Mirrors have always fascinated me.
When a child, Mom and Dad (note the teamwork represented in my memory of facts) installed sliding mirror doors on our closets in all of the bedrooms in the house. I would sit in front of that sliding piece of vanity-inducing goodness for hours, often merely playing solitaire, a long-time favorite choice of personal entertainment. Or I would pretend to be a rock star.
This set-up proved most valuable when there were two teenage daughters in the house; instead of dominating the bathroom, our precious hair-care routine took place in our individual rooms.
My parents were so smart! However, the fact I could see my entire body when getting dressed did not assist me much in putting together ensembles that did not completely clash. After having taught those ages in a completely different culture than my own, I have come to decide that is a developmental stage, so-called color and pattern blindness and the desire to have one's own style not dictated to by anyone else.
That was Me.
I remember the night my maternal grandmother died. We got The Call at 2 a.m. and never went back to sleep. Nobody did. A major heart attack claimed my 62 year old Grandma in the middle of the night. (Yes, I am wearing red this coming Friday. Please join me.) I sat up the rest of the night, listening to the screaming anguish of my mother, my father making seemingly endless phone calls, lamp on, door cracked but not entirely closed (we had a no-closed door policy in my house; cracked was fine, no firm closure permitted), shuffling cards, listening to KTMT. Tears for Fears' song "Shout" must have been Billboard's #1 that week; it played all day long and every time I hear that song to this day I am carried back to that day when I sat in front of my mirror doors, playing Klondike or Four Aces or Clock or 13 pyramid...whatever...and watched myself cry and cry silent tears while Mom screamed the pain of her soul out. I was fourteen.
Mirrors later became an obsession. If there were anything into which I could catch a glance of my reflection, I would search it out to ensure hair was in place, the little make-up I wore was okay, nothing in my teeth; I had my secret checklist that would be fulfilled in car windows, oven doors and glass picture frames.
Undoing this vain practice has proved difficult. Even at an age in which I should now feel comfortable with who I am and how I represent myself to the world, I seek out my reflection constantly, same checklist in mind.
Perhaps I try to find something deeper, that little "spark" or detail that everyone else seems to see in me but that I cannot see in myself. If I look in enough mirrors, will that ever give me the opportunity to see me as others do?
Mirrors represent a constant search for a me that I, evidently, am not yet certain truly exists except through the eyes of others. What do mirrors represent for you?
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta llife. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta llife. Mostrar todas las entradas
domingo, 1 de febrero de 2009
lunes, 26 de enero de 2009
editing my life away
I did a lot of that today, on my book, so that is good. It was a High Progress Day...one new student @ twice a week, passport photos taken of the kids (decided that, since He is off more likely than not soon, I had better get everything done that requires both parents' signatures...) and iPod kids mix updates done. Made a healthy AND delicious dinner, then settled back onto my darling laptop to edit the heck out of seven chapters.
Phew!
But it's getting done.
So this is a mundane post, but at least I am here and am still reading you...I just know that, once He is gone, I will have zero book-working time left (tonight is one of his nights with the kids) so I must get as much done as humanly possible now.
Oh, by the way: I can eat Haagen-Dasz' Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream. No soy in that, baby. The details sure do add up to getting myself back up to a certain quality of life standard.
Time to finish my ice cream and rest these tired brain cells for the night. Excuse the "so this is what I did today" post. Can't think much deeper than that right now, and I know I must be thankful for all I did, in fact, accomplish in a mere 24 hour period today.
Phew!
But it's getting done.
So this is a mundane post, but at least I am here and am still reading you...I just know that, once He is gone, I will have zero book-working time left (tonight is one of his nights with the kids) so I must get as much done as humanly possible now.
Oh, by the way: I can eat Haagen-Dasz' Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream. No soy in that, baby. The details sure do add up to getting myself back up to a certain quality of life standard.
Time to finish my ice cream and rest these tired brain cells for the night. Excuse the "so this is what I did today" post. Can't think much deeper than that right now, and I know I must be thankful for all I did, in fact, accomplish in a mere 24 hour period today.
domingo, 18 de enero de 2009
conflicted
He is on standby.
On the list, He is #1 on the list for his rank to be called out for a year of service.
This doesn't mean *necessarily* Iraq or Afghanistan. Upon learning more about it last night, He will go where there is need for his rank--Navy Captain. That could be anywhere...including, of course, where the pirate activity is occuring off the Somali coast of Africa. And as He is an active reservist, not IRR, He is not being called up against his will. Even though He has had three years active duty time and time during Desert Shield/Desert Storm so long ago, it is possible the rotation has been exhausted for his designator. Or that they don't count the aforementioned time.
The chances are 2:3 that He will go. He'll get 60 days' notice.
I sat down and told him that, even though we can't live in the same house, that doesn't mean I want him to go off to war. Main reason being, I don't particularly want my children to not have a father for a year. The one person who I have told about this possibility said, "Well, now you'd finally have what you wanted." I don't see what she is talking about; I want a separation, not for him to disappear. I have never said that. Remember, I won't even consider moving away because I feel so strongly about the children having time with their father. I want the children to have quality time with both of us, not just with me--as I know I need a break, too.
And selfishly (because I am essentially selfish), I know that I also have no family support here. Calling on friends is hardly an option as all the children are all so much older and everyone is so deeply involved in their own heavy schedule of activities; yet my children are still yet too young, by law, to leave home alone. But such is Life. Again, not quite what I had signed up for.
But I will figure it out. I always do!
So then I wonder if I shouldn't just try to make this work. I don't know--to give him some hope or something. Not for me, but for Him. But, as my friend pointed out, He would return in a year and we'd be back in the same situation: He thinking all is hunky-dorey and me, discontented and unfulfilled.
And, really, all is simply in theory as the earliest he could be recalled would be 1 April. So until a 60 day notice comes up, Life must continue on as normal. Just impossible to make any long-term plans for travel on my part; my trip to South America this year may not happen...or I'd just have to take the kids with me...but then I'd need to get passports for them both...hmm. Must think about this now, mustn't I?
On the list, He is #1 on the list for his rank to be called out for a year of service.
This doesn't mean *necessarily* Iraq or Afghanistan. Upon learning more about it last night, He will go where there is need for his rank--Navy Captain. That could be anywhere...including, of course, where the pirate activity is occuring off the Somali coast of Africa. And as He is an active reservist, not IRR, He is not being called up against his will. Even though He has had three years active duty time and time during Desert Shield/Desert Storm so long ago, it is possible the rotation has been exhausted for his designator. Or that they don't count the aforementioned time.
The chances are 2:3 that He will go. He'll get 60 days' notice.
I sat down and told him that, even though we can't live in the same house, that doesn't mean I want him to go off to war. Main reason being, I don't particularly want my children to not have a father for a year. The one person who I have told about this possibility said, "Well, now you'd finally have what you wanted." I don't see what she is talking about; I want a separation, not for him to disappear. I have never said that. Remember, I won't even consider moving away because I feel so strongly about the children having time with their father. I want the children to have quality time with both of us, not just with me--as I know I need a break, too.
And selfishly (because I am essentially selfish), I know that I also have no family support here. Calling on friends is hardly an option as all the children are all so much older and everyone is so deeply involved in their own heavy schedule of activities; yet my children are still yet too young, by law, to leave home alone. But such is Life. Again, not quite what I had signed up for.
But I will figure it out. I always do!
So then I wonder if I shouldn't just try to make this work. I don't know--to give him some hope or something. Not for me, but for Him. But, as my friend pointed out, He would return in a year and we'd be back in the same situation: He thinking all is hunky-dorey and me, discontented and unfulfilled.
And, really, all is simply in theory as the earliest he could be recalled would be 1 April. So until a 60 day notice comes up, Life must continue on as normal. Just impossible to make any long-term plans for travel on my part; my trip to South America this year may not happen...or I'd just have to take the kids with me...but then I'd need to get passports for them both...hmm. Must think about this now, mustn't I?
martes, 13 de enero de 2009
So, whaddya want from me?
A local AP tutoring firm contacted me, with an email line stating they had "Desperate Need for AP Spanish Tutor." Interesting, I thought, and I responded that I would be interested, provided that such contract employment would be on my terms, not theirs (business for me, currently, is not hurting).
My terms being that 1) all classes are held in my home classroom, and 2) my pay is $50/hour.
I received a response inquiring where my classroom was located. Then a follow-up asking me to send my CV and three references. Sure, not a problem...striking me a bit as funny as HE had searched ME out to offer ME a position (evidently responding to my CraigsList ad). However, I said I would send everything only pendent upon my pay being commesurate with my going rates.
He emailed back requesting a meeting with me as soon as possible. I told him that, due to my teaching schedule, I am unable to meet with him before Friday morning. Knowing full well, of course, that his only purpose in seeing me face-to-face was to try to talk me down from my going rates.
He then began to get upset, evidently, in his email, wondering what kind of time I would have to dedicate to his students if the earliest I could come to him is Friday morning. I fired back that I stay at home teaching so that I can be a mother for my two young children as well, 'sir'. That permits me to have students while having my children at home and working around my schedule as, most importantly, a parent first. My students all understand and, above all, respect that in me.
I then said that, if that is not an acceptable arrangement for your company, then we are perhaps not a good match.
He didn't appreciate that response, as I received a rather snide comment back about my "TEACHING SCHEDULE" permitting. I do have students Monday-Thursday afternoon/early evening, then children pick-up from school, dinners to prepare, etc. I have my limits; hence what I have chosen to do--while earning more money than I did at the Uni working their hours. Plus, by now my feathers are a bit fluffed; I did not go to him asking for employment. He, instead, was "desperately seeking a Spanish AP tutor" and sought me out. Then had the nerve to switch the table to feed his own ego? make me seem like the bad guy? I'm not exactly sure, but it didn't work as he has lost one hell of an excellent prospective tutor that he sought and then proceeded to chase away.
It was today that I realized how far I have come in such a short time in my business. Whereas two years ago I would have jumped like a puppy through whatever hoop this man had set out and complied with whatever pittance had been tossed my way, I have learned that my name has gotten out, I have regular students and recommended students alike who I have earned all by myself, with no need for a school or an agency for matchmaking. I don't have to take the crap he was trying to deal out anymore, and I would not have enjoyed working for someone like that. My sympathies to those who do work for him.
In my final email of this exchange I did thank him for his interest...! Queen of the subversive jabs am I!
(and just to let you know---I really, really derive great pleasure from coming out on top of such pettiness!)
My terms being that 1) all classes are held in my home classroom, and 2) my pay is $50/hour.
I received a response inquiring where my classroom was located. Then a follow-up asking me to send my CV and three references. Sure, not a problem...striking me a bit as funny as HE had searched ME out to offer ME a position (evidently responding to my CraigsList ad). However, I said I would send everything only pendent upon my pay being commesurate with my going rates.
He emailed back requesting a meeting with me as soon as possible. I told him that, due to my teaching schedule, I am unable to meet with him before Friday morning. Knowing full well, of course, that his only purpose in seeing me face-to-face was to try to talk me down from my going rates.
He then began to get upset, evidently, in his email, wondering what kind of time I would have to dedicate to his students if the earliest I could come to him is Friday morning. I fired back that I stay at home teaching so that I can be a mother for my two young children as well, 'sir'. That permits me to have students while having my children at home and working around my schedule as, most importantly, a parent first. My students all understand and, above all, respect that in me.
I then said that, if that is not an acceptable arrangement for your company, then we are perhaps not a good match.
He didn't appreciate that response, as I received a rather snide comment back about my "TEACHING SCHEDULE" permitting. I do have students Monday-Thursday afternoon/early evening, then children pick-up from school, dinners to prepare, etc. I have my limits; hence what I have chosen to do--while earning more money than I did at the Uni working their hours. Plus, by now my feathers are a bit fluffed; I did not go to him asking for employment. He, instead, was "desperately seeking a Spanish AP tutor" and sought me out. Then had the nerve to switch the table to feed his own ego? make me seem like the bad guy? I'm not exactly sure, but it didn't work as he has lost one hell of an excellent prospective tutor that he sought and then proceeded to chase away.
It was today that I realized how far I have come in such a short time in my business. Whereas two years ago I would have jumped like a puppy through whatever hoop this man had set out and complied with whatever pittance had been tossed my way, I have learned that my name has gotten out, I have regular students and recommended students alike who I have earned all by myself, with no need for a school or an agency for matchmaking. I don't have to take the crap he was trying to deal out anymore, and I would not have enjoyed working for someone like that. My sympathies to those who do work for him.
In my final email of this exchange I did thank him for his interest...! Queen of the subversive jabs am I!
(and just to let you know---I really, really derive great pleasure from coming out on top of such pettiness!)
lunes, 12 de enero de 2009
dreaming of stilettos
They were black, sexy stiletto dress shoes, to be worn with a sexy black dress. I found them and wanted them, even though I have yet to ever wear stilettos.
With my long legs and the perfect length dress, I would be--well, invincible.
*---*
I am going to an Inauguration Ball, hosted by a couple I have been teaching for almost two years who were kind enough to invite their young Spanish teacher to share in next week's fun. My date is a girlfriend, a fellow mother of a classmate of La Princesita who lives around the corner. Black tie; should be a lot of fun. However, I don't really have a black-tie dress.
I have a week. I will see what I can figure out. She-ra suggested I raid the closet of her babysitter, an 18-year old away at college. Is that a compliment or a jab? :)
*---*
I have had a new surge of Life. I feel good, I feel like I look good, and I take my stiletto dream as an embracing of the sensuality I have permitted to reenter my life. Granted, this sexual validation comes from a battery-operation fallus (which I cannot seem to quite get enough of right now) but I choose to see this as a first-of-the-year pick-me-up that usually does not hit until the sun begins to shine with more direct rays in the springtime.
And I feel good.
Now to find a dress. And, if the mood hits, maybe I will find stilettos for the night...but don't hold your breath.
With my long legs and the perfect length dress, I would be--well, invincible.
*---*
I am going to an Inauguration Ball, hosted by a couple I have been teaching for almost two years who were kind enough to invite their young Spanish teacher to share in next week's fun. My date is a girlfriend, a fellow mother of a classmate of La Princesita who lives around the corner. Black tie; should be a lot of fun. However, I don't really have a black-tie dress.
I have a week. I will see what I can figure out. She-ra suggested I raid the closet of her babysitter, an 18-year old away at college. Is that a compliment or a jab? :)
*---*
I have had a new surge of Life. I feel good, I feel like I look good, and I take my stiletto dream as an embracing of the sensuality I have permitted to reenter my life. Granted, this sexual validation comes from a battery-operation fallus (which I cannot seem to quite get enough of right now) but I choose to see this as a first-of-the-year pick-me-up that usually does not hit until the sun begins to shine with more direct rays in the springtime.
And I feel good.
Now to find a dress. And, if the mood hits, maybe I will find stilettos for the night...but don't hold your breath.
sábado, 10 de enero de 2009
I have my bed back
Young Prince has moved out and fully into his Big Boy Bed. Yes, he is 4 1/2. But I had an "until 5 at the latest" rule. Exceptions include nightmares and big storms. Otherwise, everyone OUT!
I am enjoying my king-sized bliss--all by myself.
The first morning I have not yet had to be up and out for any reason, I took advantage to dust off my (former) dead battery case. You know the one--big, purple with pearl action. And ears.
Ah, why I had I abandoned thee? What an absolutely glorious way to begin a Saturday.
I am enjoying my king-sized bliss--all by myself.
The first morning I have not yet had to be up and out for any reason, I took advantage to dust off my (former) dead battery case. You know the one--big, purple with pearl action. And ears.
Ah, why I had I abandoned thee? What an absolutely glorious way to begin a Saturday.
***
In order to fully enjoy the effects of my little purple Peter Rabbit, I have to conjure in my mind the picture of him. The only man I have ever loved; the only one, in the history of my lovers, to have ever raised me to the heights of bliss just by a look. The only with whom I could fight and look forward to our reconciliation...and who would come after me when I never would admit I wanted to be chased. The only who would love to create with me as a team, be it a meal or a project, or even a work of art. The only who could tell by the tone of my written word--not even voice--my mood. The only one felt challenged by me yet not intimidated by my powerful and very complex spirit. The only one who could make me laugh and cry and feel valid no matter what, because of an acceptance of who I am. The only one who physically fit me as if we had been created for each other.
To experience a love like this makes everything else so gray by comparision. Unfair it is, really; nobody else could ever have a chance in my life. Having such a partner by my side like that, I feel invincible. I am learning to find this strength within myself. Some days are better than others, but I know this will be a good year. I am prepared to make it so.
And with a little help from my friend, all the better!
To experience a love like this makes everything else so gray by comparision. Unfair it is, really; nobody else could ever have a chance in my life. Having such a partner by my side like that, I feel invincible. I am learning to find this strength within myself. Some days are better than others, but I know this will be a good year. I am prepared to make it so.
And with a little help from my friend, all the better!
miércoles, 7 de enero de 2009
mistaken signals
I am beginning a new phase of life.
This has greeted me with a new perspective and a fresh, confident ideal of not wanting or needing to find companionship on a romantic level. There is so much freedom in knowing that I don't need to have that to feel fulfilled, and the resulting strength is empowering.
However, I find myself at a crossroads because I think my ideal of finding men to pass platonic time with is just that: an ideal, a fantasy, something that I will probably not find. I recently had the opportunity to watch movies one evening with a male friend, for whom I feel no particular spark but who is wonderful company, extremely handsome and at a similar life stage. It was nice, platonic, no pressure felt and very comfortable.
When relating this evening spent in nice friendly company to my female friends, I am surprised at the reactions; namely that I am being naive to think that any man would not invest time like that if he didn't have deeper interest, in hopes that this would develop eventually into more. "Men can have all the patience in the world until they get what they want."
Perhaps that assessment is correct. Perhaps I am being naive. It would be nice to have a single person, woman or man, to be able to call and get together from time to time and just enjoy each other's company, much akin to how I spent this past weekend with my girlfriend from grad school, but without having to get on an airplane to do so. Even better if that person is also a parent, if only for the empathy and comprehension aspect. I simply have no desire, nor am legally able, to develop any relationship deeper than a friendship level, yet am starting to carry doubts of the existence of this no-expectation type of connection at this stage of life.
This has greeted me with a new perspective and a fresh, confident ideal of not wanting or needing to find companionship on a romantic level. There is so much freedom in knowing that I don't need to have that to feel fulfilled, and the resulting strength is empowering.
However, I find myself at a crossroads because I think my ideal of finding men to pass platonic time with is just that: an ideal, a fantasy, something that I will probably not find. I recently had the opportunity to watch movies one evening with a male friend, for whom I feel no particular spark but who is wonderful company, extremely handsome and at a similar life stage. It was nice, platonic, no pressure felt and very comfortable.
When relating this evening spent in nice friendly company to my female friends, I am surprised at the reactions; namely that I am being naive to think that any man would not invest time like that if he didn't have deeper interest, in hopes that this would develop eventually into more. "Men can have all the patience in the world until they get what they want."
Perhaps that assessment is correct. Perhaps I am being naive. It would be nice to have a single person, woman or man, to be able to call and get together from time to time and just enjoy each other's company, much akin to how I spent this past weekend with my girlfriend from grad school, but without having to get on an airplane to do so. Even better if that person is also a parent, if only for the empathy and comprehension aspect. I simply have no desire, nor am legally able, to develop any relationship deeper than a friendship level, yet am starting to carry doubts of the existence of this no-expectation type of connection at this stage of life.
martes, 6 de enero de 2009
feeling shattered
Oh no...heavens, NOTHING like what was going on Last Year at this time!
I fell down the stairs today.
Fortunately not all 13 of them. Only about the bottom 1/2...ouch. And unlike a seasoned faller who would know to not to fight the feeling, I reached out, grabbed the banister and promptly twisted my body into landing in a contorted heap at the base of the steps.
And they were the indoor, not the outdoor, steps, so it was all my doing and not to be blamed on some random showing of ice.
I somehow managed to drive myself to the chiropractor, where for the second time in two weeks he had me in tears popping me into place. But I am prescribed ice therapy, "as much as I can" tonight as my left shoulder and the base of my neck is completely swollen (dude, no wonder it hurts so bad!) and to, um, 'pop' back in tomorrow so he can torture me a bit more into place.
So I will sit and give thanks for laptops as my neck ices and I plan the rest of the week's classes.
Side note updates:
My weekend away to Georgia was lovely. My girlfriend and I had not seen each other in about 4 years, and we desperately needed some catch-up time. Watched some old movies, one newer flick and did some shopping. Swapped class ideas and voila! We could have technically written that weekend off for taxes.
My mother is up to old antics again. The Christmas Letter included a lovely guilt trip blatantly directed at this Mama Llama about what a crappy daughter I am to keep her grandchildren at such a distance. She has also rejected the name that my daughter, the first grandchild of the family, gave to her. My sister and her husband are angry with her about this as well, and it makes it very hard to even make the efforts to pick up the phone. I'm getting tired of it. I guess the webcam I bought her for Christmas went over like a lead balloon. Can't say I don't make an effort. I just need to smart up and stop making the efforts...
...if she weren't my mother, it would be so easy.
As far as my Rocking Resolution list goes, I am doing well so far. Granted, we're only a week into the New Year, but still...
And with that I go back to the ice.
I fell down the stairs today.
Fortunately not all 13 of them. Only about the bottom 1/2...ouch. And unlike a seasoned faller who would know to not to fight the feeling, I reached out, grabbed the banister and promptly twisted my body into landing in a contorted heap at the base of the steps.
And they were the indoor, not the outdoor, steps, so it was all my doing and not to be blamed on some random showing of ice.
I somehow managed to drive myself to the chiropractor, where for the second time in two weeks he had me in tears popping me into place. But I am prescribed ice therapy, "as much as I can" tonight as my left shoulder and the base of my neck is completely swollen (dude, no wonder it hurts so bad!) and to, um, 'pop' back in tomorrow so he can torture me a bit more into place.
So I will sit and give thanks for laptops as my neck ices and I plan the rest of the week's classes.
Side note updates:
My weekend away to Georgia was lovely. My girlfriend and I had not seen each other in about 4 years, and we desperately needed some catch-up time. Watched some old movies, one newer flick and did some shopping. Swapped class ideas and voila! We could have technically written that weekend off for taxes.
My mother is up to old antics again. The Christmas Letter included a lovely guilt trip blatantly directed at this Mama Llama about what a crappy daughter I am to keep her grandchildren at such a distance. She has also rejected the name that my daughter, the first grandchild of the family, gave to her. My sister and her husband are angry with her about this as well, and it makes it very hard to even make the efforts to pick up the phone. I'm getting tired of it. I guess the webcam I bought her for Christmas went over like a lead balloon. Can't say I don't make an effort. I just need to smart up and stop making the efforts...
...if she weren't my mother, it would be so easy.
As far as my Rocking Resolution list goes, I am doing well so far. Granted, we're only a week into the New Year, but still...
And with that I go back to the ice.
jueves, 1 de enero de 2009
reflections on the old; resolutions in the new
Ah, 2008 is gone. History.
I began the month of December in quite a funk, not only due to the memory of and added loss but also due to what I perceived to have been a failure of a year. I wanted to have acheived my separation in 2008 and that did not happen.
However, I could not see at that point the great strides I have indeed made. What might seem like baby steps to some are huge to me. I have Him talking now in terms of "my weekend" vs. "his weekend" with the kids. I am no longer sitting home and crying during his time with the children; I am being productive, going out, enjoying my life and making the most of the freedom I have, trying to relax as much as possible so as to be a better mother when they are mine again. I am overcoming a fear of going out and doing things on my own; my basic insecurities that have ruled my life for so long are beign dismissed and I am coming out stronger and much more self-defined as a result.
And I am trying to laugh more.
That is how 2008 ended for me. What will 2009 have in store?
I want to build my business up just a bit more, as my youngest will be in school five mornings a week this coming year.
I want to cook more, bake more and eat out less.
I want to depend more on tea and less on coffee to keep my eyes open during the day.
Walk/bike more, drive less.
Simplify my life; less expenses, more experiences.
Develop more self-discipline regarding my computer use.
Define my various paths in my life.
Rid my life of that which is toxic and surround myself with healthy people and experiences.
More salads, less sweets.
More exercise, fewer excuses.
Get my backyard back into shape.
Ensure all in my life know who they are and what their roles in my life are; and conversely define what my role in their lives is.
Ascertain that He and I are playing on the same field, with the same expectations--about which, right now, I have an uncertain vibe resonating deep within me.
Start working on getting over my fear of confrontation.
Go somewhere I have never before been.
A new, different passport stamp? Hmmmm...would be nice!
Be the best mother I can be, and give thanks for these two greatest gifts I have been given each and every day of my life.
Keep a cleaner house.
Love more, live more; worry and resent less.
Let things go.
Be well.
I began the month of December in quite a funk, not only due to the memory of and added loss but also due to what I perceived to have been a failure of a year. I wanted to have acheived my separation in 2008 and that did not happen.
However, I could not see at that point the great strides I have indeed made. What might seem like baby steps to some are huge to me. I have Him talking now in terms of "my weekend" vs. "his weekend" with the kids. I am no longer sitting home and crying during his time with the children; I am being productive, going out, enjoying my life and making the most of the freedom I have, trying to relax as much as possible so as to be a better mother when they are mine again. I am overcoming a fear of going out and doing things on my own; my basic insecurities that have ruled my life for so long are beign dismissed and I am coming out stronger and much more self-defined as a result.
And I am trying to laugh more.
That is how 2008 ended for me. What will 2009 have in store?
I want to build my business up just a bit more, as my youngest will be in school five mornings a week this coming year.
I want to cook more, bake more and eat out less.
I want to depend more on tea and less on coffee to keep my eyes open during the day.
Walk/bike more, drive less.
Simplify my life; less expenses, more experiences.
Develop more self-discipline regarding my computer use.
Define my various paths in my life.
Rid my life of that which is toxic and surround myself with healthy people and experiences.
More salads, less sweets.
More exercise, fewer excuses.
Get my backyard back into shape.
Ensure all in my life know who they are and what their roles in my life are; and conversely define what my role in their lives is.
Ascertain that He and I are playing on the same field, with the same expectations--about which, right now, I have an uncertain vibe resonating deep within me.
Start working on getting over my fear of confrontation.
Go somewhere I have never before been.
A new, different passport stamp? Hmmmm...would be nice!
Be the best mother I can be, and give thanks for these two greatest gifts I have been given each and every day of my life.
Keep a cleaner house.
Love more, live more; worry and resent less.
Let things go.
Be well.
sábado, 20 de diciembre de 2008
Great insights from Delilah
Is that how she spells her name?
You know, the one who has that radio show that plays on most commercial pop/easy listening stations on weeknights, who gets phone calls from listeners and either gives them advice or allows them to vent their issues.
Last night, while finishing the Christmas cookie cut-and-bake, I was tuning into her show as that is the programming on the local Christmas Tunes Radio Station on that particular Friday night. One caller said that she wanted to tell her husband how much she loved him. They have been married 5 years, known each other 11 total. Delilah then asked her one simple question:
What is the greatest thing that he has done for you?
Her answer?
He makes me feel that I am valuable. He loves me for who I am, he allows me to be me.
So, he makes you feel comfortable in your own skin?
Oh, yes.
Something very powerful hit me at that moment. I had never even considered this as one of my huge problems, although one of my most pressing questions of late has been what has happened to the me I used to be? My self-esteem is gone, I am NOT the self-confident, independent woman I once was.
What happened to me?
And a flood of images, of memories, of things said washed over me. How he would tell me after meetings or groups we were part of that I ought not talk so much, that I dominated, that I was a braggart or boastful. How I had to act a certain way at his professional (military) functions...fortunately I had been trained in the art of working a crowd back in the day so I could handle myself "appropriately" to his standards. How I was attacked verbally in front of five other couples during a Valentine's dinner party for helping to clean the dishes because "as guests we do not help clean up."
These are examples of many such censorships of my character and of who I am intrinsically...examples of how he has never made me feel comfortable to be me, or that I am just somehow "not good enough" for whatever his standards are.
Hence my destroyed self-esteem.
Damn him for doing this to me.
I can't believe I haven't seen this before. But I feel so empowered today in coming to see this; a first step in the rebuilding of Mama Llama, to the strong and independent Llama I once was...
...if not better!
You know, the one who has that radio show that plays on most commercial pop/easy listening stations on weeknights, who gets phone calls from listeners and either gives them advice or allows them to vent their issues.
Last night, while finishing the Christmas cookie cut-and-bake, I was tuning into her show as that is the programming on the local Christmas Tunes Radio Station on that particular Friday night. One caller said that she wanted to tell her husband how much she loved him. They have been married 5 years, known each other 11 total. Delilah then asked her one simple question:
What is the greatest thing that he has done for you?
Her answer?
He makes me feel that I am valuable. He loves me for who I am, he allows me to be me.
So, he makes you feel comfortable in your own skin?
Oh, yes.
Something very powerful hit me at that moment. I had never even considered this as one of my huge problems, although one of my most pressing questions of late has been what has happened to the me I used to be? My self-esteem is gone, I am NOT the self-confident, independent woman I once was.
What happened to me?
And a flood of images, of memories, of things said washed over me. How he would tell me after meetings or groups we were part of that I ought not talk so much, that I dominated, that I was a braggart or boastful. How I had to act a certain way at his professional (military) functions...fortunately I had been trained in the art of working a crowd back in the day so I could handle myself "appropriately" to his standards. How I was attacked verbally in front of five other couples during a Valentine's dinner party for helping to clean the dishes because "as guests we do not help clean up."
These are examples of many such censorships of my character and of who I am intrinsically...examples of how he has never made me feel comfortable to be me, or that I am just somehow "not good enough" for whatever his standards are.
Hence my destroyed self-esteem.
Damn him for doing this to me.
I can't believe I haven't seen this before. But I feel so empowered today in coming to see this; a first step in the rebuilding of Mama Llama, to the strong and independent Llama I once was...
...if not better!
miércoles, 17 de diciembre de 2008
at a loss
The always dreaded anniversary of Dad's death came and went. There are always lots of flashbacks, it's almost eerie how I feel that time-travel sensation going back to moments throughout the day, each year, of one of the worst days of my life.
But it passed. And rather well, so I thought.
Then the phone rang. Caller ID said it was my mother.
She never calls me, so I knew someone had died.
She had to put her cat to sleep today. Barely an adult, only a four year old cat, it had apparently been born with some disease whose name escapes me, but involves fluid collection around the lungs, and Mynnie couldn't fight any longer.
So, on the same day she had to pull the plug on her husband, nine years later, she had to hold her only life partner at this juncture as she died in my mother's arms.
When Mozee died, five years after Dad died, my mother was about destroyed. All involved were thrilled when, less than a month later, Mom found a new kitten to love and welcome into her home and her heart. Now Mom is stuck wondering why everything in her life turns bad.
I can tell her everything, how she gave that cat a better four years of life than most would have given her, that she did all she could, that Mynnie knew how loved she was...all things my mother knows but that make little difference in the pain that parts her heart right now.
And I can do nothing. I offered her a ticket here for Christmas; she declined saying she couldn't. I countered that she no longer had a cat to find care for; she said that they are expecting significant snow accumulations tomorrow (which, for Southern Oregon, is an event) and that she's not expecting the weather to be all that great. In fact, she's uncertain of her ability to make the 300 mile trek up the I-5 to see her brother during the Christmas holiday.
I sincerely hope she can make it. She needs a change of scenery.
So Princesita, Young Prince and I got onto the local florist in my hometown and sent her a bouquet of white tulips to hopefully brighten her home and her existence a bit tomorrow. I put the children to bed...
...and proceeded to just let the ache out. I thought my tears had been used up already this month, but I guess not yet.
I think we are all ready for December 2008 to be over.
But it passed. And rather well, so I thought.
Then the phone rang. Caller ID said it was my mother.
She never calls me, so I knew someone had died.
She had to put her cat to sleep today. Barely an adult, only a four year old cat, it had apparently been born with some disease whose name escapes me, but involves fluid collection around the lungs, and Mynnie couldn't fight any longer.
So, on the same day she had to pull the plug on her husband, nine years later, she had to hold her only life partner at this juncture as she died in my mother's arms.
When Mozee died, five years after Dad died, my mother was about destroyed. All involved were thrilled when, less than a month later, Mom found a new kitten to love and welcome into her home and her heart. Now Mom is stuck wondering why everything in her life turns bad.
I can tell her everything, how she gave that cat a better four years of life than most would have given her, that she did all she could, that Mynnie knew how loved she was...all things my mother knows but that make little difference in the pain that parts her heart right now.
And I can do nothing. I offered her a ticket here for Christmas; she declined saying she couldn't. I countered that she no longer had a cat to find care for; she said that they are expecting significant snow accumulations tomorrow (which, for Southern Oregon, is an event) and that she's not expecting the weather to be all that great. In fact, she's uncertain of her ability to make the 300 mile trek up the I-5 to see her brother during the Christmas holiday.
I sincerely hope she can make it. She needs a change of scenery.
So Princesita, Young Prince and I got onto the local florist in my hometown and sent her a bouquet of white tulips to hopefully brighten her home and her existence a bit tomorrow. I put the children to bed...
...and proceeded to just let the ache out. I thought my tears had been used up already this month, but I guess not yet.
I think we are all ready for December 2008 to be over.
sábado, 13 de diciembre de 2008
balance
I got up and out to the gym today, for the first time in two weeks due to being sick and/or it being my weekend with the monitos. If I don't feel well enough to go work out, I really don't feel well! I ran my 5 miles in 35 minutes flat, which felt good, and about killed myself on weights I hadn't lifted in a few weeks. All in an effort to release all that is lying so heavily atop my soul.
Physical health/strength/endurance--balance.
Did I succeed? I'm not sure. No, I don't think so. Only time heals wounds and I hurt too deeply right now to make much more than a superficial dent. But I, and all involved, are in communications to seek a balance. Balance for the time being. That is all that can be done, so it is a valid and worthwhile goal.
Presence/communication--balance.
I did my share of the Christmas Cards this morning; He can do his side. This is the first year I will not do his work. I am almost finished crocheting Princesita's new bedspread; Young Prince's is already done and hidden away. Santa will dress their rooms while they sleep on Christmas Eve--when they awaken on Christmas Day, that will be their big surprise.
Presents-spirit--balance.
I pampered myself just a bit with a hair cut yesterday; the Hair Butchery is less that for me as I have a "master beautician" there I always use and she even brings me food once in a while. Nobody notices I get my hair cut but I suppose the only one who needs to notice is myself. Anyway, my beautician/magician is Iranian, a grandmother and just such a caring soul. I love to feel her fingers caressing my scalp just as much as I love the pull of the layering scissors against my head.
Pleasure/pain--balance.
I received word from my uncle; it appears he has had a stroke and is going through some tests, etc. He's the only family I have left on my father's side. Under normal circumstances that news wouldn't phase me but in the just slightly fragile state I feel I am in right now that news just pushes me over tears' edge.
Season's joys and season's losses--balance.
There is a cookie exchange tonight. I have just created the most decadent rumballs I've ever tasted--forget the "nilla wafer" filler; I have a gluten-free/soy-free concoction that is pure chocolate, condensed milk, vanilla and rum. Then some powdered sugar and soy-free chocolate chips on the outside and voila! The monitos licked the pot clean...quite literally.
Bitter/sweet--balance.
'Tis the season. I could use some other balance in my life as well. Balance between the emotional and the physical--my lack of physical contact is creating in me a monster that feels a need for great release. I was mentioning to a friend the other day, I would just kill for a make-out session. With someone. Geez, with anyone. Just to have that feeling again. Nothing more. Just to feel passion again, to feel someone's lips devouring mine. But that will not happen; I will not let that happen.
Passion/self-control--balance.
Facebook encounters have been interesting of late. An old hot and heavy flame from high school is evidently sleepless in Seattle. He shoots me an email asking me if I "remember us at -- Park?" Of course I do...he and I perfected there the beginning steps of a great art, hidden by the bushes, after school as juniors/seniors. We had quite a variety of funspots--the U of O football stadium included. But That was Then. He is now married to a beautiful wife, a gal I knew in college, with three children...and should NOT be emailing me with flirtatious fun. Even if merely being flirtatious--that is cheating and he is wrong to do that to his wife. And that is that.
Past tense/present tense--balance.
Now to balance my caffeinated mocha with some nice decaf hot tea to warm my body and prepare myself for just a tiny bit of supplies shopping, and I leave you for now.
Physical health/strength/endurance--balance.
Did I succeed? I'm not sure. No, I don't think so. Only time heals wounds and I hurt too deeply right now to make much more than a superficial dent. But I, and all involved, are in communications to seek a balance. Balance for the time being. That is all that can be done, so it is a valid and worthwhile goal.
Presence/communication--balance.
I did my share of the Christmas Cards this morning; He can do his side. This is the first year I will not do his work. I am almost finished crocheting Princesita's new bedspread; Young Prince's is already done and hidden away. Santa will dress their rooms while they sleep on Christmas Eve--when they awaken on Christmas Day, that will be their big surprise.
Presents-spirit--balance.
I pampered myself just a bit with a hair cut yesterday; the Hair Butchery is less that for me as I have a "master beautician" there I always use and she even brings me food once in a while. Nobody notices I get my hair cut but I suppose the only one who needs to notice is myself. Anyway, my beautician/magician is Iranian, a grandmother and just such a caring soul. I love to feel her fingers caressing my scalp just as much as I love the pull of the layering scissors against my head.
Pleasure/pain--balance.
I received word from my uncle; it appears he has had a stroke and is going through some tests, etc. He's the only family I have left on my father's side. Under normal circumstances that news wouldn't phase me but in the just slightly fragile state I feel I am in right now that news just pushes me over tears' edge.
Season's joys and season's losses--balance.
There is a cookie exchange tonight. I have just created the most decadent rumballs I've ever tasted--forget the "nilla wafer" filler; I have a gluten-free/soy-free concoction that is pure chocolate, condensed milk, vanilla and rum. Then some powdered sugar and soy-free chocolate chips on the outside and voila! The monitos licked the pot clean...quite literally.
Bitter/sweet--balance.
'Tis the season. I could use some other balance in my life as well. Balance between the emotional and the physical--my lack of physical contact is creating in me a monster that feels a need for great release. I was mentioning to a friend the other day, I would just kill for a make-out session. With someone. Geez, with anyone. Just to have that feeling again. Nothing more. Just to feel passion again, to feel someone's lips devouring mine. But that will not happen; I will not let that happen.
Passion/self-control--balance.
Facebook encounters have been interesting of late. An old hot and heavy flame from high school is evidently sleepless in Seattle. He shoots me an email asking me if I "remember us at -- Park?" Of course I do...he and I perfected there the beginning steps of a great art, hidden by the bushes, after school as juniors/seniors. We had quite a variety of funspots--the U of O football stadium included. But That was Then. He is now married to a beautiful wife, a gal I knew in college, with three children...and should NOT be emailing me with flirtatious fun. Even if merely being flirtatious--that is cheating and he is wrong to do that to his wife. And that is that.
Past tense/present tense--balance.
Now to balance my caffeinated mocha with some nice decaf hot tea to warm my body and prepare myself for just a tiny bit of supplies shopping, and I leave you for now.
jueves, 11 de diciembre de 2008
When Life gives you lemons...
...and it's on a constant basis, you'd think a person would figure it out and stop making the same mistake over and over again.
Some of us are not so smart, evidently. Others of us take those lemons and squeeze out of them an unending supply of lemonade--the fresh, tart stuff that, while being a positive end to a less-than-perfect situation, leaves behind the reminiscent mouth-puckering taste as a constant reminder of what could have or should have been done differently.
I have been through the emotional ringer this year on a level nobody really knows about and I think I am through with it. I just don't think I can do it anymore. Christmas is nice and picks up my spirit this year...how on Earth do I keep myself up in January? February? Those cold, dark months that frighten me so, with an inane holiday smack in the middle that I have so deeply despised since my youth for either its senseless obligation or its deep, utter loneliness. One year I gave myself a vacation in January. It served as the perfect distraction, but is far from the ideal time to go as cancellations can always occur: catching the 'flu, being snowed in, absolutely any variety of possibilities can create a stressful anticipation of such a needed mid-winter break.
I am also trying to learn to let my idealism of my 20s go. I cannot change the world; the world needs to want to change. I can be lauded as this positive influence but yet I am tired of feeling the failure when the willingness to adopt new, healthier ways is shrugged off or ignored for any variety of excuses. I need to stop trying to change the world and just focus on molding my own touchable reality.
And that is the end of my insomniac insights and rants this night. I hope the rest of you are sleeping tight!
Some of us are not so smart, evidently. Others of us take those lemons and squeeze out of them an unending supply of lemonade--the fresh, tart stuff that, while being a positive end to a less-than-perfect situation, leaves behind the reminiscent mouth-puckering taste as a constant reminder of what could have or should have been done differently.
I have been through the emotional ringer this year on a level nobody really knows about and I think I am through with it. I just don't think I can do it anymore. Christmas is nice and picks up my spirit this year...how on Earth do I keep myself up in January? February? Those cold, dark months that frighten me so, with an inane holiday smack in the middle that I have so deeply despised since my youth for either its senseless obligation or its deep, utter loneliness. One year I gave myself a vacation in January. It served as the perfect distraction, but is far from the ideal time to go as cancellations can always occur: catching the 'flu, being snowed in, absolutely any variety of possibilities can create a stressful anticipation of such a needed mid-winter break.
I am also trying to learn to let my idealism of my 20s go. I cannot change the world; the world needs to want to change. I can be lauded as this positive influence but yet I am tired of feeling the failure when the willingness to adopt new, healthier ways is shrugged off or ignored for any variety of excuses. I need to stop trying to change the world and just focus on molding my own touchable reality.
And that is the end of my insomniac insights and rants this night. I hope the rest of you are sleeping tight!
lunes, 8 de diciembre de 2008
A cinnamon spiced latte
The snow fell on Saturday evening.
It was a shower at best, but as whatever did fall has stuck around until today, it counts as the first official snowfall of the season. Following a day filled with a strange mix of charity, commercialism and the arts, Princesita, Young Prince and I decided to don our Santa hats, bundle up warm, and walk a mile downtown to the noodle restaurant for dinner.
The experience was glorious.
The air was cold, but hearts were warm as we held hands, sang songs and marvelled at the fact that we were the only ones perhaps crazy enough to be out walking in the cold, wintry night. Heated by the purest warmth of the company of those we love most, even my four year old never once complained of the two mile round-trip distance in the chill.
*---*
A pipe has broken on my street. There is a consequential calm on what is normally a known shortcut from one major street to another as Town workers are braving the sub-freezing temperatures to fix the problem. The water is frozen all over the street a few houses down.
What cracks me up, though, is that there are these two huge flourescent orange signs blocking off the street entrance, which actually state that the street is closed to traffic. You would not believe the number of cars that enter on the opposite lane of traffic, choosing to ignore the signs strategically placed right in their lane to (futilely) attempt to stop them from entering the street in the first place, then having to “lose time” by actually turning around and leaving the way they came in--right in front of my house.
I could sit and watch that all day. I wonder what it is that makes people not see big orange signs? Just coming down the street because they saw someone enter who happens to live on the street and thus has permission to come down the street? The mentality of “Well, if s/he can break the rules, so can I” (when, in reality, those of us living on this street are not breaking any rules)? The idea that, “But I’m different…I have to get to work and this is the only way I ever go, so why should I let a water main break my stride”?
What makes people around here feel above the rules? Or is this a universal truth that I only see as being so blatantly obvious here? Do we feel invincible, that whatever danger is posed can’t in any way hurt us? Then, if we do get into an accident from the ice covering the street, we can turn around and sue the Town…even if they had signs and road blocks up telling us to stay off the street?
Human nature can be so fun to ponder sometimes.
*---*
He is gone for a week for hearings regarding the Alaskan fishing boat disaster of a month ago. I feel so calm when I am alone here, much less lonely than when I am feeling forced into my solitude. He’ll be back for his weekend with the children, which is fine as I have other plans for the weekend. It is funny to me to think that, in all the Christmases had together, I feel more empowered in this one merely because I no longer feel like I’m doing everything alone as I had always felt before. I feel that I am teaching the children about the spirit of the season in a very holistic fashion, and am working hard to keep negative feelings away. This is already one of the most fulfilling Christmas seasons I have had in a decade simply because I am not caving to anyone else’s expectations nor fulfilling gift obligations for a side of the family that I hardly even know.
The resulting stress release is unparalleled!
I’ll get to the Christmas cards when I get to them. I will get my family’s gifts sent out sometime this week. It will be a simpler Christmas for my children with fewer gifts in quantity but the quality will be noted. The gift of the Nutcracker Ballet this past Saturday was the talk out of my children’s mouths all day on Sunday, when we graciously received another gift of food, warmth, laughter and company at a friend’s home for the afternoon. My children are learning about the magic of gifts that are not the touchable, playable type. Of course my children will receive some toys. But I want them to receive so much more--the traditions and the memories that we are establishing together are what cannot be bought by point-and-click shopping…
…and on these gifts, the shipping is always free.
It was a shower at best, but as whatever did fall has stuck around until today, it counts as the first official snowfall of the season. Following a day filled with a strange mix of charity, commercialism and the arts, Princesita, Young Prince and I decided to don our Santa hats, bundle up warm, and walk a mile downtown to the noodle restaurant for dinner.
The experience was glorious.
The air was cold, but hearts were warm as we held hands, sang songs and marvelled at the fact that we were the only ones perhaps crazy enough to be out walking in the cold, wintry night. Heated by the purest warmth of the company of those we love most, even my four year old never once complained of the two mile round-trip distance in the chill.
*---*
A pipe has broken on my street. There is a consequential calm on what is normally a known shortcut from one major street to another as Town workers are braving the sub-freezing temperatures to fix the problem. The water is frozen all over the street a few houses down.
What cracks me up, though, is that there are these two huge flourescent orange signs blocking off the street entrance, which actually state that the street is closed to traffic. You would not believe the number of cars that enter on the opposite lane of traffic, choosing to ignore the signs strategically placed right in their lane to (futilely) attempt to stop them from entering the street in the first place, then having to “lose time” by actually turning around and leaving the way they came in--right in front of my house.
I could sit and watch that all day. I wonder what it is that makes people not see big orange signs? Just coming down the street because they saw someone enter who happens to live on the street and thus has permission to come down the street? The mentality of “Well, if s/he can break the rules, so can I” (when, in reality, those of us living on this street are not breaking any rules)? The idea that, “But I’m different…I have to get to work and this is the only way I ever go, so why should I let a water main break my stride”?
What makes people around here feel above the rules? Or is this a universal truth that I only see as being so blatantly obvious here? Do we feel invincible, that whatever danger is posed can’t in any way hurt us? Then, if we do get into an accident from the ice covering the street, we can turn around and sue the Town…even if they had signs and road blocks up telling us to stay off the street?
Human nature can be so fun to ponder sometimes.
*---*
He is gone for a week for hearings regarding the Alaskan fishing boat disaster of a month ago. I feel so calm when I am alone here, much less lonely than when I am feeling forced into my solitude. He’ll be back for his weekend with the children, which is fine as I have other plans for the weekend. It is funny to me to think that, in all the Christmases had together, I feel more empowered in this one merely because I no longer feel like I’m doing everything alone as I had always felt before. I feel that I am teaching the children about the spirit of the season in a very holistic fashion, and am working hard to keep negative feelings away. This is already one of the most fulfilling Christmas seasons I have had in a decade simply because I am not caving to anyone else’s expectations nor fulfilling gift obligations for a side of the family that I hardly even know.
The resulting stress release is unparalleled!
I’ll get to the Christmas cards when I get to them. I will get my family’s gifts sent out sometime this week. It will be a simpler Christmas for my children with fewer gifts in quantity but the quality will be noted. The gift of the Nutcracker Ballet this past Saturday was the talk out of my children’s mouths all day on Sunday, when we graciously received another gift of food, warmth, laughter and company at a friend’s home for the afternoon. My children are learning about the magic of gifts that are not the touchable, playable type. Of course my children will receive some toys. But I want them to receive so much more--the traditions and the memories that we are establishing together are what cannot be bought by point-and-click shopping…
…and on these gifts, the shipping is always free.
viernes, 5 de diciembre de 2008
not much to say...
I know, write THAT in the record books. (grin)
I actually have a lot to say, but can't find the words right now. December is a hard month for me, made this year a bit more bitter with Ryan's death. It is hard for me to believe that, come the 17th, it will have been 9 years that Dad died--what seems like yesterday and yet still a lifetime ago. And the 15th makes 7 years that Ko-chan died. And the 30th makes 11 years that my surrogate grandmother died (she lived next door all my childhood life and thus filled that role in my life).
I focus on the lights on the tree, the music, the lights in my children's eyes and try not to let myself think about all I feel I have lost in December.
I try not to feel so cold, but that is hard for me right now. I take my moments of joy and cherish them, and they carry me through my moments of sadness and grief.
I miss hugs. Sometimes you just need someone to hold you, nothing more, and I haven't had that in a very, very long time. I pretend I'm just holding my children but I never really let them know that it is instead them holding me...it is not fair to them to know that kind of pressure at their young ages.
And that is that.
I actually have a lot to say, but can't find the words right now. December is a hard month for me, made this year a bit more bitter with Ryan's death. It is hard for me to believe that, come the 17th, it will have been 9 years that Dad died--what seems like yesterday and yet still a lifetime ago. And the 15th makes 7 years that Ko-chan died. And the 30th makes 11 years that my surrogate grandmother died (she lived next door all my childhood life and thus filled that role in my life).
I focus on the lights on the tree, the music, the lights in my children's eyes and try not to let myself think about all I feel I have lost in December.
I try not to feel so cold, but that is hard for me right now. I take my moments of joy and cherish them, and they carry me through my moments of sadness and grief.
I miss hugs. Sometimes you just need someone to hold you, nothing more, and I haven't had that in a very, very long time. I pretend I'm just holding my children but I never really let them know that it is instead them holding me...it is not fair to them to know that kind of pressure at their young ages.
And that is that.
miércoles, 3 de diciembre de 2008
Malawi, revisited yet again
Malawi has taken yet another friend.
He was a lifelong friend, one I went to school with from kindergarten all the way through graduation from high school. His father and my father taught together in the same school and educated each others' children.
Although I have many memories, one in particular stands out from Home Ec class in the 7th grade. He was the only of the testosterone set in the class and not only were we sewing machine partners (which was good as I was hopeless at threading the darned thing--he came to my rescue more than once!) but also cooking partners. He always teased me about how much syrup I needed to douse my geometrically-shaped pancakes in because they weren't otherwise edible!
We had fun.
Last I saw him was our 10 year reunion. He came right up to me and we stepped aside, apart from the rest of the group and had a wonderful talk, for a good 45 minutes or so, about life, travel and, most impressive, the fact that he was a missionary in Africa. I am personally not a missionary-minded person but have great respect for those who have such faith that go forth and spread word and, most importantly, good will to all in the world.
He and his family--a wife with three young girls aged 8, 6 and 3--were in Malawi. He was returning after delivering maize with a friend and was in an accident yesterday. He was killed in that accident. He was my age--36.
Today is a sad day. My soul aches for a world that has lost such a good man who had the will and the courage to spread so much love and goodness to places that so desperately need such gifts. Each tear I shed is filled with sadness for his family and yet with hope that his good deeds and example will be remembered and emulated by all who knew him.
He was a lifelong friend, one I went to school with from kindergarten all the way through graduation from high school. His father and my father taught together in the same school and educated each others' children.
Although I have many memories, one in particular stands out from Home Ec class in the 7th grade. He was the only of the testosterone set in the class and not only were we sewing machine partners (which was good as I was hopeless at threading the darned thing--he came to my rescue more than once!) but also cooking partners. He always teased me about how much syrup I needed to douse my geometrically-shaped pancakes in because they weren't otherwise edible!
We had fun.
Last I saw him was our 10 year reunion. He came right up to me and we stepped aside, apart from the rest of the group and had a wonderful talk, for a good 45 minutes or so, about life, travel and, most impressive, the fact that he was a missionary in Africa. I am personally not a missionary-minded person but have great respect for those who have such faith that go forth and spread word and, most importantly, good will to all in the world.
He and his family--a wife with three young girls aged 8, 6 and 3--were in Malawi. He was returning after delivering maize with a friend and was in an accident yesterday. He was killed in that accident. He was my age--36.
Today is a sad day. My soul aches for a world that has lost such a good man who had the will and the courage to spread so much love and goodness to places that so desperately need such gifts. Each tear I shed is filled with sadness for his family and yet with hope that his good deeds and example will be remembered and emulated by all who knew him.
lunes, 1 de diciembre de 2008
flirting
Dad's House wrote today on flirting and challenged us all to a "A Flirt A Day" contest.
Doesn't that sound like so much fun? Perhaps just the thing to draw us out of our winter hibernations, light a fire in our souls and bring some spontaneity and spark to our spirits.
To be honest, nothing makes me want to crawl deeper into my little cave even more.
I used to flirt, I used to have fun and enjoy my company with others, friends and strangers alike. Now, with a mortal fear that someone might read too much into a look, a word, a touch, I find it easier to live my life in my little contactless circle where I don't have to worry about having anything else further complicating my life.
There are external circumstances, of course, that affect these words. I have a hard time in December, I have a sore throat and am not feeling well (which doesn't happen often), the winter chill and short days affect me each year, and I have recently had a hard disagreement with a close friend that has yet to be resolved; these all create in me a great degree of insecurity and my self-confidence is just low right now.
So low that, reading Dad's post, I found myself in tears, wondering what in the world has happened to ME...the ME I used to be. My strength is gone and my resolve accounts for almost nothing.
*---*
Last night I read a Hans Christian Anderson tale I had never before read to my children. It was called "The Fir Tree". The gist of the story is that the fir tree in the forest was never content with how his life was while surrounded by the beauty of nature in the forest; he always wanted something more. It wasn't until he was chopped down, decorated, promptly discarded and chopped and burned that he realized how he had wished his life away. The last paragraph describing how each pop of his trunk in the fire was actually a sigh as he remembered various glorious scenes from his life that he never appreciated until it was all over.
My kids didn't understand why I cried at the end of the story. And I actually, for the first time, didn't feel like talking about it.
Doesn't that sound like so much fun? Perhaps just the thing to draw us out of our winter hibernations, light a fire in our souls and bring some spontaneity and spark to our spirits.
To be honest, nothing makes me want to crawl deeper into my little cave even more.
I used to flirt, I used to have fun and enjoy my company with others, friends and strangers alike. Now, with a mortal fear that someone might read too much into a look, a word, a touch, I find it easier to live my life in my little contactless circle where I don't have to worry about having anything else further complicating my life.
There are external circumstances, of course, that affect these words. I have a hard time in December, I have a sore throat and am not feeling well (which doesn't happen often), the winter chill and short days affect me each year, and I have recently had a hard disagreement with a close friend that has yet to be resolved; these all create in me a great degree of insecurity and my self-confidence is just low right now.
So low that, reading Dad's post, I found myself in tears, wondering what in the world has happened to ME...the ME I used to be. My strength is gone and my resolve accounts for almost nothing.
*---*
Last night I read a Hans Christian Anderson tale I had never before read to my children. It was called "The Fir Tree". The gist of the story is that the fir tree in the forest was never content with how his life was while surrounded by the beauty of nature in the forest; he always wanted something more. It wasn't until he was chopped down, decorated, promptly discarded and chopped and burned that he realized how he had wished his life away. The last paragraph describing how each pop of his trunk in the fire was actually a sigh as he remembered various glorious scenes from his life that he never appreciated until it was all over.
My kids didn't understand why I cried at the end of the story. And I actually, for the first time, didn't feel like talking about it.
December
The lights and tree went up this weekend, as I scurried about in my one and only chance to actually decorate for the Christmas holiday. It was this weekend or three days before Christmas, according to my calendar of events.
I have had some sort of upper-respiratory bug eating at me for a couple of weeks; Young Prince seems to be coming out of his but Princesita is just going into it, and I seem destined to have to somehow suffer through both.
*---*
This week had Him at the house more than I am accustomed to, which had me either out of the house more as a result or hidden back in my room/cave. As I managed to finish crocheting the Young Prince's new bedspread, all was not lost. However, my time just in earshot gave me some enlightening insights into my children's relationship with their father.
1. He has to have the radio up so loud in the kitchen that it drowns out the kids' voices. True, I like to have the radio on as well, but keep it down to background music, especially when the kids want to speak. If there are NPR stories I would like to hear, I leave the room to listen rather than tell the kids to shush so that I can prioritize a faceless digital box over my own children's developing self-expression.
2. He tells me that the kids disrespect him when they talk to him and accuses me of fostering that attitude. However, stepping back and listening to them banter in the morning, I hear them talking to him in the same way he speaks to them. My children do not talk to me the way they talk to their father, and I wouldn't allow it if they did. However, that is not my battle to be waged; it is his as long as he ceases to involve me through accusations.
3. He no longer sleeps in his own bedroom but instead out in the t.v. room downstairs. This results in an echoing of his dreadful snoring throughout the house...another huge reason we could never, in the history of our marriage, sleep in the same room. I would merely close my door if I weren't in charge of taking care of the kids during the night (thus requiring open doors). Perhaps he's starting to realize his room stinks because he refuses to ever open a window for fresh air when it is nice outside. Or perhaps it's drafty because he hasn't put down his storm windows. He needs to learn how to complete these simple menial tasks. I am not going to be his mother anymore.
December is again upon us and I am disappointed in myself that I haven't made greater strides in this separation, which was something I resolved to do this year. I suppose I have made positive steps; just not as big as I had ideally imagined. As of this month I only have one more year of "probation" to wait out as well with CPS, so perhaps next year I will feel much less trapped by my own circumstances.
I hate December. I love Christmas in all that I can teach my children regarding the joys of giving and receiving and thanksgiving, but I despise December. I don't like January much, either, but December comes and I can feel my heart being ripped from my chest and wrung out like a wet towel every year.
So I must find the Joy. Somehow.
I have had some sort of upper-respiratory bug eating at me for a couple of weeks; Young Prince seems to be coming out of his but Princesita is just going into it, and I seem destined to have to somehow suffer through both.
*---*
This week had Him at the house more than I am accustomed to, which had me either out of the house more as a result or hidden back in my room/cave. As I managed to finish crocheting the Young Prince's new bedspread, all was not lost. However, my time just in earshot gave me some enlightening insights into my children's relationship with their father.
1. He has to have the radio up so loud in the kitchen that it drowns out the kids' voices. True, I like to have the radio on as well, but keep it down to background music, especially when the kids want to speak. If there are NPR stories I would like to hear, I leave the room to listen rather than tell the kids to shush so that I can prioritize a faceless digital box over my own children's developing self-expression.
2. He tells me that the kids disrespect him when they talk to him and accuses me of fostering that attitude. However, stepping back and listening to them banter in the morning, I hear them talking to him in the same way he speaks to them. My children do not talk to me the way they talk to their father, and I wouldn't allow it if they did. However, that is not my battle to be waged; it is his as long as he ceases to involve me through accusations.
3. He no longer sleeps in his own bedroom but instead out in the t.v. room downstairs. This results in an echoing of his dreadful snoring throughout the house...another huge reason we could never, in the history of our marriage, sleep in the same room. I would merely close my door if I weren't in charge of taking care of the kids during the night (thus requiring open doors). Perhaps he's starting to realize his room stinks because he refuses to ever open a window for fresh air when it is nice outside. Or perhaps it's drafty because he hasn't put down his storm windows. He needs to learn how to complete these simple menial tasks. I am not going to be his mother anymore.
December is again upon us and I am disappointed in myself that I haven't made greater strides in this separation, which was something I resolved to do this year. I suppose I have made positive steps; just not as big as I had ideally imagined. As of this month I only have one more year of "probation" to wait out as well with CPS, so perhaps next year I will feel much less trapped by my own circumstances.
I hate December. I love Christmas in all that I can teach my children regarding the joys of giving and receiving and thanksgiving, but I despise December. I don't like January much, either, but December comes and I can feel my heart being ripped from my chest and wrung out like a wet towel every year.
So I must find the Joy. Somehow.
domingo, 23 de noviembre de 2008
In Thanksgiving
This week we in the United States, as well as our citizens scattered throughout the world, celebrate Thanksgiving. Tradition calls for the turkey, cranberries, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie and a plethora of fattening delicacies that, as tradition also mandates, we are to enjoy guilt-free regardless of how we might later pay for such indulgences.
Albeit something I ought to practice more readily in my life, I also find myself forced to slow down and reflect on all I have to be thankful for. This is a hard time of year for me in that blood-line family is located so far away that it is pretty much impossible for holidays to be spent together. The cold, dark weather always draws me into hibernation mode. Heartache that is inevitable with the dark memories surrounding my father's death at Christmastime also seeks me out no matter how hard I might try to hide from it. Two close friends both have their fathers critically hospitalized right now, both as of this week; it seems that others are starting to catch up and, although I want to be able to do what I so needed from others when my father died, I am finding it emotionally impossible for me to do anything but pray for the well-being of all involved.
Perhaps selfish, but I just cannot put myself through the wrenching emotions it all causes deep in my soul. At least their fathers got to know their grandchildren, have relationships with them and see them grow into beautiful young people while developing adult relationships with their own children. Much like me and both my grandfathers, my children never knew their grandfather. He was days away from receiving his first retirement check when he died. The two fathers now hospitalized are much older and have lived a much more complete life. Yes, it is sad but they have also come much closer to living our socially-defined full cycle of life. Yes, I think it's unfair, because I am selfish. But I also recognize Life is unfair and there isn't anything I can do about that. It all just hits too close to home for me still. So I stay my distance.
Funny how strong we can convince ourselves we are, but when said strength is tried our weaknesses shine forth with greater force.
*---*
I spent the weekend completely engaged with the little monkeys! As my weekends are currently running a Friday-Saturday schedule with Sunday-Thursday students, I do the best I can to maximize our time together on Friday evening as soon as Princesita is home from school. This time spent together made me reflect actively on the deep gratitude I feel for so much in my life. This will be my serious list, due to the tone of the post. In a couple of days I will then post my not-so-serious Thanksgiving list when I have a bit less work and a bit more cranberries and stuffing on my mind.
What am I thankful for? No elaboration needed:
My beautiful children
My God
My friends
My garden
My family
My health
My home
My business
My students
My talents to make this happen for me
My opportunities
My cat
The food on my table
Enough money to live on
Warmth
Music
Love
Peace
My emotions
All of you, some who come and go and others who stay and 'virtually' complete my life
The most sincere of Thanksgiving wishes, warmth, blessings and love, from Mama Llama to YOU!
Albeit something I ought to practice more readily in my life, I also find myself forced to slow down and reflect on all I have to be thankful for. This is a hard time of year for me in that blood-line family is located so far away that it is pretty much impossible for holidays to be spent together. The cold, dark weather always draws me into hibernation mode. Heartache that is inevitable with the dark memories surrounding my father's death at Christmastime also seeks me out no matter how hard I might try to hide from it. Two close friends both have their fathers critically hospitalized right now, both as of this week; it seems that others are starting to catch up and, although I want to be able to do what I so needed from others when my father died, I am finding it emotionally impossible for me to do anything but pray for the well-being of all involved.
Perhaps selfish, but I just cannot put myself through the wrenching emotions it all causes deep in my soul. At least their fathers got to know their grandchildren, have relationships with them and see them grow into beautiful young people while developing adult relationships with their own children. Much like me and both my grandfathers, my children never knew their grandfather. He was days away from receiving his first retirement check when he died. The two fathers now hospitalized are much older and have lived a much more complete life. Yes, it is sad but they have also come much closer to living our socially-defined full cycle of life. Yes, I think it's unfair, because I am selfish. But I also recognize Life is unfair and there isn't anything I can do about that. It all just hits too close to home for me still. So I stay my distance.
Funny how strong we can convince ourselves we are, but when said strength is tried our weaknesses shine forth with greater force.
*---*
I spent the weekend completely engaged with the little monkeys! As my weekends are currently running a Friday-Saturday schedule with Sunday-Thursday students, I do the best I can to maximize our time together on Friday evening as soon as Princesita is home from school. This time spent together made me reflect actively on the deep gratitude I feel for so much in my life. This will be my serious list, due to the tone of the post. In a couple of days I will then post my not-so-serious Thanksgiving list when I have a bit less work and a bit more cranberries and stuffing on my mind.
What am I thankful for? No elaboration needed:
My beautiful children
My God
My friends
My garden
My family
My health
My home
My business
My students
My talents to make this happen for me
My opportunities
My cat
The food on my table
Enough money to live on
Warmth
Music
Love
Peace
My emotions
All of you, some who come and go and others who stay and 'virtually' complete my life
The most sincere of Thanksgiving wishes, warmth, blessings and love, from Mama Llama to YOU!
martes, 18 de noviembre de 2008
blustery beauty
Saturday was a balmy yet blustery day.
A strong cold front was blowing in from the northwest, ahead of which we had temperatures reaching the mid-70s. The warmth brought people out from all corners wearing shorts and t-shirts, attempting to capture what many acertained were the last of the vitamin D-bearing sunrays of the calendar year.
It was glorious!
I awoke feeling an inexplicable energy. Hearing the gara-gara of my bedroom windows all night, I had evidence of Mother Nature's power and sensed it was a day to take full advantage. Although I vow to never drive to the gym, I decided to couple my trip to workout with a trip to the grocer only around the corner, and my shopping spree demanded items much too heavy to lug all the way home on my slight frame. So I brought my clothes with, intending to shower and change at the gym.
Great workout, ran 5 miles in 33:05 (YIPPEE!) on the elliptical and showered. Forgot my comb of all things, so I pulled my long wet locks back into a pseudo-bun, a little eyeliner, a little lipstick and voila! done. Walked out and, working out right in front of me was a looker.
And he looked. And said, "Hel-LO!"
Damned my shyness, I smiled and lowered my eyes and barely audibly uttered a 'hello' back, and continued walking...but with my head high and feeling GREAT. Attractive. Noticed. Sexy. And with my presence validated.
Sometimes that is ALL I need. I am demanding, but my needs are few.
Off to the store, dropped the goods off at home, a couple of phone calls then off to be out and enjoy the morning. All the news reports warned of rapid changes at a later point in the afternoon, with plummeting temperatures ushered in with the wild wind, so I knew I could get away with single-layer jeans (no tights) and a sweater with no jacket for only so long.
I saw people I had not seen in a long time, I met a nice young waitress at CPK, recently graduated from high school, who wants to be a pastry chef and has been accepted into the CIA, I bought new tights in preparation for the cold week (always need footless tights and heavy socks), went to My Store (White House Black Market, if you're wondering) and actually found a sweater I could afford, and sat out in an open air square, eyes closed and just taking it all in--the air, the wind, the energy, the good moods...
...then the rain began.
As I am a wicked witch llama that melts when wet, I ran to my car as quickly as my clogs would allow me and drove the seven miles back to my home, where my children had spent the entire glorious morning downstairs watching cartoons with their father.
(sigh)
I soon realized my cell phone was gone and, after making some key telephone calls to establishments visited, I decided it was gone for good. But no big deal--I was feeling great! Off again to another store, it was still relatively warm and windy with more storm clouds in the distance. With my iTunes "mood mix" playing at a volume louder than I would permit had my children been in the backseat, I enjoyed my ride out, did my shopping and rushed back out to my car in another windy rainfall.
As I arrived home, the sun broke through the confused sky and behold, a strong rainbow arched through the sky welcoming me back.
My pot of gold? A day of feeling free, accomplishing tasks and knowing I could go out and do all of this all by myself, and carrying this wonderful liberating feeling with me all this week! The warmth in my heart helps blanket me through the sporadic snow showers we expect this week.
A strong cold front was blowing in from the northwest, ahead of which we had temperatures reaching the mid-70s. The warmth brought people out from all corners wearing shorts and t-shirts, attempting to capture what many acertained were the last of the vitamin D-bearing sunrays of the calendar year.
It was glorious!
I awoke feeling an inexplicable energy. Hearing the gara-gara of my bedroom windows all night, I had evidence of Mother Nature's power and sensed it was a day to take full advantage. Although I vow to never drive to the gym, I decided to couple my trip to workout with a trip to the grocer only around the corner, and my shopping spree demanded items much too heavy to lug all the way home on my slight frame. So I brought my clothes with, intending to shower and change at the gym.
Great workout, ran 5 miles in 33:05 (YIPPEE!) on the elliptical and showered. Forgot my comb of all things, so I pulled my long wet locks back into a pseudo-bun, a little eyeliner, a little lipstick and voila! done. Walked out and, working out right in front of me was a looker.
And he looked. And said, "Hel-LO!"
Damned my shyness, I smiled and lowered my eyes and barely audibly uttered a 'hello' back, and continued walking...but with my head high and feeling GREAT. Attractive. Noticed. Sexy. And with my presence validated.
Sometimes that is ALL I need. I am demanding, but my needs are few.
Off to the store, dropped the goods off at home, a couple of phone calls then off to be out and enjoy the morning. All the news reports warned of rapid changes at a later point in the afternoon, with plummeting temperatures ushered in with the wild wind, so I knew I could get away with single-layer jeans (no tights) and a sweater with no jacket for only so long.
I saw people I had not seen in a long time, I met a nice young waitress at CPK, recently graduated from high school, who wants to be a pastry chef and has been accepted into the CIA, I bought new tights in preparation for the cold week (always need footless tights and heavy socks), went to My Store (White House Black Market, if you're wondering) and actually found a sweater I could afford, and sat out in an open air square, eyes closed and just taking it all in--the air, the wind, the energy, the good moods...
...then the rain began.
As I am a wicked witch llama that melts when wet, I ran to my car as quickly as my clogs would allow me and drove the seven miles back to my home, where my children had spent the entire glorious morning downstairs watching cartoons with their father.
(sigh)
I soon realized my cell phone was gone and, after making some key telephone calls to establishments visited, I decided it was gone for good. But no big deal--I was feeling great! Off again to another store, it was still relatively warm and windy with more storm clouds in the distance. With my iTunes "mood mix" playing at a volume louder than I would permit had my children been in the backseat, I enjoyed my ride out, did my shopping and rushed back out to my car in another windy rainfall.
As I arrived home, the sun broke through the confused sky and behold, a strong rainbow arched through the sky welcoming me back.
My pot of gold? A day of feeling free, accomplishing tasks and knowing I could go out and do all of this all by myself, and carrying this wonderful liberating feeling with me all this week! The warmth in my heart helps blanket me through the sporadic snow showers we expect this week.
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