fear.

     I have weighed my words before speaking to the girls each time. Just my hesitation to speak makes them more nervous, but I don't feel like I have a choice.

     I cannot flippantly say, Yes, he has had two heart attacks and a failed triple bypass and that is fine. I cannot look at them and give the...la dee da message. I also do not want to make this any more of a dark cloud, a monster, a villain that it already seems like.

     Yes, it is true that everyone believes that their children are the most precious ever, but mine really are. My children are also no complaining. They are not whining about what they cannot have, or what we have not been able to do. My children have not cried out, "It's not fair."

     More than once I have envisioned this bubble with a ribbon attached. I have envisioned letting it go and watching it float away to the peaceful heavens where pain cannot survive.

     For now, I have to keep my clown shoes tucked away. I cannot be the example of raving lunatic for my kids. For now, I must continue to walk a step at a time. I must continue to hesitate before I answer questions.

     I also must remember to find gratitude in each day, in each breath and in each smile.  I must also remember to keep the balance tilted towards whatever positives we can find in each day.

     It is a bit like binoculars. I have to adjust the focus. With a good pair of binoculars, I could spot a dog relieving itself several blocks away. If I adjust my focus, I can see flowers in a garden, a cardinal eating from a bird feeder, or a butterfly fluttering among the bushes.

     I have to keep twirling the focus dial until I get it right.

    

    

    

United We Stand

    Divided we fall. It is yet another old cliche. There are plenty of them and I see why they are passed along so readily.

    Today has been difficult to watch and listen to. People making idle threats, assuming the worst from the election results.

     Perhaps a lot of people are missing the point. Perhaps they have forgotten what made this country so strong so long ago.

     No one human being controls the destiny of this country. The constitution and amendments have ensured that. No one person can repair everything. No one person can destroy everything.

     Even if an actual tights clad superhero were to take office, I would guess that he would have trouble right now. Regardless of what is going on at the capital, we seem to have a much nastier and much more pervasive problem.

     Blame.

     Blame is standing in the way of progress. Blame security, blame the White House, blame the President, blame the banks, blame the airlines.

     Who have we really become? Aren't we better than this?

     Why do we still make so many excuses for our own choices and behaviors and so readily blame others?

     Why did you get thirteen credit cards? You brag about rights and choices. You had every right to say NO.

     This is a country built on "majority rule".

     It would seem then that the majority of us may have contributed to the problem.

     I will tell you my focus. My personal focus is on purchasing goods made in the USA. I would not go so far as to say that I own nothing imported, but it begins small. I try to pay attention to where my items are made. Who am I personally helping? Am I helping a family in another country or am I helping a family right here?

     We all have choices. We even have the choice to focus on blame, or try to make our own changes. Can I afford that? If not, then perhaps I should not buy it. Perhaps that is a better choice than creative financing.

     It is not going to be easy to wean ourselves from blame and bad choices. It is not going to be easy to remember to put things into perspective instead of shouting about our "rights". 

     In the search of prosperity, our creative financing and bookkeeping have placed us right where we are today. Our country should never have been in debt, yet somehow we have been in debt throughout the history of this country, save for one short time period.

     What does that say? Isn't it time that we truly examined our own resources and their use? Isn't it time that we came together to create a debt free nation? Isn't it time that we all encourage each other to remember this daily. 

     The shiny cheap things from overseas are very tempting, but once you consider the actual cost of each of those items...it hardly seems worth it. 

     We could be providing more families here with a stable income from jobs created to manufacture more things right here. We could be taking care of our own inflation and tax issues right here. We could do so much if we were to trade responsibly.  

      It does not take an economics major to see that if your purchases outweigh your sales, you will be in debt.

      Why can't we put all of the charts, pies and graphs aside with the artificially inflated numbers and just do this the simple way? Think about your holiday purchases?

      Can you get something made in the USA instead of something imported? If the demand shifts, so will the industry. The majority needs to speak up and quit blaming.

      I hope this tiny post stays in the back of your mind. I hope it affects you. I hope that you are changed by it. The tiny voice is how it begins, even if it is the tiny voice in the back of your mind.

               

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Winter Fluff

   I really really do love this time of year. I love the crisp mornings. I love the sun shining in the afternoon. I love the guilty pleasure of hot cocoa at night when the house cools down. I love planning for the holidays. I love the recipes and goodies and the smiles.

    This is the most perfect time of year.

    This is also Oklahoma, which means that although the spring has similar temperatures and sunlight, November does not generally bring the threat of tornadoes. A wonder to be sure.

    While other states are selling tourists on their "fall colors" tours, I can see why that would just not work here. Yes, we do have trees. Yes, the leaves do change colors, but it all happens a bit more dramatically here. 

     The weather shifts quickly. There is usually no gentle lull into the chill that causes the colors to change, so it would seem that just over a weekend, all of the trees are turning.

     We often get storms here. We also have very few days that are not what most would describe as "windy".

     I walked outside yesterday and realized that all of the trees in my neighborhood had very few leaves left.

    Oh yeah... it was pretty windy the other night.

     It's pretty funny. One day I drive by and all of the trees have green leaves. That weekend I drive by and they are beautiful colors of fall, red, orange...golden...And a few days later I drive by and giggle. 

    I can't help it. Secretly, I am that immature. I always imagine that one of the trees sneezed and all of their clothes burst off of them. The trees are naked. They are there to face the winter with no fluff, bare, for all of the world to see what they are made of.

     It always makes me giggle.

     In other states, the trees seem to shed their leaves a few at a time, like a long slow dance of nature. Here, they just burst out of their clothes.

      Things really are different here. This last weekend I was in a town where everyone really did know everyone else. It was fascinating. My grandfather went into the gas station and asked if anyone had seen my 85 year old great uncle. Three people answered that they had seen him that morning.

     I gaped with astonishment. I am so invisible in my world. If someone were to ask the local gas station attendent if anyone had seen me, I doubt there would be a comprehensible answer. Here that would be an incomprehensible question.

     I laugh.

     If just those things were compared, my life would seem sort of sad. I roam invisibly through stores and gas stations. I am not anybody "special".

     And yet I am. I am aware every day of how many friends I have. I am aware of how many people care about me. My friends are like the leaves on the trees. They are colorful, beautiful and amazing.

     Unlike the leaves on the trees, I know my friends will still be with me through the winter.

      I have plenty of fluff around me to get me through the winter and I like it.

      God Bless each and every one of you.

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