tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13190865441838059922024-02-19T11:55:14.301-05:00Honoring BrynnThis is a memorial to my daughter, Brynn Tessa Foley, who died days before she was born on January 29, 2010, Who is real, exists, and who is loved for herself. She was wild in the womb, her spirit is strong, boundlessly energetic, unapologetically feminine. I honor Brynn by allowing these life experiences to open me to the greater joy that perspective can bring.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-92126353210807999692014-04-21T09:37:00.000-04:002015-05-21T09:42:17.901-04:00Wave Pool Wisdom<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdnghDh4hn9iObjfEnfecFSgGi3O51c3EuRkKPwAegRfkyeGdJpPTcGAGuRfc5963xCrgyjBPdYi1D1gwDhEt1GPVzV4CbjQ7TLmAdA9kOSqNHnQB9hwTmCJi3DF_6sjhIjhyphenhyphen6Ai4ovg/s1600/IMAG0755-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdnghDh4hn9iObjfEnfecFSgGi3O51c3EuRkKPwAegRfkyeGdJpPTcGAGuRfc5963xCrgyjBPdYi1D1gwDhEt1GPVzV4CbjQ7TLmAdA9kOSqNHnQB9hwTmCJi3DF_6sjhIjhyphenhyphen6Ai4ovg/s320/IMAG0755-1.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>
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This little blog has sort of taken a different direction than was first intended. I sometimes, um, feel shy about how exposed I've made myself here. I also haven't had much to say, life has settled down a bit, and I've been rather content just plodding through, not really needing to process so publicly.</div>
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This year, impulsively, I booked an Easter weekend stay for my mom, myself and the kids at The Cape Codder Resort, mostly because of the wave pool. There are life lessons everywhere...</div>
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It's important, once in a while, to thrust yourself down a dark and watery slide. Let your stomach drop, let your heart sicken for the brief moments before you are plunged into the light. Remind yourself that terror can give way to thrill, and that both are temporary. Repeat as necessary.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCqf1WZscGERbnnnjNZ8CC1MyV9wYq6-_TRgoDNV3JORPBeLusNMTh5r-V-ovxWVCIMxxZ-PYDSAErcJ-JkZR5_RN4Stvtf1bZ7ekM98vSCbULbxkuMIFFSJFbiZXtf-lBB1JlXgzUw/s1600/IMAG0753-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCqf1WZscGERbnnnjNZ8CC1MyV9wYq6-_TRgoDNV3JORPBeLusNMTh5r-V-ovxWVCIMxxZ-PYDSAErcJ-JkZR5_RN4Stvtf1bZ7ekM98vSCbULbxkuMIFFSJFbiZXtf-lBB1JlXgzUw/s320/IMAG0753-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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If you like what you're doing, like playing in the waves, consider cancelling all your other plans and stay in the waves. I'm always pleased when I recognize the opportunity to do less. You may find you have the pool and the slides all to yourselves while the crowd rushes outside hunting for eggs. Suckers.</div>
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Take longer than your fair share in the hot tub. Because, as my mother used to say, <i>life's not fair</i>.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-78798749062281945902014-01-29T21:24:00.001-05:002015-05-21T09:31:52.498-04:00There are Worse Things than Tragedies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hi. Does anybody still read this? Today is B's 4th birthday. It didn't really get celebrated like other years. Well, I bought Shane a heart-shaped donut. And one for myself. Noah wanted hash browns instead. There was no gathering, no ritual, precious little external acknowledgment. Life goes on, I guess. I wasn't sad today until I realized that I wasn't sad and that felt sad to me. Now I'm a little sad. Anyway. Get to the point, Teresa.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLlSd5O_pF1iKGj-IJtBDV5jkBNCMhxyuOjDB4agyq3Yi9g2UDyxmW7OAE1jxXwb1h8yUzx8bSaCSMZRgIHq6WfcMHGhsg0TuMTVp84iev8CiYtvurlqSfvSLLLnU9Pvv_GmgE_RQyQ/s1600/IMG_0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLlSd5O_pF1iKGj-IJtBDV5jkBNCMhxyuOjDB4agyq3Yi9g2UDyxmW7OAE1jxXwb1h8yUzx8bSaCSMZRgIHq6WfcMHGhsg0TuMTVp84iev8CiYtvurlqSfvSLLLnU9Pvv_GmgE_RQyQ/s1600/IMG_0002.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my mom and me</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYt6penKWQmFK1gswRPXJ_z98_5pDLByjF7gGBNjHhqHmtgwTgioOY5ndIHAfQrDneCO5EV5OZm2Oim86S4PbVxMvQT4hr1dAeRY0h1eCW9zpyzhir9upbPAL6cZKkAjkYX-i2uTURoQ/s1600/GRAMPY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYt6penKWQmFK1gswRPXJ_z98_5pDLByjF7gGBNjHhqHmtgwTgioOY5ndIHAfQrDneCO5EV5OZm2Oim86S4PbVxMvQT4hr1dAeRY0h1eCW9zpyzhir9upbPAL6cZKkAjkYX-i2uTURoQ/s1600/GRAMPY.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shane and his Grampy</td></tr>
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I've said before, that before it happened to me I USED to think that there could be nothing worse on earth than to lose your baby. Some of you may still feel that way. Some of you are still thinking you could never survive it. I know how you feel. But I've come to understand that there's lots of worse things. There's something worse than all the tragedies really.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cwZRutb6ezr7UuMdX7WsdstKWnaLcyUlRK3obj_n3btdJVmcp5fu3GQ0jWWYNvohNsVD1DFwVedtJzLk3eQbPsG1d_QgmrQkGPTn633BfhkfO8biHwS1lyXK5kuDOc1EJ45d4WoT9g/s1600/20131224_181719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-cwZRutb6ezr7UuMdX7WsdstKWnaLcyUlRK3obj_n3btdJVmcp5fu3GQ0jWWYNvohNsVD1DFwVedtJzLk3eQbPsG1d_QgmrQkGPTn633BfhkfO8biHwS1lyXK5kuDOc1EJ45d4WoT9g/s1600/20131224_181719.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids' great grandparents making out on Christmas Eve 2013</td></tr>
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The worst thing I can see that happens to people is that we get stuck in the mundane and forget to enjoy our lives. We forget to enjoy the people around us. It happens to everyone to some degree.<br />
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I appreciate that I'm not in the throes of fresh grief today. That is the gift of tragedy. Perspective. Awareness. I am in general happier now that I've had some time to recover from that tough season. Happier than I was ever before it happened. Because I didn't realize quite as much what I had to enjoy in my life until my tree was shaken like that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my brother and I getting silly circa 1976</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zuyNO5GgIjbmq4vfzGAPom1Vw98jLR-rImIP8EzDieTymkWp0tn1PSWsUdPP7eiRlEqP1UdQqVdLVFrzA5vDv7K4G75lS28jk8vdXuY-PcxtxvzuschSJFdQEOJKTvh0v7iG_TRbVQ/s1600/20131230_070924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zuyNO5GgIjbmq4vfzGAPom1Vw98jLR-rImIP8EzDieTymkWp0tn1PSWsUdPP7eiRlEqP1UdQqVdLVFrzA5vDv7K4G75lS28jk8vdXuY-PcxtxvzuschSJFdQEOJKTvh0v7iG_TRbVQ/s1600/20131230_070924.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my boys sharing a moment of peace</td></tr>
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This has been a long, dark, cold winter. It's a bit of a struggle to call up the joy in life. That's my charge today, to myself, in honor of my little girl. Let's recognize the treasures in the mundane. Let's appreciate the fact that we have all that we have in this moment.<br />
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Let's relax a little bit more. Let's do a little bit less. Let's listen to ourselves talk to our children. Let's gently encourage ourselves to be more loving. Let's count our blessings.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPgKBM4eHko9fE__aekIEBzYLcQLVLmLK_ZRXjBplAujPKGeIi62pwrgZhvwYkxErrntbrG2Alzo7yhlcPuPvLX-Vgb_WjNX8QgkM6qkr0SmCPagZngLZ9Q6F9ryv69aHHZlBLMASJQ/s1600/newborn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPgKBM4eHko9fE__aekIEBzYLcQLVLmLK_ZRXjBplAujPKGeIi62pwrgZhvwYkxErrntbrG2Alzo7yhlcPuPvLX-Vgb_WjNX8QgkM6qkr0SmCPagZngLZ9Q6F9ryv69aHHZlBLMASJQ/s1600/newborn.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think this is by Frida Kahlo - I don't "get it" but it's a powerful image for me<br />
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:D<br />
<!--3-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-85029294659117341102013-10-02T05:49:00.000-04:002013-10-02T05:49:00.911-04:00All the Single LadiesWhen I was married, and other people's marriages "terminated" around us, I felt the tiniest bit smug. Other people's divorces were a barometer for my own marriage. We were still in it, so, we must be doing it right. Ours must be a good marriage. Otherwise, I wasn't sure if my marriage was good or bad. We had hard times, but he was my husband, and marriage is always hard, right? <br />
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Right.<br />
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Relationship me. I don't know her very well. I have such a blind spot there. <br />
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Independent me, la chica sola, is brash and in your face. Cries freely, feels great about crying. Trusts herself. Is tuned in. Independent me is a fierce leader. She's got the moves like Jagger, she's got the mooooooooooves like Jagger. Sorry, that song is in my head.<br />
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Relationship me is a dark spot. It's hard to enlighten her. She is stuck in old ways. When I like a boy, it feels like fear. I'm afraid to cry in front of boys. They don't seem to like crying. Relationship me is kind of creepy. She has all of these uncomfortable, self-doubty kinds of feelings. She feels lost. Desperate. She doesn't speak up. She isn't<i> good</i> at it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9forfNfrSYJp4AEk7Po2maWFOM2PrqwOq9sfE9Dd8-dOCEFN7ccgmzcOe7nb1dKcdeQRrOmHiK9vBtJ1kujEMd6LyXBjPjIjt5_cZPylu8VhNeSDEKOQeTsU6lYuobRtxqJdiG87Aw/s1600/Millais_-_Ophelia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9forfNfrSYJp4AEk7Po2maWFOM2PrqwOq9sfE9Dd8-dOCEFN7ccgmzcOe7nb1dKcdeQRrOmHiK9vBtJ1kujEMd6LyXBjPjIjt5_cZPylu8VhNeSDEKOQeTsU6lYuobRtxqJdiG87Aw/s320/Millais_-_Ophelia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Relationship me doesn't have a great track record. If I measure a relationship on lasting alone, it could be said that I've never had a good relationship. That's how it feels. That's where my fear sits.<br />
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Jimmy and I were so in love once. We were always laughing. He made funny faces at me during our wedding ceremony. We danced like crazy goof-balls at our reception. We were so happy. I felt so secure. So sure. <br />
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It's OK that we got married. It's OK that it didn't last. I have given way too much thought, way too much power to the terms <i>good</i> and <i>bad</i> where relationships are concerned. It could be said that I've never had a good relationship. It could also be said, and more accurately, that I've never had a bad relationship. <br />
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The answer is still, and again, love. I don't regret loving Jimmy. I won't ever regret any love that I've given or received. We didn't know, couldn't know.. And it's OK.<br />
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And it's brave to try again. Married people don't have all the answers. They don't know more than single people. Single people have a different kind of endurance. We open, we hope, bravely, we get our asses kicked, we lick our wounds, and we bravely open and hope again. and again. and again. In spite or our track records. <br />
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Like warriors. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-26119224041157683602013-05-28T13:57:00.003-04:002013-05-28T13:57:53.602-04:00The Explosive MotherRecently, and unsolicited, some books have been recommended to me that may or may not house solutions to parenting my difficult child. Love and Logic, 123 Magic, and The Explosive Child are a few of the popular titles. I have repeatedly borrowed these books from the library, and moved them around my house until they were due back. I have flipped through them, but I can't bring myself to read them through. Partly because if I get any time to read in a day, I usually spend those precious moments making food, cleaning something, watching New Girl, or staring blankly at the walls, uttering nonsense to myself.. If I get a precious moment when I'm not engulfed in the parenting front lines, I want to take the break.<br />
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I would read these books if I thought they would help. But the truth is, I already know what would help. And it isn't a behavior modification program for Shane. What would help avoid tantrums consistent with the bed time hour, help our family to function more smoothly, and in all ways bring peace to our home, is some good old self-awareness.<br />
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While observing the loud and violent outbursts when tempers are flying here, an objective third party would have difficulty pointing the finger at the children. I'm not saying my kids aren't completely insane sometimes. I'm just saying there is truth to the old cliche, <i>The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.</i><br />
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I might read a book entitled <i>The Explosive Mother</i>. Lord knows, I could write it.<br />
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It's interesting to observe myself. At first, I feel in control. Then the whining, or even loud happy noises start to annoy me. I feel myself start to panic. I try. I try! I talk myself down, I tell myself it's just noise, you don't have to get swept up in that energy, T. You can do this.. And then, suddenly, even to me, I lose my shit. I lose my bearings, and I feel completely panicked and out of control. I'm grabbing arms, and not gently, my eyes fill with hatred. I might roughly plow someone up the stairs, and shove someone into his room. I might swat. I might throw a toy, which is great modelling. I might just morph into a scary monster-like being, my voice becoming biting and icy.<br />
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I don't really understand what triggers this in me. I am working on it. Admitting it is good progress. A counselor recommended that I wear earplugs to take the edge off of the irritating sounds that children make. I bought the big box. The nice weather, and the ability to get outside has helped a lot. My counselor also recommended that I spend 15 minutes a day chasing my kids in the yard. They freaking love it. It has improved our relationships. <br />
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Getting a job actually helped, too. My time feels a little more balanced, and the time away from the kids makes me appreciate the time with them more. Admitting this is a bitter pill to swallow, though. Because I really thought of myself as the mom who didn't need time away from her precious children in order to appreciate them. Once again this motherhood thing, bunking all of our preconceived notions of ourselves. <br />
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I'll take this new awareness as a gift, and be grateful for my loud, irrational, crazy children who reflect back to me my own brand of crazy.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-15838410299343586052013-05-13T20:31:00.003-04:002013-05-13T21:00:05.946-04:00A Horrifying, Heartbreaking Moment of Pure InspirationWe've all had weeks like this. Shane was home sick three days last week, I got it too, pushed through the long work weekend hopped up on coffee and ibuprofen. My work week ended at 2am Sunday morning after 10 hours of serving tapas and wine, moving restaurant furniture and otherwise preparing for a Mother's Day Brunch I couldn't afford to eat. I could hear Noah screaming in the bedroom before I even entered the house. He stayed awake for another hour, the kids were up at 6, blah blah.<br />
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Church, lunch with family, all things I wanted to do and was willing to push through everyone's exhaustion for...<br />
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Not surprisingly, Noah didn't sleep good again last night and woke today with a fever. I spent my only scheduled three hours of kid freedom this week taking Noah to the doctor, picking up prescriptions, forcing the prescriptions down, carrying him everywhere I went.<br />
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I do my best. I tell myself the house will get clean eventually. I tell myself this too shall pass. I vent to friends (thank you, dearest friends)<br />
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Tonight as I put the boys to sleep, one arm rubbing Shane's back, the other holding a nursing Noah, Shane said he bet I was a little glad that Brynn died. I knew exactly where he was going with this before he even explained, "Because then you'd have to take care of her too."<br />
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Uh.<br />
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Horrifying.<br />
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But I get it. It looks like I don't enjoy my life. Because sometimes I don't enjoy my life. It looks like taking care of my children is a heavy drudgery. It looks like I'm not grateful for and in love with my children. Because sometimes, in the drudgery of caring for them, I forget to be grateful for and in love with my children. And my baby knows it. <br />
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What a sobering gift his words were tonight. That kid. is. my sage.<br />
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He is my window into magical places, he is my dream world, he is my reflecting pool, he is my peace and my home. He is the man in my life, that poor kid.<br />
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I am so glad he shared his burden with me. It was not in vain. This was an Oprah "Aha" moment that I believe is going to alter my approach to living forever. <br />
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My cells feel different already.<!--3--><!--3--><br />
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I'm going to take a homeopathic sleep aid now and get a good night's sleep. Sweet dreams, my loves.<br />
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<!--3-->Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-88838435024727153102013-04-13T09:34:00.003-04:002014-04-10T17:16:45.688-04:00Shoulding on Ourselves and OthersI am setting the intention here and now to be more connected to myself. I am feeling burned out. I am burnt to a crisp out. I am repeatedly receiving the message from loving friends and family that I need to be stronger. I need to be more consistent with disciplining Shane, I need to hold other specific people accountable, I need to control my rage, etc etc. How boring. These loving advice-givers were not aware that I was already full, overflowing and overwhelmed by shoulds. Have I mentioned here yet, that I have no use for should? Some wise guru wrote in a book that we don't even need the word should. Try going through life without it. It's nicer.<br />
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Anyway, apparently I <i>should</i> be stronger. I want to break stuff. I don't like being told what I should do. It fires up my rage. There's good information for me there. I feel like there is already too much, without having to somehow figure out how to be stronger, already too much I <i>should</i> be doing. The phrases "sucks at life" and "unfit mother" repeat themselves like scratched vinyl in my brain.<br />
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My solution is to take like medicine a long moment to myself. Reconnect. Love it up in there. Say the things out loud that I feel ashamed to admit...<br />
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Parenting is very hard for me. I want a long break from it. I'm afraid that I'm hurting my relationship with my son, and therefore his relationship with the world. <br />
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I'm afraid I will continue to attract men into my life that are not the best partners for me. I'm afraid that if I meet a man that I think would be a good partner, then all my crazy will come to the surface, and I mean CRAZY. I'm afraid if I get a glimpse of what a good partnership would look like, I will go mad and surely, surely repel that potentially good partner. I might hurl heavy rocks at him, just to be completely sure to sabotage my own happiness. I'm afraid that I don't believe in "True Love" anymore. I had it, and it was a tremendous amount of work and pain.<br />
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I'm afraid that my beliefs no longer align with the religion that I've chosen and love so much. I believe in and love my Jesus, and the saints and angels, but I believe equally in acceptance and love of all walks of life, which I do not see in practice in Orthodox, or most other forms of Christianity. I'm afraid this outing will cost me friendships.<br />
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I'm afraid that not paying for my house might be really really stupid. I stand by my decision for now, but the fear exists.<br />
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I feel better now. Thank you for listening, Teresa. I love you.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-69473853011851422992013-02-19T20:21:00.000-05:002013-02-19T20:23:57.827-05:00Oh. The Humanity.So, not sure if I should be embarrassed to admit this or not ... I joined an online dating website. Because it's been 1 1/2 years since my husband moved in with his girlfriend, because I live in a mommy bubble and literally know only women. And their husbands. And because I need attention and distraction, and there are hardly any TV shows I like.<br />
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It is a different world, people. I feel like a grandma saying this, but the last time I was in the dating pool, there was no texting or internet. Nowa-modern-days it's all there seems to be.<br />
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I am getting internet attention, but to be honest half the time I don't know what the hell is going on. I don't speak the language, and I'm often confused. There are all these little conversations that start, and then for one reason or another, one of us just stops responding. The pool is sooo huge, there are always shiny new people popping in, and it's too many to keep track of ... It's fickle business.<br />
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Remember when we were fully human? And we didn't have to worry about the staff robot's analysis of our personality, posted for all potential suitors to read. My personality chart profiles my extreme bad manners. For real. I mean, I can't argue but HOW DID THEY KNOW??<br />
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I would not have noticed without this little foray how much I enjoy and depend on really, the physical being of a human that I'm getting to know. I feel lost getting to know people without seeing and hearing them. I feel lost without witnessing a person's tone and expression in conversation, a person's scent even. There is energy and spirit that somehow gets transmitted much more clearly when in the presence of the physical form of a person. We are intelligent beings, yet we are animals, and our knowing comes from more than written word.<br />
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So. So. I don't know if I like it. And that's good information for myself. Now I can set clearer intentions.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-91657189604786849702013-01-30T21:32:00.000-05:002013-01-30T21:32:00.182-05:00Don't Be Sorry, Really. It's Weird.I've mentioned earlier on here how "I'm sorry for your loss" is not my favorite phrase. Now am I able to add some concrete to the reason for this.<br />
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I'm sorry for your loss separates the person saying it from whom they are saying it to. It isolates the loser. It made me feel like the subject of a story the person was reading. It made me feel alone. Out here, all by myself with my loss. It felt to me like, "I have removed myself from your loss. Sorry."<br />
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Sorry is something you say when you're seeking forgiveness after wronging someone. It doesn't make sense to say you are sorry unless you caused the loss. This sentiment never reached me, I had no use for it.<br />
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When you have the opportunity to speak to someone who has experienced loss, it might be more healing to share your love more expressly. If you feel compelled to mention loss, it feels less isolating to be told, "What a loss." Though, no one ever said this to me, so I can't be sure how it would make me feel.<br />
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Again, a heartfelt "How are you?" opens the lines of communication, allows the other person to share or not, and it feels like there is care and inclusion.<br />
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Try it out on someone you love!~Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-25806267635683926312013-01-29T11:25:00.000-05:002013-01-29T11:25:00.293-05:00Puppy it UpSo, this is going to be like one of those episodes of a show where it's a new episode, but it's really a conglomeration of snippits from previous episodes. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Brynn" painted by Candace Cotterman</td></tr>
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Today is Brynn's birthday. She would be three. For the past three years, the days leading up to January 29 have been splattered with PTSD triggers, sending me back to those first horrible moments. That was some deep grief. But it doesn't feel bad to relive it. It feels good. Because looking back, I can see myself crossing the threshold to a more authentic style of living. I gave myself permission to say "Yeah, I know my baby girl just died but I'm not being sad about it in this moment. I'm being irreverent because it feels good, it lightens the air, it relieves the pressure. If you can't handle it, go cry somewhere else." I gave myself permission to let this movie reel of my life be about me.<br />
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I gave myself permission to speak to the dead. I gave myself permission to listen to the dead. I gave permission to buy myself little gifts, trying on for the first time an abundance mentality.<br />
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These permissions led to other permissions, releasing my spirit, little by little, to experience more joy in life. Those word don't convey how significant this is. <span style="color: magenta; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>MORE JOY IN LIFE!</i></b></span><br />
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Attracting to myself a circle of women that would blow your mind.<br />
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Inside of me, Brynn was a crazy baby. It feels like I must have made this up, it's so unbelievable, but at her 20 week ultrasound we saw her repeatedly trying to kick her legs over her head, front walk-over style. <br />
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In the last days, she would kick me so hard, I could feel, and see, her foot sticking out of my belly. She was a strong and vivacious girl. And her spirit is so effervescently light. Like fizzy pink lemonade.<br />
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My sister-in-life Kate had a dream about Brynn last week. They were playing with a litter of puppies together. Brynn shared with her this wisdom: Gather for yourself the compassion, the joy, and the fun of living as though you were playing with puppies. Give to yourself the love and sweetness that a puppy would evoke. Essentially; be the puppy.<br />
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I woke up with a call to action this morning: Play. Celebrate Brynn today with play. We went sledding down the driveway before school.<br />
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Today I give myself permission to admit to you, and to myself, that I am so grateful that this is my life. I am so freaking grateful for Brynn. For who she is. For what she teaches me. Today I tell you that I would not change a thing. Happy Birthday, lovey.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-30497338982568557942012-12-20T10:58:00.000-05:002012-12-20T10:58:24.355-05:00Truth to ShareWomen and Children.<br />
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I know all too well how all the words fall short in the wake of a tragedy. We are a nation in grief for the little children and their beloved, martyred teachers. For the parents who bought presents that will go unopened on Christmas morning. For the families whose holiday plans have changed from festival to funeral.<br />
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We are a nation trudging through, a little slower from the weight of sadness. <br />
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There has been some controversy over whether or not to tell young children. More specifically, whether it is even possible to shield them from something that is so widespread in conversation and media.<br />
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I could not shield my child from the news that his sister died. I could not shield my child from the reality that Daddy moved out. I didn't mince words. I explained things in terms he could understand, I left the conversation open, I let my sadness show. We handled it.<br />
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There is room here for any variety of opinions, and I trust each parent to make that decision for their child.<br />
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I'm going on record here, as someone who has had experience sharing life's tragic events with my little child, that I see no reason to share what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary with my first-grader. And for awhile there I didn't think I was going to have a choice. I was, and am prepared to have any length of discussion with him about it if he hears about it. I'm not worried about that. <br />
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The truth is, no amount of Security or Gun Control can guarantee our safety. That is the reality. The awareness, the dwelling on thoughts that horrific things can and did happen to the most innocent people, is not going to benefit Shane in any way.<br />
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I appreciate his school so much. More than before. And I am IN LOVE with his teacher. And I'm glad they will begin lock down drills in January, telling the kids it's to be prepared if a skunk should be running down the hall. Can we take a moment to appreciate how precious that is?<br />
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So glad, and yet I understand that in the event of a real emergency, there may still be casualties.<br />
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This morning I told my son all the truth he needs to arm himself in preparation for any catastrophe. I told him that if he ever needs help and I'm not there, to remember that his angels are always there, and ready to help him. That he can ask for whatever help he needs. And that even when I'm not with him, my love is always with him. And that no matter what happens, he will be great.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-62577352822089541872012-11-22T15:40:00.002-05:002012-11-22T15:40:38.672-05:00SurfacingIt is usually easy for me to be thankful. Here in Missouri, with all the cousins, aunts, brothers. I want to enjoy this. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Everyone else here is a two-parent family. It's embarrassing to me that my family is incomplete. It's lonely. And it makes me feel so angry. Last year I was single too, not officially just separated, like I am still. I was so euphoric to be freed from so much ridiculous tension in the house, that somehow it didn't feel this hard.<br />
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It has taken a long time for that euphoria to wear off. And knowing now about the sham, and the fact that I stupidly believed in something that was so obviously not so, makes me want to vomit. I wish I could go back in time about 13 years, and make better decisions. I want desperately to move out of this place in my mind. I'm stuck here. My mind feels like a caged animal searching furiously for the exit.<br />
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I am a sea mammal, living my life in the water, in which I cannot breathe. I need to swim to the surface, where I can see the horizon, the sun's white light, and take in some air. I need that moment of surface time, communing with God. To remember that I am his child, that I am loved, and that there is a beautiful plan and purpose to my life. <br />
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Even though in this moment, it looks like I'm the one that got left out of the plan.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-87642091795144801292012-11-10T14:36:00.001-05:002013-01-19T14:25:35.834-05:00Thankful for It AllWell, I stumbled upon some information this week that I should have been prepared for. I wasn't surprised, but neither was I prepared. This information confirmed the status of the relationship between someone who was once my husband and someone who was once my friend, his female roomate. <br />
<em>Duh</em>, I know.<br />
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OK, so, I'm not ready to write this. Check back in a few days.<br />
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OK, I'm back.<br />
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I am so thankful that the truth is finally in the light. I found out so serendipitously, there is no question that the Angels were involved.<br />
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I am angry. I am hurting. I thought I had grieved this thing fully already. Acceptance of this additional tidbit to my life story, is hard. Accepting this state of affairs brings new pain to my perspective of our marriage and its ending. I realize how soft I've been, how easily manipulated. How unfair I've been to myself, you know, because I was concerned about being fair to someone else. Fair is fair to both parties. And now that I have more of the facts about what is going on, that's how it will be from now on.<br />
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Since Brynn died, I get told a lot about how strong I am. I am kind of tired of everyone talking about how strong I am. I want to be like everyone else, looking at someone else's story thinking how they could never handle it. I don't know how anyone defines strength. I don't think I've ever tried to be strong. I let my tears come. Watching my kids play. While driving. Over green tea at Panera. I don't push the pain out. I feel it, and whisper gentle comforts to myself.<br />
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What I do, when my thoughts wander into that house down the street, is gently bring myself back to my own life. I am in my house, and this story is about me. Not them. If my mind keeps sneaking off to wander into someone else's house, then it's being unfaithful to its purpose. I gently, patiently remind myself, and bring myself back to my highest and best. It feels like breaking an addiction. <br />
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I know Jesus is quoted as saying "Deny Thyself." That seems to get confused into "Don't Love Thyself." Not loving yourself is a much less efficient road, and doesn't lead to good places. I lovingly, patiently, <em>sweetly</em> deny myself from lingering in the places of my mind that postpone healing.<br />
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I am in the business of bringing honor to my sons and daughter, thereby honoring all things. Honor honors everything, and Fair is Fair to everyone. Not everyone chooses this path. <br />
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I am glad for all of this crap. Because you, nor I, know how strong we are until we have to shovel through some of life's crap. A friend likens all of this crap in life as manuer, which seasons and turns to compost, which nourishes all the growing things in our garden. And the work of grief, like shoveling compost, strengthens us. And the strength that I've gained affords me a deeper well from which to draw happiness and peace. My prayer life, I wouldn't trade it for anything. <br />
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I know that you can be just as strong. I recommend starting by mustering up some love for yourself.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-39496559709402281882012-11-04T14:26:00.002-05:002012-11-05T10:53:52.969-05:00Politically SpeakingSo sick of all the election drama? I am too. First of all, I don't understand how people believe any of what either party is saying. Both sides are willing to go to great lengths to get votes. It seems like both Mitt and Barack have decided that too much is at stake to publically connect with their core beliefs. It is far from being that simple.<br />
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I don't watch the debates because I don't see how being a good public speaker, or being good at making your oponent look bad, has anything to do with being a good leader. Charisma is nice, but can be very deceiving. For that matter, I am not interested in anyone's platforms, or any other style of shoe that may be presented to the voters in order to win them over. Its all buzz words, one-liners, words that a team of experts craftily string together in order to make the candidate relatable to the majority of voters. Its amusing how everyone gets so swept up in their own side, without any real understanding. The purpose of the campaign is not to educate, its to gain votes. We are responding to propaganda.<br />
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Both parties appeal to our fears in order to win. I'm afraid Big Bird will lose his job. I'm also <strong>very</strong> afraid of losing funding for education. You might be afraid that your hard-earned dollars are being taken to support the <strong>lazy</strong> lifestyle of someone who should be earning their own money, rather than living off of yours. Perhaps that lazy person doesn't even legally <em>belong</em> here. I get that.<br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;">(that guy offering to help us pack is a Native American, get it? his headress didn't make the cut-off)</span></em><br />
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That said, I'd like to share how I survived the last 14 months as a single mom of a baby and little kid. I am the recipient of Federal Aide. I am willing and able to work, and I spent months applying for every job I remotely qualified for that would enable me to be relatively close to my babies for the majority of hours in any given day. That plan has not panned out yet, and I'm cool with that. I've got angels, and people, and thanks to your tax dollars, my children are clothed, warm at night, and well-fed. <br />
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These funds have kept us physically afloat, and perhaps more importantly, gives me peace. In a confusing, scary, and horribly insecure time in my life, Federal Aide took care of me. Federal Aide was there for me.<br />
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Specifically, Obama's Home Affordable Program. If you don't know about this, it is such a pleasure to introduce you to this brilliant assistance for those of us, and our numbers grow daily, who find it impossible to keep up with our mortgage payment. <a href="http://www.makinghomeaffordable.gov/">www.makinghomeaffordable.gov</a><br />
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If you have had hardship leading to reduced household income, and your mortgage is backed by Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac, the Home Affordable Program has options, reducing your mortgage to 2% for the life or the loan. Contact your lender for more information.<br />
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I have personally benefitted from this president's leadership. And that is real testimony.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-16134333930963874362012-10-18T21:52:00.003-04:002012-10-30T20:35:54.484-04:00It's a MANIFESTO!Sometimes I feel an external pressure that I don't make great enough efforts to preserve my child's innocence. <br />
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In some circumstances, like when it comes to TV, I have been conciously making an effort to change the channel before Spongebob ends and Victorious, or any other teen dramedy begins and sucks him into the cool zone. Yesterday, I made a quick switch from Nickelodeon to National Geographic just in time for Shane to witness the dramatization of a mysterious river monster pulling a bathing toddler under to his demise.<br />
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Did you ever notice how much lying is required in order to preserve a child's innocence? Take Santa Claus, for example. Why do we give all the credit away for our love and creativity, no to mention hard-earned dollars spent? And don't even get me started on the Elf on the Shelf. <br />
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Too late. We got one as a gift. This elf is supposed to move to a different location in the house every night so in the morning your kids think he is returning to the North Pole to report to Santa on their behavior. First of all, this is psychotic behavior management. Second of all, who remembers to move this thing every night?<br />
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After I put the kids to bed, I can't even remember my name half the time. I tried to show Shane how they are sold in boxes at Target, asked him how they could be sold at Target if they were magical and from the North Pole. He has his reasons still, but when it all blows up at least I can say that I tried.<br />
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They are all going to realize at some point that its a sham. What will they think of us then?<em><strong> How will we explain the great lengths we've gone to convince them of something that we know isn't true?</strong></em><br />
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That, and I'm a bad liar. And keeping up the charade is not where I want to invest my energy as a parent.<br />
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When Shane asks a question, it doesn't occur to me to make up an answer because it may be more age-appropriate than the truth. And, can I play this card again? His baby sister died. I could not protect him from that, or from seeing his mother's pain and despondency. He witnessed the tension in the home before Dad moved out. He took it all in while we were elbow-deep in our own egos, fighting over who should make the calzones.<br />
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When I got the phone call that I didn't qualify for the home loan modification, I cried, and I didn't lie about why. I always add that we have plenty of everything we need, and will always. I don't want to burden him with adult problems. I just think that I'm kidding myself if I brush him off when its clear that he has already picked up what I've been throwing down.<br />
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And now that he is starting first grade, I am overwhelmed for so many reasons, but I feel like I'm expected to shove my anxieties deep down, to keep a brave face for him. I do think there is some merit to that logic. I know kids take their cues from us about whether or not a situation is safe, and I want him to take any confidence he can from my sure countenance.<br />
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I just wonder, what if we stopped pretending to have it all together in front of our kids? What if we admit to ourselves that our kids witness things in our behavior that we'd like to protected them from?<br />
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Like, when we completely lose our shit (it happens), we accept this piece of ourselves, apologize, and set an example of how to bounce back from a tantrum?<br />
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Maybe if we allowed ourselves the full range of emotions, instead of protecing children from our feelings, we would show them that it is safe to feel what <em>they</em> are feeling. Moreso, that paying attention to our feelings can help us solve problems and lead us to better situations.<br />
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What if our children didn't feel hushed for their inquiries into territories we deem as inappropriate for them? My belief is that our children would grow more comfortable in their own skin, more comfortable with us, and more comfortable here on the planet. Just plain more comfortable. ok?<br />
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<em></em><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-41875835297441567802012-10-18T21:47:00.001-04:002012-10-22T14:00:19.680-04:00The Better ChoiceAll this election business. My impression is that many Christians see being Republican as the Christian thing to be. That the two go together. I'm going to be honest for awhile here, and it may offend everyone on either side. Republicans scare me. I don't like war. I'm afraid of people that promote it. I also feel that sharing what you have with those in need versus keeping it all for yourself, is the Godly choice. <br />
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Speaking of Choice. Here goes...<br />
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Wait, I'm going to back it up a bit. Those crazy old men and their definitions of consentual, "easy" rape versus legitimate rape is so infuriating that rather than enter into that discussion, I choose to sit back and enjoy their public embarrassment. I'm glad they got "caught" by the media. And I'm glad for the outcry and the conversations that it is starting.<br />
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I don't want those old men passing legislation regarding my rights to my own body. I get that. Yet, as I sit here, far away from those stupid old guys and their insane beliefs and their legislative power that makes this even more insane, as I sit here with my own body and my own thoughts, I am overcome with dedication to a cause that doesn't feel like a political stance in the least.<br />
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Even so, it feels a little uncomfortable to share, in the wake of this media storm, and more importantly to me, in contrast to many of the women that I most closely relate to, that I am pro-life.<br />
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I am pro-life because I believe a decision based on love is always better than a decision based on fear. Love is not convenient, or planned, but I am sure its always the right direction.<br />
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The language of pro-life feels more honest to me. Really, an unplanned pregnancy is a growing person. There may be a tiny little feminist growing inside of you, making every attempt to telepathically communicate to you that she is interested in her own rights to make decisions over the course of her life. A tiny feminist whose cuteness if you let her grow will change your life forever.<br />
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A Life is so much more than one choice. An unplanned pregnancy maybe a huge bump in the road, careening your life off course. I've had my share of bumps, and here is the choice by Grace at long last that I have been able to make: To accept the new course. To connect with the blessings of each road bump. To open myself up to each accosting growth opportunity that the unraveling of dreams can present.<br />
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I am pro-life because I care more about the baby than I do a mother's freedom to choose. There is great wisdom in accepting responsibility for consentual participation in the creation of your child. I believe that there is deep healing when a mother gives herself over to caring for her new life. I believe that the decision to allow an unplanned pregnancey to fulfill the life that's already begun, is as much a step toward more fully living your own life. I feel that the decision to terminate a consentually happened-upon pregnancy could be a step away from your highest and best.<br />
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I am pro-life because I am for children. I believe that our children come to heal us, to help us grow, and to deepen our understanding of life. I believe that a decision to keep a baby is a decision that will always benefit the mother, and so many other lives as well. I will take your unplanned baby. Seriously, give them to me.<br />
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I don't want to take someone's right to choose. But in my humble opinion, there is a better choice. And choosing well will ultimately add joy to the planet. To infinity. And beyond :)<br />
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I am pro-life because in my life, I know that heaven is waiting to connect with you, and ready to help you. I am living proof that divine help is ours for the asking. You can choose LIFE. I believe in you. And I'm not the only one.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-51575373123727440932012-08-24T22:26:00.001-04:002012-08-24T22:33:55.489-04:00For Whatever I'm WorthSometimes when I write an entry, I have a hard time making my point. It might take three or four entries until I see where I've been trying to go. So, all this talk about faith versus anxieties over income, yada yada (did I spell yada right?), came to a point today:<br />
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How I was raised, how many of us were raised, somehow gave us this belief that we have no inherent value. That we have to work hard to somehow make up for the fact that we exist. We must perform and be evaluated to determine our worth, if any.<br />
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So, now I'm trying to live in the belief that I have inherent worth. I'm not doing nothing over here, mind you. I'm doing all the things, morning, noon, and night, to attend to all the needs and many of the whims of my precious children. I want to enjoy these moments but I often feel blocked by the worry. Yet, it makes me feel very uncomfortable not to be worrying about increasing my dollar value. It makes me uncomfortable not to be worrying. That is some good insight right there.<br />
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I am also struggling with the false belief that is the cousin to the previously mentioned false belief: That I can't get anyone to stay with me. Everyone, eventually, will smell my disgusting soul stench and abandon me. Geez, that's embarrassing to admit.<br />
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So, if my words ever seem over-confident here, understand that I am largely writing to encourage myself up out of the mucky muck.<br />
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Here is Big Sister Me's words to Little Sister Me tonight: You are on a journey. Have patience, you have plenty of time. God has not forgotten you. You attract beings to love and who love you, until the relationship no longer serves your highest good. As you grow, you attract higher loves, deeper, more capable loves. Your disgusting soul stench disappears the instant you realize it doesn't exist.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-26841491326530415442012-08-24T13:45:00.001-04:002012-08-24T21:43:24.469-04:00One Kick Butt Summer<object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab" height="425" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/flashslideshowphotobook/slideshow_pb.swf"/><param name="flashvars" value="xmlURL=http%3A%2F%2Fws.shutterfly.com%2Fpsdata%3FprojectGUID%3D1AZNWLJw2ctWcW%26uid%3D005090682152%26size%3D0%26ts%3D1345830283000%26height%3D425%26width%3D425&size=0&ob=0&fc=0&ss=0&sb=0&ft=0"/><param name="menu" value="false"/><param name="quality" value="best"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"/><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/><embed width="425" height="425" align="middle" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" name="wrapper" quality="best" menu="false" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" flashvars="xmlURL=http%3A%2F%2Fws.shutterfly.com%2Fpsdata%3FprojectGUID%3D1AZNWLJw2ctWcW%26uid%3D005090682152%26size%3D0%26ts%3D1345830283000%26height%3D425%26width%3D425&size=0&ob=0&fc=0&ss=0&sb=0&ft=0" src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/flashslideshowphotobook/slideshow_pb.swf"></embed></object><br />
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<a href="http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=1AZNWLJw2ctXEA&cid=SFLYOCWIDGET&eid=115">Click here to view this photo book larger</a><br />
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I remember signing yearbooks at the end of each school year. Everyone, every year, wrote the same thing: "Have a kick ass summer." Well, I finally did.<br />
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We were able to afford to do lots of amazing things, thanks to Living Social deals, coupons, craigslist, and packed lunches.<br />
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I wanted to commemorate it. I made this book for Shane to highlight the special events of our amazing summer. I included (all low quality, I'm afraid) pictures from our Storyland vacation, surfing at Nantasket beach, taking dad on a brunch cruise for Father's Day, and some of my favorite times, just hanging out in our yard. I made it for free through a promotion by joining The Baby Center, and then Shutterfly offered me Ten bucks to post it to my blog, so here ya go!<br />
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Turn your favorite photos into a <a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/photo-books" style="color: #6666cc;">photo book at Shutterfly.com</a>.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-51533234196842660682012-08-21T11:03:00.001-04:002012-08-24T22:32:21.247-04:00Lonely on the ark.<strong>"Maybe God wasn't talking about a literal flood. Maybe he meant a flood of knowledge, or a flood of awareness.."</strong><br />
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTmG9KmGUlXGnaaeOMi5vzRNzPnIEeeusXRnUPXRO_vPtGeyy99jw" imageanchor="1"><img alt="" border="0" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="266" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTmG9KmGUlXGnaaeOMi5vzRNzPnIEeeusXRnUPXRO_vPtGeyy99jw" style="height: 183px; width: 275px;" width="400" /></a><br />
<strong>"If that's true. I'm going to be so pissed."</strong><br />
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I can relate to Evan's sentiment. Sometimes I feel like the lonely girl, standing around on this crazy boat all by myself, waiting for my miracle. <br />
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I do believe in Jesus. I take the Bible literally. It feels a little lonely here sometimes. Sometimes I feel like if someone professes to believe in Jesus,it is assumed that they also shame people of other beliefs, and vote Republican. <br />
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More and more people seem to migrate towards the "spiritual but not religious" category. I know many members of this group were raised in the Church. Traumatized by their upbringing by Christians, in their families maybe. Maybe these individuals were disillusioned by the Christian name to the point that they threw the baby Jesus out with the bathwater. (clever, I know)<br />
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<br />
A close friend and I were discussing our beliefs. Paraphrased, she was saying that the Bible is a historical novel, and the problem with taking it literally is that you base your feelings of right and wrong on something that is from an antiquated time period. Women were property back then, don't you know. That's a good point.<br />
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But I want to believe, I do believe, I'm allowed to believe that all the stories in the Bible are true, and still walk away with a love for Jesus, and gay people, and Jewish people, and even the Republicans ;). <br />
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I don't find anything in the Bible that makes it OK to shame others. Or even ourselves. Pray instead of worry, love love love. I absolutely don't have all the answers. I don't even want all the answers. I just have my Faith. And I want to live as though my purpose here is to love. It's a challenge, because I have grown accustomed to other, less lovely feelings.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-20627164833486335212012-08-18T11:41:00.002-04:002012-08-19T10:51:22.182-04:00Looking at BirdsPeople are worried. I'm getting that feeling. I've alluded to the fact that I haven't made a house payment in over a year. And I don't have a job. Friends have been asking, nudging, stating what I could do for work. I sense that I'm making people nervous. <br />
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Good.<br />
<br />
My whole life, I have taken on big responsabilities. I gave my all to my employers, I dressed to impress, my numbers were good. I have always been motivated to make the most money for my time. Now that I have small children so much moreso. Now that I engage in the work of creating a healing home environment for myself and said children, my price per hour raises all the more. <br />
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I am willing to work. And I have recently, often, looked for work. I have feverishly applied for every job on craigslist that I remotely qualify for. I search the new jobs in my area at Care.com several times a week. It occurs to me, as I attach resumes to emails that highlight my marketable skills, that this feels like a stressful waste of energy. It feels like giving up, and makes me feel nervous, and anxious, and like I am flirting with sacrificing what is best for my family out of fear.<br />
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I consider that I would reach my goal faster by sitting in my rocking chair with a cup of tea and remind God of what I need, and remind myself of all the wonderful possibilities.<br />
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I know, that me + single motherhood + job stress = more yelling at my children = unhappy life. So, I need an income-generating activity that not only pays very well per hour but that is also an activity that reduces stress.<br />
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Buttttt.... You may say, and there are little voices within me that agree with you, being homeless isn't good for the children either. <br />
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<em><span style="color: #274e13;">Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that King Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these...</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #274e13;">Are you not of more value than they? Will he not much more feed and clothe (and house) you?</span></em><br />
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Why am I not worried? I am trying out on a new track. My story is becoming one of the stories that I've heard about, that used to make me feel like I wasn't worthy or good enough, or that I lacked the essential nutrients to make things work out in my life. I'm trying on a new faith. My story is one that all works out, because I'm open to miracles. Because I insist on them.<br />
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<em><span style="color: #274e13;">Therefore do not worry, for your Heavenly Father knows that you need all of these things. Seek first the kingdom of God and all these things shall be added to you.</span></em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-12266232778852045242012-08-01T22:00:00.002-04:002012-08-04T11:29:38.576-04:00A Very Good YearI've been a single mom for a year. This makes me proud, excited, and depressed all at once. I could wax poetic about it all, but I'm too darn tired. And that, my friends, about sums it up.<br />
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I'm adding on here a few days later because I want to give justice to this hallmark. I sacrificed a lot in marriage. As did my husband. Marriage is a beautiful thing, and it is also an extremely hard thing, from my experience and observation. There was a time where I would have sacrificed anything to stay married, but I wasn't given that choice. Now I'm grateful for that fact. And someday I hope to be partnered up with some amazing spirit that is housed in warm flesh and blood, but for now, I am glad for the break. Sometimes I even feel sorry for married people.<br />
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This past year started in a panicked stream of tears. August 2, 2011 I felt untethered to the Earth, and not in a good way. I repeated the phrase "I'm in crisis." I asked for help. I cheered myself up by bringing bright, colorful decor into the home. Without asking anyone. We brought in lots more pets. We started eating meals at the table. I gathered around me, and was gathered into circles of friends that inspire me and support me. I spent evenings reading books filled with wisdom and comfort. It has been one of the best years of my life.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-11433367688326481272012-07-29T22:33:00.002-04:002012-07-29T22:33:43.063-04:00Opportunity AwaitsIt all began when I shared a link on facebook showing my support for gay marriage. I paused before I shared it because I knew that it may spawn a debate, and maybe disappoint some people that I care about to reveal the side I'm on. I have a diverse group of facebook friends. My extended family and friends from my Evangelical private college, and varied other church affliliations, on the whole, don't support the gay <em>lifestyle</em>. I italicized because I feel that's an absurd word choice, but it reflects the viewpoint of the religious right. (I saw a funny bumper sticker recently: The Religious Right are Neither.)<br />
<br />
Most of the fb friends that I've attracted into my life in the last fifteen years are gay-lovers like me. So, there was a little heated tit for tat happening between a psychologist friend and my beloved Uncle. We were accused of holding the <em>popular</em> belief, like some flotsam and jetsom floating along wherever the social current takes us. Well, it got me thinking about my life and views, and now I have something to say.<br />
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In my church and youth fellowships, I was taught that gay people were perverse and icky. In college, I decided that most gay people were victims of childhood sexual abuse. Because at that time, most of the gay people I knew were victims of childhood sexual abuse. A disproportionately large percentage from family members who were also church leaders, I'm behooved to add.<br />
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I took a graduate class in multicultural counseling, and took on the topic of GLBT youth populations for my 30 page paper. I had the opportunity to interview the most precious teenagers. I fell in love with these kids, recognizing that, at the age of 14, they were already doing the work of embracing who they were in the face of tidalwaves of external and internal opposition. They had already stopped trying to be who they were not, and bravely listened to and followed their inner compass. They had something that I wanted, something that alludes so many of us at any age. Authenticity.<br />
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They sure didn't feel <em>popular </em>for their <em>lifestyle</em> choice.<br />
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According to google, GLBT youth are five times more likely to commit suicide than are heterosexual youth. In fact, suicide is the <em><strong>leading cause</strong></em> of death for gay and lesbian youth.<br />
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I have friends who love their faith, who have created beautiful families, but are not welcome to worship in their church of choice.<br />
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Christians, we have been given the <em><strong>opportunity</strong></em> to support our fellow humans, to love our neighbor, and instead the opportunity is taken to condemn and ostracize. Fellow lovers of Christ, this is not what we have been called to do. <br />
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I am not interested at all in the argument of what's wrong and what's right. Could NOT care less. I keep plenty busy focussing on my own salvation, and on loving my neighbor. Plenty busy.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-40305878771079011182012-07-26T22:41:00.000-04:002013-01-19T14:26:31.327-05:00Anxieties, Blessings, EtcI was with a dear old friend, talking, like I have been to many people lately, about my feelings of anxiety. As I described things to her, I listened to my own words like an observer, and heard my thoughts say, "No wonder you have anxiety! How can anyone <em>not</em> have anxiety?"<br />
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I am OK. My daughter is in Heaven and I'm OK. My marriage is over and I'm OK.<br />
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But, getting to OK can HURT. Even while connecting with all of the blessings that both of these life events provided, I think there are places within me that are highly motivated to avoid these types of pains. One of those places is my gaspy breath-drawing part.<br />
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Furthermore, I spend all of my time with children. <br />
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One is a screamer. To live your life in a home with a child who is often screaming or shouting, well, it effects the nervous system.<br />
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The other one is in a phase of life in which he is a constant danger to himself. He is also a constant danger to order, cleanliness, and home structure. He cares not for folded laundry, the white shirt I'm wearing. In the moment it takes to reach for a diaper, he pees on the couch. Currently, he climbs to stand on top of the couch's backrest and leans on the window, pushing out the screen. Constantly! I have to wrestle him into his highchair and strap him down so I can fix meals.<br />
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And, I've said before that there is a nagging feeling that I should be more worried about money. I think that nagging feeling is the old, unnecessary pattern that I've repeated all of my life, and it wants to stay. Even though I don't need it anymore. My God will provide. I need to repeat that over and over until the worry goes away.<br />
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One of the things maybe I didn't do so well in my marriage was to show appreciation, either publicly or privately. Well, if I tried, it didn't seem to get through. So, in my new partnership, one of the things I feel like practicing, is showing my gratitude. Genuinely. <br />
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And, in the spirit of publicly sharing my appreciation, I want to speak plainly that I am a follower of Jesus. Not a follower of the judgments and condemnations that churches professing to follow Jesus make. It makes me sad that there is a difference, but its important to me that you know that I don't wish to be associated with any group thats about anything other than loving thy neighbor. Even a little bit. And that I can distinguish between the two and so fully and unashamed enter into a loving relationship with Him. And share my appreciation for Him without fear of judgment.<br />
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I feel I have an opportunity here to share my anxieties and hurts and situations because I have absolute faith that my God will provide, and I will share that part of the story too in hopes of encouraging others.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-39550614045878199802012-07-20T14:30:00.002-04:002012-07-26T14:48:47.035-04:00Enjoying the RideI did something I'm really proud of. I took my boys on a vacation to Story Land in New Hampshire's White Mountain Region, which is like Mecca for New England children. I planned it, found discount everything and paid for it with money I still had saved from work that ended months ago. And even though I had anxieties about things going wildly wrong, nothing went wrong. In fact, some things seemed miraculous We played in the Ellis River, swam in the pool, drove to McDonalds with a playspace, then played in an outdoor playground, got ice cream and walked the quaint shops of North Conway, got in the car and while Noah napped we drove up the white mountains, got a bumper sticker that said This Car Climbed Mt. Washington (I've always wanted this bumper sticker!), then went to Story Land, got pizza for dinner and drove around at twilight on a self-guided Moose Tour, all in ONE day.<br />
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As I drove home last night, the kids sleeping, I got a peaceful feeling. More than peaceful, inspired. My anxieties were nullified. As I go along living my life, I often wonder if I'm doing it OK. You know, "it", as in everything. I am constantly putting my actions on a scale, rating, wondering how am I doing ... driving home, I got a break from that self-judgment. I am satisfied with how I did for these three days.<br />
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This all coming together seems really significant to me. I did this for us. All by myself. This was our very first family vacation.<br />
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I just reread this. True there was no other adult in the car or hotel room with us, but I had a partner with me every step of the way, and I owe one sweet Lord some props. Thank you, to the most sweetest partner.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-3398568399275291562012-07-15T11:27:00.000-04:002012-07-15T11:27:02.151-04:00What CrazySo, I have faith. Since I've been on my own, and, you know, not "working" I have less money, I guess, but because I am in control of it all, it feels like enough. I can't remember ever feeling that way about money before.<br />
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I have faith about money. But then, sometimes having faith feels like I'm being lazy. If I'm not obsessing over it, then I'm not doing my part. So then I feel guilty for being lazy. I feel my stress level increase because for some reason feeling like I'm being lazy is just, I can't live with it. I would rather give myself an ulcer because then at least nobody could say I didn't do anything about it. <br />
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My belly increases from the stress hormone. My clothes don't fit anymore, so that's another thing to be depressed about.<br />
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This is what its like to be completely insane.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1319086544183805992.post-11695638241997311252012-07-13T21:05:00.001-04:002013-01-19T14:27:00.282-05:00Lightening UpThere are worse parents than me. No doubt there are better parents than me. But I don't know of any parent who spends more time and energy thinking about parenting than I do. This is more a confession of psychosis than a one-upmanship. I'm still surprised, often, at how hard this shit is. With all my life-long love and dedication to children, with all my advocacy work, with all my education, I find myself at a loss with the job of parenting. One of my dearest friends is battling breast cancer. She's handled chemo, double masectomy, and now radiation. She told me yesterday that parenting is harder than any of it!<br />
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I am working on not taking the battle of wills personally. I engage in almost constant inner-dialogue to this effect. "Don't take it personally, he doesn't mean it, he's just a kid, breath, take a break... Oh, you just broke his slingshot in a fit of rage... oh, the downward spiral of guilt and blame, ok try breathing again... forget it, you suck at this."<br />
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It occurs to me that all this thought and energy on my improved parenting may not be benefitting the kids one iota. It occurs to me that the part of me so affected by how my child behaves may be my ego. I believe in parenting with unconditional love, but I may not have the self-confidence to do that quite yet.<br />
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Recently I participated in a guided meditation. I was following along with the imagery of the field, the sun, and the trees when I received a divine message, which I absolutely needed to receive in my life at this moment. The Heavens had spoken, and in no uncertain terms proclaimeth unto me this lasting truth: "You have got to lighten up."<br />
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Amen. I spent the rest of the meditation with a huge grin and tears streaming down.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0