Well, my sister found out yesterday that their baby will not be born on this earth. Apparently it stopped developing around 9 weeks. She was 13 weeks on Saturday, and none of us expected this after seeing a heartbeat at 7 weeks.
Prayers for her and her family are appreciated.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
A Month to Feel Stupid
Maybe I will reveal one of the most major gliches in my personality by writing this, but if you know me at all you already know my biggest fault, and I hope you still like me despite of it...
I'm an information junky, and knowledge freak, and I like to know it all. And if I'm wrong, I want to be SURE I'm wrong. So with that in mind, here is my devasting Friday story, and maybe more.
Two weeks ago I had a bad cold. Chills, body aches, nausea, and a bad headache. And a sore throat. By day 4 I thought, "Gee, if this aweful sore throat would just go away, I'd feel better..." Then it dawned on me that maybe I have strep throat, and so I looked in the mirror with a flashlight, and sure enough there were white patches on my tonsils. (I thought strep was the only thing that showed up like that.) Later I would read that my symptoms matched strep perfectly (headache, nausea, bodyaches and chills....)
I had been contemplating bringing Rugger in to the doctor anyway since he had discharge coming out of his eyes, and I was worried that he had a sinus infection. So now my decision was made; we'd go in.
The doctor looked at my throat and Rugger's ears, and wrote us both up for Amoxicillin (no throat swab.) We took them, and added Pumpkin later since she got pink eye and was stuck up in the sinuses, and we all dutifully finished them.
Fast forward to Sunday when I was done with the antibiotics. Two days later I woke up with a headache and a slight sore throat. "Not again..." I thought. I looked in the mirror, and on my tonsils were the same patches, but only red. We had a NORMAL doctor's appointment the next day, on Wednesday, and I'd ask the doctor about it then. Maybe the spots stay there long after you have strep?
So I ask him in the course of things, and he says, "Yeah, your throat looks real bad, but I think you're fine. You finished the antibiotics, don't worry about it."
So I didn't. Until Thursday night when my throat REALLY hurt and the patches were now WHITE again. And to top it off, Rugger threw up once in the middle of the night. (He had thrown up on Sunday evening, we thought it was a bug.)
Well, here's where my stupidity comes in, apparently. I knew from researching the strep the first time around, that in kids that are preschool age, the symptoms are quite different from adults. Often times they don't get the sore throat. Vomiting is a sign in little ones. And they might have what's called a Strawberry Tongue. From pictures, I thought Pumpkin had this the first time around, and now both kids looked like they had a faded version again. (Not bright red, but definately different than what their tongue looked like two days ago. Trust me. No one else will....)
So I call the office and request the earliest appointment since today (Saturday) we'll have a birthday party, and if we are on antibiotics, I want to make sure we put as much time in before people come to the house. So I get a 9:45 appointment, which I'm late for due to a last minute diaper change and my ability to always be late everywhere. At least I called and said we were running late.
So we get there, he examines us (the same doctor as on Wednesday, but different from the one that diagnosed the strep the first time.) I ask all my strep-related questions during the exam so I don't take up his time later. He says he's pretty sure it's just viral, but we'll wait for the swabs to come back (which I requested since I didn't want to be treating something that wasn't there, and he stated the same thing. I purposely liked this doctor because he won't prescribe antibiotics when not needed, though he confused me by saying is only ONE of us is positive, he'll treat the whole family, and he suggested Pumpkin get her vaccines NOW vs. any other time in the 4-6 year period....but anyway.)
So he says if it's positive, he'll be back to talk to us. If not, have a good day. (why we can't talk to him if it's negative, I don't understand....) So we wait, and sure enough it comes back NEGATIVE for all three of us.
I will be truthful. I was floored. I had added up all the symptoms, people at chruch who we run close circles with were also diagnosed with strep after I was, they all agreed this stuff cycles sometimes. The internet was full of recurring strep stories. I just hadn't expected to be relieved of the burden of antibiotics, which I was so dreading.
So I asked the nurse what we do, and if a throat culture would show anything different. (also keeping in mind that I've read that 5-10% of those tests are false negative.) He exact words were, "Well, he said that since the antibiotics are still in your system, it's going to be negative. Basically you're not contagious. You can go home."
To me, this sounded like "Even if you DO have the strep bacteria, the antibiotics will mask the results, but you can't pass it around, so don't worry." Which means to me that if we still have it, there would still need to be SOMETHING done to get rid of it. So I asked her if I could talk to the doctor again when he's done with his other patient.
So he comes in and says, "What do you want to hear?" I start to say something when he cuts me off and curtly says, "It's a virus. You don't have anything. Go home." I start to say, "But I just...." He cuts in with, "If you want another opinion, go to a different doctor." I say, "No, I DON'T want another opinion, I trust you, I just want to know..." "Listen, I'm getting frustrated, we're running out of time." "Well if you give me a chance I'll ask my question. The way the nurse stated it, made it sound like the anitbiotics are potentially masking..." "No. We would have seen it." "And the symptoms?" "They're nothing. I didn't want to be rude before, but they don't even have strawberry tongues, it's nothing." "And the white patches?" "Tons of stuff. Any virus." He opens the door. I ask "So what do you think it could be?" "Anything."
And he's gone. And I'm about two inches tall and hiding in the corner. I want to cry. I don't want to walk out of there with my happy kids who have no clue how humiliated I feel. I apologive to the receptionist so that when I show my face there again at least she knows I wasn't TRYING to be THAT KIND of patient.
I don't know what set him off. Maybe when I walked in and said, "I was right!" in a joking voice, because I HAD gotten sicker. Maybe it was me talking about strep the whole time instead of waiting for the positive result. I don't know.
But I think that even if I ticked him off (unintentionaly. I had NO clue where he came from being so angry) that he still reacted unprofessionaly. I mean, who's paying who, here? Why is it that I can't ask questions about a virus, that though I know it can't be treated doesn't mean I don't have questions.
Why is it that I can't make sure, ABSOLUTELY sure, that we don't have strep? Part of me was angry that there was never a first swab before I took the round of antibiotics, and I'll never now know if I had had it at all.
But mostly, I was embarassed, shocked, angry. So I was wrong. Don't I still have a right to make SURE I'm wrong? Aren't I still a person who lost sleep with worry, with a sore throat, with a child who threw up once out of nowhere? Don't I deserved at least a caring tone explaining WHY I am wrong vs. a "It's nothing I can help, go home" attitude?
When did doctors stop caring and stop trying to HELP? Why did he think I was attacking HIM? If I wanted meds, I'd have asked for them despite the outcome. I don't do that. I was caught off guard, so I wanted to make sure what I was hearing, that's all.
In fact, I was wrong earlier this week. I took Boomer to the vet for what I was sure was an ear infection (due to his stratching of the ears and shaking his head) and it was nothing. But the vet prescribed antibiotics anyway, and I paid for the unnecessary visit and unneeded meds. I took them home, put them on the counter, and thought, "For next time."
I don't want meds. I want answers. If you don't have answers, I understand. But at least be decent enough to explain it to me.
I'm afraid to talk to my friends, the ones I called frantically Friday morning to warn them we had strep again. I'm wondering what they'll think when they hear I'm an idiot who had no idea what I was talking about.
I hope they understand. I hope we're close enough of friends that they won't think less of me. I feel like I can't even tell eveyone for the shame that crawls to my face when I replay the scene in my mind. I felt SO BELITTLED.
And so, I hope that is all for this month. I don't like feeling stupid. I'm anal. I know that. I serve my kids cereal in certain colored bowls, with certain spoons. And if I have dirtied one and it's not available, it bothers me. I go on, but that's who I am. I like straight lines and facts. I like geometry and proofs. And when I'm wrong, I like to be sure.
And in nothing else, my faith in the medical community that was barely there before has now been completely shattered. I dream of the day when we as people can be informed about our bodies and the doctors respect us for it, and they admit their own limitations and treat us like friends or family. When the same scenario ended with this instead of the way it did:
"You know, you're right that a lot of these symptoms appear with strep. I wish they had taken a swab the first time because maybe you didn't have it then, either, we'll never know. But see how their tongues are? It would be darker and more swollen if it were Strawberry Tongue. And the patches on your throat are more common than people realize. It's called "tonsilitus" and it happens whenever they are inflamed and the sores show up. The rapid test is pretty accurate, but if you want, we'll get a culture, and that will also confirm that you have nothing else bacterial in nature. Otherwise, I think you probably have a couple different viruses going around, and if you think you have strep again, feel free to come in, but for now I'd say just drink plenty of fluids and rest. Hope your birthday party goes well!"
I'm an information junky, and knowledge freak, and I like to know it all. And if I'm wrong, I want to be SURE I'm wrong. So with that in mind, here is my devasting Friday story, and maybe more.
Two weeks ago I had a bad cold. Chills, body aches, nausea, and a bad headache. And a sore throat. By day 4 I thought, "Gee, if this aweful sore throat would just go away, I'd feel better..." Then it dawned on me that maybe I have strep throat, and so I looked in the mirror with a flashlight, and sure enough there were white patches on my tonsils. (I thought strep was the only thing that showed up like that.) Later I would read that my symptoms matched strep perfectly (headache, nausea, bodyaches and chills....)
I had been contemplating bringing Rugger in to the doctor anyway since he had discharge coming out of his eyes, and I was worried that he had a sinus infection. So now my decision was made; we'd go in.
The doctor looked at my throat and Rugger's ears, and wrote us both up for Amoxicillin (no throat swab.) We took them, and added Pumpkin later since she got pink eye and was stuck up in the sinuses, and we all dutifully finished them.
Fast forward to Sunday when I was done with the antibiotics. Two days later I woke up with a headache and a slight sore throat. "Not again..." I thought. I looked in the mirror, and on my tonsils were the same patches, but only red. We had a NORMAL doctor's appointment the next day, on Wednesday, and I'd ask the doctor about it then. Maybe the spots stay there long after you have strep?
So I ask him in the course of things, and he says, "Yeah, your throat looks real bad, but I think you're fine. You finished the antibiotics, don't worry about it."
So I didn't. Until Thursday night when my throat REALLY hurt and the patches were now WHITE again. And to top it off, Rugger threw up once in the middle of the night. (He had thrown up on Sunday evening, we thought it was a bug.)
Well, here's where my stupidity comes in, apparently. I knew from researching the strep the first time around, that in kids that are preschool age, the symptoms are quite different from adults. Often times they don't get the sore throat. Vomiting is a sign in little ones. And they might have what's called a Strawberry Tongue. From pictures, I thought Pumpkin had this the first time around, and now both kids looked like they had a faded version again. (Not bright red, but definately different than what their tongue looked like two days ago. Trust me. No one else will....)
So I call the office and request the earliest appointment since today (Saturday) we'll have a birthday party, and if we are on antibiotics, I want to make sure we put as much time in before people come to the house. So I get a 9:45 appointment, which I'm late for due to a last minute diaper change and my ability to always be late everywhere. At least I called and said we were running late.
So we get there, he examines us (the same doctor as on Wednesday, but different from the one that diagnosed the strep the first time.) I ask all my strep-related questions during the exam so I don't take up his time later. He says he's pretty sure it's just viral, but we'll wait for the swabs to come back (which I requested since I didn't want to be treating something that wasn't there, and he stated the same thing. I purposely liked this doctor because he won't prescribe antibiotics when not needed, though he confused me by saying is only ONE of us is positive, he'll treat the whole family, and he suggested Pumpkin get her vaccines NOW vs. any other time in the 4-6 year period....but anyway.)
So he says if it's positive, he'll be back to talk to us. If not, have a good day. (why we can't talk to him if it's negative, I don't understand....) So we wait, and sure enough it comes back NEGATIVE for all three of us.
I will be truthful. I was floored. I had added up all the symptoms, people at chruch who we run close circles with were also diagnosed with strep after I was, they all agreed this stuff cycles sometimes. The internet was full of recurring strep stories. I just hadn't expected to be relieved of the burden of antibiotics, which I was so dreading.
So I asked the nurse what we do, and if a throat culture would show anything different. (also keeping in mind that I've read that 5-10% of those tests are false negative.) He exact words were, "Well, he said that since the antibiotics are still in your system, it's going to be negative. Basically you're not contagious. You can go home."
To me, this sounded like "Even if you DO have the strep bacteria, the antibiotics will mask the results, but you can't pass it around, so don't worry." Which means to me that if we still have it, there would still need to be SOMETHING done to get rid of it. So I asked her if I could talk to the doctor again when he's done with his other patient.
So he comes in and says, "What do you want to hear?" I start to say something when he cuts me off and curtly says, "It's a virus. You don't have anything. Go home." I start to say, "But I just...." He cuts in with, "If you want another opinion, go to a different doctor." I say, "No, I DON'T want another opinion, I trust you, I just want to know..." "Listen, I'm getting frustrated, we're running out of time." "Well if you give me a chance I'll ask my question. The way the nurse stated it, made it sound like the anitbiotics are potentially masking..." "No. We would have seen it." "And the symptoms?" "They're nothing. I didn't want to be rude before, but they don't even have strawberry tongues, it's nothing." "And the white patches?" "Tons of stuff. Any virus." He opens the door. I ask "So what do you think it could be?" "Anything."
And he's gone. And I'm about two inches tall and hiding in the corner. I want to cry. I don't want to walk out of there with my happy kids who have no clue how humiliated I feel. I apologive to the receptionist so that when I show my face there again at least she knows I wasn't TRYING to be THAT KIND of patient.
I don't know what set him off. Maybe when I walked in and said, "I was right!" in a joking voice, because I HAD gotten sicker. Maybe it was me talking about strep the whole time instead of waiting for the positive result. I don't know.
But I think that even if I ticked him off (unintentionaly. I had NO clue where he came from being so angry) that he still reacted unprofessionaly. I mean, who's paying who, here? Why is it that I can't ask questions about a virus, that though I know it can't be treated doesn't mean I don't have questions.
Why is it that I can't make sure, ABSOLUTELY sure, that we don't have strep? Part of me was angry that there was never a first swab before I took the round of antibiotics, and I'll never now know if I had had it at all.
But mostly, I was embarassed, shocked, angry. So I was wrong. Don't I still have a right to make SURE I'm wrong? Aren't I still a person who lost sleep with worry, with a sore throat, with a child who threw up once out of nowhere? Don't I deserved at least a caring tone explaining WHY I am wrong vs. a "It's nothing I can help, go home" attitude?
When did doctors stop caring and stop trying to HELP? Why did he think I was attacking HIM? If I wanted meds, I'd have asked for them despite the outcome. I don't do that. I was caught off guard, so I wanted to make sure what I was hearing, that's all.
In fact, I was wrong earlier this week. I took Boomer to the vet for what I was sure was an ear infection (due to his stratching of the ears and shaking his head) and it was nothing. But the vet prescribed antibiotics anyway, and I paid for the unnecessary visit and unneeded meds. I took them home, put them on the counter, and thought, "For next time."
I don't want meds. I want answers. If you don't have answers, I understand. But at least be decent enough to explain it to me.
I'm afraid to talk to my friends, the ones I called frantically Friday morning to warn them we had strep again. I'm wondering what they'll think when they hear I'm an idiot who had no idea what I was talking about.
I hope they understand. I hope we're close enough of friends that they won't think less of me. I feel like I can't even tell eveyone for the shame that crawls to my face when I replay the scene in my mind. I felt SO BELITTLED.
And so, I hope that is all for this month. I don't like feeling stupid. I'm anal. I know that. I serve my kids cereal in certain colored bowls, with certain spoons. And if I have dirtied one and it's not available, it bothers me. I go on, but that's who I am. I like straight lines and facts. I like geometry and proofs. And when I'm wrong, I like to be sure.
And in nothing else, my faith in the medical community that was barely there before has now been completely shattered. I dream of the day when we as people can be informed about our bodies and the doctors respect us for it, and they admit their own limitations and treat us like friends or family. When the same scenario ended with this instead of the way it did:
"You know, you're right that a lot of these symptoms appear with strep. I wish they had taken a swab the first time because maybe you didn't have it then, either, we'll never know. But see how their tongues are? It would be darker and more swollen if it were Strawberry Tongue. And the patches on your throat are more common than people realize. It's called "tonsilitus" and it happens whenever they are inflamed and the sores show up. The rapid test is pretty accurate, but if you want, we'll get a culture, and that will also confirm that you have nothing else bacterial in nature. Otherwise, I think you probably have a couple different viruses going around, and if you think you have strep again, feel free to come in, but for now I'd say just drink plenty of fluids and rest. Hope your birthday party goes well!"
Saturday, October 21, 2006
I don't even know what to say...
Last night was the annual "Backyard Brawl," the football game between two close schools and a heated rivalry. But that's not even the point. There was so much more there last night that I don't even know where to begin. And I just wish everyone else knew it, too.
I thought about addressing the fans. Because I know many of you don't get it. You don't see what really goes on, you don't understand the finer details that oil the team. But maybe you'd understand something else.
You know how you yell at the players and scream at the coach? I wonder if you'd really like to get a chance to be him, as you so often claim you'd do a better job of being. Would you like your job performance to be public record, judged by your neighbors, strangers, teenagers, and the community at large? Would you like your weekly goals to be weighed in the morning newspaper, announced for all to see that you either met them, or sadly fell short (again.) How would you like to go on a walk in your town, or step into the library, convenience store, or church, knowing that people will either pat you on the back for a job well done, or else give you a look of pity, or worse, tell you what you should have done instead. Would you be able to handle the pressure of knowing that behind your back, while you are making last-minute decisions, there are hundreds of people who think they know better, and if your decision makes a great play, you are a genius, but if it doesn't, you're the idiot. If you truly think you can do all this, then by all means please come to us for a job. We need good coaches and volunteers, and we'd love to have someone as knowledgeable as you on board.
I'm also thinking about the seniors. Last night was senior night. But 5 of those seniors were either sidelined for good, or playing hurt. Tight End and Linebacker - broken jaw. Offensive and Defensive Lineman - torn ACL. Running Back and Linebacker - staph infection in his heart. Quarterback and Defensive Back - turn knee, which he's played on as best he can until the doctors have finally said no more. Running Back and Defensive Back - twisted ankle that brings him out of the game after every play, but he keeps going back in.
Five seniors. Two captains, enormous talent. Enough that this was to be their year. Our year. Eisenhower's year. Instead, three of them are wondering why they had to face a players worst nightmare: not realizing a certain game or play will be your last. They might play college ball, if they can recover. But I'm sure they look for the recruiters or scouts who should have been watching THEM. Two of them are still trying to play, knowing they could be hurt worse, but knowing for them it's worse not to try. They wanted it that bad, they really did. Instead, they all have to watch helplessly while their younger teammates fight for them.
And I have to go into those younger teammates, because I think this is where most people misunderstand. We have still won five games this year. Two of the games we lost were so close that one less mistake would have made the win. And for any team, that's not bad. But for a team that is now composed of mostly freshman and sophomores, I think that's a heck of a good job.
You see, you may have watched our boys get plowed last night. We made mistakes, we got pushed around. It might have looked like we were 15 yr. old boys playing 18 yr. old men. And we were. You can only gain experience by time. You can only gain the reflexes you need by making the mistakes so you know what to look for. And you can only push as hard as your immature not-quite-developed bodies allow you to. And we did.
Those boys AREN'T seniors. They aren't even juniors, many of them. But they fought hard, all of them. And even though so many hearts were broken this year, there is a team out there that is preparing for next year, and the year after. A team that has now faced more adversity than most face in several years. A team that is playing crippled and has not given up in the fourth quarter for the first time in several years. A team that is learning, play by play, what it means to be a champion.
And I know you wanted it to be THIS year. I know some of you will only see our final record, which will most likely be 5-5. And you will think we haven't improved. But then you must be blind. To be able to win 5 games, most against teams with a better record than ours, with 5 of our seniors either out completely or playing hurt, is a WHOLE lot better than winning 5 games with all your starters in full health.
And then I want to address the Job thing. Not job as in a career, but Job as in the guy in the Bible. Because I feel that's what Boom must feel like this year. Game after game we watched as player after player was hurt. And some not even on the field. And last night was no exception. In fact, it was every mother's nightmare, and player's, too, I'm sure. And to top it off, because of politics I won't go into, there was no ambulance at the game and those 3-5 minutes must have been pure agony for our Wide Receiver and Defensive Back who has made some important plays.
After making a play last night, his foot caught on the field, the field we were playing on because our own was deemed to dangerous with all the mud, and somehow (I'd have to ask if it was a tackle or what) his lower leg got snapped in two and was left dangling at a very wrong angle. Luckily I didn't see it since I don't do good with that kind of thing. But Boom was there holding his hand until they put him on the stretcher. The boy didn't make any sound at all, but squeezed his hand so hard Boom knew he in was in a lot of pain, to say the least. He'll be operated on this morning, and Boom said with that type of injury, he may not be back next year, his senior year. I hope for the players sake, and ours, that will not be the case. But either way, it seems unfair.
And all the while, and I have to ask, Why us? Why this many? Why this year, when things were looking so good?
And lastly, I want to address my husband, the coach. Many people don't understand football. They see it as a barbaric sport with brutal hitting and macho boys trying to prove themselves.
They would be wrong. It's so much more than that for most of them. For those who DO see it as just a game, they are the ones who don't try as hard, who don't put their heart on the line. But for most, football is where they learn who they are. Where they build confidence in themselves. Where they are accepted despite their weight or their looks. For some, it's the only place they feel like a family, or the only time they'll hear the words, "Good job. I'm proud of you."
To those who give me frowns when I explain that my husband couldn't watch the kids because of football, you have no idea what those boys mean to him, and how seriously he takes his job. You aren't there when he's spending hours breaking down film, grading plays, scouting other teams. You weren't there when he spent all night re-writing his playbook for a crippled team. You aren't there when the parents criticize, the fans boo, and reporters misprint quotes. And most importantly, you aren't there on the field when your leg is broken in the worst way, and your coach, your HEAD coach, cares enough to hold your hand and wait with you, cry for you, pray for you. You weren't there after the game when the coach broke down not because HE wanted the win, but because he knew how hard his boys fought, and he felt bad for them.
And last night. Last night his heart was broken. He came home and felt hopeless for the first time this season. This season of injuries and unfairness. He didn't cry. He didn't get mad. He was just defeated. And for the first time in the three years he's been head coach, I sit here crying for him. Because what can you say when the coach is down? Who's there to hold HIS hand? I wish I could do more than hug him. Wish I had words that actually fixed something instead of just soothed over the pain.
And I opened the paper this morning carefully, because I didn't want to read it this time. I wish I could avoid what I know is coming when we see people at church or out and about. Because try as they might, they won't understand. Not completely.
There are a few who understand. At least I hope so. Because it was their boy out there whose hand Boom held. It was their boy in the hospital whom he visited. It was their boy out there who he congratulated, or else comforted. I have heard them say good things about him. And I think, that even if they disagree with his calls sometimes, or if they think their kid should be out there instead of whoever is, I think that they still see his heart. Because that's what makes him a good coach.
It's not the plays, it's not getting to the playoff, it's not winning games. It's caring for the kids, genuinely caring. THAT'S what makes the difference between a good coach and most coaches. And I hope he knows that. I hope that as his heart heals, because eventually it must, he realizes that it doesn't matter what the others think. Those who have come close enough to him to see who he is, they will know. And the others, well, let them talk.
But I know. I know who you are, Boom. I know that you care. And to top it off, I think you ARE a good coach when it comes to playmaking. And you've learned, too. I have never been prouder of you than I have been this year. And though I would have loved to travel to the playoffs with you, I'm just as proud to have you hold you team together long enough to finish the season so no one else gets hurt. I don't know why you were dealt this card, but I admire the way you took it.
And I hope that counts for something.
I thought about addressing the fans. Because I know many of you don't get it. You don't see what really goes on, you don't understand the finer details that oil the team. But maybe you'd understand something else.
You know how you yell at the players and scream at the coach? I wonder if you'd really like to get a chance to be him, as you so often claim you'd do a better job of being. Would you like your job performance to be public record, judged by your neighbors, strangers, teenagers, and the community at large? Would you like your weekly goals to be weighed in the morning newspaper, announced for all to see that you either met them, or sadly fell short (again.) How would you like to go on a walk in your town, or step into the library, convenience store, or church, knowing that people will either pat you on the back for a job well done, or else give you a look of pity, or worse, tell you what you should have done instead. Would you be able to handle the pressure of knowing that behind your back, while you are making last-minute decisions, there are hundreds of people who think they know better, and if your decision makes a great play, you are a genius, but if it doesn't, you're the idiot. If you truly think you can do all this, then by all means please come to us for a job. We need good coaches and volunteers, and we'd love to have someone as knowledgeable as you on board.
I'm also thinking about the seniors. Last night was senior night. But 5 of those seniors were either sidelined for good, or playing hurt. Tight End and Linebacker - broken jaw. Offensive and Defensive Lineman - torn ACL. Running Back and Linebacker - staph infection in his heart. Quarterback and Defensive Back - turn knee, which he's played on as best he can until the doctors have finally said no more. Running Back and Defensive Back - twisted ankle that brings him out of the game after every play, but he keeps going back in.
Five seniors. Two captains, enormous talent. Enough that this was to be their year. Our year. Eisenhower's year. Instead, three of them are wondering why they had to face a players worst nightmare: not realizing a certain game or play will be your last. They might play college ball, if they can recover. But I'm sure they look for the recruiters or scouts who should have been watching THEM. Two of them are still trying to play, knowing they could be hurt worse, but knowing for them it's worse not to try. They wanted it that bad, they really did. Instead, they all have to watch helplessly while their younger teammates fight for them.
And I have to go into those younger teammates, because I think this is where most people misunderstand. We have still won five games this year. Two of the games we lost were so close that one less mistake would have made the win. And for any team, that's not bad. But for a team that is now composed of mostly freshman and sophomores, I think that's a heck of a good job.
You see, you may have watched our boys get plowed last night. We made mistakes, we got pushed around. It might have looked like we were 15 yr. old boys playing 18 yr. old men. And we were. You can only gain experience by time. You can only gain the reflexes you need by making the mistakes so you know what to look for. And you can only push as hard as your immature not-quite-developed bodies allow you to. And we did.
Those boys AREN'T seniors. They aren't even juniors, many of them. But they fought hard, all of them. And even though so many hearts were broken this year, there is a team out there that is preparing for next year, and the year after. A team that has now faced more adversity than most face in several years. A team that is playing crippled and has not given up in the fourth quarter for the first time in several years. A team that is learning, play by play, what it means to be a champion.
And I know you wanted it to be THIS year. I know some of you will only see our final record, which will most likely be 5-5. And you will think we haven't improved. But then you must be blind. To be able to win 5 games, most against teams with a better record than ours, with 5 of our seniors either out completely or playing hurt, is a WHOLE lot better than winning 5 games with all your starters in full health.
And then I want to address the Job thing. Not job as in a career, but Job as in the guy in the Bible. Because I feel that's what Boom must feel like this year. Game after game we watched as player after player was hurt. And some not even on the field. And last night was no exception. In fact, it was every mother's nightmare, and player's, too, I'm sure. And to top it off, because of politics I won't go into, there was no ambulance at the game and those 3-5 minutes must have been pure agony for our Wide Receiver and Defensive Back who has made some important plays.
After making a play last night, his foot caught on the field, the field we were playing on because our own was deemed to dangerous with all the mud, and somehow (I'd have to ask if it was a tackle or what) his lower leg got snapped in two and was left dangling at a very wrong angle. Luckily I didn't see it since I don't do good with that kind of thing. But Boom was there holding his hand until they put him on the stretcher. The boy didn't make any sound at all, but squeezed his hand so hard Boom knew he in was in a lot of pain, to say the least. He'll be operated on this morning, and Boom said with that type of injury, he may not be back next year, his senior year. I hope for the players sake, and ours, that will not be the case. But either way, it seems unfair.
And all the while, and I have to ask, Why us? Why this many? Why this year, when things were looking so good?
And lastly, I want to address my husband, the coach. Many people don't understand football. They see it as a barbaric sport with brutal hitting and macho boys trying to prove themselves.
They would be wrong. It's so much more than that for most of them. For those who DO see it as just a game, they are the ones who don't try as hard, who don't put their heart on the line. But for most, football is where they learn who they are. Where they build confidence in themselves. Where they are accepted despite their weight or their looks. For some, it's the only place they feel like a family, or the only time they'll hear the words, "Good job. I'm proud of you."
To those who give me frowns when I explain that my husband couldn't watch the kids because of football, you have no idea what those boys mean to him, and how seriously he takes his job. You aren't there when he's spending hours breaking down film, grading plays, scouting other teams. You weren't there when he spent all night re-writing his playbook for a crippled team. You aren't there when the parents criticize, the fans boo, and reporters misprint quotes. And most importantly, you aren't there on the field when your leg is broken in the worst way, and your coach, your HEAD coach, cares enough to hold your hand and wait with you, cry for you, pray for you. You weren't there after the game when the coach broke down not because HE wanted the win, but because he knew how hard his boys fought, and he felt bad for them.
And last night. Last night his heart was broken. He came home and felt hopeless for the first time this season. This season of injuries and unfairness. He didn't cry. He didn't get mad. He was just defeated. And for the first time in the three years he's been head coach, I sit here crying for him. Because what can you say when the coach is down? Who's there to hold HIS hand? I wish I could do more than hug him. Wish I had words that actually fixed something instead of just soothed over the pain.
And I opened the paper this morning carefully, because I didn't want to read it this time. I wish I could avoid what I know is coming when we see people at church or out and about. Because try as they might, they won't understand. Not completely.
There are a few who understand. At least I hope so. Because it was their boy out there whose hand Boom held. It was their boy in the hospital whom he visited. It was their boy out there who he congratulated, or else comforted. I have heard them say good things about him. And I think, that even if they disagree with his calls sometimes, or if they think their kid should be out there instead of whoever is, I think that they still see his heart. Because that's what makes him a good coach.
It's not the plays, it's not getting to the playoff, it's not winning games. It's caring for the kids, genuinely caring. THAT'S what makes the difference between a good coach and most coaches. And I hope he knows that. I hope that as his heart heals, because eventually it must, he realizes that it doesn't matter what the others think. Those who have come close enough to him to see who he is, they will know. And the others, well, let them talk.
But I know. I know who you are, Boom. I know that you care. And to top it off, I think you ARE a good coach when it comes to playmaking. And you've learned, too. I have never been prouder of you than I have been this year. And though I would have loved to travel to the playoffs with you, I'm just as proud to have you hold you team together long enough to finish the season so no one else gets hurt. I don't know why you were dealt this card, but I admire the way you took it.
And I hope that counts for something.
********* Update on injured player **********
After talking with Boom and others today, it turns out the way the player broke his leg was because the cleats dug into the rather old and bad astro-turf, and when his body turned, his foot did not follow, which in turn cleanly snapped both his leg bones. Luckily it was a clean break, so no pins or anything were needed, but he WILL be in a cast for 4-6 months, and whether he’ll get to play next year or not is still in question. Also, it turns out the ambulance took around 15 minutes to get to the field, not a mere 3 or 5, which I estimated because I thought the time SEEMED long, but couldn’t possibly be that long, but it was. An excruciatingly long 15 minutes.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Bovine in the Backyard....and other stories
Okay, so I like literation. Sue me.
Well, I haven't written anything here for awhile, and the main reason is time and my distaste for modern technology unless I can have it all and update it constantly and fix it instantly.
Anyway, I also figured out that most of the time I have tried to write something I think others might want to read. But let's face it. No one reads my blog, well, maybe ONE person, but that's it. And the reason I REALLY started this blog was for myself and my kids. I save each post and copy it onto a document on my computer, because I always have the fear that one day the internet will mysteriously be shut down forever, and if it wasn't the size of a novel aready, I'd have each page printed out. Just in case I lose my files forever, or by the time my kids are old enough to care about the file, it isn't too old to read on whatever form of technology THEY will have someday.
So, I noticed that I never wrote about a certain incident that was rather funny to me, so I hope the kids will get a kick out of it as well.
When Boomer was still going out to pee in the middle of the night, I got up one night around 4AM and opened the door for him. But instead of walking out and doing his business, he just froze. I wondered what was wrong when I heard it myself: a metal clanging sound just off to the left of us. The only thing metal in the backyard was his pen, and I wondered if a large dog or something was near it. I heard the sound a few more times and then I heard a very LOUD clang RIGHT ON THE BACK PATIO. *I* froze this time. I wanted to close the door so very bad. I didn't know if it was a very large animal or someone with a vendetta (I always worry about students egging our house or something) after us, but I knew that whatever was out there could see ME, even though I could se IT.
I managed enough courage to grab Boomer's lead and pull him in, quickly shutting the door and locking it. Then I ran to the stairway not even letting Boomer loose. I yelled up to Boom, "BOOM! Something or someone is outside on our porch! He bolted down the stairs and into the kitchen, then asked me to get him a t-shirt. (He could have a gun in his hands, but unless he is fully clothed, he'll feel vulnerable.)
He turned on the porch light, which I would have been too scared to do, afraid I'd faint if it was bad enough of a sight, and then he laughed.
I came closer as he said, "It's a COW!" "A cow?" I said. And sure enough, there was a cow, not even 4 feet away from us on the patio outside.
But as the flourescent light warmed up, we noticed that she was not alone. There were four other cows there with her.
Boom tried to figure out if we should call the farmer whose cows they probably were, or just wait until morning a couple hours away when milking time was. But when we made Boomer go outside to pee (knowing he still had to) he was so scared he just barked and they all ran off to the playground, anyway. So we let them go and I'm assuming they made it home eventually.
What what strange was that I actually should have discovered the cows MUCH earlier, and that they had apparently been grazing in our yard all night. When I went to bed around midnight, I thought I heard a "moo" from out front of our house, on the street. Now, back at the trailer, "mooing" was no biggy as my father-in-law had cows that came up past our trailer and behind it. But here in Sugar Grove? On the STREET? There were no close farmers that I'd be able to hear one of THEIR cows, so I figured either I was hearing things, or maybe the Amish were walking a cow down the road for some strange reason, and at midnight.
But I let it go and fell asleep, and until the cows were out of sight did I remember the strange noise I had heard four hours earlier when I went to bed. Mooing, indeed.
******************************************************************
My sister is happily and suprisingly pregnant again, all on their own this time. She even got to see the heartbeat already since she was spotting, and for a week there they worried her because she wasn't far enough along to see anything, and then the numbers were good, but then not as good, but the heart beat was there, so she's feeling much more positive.
She's in for a very busy time with two under 17 months! Congratulations, though!
*****************************************************************
I got a new leash for Boomer that I paid more for than most would have. I got a book from the library called, "Think Dog" by John Fisher, and he mentioned a leash he invented that made it basically impossible for the dog to pull ahead and yet did so very gently and without pain so the dog didn't choke or have to be shocked or hurt with a spiked collar. So I looked it up and his collar was made under a different name and it seems it's only made in Britian. I tried buying one from a Bristish site, but even though USA was an option for me to fill out, they don't ship here.
So I tried making my own with just his normal leash, wrapping it around his muzzle, and it worked like a charm except he was able to get it off every few minutes and it took me longer to get it on than it was worth.
So I searched again and finally found a US company that stocks a Britian made leash that's actually even different than the first one I was going to buy, but is the same style, just a different name. They are both very different from the one commonly sold in the US at pet stores, and from forum posts they say the one I bought is much better.
So I paid the $20 for the collar and the $8 for the shipping (perhaps since it was UPS?) and tried it the very day I got it.
I will forever love that leash!!!! It was worth every penny.
I have enjoyed the three walks we have gone on and even other dogs can't get him to jump ahead. Oh, he tries to, but without even moving me an inch, he turns right around and stops because he can't go where he wants. It's quite amazing, really. No choking sounds like he used to make when pulling away, no more tipped stroller because the only way I could hold onto him and push it was to wrap the leash around the stroller. No more straining to get the stroller straight as he pulls on it. No more worrying when another dog passes by and he literally pulls me across the ground trying to hold on.
It's just a pleasant, peaceful, walk. Oh, he tried to rub it off occasionaly, but I figure that small discomfort it worth it for both of us, because, really, how fun can choking the whole time be for him?
********************************************************
I dove back into my clay the other day, and got frustrated once again as I always do. I won't go into the details (except to say that the one day everything went bad and I burnt a whole batch of granola and almost my fingers and supper was served PAST our bedtime, and it was one of those days I just wanted to be done with so I could start over again) but suffice to say I hate learning curves.
But today I made progress, and tiny as it was, I stopped right there so I could end on a high note, literally.
I made a very succesful, if un-ornamented, whistle, out of clay. The process looked so easy, but it's not, and yet the third time I tried today, doing it my way as well as the right way (as opposed to their way and the right way, hard to explain) it worked. And so I smiled, washed my hands, and offered to play Cand Land with my kids, which I did, happily.
***********************************************************
Of a season that was supposed to be SO promising, instead has arisen so many challenges that one could hardly say that Boom's job this year has been easy.
From week one they have had starter's getting injured and now they are down to just one healthy starter. Two are out for the year, and ironically, it has nothing to do with football. One was a stupid incident that hopefully taught all three boys a lessson. They had decided to trying drinking alcohol and ended up in a fight that broke the one boy's jaw.
The second one happened just this week. We're not sure if it originated with a football injured (getting knocked hard on his leg), but the senior is in the hospital with a staph infection (blood infection.) It's serious enough that his life currently hangs in the balance due to the fact that it's based in his heart, and that if he doesn't respond to the anti-biotics by this weekend, he'll be sent to another hospital because he'll go into cardiac arrenst and need immediate surgery.
So besides worrying about his health, we are now looking at re-writing the entire offensive and defensive strategy for the rest of the year, hoping those with less injuries will recover at some point between here and the end of the season.
But depsite it all, Boom has been more positive than I've ever seen him regarding coaching, and I'm so proud of him. I know he gets down, but he keeps going, and that's what I admire about him. Especially when you coaches like one of our rivals. He's new to the team this year, and Boom actually coached on the staff there before he got this job, while he was subbing in the district.
Anyway, he walked in an talked all big as coaches hand-picked around here are prone to do, but his dreams are quickly slipping away. Someone with inside information has passed on the problems with the program, and they are coming to fruit. Last week after they lost his quote in the paper mentioned that they had a long way to go to get good, and it wouldn't happen in a year (meaning basically that there's no hope anytime soon for this team to win, either here or the years to come, which according to locals - this team is the best talent to come along in a long time at that school, so it's probably not the talest, after all.) This week he apparently "wasn't available at press time for comment, and no stats for the game are available." Which to me says even more than his comment last week.
So I hope that we can limp on and continue playing our hardest. Afterall, even though it would be great for this group of guys to go all the way (though now most of them won't even be playing the rest of the year), there's always the fact that you are BUILDING a team of champions. And champions need to learn how to play without giving up, and that is one lesson our boys have learned well this year. And that in itself is progress.
I love you, Honey. You do great things with those boys. Thank you for working so hard.
Well, I haven't written anything here for awhile, and the main reason is time and my distaste for modern technology unless I can have it all and update it constantly and fix it instantly.
Anyway, I also figured out that most of the time I have tried to write something I think others might want to read. But let's face it. No one reads my blog, well, maybe ONE person, but that's it. And the reason I REALLY started this blog was for myself and my kids. I save each post and copy it onto a document on my computer, because I always have the fear that one day the internet will mysteriously be shut down forever, and if it wasn't the size of a novel aready, I'd have each page printed out. Just in case I lose my files forever, or by the time my kids are old enough to care about the file, it isn't too old to read on whatever form of technology THEY will have someday.
So, I noticed that I never wrote about a certain incident that was rather funny to me, so I hope the kids will get a kick out of it as well.
When Boomer was still going out to pee in the middle of the night, I got up one night around 4AM and opened the door for him. But instead of walking out and doing his business, he just froze. I wondered what was wrong when I heard it myself: a metal clanging sound just off to the left of us. The only thing metal in the backyard was his pen, and I wondered if a large dog or something was near it. I heard the sound a few more times and then I heard a very LOUD clang RIGHT ON THE BACK PATIO. *I* froze this time. I wanted to close the door so very bad. I didn't know if it was a very large animal or someone with a vendetta (I always worry about students egging our house or something) after us, but I knew that whatever was out there could see ME, even though I could se IT.
I managed enough courage to grab Boomer's lead and pull him in, quickly shutting the door and locking it. Then I ran to the stairway not even letting Boomer loose. I yelled up to Boom, "BOOM! Something or someone is outside on our porch! He bolted down the stairs and into the kitchen, then asked me to get him a t-shirt. (He could have a gun in his hands, but unless he is fully clothed, he'll feel vulnerable.)
He turned on the porch light, which I would have been too scared to do, afraid I'd faint if it was bad enough of a sight, and then he laughed.
I came closer as he said, "It's a COW!" "A cow?" I said. And sure enough, there was a cow, not even 4 feet away from us on the patio outside.
But as the flourescent light warmed up, we noticed that she was not alone. There were four other cows there with her.
Boom tried to figure out if we should call the farmer whose cows they probably were, or just wait until morning a couple hours away when milking time was. But when we made Boomer go outside to pee (knowing he still had to) he was so scared he just barked and they all ran off to the playground, anyway. So we let them go and I'm assuming they made it home eventually.
What what strange was that I actually should have discovered the cows MUCH earlier, and that they had apparently been grazing in our yard all night. When I went to bed around midnight, I thought I heard a "moo" from out front of our house, on the street. Now, back at the trailer, "mooing" was no biggy as my father-in-law had cows that came up past our trailer and behind it. But here in Sugar Grove? On the STREET? There were no close farmers that I'd be able to hear one of THEIR cows, so I figured either I was hearing things, or maybe the Amish were walking a cow down the road for some strange reason, and at midnight.
But I let it go and fell asleep, and until the cows were out of sight did I remember the strange noise I had heard four hours earlier when I went to bed. Mooing, indeed.
******************************************************************
My sister is happily and suprisingly pregnant again, all on their own this time. She even got to see the heartbeat already since she was spotting, and for a week there they worried her because she wasn't far enough along to see anything, and then the numbers were good, but then not as good, but the heart beat was there, so she's feeling much more positive.
She's in for a very busy time with two under 17 months! Congratulations, though!
*****************************************************************
I got a new leash for Boomer that I paid more for than most would have. I got a book from the library called, "Think Dog" by John Fisher, and he mentioned a leash he invented that made it basically impossible for the dog to pull ahead and yet did so very gently and without pain so the dog didn't choke or have to be shocked or hurt with a spiked collar. So I looked it up and his collar was made under a different name and it seems it's only made in Britian. I tried buying one from a Bristish site, but even though USA was an option for me to fill out, they don't ship here.
So I tried making my own with just his normal leash, wrapping it around his muzzle, and it worked like a charm except he was able to get it off every few minutes and it took me longer to get it on than it was worth.
So I searched again and finally found a US company that stocks a Britian made leash that's actually even different than the first one I was going to buy, but is the same style, just a different name. They are both very different from the one commonly sold in the US at pet stores, and from forum posts they say the one I bought is much better.
So I paid the $20 for the collar and the $8 for the shipping (perhaps since it was UPS?) and tried it the very day I got it.
I will forever love that leash!!!! It was worth every penny.
I have enjoyed the three walks we have gone on and even other dogs can't get him to jump ahead. Oh, he tries to, but without even moving me an inch, he turns right around and stops because he can't go where he wants. It's quite amazing, really. No choking sounds like he used to make when pulling away, no more tipped stroller because the only way I could hold onto him and push it was to wrap the leash around the stroller. No more straining to get the stroller straight as he pulls on it. No more worrying when another dog passes by and he literally pulls me across the ground trying to hold on.
It's just a pleasant, peaceful, walk. Oh, he tried to rub it off occasionaly, but I figure that small discomfort it worth it for both of us, because, really, how fun can choking the whole time be for him?
********************************************************
I dove back into my clay the other day, and got frustrated once again as I always do. I won't go into the details (except to say that the one day everything went bad and I burnt a whole batch of granola and almost my fingers and supper was served PAST our bedtime, and it was one of those days I just wanted to be done with so I could start over again) but suffice to say I hate learning curves.
But today I made progress, and tiny as it was, I stopped right there so I could end on a high note, literally.
I made a very succesful, if un-ornamented, whistle, out of clay. The process looked so easy, but it's not, and yet the third time I tried today, doing it my way as well as the right way (as opposed to their way and the right way, hard to explain) it worked. And so I smiled, washed my hands, and offered to play Cand Land with my kids, which I did, happily.
***********************************************************
Of a season that was supposed to be SO promising, instead has arisen so many challenges that one could hardly say that Boom's job this year has been easy.
From week one they have had starter's getting injured and now they are down to just one healthy starter. Two are out for the year, and ironically, it has nothing to do with football. One was a stupid incident that hopefully taught all three boys a lessson. They had decided to trying drinking alcohol and ended up in a fight that broke the one boy's jaw.
The second one happened just this week. We're not sure if it originated with a football injured (getting knocked hard on his leg), but the senior is in the hospital with a staph infection (blood infection.) It's serious enough that his life currently hangs in the balance due to the fact that it's based in his heart, and that if he doesn't respond to the anti-biotics by this weekend, he'll be sent to another hospital because he'll go into cardiac arrenst and need immediate surgery.
So besides worrying about his health, we are now looking at re-writing the entire offensive and defensive strategy for the rest of the year, hoping those with less injuries will recover at some point between here and the end of the season.
But depsite it all, Boom has been more positive than I've ever seen him regarding coaching, and I'm so proud of him. I know he gets down, but he keeps going, and that's what I admire about him. Especially when you coaches like one of our rivals. He's new to the team this year, and Boom actually coached on the staff there before he got this job, while he was subbing in the district.
Anyway, he walked in an talked all big as coaches hand-picked around here are prone to do, but his dreams are quickly slipping away. Someone with inside information has passed on the problems with the program, and they are coming to fruit. Last week after they lost his quote in the paper mentioned that they had a long way to go to get good, and it wouldn't happen in a year (meaning basically that there's no hope anytime soon for this team to win, either here or the years to come, which according to locals - this team is the best talent to come along in a long time at that school, so it's probably not the talest, after all.) This week he apparently "wasn't available at press time for comment, and no stats for the game are available." Which to me says even more than his comment last week.
So I hope that we can limp on and continue playing our hardest. Afterall, even though it would be great for this group of guys to go all the way (though now most of them won't even be playing the rest of the year), there's always the fact that you are BUILDING a team of champions. And champions need to learn how to play without giving up, and that is one lesson our boys have learned well this year. And that in itself is progress.
I love you, Honey. You do great things with those boys. Thank you for working so hard.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
I Almost Felt Famous
Well, for those who watch CNN or perhaps even the local news depending on where you live, you might have noticed that the small, rural area we live is was recently brought to the surface of the media when a man-hunt for "Bucky" Phillips ended on Friday night here around 8pm.
For a couple of weeks people have been locking their cars for the first time in decades, people have been looking out for suspicious happenings, and mostly people have been tired of "Bucky" sightings that may actually be OTHER perpetrators who got away with a crime since "Bucky" has been on the run.
For those not familiar with the story, "Bucky" has escaped from jail at least twice, this time with a can-opener through the ceiling. He then eluded police by stealing cars and running back and forth between the New York and Pennsylvania state borders. One day we'd here he was here in Lander or Sugar Grove, the next up in New York, then back in Warren, then up in New York, etc.
The chase became more serious and more dangerous after he shot and killed one state trouper and left one in critical condition in the hospital. He shot them ambush-style with a high-powered assault rifle, so anyone who says he didn't mean it is crazy, in my opinion.
Mostly he escaped police by hiding out with friends and family, many of whom will face charges, as well.
But mostly it was just weird for me since it was actually on CNN, and the day before he was captured he made it to the Top 10 Most Wanted list for the FBI.
And lastly, he ruined our week because all athletic events were cancelled due to the final hours of closing in on him, and a few people almost had to sleep in the local elementary school or fire hall and were not allowed to go home until after he was in custody.
I will miss some of the excitement just because I'm human and it's sometimes fun to say, "Hey, that was in MY town, you know" but mostly I'm just glad he's caught and won't do more damage, and I'm glad life can go on as normal. And I'm thankful that no one I know was hurt and yet at the same time feel guilty that I'm glad it's over, because for at least one wife and one year old child, their agony has only just begun. My heart goes out to them.
For a couple of weeks people have been locking their cars for the first time in decades, people have been looking out for suspicious happenings, and mostly people have been tired of "Bucky" sightings that may actually be OTHER perpetrators who got away with a crime since "Bucky" has been on the run.
For those not familiar with the story, "Bucky" has escaped from jail at least twice, this time with a can-opener through the ceiling. He then eluded police by stealing cars and running back and forth between the New York and Pennsylvania state borders. One day we'd here he was here in Lander or Sugar Grove, the next up in New York, then back in Warren, then up in New York, etc.
The chase became more serious and more dangerous after he shot and killed one state trouper and left one in critical condition in the hospital. He shot them ambush-style with a high-powered assault rifle, so anyone who says he didn't mean it is crazy, in my opinion.
Mostly he escaped police by hiding out with friends and family, many of whom will face charges, as well.
But mostly it was just weird for me since it was actually on CNN, and the day before he was captured he made it to the Top 10 Most Wanted list for the FBI.
And lastly, he ruined our week because all athletic events were cancelled due to the final hours of closing in on him, and a few people almost had to sleep in the local elementary school or fire hall and were not allowed to go home until after he was in custody.
I will miss some of the excitement just because I'm human and it's sometimes fun to say, "Hey, that was in MY town, you know" but mostly I'm just glad he's caught and won't do more damage, and I'm glad life can go on as normal. And I'm thankful that no one I know was hurt and yet at the same time feel guilty that I'm glad it's over, because for at least one wife and one year old child, their agony has only just begun. My heart goes out to them.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Homeschooling as a Life Preserver
Amid all the doubts that I have about homeschooling (and when I say "doubts", I should clarify that I don't doubt that it's what I want or that I believe that it is best for my children, but I doubt because it's not the "normal" thing to do here and so many people still think a little less of it than makes me comfortable) I keep coming back to one thing that re-affirms my decision: the mothers of schooled children.
Ironically, without me even bringing up the subject of school, mother after mother will tell me that "everything changes when they go to school," or "just wait until they get to school, then they really grow up," or "we had to deal with a lot of negative things they were getting in school" and on and on and on.
And yet they still look at me funny when I say that "actually,.....I'm homeschooling for the first several years...." (Yes, I intend to let my children go to high school if they want since I did enjoy it, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there....)
Anyway, I also know a few parents in our town who's children were Boom's classmates and friends growing up. And when we see these parents in town and ask about their children, too many answer, "Well, they haven't been around lately....you know how kids are." To which in my head I reply, "No. I don't. I can't imagine not seeing my own parents often, and I sure hope my kids never stay away for long from us (barring being across the country or in another country, of course.)
And I couldn't help but conjure up a picture in my head as I thought of all these parents who obviously have lost some connection with their children. Maybe it's as simple as their child growing up too quickly, or some bad language acquired, but overall I see the same look in their faces that they must have felt or still feel somewhat out of control of circumstances. And even though I know each child must make their own choices in life, I believe as parents we have the ability to channel those choices and influence them as much as possible.
And in a world where it seems children are bobbing about in a sea of uncertainties and waves are pulling them away from their families, I see homeschooling as a life preserver that will keep my kids afloat and stable. Maybe there are kids out there who will be able to swim despite the storms of the sea - I was one (in the sense that I maintained a relatively good relationship to my parents.) But those will be few. Too many more will be pulled down by a strong current, or will drift with the latest trend.
I'm not trying to "protect my kids from the world" so that they are sheltered and don't know how to cope. On the contrary, I'm trying to teach them to swim, and until they are strong enough and mature enough to swim on their own, I will make sure I have that life saver available to keep them from going under....to keep them close to me so that as they drift away I simply tug the line in.
I don't think it's wrong to be the biggest influence in their lives instead of other children who are only as bright as their years allow them to be. I don't think it's wrong that we will be their main peers instead of insecure children who judge by shifting measures instead of the true person inside. I don't think it's wrong to give them a firm foundation to stand on before sending them off.
I think it's the best way to show them that we think they are worth the work and time it will take to ensure they have a true understanding of who they are in Christ and where their place in this world is.
Ironically, without me even bringing up the subject of school, mother after mother will tell me that "everything changes when they go to school," or "just wait until they get to school, then they really grow up," or "we had to deal with a lot of negative things they were getting in school" and on and on and on.
And yet they still look at me funny when I say that "actually,.....I'm homeschooling for the first several years...." (Yes, I intend to let my children go to high school if they want since I did enjoy it, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there....)
Anyway, I also know a few parents in our town who's children were Boom's classmates and friends growing up. And when we see these parents in town and ask about their children, too many answer, "Well, they haven't been around lately....you know how kids are." To which in my head I reply, "No. I don't. I can't imagine not seeing my own parents often, and I sure hope my kids never stay away for long from us (barring being across the country or in another country, of course.)
And I couldn't help but conjure up a picture in my head as I thought of all these parents who obviously have lost some connection with their children. Maybe it's as simple as their child growing up too quickly, or some bad language acquired, but overall I see the same look in their faces that they must have felt or still feel somewhat out of control of circumstances. And even though I know each child must make their own choices in life, I believe as parents we have the ability to channel those choices and influence them as much as possible.
And in a world where it seems children are bobbing about in a sea of uncertainties and waves are pulling them away from their families, I see homeschooling as a life preserver that will keep my kids afloat and stable. Maybe there are kids out there who will be able to swim despite the storms of the sea - I was one (in the sense that I maintained a relatively good relationship to my parents.) But those will be few. Too many more will be pulled down by a strong current, or will drift with the latest trend.
I'm not trying to "protect my kids from the world" so that they are sheltered and don't know how to cope. On the contrary, I'm trying to teach them to swim, and until they are strong enough and mature enough to swim on their own, I will make sure I have that life saver available to keep them from going under....to keep them close to me so that as they drift away I simply tug the line in.
I don't think it's wrong to be the biggest influence in their lives instead of other children who are only as bright as their years allow them to be. I don't think it's wrong that we will be their main peers instead of insecure children who judge by shifting measures instead of the true person inside. I don't think it's wrong to give them a firm foundation to stand on before sending them off.
I think it's the best way to show them that we think they are worth the work and time it will take to ensure they have a true understanding of who they are in Christ and where their place in this world is.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Emotional Dial
If only emotions could be controlled by a dial I would turn them down when I'm overwhelmed, turn them up when I'm apathetic, and tune them out when I can't take it anymore.
But there is no dial and so many different emotions have crashed upon my shore lately. I'll try to list them and be brief since to be otherwise would be insane...
- Broken-hearted as we attend VBS at our old church (me and the kids, Boom has football.) The one thing I felt really bad about was taking Pumpkin out of the place where she had bloomed and opened up. All her friends upon seeing her exclaimed, "Amber's here!!" and her teacher didn't realize we had left the church until tonight when I told him, and had been looking forward to Cubbies (Awana) in the fall, and said, "Oh, and she was my favorite..." It almost made me want to cry. Our new church isn't bad at all, but it's much smaller, so Pumpkin only has ONE child her age in her class, the same boy we see weekly with his family.
- Happy and Hopeful at our new church. I have made many new friends whom I see on a more regular basis with either football, the library and other community events, or a playdate. The playdate friend is the pastor's daughter and the youth pastor's wife. Their son is Pumpkin's age and their daughter is a few months younger than Rugger.
- Frustrated and Depressed about the clay situation. I want my kiln hooked up so I can move forward. I wonder if I'm really any good, and I wish I could practice more to find out. I wonder if I'll be good enough to make ANY type of profit from it, and when I'll find the time to make enough to sell if I can.
- Torn about my homeschooling decision. As a child I was always on the outside looking at the IN crowd. Not by choice, but by their default. I was the one they chose to pick on. So I became a people pleaser, wanting only ONE thing all my life - to be accepted and fit in. And though it defies odds, I keep choosing things in my adult life that put me outside of that "normal" circle (ie. homebirth, cloth diapers, co-sleeping, etc.) And so the one thing I have NEVER wanted for my children was for them to not be included, liked, wanted. And I realized as all of Pumpkins friends/relatives that are her age will be in pre-school next year, and she won't. And if you ask her, she'd love to go to school (it's on TV, in her books, and she has toys that depict "school.") And I realize that I, *I* am the one who is placing her on the outside looking in, I'm setting her apart, making her "odd." And it rips me apart.
- Encouraged by the movie "Spanglish" when Adam Sandlers says, "You have to root for 'odd' verses 'the same'" and then at the end when the author of the essay states, "one thing defines me: I am my mother's daughter." I of course cried and hoped that maybe my daughter will be okay, afterall.
- Worried that my happy life will someday be shattered. As I lay in bed the other night after Rugger had just nursed to sleep and Pumpkin was sleeping in the bed a few feet away, I wanted for a moment to freeze time; to stay right where we were and not move forward in time, where tragedy or sorrow or despair might hit us at any point in time. For here there was only peace, happiness, and contentment. And my heart clenched to think that it may not always be so.
But there is no dial and so many different emotions have crashed upon my shore lately. I'll try to list them and be brief since to be otherwise would be insane...
- Broken-hearted as we attend VBS at our old church (me and the kids, Boom has football.) The one thing I felt really bad about was taking Pumpkin out of the place where she had bloomed and opened up. All her friends upon seeing her exclaimed, "Amber's here!!" and her teacher didn't realize we had left the church until tonight when I told him, and had been looking forward to Cubbies (Awana) in the fall, and said, "Oh, and she was my favorite..." It almost made me want to cry. Our new church isn't bad at all, but it's much smaller, so Pumpkin only has ONE child her age in her class, the same boy we see weekly with his family.
- Happy and Hopeful at our new church. I have made many new friends whom I see on a more regular basis with either football, the library and other community events, or a playdate. The playdate friend is the pastor's daughter and the youth pastor's wife. Their son is Pumpkin's age and their daughter is a few months younger than Rugger.
- Frustrated and Depressed about the clay situation. I want my kiln hooked up so I can move forward. I wonder if I'm really any good, and I wish I could practice more to find out. I wonder if I'll be good enough to make ANY type of profit from it, and when I'll find the time to make enough to sell if I can.
- Torn about my homeschooling decision. As a child I was always on the outside looking at the IN crowd. Not by choice, but by their default. I was the one they chose to pick on. So I became a people pleaser, wanting only ONE thing all my life - to be accepted and fit in. And though it defies odds, I keep choosing things in my adult life that put me outside of that "normal" circle (ie. homebirth, cloth diapers, co-sleeping, etc.) And so the one thing I have NEVER wanted for my children was for them to not be included, liked, wanted. And I realized as all of Pumpkins friends/relatives that are her age will be in pre-school next year, and she won't. And if you ask her, she'd love to go to school (it's on TV, in her books, and she has toys that depict "school.") And I realize that I, *I* am the one who is placing her on the outside looking in, I'm setting her apart, making her "odd." And it rips me apart.
- Encouraged by the movie "Spanglish" when Adam Sandlers says, "You have to root for 'odd' verses 'the same'" and then at the end when the author of the essay states, "one thing defines me: I am my mother's daughter." I of course cried and hoped that maybe my daughter will be okay, afterall.
- Worried that my happy life will someday be shattered. As I lay in bed the other night after Rugger had just nursed to sleep and Pumpkin was sleeping in the bed a few feet away, I wanted for a moment to freeze time; to stay right where we were and not move forward in time, where tragedy or sorrow or despair might hit us at any point in time. For here there was only peace, happiness, and contentment. And my heart clenched to think that it may not always be so.
Aren't They CUTE!!!
Okay, so I haven't posted a kid pic in awhile, and I thougt that I should because the world is missing out by not seeing my adorable duo. And now that I've cut Rugger's hair REALLY short for the first time, I realize just how much he's not a baby, anymore, so I like that he still looks it in this picture...
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Fairies, Knights, and Men In Tights
Yes I'm still here, and no, this isn't going to be a weird post. I simply want to update my life in the past few weeks.
First off, since my last post, we have read the book, "Ceasar's Way" by the famed Dog Whisperer on the National Geographic Channel. And it has helped some with caring for Boomer. We now walk him every day and we do keep him outside all day, which still depresses me some, but I have hope that he'll get better and better and eventually be able to be with us all the time.
A couple of weekends ago Boom and I went to the Gread Lakes Medieval Faire in Astabula, Ohio. We had a lot of fun, even though it rained most of the time and it was a huge mud puddle. But for our first medieval faire, it was pretty cool. I guess there are many other bigger, better fairs out there, but this one was close enough to drop the kids off with my parents and it fell during a time when Boom could actually go, vs. , say, the Pittsburgh Renaissance Festival which falls during football season.
So, overall, it was good. I bought a bamboo flute even though I couldn't play a flute before (in a couple of days I was actually playing a tune) and I wanted an ocarina, but I'll have to buy one off the net, I guess. They didn't have any potters or wood carvers there, so that disappointed me, but oh, well.
The next weekend my parents came out for the annual Sugar Grove Garage Sales Day. On Friday we went to Bemus Point, NY, which is only 20 minutes from here and enjoyed window shopping (and some real shopping) and then a wonderful lunch, and then even went swimming in a small little beach where there was only two other families. And when the kids got tired of swimming, they went to the playground across the street.
Saturday was hot and sunny, and we did okay with our junk, and the football boosters sold hotdogs and hamburgs, pop and candy in front of our house and made out okay (after they almost didn't do it for lack of interest or belief that they wouldn't make anything.) Next year they'll be here earlier and probably make even more profit. I had a fun day as I like crowds and made a few deals on books and toys, myself.
This past weekend was the Big 30 Game, an all-star game between North Western PA and South Western NY, with profits going to charities. Boom was honored to be chosen as the head coach this year, though the politics and driving distance for the practices made it also quite a hassel. But we won, pretty well with a final score of 40-20, with two of their touchdowns scored off of our penalties and the last scored in the final seconds of the game. The only down side is that it's such a big rivalry that both teams had a lot of un-sportman-like conduct, which both coaches tried to control but basically since the boys are seniors, they know there will be no punishment come Monday...they are done with the coaches after the game.
Over all I had fun watching the game, though.
So that's basically it, I guess. The electricity is ALMOST done in the house, just a switch-over away and then I can hook up my kiln. MY KILN!!!! So I'm dying with impatience for that, but there's not much I can do, so I just wait. And maybe make a phone call this week....we'll see.
Other than that, my kids are doing wonderful and are witty as ever, and I'm actually, yes, actually considering maybe having more some day. Considering.....
First off, since my last post, we have read the book, "Ceasar's Way" by the famed Dog Whisperer on the National Geographic Channel. And it has helped some with caring for Boomer. We now walk him every day and we do keep him outside all day, which still depresses me some, but I have hope that he'll get better and better and eventually be able to be with us all the time.
A couple of weekends ago Boom and I went to the Gread Lakes Medieval Faire in Astabula, Ohio. We had a lot of fun, even though it rained most of the time and it was a huge mud puddle. But for our first medieval faire, it was pretty cool. I guess there are many other bigger, better fairs out there, but this one was close enough to drop the kids off with my parents and it fell during a time when Boom could actually go, vs. , say, the Pittsburgh Renaissance Festival which falls during football season.
So, overall, it was good. I bought a bamboo flute even though I couldn't play a flute before (in a couple of days I was actually playing a tune) and I wanted an ocarina, but I'll have to buy one off the net, I guess. They didn't have any potters or wood carvers there, so that disappointed me, but oh, well.
The next weekend my parents came out for the annual Sugar Grove Garage Sales Day. On Friday we went to Bemus Point, NY, which is only 20 minutes from here and enjoyed window shopping (and some real shopping) and then a wonderful lunch, and then even went swimming in a small little beach where there was only two other families. And when the kids got tired of swimming, they went to the playground across the street.
Saturday was hot and sunny, and we did okay with our junk, and the football boosters sold hotdogs and hamburgs, pop and candy in front of our house and made out okay (after they almost didn't do it for lack of interest or belief that they wouldn't make anything.) Next year they'll be here earlier and probably make even more profit. I had a fun day as I like crowds and made a few deals on books and toys, myself.
This past weekend was the Big 30 Game, an all-star game between North Western PA and South Western NY, with profits going to charities. Boom was honored to be chosen as the head coach this year, though the politics and driving distance for the practices made it also quite a hassel. But we won, pretty well with a final score of 40-20, with two of their touchdowns scored off of our penalties and the last scored in the final seconds of the game. The only down side is that it's such a big rivalry that both teams had a lot of un-sportman-like conduct, which both coaches tried to control but basically since the boys are seniors, they know there will be no punishment come Monday...they are done with the coaches after the game.
Over all I had fun watching the game, though.
So that's basically it, I guess. The electricity is ALMOST done in the house, just a switch-over away and then I can hook up my kiln. MY KILN!!!! So I'm dying with impatience for that, but there's not much I can do, so I just wait. And maybe make a phone call this week....we'll see.
Other than that, my kids are doing wonderful and are witty as ever, and I'm actually, yes, actually considering maybe having more some day. Considering.....
Monday, July 03, 2006
The Ups & Downs of Life
Well, for the most part my life seems to boring and busy to write about, but I suppose if I have a blog I really SHOULD try to use it more often.
Anyway, this past week and a half has been an emotional roller coaster ride. Some of that is hormones, but the rest is just life.
Two Thursdays ago we went to the zoo - Boom, me, Rugger and Pumpkin. The Erie Zoo, that is. Small but close by. We spent a good three hours there, stopping for lunch at the park next door so they could play on the playground. We had a wonderful time and afterwords Boom headed back for home and the kids and I headed off to Ohio for the week.
Well, more accurately, we would go to Indiana fo the weekend, then spend a few days in Ohio. Boom had a linemen camp up at Edinboro University Sunday through Wednesday (where his team was the best this year!) and so we had to go without him.
On Friday we traveled out to Indiana and on Saturday was the reunion, after which we went to my cousin's house to swim a little and eat and chat. We haven't seen them at the reunion much in years past, and it was nice to see them there and visit at their house.
Sunday we went to my Uncle's church and then back to his house for lunch and then the long ride (5 hours plus stops) home again. I made a few hemp necklaces for the first time, and the kids actually did great on the trip out AND back. We had the portable DVD player which decided to work intermittenly due to the back lite going bad, but otherwise we had a good two hours where they were occupied by a movie.
Monday we went grocery shopping and spent some time at my sister's with her and the baby, then Tuesday we went bowling since my mom takes my Grandma to her league, and Rugger just HAD to bowl all by himself, lugging the 6 lb. ball and tossing it sideways.
Then Wednesday we had a great time at the Cleveland Zoo. First time I've been there in a long time, so long that I don't remember the first time I've been there as a small child. The first thing we saw was the elephants since the Erie Zoo and the Akron Zoo (which we visited last year) don't have elephants.
And BOY! did we see the elephants! They went in to eat and we got to watch the keeper spray down the elephant, giving the elephant hand signals to turn around, lift his legs, etc. The kids were absolutely enthralled!
After the zoo we traveled home and ate at CiCi's, a pizza buffet which I had for the first time.
Then Thursday we came home, me driving by myself for the first time on that route, and with the kids.
And that's when the depression hit. Home. Where Mom isn't doing the laundry, making the meals, and entertaining the kids (don't ask me how she does all that AND keeps the house looking great...I have no idea.)
Home. Where I have to chase the dog down if he is ever loose even for a second. Where the toys must always be picked up in order to avoid being chewn. Where the doors to other rooms are closed and a gate to upstairs is put up to avoid things being chewn.
And Boom's solution is to just keep the dog outside all day. But it just kills be to do this. If he had another dog to play with, it would be one thing. But he doesn't. So he just lays there. Almost the whole time.
And if we go outside, he'll bark unless he can reach us. Which inevitably ends up being work the entire time we're out since the kids will trip on the cable and he'll keep jumping after them or trying to reach their toys. And if I go on a walk, I feel guilty leaving him behind, but then I end up pulling him back the entire walk since he doesn't know how to heel, and then I chase him down because I let him loose at the creekbed.
And so we've come to a conclusion: either we give the dog to one of Jim's brother's friends who broke down in tears while we were away because he played with the dog who reminded him of his own who was shot by his neighbor last year. He's a good kid, though he drinks, and we know he'd take good care of him. And if he doesn't want him, then I will have to somehow change my thinking so that I can pretend that I don't have a dog all day long in order to enjoy my kids without guilt. It's just that 100 or more pounds of dog don't mix very well with 30 lb. toddlers. And 30 lb. toddlers don't comprehend how not to get to near the dog so he won't lick them, or how to jump over the cable before it wraps around your leg, or how the dog isn't killing you when it licks the crumbs off of your chair, etc.
So that's were we are at. Back home and back to reality. I didn't miss the dog while we were gone; I enjoyed the freedom of not worrying about it. And I wish I hadn't been so stuipd as to think I could handle a dog at this point in time. And even worse, that it was a full breed so we are pretty much out of several hundred dollars at this point, which we could have used for other things of course.
So one way or the other, it was an expensive lesson learned. And if we DO keep him, I guess I don't mind. I just am not used to ignoring a pet all day. The outside dog we had from the time I was 12 on I DID ignore, but I always felt bad for her. I know she was walked occasionaly and such, but not every day, and I know we didn't always say hi to her and such. And what kind of life is that? All my friends who have dogs have them outside or in a kennel all day, too. So I guess I'm just weird. But I don't get it.....
Anyway, this past week and a half has been an emotional roller coaster ride. Some of that is hormones, but the rest is just life.
Two Thursdays ago we went to the zoo - Boom, me, Rugger and Pumpkin. The Erie Zoo, that is. Small but close by. We spent a good three hours there, stopping for lunch at the park next door so they could play on the playground. We had a wonderful time and afterwords Boom headed back for home and the kids and I headed off to Ohio for the week.
Well, more accurately, we would go to Indiana fo the weekend, then spend a few days in Ohio. Boom had a linemen camp up at Edinboro University Sunday through Wednesday (where his team was the best this year!) and so we had to go without him.
On Friday we traveled out to Indiana and on Saturday was the reunion, after which we went to my cousin's house to swim a little and eat and chat. We haven't seen them at the reunion much in years past, and it was nice to see them there and visit at their house.
Sunday we went to my Uncle's church and then back to his house for lunch and then the long ride (5 hours plus stops) home again. I made a few hemp necklaces for the first time, and the kids actually did great on the trip out AND back. We had the portable DVD player which decided to work intermittenly due to the back lite going bad, but otherwise we had a good two hours where they were occupied by a movie.
Monday we went grocery shopping and spent some time at my sister's with her and the baby, then Tuesday we went bowling since my mom takes my Grandma to her league, and Rugger just HAD to bowl all by himself, lugging the 6 lb. ball and tossing it sideways.
Then Wednesday we had a great time at the Cleveland Zoo. First time I've been there in a long time, so long that I don't remember the first time I've been there as a small child. The first thing we saw was the elephants since the Erie Zoo and the Akron Zoo (which we visited last year) don't have elephants.
And BOY! did we see the elephants! They went in to eat and we got to watch the keeper spray down the elephant, giving the elephant hand signals to turn around, lift his legs, etc. The kids were absolutely enthralled!
After the zoo we traveled home and ate at CiCi's, a pizza buffet which I had for the first time.
Then Thursday we came home, me driving by myself for the first time on that route, and with the kids.
And that's when the depression hit. Home. Where Mom isn't doing the laundry, making the meals, and entertaining the kids (don't ask me how she does all that AND keeps the house looking great...I have no idea.)
Home. Where I have to chase the dog down if he is ever loose even for a second. Where the toys must always be picked up in order to avoid being chewn. Where the doors to other rooms are closed and a gate to upstairs is put up to avoid things being chewn.
And Boom's solution is to just keep the dog outside all day. But it just kills be to do this. If he had another dog to play with, it would be one thing. But he doesn't. So he just lays there. Almost the whole time.
And if we go outside, he'll bark unless he can reach us. Which inevitably ends up being work the entire time we're out since the kids will trip on the cable and he'll keep jumping after them or trying to reach their toys. And if I go on a walk, I feel guilty leaving him behind, but then I end up pulling him back the entire walk since he doesn't know how to heel, and then I chase him down because I let him loose at the creekbed.
And so we've come to a conclusion: either we give the dog to one of Jim's brother's friends who broke down in tears while we were away because he played with the dog who reminded him of his own who was shot by his neighbor last year. He's a good kid, though he drinks, and we know he'd take good care of him. And if he doesn't want him, then I will have to somehow change my thinking so that I can pretend that I don't have a dog all day long in order to enjoy my kids without guilt. It's just that 100 or more pounds of dog don't mix very well with 30 lb. toddlers. And 30 lb. toddlers don't comprehend how not to get to near the dog so he won't lick them, or how to jump over the cable before it wraps around your leg, or how the dog isn't killing you when it licks the crumbs off of your chair, etc.
So that's were we are at. Back home and back to reality. I didn't miss the dog while we were gone; I enjoyed the freedom of not worrying about it. And I wish I hadn't been so stuipd as to think I could handle a dog at this point in time. And even worse, that it was a full breed so we are pretty much out of several hundred dollars at this point, which we could have used for other things of course.
So one way or the other, it was an expensive lesson learned. And if we DO keep him, I guess I don't mind. I just am not used to ignoring a pet all day. The outside dog we had from the time I was 12 on I DID ignore, but I always felt bad for her. I know she was walked occasionaly and such, but not every day, and I know we didn't always say hi to her and such. And what kind of life is that? All my friends who have dogs have them outside or in a kennel all day, too. So I guess I'm just weird. But I don't get it.....
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Money, Money, Money...
Well, our credit card company should be happy lately. Not that we don't pay it off, but just that we've been using it more this last two weeks.
We decided to splurge and get a portable DVD player (and I also went ahead and got the carrier so I didn't have to make one, that fits on the front seats so the kids can watch from theirs.) We bought a DVD recorder/VCR combo so we can permanantly burn all our old family tapes and such. And tonight we just purchased a Dell bacis computer because we're tired of this one not being able to do anything since it's "SO" old (not even 10 years???)
Oh, well. At least we'll enjoy all three over and over again, so it's quite worth it. But, OUCH! on the pocket book!
And meanwhile, somewhere in the recess of my brain and the room upstairs my clay is calling to me, but I have had places to go and people to meet and I'm not even close to being done. So my precious passion will have to wait.
We decided to splurge and get a portable DVD player (and I also went ahead and got the carrier so I didn't have to make one, that fits on the front seats so the kids can watch from theirs.) We bought a DVD recorder/VCR combo so we can permanantly burn all our old family tapes and such. And tonight we just purchased a Dell bacis computer because we're tired of this one not being able to do anything since it's "SO" old (not even 10 years???)
Oh, well. At least we'll enjoy all three over and over again, so it's quite worth it. But, OUCH! on the pocket book!
And meanwhile, somewhere in the recess of my brain and the room upstairs my clay is calling to me, but I have had places to go and people to meet and I'm not even close to being done. So my precious passion will have to wait.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Writings in the Sand
Where do I draw the line? How do I draw the line? More accurately, where does GOD want me to draw the line???
I have been on a journey for the last 3 years. A journey of questions, doubts, worries, and a few brief moments of freedom finding.
Since becoming a parent, I have asked myself 100's of times, How do I present the Truth to my children so they understand and live it?
I know that there is no way I can present the Truth to them if I myself am unsure of it. And therein lies the problem.
I didn't used to be this way. Before. Before I went online. Before I found people who lived their lives differently from me. Who opened up a whole new way of thinking and feeling and living. Who for the most part showed me better alternatives to my narrow way of thinking. Whom without I would have floundered even longer than I have to find a way of parenting infants that fits my style and theirs.
But who also created gaps in my faith. Not on purpose, but by the simple act of stating something I had never thought before.
And so I looked and searched and researched. And answers were many and varied, and I still didn't know. And I still am looking and searching and at times I think I have it until something comes along to shatter it all over again.
How do I know what is Right and Good? For surely there IS a Right and Good? Christ didn't set an example so we could keep on playing in the dirty filth we call fun. But so that we could follow and be light to the dark world around us.
So what IS the light? What is not appropriate for us as Christians? Surely there must be SOMETHING every Christian agrees on? Or isn't there....
"Each person has to decide for themselves." "Only God can tell you where to draw the line." "If it's not in the Bible, it's a grey area, and you have to decide for yourself." etc, etc, etc.
It's the Grey that's killing me. Surely God has an opinion of the grey stuff?? I mean, if there's a Best (Christ) then there must be a worst (opposite of Christ). And the inbetween must fall SOMEWHERE closer to Best or Worst. How can a certain inbetween fall closer to Worst for me, but be closer to Best for you? Or vice versa?
Wouldn't it stand to reason that if one had all his/her Grey matter shoved closer to the Best that there would be hardly ANYTHING they'd consider to be close to being Worst? And wouldn't that technically mean that even something that is Sorta-Worst would end up on their Sorta-Best end instead?
Or from another angle, if someone's line is so close to the edge that even a bump would send them flailing, then wouldn't that mean there is nothing they consider wrong?
So where do you draw the line?
I grew up with the line so far from the edge that I didn't even know what the edge looked like. I was ridiculed for being naive, chastised for being ignorant, and pitied for being sheltered. But I never once came close to falling off that cliff.
On the other hand, I see people dancing on the safety barrier because they, afterall, know they can handle it. It doesn't affect them...
But how can it not? Wouldn't it stand to reason that the closer to the edge you begin, the better chance you have of going over it someday?
But maybe my analogy is wrong. I once was asked if I thought God's Will was like a target, and I didn't get the bullseye then I have missed and messed up my life. Yes, I do think that's what it's like.
But they say it's not. That God can have many plans and as long as you are in His daily will, you are okay. But in my thinking, that still means that eventually you will hit the Bullseye, the Mark, the Goal.
So what IS the truth? How do I find it? I've memorized scripture since I was a kid, and I can talk circles around my OWN theologies, so how to I glean the good stuff and leave the chaff behind? I admit that praying is hard for me. I feel I don't know how to do it right. I talk, I try to listen, I hear nothing. Then I try to guess what I did wrong so I can confess and hear God, and I still don't hear Him.
Why is everyone else comfortable with the choices they've made, but me? And when I think I AM comfortable, I meet someone who disagrees with me, and I begin to doubt again. Especially if GOD told them that THEIR way was right for them. If it's right for them, then perhaps it should be right for me. Afterall, I'm not entirely sure it was God who I heard from in the first place. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.
Yes, I'm a people pleaser, which also translates into me wanting to please God. To the extreme. Give me a list God, I may die trying, but You know I'll try. If it went against everything I feel, I'd still do it. Because I want to get it RIGHT.
I have tried to follow instinct, believing God gave it to me, as a parent. But when all the other Christian parents do something different, then I begin to wonder. God wouldn't tell all the other Mom's one thing and me another, would He? And if so, then how does He expect me to fit in when they start talking about how I should do it "such and such" a way?
So where do I draw the line? How do I draw the line? I feel like the men who accused the woman who was sleeping with a man not married to her, when Jesus began to write in the sand. Maybe they saw what He was writing, but we don't know. But I feel like my lines are all written in the sand, only I can't make them out. And when I think I see where they are, the prevailing winds come and they fade away.
I'm a lot closer to the edge than I have ever been before, and believe me, it's not always easy. I liked being safe, and I'm not convinced that that isn't the better place to be. But I don't know, and I don't know if I'll ever know. But I want to know.
I want it to be more than just writings in the sand.
I have been on a journey for the last 3 years. A journey of questions, doubts, worries, and a few brief moments of freedom finding.
Since becoming a parent, I have asked myself 100's of times, How do I present the Truth to my children so they understand and live it?
I know that there is no way I can present the Truth to them if I myself am unsure of it. And therein lies the problem.
I didn't used to be this way. Before. Before I went online. Before I found people who lived their lives differently from me. Who opened up a whole new way of thinking and feeling and living. Who for the most part showed me better alternatives to my narrow way of thinking. Whom without I would have floundered even longer than I have to find a way of parenting infants that fits my style and theirs.
But who also created gaps in my faith. Not on purpose, but by the simple act of stating something I had never thought before.
And so I looked and searched and researched. And answers were many and varied, and I still didn't know. And I still am looking and searching and at times I think I have it until something comes along to shatter it all over again.
How do I know what is Right and Good? For surely there IS a Right and Good? Christ didn't set an example so we could keep on playing in the dirty filth we call fun. But so that we could follow and be light to the dark world around us.
So what IS the light? What is not appropriate for us as Christians? Surely there must be SOMETHING every Christian agrees on? Or isn't there....
"Each person has to decide for themselves." "Only God can tell you where to draw the line." "If it's not in the Bible, it's a grey area, and you have to decide for yourself." etc, etc, etc.
It's the Grey that's killing me. Surely God has an opinion of the grey stuff?? I mean, if there's a Best (Christ) then there must be a worst (opposite of Christ). And the inbetween must fall SOMEWHERE closer to Best or Worst. How can a certain inbetween fall closer to Worst for me, but be closer to Best for you? Or vice versa?
Wouldn't it stand to reason that if one had all his/her Grey matter shoved closer to the Best that there would be hardly ANYTHING they'd consider to be close to being Worst? And wouldn't that technically mean that even something that is Sorta-Worst would end up on their Sorta-Best end instead?
Or from another angle, if someone's line is so close to the edge that even a bump would send them flailing, then wouldn't that mean there is nothing they consider wrong?
So where do you draw the line?
I grew up with the line so far from the edge that I didn't even know what the edge looked like. I was ridiculed for being naive, chastised for being ignorant, and pitied for being sheltered. But I never once came close to falling off that cliff.
On the other hand, I see people dancing on the safety barrier because they, afterall, know they can handle it. It doesn't affect them...
But how can it not? Wouldn't it stand to reason that the closer to the edge you begin, the better chance you have of going over it someday?
But maybe my analogy is wrong. I once was asked if I thought God's Will was like a target, and I didn't get the bullseye then I have missed and messed up my life. Yes, I do think that's what it's like.
But they say it's not. That God can have many plans and as long as you are in His daily will, you are okay. But in my thinking, that still means that eventually you will hit the Bullseye, the Mark, the Goal.
So what IS the truth? How do I find it? I've memorized scripture since I was a kid, and I can talk circles around my OWN theologies, so how to I glean the good stuff and leave the chaff behind? I admit that praying is hard for me. I feel I don't know how to do it right. I talk, I try to listen, I hear nothing. Then I try to guess what I did wrong so I can confess and hear God, and I still don't hear Him.
Why is everyone else comfortable with the choices they've made, but me? And when I think I AM comfortable, I meet someone who disagrees with me, and I begin to doubt again. Especially if GOD told them that THEIR way was right for them. If it's right for them, then perhaps it should be right for me. Afterall, I'm not entirely sure it was God who I heard from in the first place. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.
Yes, I'm a people pleaser, which also translates into me wanting to please God. To the extreme. Give me a list God, I may die trying, but You know I'll try. If it went against everything I feel, I'd still do it. Because I want to get it RIGHT.
I have tried to follow instinct, believing God gave it to me, as a parent. But when all the other Christian parents do something different, then I begin to wonder. God wouldn't tell all the other Mom's one thing and me another, would He? And if so, then how does He expect me to fit in when they start talking about how I should do it "such and such" a way?
So where do I draw the line? How do I draw the line? I feel like the men who accused the woman who was sleeping with a man not married to her, when Jesus began to write in the sand. Maybe they saw what He was writing, but we don't know. But I feel like my lines are all written in the sand, only I can't make them out. And when I think I see where they are, the prevailing winds come and they fade away.
I'm a lot closer to the edge than I have ever been before, and believe me, it's not always easy. I liked being safe, and I'm not convinced that that isn't the better place to be. But I don't know, and I don't know if I'll ever know. But I want to know.
I want it to be more than just writings in the sand.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Busy, busy, busy!
This week I:
- Went to a new church for the second time, including Sunday School and a carry-in/annual meeting afterwards.
- Helped Boom move his desk upstairs to the attic, along with my sewing machine and all his stuff
- Moved my desk to the living room and moved the fish tank to the opposite wall
- On Monday I re-arranged the living room which included drilling a hole big enough for two cable wires through our thick double 100 yr. old floor boards, un-splicing and re-splicing phone wire for the computer, moving all furniture and entertainment center and computer
- Went to small meeting at library to discuss a small application tape for "Deal Or No Deal" for one of the group members
- On Tuesday I visited with the pastor's daughter/associate pastor's wife and her kids and the kids she watches; had a great time talking
- Wednesday was shopping day (grocery and Walmart) and then Awana where I felt like a liar and betrayer
- Thursday was story hour and then I made shish-kabobs for supper then we met with the pastor
- Friday another quick errand at the store and then on to a lady from our current church's house where we took 7 hours to make 6 stepping stones for the ladies retreat next weekend (which I'm not going to in case you wanted to know) Wanted to tell her since she's also in charge of Awana, but didn't have to heart or courage to....
- Today I've cleaned all the rooms, almost and tidied up everything and the kids are in the bath, I'm next, then more shish-kabobs.
There - there's my week. How was yours?
- Went to a new church for the second time, including Sunday School and a carry-in/annual meeting afterwards.
- Helped Boom move his desk upstairs to the attic, along with my sewing machine and all his stuff
- Moved my desk to the living room and moved the fish tank to the opposite wall
- On Monday I re-arranged the living room which included drilling a hole big enough for two cable wires through our thick double 100 yr. old floor boards, un-splicing and re-splicing phone wire for the computer, moving all furniture and entertainment center and computer
- Went to small meeting at library to discuss a small application tape for "Deal Or No Deal" for one of the group members
- On Tuesday I visited with the pastor's daughter/associate pastor's wife and her kids and the kids she watches; had a great time talking
- Wednesday was shopping day (grocery and Walmart) and then Awana where I felt like a liar and betrayer
- Thursday was story hour and then I made shish-kabobs for supper then we met with the pastor
- Friday another quick errand at the store and then on to a lady from our current church's house where we took 7 hours to make 6 stepping stones for the ladies retreat next weekend (which I'm not going to in case you wanted to know) Wanted to tell her since she's also in charge of Awana, but didn't have to heart or courage to....
- Today I've cleaned all the rooms, almost and tidied up everything and the kids are in the bath, I'm next, then more shish-kabobs.
There - there's my week. How was yours?
To Everything There Is A Season
We don't give up easily, Boom and I. At least we try very hard not to. But we were beginning to feel so downtrodden every time we walked into church that we had to do SOMETHING.
After months of soul searching and praying (more on his part than mine - I just kept hoping it'd get better) we decided to finally try the church here in town that we'd heard about and that we knew at least a few folks who attend.
The first Sunday was okay, enough to try again. The second Sunday we knew. This was where we wanted to be.
I hope it's not wrong. I hope this is where God is leading us. Boom thinks so - God always leads him; I just follow. I keep thinking that anything that might make me happy God wouldn't want, so I can't completely feel at ease with this. And everytime I go to church on Wednesday I feel like a traitor and a liar.
What hurts worse, though, is that no one has noticed our absence, or at least not that they've mentioned. But that's how it's been - that's why we wanted something else.
A church is supposed to be a family, a support, a fellowship. We need friends, not just mentors. We need people who will help encourage us in our Christian walk, not just wish us good luck.
The people have always been friendly and nice, just not to the point that we felt appreciated beyond the warm chair and the positions of service we filled.
So we are moving on. How we will break it off we don't know, yet. How they'll respond we don't know yet. Whether the new church will be all that different we can't say for sure, yet. But we won't give up. Somewhere out there....there has to be people who like us for who we ARE, not what we DO. I hope this is that place....
After months of soul searching and praying (more on his part than mine - I just kept hoping it'd get better) we decided to finally try the church here in town that we'd heard about and that we knew at least a few folks who attend.
The first Sunday was okay, enough to try again. The second Sunday we knew. This was where we wanted to be.
I hope it's not wrong. I hope this is where God is leading us. Boom thinks so - God always leads him; I just follow. I keep thinking that anything that might make me happy God wouldn't want, so I can't completely feel at ease with this. And everytime I go to church on Wednesday I feel like a traitor and a liar.
What hurts worse, though, is that no one has noticed our absence, or at least not that they've mentioned. But that's how it's been - that's why we wanted something else.
A church is supposed to be a family, a support, a fellowship. We need friends, not just mentors. We need people who will help encourage us in our Christian walk, not just wish us good luck.
The people have always been friendly and nice, just not to the point that we felt appreciated beyond the warm chair and the positions of service we filled.
So we are moving on. How we will break it off we don't know, yet. How they'll respond we don't know yet. Whether the new church will be all that different we can't say for sure, yet. But we won't give up. Somewhere out there....there has to be people who like us for who we ARE, not what we DO. I hope this is that place....
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Yeah, THIS is the answer.....
Noelle, the pregnant robot.
But does she let the staff know if they were kind or cross? Is she able to show emotion when she feels treated like, well, a machine, instead of a human being? Does she cry in pain or joy?
"We steal shamelessly from everybody and everywhere that has good training programs."
What about homebirths and midwifery where training is hands-on, personal, and the outcomes are statistically better than medicated births?
But I guess if you're going for the whole "patients aren't people, they are statistics" thing, then a robot probably will do wonders for you.
But does she let the staff know if they were kind or cross? Is she able to show emotion when she feels treated like, well, a machine, instead of a human being? Does she cry in pain or joy?
"We steal shamelessly from everybody and everywhere that has good training programs."
What about homebirths and midwifery where training is hands-on, personal, and the outcomes are statistically better than medicated births?
But I guess if you're going for the whole "patients aren't people, they are statistics" thing, then a robot probably will do wonders for you.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Update on my life
Okay, so how do I sum it all up and yet convey all that has gone on in a couple of weeks?
We got our puppy, Boomer. After the first week I went nuts with trying to get him outdoors every 10 minutes (which is how often he peed, being only 7 1/2 weeks old) and stopping him from chewing everything in site. So Boom built an outdoor pen for him, big enough to run around in and chew things, etc, where I can put him if it's nice out when I need a couple hours to clean or something. He was carte trained on his own after night one, and was sleeping pretty much 6 hours straight until we had a bout of the runs for a little over a week which I just cleared up with a "chicken & rice" remedy (boiled chicken with rice...they like it, it worked!) He's learning to go to the door when he needs to go out, and he only goes every half hour at most, or every hour or something. With the weather being so nice we stay outside as much as possible.
He's also learning "Come" and to lick instead of bite me, though we have to work on Boom since he seems to like chewing into him pretty good. And we even took our first walk today, leash and new surroundings and all, unless you count the playground out back, where we have gone a few times now.
I won second place (out of many, actually, thank-you-very-much) in an essay contest for our local library system, receiving a $25 gift certificate to Walden books (much preferred over the first place prize of $100 savings bond.) I decided to car pool with the first place winner who is also from my town and I made a new friend!
Long story short, her hubby had an Art League meeting same night across the street from the awards, and so we met him there afterwards, and I got to meet the lady in charge of the Art League, who it turns out is a sculpture, who uses clay, and she told me about this clay supply place not even 25 minutes from our house!!!!
It's not listed in the Yellow Pages or online, so I had NO IDEA that it existed. I can now buy my clay (which comes in 50 lbs minimum quantities) without having to pay tons of shipping, and they can order anything I want! And they have all the tools I'd need! YEAH!!!!!!!!!
So I bought one small tool, goggles to peer in at the cones during firing (like welder's goggles) and some oven-mitts that are fire proof or whatever so you can touch the kiln during firing without loosing your hand.
I also went to the Awana Games two weekends ago and the kids loved it. I DID enjoy it, actually, I just wish the politics sometimes were different (within our own church, that is...)
And I was reminiscing the other day about marching band (I was a colorguard for my Junior & Senior years) as I was French braiding my own hair, which I learned out of necessity for marching band. My hair had to be braided while wet, so I couldn't have someone else do it all the time, and it wasn't really that bad; I can even do double braids.
But boy, I loved marching. I gave it my all, every time. We were good, too, for the most part. And I miss good marching bands. Our local high school just doesn't cut it these days, and I hope that someday they improve so I can look forward to half-time again. We didn't just marched, we PERFORMED. And we had VERY high standards. No lazy marching would do for us...no-sir-ee. We held our FEET - TOGETHER!! SHOULDERS - BACK!! BUTT - IN!! CHIN - HELD HIGH!! EYES - WITH PRIDE!! EYES - WITH PRIDE!! And I LOVED it!
So anyway, things are looking up with Spring. Went on a walk today, though it rained just then, but the sun came out before we were done and dried us off. It's good with Spring in the air again.
Now if only I could get that kiln operating....
We got our puppy, Boomer. After the first week I went nuts with trying to get him outdoors every 10 minutes (which is how often he peed, being only 7 1/2 weeks old) and stopping him from chewing everything in site. So Boom built an outdoor pen for him, big enough to run around in and chew things, etc, where I can put him if it's nice out when I need a couple hours to clean or something. He was carte trained on his own after night one, and was sleeping pretty much 6 hours straight until we had a bout of the runs for a little over a week which I just cleared up with a "chicken & rice" remedy (boiled chicken with rice...they like it, it worked!) He's learning to go to the door when he needs to go out, and he only goes every half hour at most, or every hour or something. With the weather being so nice we stay outside as much as possible.
He's also learning "Come" and to lick instead of bite me, though we have to work on Boom since he seems to like chewing into him pretty good. And we even took our first walk today, leash and new surroundings and all, unless you count the playground out back, where we have gone a few times now.
I won second place (out of many, actually, thank-you-very-much) in an essay contest for our local library system, receiving a $25 gift certificate to Walden books (much preferred over the first place prize of $100 savings bond.) I decided to car pool with the first place winner who is also from my town and I made a new friend!
Long story short, her hubby had an Art League meeting same night across the street from the awards, and so we met him there afterwards, and I got to meet the lady in charge of the Art League, who it turns out is a sculpture, who uses clay, and she told me about this clay supply place not even 25 minutes from our house!!!!
It's not listed in the Yellow Pages or online, so I had NO IDEA that it existed. I can now buy my clay (which comes in 50 lbs minimum quantities) without having to pay tons of shipping, and they can order anything I want! And they have all the tools I'd need! YEAH!!!!!!!!!
So I bought one small tool, goggles to peer in at the cones during firing (like welder's goggles) and some oven-mitts that are fire proof or whatever so you can touch the kiln during firing without loosing your hand.
I also went to the Awana Games two weekends ago and the kids loved it. I DID enjoy it, actually, I just wish the politics sometimes were different (within our own church, that is...)
And I was reminiscing the other day about marching band (I was a colorguard for my Junior & Senior years) as I was French braiding my own hair, which I learned out of necessity for marching band. My hair had to be braided while wet, so I couldn't have someone else do it all the time, and it wasn't really that bad; I can even do double braids.
But boy, I loved marching. I gave it my all, every time. We were good, too, for the most part. And I miss good marching bands. Our local high school just doesn't cut it these days, and I hope that someday they improve so I can look forward to half-time again. We didn't just marched, we PERFORMED. And we had VERY high standards. No lazy marching would do for us...no-sir-ee. We held our FEET - TOGETHER!! SHOULDERS - BACK!! BUTT - IN!! CHIN - HELD HIGH!! EYES - WITH PRIDE!! EYES - WITH PRIDE!! And I LOVED it!
So anyway, things are looking up with Spring. Went on a walk today, though it rained just then, but the sun came out before we were done and dried us off. It's good with Spring in the air again.
Now if only I could get that kiln operating....
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Picture of my Elephant Mug
The recipient loved it, though her young daughter loved it more and claimed it for her own :) I was quite proud of it being my first mug!
This is the mug I received in the exchange:
This is the mug I received in the exchange:
Wonder what Dreams Are Made Of
This week I have been daydreaming. A lot. Sometimes I dream about doing something really cool and everyone liking me, or I daydream about my kids and our unschooling and how fun it will be to learn and the places we'll go and the things we'll experiment with...sometimes I daydream about having friends.
This week I dreamed about Ocarinas. Not just ocarinas. MY ocarinas. On sale at craft tables where all the kids are gathered to see the cool pendant ocarinas I'll have. And not just ocarinas, but mugs and plates and bowls and candle holders and tart burners and sculptures and....
You get the idea. It's so far from reality right now that I really should stop daydreaming. But I can't help it. To be good at someone and have someone recognize that fact and appreciate it...who can help but to want that feeling?
I don't even have a kiln hooked up yet. And my "studio" is more like a play-doh work station. And I don't have a wheel made yet. But the dreams still persist.
Today I had practice for Awana Games. I'm the coach, mostly by necessity and the fact that a year ago I said I'd HELP with games and was asked to head it up (which I hated, by the way, and would have quit if not for my people-pleasing guilt factor.) So this year we are going to the olympics so to speak, and we aren't very good, to put it mildly. I don't want to be the coach. Never have. I like kids, don't get me wrong. But I only want to be in charge of something if I'm passionate about it. And frankly, I'm not passionate about Awana Games.
And yet, people keep telling my I'm doing a good job, and that the kids love Awana Games (they also like recess...it's not hard to please them in that regard.) And today one woman who meant very well told me I was born to be the Games Leader since I do such a good job. So much for trying to quit next year (the Awana Director who has been on vacation and will be another week was standing right there...and who is responsible for me being in this position, and whom I can't get to understand my point of view in certain things...)
Anyway, I seem to get recognized for being "good" at all the things I could care less about. In school it was grades. "Oh, you're so smart!" In the yearbooks it was "to a smart and nice girl." Nothing about cool, unique, fun, funny, pretty....just smart and nice. Whoop-di-do.....
So I can't help but to daydream about being good at something I want to do, ME, not anyone else telling me I should because "you'd be good at it." Not something I do because "no one else signed up." Not something I do because I volunteer to help and end up in charge. Something I do because it's fun. Because I enjoy the whole process. I don't count it as work, I count it as progress. Something that tells a story about me.
I wish being a mother fit that category. But truth is, I don't feel like a great mom. And people won't say, "Oh, that's so cool that you co-sleep, you can tell!" or "Your kids are so well adjusted, I bet it's because you unschooled them!"
And so I would like to have a hobby. A hobby I can share. To open myself up, possibly to disappointment.
But for now I can daydream. I can daydream that my work will be great. That people will line up to see the only potter in town...
At least the house is clean from my work yesterday, because with my head so far in the clouds I just don't feel like doing anything...
This week I dreamed about Ocarinas. Not just ocarinas. MY ocarinas. On sale at craft tables where all the kids are gathered to see the cool pendant ocarinas I'll have. And not just ocarinas, but mugs and plates and bowls and candle holders and tart burners and sculptures and....
You get the idea. It's so far from reality right now that I really should stop daydreaming. But I can't help it. To be good at someone and have someone recognize that fact and appreciate it...who can help but to want that feeling?
I don't even have a kiln hooked up yet. And my "studio" is more like a play-doh work station. And I don't have a wheel made yet. But the dreams still persist.
Today I had practice for Awana Games. I'm the coach, mostly by necessity and the fact that a year ago I said I'd HELP with games and was asked to head it up (which I hated, by the way, and would have quit if not for my people-pleasing guilt factor.) So this year we are going to the olympics so to speak, and we aren't very good, to put it mildly. I don't want to be the coach. Never have. I like kids, don't get me wrong. But I only want to be in charge of something if I'm passionate about it. And frankly, I'm not passionate about Awana Games.
And yet, people keep telling my I'm doing a good job, and that the kids love Awana Games (they also like recess...it's not hard to please them in that regard.) And today one woman who meant very well told me I was born to be the Games Leader since I do such a good job. So much for trying to quit next year (the Awana Director who has been on vacation and will be another week was standing right there...and who is responsible for me being in this position, and whom I can't get to understand my point of view in certain things...)
Anyway, I seem to get recognized for being "good" at all the things I could care less about. In school it was grades. "Oh, you're so smart!" In the yearbooks it was "to a smart and nice girl." Nothing about cool, unique, fun, funny, pretty....just smart and nice. Whoop-di-do.....
So I can't help but to daydream about being good at something I want to do, ME, not anyone else telling me I should because "you'd be good at it." Not something I do because "no one else signed up." Not something I do because I volunteer to help and end up in charge. Something I do because it's fun. Because I enjoy the whole process. I don't count it as work, I count it as progress. Something that tells a story about me.
I wish being a mother fit that category. But truth is, I don't feel like a great mom. And people won't say, "Oh, that's so cool that you co-sleep, you can tell!" or "Your kids are so well adjusted, I bet it's because you unschooled them!"
And so I would like to have a hobby. A hobby I can share. To open myself up, possibly to disappointment.
But for now I can daydream. I can daydream that my work will be great. That people will line up to see the only potter in town...
At least the house is clean from my work yesterday, because with my head so far in the clouds I just don't feel like doing anything...
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Learning to be Content
I find that right now, at this point in my life, I am learning to be content. Truly. I have a wonderful husband, two beautiful, healthy children, I have a good-sized house, we just bought a used 11-year old van, and we are getting a new lab puppy next week. I have a hobby I'm loving, Boom has a job he loves most of the time, and I'm actually feeling at home in this area.
And yet on days like these it all comes down again. I hate how hormones can control me so easily. Last week my son was fussy every night until I finally knew we needed a doctor and found both an ear infection and some pneumonia. Then my daughter starts up with croup. I missed church Wednesday and Sunday feeling guilty as anything. But I was still content. I was glad for the things I had and happy about our lives.
Until today. Today my kids were happy and playful. The sun was out. I relaxed most of the day. But I feel down. Depressed. Worthless. Like I'll never be successful at my hobby - I don't even deserve to play with play-doh. That I'm a horrible mother who can't get my daughter to eat healthy food anymore and I'm not exactly the best example setter in that arena. I can't stand Rugger nursing to sleep many times because it's just irritating now. And worse, yesterday I actually felt I had a better time at Apples of Gold, opening up some more and being assured that I was accepted. But now I feel that I used it too much for my own selfish therapy. That I'm going to be dreaded for company because all I ever talk about is me.
And it's true. I'm so darned desperate for company that when I get ANYONE to listen, I go on and on and on. And I can't stop. Or if I do, I come home and get depressed.
But if today wasn't today, and if I wasn't in that week before womanhood makes it's appearance, then I'm pretty sure I'd be feeling fine today. Because it was sunny out. And I have a wonderful husband, two great kids, a house, income, a "new" mini van, and a dog on the way.
And what more could I really need?
And yet on days like these it all comes down again. I hate how hormones can control me so easily. Last week my son was fussy every night until I finally knew we needed a doctor and found both an ear infection and some pneumonia. Then my daughter starts up with croup. I missed church Wednesday and Sunday feeling guilty as anything. But I was still content. I was glad for the things I had and happy about our lives.
Until today. Today my kids were happy and playful. The sun was out. I relaxed most of the day. But I feel down. Depressed. Worthless. Like I'll never be successful at my hobby - I don't even deserve to play with play-doh. That I'm a horrible mother who can't get my daughter to eat healthy food anymore and I'm not exactly the best example setter in that arena. I can't stand Rugger nursing to sleep many times because it's just irritating now. And worse, yesterday I actually felt I had a better time at Apples of Gold, opening up some more and being assured that I was accepted. But now I feel that I used it too much for my own selfish therapy. That I'm going to be dreaded for company because all I ever talk about is me.
And it's true. I'm so darned desperate for company that when I get ANYONE to listen, I go on and on and on. And I can't stop. Or if I do, I come home and get depressed.
But if today wasn't today, and if I wasn't in that week before womanhood makes it's appearance, then I'm pretty sure I'd be feeling fine today. Because it was sunny out. And I have a wonderful husband, two great kids, a house, income, a "new" mini van, and a dog on the way.
And what more could I really need?
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Some Signs You Have A Male Toddler In Your House
1. You are constantly cleaning your furniture to remove the smeared banana, spaghetti, catsup and any other food that you've eaten lately. (I know, I need to contain eating to the kitchen. I know.)
2. You are constantly putting away small knives, screws, fingernail clippers and other items that might be weapons in small hands, even though you have no idea where said items were found.
3. Every time you walk away after putting in a DVD for your 3 yr. old, you end up having to start all over because "someone" opened the display door and pushed the "open" button, AGAIN. After 5 times of finding the spot in the movie where it was stopped, this gets pretty old. Especially when you're in the middle of doing dishes, or cleaning, which may not happen often, and now you know why.
4. You find an apple sitting in the detergent compartment of your dishwasher. Harmless, actually, but quite revealing regarding how your child thinks. Obviously the dishwasher IS a toy, after all. It cleans about as good as one, which is why I attempt to wash dishes during DVD viewing.
5. You hear what you think is someone rolling up the toilet paper while you are in the shower. After all, while you are sitting on the potty both children frequently visit you and roll up said roll. However, upon exiting the shower you notice there IS no toilet paper, though you are SURE you didn't use it all up. Confusion ceases upon entering living room where a trail of toilet paper ends in a pile of chocolate-smeared toilet paper. Why you didn't THINK before leaving the ice cream in their possession while showering is beyond you, but apparently your boy has enough sense to find something to clean up with....
2. You are constantly putting away small knives, screws, fingernail clippers and other items that might be weapons in small hands, even though you have no idea where said items were found.
3. Every time you walk away after putting in a DVD for your 3 yr. old, you end up having to start all over because "someone" opened the display door and pushed the "open" button, AGAIN. After 5 times of finding the spot in the movie where it was stopped, this gets pretty old. Especially when you're in the middle of doing dishes, or cleaning, which may not happen often, and now you know why.
4. You find an apple sitting in the detergent compartment of your dishwasher. Harmless, actually, but quite revealing regarding how your child thinks. Obviously the dishwasher IS a toy, after all. It cleans about as good as one, which is why I attempt to wash dishes during DVD viewing.
5. You hear what you think is someone rolling up the toilet paper while you are in the shower. After all, while you are sitting on the potty both children frequently visit you and roll up said roll. However, upon exiting the shower you notice there IS no toilet paper, though you are SURE you didn't use it all up. Confusion ceases upon entering living room where a trail of toilet paper ends in a pile of chocolate-smeared toilet paper. Why you didn't THINK before leaving the ice cream in their possession while showering is beyond you, but apparently your boy has enough sense to find something to clean up with....
Ode to Dirt Roads
Anyone who comments about dirt roads being scenic and a necessary part of country life hasn't driven on them as much as I have.
Now, for some reason Boom used to actually LIKE the dirt roads. We used to visit here from Pittsburgh and he would lighten up like a school boy when we hit the dirt. I'm sure a lot of it was because it sparked memories of his high school life of speeding and getting stuck in ditches, and of baw-hawing through fields, and of cows in the road, and other fun things like that.
But now, he knows better. He knows dirt roads aren't kind to your body as you jolt every joint and all your organs flop around inside of you. He knows dirt roads aren't kind to your car, which needs replaced almost yearly due to the wear and tear caused by the stupid roads, and I know that I'd rather pay those mile-high taxes that New York state has because the minute you hit their state you know by the smooth pavement and easy driving.
For those of you who don't have the luxury of driving frequently on dirt roads, I'll tell you all about them.
First off, dirt roads are DIRTY. Or, more accurately, they are dusty. In the middle of summer you can see a car go by a mile away due to the huge cloud of dust that comes up off the road. I'm surprised there's any road left by the amount of dust that leaves and blows inevitably towards your home and fills your house with dust so much so that you probably consume more dust than the average vacuum cleaner. Your car is also covered in dust because of course you don't have air conditioning and thus the windows are open to help you bare the high humidity, and you no longer remember the color of your dashboard due to the thickness of the brown dust. In fact, scientists would probably date your car to be from around the Crustacean period based on the layer of dust found in the back of you car.
Second, when dirt roads AREN'T dusty, it's because they have been covered with oil, or doused with rain, each of which carry their unique properties into your home.
For some reason, instead of paving, we country folks have this bright idea that in order to calm the dust in front of houses, we'll just pour a lot of old, yucky, good-for-nothing oil on the road. Now, what's amazing about this is that I really don't see any point to this. They only pour the oil in front of the house, so when it's windy out (99.9% of the time on the dirt road I lived on) the dust from just before or just after the oil would blow up to the house, anyway.
And then there's the actual oil. Who hasn't been driving along on a nice Spring day when all of a sudden they see that tell tale black spot just ahead and they realize they can't slow down in time because the dirt isn't exactly a swell spot of friction, and so they end up skidding right into the oil spot causing oil to splat upon most of the car and surroundings. Boom used to joke that it was the cheap way to coat his underside of the car, but the truth is that it would be coated whether or not you want it to be. And chances are, it will be more than coated, it will splatter all over the car, creating a brown car (from the dust) with black spots. Of course, as soon as you are off the oil you are driving through loose dust again, which is attracted to the fresh oil like the flies to a hot summer day.
But that's not all. There's more. When not dusty, and when not oily, the roads are inevitably muddy. Now, that may not sound all that horrible, but that's because you've never had to try steering a car (or worse, a rear-wheel drive vehicle) through this stuff. It's like hydroplaning through pudding. You are swerving and sliding and falling off the road, which would fun if you were in an arena with monster trucks and lots of cheering. But you're not. You're late for just about anything and know that the fast you drive the slower you'll get there.
And the equivalent of mud in the winter is slosh. Snow doesn't stay snow very long during a sunny day; it turns to mush. And driving in wet snow is basically as hard as driving in mud, with the added challenge of not being able to see where the edges of the road are, or if you're even ON the road anymore. Of course, sometimes you THINK there is slush on the road. But you're wrong. It's actually ice. Frozen slush, with hard ridges and gullies left by the tracks of all the previous travelers on this road - all three of you. So now you either try to follow the swerving tracks, or else drive in a straight line (how foolish!) and let your shocks get the workout of a lifetime over all the bumps.
But again, that's not all. Because in every season, or at least until they grate the road (grate means they loosen up all the dirt so it's dustier and VERY loose to drive on, making even the most experience drivers lose control,) there will be pot holes. And I'm not talking about one pot hole every mile or so. No, I'm talking pot holes that make Swiss Cheese look solid. Trying to avoid the holes will only make you hit more of them at all the wrong angles, and sometimes you wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just drive through the field, after all. Forget trying to lull Junior to sleep in the back seat. You're more likely to need a chiropractor after your journey's over. Except that on the way HOME from the chiropractor, you'd bounce everything out of place again.
And to make it even more fun, when it's snowcovered, the pot holes are completely hidden, making for a most interesting adventure.
And that's the adventure I had yesterday as I drove to a new friend's house. For friend I now hope she is. She started coming to church a few weeks ago, and doesn't have a churched background. But she IS crunchy (as in granola, as in she is more natural-oriented, like myself!) and we have VERY uncanny-how-they're-alike mother-in-laws.
So I guess it was worth the dirt road if I made a new friend. Of course, she lives JUST across the PA/NY border, so that you know you are at her driveway when you hit the blissful smoothness of pavement. Lucky girl...
Now, for some reason Boom used to actually LIKE the dirt roads. We used to visit here from Pittsburgh and he would lighten up like a school boy when we hit the dirt. I'm sure a lot of it was because it sparked memories of his high school life of speeding and getting stuck in ditches, and of baw-hawing through fields, and of cows in the road, and other fun things like that.
But now, he knows better. He knows dirt roads aren't kind to your body as you jolt every joint and all your organs flop around inside of you. He knows dirt roads aren't kind to your car, which needs replaced almost yearly due to the wear and tear caused by the stupid roads, and I know that I'd rather pay those mile-high taxes that New York state has because the minute you hit their state you know by the smooth pavement and easy driving.
For those of you who don't have the luxury of driving frequently on dirt roads, I'll tell you all about them.
First off, dirt roads are DIRTY. Or, more accurately, they are dusty. In the middle of summer you can see a car go by a mile away due to the huge cloud of dust that comes up off the road. I'm surprised there's any road left by the amount of dust that leaves and blows inevitably towards your home and fills your house with dust so much so that you probably consume more dust than the average vacuum cleaner. Your car is also covered in dust because of course you don't have air conditioning and thus the windows are open to help you bare the high humidity, and you no longer remember the color of your dashboard due to the thickness of the brown dust. In fact, scientists would probably date your car to be from around the Crustacean period based on the layer of dust found in the back of you car.
Second, when dirt roads AREN'T dusty, it's because they have been covered with oil, or doused with rain, each of which carry their unique properties into your home.
For some reason, instead of paving, we country folks have this bright idea that in order to calm the dust in front of houses, we'll just pour a lot of old, yucky, good-for-nothing oil on the road. Now, what's amazing about this is that I really don't see any point to this. They only pour the oil in front of the house, so when it's windy out (99.9% of the time on the dirt road I lived on) the dust from just before or just after the oil would blow up to the house, anyway.
And then there's the actual oil. Who hasn't been driving along on a nice Spring day when all of a sudden they see that tell tale black spot just ahead and they realize they can't slow down in time because the dirt isn't exactly a swell spot of friction, and so they end up skidding right into the oil spot causing oil to splat upon most of the car and surroundings. Boom used to joke that it was the cheap way to coat his underside of the car, but the truth is that it would be coated whether or not you want it to be. And chances are, it will be more than coated, it will splatter all over the car, creating a brown car (from the dust) with black spots. Of course, as soon as you are off the oil you are driving through loose dust again, which is attracted to the fresh oil like the flies to a hot summer day.
But that's not all. There's more. When not dusty, and when not oily, the roads are inevitably muddy. Now, that may not sound all that horrible, but that's because you've never had to try steering a car (or worse, a rear-wheel drive vehicle) through this stuff. It's like hydroplaning through pudding. You are swerving and sliding and falling off the road, which would fun if you were in an arena with monster trucks and lots of cheering. But you're not. You're late for just about anything and know that the fast you drive the slower you'll get there.
And the equivalent of mud in the winter is slosh. Snow doesn't stay snow very long during a sunny day; it turns to mush. And driving in wet snow is basically as hard as driving in mud, with the added challenge of not being able to see where the edges of the road are, or if you're even ON the road anymore. Of course, sometimes you THINK there is slush on the road. But you're wrong. It's actually ice. Frozen slush, with hard ridges and gullies left by the tracks of all the previous travelers on this road - all three of you. So now you either try to follow the swerving tracks, or else drive in a straight line (how foolish!) and let your shocks get the workout of a lifetime over all the bumps.
But again, that's not all. Because in every season, or at least until they grate the road (grate means they loosen up all the dirt so it's dustier and VERY loose to drive on, making even the most experience drivers lose control,) there will be pot holes. And I'm not talking about one pot hole every mile or so. No, I'm talking pot holes that make Swiss Cheese look solid. Trying to avoid the holes will only make you hit more of them at all the wrong angles, and sometimes you wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just drive through the field, after all. Forget trying to lull Junior to sleep in the back seat. You're more likely to need a chiropractor after your journey's over. Except that on the way HOME from the chiropractor, you'd bounce everything out of place again.
And to make it even more fun, when it's snowcovered, the pot holes are completely hidden, making for a most interesting adventure.
And that's the adventure I had yesterday as I drove to a new friend's house. For friend I now hope she is. She started coming to church a few weeks ago, and doesn't have a churched background. But she IS crunchy (as in granola, as in she is more natural-oriented, like myself!) and we have VERY uncanny-how-they're-alike mother-in-laws.
So I guess it was worth the dirt road if I made a new friend. Of course, she lives JUST across the PA/NY border, so that you know you are at her driveway when you hit the blissful smoothness of pavement. Lucky girl...
Snow Day and a Birthday
I'm behind a few days, so you'll have to excuse me for writing many blogs in one day.
A week ago today we had a snow day and Boom got to stay home. Most of the day he worked on the attic (which is looking SOO nice!) but then he also went to the store for some supplies. Well, when he got back he asked if I wanted to open my birthday present, because, "let's face it. I bought your present today."
Now, my birthday wasn't until Saturday, but I've rarely opened my presents only on the actual day, so I told him it would be fine to open them, since Friday we'd be leaving for Ohio for the weekend and that way I could open his presents with just OUR family.
So then he started hinting that what he got he thought I'd really like, since he looked at my wish list (something I started so I could remember when birthday's and Christmas came what I'd like, since usually I can't remember.) Anyway, he said it was NOT on my list, but something similar.
Well, I admit, I was a tad worried. You see, Boom always tries to get me something I'll like. And being the gift lover I am, I always hope he can get something that says "ME" and not just something that would be nice, but says nothing about who I am. So I was anxious to see what exactly he picked that WASN'T on my list, but he thought I'd like, anyway.
And then I told him all about the wonders of on-line shopping so he could get things cheaper, and the exact thing I want, and long before the actual day, and all without leaving the house. But he's old-fashioned that way. I think he likes to SEE what he's picking out.
So as I put away clothes, he starts wrapping my gift (he asked if I wanted it wrapped, and since most of his gifts have NOT been due to the way he forgets things, I said, "yes"), and he uses the Sports motif wrapping paper, giving me a sly look....
So a few minutes later we're watching Survivor and he asked if I was ready to open it. I had actually forgotten, again, that I had a gift to open, and I was now excited to see what the secret was. As I read the card, Boom again was being his goofy, sly self and wrote, "To the biggest sports nut I know" which of course I am anything but, so I didn't know if he was playing a mental game with me (his favorite type of game) or if he actually got me something sports related.
See, that's the thing. I honestly can't tell sometimes when Boom is kidding me, or being real. Which makes me feel like I don't really know him, but he admits that he is strange and likes to fool people, so he can't blame me for the times I misunderstand him. Most of the time I know deep down inside, but there's the always the part of the that admits the possibility of what he's saying could be true.
So as I open the gift, he got me one thing that WAS on my list - the Tarzan animated soundtrack, which I thought about after watching Tarzan again, and then realizing as I searched that it was Phil Collins who wrote the music, etc.
And then the second part of the gift....
He got me the whole single season series of "The Lone Gunman," a show that aired on Fox and was about conspiracy theories and goofy nerdy guys, and a sleek woman who was always a step ahead of them. I loved it!
He later explained that he had wanted to get me the Monk series, from the cable series, but that it was even more than the Lord of the Rings movies that I also want, so then he saw the Lone Gunman series, and though also expensive it was more affordable, and he knew I had liked the show, and so he got that.
And I think it's the best gift I've gotten from him :)
I also got several gifts from my parents and sis, and got to see my other best friend from high school who stayed for my dinner, and she had her soon-to-be-adopted little girl with her. I went shopping with my sister, where we had a great time, and my nephew is growing up very nicely, and I went to Pat Catan's and got some hemp thread and beads to make a necklace or two, or an anklet, to go with my new hippy skirt and several tops that I treated myself to a could of weeks ago.
Then my nephew was dedicated on Sunday, and we ate Papa John's pizza before leaving for home again.
It was a fine birthday, indeed.
A week ago today we had a snow day and Boom got to stay home. Most of the day he worked on the attic (which is looking SOO nice!) but then he also went to the store for some supplies. Well, when he got back he asked if I wanted to open my birthday present, because, "let's face it. I bought your present today."
Now, my birthday wasn't until Saturday, but I've rarely opened my presents only on the actual day, so I told him it would be fine to open them, since Friday we'd be leaving for Ohio for the weekend and that way I could open his presents with just OUR family.
So then he started hinting that what he got he thought I'd really like, since he looked at my wish list (something I started so I could remember when birthday's and Christmas came what I'd like, since usually I can't remember.) Anyway, he said it was NOT on my list, but something similar.
Well, I admit, I was a tad worried. You see, Boom always tries to get me something I'll like. And being the gift lover I am, I always hope he can get something that says "ME" and not just something that would be nice, but says nothing about who I am. So I was anxious to see what exactly he picked that WASN'T on my list, but he thought I'd like, anyway.
And then I told him all about the wonders of on-line shopping so he could get things cheaper, and the exact thing I want, and long before the actual day, and all without leaving the house. But he's old-fashioned that way. I think he likes to SEE what he's picking out.
So as I put away clothes, he starts wrapping my gift (he asked if I wanted it wrapped, and since most of his gifts have NOT been due to the way he forgets things, I said, "yes"), and he uses the Sports motif wrapping paper, giving me a sly look....
So a few minutes later we're watching Survivor and he asked if I was ready to open it. I had actually forgotten, again, that I had a gift to open, and I was now excited to see what the secret was. As I read the card, Boom again was being his goofy, sly self and wrote, "To the biggest sports nut I know" which of course I am anything but, so I didn't know if he was playing a mental game with me (his favorite type of game) or if he actually got me something sports related.
See, that's the thing. I honestly can't tell sometimes when Boom is kidding me, or being real. Which makes me feel like I don't really know him, but he admits that he is strange and likes to fool people, so he can't blame me for the times I misunderstand him. Most of the time I know deep down inside, but there's the always the part of the that admits the possibility of what he's saying could be true.
So as I open the gift, he got me one thing that WAS on my list - the Tarzan animated soundtrack, which I thought about after watching Tarzan again, and then realizing as I searched that it was Phil Collins who wrote the music, etc.
And then the second part of the gift....
He got me the whole single season series of "The Lone Gunman," a show that aired on Fox and was about conspiracy theories and goofy nerdy guys, and a sleek woman who was always a step ahead of them. I loved it!
He later explained that he had wanted to get me the Monk series, from the cable series, but that it was even more than the Lord of the Rings movies that I also want, so then he saw the Lone Gunman series, and though also expensive it was more affordable, and he knew I had liked the show, and so he got that.
And I think it's the best gift I've gotten from him :)
I also got several gifts from my parents and sis, and got to see my other best friend from high school who stayed for my dinner, and she had her soon-to-be-adopted little girl with her. I went shopping with my sister, where we had a great time, and my nephew is growing up very nicely, and I went to Pat Catan's and got some hemp thread and beads to make a necklace or two, or an anklet, to go with my new hippy skirt and several tops that I treated myself to a could of weeks ago.
Then my nephew was dedicated on Sunday, and we ate Papa John's pizza before leaving for home again.
It was a fine birthday, indeed.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Finding Myself in the Most Unlikely Places
I don't usually post twice in a day. But since I haven't kept up with posting daily, anyway, I might as well post twice in a day when I can.
Tonight was the salve for my angst earlier. I had our monthly book discussion group tonight.
We talked about our pathetic county and economics, about the school situation that is boiling right now, about Walmart moving in, about a private joke that I now own from a former club meeting, and yes, we even talked about the book some :)
You see, even though some of the books are books that I'm not sure I should be reading, truth be told there are movies the equivalent which I have seen, so I guess I can't be too harsh on myself. But what I've found is that I actually have a home here in the library club. A place where people are getting to know the "real" ME. I feel odd saying my pseudonym, but for sake of, people of getting to know Prism again. The Prism that people knew in high school and college. The one hiding behind the face of "Pumpkin's Mom" and "the coach's Wife." The Prism that I feel comfortable with.
I love the fact that there is a private joke relating to me in this groups, slightly off-color and embarrassing though it may be. It's mine, and it fits me, and I'm glad. It makes me feel part of something. Everyone in this group thinks of me on a regular basis because of this joke. And I like that.
Not very often do I see these people in town, but when I do, I'm glad I know them. Most wouldn't fit into my "best friends" kind of person that I'd search out. We disagree on God, on economics, on politics, on which books to read, etc. But we all find a way to share our opinions in a kind way, often a humorous way. We share our interests and our personalities in an hour and a half. And I love it.
I feel part of this town, this community. I feel like "one of us." Most share my view and distaste of Warren, and I'm glad to know I'm not the only one choosing to live here and yet wondering why I'm living HERE. Or more accurately, why HERE can't be like other places, since it's not so bad otherwise.
And I even met another Christian there tonight. She came for the first time. She's a pastor's wife with two very young children. So I'm hoping that maybe there will be something there. If not her, maybe someone she knows. But she seemed very understanding and I just opened up to her. My only regret is that I talk too much about myself in my desire to be known, and when normally I would shut up and listen I now keep going on in the hopes that a light bulb will go on in the other person's face and I'll know I've found that bosom friend.
I know that's not how it works, but as in my previous post, I'm just plain desperate.
But the most interesting thing to me is something I discovered when I was a kid. It was the very same thing that almost made me walk away from God, and I can't say that I don't feel the same pull at this time in my life.
At a time when it seems so hard to be a Christian and practice the things I want to practice. "Hippy" things, as I call them. Things that if I were NOT a Christian would be no problem for us as a family to carry out. There would be no criticism from people that meant anything to me. The only criticism I listen to is the kind that says I am not following God's Will or best, etc. If I wasn't a Christian, I wouldn't care what they thought, and I'd be fine following my heart.
At a time when I'm searching for my identity as a mother and wife and yet wanting to retain the original me, and no one seems to want to take the time to KNOW the original me....
I find that at a little library for and hour and a half each month, there's at least 5 other ladies who are getting to know me. And not just KNOW me, but appreciate me. ME. ALL of me. They don't make fun of me. They laugh WITH me. They like me.
And as I compare the time I had earlier, in which I do believe the ladies like me, I find that of the two, the one where I feel ACCEPTED at is in a group where only 2 at most would I call true believers (all of them attend church, I believe.) And yet they accept me and make me feel welcome, come all.
Whereas at church I feel parts of me are not so welcome. And this isn't the first. Growing up I always prayed for a good Christian friend, and instead I'd get lots of people who liked me, but didn't so much like my God. But they were there for me when the kids at church wouldn't include me. They were accepting of my quirkiness and humor and personality, and the church kids just thought I was a nerd and weird.
Why is it that all my life I've fit in more with the unsaved crowd, and that the saved crowd, the very one that is supposed to be a refuge, causes me to feel "odd" and "different." I'm always afraid to be MYSELF in front of them. Not so with the unsaved. They don't judge because they don't have a standard to live up to.
Not that they don't judge ever, or that they accept everything and everybody. But in general I find they are more open to being who you are, and Christians still seem to have an idea of what you are supposed to BE.
And maybe I'm reading it wrong, but as Dr. Phil says, it's the feelings that count. If you are feeling a certain way, even if it's not true, you need to do something so that you don't feel that way anymore. In a marriage, for example, if a wife FEELS that her hubby isn't spending enough time, but he knows he's sacrificing as it is...it doesn't matter. She doesn't FEEL that it's enough, so he needs to do something to show her how much she means. He doesn't even necessarily have to spend MORE time with her, but maybe make the time spent more quality. Or do something special each week that won't be interrupted, etc.
And so even if the ladies at church DO accept me, the truth of the matter is that I don't FEEL accepted. I don't feel the same acceptance that I get from the library group. The library group WANTS me there, they invite me to their homes. Not so with the church group.
And I still wonder, "WHY???"
Why, when I'm doubting my faith and questioning my God, do the people who don't know Him welcome me with open arms, and the people who claim to follow Him more or less "let" me in?
And if it weren't for God speaking rather clearly to me ONCE in my life as a teenager, and if it weren't for my husband who turned to God later in life and I respect that he is not stupid, then I'd be more than doubting right now. I'd be long gone.
And I hate saying that. But it's where I am right now. I feel like Gideon and throwing out the fleece once again. But even though God answered Gideon more than once, I don't know that He'd do it for me. Of course, I wasn't so sure He'd do it the first time, either.....
One of the darkest points in my life, maybe actually the darkest, truthfully, was when I was a freshman in high school. Our church was having a youth convention with another church (at our church) and we had signed up for a couple girls to spend the night at our house. Well, that night the preacher was great, but when he started saying prophetic (actually, it's wasn't prophetic, it was more that he spoke about them, that God was speaking to them through him, but I can't remember what this is called) words about different people, and I so desperately wished God would speak about me. But He didn't.
And as I went to bed that night, I just cried. All my life I had been in a Christian school and at church, and no one had befriended me. And my first few months in a public school and I had lots of friends and everyone seemed to like me. And I thought, if this is the way God takes care of His people, I don't want anything to do with it. And I thought of the people who He had talked to that night, and I basically told God that I wanted Him to touch ME, too. I knew He was real because there was too much evidence for me to believe otherwise. But I didn't think he knew *I* existed. So if He didn't touch ME, personally, then that was it. I'd rather go to hell. What was the point? Why serve a God who didn't know I existed? So my last prayer as I fell to sleep was, "God, touch me."
Next day I was numb. No feelings. No hurt. I was empty and uncaring. I had walked away from God and didn't know what my life would be like, but I didn't care. I hadn't read the papers we were sent home with, which ending up being a twist on the Velvetine Rabbit story. I didn't know the story talked about a rabbit who received a touch from God.
But as the pastor spoke that day, it was as if God was confirming that He had heard me. Without me seeing that paper, He had prepared the talk for that day to be about "touch," the same word I had used. I was in awe and very nervous. When he started to pray, he mentioned that two types of people where there that day, I can't remember what the first group was, but the second was, "and those who need a touch from God."
I had never gone to the alter before. I got saved when I was 5 and didn't care about being in front of people. So I was afraid of what people would think of the Good Two Shoes going to get prayed for. But I knew I had to go, so I did.
I was the first person the pastor prayed for. And since at that time I hadn't been tarnished by over-emotional churches who insist that one must fall over to receive the Holy Spirit, I was not alarmed when I felt a pushing on my forehead. I didn't think about falling over or anything, I just thought he was praying hard and fervently for me. To this day, I'm not sure if he was even touching me, but if not, then that was the only time in my life that I honestly felt the power of God in a physical sense, and since I DO believe that people can be slain (it happened to Saul/Paul), I believe He is able to touch us in that way. Just not as much as people make it to be.
Anyway, the only part of the prayer I remember is that he said that "God sees you. He knows you. ..........He will use your compassion for people to reach them." And of course I cried knowing that my God had actually heard me and loved me....
And I DO, or did, have compassion for people. I want to believe that was a true word from God. But I don't know how to use it when I can't even get people to meet with me.
Which brings me full circle and back in the same seat I was then. Friends that don't believe in God, and people who believe in God that aren't my TRUE friends. And this time I KNOW God knows me, so instead I'm just asking WHY?
Does He still have a plan? What is it? When will I know it? Why do I make friends more easily with these types of people? Am I too worldly? Am I supposed to be a light to them? What does that entail?
But for now, I will just be happy with the fun I had, the laughs I shared. The affirmation that Prism is a person people can like and want to be around. That I'm ME, and people like ME. And maybe, someday soon, hopefully, I'll understand why it's them and not the others. But for now, I'm happy I'm liked for being the person I still believe God made me to be.
Tonight was the salve for my angst earlier. I had our monthly book discussion group tonight.
We talked about our pathetic county and economics, about the school situation that is boiling right now, about Walmart moving in, about a private joke that I now own from a former club meeting, and yes, we even talked about the book some :)
You see, even though some of the books are books that I'm not sure I should be reading, truth be told there are movies the equivalent which I have seen, so I guess I can't be too harsh on myself. But what I've found is that I actually have a home here in the library club. A place where people are getting to know the "real" ME. I feel odd saying my pseudonym, but for sake of, people of getting to know Prism again. The Prism that people knew in high school and college. The one hiding behind the face of "Pumpkin's Mom" and "the coach's Wife." The Prism that I feel comfortable with.
I love the fact that there is a private joke relating to me in this groups, slightly off-color and embarrassing though it may be. It's mine, and it fits me, and I'm glad. It makes me feel part of something. Everyone in this group thinks of me on a regular basis because of this joke. And I like that.
Not very often do I see these people in town, but when I do, I'm glad I know them. Most wouldn't fit into my "best friends" kind of person that I'd search out. We disagree on God, on economics, on politics, on which books to read, etc. But we all find a way to share our opinions in a kind way, often a humorous way. We share our interests and our personalities in an hour and a half. And I love it.
I feel part of this town, this community. I feel like "one of us." Most share my view and distaste of Warren, and I'm glad to know I'm not the only one choosing to live here and yet wondering why I'm living HERE. Or more accurately, why HERE can't be like other places, since it's not so bad otherwise.
And I even met another Christian there tonight. She came for the first time. She's a pastor's wife with two very young children. So I'm hoping that maybe there will be something there. If not her, maybe someone she knows. But she seemed very understanding and I just opened up to her. My only regret is that I talk too much about myself in my desire to be known, and when normally I would shut up and listen I now keep going on in the hopes that a light bulb will go on in the other person's face and I'll know I've found that bosom friend.
I know that's not how it works, but as in my previous post, I'm just plain desperate.
But the most interesting thing to me is something I discovered when I was a kid. It was the very same thing that almost made me walk away from God, and I can't say that I don't feel the same pull at this time in my life.
At a time when it seems so hard to be a Christian and practice the things I want to practice. "Hippy" things, as I call them. Things that if I were NOT a Christian would be no problem for us as a family to carry out. There would be no criticism from people that meant anything to me. The only criticism I listen to is the kind that says I am not following God's Will or best, etc. If I wasn't a Christian, I wouldn't care what they thought, and I'd be fine following my heart.
At a time when I'm searching for my identity as a mother and wife and yet wanting to retain the original me, and no one seems to want to take the time to KNOW the original me....
I find that at a little library for and hour and a half each month, there's at least 5 other ladies who are getting to know me. And not just KNOW me, but appreciate me. ME. ALL of me. They don't make fun of me. They laugh WITH me. They like me.
And as I compare the time I had earlier, in which I do believe the ladies like me, I find that of the two, the one where I feel ACCEPTED at is in a group where only 2 at most would I call true believers (all of them attend church, I believe.) And yet they accept me and make me feel welcome, come all.
Whereas at church I feel parts of me are not so welcome. And this isn't the first. Growing up I always prayed for a good Christian friend, and instead I'd get lots of people who liked me, but didn't so much like my God. But they were there for me when the kids at church wouldn't include me. They were accepting of my quirkiness and humor and personality, and the church kids just thought I was a nerd and weird.
Why is it that all my life I've fit in more with the unsaved crowd, and that the saved crowd, the very one that is supposed to be a refuge, causes me to feel "odd" and "different." I'm always afraid to be MYSELF in front of them. Not so with the unsaved. They don't judge because they don't have a standard to live up to.
Not that they don't judge ever, or that they accept everything and everybody. But in general I find they are more open to being who you are, and Christians still seem to have an idea of what you are supposed to BE.
And maybe I'm reading it wrong, but as Dr. Phil says, it's the feelings that count. If you are feeling a certain way, even if it's not true, you need to do something so that you don't feel that way anymore. In a marriage, for example, if a wife FEELS that her hubby isn't spending enough time, but he knows he's sacrificing as it is...it doesn't matter. She doesn't FEEL that it's enough, so he needs to do something to show her how much she means. He doesn't even necessarily have to spend MORE time with her, but maybe make the time spent more quality. Or do something special each week that won't be interrupted, etc.
And so even if the ladies at church DO accept me, the truth of the matter is that I don't FEEL accepted. I don't feel the same acceptance that I get from the library group. The library group WANTS me there, they invite me to their homes. Not so with the church group.
And I still wonder, "WHY???"
Why, when I'm doubting my faith and questioning my God, do the people who don't know Him welcome me with open arms, and the people who claim to follow Him more or less "let" me in?
And if it weren't for God speaking rather clearly to me ONCE in my life as a teenager, and if it weren't for my husband who turned to God later in life and I respect that he is not stupid, then I'd be more than doubting right now. I'd be long gone.
And I hate saying that. But it's where I am right now. I feel like Gideon and throwing out the fleece once again. But even though God answered Gideon more than once, I don't know that He'd do it for me. Of course, I wasn't so sure He'd do it the first time, either.....
One of the darkest points in my life, maybe actually the darkest, truthfully, was when I was a freshman in high school. Our church was having a youth convention with another church (at our church) and we had signed up for a couple girls to spend the night at our house. Well, that night the preacher was great, but when he started saying prophetic (actually, it's wasn't prophetic, it was more that he spoke about them, that God was speaking to them through him, but I can't remember what this is called) words about different people, and I so desperately wished God would speak about me. But He didn't.
And as I went to bed that night, I just cried. All my life I had been in a Christian school and at church, and no one had befriended me. And my first few months in a public school and I had lots of friends and everyone seemed to like me. And I thought, if this is the way God takes care of His people, I don't want anything to do with it. And I thought of the people who He had talked to that night, and I basically told God that I wanted Him to touch ME, too. I knew He was real because there was too much evidence for me to believe otherwise. But I didn't think he knew *I* existed. So if He didn't touch ME, personally, then that was it. I'd rather go to hell. What was the point? Why serve a God who didn't know I existed? So my last prayer as I fell to sleep was, "God, touch me."
Next day I was numb. No feelings. No hurt. I was empty and uncaring. I had walked away from God and didn't know what my life would be like, but I didn't care. I hadn't read the papers we were sent home with, which ending up being a twist on the Velvetine Rabbit story. I didn't know the story talked about a rabbit who received a touch from God.
But as the pastor spoke that day, it was as if God was confirming that He had heard me. Without me seeing that paper, He had prepared the talk for that day to be about "touch," the same word I had used. I was in awe and very nervous. When he started to pray, he mentioned that two types of people where there that day, I can't remember what the first group was, but the second was, "and those who need a touch from God."
I had never gone to the alter before. I got saved when I was 5 and didn't care about being in front of people. So I was afraid of what people would think of the Good Two Shoes going to get prayed for. But I knew I had to go, so I did.
I was the first person the pastor prayed for. And since at that time I hadn't been tarnished by over-emotional churches who insist that one must fall over to receive the Holy Spirit, I was not alarmed when I felt a pushing on my forehead. I didn't think about falling over or anything, I just thought he was praying hard and fervently for me. To this day, I'm not sure if he was even touching me, but if not, then that was the only time in my life that I honestly felt the power of God in a physical sense, and since I DO believe that people can be slain (it happened to Saul/Paul), I believe He is able to touch us in that way. Just not as much as people make it to be.
Anyway, the only part of the prayer I remember is that he said that "God sees you. He knows you. ..........He will use your compassion for people to reach them." And of course I cried knowing that my God had actually heard me and loved me....
And I DO, or did, have compassion for people. I want to believe that was a true word from God. But I don't know how to use it when I can't even get people to meet with me.
Which brings me full circle and back in the same seat I was then. Friends that don't believe in God, and people who believe in God that aren't my TRUE friends. And this time I KNOW God knows me, so instead I'm just asking WHY?
Does He still have a plan? What is it? When will I know it? Why do I make friends more easily with these types of people? Am I too worldly? Am I supposed to be a light to them? What does that entail?
But for now, I will just be happy with the fun I had, the laughs I shared. The affirmation that Prism is a person people can like and want to be around. That I'm ME, and people like ME. And maybe, someday soon, hopefully, I'll understand why it's them and not the others. But for now, I'm happy I'm liked for being the person I still believe God made me to be.
What Is Wrong With Me???
***WARNING!!!*** This post contains adult topics...
I know this refrain is getting old. It's getting old for me, too. I wish it would stop. All go away. I get tired of it. Tired of the questioning. Tired of the wondering, the wanting to know the WHY. The forbidden fruit, I guess.
I'm tired of feeling like a freak. Of being different. Of wondering why I am the way I am and no one else is this way. Tired of waiting for someone who actually understands or GETS me.
And today I possible made a major fool of myself in a desperate attempt to find answers. Only when I am at my breaking points do I let my guard down and get real with people. And I always regret it. Only when I can't take it anymore will you see me shed a tear in your presence.
Unfortunately, since having Pumpkin it seems I am always vulnerable. Always on the verge of tears and losing it. Always at the bottom of the pit.
I don't understand God. I don't understand the Bible. I don't understand what I'm supposed to do, who I'm supposed to be, how I'm supposed to act, what I'm supposed to pass on to my own children.
I don't know why I have a HUGE guilt complex. But I do. I have the need, or the desire...the DRIVE to confess all my deepest darkest sins and secrets to the public, so they know who I REALLY am. It doesn't matter that God knows...I feel like a deceiver. It's not like the sins I have hidden haven't been done before. They aren't even bad on a scale of the worst. But they are unknown, and that bothers me.
I don't know why I have to be good all the time. I like to know what the "right" thing is so I can do it, and do it perfectly. I know when I have failed, and if I want to, I will not fail.
I don't know why I question everything now. Why I can't seem to accept that anything is okay, that what I feel in my heart truly IS the way God wants me to do things. Why I can't shut off the voices in my head, on the computer, in the books, on the T.V., in the magazine, at the church. The voices that each have a convincing reason that I am wrong regardless of the choice I make. Each can use scripture or studies showing the impact if I am wrong.
Why can't I read scripture and feel like it speaks to ME??? Why is it I only find more questions, nagging, relentless questions about the God I serve and what He expects from me? What am I doing wrong that makes it so I can't hear His voice louder than the others?
And if I shut them all out...so that perhaps I hear the still small voice, I am afraid He won't be there. Or if I DO think I hear...then when I encounter a voice, immediately they tell me that I am way off. Again.
I have been reading through the Bible with our church, chronologically, and it's very difficult for me so far. I see why people think that the stories are myth because, frankly, it's hard to know how to know these things REALLY happened. I am currently reading the fodder for those who believe God is harsh, unloving, and vengeful. Leviticus.
If there's another book that is as harsh as this, I don't look forward to it. I've read the Bible before, but not really dove into it, searching for answers. Thank goodness I already believe, shaken though I feel right now, because this would make me walk away for good, thank you very much.
Why did God kill Aaron's sons? Why was the punishment for certain sins death, and other similar sins simply ex-comunication? Why were women regarded as more unclean than men (male births made women unclean for 7 days, female births for 14 ? ) I don't understand. I want to know WHY?
Why is it that if it's an attitude thing, which is what I'm told, that David, who had a repentant heart, was given TIME to repent, but not Ananias and Saphira? (spelling may be off, I'm not checking the names right now because I'm laying my heart out here, forgive me.) I don't understand. I want to know WHY?
I want to know what God planned for families. What marital love was meant to be like. Were Adam and Eve told how to make love, the secrets of their bodies? Or did they have to discover it? And was Adam such a terrific lover that he discovered her pleasures on day one, or was she like many (Christian, mostly) woman today who wait years into their marriage before they realize how they work?
Was Eve terrified of giving birth, unknowing and unsure? Did she panic as waves of pain overcame her? What, exactly, was different from the original plan of giving birth, since most other mammals give birth as we do???
Did Adam and Eve hold their child, sleep with their child, or shove it off and ignore it's cries, realizing that "it would be okay" and "it needed to learn that the world doesn't revolve around it?"
Personally, I think God DID tell Adam and Eve a few secrets about love making. Maybe I'm way off, goodness knows it seems to be that way a lot. But if He told them how to tend a garden, and what animals are, etc. WHY IN THE WORLD would he leave them to be frustrated trying (fun as it may be) to discover something that seems JUST out of their reach?
I read about Eastern women who are trained in the art of love making so they will be a pleasing wife to their future husband. They don't have sex, they are just told HOW to have sex. Maybe this is wrong. I don't know. But what I DO know is that surely they have a better time on their honeymoon than couples where the bride is so shy she leaves the lights off all night long for goodness sakes. Between the two, I'd say God would want us to ENJOY the gift of sex, not hide from it like schoolgirls.
I've read about tribal women who are in rhythm with their bodies during labor. They sway, the women around them sway, in a belly dance, in tune with nature and birth. She is calm, relaxed. She gives birth without fear, or panic. Then there's the Western way. Fear so strong we immerse ourselves in a medicine to shut out all feeling, not even aware of the power within our bodies, bringing our children from within to without. The passage of life, and we are separated from it by a needle, or a knife.
In many cultures children are a part of daily life. Not something to be separated into other beds, other rooms, into buildings for learning. They are carried to work, they aren't left with sitters. Many cultures have one bedroom houses, where families sleep together. Babies are conceived while their siblings are sleeping. In this culture, one would be crude and inappropriate to do such a thing.
So I don't know where to go. I want my daughter to embrace her sexuality. Not with other people before she's married, but with all abandon after she's married. I don't want her to go years without realizing that females can have orgasms. But how do I tell her? Am I allowed to tell her?
I found out most of what I knew from the internet while I was engaged. I didn't know about books like Kevin Leman's "Sheet Music." So I looked stuff up on the net. And I learned what I wanted to know. And I had fun discovering how it worked once I was married. Though I was also tempted and found out some before.
So I know I don't want to go too far with my daughter. But what IS too far? Does God really want us to send our children into marriage not knowing that a female can orgasm? Since let's face it, most men know that THEY can orgasm. Some women don't even know what the word MEANS before they are married. How much of a shock do we let them have?
Yes, it could be a VERY pleasant thing to be surprised in a marriage. To be innocent. But how do you balance that with enough knowledge to let them be open and expecting, instead of shocked and horrified? Our men obviously go into it ready and willing. Why shouldn't our women? Why is it wrong to teach our children HOW to have sex (I'm not sure WHEN to teach them if it's okay, I'm just asking...)? We teach them how to sew, cook, clean, fix things. But SEX? Well, that should be discussed by the couple to be only....
And that's why we have the problems we do. Couples who don't consummate the marriage two years into it still. Couples who only have sex to procreate, creating a frustration I don't even want to contemplate.
And the fact that I brought all this up at the Apples of Gold meeting today means that no one there will ever think of me the same again.
Yes, I'm open. Open minded, for that matter. And yes, I suppose I am weird. To them. To you. To whoever thinks so.
It started with gift-giving. I talked about how gifts are my love language, and somehow the fact that I gave a "Tampon Angel" as a gift to my secret sister last year came up. After laughing about a few jokes in that regard, I mentioned cloth menstrual pads. At first everyone was laughing hysterically, until they realized that I MEANT it. That *I* used cloth pads, and made my own. Of course I got looked at like I was an alien or something, because they had never heard of it.
I can't blame them. First time I heard of many of the things I do I thought they were strange things too. But I guess the reason I told them was because I keep hoping that someone will want to know WHO I AM. Who I REALLY am. What makes me different. What makes me me. And so I brought it up so they would have another piece to the picture that is me.
And they laughed. And even after I explained it, I'm not sure what they thought. But I know that now I wish I hadn't said anything. Wish I hadn't mentioned my struggle to understand the difference between right and wrong. Wish I hadn't revealed a part of me that is still very vulnerable to criticism.
But I did. It's out there, and I can't take it back. And I hope they don't think I'm a freak now.
I mentioned my struggle with trying to figure out how to justify that the Quiverfull mentality is not right, but most didn't understand what the Quiverfull mentality WAS. (For the record, I've come to the conclusion that I don't feel God anywhere implies that we are not allowed to know and use our reproductive cycle in order to PREVENT or TRY to have kids. If one trusts in God to give children when HE wants them, we are saying that He goes against the natural laws He put into the universe. He allows rape to make a baby, yet that's not His ultimate will. He knows it will happen, but it didn't happen because He wanted it to, but because He allowed nature to take it's course. The same line of reasoning is what the Christian Scientists use to allow disease to consume them, even when there is a known medical cure. If we TRULY trust God, wouldn't we all just let our kids die of something that is curable??? So goes with our fertility. God allows us to learn our cycle for a reason, I believe.)
Anyway, they told me that if I question, then I'm okay. That that means I'm searching for God's Will. But for me it's not enough, and I wish it was. I wish I could glance just ONCE through God's eyes and see the big picture from His vantage point.
I wish I could stop over analyzing everything and everyone. But when I talk to those who can't get past our Western thinking, I feel like I'm overboard. And when I talk with those who adapt to Eastern or other cultural values, I'm too strict with my faith.
So where does God fall? Why is it that the more natural, the more gentle things, the things that seem to make more sense with a loving God and with a perfect earth, are the things that Christians are least likely to do? Where is the middle ground, and how do I find it?
I DON'T want to screw up my kids. I don't. I don't want to turn them into hippies who experiment with things because we should be okay with who we are. But I also don't want them to feel like me. Trapped by unseen rules. Guilty even when innocent. I want them to be proud of who they are, who God made them to be.
But how will they know what that is if I can't even find who God made ME to be?
What is wrong with me?????????????
I know this refrain is getting old. It's getting old for me, too. I wish it would stop. All go away. I get tired of it. Tired of the questioning. Tired of the wondering, the wanting to know the WHY. The forbidden fruit, I guess.
I'm tired of feeling like a freak. Of being different. Of wondering why I am the way I am and no one else is this way. Tired of waiting for someone who actually understands or GETS me.
And today I possible made a major fool of myself in a desperate attempt to find answers. Only when I am at my breaking points do I let my guard down and get real with people. And I always regret it. Only when I can't take it anymore will you see me shed a tear in your presence.
Unfortunately, since having Pumpkin it seems I am always vulnerable. Always on the verge of tears and losing it. Always at the bottom of the pit.
I don't understand God. I don't understand the Bible. I don't understand what I'm supposed to do, who I'm supposed to be, how I'm supposed to act, what I'm supposed to pass on to my own children.
I don't know why I have a HUGE guilt complex. But I do. I have the need, or the desire...the DRIVE to confess all my deepest darkest sins and secrets to the public, so they know who I REALLY am. It doesn't matter that God knows...I feel like a deceiver. It's not like the sins I have hidden haven't been done before. They aren't even bad on a scale of the worst. But they are unknown, and that bothers me.
I don't know why I have to be good all the time. I like to know what the "right" thing is so I can do it, and do it perfectly. I know when I have failed, and if I want to, I will not fail.
I don't know why I question everything now. Why I can't seem to accept that anything is okay, that what I feel in my heart truly IS the way God wants me to do things. Why I can't shut off the voices in my head, on the computer, in the books, on the T.V., in the magazine, at the church. The voices that each have a convincing reason that I am wrong regardless of the choice I make. Each can use scripture or studies showing the impact if I am wrong.
Why can't I read scripture and feel like it speaks to ME??? Why is it I only find more questions, nagging, relentless questions about the God I serve and what He expects from me? What am I doing wrong that makes it so I can't hear His voice louder than the others?
And if I shut them all out...so that perhaps I hear the still small voice, I am afraid He won't be there. Or if I DO think I hear...then when I encounter a voice, immediately they tell me that I am way off. Again.
I have been reading through the Bible with our church, chronologically, and it's very difficult for me so far. I see why people think that the stories are myth because, frankly, it's hard to know how to know these things REALLY happened. I am currently reading the fodder for those who believe God is harsh, unloving, and vengeful. Leviticus.
If there's another book that is as harsh as this, I don't look forward to it. I've read the Bible before, but not really dove into it, searching for answers. Thank goodness I already believe, shaken though I feel right now, because this would make me walk away for good, thank you very much.
Why did God kill Aaron's sons? Why was the punishment for certain sins death, and other similar sins simply ex-comunication? Why were women regarded as more unclean than men (male births made women unclean for 7 days, female births for 14 ? ) I don't understand. I want to know WHY?
Why is it that if it's an attitude thing, which is what I'm told, that David, who had a repentant heart, was given TIME to repent, but not Ananias and Saphira? (spelling may be off, I'm not checking the names right now because I'm laying my heart out here, forgive me.) I don't understand. I want to know WHY?
I want to know what God planned for families. What marital love was meant to be like. Were Adam and Eve told how to make love, the secrets of their bodies? Or did they have to discover it? And was Adam such a terrific lover that he discovered her pleasures on day one, or was she like many (Christian, mostly) woman today who wait years into their marriage before they realize how they work?
Was Eve terrified of giving birth, unknowing and unsure? Did she panic as waves of pain overcame her? What, exactly, was different from the original plan of giving birth, since most other mammals give birth as we do???
Did Adam and Eve hold their child, sleep with their child, or shove it off and ignore it's cries, realizing that "it would be okay" and "it needed to learn that the world doesn't revolve around it?"
Personally, I think God DID tell Adam and Eve a few secrets about love making. Maybe I'm way off, goodness knows it seems to be that way a lot. But if He told them how to tend a garden, and what animals are, etc. WHY IN THE WORLD would he leave them to be frustrated trying (fun as it may be) to discover something that seems JUST out of their reach?
I read about Eastern women who are trained in the art of love making so they will be a pleasing wife to their future husband. They don't have sex, they are just told HOW to have sex. Maybe this is wrong. I don't know. But what I DO know is that surely they have a better time on their honeymoon than couples where the bride is so shy she leaves the lights off all night long for goodness sakes. Between the two, I'd say God would want us to ENJOY the gift of sex, not hide from it like schoolgirls.
I've read about tribal women who are in rhythm with their bodies during labor. They sway, the women around them sway, in a belly dance, in tune with nature and birth. She is calm, relaxed. She gives birth without fear, or panic. Then there's the Western way. Fear so strong we immerse ourselves in a medicine to shut out all feeling, not even aware of the power within our bodies, bringing our children from within to without. The passage of life, and we are separated from it by a needle, or a knife.
In many cultures children are a part of daily life. Not something to be separated into other beds, other rooms, into buildings for learning. They are carried to work, they aren't left with sitters. Many cultures have one bedroom houses, where families sleep together. Babies are conceived while their siblings are sleeping. In this culture, one would be crude and inappropriate to do such a thing.
So I don't know where to go. I want my daughter to embrace her sexuality. Not with other people before she's married, but with all abandon after she's married. I don't want her to go years without realizing that females can have orgasms. But how do I tell her? Am I allowed to tell her?
I found out most of what I knew from the internet while I was engaged. I didn't know about books like Kevin Leman's "Sheet Music." So I looked stuff up on the net. And I learned what I wanted to know. And I had fun discovering how it worked once I was married. Though I was also tempted and found out some before.
So I know I don't want to go too far with my daughter. But what IS too far? Does God really want us to send our children into marriage not knowing that a female can orgasm? Since let's face it, most men know that THEY can orgasm. Some women don't even know what the word MEANS before they are married. How much of a shock do we let them have?
Yes, it could be a VERY pleasant thing to be surprised in a marriage. To be innocent. But how do you balance that with enough knowledge to let them be open and expecting, instead of shocked and horrified? Our men obviously go into it ready and willing. Why shouldn't our women? Why is it wrong to teach our children HOW to have sex (I'm not sure WHEN to teach them if it's okay, I'm just asking...)? We teach them how to sew, cook, clean, fix things. But SEX? Well, that should be discussed by the couple to be only....
And that's why we have the problems we do. Couples who don't consummate the marriage two years into it still. Couples who only have sex to procreate, creating a frustration I don't even want to contemplate.
And the fact that I brought all this up at the Apples of Gold meeting today means that no one there will ever think of me the same again.
Yes, I'm open. Open minded, for that matter. And yes, I suppose I am weird. To them. To you. To whoever thinks so.
It started with gift-giving. I talked about how gifts are my love language, and somehow the fact that I gave a "Tampon Angel" as a gift to my secret sister last year came up. After laughing about a few jokes in that regard, I mentioned cloth menstrual pads. At first everyone was laughing hysterically, until they realized that I MEANT it. That *I* used cloth pads, and made my own. Of course I got looked at like I was an alien or something, because they had never heard of it.
I can't blame them. First time I heard of many of the things I do I thought they were strange things too. But I guess the reason I told them was because I keep hoping that someone will want to know WHO I AM. Who I REALLY am. What makes me different. What makes me me. And so I brought it up so they would have another piece to the picture that is me.
And they laughed. And even after I explained it, I'm not sure what they thought. But I know that now I wish I hadn't said anything. Wish I hadn't mentioned my struggle to understand the difference between right and wrong. Wish I hadn't revealed a part of me that is still very vulnerable to criticism.
But I did. It's out there, and I can't take it back. And I hope they don't think I'm a freak now.
I mentioned my struggle with trying to figure out how to justify that the Quiverfull mentality is not right, but most didn't understand what the Quiverfull mentality WAS. (For the record, I've come to the conclusion that I don't feel God anywhere implies that we are not allowed to know and use our reproductive cycle in order to PREVENT or TRY to have kids. If one trusts in God to give children when HE wants them, we are saying that He goes against the natural laws He put into the universe. He allows rape to make a baby, yet that's not His ultimate will. He knows it will happen, but it didn't happen because He wanted it to, but because He allowed nature to take it's course. The same line of reasoning is what the Christian Scientists use to allow disease to consume them, even when there is a known medical cure. If we TRULY trust God, wouldn't we all just let our kids die of something that is curable??? So goes with our fertility. God allows us to learn our cycle for a reason, I believe.)
Anyway, they told me that if I question, then I'm okay. That that means I'm searching for God's Will. But for me it's not enough, and I wish it was. I wish I could glance just ONCE through God's eyes and see the big picture from His vantage point.
I wish I could stop over analyzing everything and everyone. But when I talk to those who can't get past our Western thinking, I feel like I'm overboard. And when I talk with those who adapt to Eastern or other cultural values, I'm too strict with my faith.
So where does God fall? Why is it that the more natural, the more gentle things, the things that seem to make more sense with a loving God and with a perfect earth, are the things that Christians are least likely to do? Where is the middle ground, and how do I find it?
I DON'T want to screw up my kids. I don't. I don't want to turn them into hippies who experiment with things because we should be okay with who we are. But I also don't want them to feel like me. Trapped by unseen rules. Guilty even when innocent. I want them to be proud of who they are, who God made them to be.
But how will they know what that is if I can't even find who God made ME to be?
What is wrong with me?????????????
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