Touchy Subjects « Girly Muse

Archive for the ‘Touchy Subjects’ Category

Anonymous Blog, Mama Bear Claws and Denial

July 5, 2012

More than ever this week, I’ve wished this was an anonymous blog. I’ve wished it all year, because it’s been one of those seasons of having so much to say and not being able to say it. So on my favorite place to write exactly what is on my mind, when I go to write I end up talking grammar and other safe topics. Good grammar is on my mind, don’t get me wrong, but my head is full and this has always been my outlet. It’s been sad to feel like I’m, in a sense, avoiding this blog.

This year hasn’t been all bad~ there has been so much wonderful, but sometimes even great things have to be kept private. That being said, there has been a steady stream of hard lessons learned, gross life junk and altered relationships all along the way that would probably make for a multitude of fantastic blog posts. I’m being rather sarcastic, even though it’s the truth. It really would have helped to talk about it on here, feel the relief of writing it out and also get your input.

I’m not really going anywhere much further with that train of thought, only to say it’s why I’m here so rarely these days. I miss writing more often (so much!) but when I start a post, the things that want to come out aren’t so Girly Muse friendly.

Today, I will give you a censored version of an ongoing struggle…

I’m still in Arkansas and my dad had an awful day yesterday. We were up in the wee hours of the morning praying for him and trying to get him comfortable. Thankfully, he finally fell asleep when the chest pains subsided a little. Normally, we would have gotten him to the hospital in a hurry after 2 nitro, but he had been feeling like he couldn’t even make it to the hospital. It was really scary, so it felt miraculous for him to sleep and I’m grateful that by the time he went to bed last night, he was so much better. In the meantime, my grandpa has been suffering~ he keeps falling and each time is more affected. He didn’t know Greyley this visit. Yesterday, he didn’t know me half the time. He’ll say something that makes sense and in the next minute, he’ll be talking nonsense. But beyond that, he’s in pain and not able to take care of himself.

My grandparents have been amazing in their ability to care for their home and their yard. You can’t believe the gardens they’ve had. They’re both in their mid-80s and have suffered every disease known to man, but have always worked unbelievably hard. My grandmother’s health hasn’t been the best either and on Monday, we were at her doctor, trying to get relief for her too. They’re both struggling and it’s awful to watch. I’ve left bawling each time I leave their house this week.

Downsizing, Assisted Living and Nursing Home…these are the topics that have been on the table for a long time. And whew, it’s a complicated, volatile conversation.

The stress of it all has taken its toll on my dad and he cannot do it any longer. He’s the kind of man who took my other grandfather, who had Alzheimer’s, into our home and cared for him until the day he died. He was the one called when his pastor’s mother was getting sicker and eventually put in the nursing home. Some days she only wanted my dad and he was there faithfully. He was the one holding up my mom’s mother when she was struggling for her last breath.

With his parents, he has taken care of them at the expense of his own health. Again and again and again. And while he has the ability to say no, it is not in his nature to turn his head when someone is suffering. So he just keeps on~X, Y, Z, you name it, he’s doing it~ with my mom right alongside him.

So I come to town and go all Mother Bear for my parents. It’s hard to explain it any other way than that because I’d never felt such a FIERCE love until I had kids. I loved and I loved hard, but not fierce, until them. I didn’t dream I would ever be the one to have to have this conversation, but you know what they say…I guess things happen for a reason. And initially, I didn’t say anything that their kids haven’t said to them already, but I had it out with my grandmother yesterday, confronting her about getting help for Grandpa.

My little 84-pound grandmother is strong and mighty. I realized yesterday that everyone in the entire family is afraid of her.

It’d be hilarious if…well…I don’t know when it’s hilarious at the moment.

My grandma has always called me the sweet one, but after yesterday, I’m not so sure she’ll ever speak to me again, much less call me sweet. I’ve never had one cross word with her, EVER, but yesterday we pretty much covered it all. At one point, I chuckled and said, “Well, I know where I get my stubbornness from, Grandma. YOU.” We were talking about her not letting a girl who’d stayed with them cook for her, even though she was there to do just that.

And I made her cry. Yes, I made my grandma cry.

She said I hurt her feelings and that nobody had never, EVER called her stubborn. Well, I apologized immediately because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I also know that everyone has always called her stubborn. I guess it’s been behind her back, so she’s apparently never been faced with the truth.

When I think about all we did talk about, I’m struck by the fact that this is what made her cry. Out of all we talked about~ and I’ll tell you, we covered some extremely intense and painful territory for about 5 hours~ but me calling her stubborn is the only thing that made her cry.

You know me~ it has my head whirling. Four hours of sleep and lots of thinking later and this is what has jumped up out of it all and consumed my thoughts. Our human nature~ how do we hide our true nature from ourselves? Sometimes even to the extent that everyone who knows us can see it, BUT us.

Denial is a strong, dangerous character, especially if you’ve entertained it your whole life. I’m tempted to say it’s right up there with bitterness, but I guess denial is really like the antithesis of bitterness and probably a way more peaceful brain space. I guess I can’t deny someone denial for that reason.

The saga continues. It wasn’t resolved yesterday. Today another attempt will be made to get help for them. I did the best I could and certainly paved the way. Now, I’m wrapping my protective bear claws around my mom and dad and bearing my teeth at anyone who blinks at them crooked.

I am, after all, my grandmother’s granddaughter.

Posted in Confession is Good for the Soul, Family, July 2012, Life, Touchy Subjects, Travel | 16 Comments »

The Sad Demise of Plurals

June 20, 2012

Due to the astonishing rise in apostrophe usage, plurals are quickly becoming extinct. If nothing is done to remedy this situation, plurals will be a thing of the past.

Dun dun dun (cue scary organ music)

Everywhere you look, apostrophes are running rampant. Menus, church bulletins, SCHOOL PAPERS and even published books are throwing plurals out to pasture. Desperate times call for desperate measures, people.

See if you can find the errors in this brief paragraph:

Parent’s, please bring your childrens’ yearbook’s to the class party. We would like all the boy’s and girl’s to sign yearbook’s for a memory’s keepsake.

No, the school handout I saw wasn’t this bad, but I promise I’ve seen all of these mistakes at one time or another. If your heart constricted and your breath became shallow while reading the above, you feel my pain. Thank you. If you don’t see anything wrong with those sentences, maybe God is trying to tell you something. (cue a heavenly choir)

I put this status on FB the other day:

Plurals feel highly neglected with all the misused apostrophes…just thought you should know.

I was asked for help, so here I am.

Let’s talk about apostrophes.

*Apostrophes and contractions belong together. don’t, isn’t, haven’t, she’s

*Apostrophes are all like, “MINE!” They show possession. Put the apostrophe before the s. the girl’s toe, the boy’s frog.

Note that names ending in s or the s sound don’t HAVE to have the added s, but it’s preferred. Ross’s books, Mr. Lees’s food, Miss Jones’s cookie.

*Throw in an apostrophe when a noun to follow is implied. It is my mother’s.

Speaking of mothers, those mother-in-laws can be tricky…

*In singular compound nouns, show possession with ‘s at the end. my mother-in-law’s tree

*In plural compound nouns, make the noun plural first and then add the ‘s at the end. two mothers-in-law’s stories, three brothers-in law’s jokes (I’d probably just say their names to avoid this whole thing, but this handy rule is nice to have up your sleeve.)

*For plural possession, make the noun plural first and then add the apostrophe. three girls’ shoes, two actresses’ parts, the Joneses’ cookies.

*Apostrophes do not belong in a plural name. Sabins, Atkinsons, Ramirezes

*Apostrophes have no place with possessive pronouns. his, hers, its, theirs, ours, whose

Except, you know, it’s if you’re talking about it is or it has…

*Plural letters and numbers used as nouns do not need apostrophes. She mixed up her 5s and 9s. ABCs, the 80s.

UNLESS, it is unclear without an apostrophe. Please dot your i’s. (otherwise it would look like is)

I’m sure I’ve forgotten something important here. Feel free to throw in your 2 cents, thoughts, feelings and grief on the subject. If you want to write about more than one of something, add an S. If you’re talking to parents, don’t you dare add an apostrophe! There is a time and place for everything and that is not it.

Posted in Grammar, June 2012, Lists of This and That, Touchy Subjects | 6 Comments »

Girly Muse Grammar 101

June 11, 2012

I’ve had a grammar post stirring in me for quite some time. I have to consciously (more on consciously later) turn part of my brain off when I read something for fun; otherwise I’m cutting the S, adding an apostrophe, chucking full sentences and losing characters that are unnecessary or annoying. Don’t get me wrong~ I know my writing isn’t perfect and I ignore some of the main writing rules~ and really, with English, there are so many exceptions, right? But for now, let’s just talk about some words that are commonly misspelled/misused.

If I let myself, I could be REALLY BOTHERED by these mistakes. Deep breaths. (More on breath later)

Let’s start with the basics…bear with me. (More on bear later)

YOUR/YOU’RE

Your is possessive~ your car, your dress, your dog

You’re is a contraction of you are~ you’re chilly, you’re going to the store. If you can say you are, throw in the apostrophe version!

ITS/IT’S

Its is a possessive pronoun~ its eyes, its kitten

It’s is a contraction of it is or it has~ it’s hot, it’s been a long time. If you can say it is, throw in the apostrophe version. If you can’t, don’t!

THERE/THEIR/THEY’RE

There~ referring to a place. There are many books on my list.

Their~ a possessive adjective indicating a particular noun belongs to them, whoever they are. I dropped their book off at the front desk, wishing I could keep it.

They’re~ a contraction of they are. They’re going to knock that book off the bestseller list!

WERE/WHERE/WEAR

This one seems hard to get wrong, but it seems to get mistreated a lot.

Were~ past form of the verb to be. We were young and not very bright.

Where~ refers to a place. Where, oh where has my little dog gone?

Wear~ to carry or have on the body as clothing or adornment. Will you wear the blue shirt?

And now some weird ones that I keep running across…

LOSE/LOOSE

I see loose all the time in place of lose. They’re two completely different words and both valuable in the English language. Let’s please not LOSE the value of these words.

Lose~ to misplace something; the opposite of winning, Charlie Sheen. I hate to lose my keys.

Loose~ to be free, unbound; lacking restraint. The knot was loose and threatening to break.

PEEK/PEAK

Peek~ to look at something quickly. Would you like to sneak a peek?

Peak~ a summit, highest point. Sadly, his intelligence peaked at age 15.

ANYWAY/ANYWAYS

Anyway~ a word leading into casual conversation.

Anyways~ not a word, period. Enough said.

So anyway…

ALRIGHT/ALL RIGHT

All right is correct.

Alright is not a real word, but might be gaining shady acceptance here and there. How about we don’t let that happen…

And just when we thought we had a pattern going, we hit ALREADY/ALL READY…

Already~ previously. I already ate the cookies.

All ready~ The cookies are all ready to be snarfed.

And ALTOGETHER/ALL TOGETHER

Altogether~ entirely. It was an altogether different time.

All together~ collectively. We were all together, in one mind and one accord. Hallelujah.

BEAR/BARE

Bear~ a large mammal; to hold or support; to give birth to…lots of meanings. She could hardly bear to see the bear come near the child. (Bad sentence, but hey, look at that~ two meanings, same spelling.)

Bare~ lacking clothing or exposed to view. Her bare back exposed the scars. She couldn’t bear to see the bare expanse. (Oh now…mixing it up on ya!)

BREATH/BREATHE

Breath~ a noun that most often means the air that is inhaled or exhaled. She was happy to stop and take a breath.

Breathe~ a verb relating to the action of taking in and expelling breath. Sometimes you just need to stop and breathe.

CONSCIOUS/CONSCIENCE

Conscious~ being aware or deliberate. I try to be conscious of the fact that not everyone feels the same as I do about words.

Conscience~ the sense of what is right and wrong. When it came to him, she had no conscience. (Yikes, girl, stay away from him!)

THREW/THROUGH/THRU

Threw~ past tense of throw. She threw the broken glass away, her heart breaking a little with each piece.

Through~ moving in one side and out the other. She walked through the gate and felt like a new woman.

Thru~ it’s in the dictionary, but that doesn’t mean we should use it in fancified writing. Ain’t is in some dictionaries too. Thru is an informal way of writing through. Go ahead and spell it out…unless you’re texting.

A LOT/ALOT

A lot~ to a large extent. She knew a lot about spiders.

Alot~ it’s anot a word, so adon’t ause it.

REGARDLESS/IRREGARDLESS

I was appalled to hear that irregardless is in the urban dictionary. Nooooo, say it isn’t so. This is a word that is the equivalent to nails on chalkboard for me. This might be a word that~ dare I say it~ I will…judge. And yes, it will be judging not so highly in your favor. I WILL have to speak up and say, “Please, please…don’t.”

It’s regardless. Irregardless takes away the point of saying regardless in the first place. So, just DON’T.

Sorry. I’m breathing. I’m not losing it. I’m bearing the burden so I can keep a good conscience. After all, your friendship is so important to me, regardless of the words you use. It means a lot to me that you read this blog. We can get through this hurdle.

Where were we?

Oh, so many words, so little time. What are your pet peeves with words?

*** Excellent books on writing and grammar can be found, further exposing my Geekdom…go ahead, click Geekdom, you know you want to.

Posted in Grammar, June 2012, Touchy Subjects, Writing | 22 Comments »

Sticky Pits, Stinky Pits, Dry Shampoo & Me

April 16, 2012

This post on Facebook got a few comments…

Always, ALWAYS shower on Saturday nights…because as sure as you don’t, the power will go off and on and off and on, the tub faucet won’t shut off EVER, so the water will have to be shut off and you’ll be stuck at church with soapy arms and pits, dirty hair and a foul-smelling mouth. Thank God for dry shampoo, hats and old water from a water bottle, is all I have to say. Well, actually, I have a lot more to say on the subject, but I’ll leave it at that.

Some wanted the “more to say on the subject” so here we go. It’s not too late to stop reading if you are of the faint of heart persuasion.

I woke up yesterday morning at 5:56 to the bright fan light abruptly turning on by itself. I got up and turned it off, realizing we must have been out of power for a while. Nate had already called the power company hours earlier and they came out, but there was a loud explosion in our street at one point, so it sounded like the power company was having some troubles.

If you have been reading this blog for any length of time or if you own a house yourself, you know that there are seasons when everything in your house either breaks, explodes or floods. Or is that really just us? Don’t answer that. We’ve been in one of those seasons for a LONG time now.

It is taxing and it drives me to eat.

But that’s a topic for another day.

Before I continue, I must also say I prefer this season to seasons of not getting along or seasons of sickness…

Anyhoo…season of house and the things in the house falling apart…that is what we’re in. And back to yesterday morning~ of course, it was a Sunday. It couldn’t be a scuzzy Saturday! That would just be too easy.

I was cuddling Indigo, playing Scramble with friends (my latest game addiction) on my phone and lazing way longer than I should, intellectually speaking. I know there are a million ways for a Sunday morning to go wrong and have written about a few of those ways on this wee ole blog.

Let me digress (again~ goodness, how many digressions am I gonna take on this single post?) to say that our Saturday WAS indeed a scuzzy one, complete with lazing around and the kids playing on their new RipStiks~ hello, new reason to get on my knees in prayer!

Knowing it might be the last truly beautiful warm day we would have for a while, I caved when the kids asked if they could wait to take their baths in the morning. They played until the last possible minute and even though they desperately needed cleaning up, once they sat down, they were so sore and tired, I just sent them to bed.

Big mistake. Never ever succumb to this temptation.

So, when Indigo and I did hop up yesterday, we knew we had to scramble. I ran his bath water and didn’t run much water because I planned to take a shower while he was in the bath. I would wake Greyley up after my shower so she could get hers. Lucky Smart Duck Nate had taken his shower earlier like the good man he is. And since he vowed to me on our wedding day, 18 years ago (that very day!), that he would shower every day, he was feeling extra keen on keeping that promise.

Normally, Nate would already be gone, but due to the power outage, he had already had his hands full and was running late too. I don’t know, he might have tried to take me down in Scramble too, but that’s neither here nor there. Thank GOD he was still there.

I leaned over the tub to turn Indie’s water off~ he was already in there, splashing away~ and the faucet for the cold water just kept turning and turning and not stopping. There was already so little water in there that Indigo was getting cold right away and I said, “Uh, Nate…this faucet isn’t turning off.”

He tried and realized it wasn’t going to stop.

I don’t know why I didn’t turn the hot water on at this point and fill up the tub. Next time, I will think of that. But instead, I dunked Indigo in the water as fast as I could and helped him rinse his hair out while his teeth started chattering. Nate went down to the basement to turn the water off, Indie lifted the plug out of habit and that’s when I realized I needed to leave for church in 30 minutes and still wasn’t clean. I jumped in the water puddle that was left and began sudsing up, not bothering to plug the little that was left. I should have…but I didn’t. Again, next time, I shall know better. I got good and soaped up as the last trickle of water went down the drain.

I guess it’s a blessing that I hadn’t started on my hair.

I jumped out of the empty tub and began drying off the soap. In case you’re wondering, dried soap on your armpits feels very sticky. Deodorant doesn’t help. When Nate turned the water back on for a minute, the water went nuts out of the faucet and we scrambled to keep it from flooding out of the top of the tub, but I did take that opportunity to also splash my pits. It helped immensely. I didn’t manage to get my arms too, for the pits were the main concern.

Thank the Lord for dry shampoo. I’ve already talked on here about how long I could probably go without washing my hair with the curls/frizz, but I’ve always been a little scared of testing that theory, except for when I’m sick. I don’t even want to know how long I can probably go. I just wash it every other day and leave it at that. But it was already past my comfort level, thanks to my slothfulness on scuzzy Saturday and so I spruced it up with the dry shampoo, did curly pony tails and can I just say that I got loads of compliments on my hair…ha! Fist pump high in the air! Curse you, you wretched faucet!

Around this time, we realized we were out of a bass player for the morning service and while Nate tried to pull the washer and dryer out (it’s on the other side of the wall to the bathtub), he was also trying to hunt down another bass player. Who says men can’t multitask?

Greyley stumbled in around this time and wondered why there was no water in her bathroom.

By now, we were scared to turn the water back on and were running very late, so Indigo and Greyley got plastic baggies and packed our toothbrushes and toothpaste and we hurried off to church. If you’re new to this blog~ my husband and I work for our church/the music department. I’m sure if we didn’t we would have skipped yesterday, if not to A) celebrate our anniversary, then B) to figure out this mess. But we do, so we went and had a good time. It was a nice reprieve. We also had a delicious lunch at Red Lobster, using a Christmas gift certificate (woohoo!) and then Nate surprised me with these lovelies…

Aren’t they beautiful? We were still in great spirits and maintaining our humor about the whole day. We enjoyed some ice cream and laughed at Indigo’s attempt to wipe all the chocolate ice cream off his chin. It just would not go away…where’s an almost empty water bottle when you need it???

And then we got home and tried to tackle the water situation again. Nate had called a plumber friend on our way home and he’d told him what he needed tool-wise, but suggested he continue looking for the shut-off valve for the bathtub. It was our friend’s Easter and so he was in the thick of celebrating. Nate finally got the washer and dryer out~ not an easy feat with where it’s located, how massive it is and the mostly wood/partly carpet situation underneath…only to find out that there IS no shut-off valve for the bathtub. It’s an older house. It’s not there.

This is all over a couple of hours of sweat, aggravation and more aggravation. I started getting snippy with the kids (and their blasted RipStiks~ WHY, for the love of all that is holy?) and tried to keep all of us as clean as possible because we had a church concert to go to in just 5 minutes. Again, we do the stinkin’ music at our church, so skipping was not an option at this point. (Yes, I realize I had a bad attitude. Pray for me.) We used leftover water from water bottles to brush our teeth and this time I wore a hat. Perfume was also in the mix. Someone even told me I smelled good and I had a good giggle inside, but just said, “Thank you” like my Mama would.

Nate dropped me off outside Cub grocery store to get snacks for the guest band performing at our church that night. I ran in alone since I’m the speedy quick one and I went through the self check-out lane because all the others were so long. I had scathing words with the electronic scanner for being such a nitwit and finally got out of there, breathing sighs of relief when we reached the church parking lot.

Once we had the refreshments all nicely laid out and greeted our guests and met the ones we didn’t know, my friend asked if I had any medicine for his headache. When I went to get my bag is the first time I realized I’d left my purse at Cub. In the self check-out lane. In a not-so-great part of town.

Nate rushed over to Cub. I fought the near hysteria that threatened to take over my addled brain. I called Cub, GOT SOMEONE (can you believe it!), she let me spill out my guts without giving anything away until I had said some key word (still not sure what that was), but FINALLY she said SHE HAD IT. Oh, thank GOD. I went weak in the knees and tried to stop the sweat that threatened to take over since I didn’t know how long I’d be stuck with it.

The concert was excellent~ Jonathan Thulin and Charmaine. Watch for their single to come out soon, “Dead Come to Life.” They’re insanely good together.

It was 10:30 before we got home. We didn’t even attempt to do anything but use the bottled water we’d brought home…it would have to wait until tomorrow.

We collapsed into bed and fell asleep watching youtube videos on plumbing.

The saga continues today. I can’t even begin on that or I’ll never get this post finished, but I will tell you that after pony tails and then a hat, the hair is not faring too well, my friends…not well at all.

Posted in April 2012, Confession is Good for the Soul, House, Marriage, Miracles, Touchy Subjects | 14 Comments »

The Toilet Paper Treaty

April 2, 2012

A TREATY

between

Girly Muse

and

Whom It May Concern,

Namely the Sultan and Other Inhabitants of the Girly Muse Household,

But also Anyone Else to Whom this Information is Pertinent,

On 2 April 2012.

******************************************************************************************************

Girly Muse of the Twin Cities and Whom It May Concern in the Greater Minnesota Area and all the Surrounding States, as well as Alaska, Hawaii, Mexico, Bermuda, Russia and Beyond, but Namely the Sultan and Other Inhabitants of the Girly Muse Household,

Desiring to confirm and strengthen the friendly relations which exist between them and to extend the relations by the conclusion of a new treaty, The Toilet Paper Treaty, to replace the Treaty of Frugality and Convenience signed on 15 April 1994,

Wish to Agree as Follows:

Article 1

(1) The term “soft, softer, or softest” shall hereby be scoffed in relation to any toilet paper besides Charmin Ultra Soft—this includes, but is not limited to: Quilted Northern, Cottonelle, Scott’s, Seventh Generation, as well as other Charmin brands, not including the aforementioned Charmin Ultra Soft.

(2) The term “double ply” shall not register as a truth, but may or not be merely trickery to the consumer.

(3) The term “double rolls” is neither here nor there, since the double rolls will be consumed at a faster pace; thereby the term “double rolls” becomes null and void.

(3a) 20 sheets (i.e., Scott’s) versus 3 sheets (i.e., Charmin Ultra Soft)

(4) The term “using less” should be disregarded unless referring to Charmin Ultra Soft.

(4a) See (3a)

(5) The Participants of this Treaty must not be swayed by references to “saving” or “best buy” or “more for your money” or any “buy one, get one free” offers.

(5a) See (3a) and (4a)

Article 2

(1) The Participants must agree to not further sample any other brands of Toilet Paper since the research has been ongoing for eighteen years and is hereby declared complete. However, research can be done outside the Girly Muse household in the manner of staying current and open-minded.

(1a) The results of the above research outlined in Article 1 and Article 2 will not amend the Treaty.

This concludes the Toilet Paper Treaty, 2 April 2012

Signature:

Girly Muse

and

Sultan of the Girly Muse Household

Various Participants from, but not limited to—

Inver Grove Heights, MN

Eagan, MN

Apple Valley, MN

Woodbury, MN

Duluth, MN

Fargo, MN

Hudson, WI

Racine, WI

Milwaukee, WI

Des Moines, IA

Kansas City, MO

Little Rock, AR

San Jose, CA

Orange County, CA

St. Petersburg, Russia

Cancun, Mexico

Posted in April 2012, House, Lists of This and That, Touchy Subjects | 16 Comments »

Consequence Schmonsequence

December 15, 2011

photobucket

Consequences can be a nasty beast.

*Have you ever gotten the urge to use British slang and then discover what those words really mean? Case in point: bloody, bugger, sod off. Please don’t look them up. It will ruin everything.

We’re dealing with them over here…consequences, that is…not British slang. I’m probably the only one who hears British cuss words in my head, due to reading too much English literature…and you know, every other book I can get my hands on.

I’ve never had a bloke tell me off before.

However, I probably wouldn’t mind…because everything sounds lovely in a British accent.

But ANYWAY…back to consequences…

I hate them. It’s one thing to have to deal with my own bad decisions. I try to own up to whatever I deserve and take it. But when it’s your children who are having to deal with their consequences, it can be harder to stand by and watch.

All human sin seems so much worse in its consequences than in its intentions.~ Reinhold Niebuhr

Coping with the demands of everyday life would be exceedingly trying if one could arrive at solutions to problems only by actually performing possible options and suffering the consequences.~ Albert Bandura

Everyone will experience the consequences of his own acts. If his acts are right, he’ll get good consequences; if they’re not, he’ll suffer for it.~ Harry Browne

It’s the whole, You Reap What You Sow kind of thing. Except I was always terrified by that Biblical concept…until I realized that it went both ways. It doesn’t have to be a fearful thing: I simply need to be sowing good things.

And if I don’t, well…my eyeballs won’t be plucked out. But…I WILL feel the weight of something gone wrong. I will backtrack instead of advance. It won’t be as great as it could have been. Not forever, but for a little while…

We’re trying to teach our children this. Daily. And sometimes it doesn’t feel very important when it’s over things like, “DO NOT leave your dirty clothes ON THE FLOOR!!!” or “Do NOT pick on your brother!” or “QUIT going into your sister’s room when she’s not there!” But really, it is.

We want to do the right things so that we reap a loving relationship between brother and sister instead of a combative one. A clean floor will go a long way in keeping the mama from losing her mind and peace really is desired among us all.

Don’t mind me, I’ll get off the rant soon.

But not yet.

There’s a reason for all the bossing around. Sometimes I feel like such a bossy human being with this motherhood business. I really get tired of telling (AND asking nicely) little and not so little people what to do. I’d like nothing better than the dirty clothes to take care of themselves, to eat all the sugar we want, to let the homework go to the dogs, to join the circus if we wanted and to live a jolly, carefree life.

But I’m raising humans that are going to grow up and have to answer for themselves and so help me, they are going to be capable! They will be true to their word~ say what they mean and mean what they say! And they will have clean ears and brushed teeth and the best grades they’re capable of while getting there!

Deep breath.

So we’ll take our consequences with the rest of our lumps and we will make something grow out of it.

Hopefully something beautiful or delicious. I’d take either.

Posted in Confession is Good for the Soul, December 2011, Kids, Life, Touchy Subjects | 15 Comments »

Terror and the Unthinkable

November 2, 2011

You know that thing that happens when you wear tights and the stitching is on your skin when you take them off? Or you sit against an upholstered chair with bare legs and the upholstery turns up on your leg when you get up? The phenomenon of having something transfer onto my skin when I am minding my own business is absolutely terrifying. I am horrified of Imprint. It makes my stomach drop just like I’ve been on a roller coaster, only without the fun.

As a child, I remember falling asleep on my parent’s cream chenille bedspread…this isn’t the one, but here, this will help you visualize…

They’re so pretty~ I love chenille. But, the terror that befalls, should you fall asleep on top of the covers!

I would wake up with my sweaty cheek stuck to the bedspread and I’d try to pull my face out of the crevices. My skin would suction off the textured surface, slowly and deliberately. It was marking me. When those last molds would finally let go, my cheek would burn and I’d slowly raise my hand to my face. I still shudder to think about it. There on my cheek, would be an Imprint, deep and everlasting.

I would start to cry before I ever saw it, but oh, if I did happen to see it in the mirror…no, NOooo!!!

I’ve tried to instill this fear into my children, but they will have none of it. However, they HAVE become my protectors.

“Uh, Mama…you have Imprint on your face…”

“You don’t want to look at the back of your leg, Mama, just so you know…”

“Imprint, Mama, Imprint!”

“Don’t look in the mirror right now, Mama, DON’T!”

Or just that certain look they get in their eyes…I know it’s Imprint coming to terrorize me once again.

Lately, something new has been happening~ when I sleep on my pillow, on my side (I am going to HAVE to learn to sleep on my back, if it’s the last thing I do!), my cheeks are so ~~fat~~ full that they scrunch up and I am waking up with a deep ~~crater~~ Imprint at the start of my cheek, by the bridge of my nose. I’ve tried to rub it out and that used to work. However, with it happening every night now, it’s starting to stick. I’m afraid the unthinkable has finally happened~ my Imprint has gone permanent.

Some would call it a Wrinkle. No, it’s something that has been torturing me my entire life. It has finally claimed me. Pretty soon, I’ll just be one large Imprint.

Posted in November 2011, Touchy Subjects | 9 Comments »

Flakey, Flighty or Spacy

October 12, 2011

Let’s talk about these three words~ Flakey, Flighty and Spacy. They sound like some unpredictable dwarves, don’t they. I have heard them misused a bit lately and have had to defend myself even about these silly words, so I decided to look them up and see EXACTLY what they mean.

Flakey: To be unreliable, and/or absent-minded, flighty, fickle. Generally irresponsible.

Flighty: Fickle and irresponsible

Spacy: Eccentric; offbeat.

I thought Flighty had a gentler meaning than Flakey, but turns out it’s pretty much on par with Flakey. However, I have always been a defender of Spacy…because I am One. And while there are parts of Flakey I can relate to (Hello, Absent-Minded!), there are other meanings in there that I can’t particularly defend.

We were at lunch with friends a few months ago and one of them said, in a positive and bold voice, “All musicians are flakey.”

(Insert brakes screeching to a halt right HERE.)

Um, what?

Now, I might sound like I can be outspoken since I write on Ye Olde Blogge, but in real life, I keep pretty quiet most of the time. However…since my husband and I are both musicians and so are some of our dear friends, I couldn’t let this one slide. Also…there is nothing that can make my little responsible brain hurt any more than hearing we are unreliable and irresponsible.

I took a deep breath and said, “Not ALL musicians are flakey.” And eventually, “I think you’re misusing the word flakey and might mean spacy.”

This lead to a fun conversation. Truly. Yes, she really was misusing the word a bit, but she also meant exactly what she was saying. She didn’t necessarily mean that WE were irresponsible, but I think the general impression of musicians is still FLAKE in large, raging letters. (We’re fine, still good friends, no harm done.) Let me insert here that this post wasn’t really intended to be about musicians at all, just the words…but while we’re on the subject, yes, I know a lot of flakey musicians too. There are also flakey~ Insert Profession Here…

If we do keep musicians in the example, though, I know some of the hardest working musicians and to get where they’ve gotten in life, it hasn’t been through Flakiness or Flightiness.

Spacy, on the other hand…that’s another story.

Since that lunch, I keep hearing these words being misused and I think it is giving Spacy a bad name.

I’ve been told I was weird since junior high and that label has followed me around to this day. My daughter says people at school tell her she’s weird all the time too. The difference is, when I was a kid, I didn’t know what they meant and it hurt my feelings. With my daughter, she knows she’s different and she likes being that way. She loves her weird parents too and loves that we’re an unusual lot.

I do wish I wasn’t so spacy because I could get a lot more done…but here’s the good side of it:

I can imagine whole worlds inside my head. (Yes, I know that sounds crazy, but that’s where stories are made.)

I can visualize what I want things to look like~ pictures, the house, jewelry, etc.

I can cope when things are hard, by not letting it get in too deep…or by going to my imaginative place.

I can tune you out if I don’t like what you’re saying. Ha! Just kidding. Kind of. Call me a FLAKE and I’ll snap out of my SPACE.

I could go on and on about this subject, I think. The truth of the matter is that I probably have ADD or something and shouldn’t be such a Spokesperson for the Spacy, but it’s a label I don’t mind carrying. Let’s save Flakey and Flighty for people we don’t like.

Posted in Creativity, October 2011, Touchy Subjects, Uncategorized | 5 Comments »

Pop the Bubble

October 4, 2011

I confess that I have often wished I didn’t have to meet another single new person. Ever. Again. I have so many people in my life, I don’t have time to love all of them the way I should, why would I want more? I don’t know how many times I’ve thought, I don’t need another single friend. I’ve got enough good ones already.

So when the phrases, Enlarge your circle, Widen your bubble, Pop your bubble, began bouncing around in my head…Hello, God, don’t mess with me. I like my bubble…I may or may not have had some internal arguments raging. OK, at times it’s like a volcano inside my head. So there.

I wrote these phrases on a post it note and put it in a drawer so I wouldn’t have to deal with it just yet.

It’s been haunting me ever since.

After all, I’m a constant contradiction.

I love people; I dislike people.

I never want to leave my house; I want to travel the world.

I love God; I don’t always love Christians.

Let’s just start with that for now…no need to go into ALL the contradictions, we’d be here all day…

I enjoy having friends over, eating a good meal and having REAL, down-to-earth, raw conversation. When I’m with close friends, my heart is full to the brim. I genuinely love that.

It’s the forced, surface talk, strained get-togethers that make me want to dunk my head under water and not ever come out. I’ve always felt that way, but the older I get, the more I truly cannot bear the forced.

And then you meet someone new who just completely wipes out all your preconceived thoughts and you feel like you have known them forever after talking for 10 minutes. I met that person last Friday and have seen her twice since then. Already, I know she is a lifelong friend~ the connection is that strong.

So, yeah, God…I’m good with more friends. If they’re the right ones. Feel free to nudge again sometime.

Shoot.

It’s way bigger than that.

Dagnabbit.

Every Sunday, I’m forced to flush any prejudices down the toilet and love people right where they are. People from all walks of life come to my church and for a blissful hour and a half, we are ALL the same. And it is in this time of clarity that I know this is how God sees us all…ALL THE TIME. We are all hurt, broken, damaged people. We are all struggling with the same issues, if it isn’t one vice, it’s another. We are certainly all struggling to love like we should. I’ve never been around so many hung-over, addiction-bound, grief-stricken people in all my life. I know them. I am one. No, I’ve never done heroin, but there are other addictions, other sorrows, that are more easily hidden. It puts us all on the same map.

There is a small congregation of cigarette smokers who gather outside the church when service is over. I tell the kids not to inhale as we’re walking to the car.

There are some who get clean for a while and then go back to their former life. Some we never see again, others keep trying. Thank GOD.

At first it bothered me that my kids were exposed to all of this AT CHURCH. Not just seeing addictions firsthand, but some people don’t always smell the best. Sometimes they ask me for money. Sometimes they say inappropriate things and I’m uncomfortable.

But where better to learn about life? Where better to know there is a God who loves us all? Where else will people get help and find a Savior?

And even then…when they do, everyone will not look, sound, smell, BE…like me.

We get in the car and we talk about the issues by name…because they have a name. It isn’t just Addiction, it’s George and Sharon and Michael…

Enlarge your circle.

Widen your bubble.

Pop your bubble.

Try it. It will turn your life upside down. But you will see beauty in the dirt. You will see a God you can believe in. You will find love like you’ve never known.

Now, I’m not saying I have it all worked out. I still burrow deep and try to get inside that bubble again. It is safe, after all. But that’s why I’ve written it down. That’s why I say it out loud. And when I get in too far inside my own walls, that’s when God nudges me again. It’s worth it.

Posted in Addiction, Change, Friends, Ministry, October 2011, Touchy Subjects | 19 Comments »

Struggling with Addiction

July 27, 2011

My son has been trying to give up his thumb for a long time now. Before Kindergarten last year, he decided he was going to give it up…the bribe was right~ he could have Bowser’s Inside Story DS game if he gave it up. He did it. It was hard, but he would come cuddle with us when he felt like sucking his thumb, do other things to distract himself and before we knew it, we were buying him a game.

Then he had a really scary episode with asthma. It involved nearly passing out on the bathroom floor, an ambulance ride and an ER visit. On the ride home, he sucked his thumb. And we let him!

Since then he has struggled again with letting it go. He thinks he can’t stop one day and the next, he’ll find something that he thinks will help him get over it. On Monday, he bought a stuffed Luigi and said he thought it was going to help him stop sucking his thumb.

I don’t understand it. I’ve tried sucking my thumb and I have no desire to do it again. It doesn’t appeal to me.

It isn’t my addiction.

It might seem silly to use a thumb sucking boy as an example for the addictions that are hard to break. But the point is valid~ we all have those things that we struggle to give up. And we don’t understand other people’s addictions when they are not our own. Many times, I’ve heard people criticize others for the habits they can’t break. They don’t understand how someone can be an alcoholic or use drugs or why can’t they just stop smoking or eating or fill-in-the-blank?!…but they have their own addictions…ones that can be kept secret or that fall in the “Acceptable” category.

I have friends who have struggled with every sort of addiction and they want to be free of it. Other friends aren’t ready and may never be, but they’re addicted just the same. It can be hard to be the observer at times. You want to just shake them out of their mess or talk them into doing the right thing. But it isn’t up to me. All I can do is love them and care for them. Talk straight? Yes. Be there for them? Absolutely. Pray? Oh, without question, yes. But ultimately, I cannot fix them.

I didn’t know Amy Winehouse personally, but her story hits so close to home for me. I have a brother who was addicted to heavy drugs for many years and felt like any day we could get a phone call saying he was gone. It has shaken me up to hear some making comments about Amy, such as, “She should have said, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’” referring to her Rehab song and then laugh, as if it’s all a big joke. She lost her fight. She has a family who is crushed and brokenhearted.

I’ve seen videos of her from a long time ago and she was such a beautiful girl. Her voice was exceptional and unique and she had a sarcastic, quirky sense of humor. I am so sad that drugs took over her life. It feels like she was sort of thrown away once her drug use became openly rampant. People didn’t take her seriously and she became the brunt of a lot of late-night television jokes.

I wonder what we all could have done differently to help her.

For my friend who is especially struggling right now with a painful addiction, I will never give up fighting for you. Never. I may not know what to do to help, but I will always pray, always listen, always love. I pray for wisdom, deliverance, and peace to those struggling and not knowing how to get out of that destructive behavior. God will deliver. He will set free. All at once and one day at a time…the cycle can be broken.

As for my thumb-sucking little man, we’re proud of every baby step…every day he goes without sucking his thumb is progress. Every time he says he’s quitting, we support and believe in him. And when he fails again, we try to understand and get him through it. That’s all I know to do.

The cool thing is~ my Father in heaven loves me that very same way…only more.

Posted in Addiction, Amy Winehouse, July 2011, Touchy Subjects | 12 Comments »