Life with Anna B

Nothing since July....

2011-09-19T20:35:00.001-04:00

geez, i suck

Relying on Google

2011-07-24T20:08:00.002-04:00

I joked for several years that I do not need to know anything anymore, because I have Google and a smartphone. My reliance on Google and the smartphone became clear this evening. Will cannot find his iPod. He always is incredibly careful with it, so I know it is here, just not its exact location. I did what I always do when I need to know something---I picked up my phone. I realized I was getting ready to Google, "Where is Will's iPod?" Google has its limits.

Vacation is all screwed up

2011-07-17T15:00:00.004-04:00

It is supposed to be 98 in Santa Claus, Indiana on Thursday, with a heat index of 106. I did not think that would make for a fun day at Holiday World. Being a go-with-the-flow kind of girl (at least 80% of you laughed so hard coffee came out your nose when you read that), I changed our plans. We will do Holiday World on Tuesday (only 93!) and see Mammoth Cave in September.

We are a little bummed, but I am modeling adaptive behavior. Speaking of that, I will update on most of what we learned about Will. It is a long post. The child is a mystery. The first bit I will share is that he has reversed dominance. That means his brain chose the wrong hand. All of his indicators would say, "This is a left-handed person." For example, one test times how long it takes to put golf tees in a peg board in a pattern. It was 70 seconds on the right; 68 on the left....a nearly 50/50 split with left being slightly preferred. Most people have an 85/15 split for the preferred hand. The thing is....Will is right handed. He never showed any ambiguity on this; always ate right, colored right, reached right. I know kids who *demonstrated* dual capability. Will *possesses* dual capability, but demonstrates strong preference.

Handwriting issues like his are either visual-spatial or motor. His V-S score was excellent, so it is all motor. He has claimed for years that he is ambidextrous, and I shrugged it off. I had him do two handwriting samples last weekend....you could not tell which had was dominant. They both sucked ;-) but left sucked slightly less.

Badger

2011-07-15T16:24:00.003-04:00

I was getting antsy about the test results for Meara, so I began a badgering campaign on Monday. I have been speaking mostly with the hospital neuro dept and the office of their pediatric epileptologist. FINALLY, yesterday, the ped's office called to say that they had the results and that Meara showed "substantial pro-seizure activity" in the right frontal area.

Um. OK. Well, WHAT THE FUCK? Last time, it was in the Cz point on an EEG. I immediately called Dr. Patel's office and said, "What the fuck?" though in a more reasonable way that would not scare off his nurse practitioners who don't know me like he does.

Being the insane (but lovable!) woman that I am, I starting all kinds of premature research. I did not have the medical vocabulary that I needed,(Foci drift? Foci migration?) but I did find that it is not terribly unusual as the nervous system matures. It is unusual for it to not happen during a major change, like into or out of puberty. Anterior to posterior was more likely for Meara's age group than hers which moved anterior.

So, the message I left for Dr. Patel's office was something along the lines of asking if I should be looking for something different in presentation or if we need to change anything.

This is where things get kind of weird. The hospital called today and said that their doctor had done the transcription this morning and that they were sending the results to the ped. I said, "They called yesterday with the results; thanks for getting those to the right doctor for us." "I didn't fax those yesterday. The transcription was not done until this morning." "Did someone else send the preliminaries over?" She did not know, but wanted me to know she was sending the whole thing over to the ped.

Dr. Patel's office called just a few minutes later and asked me to clarify what I knew. I told them what I knew, which was little, but that I just needed to know what the changes meant. She said she would call me back.

Dr. Patel wants the CD of the EEG. This was obviously not what he expected. The CD won't be ready until Tuesday. The hospital has said that they will release the CD to a family member to FedEx to Ohio. I know he read the first one she had with him. I wonder if he will want the ones she had at two-days old and three-months old as well.

So that is where we stand on the little one. We find out all of Will's issues tomorrow. These kids and their brains!

You don't have to know everything

2011-07-10T20:17:00.002-04:00

I get that, but it bugs me when other people know more about my kids' health than I do. Like the results of an EEG and the results of Will's five hours of tests this week.

That does cause me to revisit the therapist issue. I will be fascinated, I am sure, about what we find out about Will. Right now, it looks like an auditory processing issue, though we won't know for sure until next Saturday. How much time and money would we have spent with one of the other two options who had no interest in even testing for this? One said he was fine. One said we could just change the way we all act. Will would have continued to struggle; I would have continued to want to put him on ebay, sold by the pound. As Jo said in the comments: It makes you wonder who is getting quality care and who is not.

No, honey, that's great

2011-07-08T14:22:00.002-04:00

So Chris calls and says, "If I tell you about a job interview, will you be upset?"

Head: "No, honey! I have been looking for work for nine months with no success, but you have interviews falling out of the sky for jobs you want. PLEASE tell me all about it."

Mouth: "No! Tell me!" in my ultra-supportive wife voice.

There is an area of IT called "black hat," and it really is all Chris has wanted to do. Pen testing is what excites him and is his dream job. He was talking to a guy at work about training that some of the other departments get to see how he could get that paid for. It quickly turned into an interview. They have a position open; they were getting ready to get a contractor, but the manager really would rather have Chris. It has escalated up to the division manager level in just a few hours.

I mean, good for him and all, but....you know. My professional life is in the shitter.

Sleep deprivation

2011-07-04T23:48:00.003-04:00

Remember how many nights I spent driving around Geist on Snooze Cruises with Meara? Every night for two years and often in the middle of the night as well. She needed the sound of a diesel engine to fall asleep. (Some babies just nurse...what was wrong with that girl?)

And now I am trying to keep her awake all night? This just seems wrong. We will start with Tangled, light some sparklers. Move onto Megamind....my goal is 4 AM. If we make it to 3:30, I am OK with it. Chris will get her up at 7.

Checking in

2011-07-01T11:39:00.003-04:00

I am checking in because I said that I would.

Meara and I went to COH yesterday to see Dr. Neuro Cutie Pants for what we hope is the last time. I was prepared to fight for an EEG, since she has been seizure free since Feb 9, 2010. The protocol is to wait until 24 months, do an EEG, if it is clear, then wean off meds. He suggested the EEG and gave me the weaning schedule. He said several times, "I am only doing this because I trust you. I have never given the weaning schedule without a clear EEG." Then we talked about our nightmare insurance (fuck you, Advantage!) and how to actually get an EEG. The plan we derived was to have our ped call it in at the hospital where we have coverage. Either the epileptologist at the hospital could read it and call the results into Dr. Neuro Cutie Pants or our ped would just send them to him.

To my shock and amazement, Meara is scheduled for her test at 9 AM on Tuesday. Conveniently, she needs to be sleep deprived for the test. I am certain that on the night before, obnoxious teens in my neighborhood will blow up fire crackers up to the state-mandated end time of 1 AM. Perfect. The last time we did this, we kept her up until 3 and got her up at 7. I don't know if we can pull that off again, but it will be close.

I am trying not to get excited. I am trying to keep Meara's expectations in check, which of course they are. When we talked about it, I said that the test might show that she still has some unusual activity. She just said, "Then I will keep taking 6 milliliters in the morning and six more at night." That one has perspective, for sure.

As for Will, the neuropsych has this week off, which is why we have no updates on that front. Testing will begin, hopefully next Friday or Saturday. He has been a nightmare this week. I really just want to drug him and be done ;-)

I finished and forgot to mention the flirting. I did it. I flirted with Dr. Neuro Cutie Pants. His profile on the website said his fellowship is in neurophysiology. "How many times a week does your wife look at you, shake her head and call you a nerd?" giggle giggle smile

He was really sad to say goodbye to Meara. She is the patient he has had the longest. He started seeing her when she was 20 months. He got a little teary, which was sweet. He kept telling Meara, "I will miss you, but this is a good thing. When you are a neurologist some day, you will understand." Of course Meara told him that she is "all of the ologists."

Tale of Three Therapists

2011-06-21T21:40:00.005-04:00

Therapist Number One

When Will was six, we went to the therapist that our insurance covered. We explained his conduct issues. We asked specifically for more tools to use to help him. His explosive responses to innocuous requests were not normal, and they made him truly unlikeable. That is hard to take as a parent; to love someone from the pit of your heart, but to kind of resent them a little or a lot. As I have told him when he overreacts, “If you were a boyfriend, I would break up with you. I don’t take this crap from anyone.” Well, this therapist dealt mostly with drug addicts, molestation, abuse and really dark issues. She treated us like we were crazy for being there. She said he was “well within the range of normal for a boy his age.” We knew he wasn’t, but we did not have another option.

Thanks, Shitty Insurance Company! I hope you have some horrible scandal that takes you down! Jesus hates you and so does his dad!

This year, I was finally fed the fuck up with his handwriting. Seriously, illegible. He is nine, for god’s sake. I shouldn’t have to ask what everything says. My mom has been on me about it since we homeschooled, and I reached my limit this year. Chris worked with him, the school OT gave suggestions…it helped, but it did not make it “well within the range of normal” so I formally requested testing.

Testing, we got! I am not going to turn this into the “OMG! My son is SO SMART!” Festival. Let’s just say that his scores were unusual. However, what came out of this also was the behavioral piece of his academic life. His teacher’s report was horrible. It was nothing that I would have said, “Oh, no. Not Will. That must only be at school. He would NEVER do that.” It was the frequency and depth of some of the issues that took me aback.

I did not have much time to blog last year, but Will’s teacher has been referred to here as The Delightful One. She has unlimited patience (and Will tested that theory thoroughly last year), and she respects kids. She understands that they are not cookie cutter products, and she tries to see who they really are. If I could afford it, she would be my kids full-time tutor. Anyway, many of his annoying behaviors had either been eliminated, greatly-reduced or remedied. That was not happening this year. I am not going to trash his teacher from this year, but they were not a good match. It just did not work.

Therapist Number Two

What we realized is that we needed to get some help, and if we have to, go into a little debt to get it for him. We went to see a psychologist that dealt with anxiety (which is what sparks Will’s unwanted behavior). Oh, my gosh. His approach was so old school. It seemed to deny the last ten years’ worth of neuropsychology research. He believes that the problem was some dysfunction of the family, and he said that he thought he could change a few things in the family dynamic to fix this. WHAT?! Will was BORN like this. Honestly, Will’s life could be chronicled DAY 1: A child is born. He is called “Will”. DAY 3: Will talks back. This is not a created issue.

He said that he was sorry that we had not had a better experience the first time and we were right to seek help again or else Will could have SERIOUS ISSUES later. We needed to get started to undo the damage.

He also felt that Chris and I had expectations that were too high for our child and for us. Oh, please. It has not been the experience of anyone that I know that low expectations lead to a happy/successful life.

He asked lots of questions, like asking each of us what the other did wrong with when dealing with Will’s backtalk. He asked us each on a scale of one to ten how much Will’s reactions bothered us and how much we thought it bothered our spouse. Lots and lots of talk about me and Chris…..not much about Will. Obviously, we were the ones fucking this kid up.

I had brought the results of his school testing with me. He did not know what the Woodcock-Johnson test (I know, it sound dirty when I say it. It sounds like it measures erections) was, even though it is the standard test given in ALL Indiana schools. (Seriously, I cannot say it with a straight face. Apparently, I am a 12 year-old boy. Woodcock hee hee hee) He cared more about how I felt about the results than the results themselves….if this is the kind of therapy that Woody Allen received, it explains a lot.

I mentioned supplements that I have started to give Will. He “bah”ed me. (I have no idea how to punctuate that). “Bah” like that was the stupidest thing in the world. Um, dude, regardless of your degree, a few hours on Medline might be worth your time. Things have changed since ’78.

“There seems to be a lot of pain here, dealing with this child and this situation.” Oh, shut the fuck up. Yes, it is frustrating, and yes, it is hard to watch your kid struggle. Chris and I are emotionally mature adults with excellent mental health….whatever pain we have that is associated with this, we are dealing with it just fine right now. Can we please focus on the person in the room who is probably the one experiencing some pain he is not equipped to deal with?

He totally painted us with the stereotypical brush….Chris as the harsh disciplinarian and me as the helicopter mom. Chris has a deep well of patience, though it is probably smaller in diameter than mine. If you have read this blog, you know that I loathe and mock helicopterism and fearful parenting. These kids should be on autopilot by sixteen. A good helicopter mom would have had her kid at Kumon or Sylvan when he was four to work these handwriting issues out. Not me. FAIL to recognize a learning disability.

He offered nothing to us at all. He asked if we needed to schedule another appointment and Chris said pointblank “You haven’t told us anything. How would we know if we wanted to come back?” We told him we were shopping and he warned us that someone would try to label Will ADD and would want to medicate him, which he did not believe was the problem. Of course not. Chris and I are the problem! Though I did agree with him that medication was not an option. And if Will gets help, who gives a fuck what they call it? This guy labeled Will a tyrant…..not helpful.

Therapist Number Three (the winner)
The next guy deals specifically with high ability kids who have other issues. AD(H)D, autism spectrum, anxiety. He wanted the case conference report (post for another day), the test results, and his interview seemed geared toward Will. (I thought the test results were with the case conference report, but I was wrong, so I did not have them with us.) He wanted to know what we saw in specific situations. The questions followed a progression. He talked about what sections of the heee hee hee Woodcock-Johnson served as markers for different issues, either autism spectrum or ADD or issues with being strongly gifted in specific areas.

He was with us for two hours. The kids played in the lobby, as it was after hours. He called Will in to ask him questions based on what we had said, while the other guy had completely ignored the kids. When I describe his office, you will be shocked that we stayed.

The man loves Jesus, and I don’t mean that in a nice, MethoPresbyBaptiQuakeDisciplesofChrist kind of way. I mean he LOVES Jesus. I am so glad that the friend who referred us gave me a warning. His walls are covered with pictures of Jesus performing miracles, teaching parables, hanging from wooden planks…In addition, there are pastoral scenes, mountain scenes, ocean scenes, and skyscapes with Bible verses filling the gaps on the wall that do not include paintings of Jesus. All of the end tables and his credenza are covered with two things…..pamphlets about Jesus and cool, geode-type rocks. Meara read “An Introduction to the Book of Romans” while we were there which was in addition to “The Story of John, the Apostle,” “The Resurrection,” “God’s Plan for You,” “Do you know Jesus?” and many other titles that I cannot remember. It was a cross between a geological museum and booth at an evangelical convention.

The friend had told to look past all that, because he was worth it. I had my doubts, folks. I was not optimistic when I got there and saw that his license plate was PSALM 33, which as far as Bible quotes go, is pretty nice. I was ready to bolt if we were asked to pray away the backtalk. The only Jesus-y thing he said was “Have a blessed day” when we left. I wished him one right back. From where I sit, blessings don’t come from only one (or One) place, so take them where you can.

He looked at Will’s writing samples, like his journal for the whole year and spelling tests and marveled with us that his teacher had not thought this was an issue. He said dysgraphia is often an indicator for ADD. The great thing is that he gave us some concrete ways to work with him starting NOW. We have ordered templates that he will use with his eyes closed. Next, he is to finger-write the letter with his non-dominant hand. This will help build those pathways in his brain and make them permanent, which most of us did fairly easily when we were four.

Yes, he does want to dx him as ADD. There are two more tests to perform, but the gap between his processing speed tests and his general intellectual ability are pretty steep. I said I don’t really care about the label, but how do we fix whatever it is? Meds? NO! He has some computer-based programs that kids seem willing to do. He mentioned supplements. When I said Will was on Mg, Zn and l-theanine, he knew exactly what I meant, and we talked about how to introduce 5-HTP later.
He was able to tell us what is happening in what part of the brain when Will is having a bad day. He was able to describe a few ways we can intercept how those things play out and teach Will to do that for himself as well. All good news. I am actually looking forward to the next appointment.

Solar power

2011-06-21T14:04:00.004-04:00

Being Will's mom has been hard for most of his nine years. Eighteen months to 36 months....the only real break that I feel like I have had. He had terrific, not terrible, twos. I was rocking Meara the other day and thinking, I could have had three of these. Then I realized that I have three, but two of them (in terms of output required) are in the body of my son.

However, the fact that he is wicked smart makes up for it.

Today is Blob Day at our house. The first day of summer break, when no one does anything. He had this done by 9 AM.

I will give a full Will update when we have more information about his dysgraphia and other issues. Overall extremely good news. If I get a chance tonight, I will tell the tale of three therapists ;-)

Hair

2011-06-13T20:03:00.003-04:00

This

This

I am actually not that far away from the second one, which I don't consider short. I am just bored bored bored with the hair.

We also do not use the words "pixie" or "faux hawk" or any references to TomKat.

Frick on a stick

2011-06-12T20:43:00.007-04:00

I had a super-deluxe-awesome trip planned for our vacation. Twenty-one days: Glacier, Yellowstone, Teton, Badlands, Wind Cave, Mt. Rushmore. A western, National Park extravaganza! One problem....no jack. Srsly, even if we went to Glacier and back (you know, before they have to rename it because the glaciers are gone) no money. Frick.

So we looked at a loop through PA. Hershey, all the cool museums in Pitt, a Pirates game and a few days here. It was not inspiring. OK, but not crazy woohoo.

To drop expectations even further, we have completely trashed any plans for a real vacation. We now are doing the Louisville Slugger Museum, Mammoth Cave where we will stay at the Wigwam Village, cruise up to Santa Claus, and Chris wants pontoon excursion with the kids that will happen here. Patoka always feels a bit too rural for me. No "real" hotels, grocers or stuff. All of that will take up about four days. Meh.

The good news is that frees up some weekends for some other Midwest fun. We may cruise up to Sleeping Bear or possibly Warren Dunes (shorter drive, fewer black flies). We will probably try a new state park some weekend. We also will go to St. Louis this fall to visit The Bro and The Niece. St. Louis in the summer sounds HORRIBLE.

Frugality is shit. We are making due with what we have and trying to be grateful about it. The goal is still for me to get a job so that we can Disney it up over Super Bowl weekend.

Wah wah wah, my diamond shoes are too tight

2011-06-10T09:33:00.003-04:00

I have been absent, clearly. I have been working on a book with a friend, so if I have a moment to write, I use that time for the book. I have ditched Facebook, plurk and blogging. What I have found is that it is much more time consuming to edit research than it is to write. I do miss writing for me, which is why I am popping in here (if any of you are left ;-) for a split second.

As you probably know, for years and years I have wanted to write a book, but I did not have a topic that thrilled me or I was too afraid of fiction to start that. This opportunity kind of fell into my lap, and I am crazy grateful for it. The topic engages my history nerd, and I like the person who is the primary author and asked me to join him....the diamond shoes.

Some days the shoes feel a little snug. I have missed coffee with friends because my calendar clearly shows "book" for four hours. I like to have my kitchen clean by nine, but I edit best in the morning, so dishes, counters and floors wait until later. I prefer to run in the morning, but I have not been running at all because it gets too hot. I have want I have wanted for so long, but it has not come without some give and take on my part.

What has surprised me is how easily I have given up some things, mostly social media. My last job was all about social media and using it in a business capacity. That still makes sense to me. However, I get so much more satisfaction out of using that time to produce something. I could get lost in the Internet for long stretches of time, one article leading to another and half my afternoon POOF. TIME, HuffPo, NYT...their magnetic pull was irresistible. Even though I was an active recipient, the recipient part was not as fulfilling as creating content.

My deal with myself is that I can come here after the kids are in bed and create for me, since I obviously barely edit myself here. Today's calendar is marked STRAWBERRY JAM, so I need to get to it.

New year...

2010-12-31T13:13:00.002-05:00

I don't normally do "resolutions". I have done my "year of X" tradition for a while, but I did not for 2010. It turns out that when I look at the last 10 years, the changes in my life have come in May. I don't know if it is the 60-degree weather or the longer days, but May is when I seem to make changes that stick.

However, this year, I am making some resolutions. There are things that are not getting done in my little world, and while I find good things to distract me, they are still distractions.

Here is the list:
Less time social networking
More time managing my money
Less time at the kids' school (I am there about 20 hours a week, and I use it to keep from doing harder things)
Reading without guilt

Personal/professional jumble

2010-08-24T09:40:00.002-04:00

I am starting to have professional/personal crossover, which has me wondering if there should be a division. I guess the first question is "Am I the same person professionally as personally?" Mostly, I hope not, but I probably am. Second question, are things easier to manage if they are compartmentalized? Probably?

What started this were some of the things that I have been reading about social media http://leoville.com/buzz-kill for my job. I use Twitter to follow work-related topics, Facebook for a large circle of people, another social networking site for a specific group of friends. This blog is entirely personal, but what if I wanted to write about a work topic and put it out there. I don't want my professional life coming here, and you all probably don't care about open source CMS. Now it appears that I am going to have to create Work Anna and have a professional site.

I am excited about that. I really am. It also means more work. A new Twitter account. A new Facebook account with work contacts. Then I read Leo's post again and wonder if it is worth it. I feel like I need to have the trappings of a professional life to show that I am a serious player. The question is whether or not I can manage it all.

Childcare as a Feminist Issue

2010-08-21T11:28:00.001-04:00

I started a new job this month. It is part-time, contract work which is perfect for the summer months (I got to take the kids to the Indiana State Fair yesterday), and it happens to be a job that I am enjoying tremendously.

By far, the biggest stumbling block has been childcare. Chris tells horror stories of his mom’s choice of bargain basement childcare. They were hit, kept outside, not allowed to eat what the family was eating, etc. The one babysitter that they loved, his mom fired because she would not do the housework to the standard she had set. I am sure that there are teen agers who are great with that sort of thing (our teen sitter is for sure!), but many have not been taught how to clean. They certainly have not been in a situation where they have figured it out on their own. What an unrealistic expectation. As a result, the most fun sitter ever was fired and replaced with a dirty butt (who according to Chris also did not clean).

When I hire someone to watch my kids, I expect them to better at childcare than I am. When I am here, I am trying to do laundry, make appointments, weed the garden, manage dog hair AND take care of my kids. Often, doing all of those things makes me impatient and snappish. Someone hired to watch my kids should focus only on them. I am not saying that they should be a constant source of entertainment for them, but they should not be distracted by dirty bathrooms and arguing with insurance companies. I expect them to be me at the top of my game.

For this service, I am willing to pay quite a bit of money and hire top-quality people. I know that I pay more than the area average. I also know that I expect that person to exceed the area standards as well. One of Meara’s teachers from last year has helped us this month, and she protested the amount I offered her. It was the strangest negotiation ever, with her trying to pull the price down while I held firm. I told her that she was really bad salary negotiations.

What she does not understand is that I value knowing that my kids are safe AND HAPPY beyond what I could ever afford to pay her. As I have been mulling this over for a few weeks, I finally understand why childcare can be so inexpensive: we don’t value moms.

Oh sure, the Department of Labor does an insipid study now and then about how stay-at-home moms are worth $220,000 a year and aren’t we all grateful to have them do it for free!? The other night, I was listening to Marketplace on NPR. The story was about trying to place a value on the true impact of the oil spill on America, including the psychic impact. Harvard Economist Robert Stavins said this: If you don't put a price tag on it, then society judges it to be valued at zero.

Being a mom is a huge zero, which means that being replacement mom is going to be a bottom-dollar job. I completely understand the desire to hang on to every dime you make. If you are going through the hassle of going to work (and it IS a hassle), you want to keep every bit of reward that you can. However, the expense to the kids (also undefined by money) hardly seems worth it.

How is this a feminist issue? (Yes, I still use the word with pride. Suck it, you simpering Backlash Babies.) For starters, because there is no monetary value associated with them, we marginalize the women who choose to stay home. The thinking is thus: their jobs are unimportant, therefore they are unimportant. So much for the Power of Unity in the Sisterhood. Throw in the Mom Wars, and it gets worse. Part of making the choice to stay home also is making the choice to be invisible in a culture that only uses money as a measure of value. That sucks.

One solution seems to be that one can watch other mom’s children for money, so that mom can have a little pocket money and still stay home. We offer these women as little money as possible because when we were doing that job, we got nothing but joy and satisfaction. What the provider gets is the feeling “I am not paid enough for this crap,” which makes it really easy for her not to be substitute mom, but to put forth an effort equal to what she is paid. While the WOHM is moving up the economic ladder, she is probably is not bringing her stand-in up with her.

My childcare mantra this month has been High Expectation, High Dollar. This has been particularly challenging as I am paid monthly and have had to front a month’s worth of High Expectation childcare.

The flipside, of which there always is one, are the moms who seek high-dollar childcare and expect it to yield super geniuses, as the brochure advertised. That is merely a preference of which childcare style works for your family, or a preference for who will get your money. Our family’s preference almost universally is to give our money to people we know, whether it is for childcare, food or services. I have not hesitated to put money in the hands of The Delightful One or Miss Sunny Smiles. They are my stand-ins; they are doing the job better than I could; they are part of my community of women, and I am happy to bring them up with me.

Life With Anna B FLASHBACK

2010-08-15T18:13:00.003-04:00

Remember THIS POST?

Oh my gawd, y'all, I have a JOB! Not a job, but a *wonderful* job that I love. I am not 23. I know about the honeymoon phase of a new job, and I recognize that is part of it. I wish I could share more with you, but we all monitor the traffic about the company, and I don't want it to lead back to my personal blog. It is an Internet company, and I am doing their marketing. Ta da.

Right now, I am a part-time contractor, which is perfect. I am in four hours a day, but I still have time to make the magic that is me here at home. The biggest hurdle has been childcare. This is why women who don't work pause before they accept an offer. I am telling, you it has been crazy. Fortunately the kids' teachers from last year have had some availability, and they have taken several days. My mom has picked up the others, knowing that after Labor Day she is only on call for emergencies.

Now, with all that I do everyday to keep things humming here, some stuff is going to get missed. We almost did not get our fab new mortgage rate with shortened term this week because I was busy. My kids NEED hair cuts and look like urchins. Dog hair has not been managed as well as Chris would like.

Now, with all of my happiness, it has been a BUMPY few weeks. First, Will's beloved teacher is not coming back. He is, of course, devastated. The school will be in a new building, which has its own set of worries for him. Not everyone who was in his class will return next year and some will be moved. Poor kid. Last night he dreamed that we made him go to Dumpster Camp where the kids cleaned industrial trash bins, and the parents could not come rescue their kids. He has been testy and crabby and biting everyone's heads off, then breaking down in tears.

We still need to decide what to do with Meara. She wants to stay at school all day. We might have the opportunity for someone amazing to watch her at home in the PM. I would rather give the money to The Delightful One than school, but there are some advantages to school as well. That is a "stay tuned" issue.

For me to fully understand how things will go, I need the kids to start school. How much is there to do around here with both of them gone all day? I am certain that we will have someone come clean every other week for the major scum. I plan to have Chris take the kids, then I will run, do the errands, perform general house maintenance. If Meara is going to come home, I will pick her up, then go to work. If not, I will just head to work whenever all my other crap is done.

If you know me, you know that I have a plan for every dime from here to eternity. SEPs, 529s, Montana before the glaciers melt.....all without stressing about it. I get to have the financial life and professional life that I have wanted for years with minimal impact to the fam. Whatever the impact, I am sure 75% of us will deal with it.

Happiness

2010-08-07T16:25:00.002-04:00

Lesson learned, a little late.

I am not clinging to the things that are "supposed to" make me happy. I am done thinking, "I should be enjoying this" or "This is not as much fun as it should be." I am not going to do optional activities because I think they should be pleasurable. I am not falling for, "Come on. It'll be fun!" when I know it won't be fun for me. I will not participate in events that fill me with low-level dread.

I am not going to feel guilty when those "supposed to" activities leave me feeling "meh" or simply don't strike my fancy the way they do for others. There are many things that I should enjoy that I don't. Closing in on 40, I no longer feel less-than because of it.

Breaking the oil habit

2010-06-18T20:14:00.003-04:00

I feel that I have the solution to cutting our ties with oil. We take back all of our tax breaks and incentives. Shell, BP and their friends can fuck off. We use those to create a network of wind- and solar-powered electric "filling stations" for cars. Yes, you can still get your 32 oz big gulp, but the extra weight in your cup and your ass will cost you gas mileage.

Need a big truck for hauling and commerce? That is fine. We can still accommodate that. Fire up the diesel hybrid. If you can haul tons of dirty meat, you have room for a huge battery bank. But if you are driving around for errands or driving across country, clean electricity is there for your vehicle. Paid for with what we are owed by the current oil companies.

This will never happen. God, I hate people.

The other way to stop

2010-05-31T14:10:00.003-04:00

Bob Newhart used to have a bit where he was a driving instructor. One of his students asks about “the other way to stop.” “The other way to stop?” “You know, throw it in reverse.”

That is how I feel right now.

This house, which I hate, was supposed to be stop over. My first house; my starter home. This was where we would spend a little time in suburbia on our way to land and chickens and a goat and an orchard. I was doing enough to it to get by. Nothing fancy; barely interesting. Keep the resale value for the moment we are ready to sprint out of here. Heck, there have been times when I have looked hopefully into storm clouds and thought, “A tornado would not be the worst thing.”

But now we are here. For a long time.

The kids’ school is only 1.7 miles from our house. It is “just around the corner.” Six minutes roundtrip, which is great. We now have a new location. It is .6 miles from our house; less if we cut through the neighbor’s yard. My kids will get to walk to school. Meara starts kindy in the fall, so that is nine years at GMA until we wrap up there and by then, Will will be a senior. I have no idea what my kids will do for high school, but it seems unlikely that right before college we will be uprooting and moving.

15 more years in this house--this house that I hate. This house that makes me swear. This house that I thought I was leaving.

When the school began its search for a new location, I was OK with some place out of the area. A few months of driving all the time, and I could probably convince Chris that we needed to move. However, with this new development, we will have it long-paid off by the time people leave for college. Staying here always has been the financially smart thing to do. Emotionally, not so much.

Now the list of things to do to the house has change. We know that we will be here long enough to need a new roof (solar shingles?), a new driveway (porous, recycled?), new floors (hellloooo? Can I finally get my bamboo now?) and new windows (thank heavens!)

Of course not all at once.

This brings us to the question of what our lives will look like 15 years from now when I can stick a FOR SALE sign in the yard and walk away. I am willing to bet that at 55, a mini farm is not as appealing. I will have gone back to work somewhere along the way, so my time for baling, egg collecting and cattle maintenance will be reduced. I probably won’t be interested in beginning homesteading by then. I am thinking condo in Pinellas County, to be honest.

Now I have a whole new way of looking at this house. I have been here almost 11 years and birthed my daughter in our bedroom, but I have readily thought of it as someone else’s house. I always treated it with the caveat, “I’m not staying.” Now I am.

We Are the World, Haiti (again)

2010-02-14T09:24:00.001-05:00

See? It is not just me.

The Robin Hood tax--Bloody brilliant. Right-o, I say.

2010-02-13T16:13:00.002-05:00

Look what can be proposed in a country that is not greedy and selfish. (Welcome to a world of gross generalizations ;-)

I am sure that Regandrew will educate me on what is wrong with this, but on the surface, it makes so much sense. If you are a financial institution making dodgy investments, you have to pay. I do not know what kind of shenanigans British banks were up to in recent years, but the crap they were pulling here was just stupid. If you are not listening to the Planet Money podcast, I am sorry for you.

Anyway, when you totally fuck up with other people's money and then want the hardworking citizens to bail you out, we (the hardworking citizens) want something back. The Robin Hood tax could do that. Yes, I know. There are legitimate concerns about having the government manage large sums of money and allowing them to determine what is worthy. It is pretty much a forced charitable contribution. However, the events of the last three years have shown that the free market is not so great about it either, so why not give it a try?

Taking the children

2010-02-06T10:01:00.006-05:00

I have not talked about it much here, but one of the social justice causes that is closest to my heart is human trafficking. You can't grow up Quaker and not have the evils of human bondage not become part of your DNA. One of my favorite movies is Amazing Grace, partly because it rekindled my interest and introduced me to the modern issues of slavery. When I heard Benjamin Skinner on NPR one day, he talked about how easy it is to buy a child in Haiti for almost nothing. Kevin Bales is one of the most admirable Americans I can think of.

After hearing Skinner and reading his book, I jotted some notes in my "idea journal". I had the seeds of an idea to have a school in Haiti for restavec children. If they need someone "to stay with" it should not be as a labor source. When the earthquake hit Haiti, my first thought was about how to you keep out the traffickers. In the chaos, with no real government, it would be too easy to buy and sell children.

The Baptist baby stealers may or may not have had their hearts in the right place. I cannot know that. I do know that they had their heads in their asses. Good intentions have been a cover for human trafficking forever. Some US Southerners tried to justify slave holding by saying that they were saving these people from a hard life in Africa and saving them from hell by introducing them to Christianity. If they working under threats of violence, it was a necessary component of saving them. (Of course many Southerners did not even bother to justify their position, which seems somewhat better because it is honest.)

Whatever these abhorrent Americans are telling Haitian law enforcement, and maybe even themselves, they were acting in a way that devalues human lives. I say don't grant them bail. Make them an example: "Come to Haiti and take our kids? When we find you, you will never leave." If someone tries to steal a child or teenager for sexual exploitation and gets caught, it should be a life sentence. If you get caught taking money or giving money in exchange for a person, you die in a Haitian jail. Sooner than later.

As aid and chaos are working side by side in Haiti, I have wondered about my Haitian school. I am nowhere near being in the position to launch something like this right now. Haiti is nowhere near being ready for it. The plan is complicated by my basic operating plan, which is to house children who are being sold. Where is the moral line in paying for them to save them? Sounds suspiciously like the Baptists, doesn't it? If I don't buy them, someone horrible will. But paying for humans is wrong and encourages more traffic. My guess is that this problem is still around because it is so very complicated to solve.

This is something that will have to wait, so I have the time to work out the details. In the meantime, Haiti is building from nothing. They have a chance a remake themselves as they wish. Smart people are trying to give them a chance to emerge from tragedy with an economy and plan for governance that may allow them to rise above decades of poverty and overall mismanagement. If the Haitian people can come together and in one voice say,"This is what we want. Please help us get there," I think they are uniquely poised to make it happen.

Hello, I will be your old lady today

2010-02-02T14:21:00.003-05:00

These kids and their music....

The idea to remake We Are the World is ridiculous. Look this list of originals. Many of these people had multi-album, multi-decade careers or were so famous in the 80s that they were widely known (Lauper, for example). I am quite certain that my parents probably knew over 2/3 of the people in the video. It was a multi-generational event.

So who are these people? I have heard of about 40% of them and only recognize about 20 of them. Lady Gaga has been around, what? 20 seconds? You cannot throw Streisand in there and think that the Boomers are going to jump at this.

I think QJ should release both versions at the same time for Haiti. I won't buy the new one (hell, I don't even know who they ARE!), but I would buy the old one.

Edugripe of the day

2010-01-27T08:51:00.004-05:00

I am squarely in all camps of the educations debates. I homeschooled and believe it is a fundamental right of every family to choose to do that without government interference, notification or input. Will goes to a publicly-funded charter which is amazing, so I support tax funding for innovative education. It does none of the prescribed teaching methods for standardized test prep and yet, we jump through your silly hoops just fine. I am a product of a family of unionized teachers. You think teachers are underpaid and underappreciated now? I cannot even begin to imagine what public school teachers would be paid without collective bargaining.

I have found a way to be for all of these things at once, which I feel makes me uniquely qualified to be objective when any of them gets squirrelly.

My first complaint is about the Indiana House Education Committee.

COME ON, Guys! Seriously with the HB 1367? There are some good things in this bill, and I support it 90%. However, there is no need to take aim at charter schools, and some of the language may interfere with the way we receive Race to the Top money. Try some real legislation instead of pandering to the teachers' union. You were SO close. Charter schools are NOT your problem, dearest ISTA. Your problems are exhaustive and have been explained in other places if people would like to seek those out. You do some great things. You offer public school teachers a vehicle for reasonable salaries; you protect teachers who need to be defended against some of the crazies. Thank you for that, but you are not without some serious flaws that make it hard to take you seriously sometimes. This vehicle bill was just a chance for the House Dems to keep the ISTA happy without taking any risks. This probably will not pass a House vote, and every member of this committee knows that the Senate committee probably won't even hear it in its current form.

What have the Dems done? Given the GOP a springboard for firing up their base. My inbox has been full of this issue. Dems: Drop the charter language, and I can support it. ISTA: Get your head out of your ass and adapt to innovation. You are becoming a roadblock to real education. GOP: Making a big deal out of this is fearmongering when you know you will never allow this to see daylight as it exists.

While we are on the GOP, I give you complaint number two. Republicans: You are so insanely hypocritical that I am surprised you have don't have whiplash from talking out of both sides of your mouth. Who gave us NCLB? The GOP. This is an unfunded mandate that promotes teaching to the test. Anyone who says otherwise is either confused or selling something. Selling something? Anyone know how textbooks are created, adopted and sold in our country? You should pick up a copy of Lies My Teacher Told Me. Memorization is not learning. It does not teach thinking skills. What is asked on standardized tests is pretty "small picture", not to mention uninteresting. This is our goal?

Hypocritically, this is the same party who brought you vouchers and charter schools. How can you champion innovation and opportunity and exciting changes in how we educate (note that I did not say "teach") our kids while creating legislation that treats children and teachers like data in/data out processors? This approach does serve the GOP well because it keeps the Democrats confused on which battle to fight: Tying teachers to unimaginative curricula and micromanaging classrooms through education legislation or stripping public school budgets by allowing innovation to flourish at charters?

Final gripe: I am so sick of Republicans who paint public school teachers as lazy, uninterested and bad at their jobs. Most of the public teachers I know are dedicated, enthusiastic and love what they do. Most teachers leave education within the first five years of teaching. We don't have stats on why; I suspect for many it is to stay home with their children. It also may be for greener pastures. (This also is somewhat of a teacher union issue: if you cannot get behind some sort of salary + merit option, teachers always will feel unappreciated.) Clearly, the financial incentives are not there to keep them in the profession.

When you pay people low wages for a job, you will get two kinds of employees. The first kind are the people who will give you exactly what you pay for. When starting teachers are not earning much more than someone in a job that barely requires a high school diploma, some teachers will bring a level of professionalism that is commensurate with what they earn. Mostly, though, what you get are people who are dedicated to educating children and who are willing to do it IN SPITE of low pay and low appreciation. When you make teachers have to fight for every dime and every benefit while preventing them from exploring new ways to light sparks in children, some will not stick around or some will give up in the classroom.

Two years ago, I wrote to my second grade teacher to thank her for all that she had done for me. I mentioned specifically some of the things that I had loved about her classroom. She left me a voice mail that made me sad. She said my letter had reminded her of things that she used to be able to do in her classroom. The things I mentioned encouraged imagination, critical thinking and passion for learning. And now those things are gone? All so someone can prep kids for testing? What have we done?

Anna, Dog Walker

2010-01-04T18:31:00.001-05:00

I am a self-righteous dog walker. I secretly hope that you are too.

It is with great pride that I pass other dog walkers with my purple, biodegradable poo bag. Like a good purse makes a statement, my tote says, “Look at me. I am a responsible dog owner. Where is YOUR bag?”

My thing with dog poo is not new. I have been known to come flying at out of my house at Mach 2, thrusting a grocery bag at a neighbor. “Oh! Have you run out of bags? Here you go!” Then I smile expectantly and watch them clean their dog’s mess. “Have a lovely walk,” I say as I return to the house, knowing that I am obnoxious and not caring that I am.

My little, feces-filled bag announces a social norm. In this neighborhood, we do not leave our dogs’ business on other people’s property. If you do NOT have your bag visible, you are suspect. My bag of stink and steam says to non-dog owners, “I care enough about your yard to carry shit around with me. Have a nice day.”

Also, remember this: Wave good morning with leash hand; never with the other. Signaling a greeting with excrement is untoward.

So much to learn

2009-12-18T22:09:00.003-05:00

Chris and Will went to pick up W's new bed the other night. Chris told him that while they were in the car, it was a good time to chat.....and did he have any questions about sex.

"Well, yeah. What is the difference between 'baby sex' and 'beauty sex'?"

Good question.

Chris's answer was quite smart as well.

Beauty sex is when you have sex because something about the other person's hormones and your hormones attract you to each other.

What a great jumping off point to move from sex to sexuality.

Chris continued and explained that hormones will make you do dumb things. Some girl will say, "Hey, will you drive me and my friends around tonight?" All you will be able to think is that you will get so spend more time with her and she might sit next to you in the front seat. Maybe you will be close enough to touch her...

And later you will realize that you have spent all of your allowance on gas money to drive a pretty girl and her friends around. Chris told him that the hormonal pull to do things that are dumb are particularly strong in the first year. I plan to remind Meara of this as well....in the first year, guys are so hopped up on hormones that you can use that to your advantage. But I digress...

Chris said that is why you have to have certain rules that you never break. If the hormones get in the way, your rules will keep you safe. So one rule should be that you always, always use a condom. The hormones will tell you not to. But the rule is no matter what, use a condom. Without the condom, beauty sex can become baby sex.

He asked Will if he knew what else would happen if you did not. Will through out a few guesses, then sarcastically said, "You DIE!" "That's right. buddy. Sometimes not using a condom can kill you." From there, the launched into an overview of STIs.

Chris did not cover what I believe to be the number one rule, which is respect for yourself and your partner. I think we have a few years to cover that.

The next night, I took Will Christmas shopping. "While I have you in the car, do you have any questions about sex?" "Have you been talking to daddy?" He thought that was hilarious. Then he asked what my definition of beauty sex was. I said it was a physical expression of love. "That is not what daddy said." He did not want to tell me what daddy said, "Because you will say that is not right, then you will get in a fight about it." I knew what daddy had said, and I told Will that daddy and I agreed about what it was, but we just said it differently. We talked about how the two answers were alike and different. I repeated the necessity of condoms every time, and even if a girl says she cannot get pregnant, you still need to protect against diseases.

"So do people really kiss in bed?"
"Daddy and I do. It is one of the few times we are alone and can kiss as much as we want."
"But do you get on top of him and kiss him and make your head go all back and forth?"
"Sometimes."
"Really?"
"Yes, we are in love, and that is one way we show it. Where did you see this?"
"I think Iron Man."
Chris says there is no scene like that in Iron Man, but whatever.
"And I think the woman wore a shiny, white dress to bed. I saw a little bit."
"It must have been a special occasion."

Then we arrived at our destination and the talk was over. However, we continue to use the phrase beauty sex because it is so sweet.

Christmas song that made me cry

2009-12-13T22:59:00.003-05:00

Why I don't have/won't have a job

2009-12-09T14:18:00.002-05:00

Suzanne suggested that I get a job. I have considered it. I have missed working outside of the house. Here is my conclusion.

NO.

I do a lot in this house. I could do more. A few months ago, I read the book Quiverfull. More here. To entertain myself, I took the position that the man was the head of the household, and I was simply his helpmate in success. For a week. Quiverfulls seek to be helpmates in religious success as well, but whatever Chris and his faith do is totally not my area. Part of the program was to submit my list of things to do each day so that Chris could approve them or edit them. If there was a discipline issue with the children, I called him. I asked him if what I was wearing was pleasing to him. I made myself 100% sexually available, enthusiastically (enthusiasm is mandated). The only thing I did not do to experience this fully was yank the IUD and see what blessings were produced.

We had fun with it. He would ask, “Are you still worshipping me?” The thing he hated most was the list. When he saw what I did in this house everyday, he was stunned. With Will gone all day, the list is just as long, though different. I can conquer larger tasks like dealing with the playroom, washing windows, cleaning grout. Those things skipped by when I had to do lesson plans and execute them.

When Will went to school, the question started. “What will YOU do now?” Well, I still have a preschooler who loves her mommy and wants to be with me. She will only be half days until September 2011, so I thought I would keep raising her. Am I going to start working hard at freelancing soon? Yes. Once I get my house where it needs to be. That should be in March sometime.

When Chris asked what I was going to do, we talked about when I would go back to work and how that would look in our house. I know he would like help with the financial burdens, and I would like to contribute. So I showed him my daily lists again. “You will need to do 50% of these things.” He looked stunned. I smiled and closed Monster.com on my browser.

I find it mildly irritating that Chris’s life has changed very little since Will was born. He continues to take a class a semester. He continues to train for martial arts. I cannot even get a Saturday to take a continuing ed class. Part of that is totally on me. I would not miss one of my kids’ sporting events to take a class, and Chris does. I can name the ONE time my parents could not be at an event of mine. Out of my whole life….one. His parents went to almost nothing of his. I know how important it feels, and I am surprised that he does not understand it as well.

I don’t go to the gym as much as I could because I do not have faith in his ability to handle the kids’ nighttime routine and for people to be in bed, lights out, to sleep. This lack of faith is not unfounded. Plus, I have one-three meetings during the week for the kids’ things. I could choose not to be involved with their schools, but that seems wrong. Having them both in one school will help.

If I were to continue to do what I do and have a full-time, out-of-the-house job, there would be full-scale war here every evening. Suzanne jokingly recommended that I get a job, but it is my knowing of her experiences as full-time all-things-to-all-people that makes me hesitate. I would still have as much to do with less time to do it. I would become an insufferable nag. Yes, I would finger point and blame. Yes, I would throw fits about the inequality. I am not going to stress myself out like that. I am not going to stress my family out like that.

This is what our house looks like from 7:30 to 8:25. You can see there is some inequity.
Anna:
Get up.
Turn on lights in everyone’s rooms.
Get dressed.
Rub Meara’s back, kiss her, gently wake her by telling her how much I love her and how great her day will be
Same process with Will, plus tuck his clothes in with him because he wants to dress under the covers
Repeat the Meara steps
Return to our room to implore “breakfast guy” to get up
Whisper to each child, “Let’s start our day”
Make breakfast for me and Will (we don’t want eggs and toast everyday. We are oatmeal people)
Make lunch for Will and on Wednesdays for Meara too
Walk down to get the paper
Eat breakfast as a family
Start telling kids to get shoes on, brush teeth, get backpacks, etc
Brush my teeth, put on make up, comb through hair

Chris:
Get up at 7:45
Get dressed
Make eggs and toast
Maybe make his lunch
Brush teeth
Act exasperated because kids are not exactly where he wants them when he wants them to be
Leave

Unless I can get a part-time wife, I will continue to be a full-time mom.

Faulty memory

2009-12-08T09:49:00.005-05:00

Yesterday morning was one of those instances when I thought, "If we were still homeschooling..." There was about a 1/2 inch of snow on the ground. Everyone was so happy, tucked into flannel sheets, covered with thick comforters while darkness prevailed outside. "In the old days," I thought," Chris would not get up for another 30 minutes, and we would all stay in bed. Breakfast would be waiting for us, and our day would not really start until about 10." When Meara was born, and I was trying to get Will off to preschool, I told Chris that he either needed to dress the kids or feed them. Invariably, just as I was about to do one of those things, Meara would need to nurse. We have had eggs and toast every morning since February 2005.

The lazy morning seemed like the beginning of a perfect day. Will would do his seatwork without complaint while Meara and I mixed the batter for cranberry/chocolate chip muffins. We would cut snowflakes, and maybe spend the afternoon playing with friends. Aaaah, heaven. This is how I imagined most of our homeschool days would be. The dreamy, fireside, harmonious-family homeschool experience. That is what I thought of yesterday morning as I began waking the family.

Can I take you back to the reality of last December? I think the families that we typically saw most had at least one sick person from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Seatwork was a nightmare at that point. The homeschool co-op was not doing anything formal. Will's other classes were over. We did not leave the house much except for errands which were not QUITE as bad as seatwork. The house was a constant disaster. No one was happy. This explains why we started looking at options in January.

The reality of yesterday. Will wanted to go to school. Meara wanted to go to preschool. I ran errands alone while they were gone which were quick and painless and then DONE. At 4 PM last night, every member of the family was still happy instead of thinking, "Wow, I had too much of you today" which I know Will and I both thought frequently.

I remember thinking that sending kids to school was "the easy way out". I remember feeling selfish because I wanted to do something other than spend every moment of everyday with my children. How dare I not be 100% dedicated to my children! What kind of mother am I?!

I have had two conversations in the last few weeks that have brought this into perspective for me. One, parenting is hard. It is work, and it can be draining. The mark of a good parent is how you handle those times. It is NOT about making your life harder than it needs to be, then beating yourself up when you fall short. A "good mom" is not the one who is constantly striving for unrealistic expectations. It is the one who creates a good flow for her family.

I am not cut out to be with anyone 24/7, and that eliminates the option of being a really good homeschooling mom. Will needed me to keep him home for those two years, and the timing of the transition has been perfect for him. The timing was not so bad for me either. I was talking to a mom about preschool. She has two children very close in age, and they are getting the social interaction they need right now. She said she was in no hurry to have them out of the house. It was that very sentiment that helped lead us to homeschooling.

Now, I have been home 8 years. I am sick of this house. I am sick of simply being in this one spot all day. I am sick of every single thought involving my kids. It is true. I am ready to move on to something for myself. They are ready to move into an amazing school. We all are ready to have the tranquility that will come from that.

Head slamming

2009-11-23T13:31:00.004-05:00

I always have been conservative with money. Some might say tight. Some might say that I have a little OCD when it comes to the cash. I would say that it has served me well and that delayed gratification is what allowed me to go to Europe a few times. I am a saver.

We have been doing the Dave Ramsey plan, and we are tantalizingly close to ending Baby Step Two. A few months away. So. Freaking. Close.

I have found a way to spend $435 a month. Normally, I would look at that number, scoff and say, "BAH!" It actually would only be an additional $335 per month.

Meara's new preschool is fine. No place is perfect, and I understand that. However, Will's school is only 3 minutes away, and I spend at least 90 minutes with drop off and pick up for Meara on Mondays and typically 50 on Wednesday and Friday. That is a huge time suck. She could be just across the field. Three minutes WITH traffic. The difference is $335 dollars for her to go to Will' school.

The Montessori school only has a 5-morning program. Nothing for three days. I would be willing to pay the difference if it were a pro-rated amount, but the private school does not have that option. I like to think that I would not send her all five days, but let's be honest. NOT having her here is easier than having her here. I suspect the desire to get to the gym more often AND write AND keep a clean house would entice me to send her all five mornings.

The main thing is that we love the Montessori school. It feels like Meara is just being parked at her current school until she can get into the "good" school. It is not convenient, simply affordable. She does not love it there, but she is so adaptable that it is hard to know if she is unhappy.

So, we are tempted to push off the completion of debt relief for the betterment of our daughter's happiness. It would only be 5 months. When I put it that way, I can't believe I have to assign a price tag to that.

More birds

2009-11-20T08:39:00.002-05:00

Stupid Cooper's Hawk came, scared all my little friends AND one of them freaked out so badly that she flew into the window. A window to which I have attached the "do not fly into the window" clings. Natural selection, bah! I encouraged the hawk to move on, but the little ones are not back yet. Probably at a bird funeral.

Crazy bird lady

2009-11-19T15:10:00.006-05:00

I bought two new bird feeders to add to the variety of flight friends I have at our front window. I have a third addition (total of five) in mind as well. I also purchased squirrel corn. And put out some black oil sunflower seeds for the chipmunks. I have spent hours sitting at the window with with my laptop while I visit What Birdand Cornell Bird ID site. It is nerdy, and I don't care.

I am not an expert. I do not know their calls. I do not know their migratory patterns. I don't know the mating rituals. I barely know what they eat. I cannot identify them in flight.

If one is sitting 10 feet away from me, I am not going to offer its name unless I am sure of its general family. Yes, I get my finches mixed up. There are many of them with red markings, and I sometimes confuse them. I love my many varieties of chickadee, mostly because I am juvenile and like to say "titmouse".

I won't argue with you about what it is, because it is not that important to me. I will wonder why it is so important to you.

The space in front of you

2009-11-16T22:35:00.002-05:00

When a relationship is over, there is a space that is created that another person used to fill. The space is physical, emotional and in time. It can feel daunting and wild to recognize it.

I used to have a phone call around 9 AM most mornings during which I would clean my kitchen or a bathroom or fold laundry. It was lovely, and I miss it. I still have to clean my kitchen, but I left that space open for a while intentionally. This was something I had learned from a million years ago.

When someone leaves your life in whatever way it happens, their physical non-presence is disorienting. If you have ever had a pet die, how long did it take for you to stop looking for it? You expected to see it greet you at the door or a shadow would make you think it was coming around the corner like it had every single day you were together. When you exist in a space that used to be occupied by more people, you can feel the distance between you and inanimate objects more keenly. You understand how large or small a room truly is.

Whatever emotional space that person held is even messier. The grief, the fear, the pain not only usurp the places where you once felt tender and loving, they leak into other emotional spheres as well. What used to confound me, and probably still does to a lesser extent, is how you can feel so much so strongly and still feel incredibly empty. I have mentioned my broken engagement here before. I was overwhelmed by the loss, but I distinctly remember feeling a hole in my chest.

The absence of someone also creates a huge space in your time. No more phone calls, no more hanging out and chatting, no more after-work plans, nothing to DO. When the engagement ended, I lost a golf partner, 5-night-a-week dining out companion, someone to stay up way too late talking to, poker pal, lunch-break-check-in-caller POOF. gone. That was the immediate loss. I also had to look past that to see that nothing in my life's script was the same. Everything that I thought I knew: wedding, vacations, house, babies, back to work, retirement; all of those things were gone and the time and space stretched out beyond anything I could begin to see in the first few weeks.

I rarely mention this, but my husband was married for quite a while to someone else. When he came home and found her and her belongings gone, he gave himself a year and a day before he would date anyone else. He gave himself time to fill the the immediate and long-term space in the way he was choosing. He did not feel he had to rush out and fill every moment, though I can argue that with him all day. I think he spent a lot of time in activities to avoid an empty house, which is not a bad motivation. He started mountain biking. He began martial arts, which he had wanted to do since childhood. While these things did not replace her, they occupied his time in ways that helped fill the space physically, emotionally and with his time.

After my break up, I looked at my options and decided to get a masters degree. It met all my needs at that time.

What concerns me is seeing people who are quick to fill that emptiness instead of just being with it and looking at it. I did not run to the CD cabinet to find a way to fill the silence while I cleared the breakfast dishes and unloaded the dishwasher. I worked with the absence until I found something that could never replace those conversations, but still makes what I feel is good use of my time.

That open space gives one both isolation and freedom, but focusing too hard on one or the other makes it difficult to move from that place of staring down a part of your life that is now missing. Sit in isolation, and you loose the chance to fill that space thoughtfully and carefully. Relish the freedom, and you run the risk of filling the space with the trivial or harmful. Both of those opportunities can bring guilt. "I feel bad that I am using my time more wisely and that I am sitting here wallowing." "I feel bad that I am enjoying this loss a little too much." Mostly those two pieces sit together, on top of each other. There is a point where the 'shoulds' become 'coulds' and that is when you know you can act from a place of having been true to yourself. You had the space, you looked at it carefully and filled it passionately.

Test of compassion on the horizon

2009-11-16T21:28:00.002-05:00

I cannot complete a Year of Compassion in good conscience without addressing the relationship in which I have made NO attempt to be kind, mend fences or seek a compassionate heart. If you have read anything here before, you know of whom I speak....the MIL.

Yep. I need to work on that one. I have no place to begin. We have no common ground. We have no specific wrong to address. The truth is that we just don't like each other that well. She has no idea how to take me and gets offended easily, which I kind of promote when I am fed up with her. I think she is closed minded, narrowly focused and too in need of validation. She thinks life is a series of events you cannot control that rip your heart out. I think life is an opportunity with some unexpected challenges.

When I separately mentioned to my mom and sister that there was one relationship that needed to be rebuilt, they both said, "I hope you mean Pat."

We will go there on Saturday, and I will propose to her that I feel she is unhappy with our relationship. I will offer her ways for us to discuss it: then and there, over email so that it is not so intense or not at all. She has said that she cannot change, and if she feels that way about this as well, I can accept it.

I see the biggest hurdle for me. It will be explaining why I have trouble giving her the benefit of the doubt without it sounding like I am enumerating all of the ways in which she has pissed me off in the last 10 years. Devin and Teresa are dead, so they are no longer an issue. But they were central to the way she treated me and treated Chris in those first seven years. There is much more damage done than undone.

"Can't you just be nice to her?" my mom asked. Um, no. If it were that simple, I would already be doing that. I can adopt a strong pro-wine policy though. It may come to that; I don't know.

The key to this is that she is going to have to stop with the unsolicited, crazy advice and personal questions. I am not interested in putting Neosporin up my nose when I have a cold. I don't feel like sharing the value of my home, the amount of my mortgage payment or how much I spend a year in food. I am not AT ALL interested in telling you my medical history, getting your advice on childrearing or hearing your thoughts on foreign policy (she thinks no one can enter Israel if they are not an Israeli citizen).

I think this can be fixed if she will learn to think before she speaks. If she doesn't, I have to assume mental illness on some level and approach it from that viewpoint.

This is not going to be easy. Part of me hopes she plays dumb and says, "No, everything is fine. There is no work to be done here." I don't need a 100% success rate to learn the lesson.

Ms. Judgy McJudgerson

2009-11-03T09:20:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I touched briefly on being judgmental. It seems to be a topic all its own as it relates to my Year of Compassion (hurrah).

I have a friend (Hi, TR!) with whom I have spent so many beautiful hours in intentional sacred space. We also have spent many beautiful hours in intentional goofiness, which is another reason I love her. In moments of creating dreams for ourselves, she often has said that she wishes to be less judgmental. I have to remind her, “If you don’t judge them, how can you rank them?” Her typical reply is, “You’re terrible”, said with equal parts of disgust and affection. Not everyone can pull that off.

I cannot speak for TR and how she came to her judgy place, but I certainly can tell you how I got to mine. I went to a school where being right was held above all other values. I do not recall a single lesson about being a good person. Character education certainly was not around. It was more of a “be nice or be punished” set up. However, if you were smart, you were glorified.

In first grade, we did not get grades (much to my dismay) until second semester. Our papers were marked with a star, a check or check minus. Oh, that star! It certainly set you apart from the check people. If you got all of the problems right, you got a scratch and sniff sticker (“You’re grape!” “Berry good job!”). Clearly, you were better than everyone else, and you had the sticker to prove it.

This was pretty much the entirety of my education. Be smart, be the best, be rewarded. Nothing, nothing, NOTHING is more important than being right. Don’t ever forget it. If you are right, you are special.

Who wouldn’t want to be special?

The Quakerism I was raised with was much more mainline Protestant than the Liberal Quakers on either coast. If you were right, you went to Heaven. If you were wrong, you could be forgiven, but you had to ask for it, and you had to mean it. If you were wrong and unrepentant, you were a sinner and you went to Hell. Being right…choosing the right thing, being Right with God, knowing the laws and following the path of RIGHTeousness. Again, there is nothing better than being right—you get eternal life with your Creator which is so much better than eternal burning.

In my family, we have a story. No one remembers what led up to it, but my brother said, “That’s thing main thing in this family; everyone thinks they are right all the time!” And we do. One thing I learned early was that I do not argue debate or discuss things about which I know not. This accomplishes two things: 1) You are never wrong, merely absent from a conversation. 2) You appear to be right a large percentage of the time. There are many, many topics that I will never discuss. Many people in my group of friends practice yoga. I simply listen when it comes up. I don’t know enough about it to be right, so I just listen. Legal matters? Unless I have a computer on my lap so that I can look something up, I say nothing.

To this day, there are few feelings that I enjoy as much as being right. Happiness is never having to say, “I told you so” because it is so obvious that I told you so.

So much for the Year of Compassion (hurrah). Not judging, or at least correcting myself when I judge has been as byproduct of this year. I did not set out to put an end to my judging. Why would I? That would eliminate my feeling right and special, which I enjoy.

This should be the part where I get all Nicholas Sparks on you and realize that there is something better than feeling special….feeling love and unity with my fellow humans. Seriously? It is a Year of Compassion, folks, not a brain transplant.

However, I will say that being able to say, “It is not about me” helps cut down on the judging tremendously. I start to put on my superiority ….I am not sure what fictional garment works best here. I was thinking vest, but I dunno. Hat? I will go with cape. I put on my superiority cape, and I pause to realize, “This is not about me. Lady, if you want to feed your kids fude, go for it! It is not about me. Blessings to you.” When I say it enough (crappy food mom and I intersect in each aisle), I start to really want blessings for her. And for her kids, because eating that load of crap she serves them, they will need it.

See how I am conquering it in small parts? It is still very much a work in progress.

I started the year trading my behind-the-wheel curses for yelling, “Blessings to you!” Will found this to be hilarious. The blessings were delivered with the same tone and venom as my negativity, but I believed if I kept it up, I would start to believe it. I have. Overtime, my voice has softened. I try to believe that they would not be jerks if it were not important. I understand that in times of great lateness I have been the jerk and could have used a little forgiveness. When I call out “Blessings to you”, I mean it about 90% of the time.

We all judge. It makes us feel better about ourselves. It tells us that at least there is one poor soul out there doing worse than I am. Some days, I am the poor soul that serves to give someone else’s spirits a lift by doing something less right (not wrong…can’t be wrong) than he or she is. If I can continue to focus on the truth, which is that it is not about me, I can reduce my need to right and thereby special, and I can greatly reduce the judging. I am not sure what that accomplishes in the aggregate other than it is one branch on the tree of compassion.

Year of Compassion continues

2009-11-02T12:08:00.002-05:00

In the Quaker tradition, the congregation sits in silence with the belief that the Spirit will “speak to your condition”. If you are still and keep quiet, that which is on your heart will be heard. Yesterday, the Reverend Amy Kindred (isn’t that the best name for a UU minister EVER?) visited our church and did, in fact, address some of my issues.

She spoke on the book, The Four Agreements. It is a Native American story that tells of four rules for creating a peaceful world. I don’t remember the last two; the second was so directly related to my Year of Compassion on my work on forgiveness that I glossed over the last 10 minutes.

The first agreement is: Be impeccable in your word. I don’t have an issue with this 99% of the time. Having been raised Quaker and its all-truth-all-the-time core, I do not mess with untruth. It makes one untrustworthy, and I don’t have time to go back and cover up lies all the time.

The second agreement is: Don’t take it personally. She gave wonderful examples to illustrate how we often take things personally, and how when we don’t, we are probably seeing the world more accurately. This idea strikes at the heart of Year of Compassion and issues of forgiveness.

I want to start with the person who has committed an injurious act. It is not about the injured person. What is happening with the person who acted outside of right relations? Why were they so caught up in themselves, their own pain, their own need to be special that they brought conflict? Becky Bailey notes in Easy to Love, Difficult to Discipline that anger is born of fear. If you are angry, you actually fear something.

An exercise that I do with Will to diffuse his drama is to take his fear to the meta conclusion. “You are angry because I told you to clean your room, why?” “Because I don’t want to.” “What are you afraid will happen if you clean your room? That you won’t have Legos all over the floor? That you will be able to find a book when you want it? You’re right, that sucks.” He is much easier to deal with when I use humor. It usually comes down to his being afraid that he will not have time to play with his friends and being afraid that he is going to bossed around and not have control of his own schedule. Both are things we can address and fix.

Let’s look at this from the injured party. In Reverend Kindred’s example, someone breaks a lunch date, you think, “She must not want to see me THAT badly.” Something probably has come up; it is not about you. Someone doesn’t say “hi” as she passes your desk at work. “She doesn’t like me.” Again, it is probably not about you. Sometimes the injury is more direct, and someone hurts your deeply. While it does of course hurt, it probably was not about YOU. You were probably collateral damage.

There is a UU podcast, Voices of Liberal Religion, which I love love love. I think I have mentioned it here before but he says that we should not forgive our wrongdoers, we should love them. By speaking of traditional forgiveness, we put ourselves in a place of ego. We have the power and control over the situation by determining who gets our forgiveness, who is deserving, how it is meted out. We put our specialness above loving kindness. No one is so special that they should feel they have the power to demand penance for a wrong or to make someone pay for a grievance.

As UUs, we are called to believe that everyone is doing the best they can with what they have at any given moment. Reverend Kindred made the unforgettable point that sometimes our “best at the time” is not so great and leaves pain and heartache in our wake. Your best in one moment may not be your best in another. When you choose not to forgive, when you hold on to your anger, when you judge….these are not your best moments. Release them and find your better self. Rise to the moment, open your heart, let go of judgment and act from a place of true love. I am sorry for your dark places which hold you back. Please be compassionate with mine.

When I look at the people whom I have the hardest time forgiving, I do the meta fear exercise. I find it extremely hard to forgive my MIL for the way she parented and the way she treated Chris and I were Teresa and Devin were still alive. It is very hard for me to suspend my judgment and go with “She did the best she could at the time with what she had.” I grit my teeth at seeing that as someone’s “best”.
What do I fear?
I fear that she will continue to hurt Chris.
Why is that scary?
I don’t like to see him hurt.
Why is that scary?
Because when he hurts, I hurt.
Why is that scary?
Because pain is an out-of-control emotion.
Why is that scary?
Because I like to have a grip on things. Are you new here?
Is that something you can let go? Can you go back to your belief that pain and disappointment are a part of life. Light and dark. Happy and sad.
I can arrive at the point where I accept the pain as shitty, but temporary.

To bring this idea of compassion all the way around, the irony is that when we choose NOT to forgive or to love, we are perpetuating pain. When we choose not to accept the apology of someone, we need to recognize that it is a fear within us that stops us from restoring right relations among us. We are creating the same damage, either intentionally or accidentally, as was done to us. My harbored resentment for MIL hurts her. I don’t mean for it to. I do not set out to seek revenge. But I know that my frosty disposition and my withholding affection from her upset her. I am working on it.

Knowing that none if this is about you also helps you stop judging. When I see a grocery cart full of shit food, I judge. I really do. If I accept that she is doing the best she can at the time and that this is not about me, I can continue on my obsessive-label-reading way. I also make a note that my judging was not the best me either.

Sometimes, the injury is intentional and punitive. “You screwed me, and I am giving it back 10 fold.” Again, we have to assume that there is some darkness in the person who feels the need to seek revenge, administer justice and inflict on you the pain that they hold. When you are faced with this, try to have compassion in your heart for that person and believe that they are doing the best they can. It may not be the best that you would want, but in the end, it is not about you.

If you want something fun to do today, try applying this to foreign relations. It will blow your mind.

(also…I am not doing NaNoWriMo, but I am going to try to blog more this month. You have been alerted.)

All kinds of crazy

2009-11-01T18:50:00.003-05:00

Everyone of us is crazy in someway. Or at least not crazy in a way that others find crazy. Well, someone, somewhere thinks you are somewhat crazy. Or something.

My husband's unique brand of crazy would be funny if you did not live with him. He has an unreasonable attachment to stuff. No kidding. His big fear is that I am going to throw out everything he had before we got together.

This fear is not unfounded. Specific items have been threatened. In my mind, they serve no purpose. They will never be used. They are ugly (he has some really horrible sweaters from the 80s that are still here). They are things to which I cannot imagine anyone could form an attachment, but he has.

One of those things is a TV. I hate the TV. I always have. It is HUGE. I find it obnoxious. I also find it ironic for a family that does not have cable, satellite or even an antenna. We don't do TV here. We do some Netflix. We use our computers for most of our screen time. I have not missed the TV since it died over 18 months ago. However, it has sat in our living room as a monument to.....I honestly don't know.

We have gotten by using our DVD players on the PCs or the kids will watch my tiny 20" TV that has undefinable colors that fade in and out. I have been OK with that. I told Chris from the beginning of our relationship that I don't like the message the BIG TV sends. It is not who we are. His family? Hell, yeah! His parents watch 2 hours of soap operas everyday and who knows what all evening. TV is not important to us. Even at our peak, it was an occasional use item.

Chris's theory on big purchases is this: Either get the best or just enough to get by. I honestly have no comprehension of this. Because he got the best TV in 1995, we still have it and that apparently is not changing. We have his parents' truck for the week, so he has loaded the TV to take it for assessment and possible repair. I don't care if we ever have satellite again, but it would be a great TV for Wii. If we had one, which we don't. Those who know me know that I am far too cheap to consider purchasing one.

I do have a limited understanding of attachment to things, though not ugly sweaters. When Chris and I had been dating a while and I was spending most of my time at his place, every few weeks I needed to go to my apartment to see my things. I know---my own brand of crazy. That apartment was the first one where everything in it had been purchased by me. Lots of items purchased with six months same as cash. My TV, furniture, stereo, VCR, deluxe mattress...the products of a lot of overtime and careful budgeting. You know what? Most of that crap is gone. I did not shed tears or demand that we keep them. We gave things away, some things wore out, sometimes we realized we did not need two of something and it went to Goodwill. I was OK with it.

The TV from Hell will come back this week, repaired and ready for action. Have I mentioned that no one here has time for TV now that we have kids in two schools? Plus, Chris is taking a class, doing consulting, plus all the grease stuff and auto maintenance. Who does he think will use this, and what does he think we will watch?

Honestly, I have grown to enjoy the cozy of a laptop to keep me toasty while I watch my own little screen with my headphones on.

She has SNAPPED

2009-10-19T16:36:00.001-04:00

Yes, Meara has learned to snap her fingers. To Van Halen's "Jamie's Crying" no less. It was a happy moment in the backseat.

Atheist Battles

2009-10-19T13:46:00.003-04:00

There was an NPR story about a rift among atheists. It really toasted my cheese.

I went through my first major religious upheaval 17 years ago this fall. There have been a few minor ones that have brought me to this point. Where I am now--nontheist. I am not arrogant or smart enough to say without a doubt, "There is no higher power." There may be, but I do not personally believe that there is. That does not mean that I do not believe in religion. I am a UU in its current incarnation, through and through. I look forward to Sundays, when I join other like-minded people and we celebrate the lives that we have, our interconnectedness and our community that comes together to make the world a better place. I call it the church of logic and be nice to people. Science is celebrated, not mocked.

In getting to this place, I studied A LOT of religious traditions, and embarked on my own personal, DIY, Comparative Religions degree. Some things made sense. Most did not. Raised Quaker, with NO ritual or symbolism, the Catholic church's focus on rites was fascinating. There is a scene in Big Love where Chloe Sivigny's character is enrolling her child in a Catholic school and discussing the beliefs. Her reaction to eating the actual body of Christ was almost identical to mine. (I still don't understand the draw of eating your Savior, but whatever.) The monotheism of Judaism without the Virgin births and Resurrections was temping as well. The nontheistic branches of Quakerism probably would have been my choice had there been any congregations in the area that were accepting of that.

I have retained my original faith's meditative and pacifist ways. I like my religion to be quiet and thoughtful. I always am amused when people say they believe in God, but are not religious, while I am religious but don't believe in a supernatural entity that involves itself in our lives. Whatever gets you through the day...

It is exactly that spirit of "Whatever gets you through the day" that we all could embrace with a tone of civility and a drop of, dare I say it, compassion. While I do not necessarily respect someone's religious beliefs, I try to respect the person who holds them. There are some very basic ideas of religion that I find are just loony, from my perspective. As someone who wants to see actual facts and evidence, much of religious belief is beyond anything I can grasp. To meet my questions with the answer, "I just have faith" makes me want to jump up and down and start drawing logic diagrams. I am not someone who needs faith; I need data and the capacity to analyze it.

The other thing that I need is for people not to be assholes. Seriously. It is pointless, mean-spirited and paints your cause (whatever side you are on) with a shadow of revulsion. I hate people bashing gays in the name of God with as much passion as I hate nontheists bashing Christians for clinging to Creationism. Each side claims to be justified, but neither is.

Here is a chunk from the NPR story:

For example, Christopher Hitchens, a columnist for Vanity Fair and author of the book God Is Not Great, told a capacity crowd at the University of Toronto, "I think religion should be treated with ridicule, hatred and contempt, and I claim that right." His words were greeted with hoots of approval.

Religion is "sinister, dangerous and ridiculous," Hitchens tells NPR, because it can prompt people to fly airplanes into buildings, and it promotes ignorance. Hitchens sees no reason to sugarcoat his position.

"If I said to a Protestant or Quaker or Muslim, 'Hey, at least I respect your belief,' I would be telling a lie," Hitchens says.

Asked why he feels compelled to be so blunt, he responds: "I believe it's more honest, more brave, more courageous simply to state your own position."

He is not simply stating his own position. He is being an ass for no good reason. I do agree with some of his point of how religion hurts societies. I get it. He is ignoring a body of evidence that also shows where faith has helped societies. Do I think religion is a huge drag on the progress of the US right now? Absolutely. I am happy to discuss why I believe that with those of faith, but I am not willing to mock them, call them stupid and act like a total bitch about it.

One of the most galling things about this is that with 40 million nontheists in the US right now, we have a chance to carve a legitimate/legitimized place for ourselves in the nation's policy and practical discussions. It IS brave to be in the US and say you are nontheist. For the first time, there is an opportunity to create an atmosphere of goodwill where we are not discounted simply because we are not believers in god(s). However, by acting as hateful, rude, arrogant shitweasels, a faction of the nontheist movement is going to ensure that we continue to be marginalized, discounted and hated.

Ironically, for many in the religious community, these militants are confirming everything that has been believed about nontheists. We have no god, and therefore no heart.

I am married to the guy who does these things

2009-10-18T16:28:00.002-04:00

I had posted on the Bloggers Action Day for Climate Change that I was bummed about the whole thing. No political will. No financial ability for individuals. Life is a shit sandwich, nom nom nom.

That night, the spouse came home and announced that he thought he could make solar panels for about $100 a piece. I am not sure how quickly he plans to act on this little venture. I would guess in Feb. to try to prep for months when we actually have sun. The point is, it is just like him to do this. "Can't afford it? I will build it." And the crazy thing is that he does. All the time. He believes that he can fix or build anything if given enough time. I have told him that at no time will he be constructing a thermo-nuclear reactor in the crawl space. However, if he wants to put in a DIY geothermal system, I can live with that.

The spouse did go to some of the sites for the Indiana Solar Tour a few weeks ago. One of the issues where he and I part ways is energy usage. He believes that there is a big ball of energy that appears on the eastern horizon every morning and that conservation is unnecessary with that kind of energy available, renewable and free. While that is true in the macro, that does not help our little home. He met a very wealthy family on the tour that does just that. I am the energy conservationist here. I am looking into awnings to promote passive solar, concrete floors to replace the carpet in the south room and using the sun to heat M's room more efficiently. On the solar tour, he saw something that intrigued me.

I am going to try to describe this to you based on the spouse's drawing, and it will probably fall short, but I think you will get the idea. One of the homes was a tri-level structure, so the bottom living area had high, short windows. On the south side, a small pit was dug near one of the windows and filled with black rocks to absorb the heat. They had some sort of clear (plexiglass?) cover. All day, the sun would heat the rocks. At night, the owner opened the window and let all that warm air come into the house and drift to the upper levels. Brilliant. If one was not lazy, which I often am, you could leave the rocks in a wagon of some sort in the sun all day. Bring them in at night to radiate heat in rooms where you don't get good heat distribution.

Chris has all kinds of other crazy ideas, many of which involve burning wood. He will tell you in great detail why he loves wood heat. He does. A lot. In a way that I find pathological. I will not have the mess of wood heat in the house. I have enough mess, thanks. But his ideas are fairly brilliant. Maybe he can employ them in a barn someday ;-)

Blog for Climate Change Day

2009-10-15T15:07:00.002-04:00

I am a ray of sunshine today. (Harness me and use me to cook your dinner) I am really in an ugly place on climate change. I sit here in a the computer complex at home with my coal-fired electricity connecting me to you and KNOWING that some poor mountaintop in Appalachia is being destroyed because of it. I have come to some sad conclusions.

America does not have the political will to make positive changes. The anti-intellectuals who either cannot or choose not to understand climate change are putting a plug in meaningful legislation. They are not alone. They are shored up by those who believe profit is more important than ethics. Those two groups alone can outspend and outbuy any meaningful environmental lobby.

Oh, the environmental lobby. I don't know how, but they have got to all come together and act as a single force. NRDC, Sierra Club, NWF....I am afraid if you do not band together, the message is murky, oft-repeated and oft-ignored.

I see the 10 Things You Can Do Right Now to Save the Planet articles. We run our cars on grease. We have solar water heat (fat lot of good it has done me in the last two weeks). The house is full of CFLs. My heat stays at 68; my A/C at 75. I have done all I can do at this point without adding debt, which I won't do. I hate that I don't have a PV system, a windmill and an entirely edible front yard. We just are not there yet.

The cheesy articles are right, though. I do not think our government will be able to do what needs to be done. It is going to be the committed and the few who make the "right" decisions. Unfortunately, most of us cannot afford a wind turbine or a complete solar outfit. The ones who COULD afford it seem to be the ones who are the least.

We have found the virus, and the virus is us.

Walk more.
Plant your own food.
Hang your laundry to dry.
Change your lightbulbs already!
Don't eat commercial meat.
Put on a sweater.

It won't be enough, but it will be something.

Hoping for failure, drama and mental illness

2009-09-09T12:30:00.002-04:00

Oh, MIL. You continue to give with your special brand of dysfunction and crazy.

Will started school yesterday. It was great. He loved it. He complained about journaling, but if he had not, I would have taken him back and demanded my REAL child. He did earn an incident report (on the first day! overachiever!) when his fingers got smashed in the door. One of the first things he asked me...."Did you know I get to check the work of the first graders?" I did.

MIL had called a few weeks ago to ask Will about his first day. I told her that we did not have official notification, and that he probably would not start until closer to October. Call back when he actually goes. I was wrong about the start date, but still, she was confused. On the upside, that prepared me for the fact that she was going to call yesterday.

Post-school was not great for Will. He did not sleep much the night before, which was to be expected. EVERYTHING was new. That is a lot for my Spirited Child to take in a seven-hour period. Plus, that is along time for best behavior when one is being bombarded with information and cannot take a break from it. Even a break at school would have been something new. So he was a wreck when he got home.

I got the same high-drama, bitchfest about homework as I did about seatwork. It was Oscar worthy. He finally got it done, settled down and read his Lego mag. After dinner, he was much better, went to play with the neighbors and that is when she called.

I told her he would call her when he got home. Then we moved into the bedtime routine, and by the time I remembered, it was too far into the process to make adjustments.

I emailed her and said that he was kind of a mess afterschool, so we were sticking to our home routines and I would have him call her afterschool today before the homework drama began. This is the response:

Maybe Will will tell me what's bothering him. It's quite an adjustment to go back to school. I'm sure he's apprehensive after the last time. I'll see if I can get him to talk more. The first week is always the worst for a child.
Particularly when they've been home most of the time. All of our children have to go out into the world sometime though, and I wish Will a good adjustment.

God, Anna! Lighten up! It's not that bad. She is trying to be helpful! Sheesh.

You would be right to think that, and I will get to the compassion part later. In the meantime, I am going to bitch.

I don't know what she means about "the last time". The last time was preschool. He was not going to earn any behavior awards there, but it was not traumatic for him.

We don't need Will to talk more, open up or tell us what is bothering him. There has never been a moment when he did not. We always know exactly what is bothering him, the source of the bother, the way he feels ABOUT his feelings, how it impacts him now and in the future and what should be done to fix it. If this were actually about Will, it would be wonderful and grandmotherly. The problem is that it is about HER.

As I have written here before, she lives to be needed. She takes in strays (people, not dogs), counsels unsuspecting waitresses and imparts half-truths in doctor's offices all over Southern Indiana. She wants to find the problem and be the savior that solves it. She wants to be the one who got Will to confess that he has been doing weed in the restroom at school, that he has a goat fetish or that one of the kids called him a poopy diaper baby. She WANTS there to be more than the average adjustment period for a highstrung kid so that there is drama.

The other stuff is just vapid platitudes. She and I have debated many times about how you have to "let children go out in the world". We run a free range house here. Will goes out into the world. I have worked very hard to give him the tools he needs to have freedoms. Two of her kids went out into the world and found drugs, dangerous sex, abuse, criminality and death. Does she really think she should be giving parenting lectures on letting kids go? When we have talked about kids breaking the law, she says, "Every family goes through that time when they pick their kids up at the police station." Umm, no, they don't.

Now can you see that this was not an offer to help; it is chance for her to uncover some sort of underlying torment in my child. She actually hopes to find something horrible.

Compassion point: Hurting people hurt people. Her life was a shit sandwich from day one. Crappy parents, pawned off on relatives as child labor, crazy mom. She has not had any type of counseling that was not court-ordered. She does not know what healthy minds look like, and if something goes wrong with my kids, then in her mind, she is not a bad mom. These things just happen to everyone. However, that does not give her the right to get all dime store therapist with my family.

Chris told me to let it go (is he new here?). I did not. I replied with:

What is bothering him is no mystery. Will is not one to hide what is upsetting him and why. He is very open with his feelings, both good and bad. I don't think there is anything to uncover here, but I will have him call when he gets home.

Stop wishing ill on my kids so that you will have something to fret over!!!!

Year of Compassion, Hurrah!

2009-09-07T23:00:00.002-04:00

I have had a few weeks of really high-intensity turmoil. Some brought on by me; some just part of being. I was in a situation where I reached out to some expected resources for guidance (literally, “Please guide me in my next step” guidance) and wisdom. Sometimes when you ask for it, it is like you have the Batphone to insight.

A friend of mine from high school also is a Friend. (Shout out to Pastor D! Quakers in the ha-youse!) I gave him a cursory overview of what was going on, and he shared something that, without dramatic exaggeration, changed my life. “Healthy people help people. Hurting people hurt people.” (This might be a paraphrase, but this is how it is working for me right now.) Simple, and yet, wow.

I had named 2009 my Year of Compassion. A musical friend of mine wrote a song called Anna’s Compassion that listed the things that were not worthy of my compassion. One person I know noted that compassion would be so much easier if there were not so many assholes in the world. I laughed in agreement, but I am not sure that compassion is supposed to be easy. With Pastor D’s handy adage, it became much easier for me. (And I have shared it with you for FREE since we all are friends here.)

There have been times this year (so far) when I have come away from a situation with a fist pump in the air and saying, “Now THAT is what I am talking about! Compassion, baby! Feel it, be it, live it!” I had totally outscored my previous self in the compassion department. There have been times when I have done this in the most unlikely times. I felt like I was getting this whole empathy thing.

Other times I have had to stop and say, “What would a compassionate person do here?” These were times when it was a wholehearted fake-it-‘til-you-make-it moment of compassion. I acted compassionately even when I absolutely did not feel it. It is very hard to watch someone make unfortunate choices over and over and be able to say, “I am so sorry. How can I help?”

Worst were the times when I fell so short of the mark, as I have recently, that I want to say, “Fuck compassion. It is too hard. It is not who I am. The world NEEDS assholes to make the rest of you look good. I am here for you; shine on.”

The Healthy People/Hurt People truism? Why didn’t I have this phrase sooner? I think everyone knows that cycles of violence in families are damaged people who damage those around them. I got that. When someone does something nice and good and helpful for someone else, he is more likely to do something nice and good and helpful for another person. I got that. However, there is something about the brevity and logic of the statement: Healthy people help people; Hurting people hurt people. It speaks to my if-then brain in a way that nothing has before. I am sure there are a shit ton of books that explain it in detail with anecdotes and analogies. I already had all those. I needed the title, the quick reference.

We all know people who are mean as a rule. We know people who seem to delight in other’s pain and carry the tales of how those they know were hurt, sometimes by them. We know those who are venomous and spiteful at every turn. We know people who intentionally cut others down to make themselves feel better all their lives. It is probably OK to avoid them and dislike being around them. It is even better to acknowledge their pain when you step away.

We also know people who are generally nice people. They are good folks to have as neighbors. They try to help when they can. They help old people across the street. They hug you when you are sad. Even those people, in moments of hurt, can be mean and venomous and spiteful. When their pain is healed, they go back to being lovely people, but sometimes it takes time to recover from the aftermath. They deserve to have their pain understood too, even if it has been remedied.

I have thought about this almost non-stop over recent days. I have thought back to instances of my life where large hurts were given and received. The pain that was the source is so evident to me now. “That was a wounded person” or “Wow, I was in a lot of pain.” I can go back to those moments and have true empathy for those who were hurt and in turn perpetuated the hurt. The questions “What the fuck is your problem?” and “What the hell do you want from me?” both seem so incredibly appropriate in hindsight. What is your problem (which could have been followed by “and how can I help”)? What do you want from me (followed by “that you have not gotten from me or someone else in your life”)?

When you think of the “worst” among us, and see them as injured, just as though they had taken a bullet, it DOES change your life. It is not easy for me to think of my SIL’s killer and have a moment of compassion for him. However, we know his history of mental illness. We are not privy to whether it is likely genetic, chemical or environmental. I can step back and see that only someone whose core had been deeply damaged could commit the horrendous crimes that he did. I CAN feel sorry for someone that I see as tormented, which I believe he is. Is he still lethal, unfit for public and batshit crazy? Yes. I can find some sorrow for him in that.

I think it is somewhat harder to do for those who are not the worst among us, but for those in whom we placed trust. When their hurt spills over into our lives as hurt against us, it is jarring. It is painful. For me, it creates a since of disorientation and confusion. Is everything I believed about this person wrong? How could s/he do something so horrible to me? Was our love a lie?

As I have sat with my current pain and revisited some old ones, I have some truths that may only be true for me. First, I think it depends on the source of the hurting person’s hurt. Is it a temporary wound that will be healed that made them explode with anger? Was it the equivalent of a string of obscenities when one is physically injured? OR was it from a possibly permanent heart wound that may always lead this person to hurt others? For me, those outbursts produce hurts that are briefer and mendable. The long-term hurts seems to produce longer-term hurts.

I think back to my first marriage. Hurting people hurt people. He was so broken. I saw it then, and I was not knowledgeable enough to know what it would mean for me. He was determined to make me feel as crappy about my life as he felt about his. Knowing where he got his pain, I so hope he was able to heal it.

I truly hope that as I explore this more and understand it in my own life that I am able to stop my and other people’s pain from spreading. I am hopeful that by recognizing hurt in others when they are at their least lovable, I have a chance to save those around them, even if I cannot save them.

A few final thoughts:
1) Recognizing this does not mean that healthy people need to run around seeking out hurt people to help. “Healthy people help people” is not a commandment; it is an observation. As hurting people do in fact hurt people, you can quickly find yourself moved out of the healthy category when you surround yourself with them. “Hurting people hurt people” is kind of a warning. This does not mean that the people who are going through a painful time are going to hurt you, but they might unintentionally. It just means be cautious.

2) This does not mean that healthy people who are hurting always will take the high road. Sometimes they won’t.

3) This does not give hurting people an excuse to be fuck weasels. You know what? We all hurt at some point. What I have learned this week is that sitting with your hurt for a while is probably a much better choice than jumping up and down and screaming, either in real life or on the page. I am not a fan of bottling anger. I do believe it is like a boiling pot….you HAVE to take the lid off and let out the steam. What makes one person feel better in the moment, to let it all pour forth, is probably going to get some on innocent bystanders. Take a jog. Blast something with a good bass line and explicit lyrics. Meditate. Whatever. If your thoughts and journal are punctuated with exclamation marks, you might want to wait a little longer before you share with others.

That is where I am in this current journey. Year of Compassion, hurrah. With a new tool to help me succeed.

Haiku for you

2009-09-01T09:41:00.003-04:00

We have been studying haiku for the last few weeks. I hope Will is going to allow me share some of his. In the meantime, here are a few of mine.

My People
To my family
You bring me joy and laughter
Please put up your clothes

The woods
Bears poop in the woods
They don't use toilet paper
Please dear, watch your step

Our love
My love for you is
Unconditional if you
Remain lovable

Do you use Google Reader?

2009-08-30T21:51:00.001-04:00

Or some such tool to keep track of all those pesky blogs? You should. And when you are adding subscriptions, this one may be all you need:

People of Walmart

Hil and W...

2009-08-29T14:07:00.001-04:00

Of all the people in those pairings who could have sat next to each other...

Lunch dilemmas

2009-08-28T11:19:00.004-04:00

Whether you eat meat or not, you should be following Vegan Lunch Box. It is wonderful to see how this mom uses vegan options for fairly simple lunches.

As Meara will take her lunch one day a week at preschool, I am sure she will want some heinous lunchbox with Dora on it. Not happening. What she will have is a cool tote from the momapreneurs at Orchard House Designs. I have been emailing them, and they will soon have (or maybe have already!) some new fabrics available. I will let Meara choose which she likes best.

Will is a little harder. We are still waiting on a call from the Montessori school to make it official, but one of the families plans to move at the end of September. I already had been scouting stainless steel tiffins for our many lunches out of the house. However, I am not sure if that multiplies his geek factor too much. But it is so inspiring to see these photos. Thank heavens, Will eats anything, so filling it would not be a challenge. However, I am not sure if they have a frigilator (hee hee hee), or if I need to get something for him to carry it in with an eco-friendly ice pack.

As exciting as all this seems at the moment, I am fairly certain that by the 3rd week of making lunches, I will not be as jazzed about the whole thing.

Language development

2009-08-28T11:00:00.003-04:00

Meara has realized that "frigilator" is not the proper word for where we keep food cold. I refuse to allow the other people in the house to call it by its proper name with the hope that she will get it wrong for just a few more days. I had secretly hoped she would go to college calling it a frigilator (which I think it should have been called by its inventor). She has not called the nutrition-packed, gummi bears "bite of dem" in a long time. "Can I have a bite of dem?"

Fortunately, I know some of these will continue. When Will was about 15 months and playing Little Tykes basketball, my mom would say, "Close, but no tortilla" when he missed. He would say, "No tita." We all still call flat, bread disks "titas". Maybe frigilator will stick too.

Meara just seems so old this week. (No, it is not tempting to have another baby just because this one is growing up!) She is ending a lot of her sentences with "true! for real!" just in case you might think it is part of her fantasy play. "I love you! True! For real!"

She delights and amazes everyday. True. For real.

Indiana--land of lard and nothing to do

2009-08-14T10:50:00.005-04:00

In my previous post, I commented on all of the vehicles out East that were outfitted for adventure sports. Let me say right now that I have 0 interest in ever doing mountain biking in mountains. I would be happy to ride for distance. I would be happy to ride DOWNHILL and have fun avoiding roots and rocks and wiping out. However, riding uphill seems like a drag. Not interested.

Fortunately, I live in Indiana and inclines are not problems. I started looking at places to ride bikes that would be off road. There are some lovely trails and places that we could do that. Hopefully we will. What I really was interested in was water sports.

This is why I hate Indiana. All of our waterways have been dammed within an inch of their lives OR they are so polluted that no one would dare dip a toe in. Canoeing on a lake or reservoir is OK, but I personally enjoy flowing water. As we drove back into Indiana on Tuesday, I started looking at the streams and "rivers" that we crossed. None of them were deep enough to a boat in. All of them had maybe four rows of trees between them and a farm fields. Run-off. Yum.

The cover of today's Indianapolis Star's GO! Section featured Indiana adventures. I was so jazzed. I pointed to the paper and said, "This is what I mean." There was nothing unusual, save for one item. There is a place in Rising Sun that has a low ropes course and ziplines. Kids must be 10 and weight 60 pounds. That does not help me.

The rest was canoe trips on Sugar Creek, Marengo Cave, mountain biking in Brown Country (too steep, no thanks). You can scuba dive in a quarry. I am pretty sure the kids can't do that either.

Here is a key point. Indiana has so long neglected its natural resources that Hoosiers have to travel out of state to participate in adventure sports, hunting and fishing. Our DNR disagrees with a US Fish and Wildlife report that shows money for these activities fleeing our state. I love our state parks. I always have found them clean and enjoyable. However, they are fairly limited to wildlife watching and hiking. We do have good fishing (but dear lord, don't eat it) and hunting. Those are not my interests. Also, I would like to make the point that 2 of the 3 times that we have been to the Indiana Dunes, there was a swimming advisory for fecal material. Peee-yuke.

If you have traveled through Southern Indiana, you know that there are some great opportunities for rock climbing. What is the problem? Our DNR does not allow climbing on state land. The other sites are privately owned, and it is nearly impossible to find out who owns it to ask their permission. Climbers go to Illinois and Kentucky.

The article makes the point that Indiana is what it is: flat and without an ocean. However, we cannot ignore the fact that we have simultaneously missed opportunities to make the most of what our state has to offer while systematically destroying our waterways through adopting a business-first-nature-last attitude.

We are home from a mechanically-challenged vacay!

2009-08-12T21:58:00.006-04:00

Short version: overheating truck, steep mountains, ocean, back it up, Indiana sucks, low fuel pressure.

Long version:
We had not gone 30 miles when the truck started to overheat. Well, shit. We had over 1500 pounds of veg oil and a trailer. Maybe this is normal? Smart people would have activated the "abort mission" sign and taken it to the mechanic. We are not those people.

The truck overheated everyday of the trip. To pull heat off the engine, we ran the HEATER all the time. All day. Every day. The fact that I lost weight on this trip is probably a greater factor of dehydration than anything else. So just know that the rest of this story includes this toasty warm fact.

Day One: Got to the Erie, PA campground. We had to go incredibly slow to keep the heat down. Not like 30 MPH, but closer to 50. We tried to take comfort in the fact that every mile we went was more veg we were burning and lightening our load. We like the campground and were especially grateful for their Sunday morning pancake breakfast.

Day Two: Get up, get dressed, get on the road. The KOA where we stayed was lovely, but it was at the top of an enormous hill. The owners have a pride of ownership that I don't think we saw anywhere else. To get there, we had to keep pulling over to let the truck cool. By the time we got up there, it was dark. We pulled in, set up and the slide out would not go out. Really? Shit. We did not need it to be able sleep, so we made due.

Day Three: To Alpin Haus Camping World to get the slide out fixed. Hey, Amsterdam NY....little message to you: your town is not navigation friendly. Suck it.

Alpin Haus could not get us in for 6 hours, but they gave us great information. It allowed my Chief Engineer to dx the problem and another issue we had dealt with. Off to Conway, where he was able to work the slide out with his magic (and knowledge of all things electrical).

Oh dear god...The Green Mountains are amazing. And they are no place for a truck with temperature issues. Getting from Bennington to Brattleboro to catch the Interstate was horrible. We had to keep pulling over. The road was narrow. It was so stressful. In Lebanon, NH some very sweet man at a gas station told us the path of least resistance. He was right. The first two of the three roads were amazing. They were not too hard on the engine; they were gorgeous, and I saw a moose.

I had long thought the moose was a tourist lure. NH and Maine have a moose on every piece of kitsch they sell, but I had never seen one. They have moose crossing signs all over the place. Honestly, I was starting to think it was just a way to entice deer-weary travelers to their states. Chris had said, "If we see a moose, it will be on a road like this." I happened to see people in an oncoming car pointing to our right. And there she was. She was lovely.

The third of the three roads was a bitch. Gently rolling, but very curvy. Poorly paved in a way that made a gravel road seem like a better option. Not fun to pull a trailer in the dark. We did not get in until nearly 11:00 that night. 13 hours on the road. We got set up, and Chris collapsed.

Day Four: The Met coffeehouse, Storyland and Muddy Moose. Awesome all around.

How much do I love Conway, NH? Enough that I might want to see it in the winter. I am sure their ski runs are far above my abilities, but I can be happy on a bunny slope for days. I am not a thrill seeker by nature. Adventure, yes. Thrills, not too much. Anyway, North Conway was crowded, and I wanted it all to myself (including w/out my children). Oh well. We will go back there every few years, and we are a family who tries not to return to places.

Day Five: Off to Maine! All in all, a pleasant drive. We had asked one of the guys at the NH campground what he thought would be the easiest way. It worked wonderfully. We got in around 5. It was the first night that we had arrived somewhere where I had time to cook dinner. The other nights we gave the kids a bowl of cereal, a quick rinse as needed and put them to bed.

We were not thrilled with the campground. They had used every possible square inch, which made the sites tight, hard to back into (all they had available when I made the reservation) and they were kind of pissy. It was like they were doing me a favor simply by existing. The kids got to ride their bikes, spend time making playground friends and exploring the small stretch of ocean that bordered.

Day Six: Acadia! It was beautiful, but honestly I was a little disappointed. It was really crowded. It was hard to find parking. I felt like we could have done it in a day if there had been fewer people. As it was, we missed a few things.

We took the truck up Cadillac Mountain (no trailer, no high temps). The kids ran around on the "rock playground". We had a picnic at the top. We did a little hiking, even with Miss Pokey Pants. We came back down the mountain and used the shuttle for the rest of our day. The kid both earned their Junior Ranger Badges, which they like to earn through the NPS when they can. We came home and had dinner, and the littles wanted to swim.

It was Maine, you know. Pretty chilly. They returned with blue lips, but so happy.

Day Seven: Whale watch tour. Well not really. We had planned to do that, but 4 hours on a boat would have been too much for my people. And maybe for me. I tend to turn quite green on a boat. We opted for the Lobster and Seal Cruise. Only 1.5-2 hours. Totally worth every minute. Chris and I both took our benadryl and felt perfectly fine. They hauled up 4 traps and kept the contents in a touch tank. They have a demonstrator's license, so they catch, show and release.

Then we went out to see the seals through a storm that quickly blew over. They were beautiful, but not doing much. There was a dread of gulls, which signaled danger. Sure enough, there was a bald eagle sitting on one of the rocks. We got to handle a sea cucumber (slimy), a sea star, the lobsters, a mussel and a hermit crab. That is quite a bit of nature for two hours on a boat.

(I encourage you all to read The Secret Life of Lobsters.)

I really wanted a lobster roll after, but the dock area was crowded. We went into town a bit further and found Rupununi. Oh dear lord. Amazing food. Local and organic. Sustainable practices (compostable to-go boxes)! After we ate, I walked to the market to restock. I have Hannaford Organic Chocolate Soy Milk in my fridge right now. We took the shuttle back to the campground and chilled out for a few hours. Then, I HAD to have lobster roll before we took off. We took the kids to play putt putt golf, I got my snack and we decided how to reroute our trip.

Originally, we were going to the Quechee Gorge in Vermont. We knew we could not do that again. So we took the Southern route through Mass.

Day Eight: Driving until dinner time. Again. It is unfortunate that we did not get to spend more time at the campgrounds in the evenings. This one had a lot going on, but with another day of driving slowly, we knew it was best to feed the people and go to bed.

The problem with our site was that the only way to get to it was backwards. 250 yards. Up a curving path. The two guys who worked there guided Chris so skillfully. They had done this a lot. It was tough work for one-night's stay.

Day Nine: On the road again....to Turning Stone Casino, which has a great RV park. The Mass Turnpike was not great for the truck, but we got over the Berkshires. The RV park has convinced us to stay at casinos when we can. Easy pull-throughs. Not skimpy on the width. Loads of amenities, none of which we got to use. What we DID find in Sconondoah, NY was a great Chinese buffet. Loads of crisp veggies, a HUGE section of fruit. Everyone ate happily that night. Way better than Rice Chex.

I made an observation. All through eastern New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine and Massachusetts, almost every vehicle had a bike rack, kayak rack or some combo. Coming from Freemont, NH through eastern MA, a full 1/3 of all cars had some sort of sports equipment attached. Nearly 1/2 had a rack. You don't see that here. Indiana sucks, but I will get to that in a later post.

Day Ten: Out of the mountains and into the heat and humidity. Not good when you have to run the heater on high with a full fan. Around Buffalo, we had to stop. It was just too much. We found a Ford dealership (super shout out to Basil Ford!) who cleaned the radiator and flushed it. That still did not fix the issue, though it was better, but we had to push on to Streetsboro, OH. We arrived around 10 PM. Again, pull in, give the kids a snack and screw it, we will be home tomorrow, they can sleep dirty.

Day Eleven: Home. So close, yet so far. Because of the veg oil system, we have a computer on board that tells us our fuel pressure at every second. We had exhausted our veg, so we were on diesel and losing pressure. It was a mess. First we pull over where I-271 merges with I-71. Chris changed a valve and it came back. Then it didn't. So we pulled into a rest area and he worked on it again with a different connector. Still nothing. We found a guy who had an excavation business right off the interstate and asked him to use his lot. He was more than helpful. His brother is a diesel mechanic, and he offered to call him for us. We tried one last thing, but it still did not work.

We literally scraped the bottom of the barrels of veg oil so that we could go back and forth, as we were fine on veg. In the process, Will dropped a tube into the veg fuel tank. What a disaster.

We limped home and got here at 7:30. There was a mad dash to clean the trailer and get it ready for return. We got it there on time, and we are back in the groove of homelife.

Final note: my kids were amazing little travelers. They impressed me at every turn. When we needed quiet during stressful driving, they grabbed books or CD players or travel bingo and kept themselves occupied. Half of them were helpful during set up and tear down. The played well together and were enjoyable overall.

Scary....

2009-07-27T17:34:00.003-04:00

This makes me love my pudge. Hell, I may skip my bike ride tonight.

Why Pixar sux

2009-07-14T21:32:00.001-04:00

They make me drip snot at movies

Now is the life of our discontent

2009-07-13T13:58:00.003-04:00

You know those wonderful, late-night, whispered conversations with your spouse? The ones where you find new reasons to stay in love, gain some unknown insight and connect in ways that make you sure that you are exactly where you are meant to be? We had that last night.

We are not people who are capable of contentment. We raise our eyebrows at those who are.

It started with our discussing our relationship. We had guests from the neighborhood last night, and I said how exhausting I find that. I CAN’T talk with them the way I talk with my friends. I have to check what I say. I cannot be as direct. It wears me out, and makes me continually grateful for my tribe of women. Chris said that he could never go back to having a partner who did not process things with logic and clarity and then share them. We talked about how in some relationships topics are approached gingerly or with great sensitivity. We don’t have that here. “I get crazy when you forget to take down the recycling.” “I think you are wrong to let Meara climb the maple tree and here is why…..” etc, etc, etc

Chris said that he likes to think that other people who have strong marriages are like us. “I know we are unique, but I’ll bet that most other good marriages are very similar to ours.” I thought about that for a long time while he expanded on that. Finally he said, “I know you are thinking. Can you please do it out loud?”

I said know a lot of strong marriages that were not like ours. I know a lot of strong marriages where one or both people do not feel the need to voice every grievance or to try to make suggestions about every aspect of each other’s lives. When I relate conversations that Chris and I have, a lot of people say, “I would never say that to my spouse” or “I couldn’t tell him/her that” or “I never have been that straightforward with my partner”. My all time favorite: "I do NOT get your marriage."

I did not immediately answer what I was thinking. But what I came up with was this: those people whose relationships appear so different from ours are content. They accept things “as is” in ways that Chris and I cannot and do not. We went on to examine how in every part of lives, we are not content. Something ALWAYS can be faster, more efficient, more logical, BETTER. Last week Chris asked me if he thought that we were missing the joy in raising our kids. Last night, I was able to say “YES!” Of course we are. We are busy trying to make continuous improvement in ourselves and our kids. There is never a sense of “This is a good spot. Let’s just rest here.” What is the next spot and how do we get there in the most direct, seamless manner?

That goes for every part of lives. We are never content. Our marriage, our kids, our house, the world….it could all be better and we are obligated to make it so. Some people confuse that with being unhappy, and that is not true for us. We both are incredibly happy. Identifying problems and solving them brings us joy. I understand that people think we are grumbly, that we bitch a lot, are joyless or believe the glass-is-half-empty, but we aren’t like that. If the glass is half empty, it is simply because we have not worked out how to fill it yet. We are just working through life as we see it and working on how to make it better.

“Do you think that is why I am so different from my parents?” “Duh.” Chris’s dad is the most content person I know. You could plop him anywhere and he would be “okay”. He is never wildly happy or really upset about anything. He has not made any effort that I have ever seen to make himself or his life better. He would live in that little shack on the river and never change a thing. He is content almost all the time. Whatever is going on is just fine with him. Chris’s mom is less so, but she is far more likely to think, “Well, that’s just the way things are” than we ever would be.

I used to measure myself against moms who I see as Zen. So patient, so accepting of their children as they are, just willing to be. I hated myself for not being that mom. Framing it with the idea of contentment helps me be more accepting, but also helps me not beat myself up when I am just working to improve my kids’ understanding, behavior or knowledge. It is not so much that I am not accepting the moment as it is, but more of a case of knowing it could be better.

“How long have we been together? 10 years? I am over 40. How is it that I am just figuring this out? Way to go, babe. That makes all the sense in the world.”

FRK 2.1

2009-07-09T00:37:00.000-04:00

The bus:
Only you know your motivation for your bus stop routine, but I bet your kids do too. I think kids recognize the difference between “Mom is excited to see us” and “Mom is all freaked out about kidnappings.” I think your reasons are clear for you and your family. The reason my neighbor did bus stop duty? “Anything could happen.” Yes, they could be hit by lightning or learn dirty jokes or all manner of “anything” is possible. I had asked if the school had bus stop volunteers because I had seen her there each morning. Nope. She was on self-determined guard duty. And she did stop about half-way through the year, so good for her!

Your greeting of “Welcome home! How was your day?” with a laid back conversation up the driveway is probably a far cry from the moms who hustle their kids inside and keep them there out of fear. I acknowledge that in some neighborhoods, that actually is prudent. As someone who is looking for more opportunities to miss my kids, I think to walk them to the bus stop to talk about their day, “Science fair starts today!” or to greet them home warmly would be a memorable family ritual. But if I were doing it because I had been watching too much Nancy Grace, I would try to make myself loosen up.

Stolen cars:
Your story kind of proves my point. No kidnapping and the car was saved. Your stats are about auto theft; mine are about non-family child abduction. I am trying to find a credible citation, but it appears that accidental abductions are statistically insignificant. (I will post the links when I can verify.) I respect that is not insignificant for families who experience it, but it is not such a probability that I am willing to take everyone inside when I just need to grab bananas and peanut butter. I admit that I don’t leave them when I have to get pretzels or bread. I would be gone longer than I am comfortable to retrieve those items and get back to self-checkout. Produce is right inside the door.

Car thieves don’t want kids. They are a hassle. If the kids are apparent, they will not choose that car or probably any car nearby, as the kid are notorious tattletales. In addition, I have the luxury of having a vehicle that no one wants to steal. It is incredibly conspicuous, unwieldy (no one is getting out of a parking spot quickly) and *gasp* a diesel. Since I am not gone longer than 5 minutes from the parking lot, it would be found almost immediately. Hell, I would probably be able to hear which direction it was traveling. I am FAR less likely to leave them when we are in the attractive car for the reason that someone might actually want it.

Your anecdote actually makes me feel better. If someone, not me, started to get into the truck, I have one child who would scream his fool head off (the other would give them our home address and PIN numbers). Car thieves want quick and easy; that is not what they would get. In addition, I am not leaving them in deserted areas. I am running a quick errand at a business that has tons of patron traffic. Once the screamer started in, attention would be drawn. The glow plug delay would take longer than Will would dial 911. Would I be in trouble? Maybe. Would my kids be safe? Absolutely.

Free-range kids, part 2

2009-07-07T16:36:00.003-04:00

The cops will come on the double, and with social workers, if your kids are unattended. It freaks them out. Understandably so. Their whole lives are spent dealing with miscreants and evil doers. When such a large percentage of your human interaction involves people you would never allow around your family, it is easy to see everyone as a threat.

I dated a cop. Our whole lives were spent in some sort of Code Yellow state of awareness. My husband is a lot like that. I don’t know how to make him realize that he is not being threatened. And he wonders why he has stress. Hm.

One of the biggest reasons that people tend to react so quickly, IMO, is that we almost completely have removed children from society. When we see them free ranging, it makes us uncomfortable and suspicious. We keep them in public buildings for 8 hours a day, then we shuttle them to and from organized activities. We simply do not see children out anymore. Because of the scarcity, when we DO see them, we go on the alert. We wonder where they are “supposed” to be and who should we call to deal with it.

Sometimes, we call the cops. The same people who are most likely to see the danger and the worst in every situation. This is necessary for their jobs, but not necessary for kids who are not under their parents’ thumbs at every moment. One of my favorite FRK issues is leaving them alone in a vehicle, as this is one of the most likely to involve law enforcement.

One of the previously mentioned preschool moms bragged that she NEVER EVER left her children unattended in a car. Why not? Were the locks broken? Was it 85 degrees? When you look at the report on the previous post, you see that parking lots are pretty safe. NEVER EVER! “I don’t even leave (my nine year old).” This is not award-worthy, as you seem to think it is. And get your nose out of the air when I say that I do it.

These are the people that are around you everywhere you go, and they are watching your choices. God forbid you decide to leave a school-aged child in car. They will arrest you and in some places take your children into state care.

10 yards away

People who leave children to bake in the cars or to freeze? Clearly abusive. You should not leave a child who is not ready to know when to leave a vehicle because you have been gone “too long” (which is a matter of comfort to the child, not you) or because they are roasting/freezing. I can aver that my 7 YO would come find me if he were too cold or too hot. I would not leave my 4 YO alone because she is not ready to do that.

It seems that asking for common sense on the part of some parents and common sense on the part of law enforcement is too much in some cases. It is the parents who leave their kids in danger who get other parents and the police all worked into a frenzy, making it impossible for the rest of us to exercise reasonable judgment without fear of arrest.

So the moms who complain about kids being left in a car (in decent weather for a reasonable amount of time) also are the ones who walk the kids to the bus stop…..a half block away. And stand at the bus stop and wait for them to get off so that they can walk them home.

It may seem like I am starting a “leave your kids in the car” movement, and I am not. I am saying that it is one step of many in allowing our kids a little more freedom. I am saying that you know your kids and know how long you can leave them at what distance, based on situation, age and skill. I am saying that if another parent chooses to do that, maybe you should trust that parent to make the decision that is best for their family even if it is not best for yours. Even if you personally cannot conceive of allowing it, that does not make it a universal wrong, just wrong for you.

This also applies, but is not limited to:
• Parents who allow their children to play in the woods
• Parents who allow their children to walk to school
• Parents who allow their children to run errands for them
• Parents who allow their children to ride their bikes all over the neighborhood (please remember to use a helmet; head injuries are far more common than abduction)
• Parents who let their kids explore the library, museum, mall, amusement park, fair, carnival, park, etc without a leash

Let the kids roam free!

Next…how free-range works with homeschooling

Free-range kids

2009-07-06T11:15:00.002-04:00

YOUR KIDS HAVE A 1 IN 1.5 MILLION CHANCE OF THE BEING THE VICTIM OF ABDCUTION BY A STRANGER

So chill out. Sheesh. If you want to learn to be reasonable about these things and not sound like a twittering (old school definition), hand-wringing alarmist, please take a moment to read this report:

US DOJ Report on Non-Family Abductions

Put your ego down and stop thinking that everything that happens is all about you and that you are so special that YOUR child would be that 1 in 1.5 million. Stop allowing your neuroses to smother your kids. I fear for the generation of kids incapable of crossing the street without calling home first.

When I first heard that Lenore Skenazy had allowed her nine year-old son to take the subway ALONE in New York City, I was shocked. What kind of mother would do something so incredibly dangerous? She was using her child as a pawn to make some sort of point! String her up!

I would say that is the typical reaction of a Midwesterner. I mean, she was in NYC, not Greenfield, Indiana! You know, the city where there are roving bands of terrorists and switchblades in every pocket. As I talked to people about her choice, I noticed my arguments were shifting to support her. I heard other parents make statements that made the terrorists and switchblades scenarios sound logical. I cannot remember the source, but someone sent me a link to her blog. As I read, I realized that what I wanted were free-range kids (FRKs). I had been; why shouldn’t they?

I thought about what I was allowed to do at nine. I was allowed to ride my bike to our small “downtown” to run errands for my parents. I was allowed to stay with our neighbors’ kids after they put them to bed and returned to my parents’ house to play cards. I went to the park by myself to go to softball practice if my brother was napping. Why? Because I had done these things hundreds of times with my parents and knew how. I realized that Lenore’s son had probably ridden the subway countless times with her and knew what to do. Putting her son on the subway was in no way irresponsible (she gave him money to use a pay phone if he needed help, BTW); putting MY son, who only has ridden the subway in Montreal twice, on the NYC subway would be unthinkable. After nine years of riding with mom, her son was more than ready.

In our former preschool, one of the issues one year was moms leaving their non-students in the car while they dropped off and picked up. The school is housed in a church at a busy intersection. There are lots of people around, and anyone stealing a vehicle with a child in it would not be able to make a quick get away. Moms were continually moving in and out of the building. It was not uncommon for a parent to address an unknown person what they were doing. “Can I help you?” And yet, there were memos and quotation of policies sent to all the parents along with the whispers and judging. Guess which mom was leaving her kid in the car....me.

My situation was a little different. My son had graduated from preschool and was being homeschooled. Some of the parents were leaving infants, which I would consider irresponsible. Will was in the truck reading a book. He has a life beyond dropping off his sister. He had homework to do. He is a relatively cautious kid by nature, so even if the truck were running he was not going to jump into the driver’s seat. Of course, being my green self, I did not leave the truck running. I usually left my purse in the truck, so he would have had my cell phone too. “If someone takes off with you in the truck, call 911.” And then we would laugh.

When he was in preschool and my daughter was an infant, I did not leave her in the car, nor would I today. Infants are not meant to be free range. They are meant to be appendages. When the policy was being discussed, I expressed concern for the infants who may be left to cry for 10 minutes or more. This was not at all the reasoning behind the policy (being championed by lots of CIO mom, BTW); it was that ANYTHING could happen. When my daughter was an infant, we had six babies of similar age who had older siblings at the school. We would take turns either staying in the parking lot with the little ones or taking the big ones in. We saved a lot of naps that way. Leaving a baby unattended is unthinkable to me because they do not have the capacity not to feel a little panicky when no one responds. A six year old does not think he has been abandoned.

I wish I’d had Lenore’s book then. I would have told them “Will’s chances of dying increase 40 times the minute I get in the truck and we start moving.” That’s right; he is 40 times more likely to die in a car wreck than be abducted by a stranger. I am taking my kids swimming tomorrow (driving nonetheless!) They are 20 times more likely to drown than to be snatched. Getting there and back, putting them in the water…no one would say a thing to me. If I leave my kids for three minutes in the library parking lot while I pick up my hold, I have old women swarming the car and threatening to call the police.

Next….the police and their perception of danger…..

Indy Pride Fest this weekend!

2009-06-09T10:05:00.000-04:00

I will be marching with the UUs in the parade.

Over 24 hours alone, and what have I done?

2009-05-31T12:33:00.002-04:00

Weeded the garden, harvested strawberries, made lists for camping, shower and 15 minute nap, Indian dinner, hardware store, washed outside of all windows (poorly), long bike ride, waited for tornado that never came, read, listened to the Live INUIY show, slept, swept, breakfast, church...

Now I am getting ready to go to the groceries. The glamour never stops.

This may not be coherent. I am angry.

2009-05-28T13:10:00.002-04:00

Oh, the Prop 8 thing has me steamed. I am not gay. I am not looking to marry another chick. But I cannot escape the fact that this shit is un-American.
I am not sure where to begin; I guess I will start with what I do NOT believe.

I don’t believe the government should force churches who opposed gay marriage to recognize it. That would be a frightening over-reach of government boundaries, but to my knowledge no one has seriously proposed that. More importantly, if your church does not accept whom you love, why are you a member?

I don’t believe a government can say it is founded on equality, democracy and justice when it denies some of its citizens a basic right. I believe the right to have your relationship recognized by the government and they should not pick with whom you have a legally-recognized relationship as long as everyone is a consenting adult. The government should never dictate to a religion. (If you want to get into the polygamy thing, I will, but not right now.)

I don’t believe that a religion’s definition of what is marriage should apply to government definitions. Again, HUGE church/state issues. Establishment clause, my ass.

This TIME article says everything Chris and I have proposed for years (please note that the church in the photo is a UU Church). Civil unions or whatever you call them are recognized for ALL couples by the government. A marriage would be a religious definition of a relationship. Chris and I were married in the Garfield Park Conservatory by one of my favorite professors from grad school. Under my proposal, we are not married, though we get equal treatment under the law as people who have a ceremony in a church.

It infuriates me that we force our children to recite “with liberty and justice for all” each morning when they have no clue what that means. Even worse, it is not true. “With liberty and justice for those who meet some religious measure of who deserves equality that has been imposed on my government.” I will be marching in the Indy Pride parade this year.

Even more irksome is that it is only a matter of time until gay unions are legal. This USA Today Poll has more data that I cannot find right now, but when you break these numbers down, people under 30 have no strong feelings against gay marriage (listen to today Diane Rehm show for further breakdown.) There is this poll as well that shows that Americans are OK with civil unions.

Regardless of popular opinion, the job of our courts is to uphold the rights of American citizens. And they fucked up big time on this one.

Super smart blog that I follow

2009-05-26T11:15:00.001-04:00

Free Range Kids

Bad blogger. Sorry. Kinda.

2009-05-26T09:48:00.004-04:00

O my gosh. The talk among all my friends is travel. I am just GAH to get on a plane.

You see, there was a time when we pretty much did whatever the hell we wanted. We accepted debt as part of life. We were certainly not extravagant, but we were willing to finance "experience" though not things. (If you have seen my furniture, you get this.)

By the time Meara was born, Will had flown three times. At 18 months we flew to New Mexico where we enjoyed that state then traveled by car to Pagosa Springs, CO. The following spring, we flew to FLA. The next fall we flew to Boston and drove to New Hampshire.

Meara has never been on a plane. That doesn't mean she has not traveled. When she was a few months old, we started using grease to fuel the vehicles. She has been all over the Midwest, to Lake George, Montreal and Niagara Falls. Our decision to do most of our domestic travel with free fuel has actually freed up more cash for travel.

But the call of unknown cultures is strong. While the terrain and demographics can be so different across the US, the overall culture is the same. There are few surprises. I would love to just be dropped somewhere and see how it goes.

Justyn left for Kenya, taking 4 days in Amsterdam on the way. Anna is planning trips to Australia and possibly other foreign locales. Rachael is enamored of Central America and determined to make it happen. Eight years ago, we had just returned from Greece.

Those are not cheap trips. With domestic travel, we can get an RV, cook our own food, have crazily inexpensive lodging and never have to be in a hotel. (Hotels turn my children into demon spawn, for reasons I have yet to figure out.) We have been doing the Dave Ramsey plan. We are so close on number two. So close that it is tempting to say, "Screw it" and take out four grand and hang with Strothers in Kenya.

Responsibility....gah.

Enjoyed this gift from a friend

2009-04-13T16:47:00.001-04:00

My funny little girl

2009-03-19T20:59:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, Meara told me that she wanted to write peanuts. I got her paper and a pencil. Easy enough. For the past few weeks she has been writing pages of letters and asking me what it says. I circle the "real" words; "hit" and "hip" come up a lot, and I sound out the "fake" words for her. This writing peanuts was new. About peanuts? With peanuts? Who knows?

She came back with "Nisfor".
M: What does that say?
A: Nisfor
M: No, it don't! *stomps away angrily*

She came back and shoved a book in my lap, "It says THAT!" And it did. It said: N is for

Beneath it was a picture of nuts.

M: Now I am going to write NO
A: Do you know how to spell it or do you want help?
M: N-O is how I spell it!

"So take that, stupid Mommy" was implied with through the tone.

Tonight, Chris is putting the children to bed. Their doors are at a right angle, so he can stand facing both doorways and still see in both rooms. When he puts them to bed, he reads from the hallway. Meara really wanted a specific book tonight, read by Daddy in her bed. Chris said he would read it to both of them. "That is NOT a hallway book!"

She makes me laugh.

Dora and the world of free enterprise

2009-03-19T16:15:00.003-04:00

This blog (associated with the wonderful book) goes into the details and nuances far better than I can, so I will leave it to them:

Packaging Girlhood

Whatever you think about the Dora controversy specifically, I think we all can agree that it is irksome that some people in the world only see our beautiful, talented, unique daughters as single-minded consumers.

There oughta be a law!!

2009-03-03T17:43:00.003-05:00

I am planning my spring planting. I have the vegetable beds all laid out. No problems there. I know that I need to plant a second batch of strawberries. Super. I have plans for fruit and nut trees. Hooray.

Another area of landscaping that many people do not consider is the impact of non-native/invasive plants. Plant what is pretty, who gives a shit what happens as long as I enjoy it.

Right now, I am trying to find a good ground cover that will not need to be mowed to put around the new, yummy trees. We can just leave that area to grow and be happy. I got a seed catalog today (Burgess Seeds, you suck), and every single ground cover that I found that was pretty and did not grow higher than 5 inches was INVASIVE!

A friend has suggested wild ginger, and I will probably go with that, but it can get up to 12 inches, which I don't want.

Not everyone understands the issues of non-native/invasives. Here is the main problem. You plant a honeysuckle or Japanese barberry, and that seems fine. But their seeds are carried off where they invade again. Their invasive, rapid growth chokes out native species which are imperative to the larger ecosystem. So my Mother of Thyme, Periwinkle or Crownvetch would end up in Indiana's forests, replacing plants that native animals rely on or that serve as natural erosion controls or that reduce local biodiversity.

Almost every plant in the landscaping when we got here was invasive. Slowly, we are replacing them with more responsible plants. The barberries are going to be replaced with serviceberry bushes. The spirea will be changed out for something else. All of our trees are local, thank heavens. It would break my heart to have to get rid of one of them.

IMO, it should not be legal to sell plants that have the potential to invade the local habitat and have a negative impact.

If you are not sure if your plants are native and need options for replacing them, you can start here Invasive Species

You also can call your local Nature Conservancy for help.

I ask that you think before you plant....

Wow, this offends me

2009-01-26T13:21:00.005-05:00

I find this soooo offensive.

And let me tell you why. First, I think it diminishes the skills of the pilot who landed the plane. To remove the awe from his skills and place it with a supernatural being is insulting. Here is a man who has worked his whole life to perfect his skills, but this photo takes away any and all of the credit he deserves. It implies that in the absence of a god, the plane would have crashed and/or sunk. Secondly, in addition to Sully's mad skills, planes are going to float for a certain number of minutes if they land properly on water. It's physics.

Third, how insulting is this to people who have lost loved ones in plane crashes? God was there for this flight, but the rest of you in plane wrecks? Not worthy, not important enough, not godly enough, not deserving of divine intervention. Only THIS flight and THESE people get the god treatment. 9/11 passengers? Not worthy. Lockerbie? Not worthy. The thousands who have died on planes since 1928? Not worthy.

If you want to believe there was a divine hand, that is fine. But when you promote an image like this, try to remember the OTHER messages that are sent that may be hurtful. I am pretty sure god would want you to take that into consideration.

Day 5

2009-01-24T18:46:00.002-05:00

This was one of the most low-key days. We were four days since she had seized. Here electrolytes were good. Her phenobarb level did not move much, but she was so much more alert and communicative. The night in the recliner was a drag. Even worse was that there was just a small, public bathroom for me to use. A bath in a sink is hard to pull off, but being less than a week post-partum? Incredibly challenging.

That morning my friend Anne stopped by. Her son went to school near the hospital, which also is near a library. She so graciously took my card and a list of books and picked up some things for me to read. It was really all I could do...sit and hold Meara and read. I was so grateful to have someone do that one, simple thing for me.

The unit nurse came in and saw that I was sleeping in the recliner. She had thought that I would just go home. She immediately started calling other floors to see if someone had an empty bed and a place for me to shower. There was a spot on the peds floor, so I moved my belongings out of the lounge to a new space.

My other midwife came to see us that afternoon for a bit. She is an RN, and she checked Meara for herself. She asked if I had any regrets. Only about a hundred which I carry to this day.

You knew you could not get out of this without a crazy MIL story. Erica was off for a doctor's appt that day, so she watched Will so that Chris could bring his mom to see Meara. As soon as they got there, I went to my new room and napped. I did not want to listen to her stupid theories and advice. Chris called after about 30 minutes to tell me Meara was hungry. I came down and nursed my baby, and MIL was not *too* crazy. I had been pumping after nursing. I had been told that morning that I had more than my allotted amount of milk in the fridge and that some of it needed to go home. I pumped anyway.

I started to hook myself up, and his mom says, "You know that reminds of me something." Chris and I both said, "Don't say it." I went on to say, "If this is one of your homespun tales of life on the farm and dairy production, keep it to yourself." Of course she could not. "Well, I was just going to say that I remember the first time I saw a milking machine...." I looked at Chris. "I think the storm is coming through in an hour, she needs to leave. NOW." Chris turned to her and said, "You really don't know when to stop even when we tell you." I don't think from the time Will was born until Meara weaned a meeting went by without her comparing me to a cow in some way.

One of the craziest things about being in that section of the hospital was that I could go all day and night and never see natural light. There was a lot of construction going on, so many of the windows had plywood over them for protection. The cafeteria, the hallways....I had two solid days of not seeing the sun. People would come in and talk about the clipper that had gone through and how cold it was. Apparently a lot of snow had fallen and more was expected. It was like being in a bunker unless I made the effort to go someplace with windows.

That night around seven, Meara was asleep in the bassinet, and I was reading. The lights already had been dimmed in the other babies' areas. A man appeared in my doorway. His hair was wild. He was wearing some kind of Cosby Show-throw back sweater that was pilled. The cuffs of his pants were frayed, and his boots were scuffed. I thought, "Why is there a homeless man in here?" "Meara?" he asked. I nodded, ready to protect her.

"Are you her mother?" "Who are you?" "Oh, I am Dr. C, the pediatric neurologist." Awesome. Clearly not a doc who things too much of himself.

He ran Meara through a battery of tests and asked about the birth. He said she was ready to go home as soon as her phenobarb was at 40. "When she was on the respirator..."

"She was never on the respirator."

"But when she wasn't breathing.."

"In the car, I gave her mouth to mouth..."

"No, I mean when she was here and had trouble because of the medication, and they put her on the respirator..."

"She was only on the CPAP from Sunday until Tuesday."

He did not seem to believe me. Like I was dumb and did not know the difference. He looked through the chart some more. "Her level was 97 on Monday?"

"Yep."

The look on his face was one of absolute confusion and then incredulity. He spoke very slowly. "If I were intentionally putting an adult into a coma because they had significant brain trauma and they need to have their brain rest, I would start at 100. She should have gone into a coma. Ninety is a reasonable level for a linebacker, not a 10-pound baby. She should have shut down." He seemed to be struggling to make sense of it.

"She didn't."

"Unbelievable."

"She's awesome."

"She really is."

He filled out his report and was gone. We saw him three months later for a follow up. Her EEG was clear, and we thought we were done with pediatric neurologists forever.

I slept a little in the recliner and a little in the new room. The thing about the NICU is that you hear babies crying. A lot. Put in the peds ward, you hear children crying. It is not unusual to hear babies cry; it is what they do. To hear an older child, around nine years old I guessed, crying in pain is horrible. I did not spend much time up there.

Day Four

2009-01-21T10:26:00.000-05:00

That Wednesday was pretty laid back. During one of the middle of the night nursings, they needed to move the IV. The only spot left was her head. Most of the night nurses and I did not get along. They seemed to want to just do their job and not be bothered with having to deal with the babies’ moms. Especially me, who checked every IV, insisted on nursing and made them wait until I got there for them to do a heel stick.

The nurse who assigned to her that night looked several times for where to put the IV with me standing there, peering at her. She had one of the other nurses come into to do it. “She is great with putting them on the head,” she told me. “Good,” I said, “Because she only gets one chance.” The IV went in, no problem.

Later in the morning, after I had eaten breakfast, I went back to Meara’s room. Carmen came on shift, and we talked about how well Meara was doing. She weighed her, checked her other baby and came back. “Congratulations. Meara is double the weight or more of every baby in here.” She did look like a giant compared to all of the other babies, who were preemies. One baby had been in there for three months. Can you imagine the development of a baby who had never left a single room? Who spent most of the day staring at the ceiling? The nurses were wonderful about holding her and talking to her as much as they could. I started going over to see her, as I had spent time talking to her mom and grandmother. A few hours a day, they put on Barney or Blue’s Clues to act as stimulation for her. The most amazing thing was that her mom, who was a poor, high school drop out, was still pumping for her.

I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, Carmen told me Meara had pulled out her IV. I found Dr. Dave. “She doesn’t need it anymore,” I told him. Her phenobarb was down to 68 because the breastmilk had pumped up her metabolism. She was peeing and pooping well. Her electrolytes were nearly perfect. Her weight was up. “She does not need it, and she cries during the heel sticks now because she is alert enough to feel it,” I said. “We can put it back in if she needs it later.” He agreed

Except for the monitors, she was free! No CPAP, no IV. But having a day where EVERYTHING went right was more than I could have hoped.

Around 10 AM, the unit nurse told me that my room was needed by L&D. They had to keep so many available for walk-in’s. All the wonderful gifts I had gotten the night before, my stash of food, my clothes, my cell phone charger…I really had made myself at home in Room 15. I took a quick, probably last, shower. I packed everything and set up a little space for myself in the lounge. I was homeless.
I got one of the recliners that was in the NICU and made a little nest for myself in Meara’s room. Carmen got me a blanket and pillow. If I had been “ON” 24/7 before, now there was no escape.

I had a nice stream of visitors. Mom and Erica were both back at work, so Chris had to stay with Will. Of course, they came for bedtime stories. My aunt Phyllis came for a while in the early afternoon. We were having a terrible snowstorm. Chris had his mom come up to stay for the night. He knew if he left Will with her, I would kill him, but he said it was a nice distraction for Will to have her there. She made dinner for them…chicken, peas and corn. Will told her it was the best food he ever had. No one had the heart to tell her that he was saying things like that to anyone who was with him that week.

I spent the night with Meara on my chest. It was nice to have my baby with me again. I put her in the bassinet when I would start to drift off. The recliner was not made for co-sleeping safely. When she would stir, I would bring her back to me to nurse and snuggle. The prospect of sleeping in a recliner for the next 2-3 weeks did not appeal to me, but it was nice to have a place to where I could be with her as much as I wanted.

Day three

2009-01-19T11:16:00.000-05:00

Some thing happened day two that I forgot to mention. When I came back from lunch, the unit secretary handed me a note from my friend ‘Becca. The note said that she and the boys were praying for us. I choked up and fought down the sobs. I couldn’t even talk when I handed Chris the note. I still have it.

Day three was nothing a lot of up and down. My mom did not sleep much and spent most of the night in Meara’s room. Remember the RT that met us at the door? Later the first morning, he yelled at Chris because it was shift change and Chris was standing where he could hear the patient reports. The head nurse apologized and said he had been reprimanded. The third morning, mom was putting petroleum jelly on Meara that *the hospital provided* to keep her skin from getting too dry under the heat lamp. The same RT yelled at her for that, telling her that the PJ would screw up the monitors. We complained about him again. He was not assigned to us the rest of the week, though when he was in the unit, he tried to be nice.

The labs came back and her phenobarb was down to 83. Dr. Dave said that the 97 from the day before was so high for someone so small who was not in a coma that he had been sure it was wrong. When he saw the 83 for the following day, he said he was really surprised. But the large drop was a good sign. Her electrolytes were still off, but improving.

Besides sneaking breast milk to my baby, I also had been turning down her CPAP pressure and her O2. I figured if her saturation dropped, I would put it back. But since it had not, I moved it every few hours. The new RT, whom we loved, came to check her and said that she would be back; she needed to talk to Dr. Dave. I was sure I was busted. She returned and said she had permission to take her off the CPAP and would be back after she checked the other babies.

“But I haven’t nursed her since Saturday,” I started to tear up. “I haven’t held her. “

“I know, but there is a baby who came in ‘critical’ that I need to check first.”
I turned off the CPAP. I knew I would be in trouble for removing everything else, but I wanted to have as much done as possible when she came back. Carmen was there when they took her off. We watched her stats for about five minutes and Carmen said, “You can pick her up.”

It was amazing. It was fabulous. She got all wiggly and root-y. I cleaned the adhesive off her face and sat down to nurse her. The inability to suck is one of the primary indicators for neuro damage. If she was not going to be able to suck, that would be bad news indeed. But she latched on like she hadn’t missed a feeding.
We had been promised that the neuro would visit today to check her. My friend Jamie had offered to keep Will and have her kids play with him so that Chris could be there too. When I had talked to her on Monday, she said the Moon Mamas were considering not having circle since I could not be there. “You can’t cancel,” I told her. “Meara needs all of you together praying and singing for her. You can’t cancel.”

Not long after she finished eating, Mom went home. The neuro came around one that afternoon. He said he did not think she had hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy. He said he thought the little brain bleed had irritated her brain and caused the seizures. He said that she passed all of the tests he had given her for reflexes and such and that there were no immediate signs of damage. He confirmed that her nursing so well also was a good sign. I started asking my questions, and after about the third one, he was getting irritated. Apparently, he had wanted to deliver his lecture and get out. He handed me his card, “Do you see the name of the practice? I am the second name listed there.” (He puts the “W” in “JWM Neurology”) Like he was above having to actually answer my questions? “That’s impressive, but you haven’t answered my question.” Chris stepped up. He saw where this was going to go. “I would like to know this as well.” If Chris could get him to answer, we could avoid a scene. One of Chris’s fears anytime we are in a hospital is that there will be an incident involving security.

I spent the rest of the day holding my baby. My Aunt Carol (Kim’s mom) came and spent most the afternoon with us. She stayed with Meara so that I could get a cat nap. I knew she would come get me as soon as Meara looked like she wanted a boob.
We did an NG tube on her and supplemented with what I had been pumping. As drowsy as she was, we were afraid she was not staying awake long enough to get all that she needed. Of course her PM labs were perfect now that she was getting what she needed.

Chris brought Will to have dinner with me and read a book like he did every night. Then we had a circle with the Moon Mamas and friends from the AP board, most who had been at the mother blessing for Meara. We commandeered the Family Center lounge. My wonderful women brought food for me to eat, since I was either eating cafeteria food or taking pudding from the lounge. They brought food for Will and Chris. They brought gifts from the heart and hope into my life. It was the only time I cried with abandon, with all of my beautiful sisters around me. Meara still has her peace cranes hanging in her room.

One of the items they brought was prayer flags on the sweetest pink fabric. I hung them in Meara’s room, and everyone who saw them commented on how wonderful they were. “I have the most amazing group of friends,” I would tell them. Those are tucked into her baby book.

I was exhausted at the end of the day. It was going to be the first night that I was alone, and I was dreading it. When my friends left, I had so hoped someone would offer to stay, but they all had little people at home who needed them too. I realized that this was going to be my life for the next few weeks. I finally went to bed around one and two hours later, I heard the most amazing words over the speaker on my bed. “Mrs. F, your baby is ready to eat.”

The second day—the social worker who never returned

2009-01-17T17:53:00.000-05:00

Kim got up around 6 the second day to be with Meara while I slept. I knew that she would be Meara’s defender and come get me if needed. She knew what to check on the IVs. I had asked them to page me overnight when they reset the IV pumps so that I could check them. There had been one medical accident, and I was going to prevent any others that I could.

Around 8, I decided I need to go to the NICU. I cannot express how badly I did not want to go. If I could not hold my baby, and care for my baby and nurse my baby, it was too painful. I could not bear to think of her with all of the monitors and all of the tubes and the huge bandage on her ankle. I made myself a deal that I would stay in bed and feel sorry for myself for three more minutes and then do what I had to do.

I got dressed, brushed my teeth and went to see Meara. As soon as I was in the hallway, I began to long for her. Despite how sore I was, I came as close to a jog as I could. Suddenly it hurt more to be away from her than to see her hooked up.

The NICU director came to me the first thing after I had checked her.
He introduced himself and said that he was going to handle this very conservatively. She had not seized in over 12 hours, so they were not going to add anymore phenobarb. They were waiting for the lab results, but he wanted us to prepare to be there for 3-4 weeks. Dr. Dave is a great guy, and I appreciate the fact that he was honest with me upfront.

Erica had come for a little bit the day before and since she was off for MLK day, she was going to watch Will. As soon she got to the house, Chris came back to the hospital. Kim and Chris and I just sat and watched Meara and stared at her monitors. We took turns singing and talking to her and petting her.

Kim and I had started doing a no-no the day before, and we continued that. It was ridiculous to me that they thought she could have balanced electrolytes with IV nutrition. I said the only way that would happen was with breast milk. Because she was on the CPAP (constant positive airway pressure—breathing assistance), she could not have anything by mouth. However, I wanted her to still understand that when she felt hungry, she would want my milk. When I pumped, I kept a small amount with me in the room. When Meara would chew her first or making sucking motions, I would drip a little bit into her mouth. I also used it to keep her lips and inside of her mouth moist.

When we had planned for the homebirth, I had a hospital bag packed in case we had to transport. It had some clothes and jammies for me and a couple outfits for her plus this amazingly soft snowsuit with bunny ears on the hood. Mom had brought that the night before, but I had told Chris to get more of my maternity clothes together and bring them.

I love my husband. He is amazing. But for someone who claims to be all about details, he misses some things. He had packed two sleeveless golf shirts, two pair of capri pants and a couple other summer shirts. Snowstorms and Arctic air…Sigh.
Around 9, Chris stayed with Meara so that I could get some breakfast. I always got a breakfast sandwich so that I could eat it from the cafeteria back to the room so that I was not gone too long. When I got back, Dr. Dave had the labs. He said everyday, he would tell me the things that needed to happen for Meara to show progress. First, her phenobarb levels were really high, and she was not metabolizing it fast enough. She was at 97. That is an adult concentration. He said that she would probably stop breathing and/or go into a coma with the levels that high, so the respirator was parked outside her room. Also, her electrolytes were still off. So the plan for the day was get the phenobarb down, and get the electrolytes balanced.

The problem was that since she was not eating, she was not metabolizing the phenobarb. With the phenobarb so high, she could not be off the CPAP to eat. It was going to be a while.

About an hour later, the social worker came in. Every NICU family is assigned a social worker. Lots of questions about whether an extended stay would mean one of us could not work. Could we continue to pay our mortgage? Could we pay our utilities? Did we have other children? Did we have care for him? Did we have transportation? First, I am sure that if you are a family who has to answer “no” to any of those questions, it would be heartbreaking. To lose your job because your baby was in the hospital is unimaginable. To have no way to get your child to the therapy she needs would be crushing.

We said no, even if she was in for several weeks, we would work it all out. Then she started asking about the homebirth, as if we had chosen it because we were poor. We explained that in Indiana, a homebirth is an out-of-pocket expense and that we had actually paid quite a bit for it. Kim gave the lecture to her that she gives to her classes about how its safety statistics are far superior to hospital births. The social worker asked some of the financial questions again, as though we might be lying.

At this point, I was starting to get irritated. I wanted to say, “Google our address. Do you know where we live? We can see Geist from our house. Money is the least of our worries right now.” And thank god for that, but she was convinced we were poor.

Finally, she put her clipboard down and said, “Well, they noticed when you came in that the baby did not have a blanket.” The three of us were incensed. “Did they also tell you that I was breathing for her and monitoring her vitals all the way here? Can you explain to me how I would monitor her heart rate through a blanket? She did not need a blanket; she needed me to count beats per 20 seconds.” I grabbed the snowsuit from the bag of Meara’s things. “There is no time to put this on a baby who stops breathing and certainly no way to work on her once she is wearing it.”

Kim started in. “Really? The blanket is the problem? They have more than enough blankets and the money to buy as many as any baby would need. In fact, if you have someone comes in who does NOT have money for blankets, have them call and we will donate blankets to them.”

Chris got his turn. “Unless you have more questions, it is probably time for you to go.” She said she would come back, but she never did.

This also was the day that we met Carmen, one of our favorite nurses. There were a few nurses from the day before who had pretty much figured out that if you did ANYTHING to Meara, I had to be there. After they CPAP’ed her in my absence (Chris was there, but he did not count as far as I was concerned), it was made unbelievably clear that if there was a procedure to be done, they had to talk to me first. Carmen thought that was great. Some of the others did not.

The night nurses were a rotation of people I might see once or twice, but in the beginning, I was sleeping in my L&D room. Carmen would hang out and talk to me, tell me everything she was doing so that I never had to look over her shoulder or ask.

That afternoon, Dr. Dave said that neurology had seen the EEG but they wanted her phenobarb to drop to a maintenance level. They promised to send someone when they could.

Kim left around 2. Chris went home to get Will. Mom and Erica came. Update phone calls were made all day to people. I had asked Linda to call Regan to tell her. Mom had packed a bag so that she could stay with me that night. I had told her how badly I slept the night before and how sore I was, so she also brought me Tylenol PM. We check to see if that was OK with Meara’s meds, and they said it was fine. My milk came in, and we just waited to see what happened next. Mom spent most of the night with Meara. Her couch/bed thing was cold, and she does not sleep in strange places. I got almost 4 hours in a row, which was a miracle.

So four years ago....

2009-01-16T22:35:00.006-05:00

This was the worst day of my life, January 16, 2005. At 2:30 in the morning, Meara had what we decided was a seizure and stopped breathing. We yanked Will out of bed, I start resuscitation, and we drove in a blinding snowstorm to CHN. Great NICU for preemies; not the best in the city for emergent neonatal care. But after the weekend crew left, they were good to us. I had called Blythe to ask who to call and what to tell them.

On the way, I told Chris, "I'm losing her." Her heart rate was still good and strong, but the look in her eyes was so vacant and so soft that I knew she was not with me. As we went over the causeway I thought, "If we slide off, I don't have to go through this hell."

I had called ahead, and ran in with Meara and yelled "help" in the lobby. The RT who had taken my call in the NICU met me with a cardiac PA. RT grabbed Meara, put her on the information desk (they were having crazy construction at the time) and got her to cry. I don't know how, but it was a huge relief. He Heisman-trophy-hold ran with her down the hallway.

Meara's birth was physically hard. My midwife pretty much used her hands as pry bars to make room for M's ginormous head. I felt like I had been beaten with an aluminum bat. Plus, there was the soft tissue pain as well. I started to shuffle after the RT, at a snail's pace. The PA grabbed a wheel chair, put me in it and took me to the NICU.

Meara already was stripped, prepped for an IV, on O2 and being thoroughly examined. I showed them the bruising on her head. Gave the rundown of what had happened. I was incredibly calm, spoke clinically and was able to give very good information. The attending kept asking, "You're the mom?" She could not believe that I was not the midwife. God, if shrieking and throwing myself across Meara's body would have helped, I would have done it. As it stood, I felt my energy was best used to be rational so that they could save her.

Mom and dad came to get Will, and Chris was able to come in and be with us instead of staying in the waiting room with him.

She had an IV infiltrate on her ankle. The phenobarb put a third degree burn in the area that always will have a scar. Thanks to IN's malpractice laws, there is no way to make them fix it.

After she was stable, she went for a CT. The wheel chair had disappeared, so I was pushed in a wheeled office chair. It did not show any bleeding that was abnormal for a vaginal birth. If there had been, we would have gone straight to Riley for surgery. She had not nursed well since 9 PM. The fact that she was slightly dehydrated may have helped, they said.

So back to the NICU. A few more small seizures, but the phenobarb was working. At 6 AM I started making calls. I called my cousin Kim, who had been at the birth. I called Blythe to give an update. The cascade of tests began.

We were in an isolation unit because we had come from the outside and were 'contaminated'. We had to gown up going in and put the gowns in biohaz going out. All of my pumped milk was marked biohaz. (*that* is a great feeling, lemme tell you) The attending was convinced it was infectious since the CT was not horrible. They put her on gentamicin, which is known to cause hearing loss. Most of the day was just spent watching her.

They could not break out of the "treat her as a preemie" mold. They kept her under the heat lamp, although she could maintain her own temp. They weighed her incessantly, even though she was on IV nutrition. They had to scramble up to peds to find diapers that fit. Diapers which they also weighed to check kidney function.

That afternoon they told us that if she did not have a diaper of a certain weight, they would have to cath her. Chris and I both told her to pee pee pee. Her next diaper was twice the net weight they needed, so that was a small victory. I was dealing with my own postpartum issues when it happened, and Chris came to tell me. He also told me that her oxygen saturation dropped and she was now on a CPAP. They didn't even let me hold her for one last second.

They stuck her heel every four hours. Fortunately, she was so drugged, she never knew. Also fortunate for the LP. I told Chris he had to stay with her. I just could not watch them do a spinal tap on her. He said she only made a small whimper, but it was not too bad. As soon as the MD saw the fluid, she said it looked clear and she expected it show nothing.

When the EEG was ordered, the tech could not get signed in. JK, who had worked with us at Alverno, was working at CHN. Chris called him, and together they were able to get a password and get it done. The tech was amazing. He kept talking to her and telling her what a pretty baby she was. Kim joked that they were testing her response to flattery. He was just so kind and gentle to her.

I finally went to take a nap. Meara had her last seizure then. Mom and Dad brought Will to see me for a while, but he was so wild in the room that I just could not be with him. I wanted us all to be together so badly, and it hurt too much to see him right then. My midwife came to check my tear. She stayed and had dinner with us.

Around six, everyone but Kim left. We just looked at Meara and put Aquaphor on her since they insisted on roasting her. I wanted to nurse her so badly. I wanted to hold her. But that was not possible.

We met with the doctor for the last time at about 11 PM. I had made a list of questions. Most important for me was that she be taken off the antibiotics. She had no signs of infection; there was no evidence for this line of treatment. As I had refused to do the nasty-ass eye antibiotics, they were counting on the IV meds to take care of any germs from my dirty cooter. "Can't you just test me for gonorrhea and prove she does not need it?" Nope.

The doctor answer my questions very patiently. She was not condescending. As soon as I mentioned taking her off the meds, Kim and I both said it felt like whiplash. "I am still gravely concerned for this baby. When she came in here, I gave her a 30% chance of survival. With her improved kidney function, she is up to 40%. She is in no way ready to be removed from any medication." Brain damage was predicted, but we would not know for months or years how bad it was. It was like being knocked down with an Arctic blast.

Kim and I went to the room in L&D they had given me. We tried to sleep. I planned M's funeral over and over. The moon mamas would sing. I would quickly order a black dress that I had seen at Land's End to be overnighted. Who would be available to keep Will if everyone was at the funeral? I do not believe in using valuable sod for storing dead bodies, but I was not sure I could bring myself to have her cremated. But then I got to keep part of her with me forever. Chris would have to help decide that.

And how would I possibly live? I decided that we would not have anymore, and Will would just have to be a spoiled singleton. If I am going to suffer the loss of a child, I am taking everyone down with me. No grace here. Not even a facade.

The only other possibility at the time would be that she would have some sort of severe and intense disability. I thought about how we would retrofit the house and get a special van. I thought of all the hours I would spend driving her to and from therapy sessions of various types. I thought about how I would probably be angry about it for a very long time. And how I always would blame myself for all of it.

Church

2009-01-07T10:04:00.002-05:00

I really feel a need to go to church. I have on and off for years, but since I don't think God had any children and I am not even sure that God exists, it seems like church may not be the place for me. That said, I still feel strongly about the social justice issues of my Quaker upbringing. These are my people. And our book. No one near Indy, though.

Most Indianapolis Friends Meetings reflect the culture of the area....very Christocentric.

The closest I could get to nontheist social justice worship is a UU Church. And I loved UUI, but it seems silly to spend more time driving to and from a church than the time spent IN the church. I am not a zealot.

The only other option is Oaklandon UU, which I have yet to check out. It may be too small for me. The other piece is that if I did want to get involved, I just don't have the evenings right now. Chris has TKD on Tuesday. I have rehearsal Wed. Two out of four Thursdays are for Willowcreek, which thank god I will not be on the board after May. With a larger congregation, there is typically something you can work in. With a small one, your options are limited.

Other option is this one: North Meadow. I don't think I could get Chris to go, though I really would like to check it out. Maybe I will go alone a couple times, once to check out the RE and once to check out the adult service.

So this is where I am on the church thing. Getting out of the house is hard everyday, but somehow getting out for church seems ridiculously hard. On the other hand, if I look at it like as a social justice meeting, that may help.

Medicine at work

2009-01-02T10:08:00.002-05:00

I got to see Meara's meds work this morning. I am exhausted, but I it was interesting.

At about 5:30, her left side was very twitchy and restless. Each time I would think, "Here we go. This is it." Then it would quit. That is exactly how her medicine is supposed to work. It does not sedate the brain to the point that the misfires do not occur. Instead, it allows the misfire, but prevents it from progressing. Clearly, last night she was having misfires, but they did not run wild all over the rolandic strip and cause a full seizure.

We have slowly upped her meds since the last one. Today is the first day at full force, which always takes some adjustment. Do I dare dream for a reasonable bedtime for her?

Warning: saddest story ever

2008-12-27T21:27:00.002-05:00

I am not a huge fan of my former SIL. She was a lying asshat in their divorce. However, she is my niece's mom, and she is not a bad mom. I couldn't be married to my brother either. We enjoyed her company, and with the exception of her father, her family while she was with Corb.

One of her brothers had a baby that was born in October with cardiac and other issues. He was looking at about a surgery a year for the next 10 years. Good prognosis for survival, just not an easy road to get there.

Corb took Cece to her grandparents' house Christmas morning. XSIL is one of four, the rest being boys. Everyone was there. Baby was sleeping that afternoon, and one of the boys said he heard him. Baby's dad went to get him, and though awake, he immediately quit breathing, and they began resuscitation. From experience, I can tell you that performing this on your own child is horrible. Tragically, he died before they got to the hospital. On Christmas Day. At his grandparents' house. Christmas never can be happy for them again. They were supposed to close on a house yesterday and went ahead with it. The mom said she could not go back to their apartment ever again. I am sure she cannot be anywhere at this point.

I can't stop praying for them, knowing nothing in the world can help.

IL Christmas 2008

2008-12-26T21:44:00.003-05:00

Please remember that my ILs are not mean people. They are are not intentionally themselves, but themselves, they are.

I did not plan to go to today. I planned to listen to my Stephen Colbert CD and clean from top to bottom. I was going to do away with all holiday regalia and then have some Indian food for dinner. Do you know what I can do with 12 hours? Without pneumonia, a lot.

But Chris wanted me to go. It would have been a perfect O. Henry story if, as a display of my love, I offered to go, but as a display of his, he said I did not have to. But he wanted it, so I went. See these posts from when he promised I never had to again.

I ask you: what does a holiday meal look like to you? Does it include, I dunno, SIDE DISHES!? Do you think of someone lovingly preparing food for the people s/he cares about? Is it supposed to be a celebratory repast meant to show those you love most that they are special? If all of that is true, MIL thinks we are dog shit.

Ask me what we had for our holiday dinner today. Srsly. Ask. Two rotisserie chickens from Wal-Mart and a veggie tray! For dessert there was a plate of pre-cut pineapple, some orange wedges and grapes. Welcome to Atkins Christmas? Nope. Welcome to I am Lazy and You Are Not Worth the Effort Christmas.

My husband is one of the few people I know who rarely has expectations. He doesn't expect things to suck or to be great. He really feels neutral about these things. But I know that he expected that his mom would bake her own fucking chicken and make him some cheesy potatoes. We are all she has left. He is her ray of light....shouldn't she be over doing it? All of FIL's family is pissed at her. Her mom is mad at her....shouldn't she be kissing our collective butts? A baking dish of cheesy potatoes is the least she should be doing. A real dessert would have been nice.

So on to the gifts....not that we can lift ourselves from our chairs without some carbs...this also is fun. At Thanksgiving, she gave Chris a wad of cash. She told him to buy presents for the kids from her. She knows we are picky (no lead, no toxins, no violence, no porn), and it is just easier this way. He got some great stuff for them, wrapped it and brought it down today.

She came up a few weeks ago to give the kids some clothes, and left a present for Chris...a sweater! How original! We get down there, and she has another present for Chris, plus the presents Chris brought for the kids and then....."Oh, I am sorry. I feel bad that I did not get anything for you." As everyone else is unwrapping their gifts and I have nothing.

Later: "Do you want to go to the dress shop with me? We could take Meara and get a custom made dress? They have them with lace and crinoline and matching socks." At that moment, Meara was rolling on the floor and chasing a remote control car. I had to explain that there is NO place for her to wear such a get up. (and it is not 1966 and she is not a Kennedy grandchild)

Later: "If you had a Christmas sweater, would you wear it?" Do I look like a first grade teacher? Have you seen me? Am I a 60 year-old hospital volunteer?

Later: Stories of her life on the farm, where she was mildly abused and treated like a slave. There was a snake story, which I am pretty sure was fabricated. Then she went on to tell a story about how her grandfather would come in from working in the fields, sit down and clean the dirt, sweat and "toe jam" out from between his toes with a knife. "Some people might find these stories gross, but they are precious to us." Us? Mouse in the pocket?

Later: Since there were no "leftovers", she went to Subway for dinner. I do not like the Subway. I opted out. She came back and apologized to Chris because there was no whole wheat bread. We opened the sandwiches, and Christmas miracle! Meara has whole wheat bread! Thank you, baby Jesus. Whole grains....almost like a side dish.

I am a crafty bitch

2008-12-22T20:00:00.002-05:00

Challenge extended

Challenge accepted

Challenge accepted video

A simple seizure

2008-12-22T10:48:00.003-05:00

More accurately, a simple partial seizure, but whatever.

Last night, Meara did not sleep well. It always is hard to get her to sleep, but once she sleeps, she is down. Last night she got up, and I took her back. She got up again, I took her back and stayed with her. She talked, she flopped, she did the "I'm falling" startle move. Very unusual. After she had been still for a while, I left. She came back to our room. I told Chris that she was having a hard time, and could he please go to her bed so that I could keep an eye on her. She slept well until an hour later when the rhythmic kicking began.

Until now, Meara has had partial complex seizures. Complex because she loses awareness. Last night was simple partial, partial because it only impacts one part of the body. With the other seizures, it started in her mouth. This one was left leg only. And she talked to us through the whole thing. She tried to tell Chris that yes, mommy did give her her medicine. It lasted about 3:10, which was really long. I did not want to have to give her the ass shot of Valium while she was conscious.

When it was over, Chris knew he would not go back to sleep, so he was piddling around the house. Meara would not go back to sleep. "I'm hot. My tummy hurts. I'm thirsty. I want a cheese stick." Finally, the winner, "I have to potty." As she got up, her left leg stayed in bed. I thought her foot had gotten tangled in the sheets. Nope, her left leg was not working. She kept falling over. Even when she sat up in bed, she tipped. I did what any mom would do..."CHRIIIIIIISSSS"!

I called Dr. Patel, whom I love. While we waited for him to call back, she got up and ran around, but then would fall over. Then she would laugh, and we would laugh at her. Dr. Patel said that it was Todd's Paralysis. "My leg is not working." All said with the Meara non-plussed attitude. We are upping her dosage.

Of course, she is fine now. I am off to see what the change in seizure types means to her.

Mama Bef's Broccoli Soup

2008-12-17T21:42:00.002-05:00

OK, I have gone on and on about this soup since Friday, and today I learned how to make it. Please understand that nothing here is exact. We made three pots today in very similar fashions and they were all very different. When I got home, I added my own stuff.

1 Red pepper, roasted or not
1/2 large yellow onion
4 tbsp butter
4 tbsp flour
1 quart milk
Not chikin bouillon
Cheddar cheese to taste
Lots of love (specific to Beth's recipe)

Roast the red pepper or not. If you don't and you choose to saute it with the onion, it gives the soup a rich color.

Saute onion
When done, add flour to make a roux
When all is combined, add milk.
Add bouillon
Cook til thick.
Add broccoli and cook until soft.
Attack with hand blender
Add cheese to taste. I did about 1/2 cup of Light Mex mix from Trader Joe's.
I also added 1 tbsp of House Seasoning.

You don't need bread. You don't need crackers. This soup stands alone.

Good stuff

2008-12-03T12:53:00.000-05:00

Prop 8 the Musical

Pumpkin cookies

2008-11-23T14:15:00.000-05:00

From Taffy Carlisle and Tank Huffington:

INGREDIENTS
• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 cup unsalted butter
• 1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar
• 1 cup solid pack pumpkin puree
• 2 eggs
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 2 cups white chocolate chips
• 1 cup chopped pecans
• DIRECTIONS
1. In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, pumpkin pie spice and baking soda.
2. In a medium bowl, with an electric mixer, cream butter and sugar. Beat in pumpkin pie puree. Beat in the eggs and vanilla. Beat in the flour mixture until just combined. Stir in the white chocolate and pecans.
3. Drop dough by rounded tablespoon 2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 300 degrees F (150 degrees C) for 20-22 minutes until just set.

This pisses me off

2008-11-18T12:31:00.001-05:00

Motrin Ad

The Christian Paradox

2008-11-09T11:29:00.003-05:00

This article about American Christians is amazing. It speaks to many of the conversations that I have had with some of you, mainly that Jesus would not recognize what is seen in the US as what he had taught. Written by a Christian as a critique of the religion of fear and "the other", it is thought provoking and smart.

Easy to forget

2008-11-02T15:30:00.002-05:00

With all of the passion and excitement that surrounds this election, it is easy to forget that it was this side of 100 years ago that women did not have the rights to vote, hold property or keep custody of their children. Women were chattel.

Beautiful women friends, whether you have voted early or will be in line on the 4th, do not forget out foremothers who fought for us with bravery and tenacity. Susan B. Anthony, Lucretia Mott, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and the hundreds of women who marched in the suffrage movement are owed our debt of gratitude:

Susan B. Anthony

Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Ken Burns documentary

Taco Soup

2008-10-25T19:14:00.002-04:00

1 pound ground beef
1 package taco seasoning
1 package ranch dressing mix
1 can diced tomatoes
1 large can of tomato juice
1 can of corn, drain
1 can black beans (or beans of your choosing)

Brown ground beef and season per directions on taco seasoning package
In crockpot or in large stock pot, combine other ingredients. Add beef.
Simmer for two hours or whatever you do for soups in your slow cooker.

Top with Fritos, sour cream, and shredded cheddar.

Anna's variations: I use turkey sausage.
I use the grease from the turkey sausage to saute onions and diced chiles and red pepper flakes.
I omit ranch dressing mix.
I add taco seasoning to the pot, not the sausage. The sausage is already flavored, and the tomato sauce needs it more.

Quiche recipe for the plurkers

2008-10-15T13:02:00.002-04:00

Basics:
1/2 cup butter
1/2 c all-purpose flour
6 large eggs, beaten
1 c milk
16 oz jack cheese (I use the Sargento or Trader Joe's light Mex blend)
2 c. ricotta
1 t baking powder

Veggies:
I saute whatever veggies are in season, in 2 T butter and 2T EVOO, plus 1 TBSP of House Seasoning which is:
1 cup kosher salt
1/4 cup fresh ground black pepper
1/4 cup garlic powder

Preheat to 350. Melt butter in saucepan, add flour and cook until smooth. In large bowl, beat eggs. Add cooked mixture and remaining ingredients. Mix well. Add veggies. Blend. Pour into 9x13 greased pan. (I used two 8x8 pans and freeze one) Cook uncovered for 45 minutes.

Awesome blog about music education

2008-10-15T11:29:00.001-04:00

It contains a lot of the data about neuroscience and classical music. Check it out!

Rest In Peace, Jay

2008-10-11T15:32:00.000-04:00

Jay's Blog

I can't stand bitching without a solution

2008-10-09T15:50:00.002-04:00

I wrote this this morning, and I am sure there huge flaws in it that will come to be later. But right now, it is a start.

One thing that I wondered about the housing boom was if anyone ever added up the number of available families and compared with the number of available houses. Did the houses' cost distribution have a good match to the income distribution of possible buyers? I am going to guess not. It really seems like Business 101 of knowing who your customers are.

My suggestion, which NO ONE will take, is that anything built in the last five years in a builder-created neighborhood, worth less than $250,000 must be torn down. Wiped out. Gone. Yes, I understand what a waste of resources that is, but I have some provisions. The owners can take anything that they want with them to their next house. Take your fixtures, the flooring, the windows, appliances, the cabinets...strip it to the bone if you choose. Haul out the insulation, I don't care.

The mortgage transfers to a bank-owned house of your choice for 80% of the home's value or less, depending on your balance. If you only own $50K on your home, but you choose a bank-owned home that is $240K, you only pay the $50K. If you owe $300K on your home and you get a home that is $240K, your new mortgage is only $192,000K You take all your modern, pretty things with you and get a deal in the bargain. These numbers are based on housing prices in Central Indiana, which I know are well below the rest of the country. We always have had affordable housing.

How this benefits everyone.
1) Banks are NEVER going to get back what they have lost in this mess as it is. There are houses that will never sell. This is a chance for them to make back something.

2) In exchange for surrendering their home, the owners get a discount on principal, scoring either a reduced mortgage or a ton of instant equity.

3) We have a reduction in urban sprawl which will conserve energy, build community and generate income for the cities to build better schools, parks and community-determined programs. With the increased tax revenue for the city, the city can offer more to its inhabitants. The new urbanites will want different services and amenities than the people who are there now. They would not stand for what passes as a grocery in the central city. With the property tax revenue, you can give incentives to upscale markets to open stores there. There will be fewer empty houses in the cities AND in the suburbs.

As I said, I am sure this is flawed in many ways, but population density makes much more sense than spreading the financial ruin across the nine-county Indy area. I am trying to come up with good ideas for the land left behind by wiped out ticky tacky neighborhoods. Give me time.

The economy

2008-10-09T14:27:00.003-04:00

A woman with whom I am sure I would have been good friends had I known her when she was in Indy now lives in Mex. We have been chatting in email, and she is worried that our economic crisis is just the beginning of our lives' becoming much worse. She wonders if she should be home with her countrywomen raising the alarm and being in the middle of all of it.

I figured my response would become a blog post, so why not just put it all in one place?

Being here to raise a voice of dissent? We would love to have you back! I am not sure what I think it would accomplish though. Many people have called their representatives, the White House, Sec. Paulson and said "no" to the bailout. We don't want it. We think there are better ways to use the money to save the economy. We have said, "no". No one in this administration listens to the American people. They treat us like we are ignorant, small-minded and cannot understand the underpinnings of basic economic theory. I hate them. Raising a voice would only be brushed aside.

Do I think it will get worse? Absolutely. When people are being evicted not because they are late on their payments but because their landlords have defaulted? That is a fucked up mess. I enjoy a little "I told you so". Three years ago, when vinyl villages were springing up all over our little town, I said, "They will have to stop this. Indy does not have the population to support this." One of the larger neighborhoods stopped construction a few months ago, another neighborhood did not even start and another has low occupancy. This is just down one little road in one little town.

Yes, it is scary here. I am keeping track of every nickel and dime. I did not fill up the truck the other day because I wanted to make sure that we had a little cash tucked away. It does feel like things are going to get much worse before they get better.

Now, after all the gloom and doom, this is what I believe will happen. I think that like every growth whether it is personal, physical or economic, there is going to be some pain. It is going to hurt. It may take a really long time to get to a place where things are better. We have 8 years of unrepentant deregulation and government-endorsed greed that we have to undo and recover from. If you were being abused for 8 years, there would be no quick fix. Our financial system has been abused and has to recover. Consider this our first night in the shelter. Someday, we will have stability again. A lot of people, corporations and ideas are going to suffer to get there.

I think I have figured it out

2008-10-08T08:56:00.002-04:00

The reason that I don't like the McPalin ticket with the passion that I do. They are not nice people. Not once last night did I think Obama felt revulsion for McCain. He got frustrated; he got annoyed; he sharply disagreed with his proposals. McCain seemed to not like the fact that Obama was alive. Honestly, the disdain was so obvious when he talked about that, and especially when he referred to a US Senator as "that one". It is the superior attitude of McPalin that irks me.

I am going to be honest

2008-10-07T18:38:00.002-04:00

And it will probably get me blasted.

One of the podcasts I listen to is QCast Connection. Several weeks ago, Mr. B said that he did not think he could be friends with people who voted McPalin. That seemed harsh to me. To lose a friendship over politics? Kind of extreme.

As this campaign (which is too damn long in the US) has progressed, I have to say that I agree. I simply cannot find any reason to support the GOP ticket. In addition to simply disagreeing with their platform, which I can at least respect, the two on the ticket seem to be horrible people. I think they are liars. I think they are smug. I think that they care only about their own issues and would send everyone else up the river. (I totally get that there is some GOP mom blogging the same thing about our side right now, BTW). I think as people, McCain and Palin are selfish. I think their characters are pathetic (factual character, not the pundit crap). I don't think they are good people.

This brings me back to a life-long issue that I have had....can I be friends with people I do not respect? Can I have fun with them and enjoy their company even though in my heart I think they are morons? I have had opportunities for that recently, and I thought I was having some period of growth. "Look how tolerant I am! I am spending time with people with whom I fundamentally disagree about nearly everything. I am learning to accept people for who they are. I am a fucking saint."

The other side of that coin always has been that life is too short to waste it with people who do not fortify your life. Crazy-makers need to be kicked to the curb when possible. There is no need to fill your time with people you don't respect.

I don't think I can respect someone who supports a McPalin ticket. I think the kind of person who believes that those people are best for all of us are not the kind of people I want to have in my life. Obviously, I will still speak to my stoopid relatives and such. We have a neighbor who is batshit crazy, but is still a very good friend to us. However, those fringe people with whom I am only spending time, but not investing time, I don't think those ties will survive this election.

I LOVE IT

2008-10-06T18:48:00.001-04:00

Obama Shirt

Rules for tonight's debate

2008-09-26T18:20:00.003-04:00

If you don't follow Wonkette, you are dead to me anyway. If DO follow it, you already have seen this: Play at Home Debate Rules

we are not talking about it

2008-09-23T08:46:00.001-04:00

I loved the hype and the drama of the announcement. But it has been over a month. Her 15 minutes are up. If we ignore her, she will go away. Let these good folks take over: The Truth

Will's therapy session

2008-09-17T23:12:00.002-04:00

As you would expect, all blame is heaped on the mother!

She said that Will's lack of self control is within the range of normal for a 6 YO boy.

He was hilarious. She asked if he knew what counseling was, and he said it was to have someone help you with your problems or to talk about what bothers you. He went on to share that he had ordered from LEGO.com on Tuesday, and the package was not here yet and that really concerned him.

We gave example after example after example of things he does that make us think he needs help. All normal. A little high on the intensity scale, but OK on the frequency scale. All manageable.

I told her that I was out of things from my toolbox to help him learn to help himself. She really treated Chris and I a little bit like we were nuts for being there. We explained that we just wanted to nip any tendencies we saw toward not having self control.

She asked what we would count as success, and I said to have him stand in line at soccer practice and not flop around like a fish. To not insert himself as the center of the world at every moment. To recognize that he will not always be first, best or number one AND to accept that with a little grace and no fit throwing. I want him to be able to experience an emotion and not have it control him to the point of it's being all there is in the world.

So, Chris and I go back to get some more tools for our box, and she said she did not need to see Will. Will was disappointed.....he really wanted to have her undivided attention for an hour!

Thank you Randomnicole

2008-09-17T23:12:00.001-04:00

Religious/Anti-Religious cartoon

Do this; you know you wanna

2008-09-15T17:43:00.000-04:00

What is your Palin name?

I fear mom is right

2008-09-12T17:39:00.000-04:00

The polls are FREAKING ME OUT! I cannot understand why, anywhere, John McCain would be leading. 2000 John McCain maybe, but not 2008 Dumb Ass John McCain.

My mom said something that is too horrible to be true, but it probably is:
Some people will vote for anything other than a black man.

God, that pisses me off.

Palin's record

2008-09-11T18:30:00.001-04:00

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/politics/2008/09/11/kaye.palin.honest.cnn