So love is hard And love is tough

2009-03-18T14:03:00.001-04:00

Not much to say right now so I'll share a few pictures. I want to write, and I want to post here, but I'm not beating myself up over not doing it.

Recycling and Repurposing

2009-01-18T11:22:00.005-05:00

I'm showing this picture for Sassy Pricilla because she wanted to see the secret compartment books I made. They're in the right of the picture, and the open one has some trinkets we put in for my nephew. The dress was made from an old men's polo shirt, and the little totebag was my rescue of a pajama pants pattern gone bad.

I made this little tree from Martha's tutorial with the papers cut out for the secret compartment book.

We still have lots of papers left from the books (I made the books for two nephews), and I was inspired by Sassy Pricilla's post on a Valentine's bunting and Maya*Made's bunting tutorial. I used watercolor crayons to give it some color.

Yessir, I do believe we have the ugliest curtains and windows on the internet.Do your best to ignore them. And ignore the fact that the bunting is not centered over the window. I love it anyway.

Maya*Made had a tutorial on making a fall newspaper bunting, and we made one in the fall. Here it is after I took it down.

Kitchen Magic

2009-01-18T11:15:00.000-05:00

Showing Up

2009-01-16T12:32:00.003-05:00

It's been a crazy week. Sam started coughing on Saturday night (in a tent, on a cub scout camp out), had fever on Sunday, and was still coughing on Monday. I'm pretty laid back when my kids are sick. I don't run to the dr. I don't give tylenol for a fever except at night to help them sleep. For some reason I made a dr's appt for Tuesday afternoon. And it turns out I was wise to do so. As she listened to his lungs the dr asked "does he have asthma?" Nope. So he's got bronchitis or pneumonia. So I've been home all week, administering nebulizer treatments, dispensing steroids and antibiotics. The one day Erik was going to use a sick day to care for him, his boss asked him to do something special. So there went that.

I've completely checked out this week- surfing the web all day as Sam watches tv or reads. I've squandered a great opportunity to be home and DO STUFF! I could have sewed, crafted, written, read. I did some dishes and some laundry, but that's about it. I did take care of my boy, but I wasn't necessarily present with him.

November and December were wonderful for me. I baked, cooked, sewed, created. It was wonderful, I felt that ever elusive flow. And then it just seemed to vanish after the holidays. Maybe having the holiday as a deadline for my creativity helped, I don't know. I know I've felt a little adrift since I ended my daily photography on December 31st.

Right before New Year's Eve I signed up for Jen Louden's Virtual Retreat. A lot of the topics appealed to me, and I've always enjoyed Jen's books. It wasn't too pricey, and I can listen to the recordings after the weekend if I can't catch all the ones I want to hear in real time. Last night I'm thinking how on earth will I do this? I really, really need to get my heart and my brain aligned again. So I decided at a minimum that I would make the first call this morning at 10 am.

I lit some candles and dialed the conference number. I didn't know what to expect. Jen led us through some relaxation breathing. It felt wonderful to be still, with purpose, as opposed to passing out in bed at midnight. We did some journaling, and that is when the ideas started flowing. How could I retreat and act with purpose as I go about my daily life- the life that has a lung re-check at two and all that other stuff? Jen talked about giving up our shadow comforts or time monsters for the weekend. Ooh boy do I have a lot of these. She also talked about doing the things you normally do in a different way. This is what I've worked out.

I'm going to do as much as I can this weekend using candle light. I did the dishes by candle light, I lit about six big candles. I took out a new scented dish soap, even though the unscented one is not quite empty yet. I am drinking my water in a wine glass. I sprinkled some ylang ylang essential oil on top of the Bon Ami when I cleaned out the sink. I did a pilates tape that I've been telling myself I was going to try for a few months now. I burned a paper containing the time monster I am giving up this weekend- mindless surfing on the internet.

What do I want out of the retreat? I want to align my heart and my head so that I can show up. I don't know what happened these first days of 2009, but I have not been living my values. It came pretty naturally at the end of last year, and somehow I've fallen off the path. This weekend I am showing up.

Mama, do you see yourself?

2009-01-15T10:24:00.003-05:00

I have a hard time understanding people who don't believe in evolution. I understand faith, and for me there is room for both.

And when I see a video like this I am less able to understand how a person could deny that we are related to gorillas and chimps.I recognize myself in this mother mother- patting baby's bottom, lying down and nursing and feeling that oxytocin rush of relaxation. Don't you see yourself in this mama's eyes?

Quadruple Word Score

2009-01-09T21:30:00.002-05:00

I've had a spare, not in great shape Scrabble game for quite a while. A few months ago I decided I wanted to make napkin rings out of them.

Hard to believe a family with so many cloth napkins hasn't had any napkin rings.

Took me a long time to figure out how I could do it.

I've always wanted a dremel tool. We got a Lowe's card from my in-law's for the holidays, and I told my husband- I want a dremel! And he picked one up for me. I already had some jewlery wire in anticipation of making them.

And now we have napkin rings.

Easy Peasy Polo Shirt to Kid's Dress

2008-12-17T12:42:00.002-05:00

No-BloPoMo and other news

2008-12-09T15:53:00.002-05:00

So this year instead of trying to post every day in November I thought it'd be fun not to post at all. har har har. I actually did want to do NaBloPoMo this year but knew that I'd be setting myself up for stress and frustration. I'm glad I just said no to myself.

The good news is that things are going really well and I've been busy. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving and I am having fun making things for the Dec holidays. Our laptop died and our desktop is decrepit. We bought an early Chanukah gift- a sweet new iMac and I am loving it.

One more tidbit: an article I wrote about my first time celebrating Christmas was published today! http://interfaithfamily.com/holidays/hanukkah_and_christmas/Babys_First_Christmas.shtml. I think I mentioned working on it here a few months ago.

I miss writing here, and I have a lot of half-written posts in my head, but I am not sure I'll get to write them before the start of 2009.

So let me get this straight

2008-10-29T13:13:00.000-04:00

Making sure that people have food, shelter, and health insurance is considered socialism, but bailing out banks, insurance companies, and car manufacturers is responsible capitalism?

Welfare and medicaid are bad because they throw money at lazy good-for-nothings who don't work, but subsidies to corporate farms to grow corn for livestock on corporate farms or to help American sugar farmers compete with other sugar farmers is good?

It is bad for an intellectual to run for president, despite the ill effects of the last eight years of an anti-intellectual in the Oval Office?

Did you realize that it is ok to criticize a Democratic president for operating under a deficit (Carter), but perfectly ok for a Republican to run up the largest deficit ever (Bush II)?

um, okay.

A lovely post here: http://droolstreet.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-am-real-american.html

Conversations

2008-10-24T01:05:00.003-04:00

Maya: Mama, wait, stop. I just want to tell you something.
Maya: I just, I just really like being with people. I like people, I like friends, I like doing things with people.
Me, in my head: omg you poor child, you were so born to the wrong mom.
Me, outloud: Maya, that is so great that you know that about yourself. I know you like to be with people, and I will try to make sure you can have play dates and get togethers. I like to be with people too, but I also need a lot of alone or quiet time.

***

Maya: What do you call Grandpa Ken
Me: um, Ken?
Maya: yeah, what do you call him? You know, like I call him Grandpa Ken, but he's married to your mom so what is he? What is he for you?
Me: ohhh, ok. Well, I was kind of big when he married Grandma Dana. I never lived in his house, and he was never really my step-dad (she's familiar with the concept because some of her friends have step-dads). I do love Grandpa Ken a lot, he's so special in our family, but I don't have a special name for him. I just call him Ken.

***

Erik: Why are you so worked up about everything! (sort of yelling)
Me: That's like me asking you why do you have to be so bald! I'm high strung! You're bald! Deal with it.
Both: hysterical laughter

***

Me: Maya, you may have some money for the book fair, but you may not buy a character book.

Maya: like, no Bratz, Strawberry Shortcake, no princesses?

Me: Right.

Maya: (starting to feel an injustice has been done to her) But Mama! If I can't buy a book about a character what would it be about? Please? It has to have a character or else it is not a book!

Me: nononono- yes, you are right, books are about characters, but I am talking about a specific type of book, the type that has some type of toy character on the cover. Do you know what I mean?

Maya: ok. Yes. I get it.

Me: Whew.

A way in which I am not very different from my 17 year old self

2008-10-23T10:57:00.000-04:00

One day when I was 17 my parents came home from work and asked us to turn General Hospital off. My father proceeded to tell us that he was in love with someone else and that my parents would be divorcing. I have no memories of the words he said after I confirmed that he was not in fact joking. In the days and weeks that followed I had many aggressive thoughts about E (the other woman). I took out my hostility while chopping vegetables, or while thinking about chopping vegetables. I wished she would die. When my dad and E got an apartment together, I dreaded speaking to her. If she picked up the phone, I would very formally ask "May I speak to Arthur, please?" I refused his offers of bringing her to dinner with us, or an offer of a vacation which included her. Don't worry, I had plenty of hostility for my dad--he was just as culpable as she was.

Eventually I came around. I was tired of being so angry all of the time. I spoke to E. I rode in the same vehicle as her. I didn't get sick when she came to my graduation party, though I did have a glass of wine before she arrived with my dad. And when she died of breast cancer a year or two after they married, I felt terrible.

So, I thought I was past those vindictive feelings. Apparently not! A few years ago my dad went out with a woman I despised. She was awful. She manipulated him terribly. They'd break up and then get back together. He knew I didn't like her so he'd try to keep it secret--impossible since I work for him. They are finally done for good, but maintain a business relationship.

I had to write a check for her the other day. I found myself mentally putting hoaxes on it, and I very nearly spit in the envelope when I was getting it ready to mail. When I stopped myself I cracked up, and immediately recognized the 17 year old me.

Peek-a-boo

2008-10-10T11:30:00.002-04:00

I'm here, I'm here. I really am.

What I've been up to:

on a Harry Potter marathon with Sam. He read book one ages ago but not the others. I announced I was going to read them all, and he took off along with me. We're having so much fun, though I do need to keep reminding him not to tell me any details! He's one book ahead of me. I've threatened to duct tape his mouth closed, with a slit for liquid nutrition.
observing Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. This has probably been my least angst-filled High Holy Days since I've had kids. Yay me!
writing an article for publication on a web-zine. For pay! More on that when it is published.
trying to renew my enthusiasm for my photo project. I have missed more days than I'd have liked, and find myself getting a little bored. But I've been pushing through this week and have had fun taking pictures. Now I just need to catch up on posting a month's worth of photos. Yikes!
planning holiday gift crafting, cooking new recipes, and getting ready for my sister and her family to visit in a few weeks. Can't wait to meet my new nephew, who is a butterball!

Cool Beans

2008-09-22T10:46:00.002-04:00

I've tried cooking with dry beans a bunch of times. They usually come out barely edible- sort of mealy feeling and not fully cooked, despite hours of soaking and cooking.

Earlier this year I saw this post on Cathy's blog http://growingcurious.typepad.com/growing_curious/2008/04/cathys-no-soak.html. I made some black beans and used them for soup shortly afterwards. And omg! It works- perfect beans.

I made some more beans this weekend, some lovely garbanzos. Delicious. I used them in a stew from Madhur Jaffrey's World Vegetarian.

This morning I picked up a bag of great northern beans at the store, love those and can't wait to make something with them. I was talking about cooking with my friend Maria yesterday. She asked why was I making beans from scratch, since good canned beans are so readily available. I wasn't really sure, except that I love a good cooking challenge, and it drove me bonkers that my previous efforts were inedible!

In other food news, Sam has been on a new food streak. Mind you, he hasn't really loved most of what he has tried, but hey, he's trying! He tried spinach and got a bite or two down by holding his nose. We just made it plain, but I bet he would like it made another way. We'll try again. He tried a grape. He didn't care for the skin; his sister helpfully asked if we could peel them for him. Um, no thanks. He tried a radish in school. He ate some sweet potato, and did enjoy that. Hooray! A week ago I bought an artichoke, at his request. I made it last night, and he ate a few leaves dipped in honey mustard dressing. He says he'd eat it again if we make it.

I think both of my kids eat pretty well, but Sam is definitely persnickety. But, hey, so was I.

In Defense of Junie B. Jones

2008-09-21T23:49:00.001-04:00

Dear Junie B. Jones

I know there are parents who don't like you, Junie B. Parents who don't care for your grammar, your spelling, or your antics.

I am not one of those parents. Junie, Thank you for bringing me laughter. I'm talking about I can't read, I can't breathe laughter. I'm talking my daughter sternly telling me "stop laughing and READ the book!" laughter. I laugh harder when I remember by son telling me the same thing four years ago. As my husband sometimes points out, I'm kind of high strung, not to mention overly serious-- and this type of let it all hang out, uncontrolled laughter doesn't come frequently. It's such a wonderful, free feeling, and I thank you for allowing me to experience it with my kids.

She let me have Blow-pops for Breakfast

2008-09-05T12:54:00.003-04:00

When I was a little girl, my Aunt Ilene babysat me quite a bit. One of my earliest and dearest memories is when I stayed with her while my mother was in the hospital giving birth to my sister. I remember returning to my aunt's apartment building, and sitting down in the lobby to put on a beautiful, gold, sparkly, plastic pair of high-heels. I can hear the clip-clip-clip as we walk to the elevator, and I remember showing the shoes off to my grandma who was upstairs in the apartment.

My aunt and her family eventually moved out of Brooklyn to Long Island. We spent many a fun-filled weekend there, playing with my cousins and the other neighborhood kids. We loved my aunt, and knew she loved us. So it was only natural, when my father told us that he'd had an affair and that my parents were getting divorced, that I'd want to go be with Aunt Ilene.

Before my parents sat us down that June afternoon, we knew something strange was going on in our house. My mom had lost a lot of weight, and I worried that she was dying. When I found out why she lost the weight, I felt a great responsibility to be strong for her, and to be angry at my father on her behalf. I knew how much my mother loved me (a subject for a post of its own). But I knew I needed comforting, and I didn't feel I could ask that of her.

So my dad took me out to Suffolk county, and I spent a few days there, soaking in the love and hanging out. I'll never forget the first morning. My aunt had gone to the office, and called to check on me. She asked "what'd you have for breakfast?" When I answered "two Blow-pops," she responded "that's good." No- ohmygosh that's no good! You'd better eat something else! Just acceptance. And love.

I told both of these stories at my aunt's 60th birthday party this summer. I ended by saying that everyone needs an Aunt Ilene, who'll let them have Blow-pops for breakfast. The party was a surprise, and she was shocked to see my family and me there. I shared some memories that my sister emailed to me since she wasn't able to come to the party. I made it through my stories without tears, but couldn't read the last line of my sister's email through my tears.

This post inspired by today's post on Supersisters- a new blog by Jen Lemen and two of her equally amazing sisters.

Signs that the Apocalypse is Nigh or

2008-08-27T22:02:00.003-04:00

at least that the tween and teen years will be scary:

Sam's teacher told the class that there is a foul odor in the room after PE, and could they all please start wearing deodorant. And so today I helped my first baby choose some deodorant. Yikes. Little sister had to have some too, of course.

Yesterday I locked the bedroom door when I needed a break from Maya. First she wailed and banged on the door. Then she was quiet, and I heard sort of scratching on the door. All of the sudden the door opened. She had unlocked the door with a barrette. She is six. Is climbing out windows to hang with friends far behind? This morning we talked a little about respecting personal space. I asked what made her think of trying to open the door. Apparently she saw it on iCarly. sigh.

On a more uplifting note, lately I have seen glimpses of my face in Maya's face. What do you think?

Sam drew this over the summer- Pac Man as Picasso would see him

Always lurking

2008-08-22T10:02:00.009-04:00

When my grandmother was a young girl, her mother died suddenly. She was only 39, dead of a heart attack. Her father was an alcoholic, whenever she talks about him the adjective involved is usually 'jerk'. She bounced from foster home to foster home until she was 18, and could live on her own.

At 39 my grandmother had a nervous breakdown. She wouldn't leave the house; neighbors did the shopping and made sure the three children got to school. I know she was treated with medication, but I'm not sure what would have been used at that time (about 1959). My father was 13 years old and has no memory whatsoever of this time. My aunts, both younger than him, cannot believe he doesn't remember anything about this time in their lives. I asked my first therapist about it, and she felt it was totally normal for a boy of that age to have blocked the memory.

I don't know how long it took, but grandma did improve, and went on to live a very active life, despite the anxiety she lived with on a regular basis. She's always been busy, doing for others- baking, crafting, sewing, volunteering, caring for. I've always been in awe of her life of service, especially in light of her childhood.

I spoke to her last week; she often calls the office and knows she might catch my dad or me. She said she hadn't been feeling well lately. I thought she sounded stuffy so I asked if she'd had a cold. No, she said, I've been having terrible anxiety and panic attacks. She asked if I knew about her breakdown. She told me that when she was 39 she thought that she would die, since her mother died at 39. Recently more of her friends are dying, and she also heard from a friend whose daughter died after a long battle with cancer. She's feeling anxious about dying.

She did go see her doctor, and has found some relief from the medicines he prescribed her. I believe she's been on anti-anxiety medications for a very long time, but I don't know what she takes, and I don't know what the doctor gave her recently.

I vowed to myself that I would make sure to call her at least once a week. I spoke to her yesterday. She says she's coming along; she was going to have her hair done and then going to play mah jong, which she'd skipped last week. She still doesn't feel up to doing everything she usually does, but she's resisting the urge to hide out, and forcing herself to get out of the house and do things.

It breaks my heart that she's struggling so. I wish I could run up to NY and wrap my arms around her. She moved from San Diego back to NY, to be closer to family, about two years ago. She's been so happy. It's scary to know that anxiety can lay you low, even when you take care of yourself, even when you know you have anxiety. It can sneak up on you and leave you paralyzed before you even know what is happening. I don't think I've fully accepted that yet. I sort of have my fingers crossed that my current medication will last for a long time, that I'll continue to use and develop productive coping strategies, and never be laid low again. But that is probably just a dream.

It's going to be ok, grandma. You've beaten back this beast before, and I know you can do it again.

If I Twittered

2008-08-20T12:55:00.002-04:00

I'd say

swimmers are hot
so are beach volleyball ladies
hooray, school started Monday
boo, day off for tropical storm fay
hooray, they're back at school
I have a lot of pictures to post on the other blog but haven't been on the computer as much lately
why? Lots of books!
husband has initiated some decluttering sessions- hooray hooray!
marriage is hard
so is parenting

Belated Thanks and things to be grateful for

2008-08-08T17:20:00.000-04:00

Thank you, all of you, for your kind and dear comments. I know that I have friends in California, Oregon, Texas, Massachusetts, Spain, Australia, and more. I am truly grateful to all of you. I am going to try not to be so hard on myself- funny, isn't it, that I'm pretty good at not judging other people.

In reading your comments I realized that I have a hard time reading nice things about myself! And that because it makes me a little uncomfortable, I have delayed thanking some of you. My mother was very particular about sending thank you notes, so not thanking people for the beautiful things they've said about me makes me feel even more uncomfortable!

Thank you Bipolarlawyercook for posting about my photo blog, and for these kind words as well. It's hard for me to even read that second post, because posting empathetic comments is really important to me, and I totally blush knowing that you think I succeed at it. Being understood is so important to me, and I work hard at letting others know I understand them. Thank you.

Kiandra gave me an award. Again- so hard to read her wonderful words that are talking about me! Thank you!

When I had the chance to introduce myself to Suna I didn't- I was too shy/introverted/in awe of her. At that time I didn't know that she too is introverted and fights some of the same battles with her mind that I do. Thank you Suna for saying I make your day.

***

On July 22nd, my sister had her second little boy. He's just gorgeous from photos and Skype, and we here in FL might burst before we get to meet him in October. And his big brother is doing a great job being gentle.

***

One day I got to work early and noticed some flowers I'd never seen before.

I decided I'd take some pictures when I left for the day.

When I went to take the pictures, the flowers were gone!

They were back the next morning. These smartie Florida plants close up shop in the scorching heat, only sharing themselves during the relatively cool early hours.

Moooom, I Want To!

2008-08-07T15:47:00.004-04:00

Maya wants a lot of things. She hasn't quite learned that we sometimes have to wait for the things we want.

On Tuesday she wanted to sew a skirt she'd gotten too tall for into a pocketbook. Even though I was not really excited about the idea of dragging out the machine, making space on the table, and sewing it, I was even less excited to endure a fit. So I got out the machine.

And? I had a good time. Easy peasy- no pattern, just wing it. Input from Maya on the pseudo-appliques on the front (she asked about embroidering something which would have taken me a few years probably and then said- hey! we can sew a shape on). So nice to sew, and so nice to be present with my kids.

a local treasure

2008-08-02T10:31:00.002-04:00

Florida Southern College, in Lakeland, Florida, is home to the largest, one-site collection of Frank Lloyd Wright buildings in the world.

My mom, her husband, and I went to visit when they were here a few weeks ago.

A Missed Opportunity and a Sad, Sad Heart

2008-07-31T19:28:00.004-04:00

I said goodbye to someone today, someone I'd always hoped would become a good friend. She's been our amazing children's room librarian for the past few years. We'd talk and I'd find myself wishing I could ask her out for coffee or something. I'm just missing that friendship gene or something- I have no idea how to make that leap from acquaintance to friend.

I was a bit of a shrew this afternoon with the kids. I managed to cook some very yummy corn soup (a weight watchers recipe) before totally losing it and taking a xanax. I lay down to nurse my bruised heart; Erik came home. There were tears, a back rub and even a little bit of feeling better.

I feel sad that she won't be at the library when we visit. I'm sick that I never took the jump and invited her and her husband to dinner. I'm sad for friendships that I've had, but no longer have- like every close and meaningful friendship I ever had in college. Adding fuel to this nostalgic fire is a mix tape that a college friend made for me. Erik came across it tonight, and hearing it play I'm missing my friend Kurt, remembering the time we danced to Deee-Lite at Wigstock. I wonder what these old friends are up to, and because I can't help myself, wonder how lame my years since college would seem against the accomplishments I imagine they've filled their cv's with.

I really wanted to figure out this friends thing this summer. I wanted to have people over, couples I think my husband and I would both enjoy getting to know as more than "Maya and Sam's mom and dad." We have a few more weeks till school starts, and this weekend I am going to formulate a plan for at least one get together before then.

edited to add: there've been a few times this summer when I've read a blog post and just felt heartbroken. Usually when one blogger that I really admire and feel a kinship with mentions their friendship with another blogger that I really admire. I'm so jealous, wanting to be their friend so badly, wanting them to know how much their writing resonates with me. It's silly, and yet not silly. Where are my soul-sisters? Where's my tribe? And more often than not- what is wrong with me?

baby steps back to blogging

2008-07-30T13:21:00.005-04:00

We are home from the big road trip. Overall we had a great time, along with a few challenging moments. I have a zillion pictures to share, and I have all kinds of things I want to write. I haven't gotten switched from thinking about posting to posting. I read this meme on Krista's blog the other night and realized I'd enjoy looking back and that it would get me writing here again. So...

20 Years ago: I was 18. I'd graduated from high school and attended orientation at NYU. People I met that week were my friends all through college...wish I could say that I was still in touch with them. I also spent my first summer working at Great Gull Island, an island research station that changed my life.

15 Years ago: I was 23 and had moved Panama City, FL with Erik. It was the beginnning of a long, hard adjustment to life in Florida. I worked at Lechter's, a kitchen store at the mall.

10 Years ago: I was 28. We lived in Altamonte Springs, near Orlando, and were hoping a baby would be in our future. I think I got pregnant the next month! I was out of retail and had been working for my Dad for under a year.

5 Years ago: I was 33. We lived in our present home in a rural part of Florida, Sam was 4 and Maya was 1.5. We took a long, wonderful summer trip in California, which included a breastfeeding and parenting conference.

3 Years ago: I was 35. My sister had just returned to the States after living in Uzbekistan for a few years. She was due with her first baby. Our summer road trip was to Washington, DC, and we stayed with a good friend (along with a bunch of mutual good friends!) in her beautiful Georgetown home. My sister was staying there too. It was a fun time! And, yep, I went to a conference while there.

1 Year ago: I was 37 and freaking the heck out. I spent a lot of the summer in bed, depressed and anxious. I took the lactation boards (and passed). I went to Chicago for a conference.

Yesterday: I took the kids to their respective camps, went to the store, went to work, went to a different store, picked the kids up, and went home to exercise. I did a Walk Away the Pounds dvd- I'm officially middle aged.

Today I: brought the kids to camp and came to work. I plan to exercise this afternoon (going for 3 days in a row) and to do a crafty project of some sort with the kids.

Tomorrow I Will: work. Do something fun and creative with the kids. Go to a Weight Watchers meeting. Exercise.

In the next 5 years: I will pass the GRE, be accepted to a masters of public health program, finish the program, and find a meaningful, fulfilling job in the field. I will have one teenager (eek!) and one tween. I will go on adventures with my husband.

Fell off My Bike

2008-07-09T13:47:00.003-04:00

Do you remember that moment when you learned to ride your bicycle when you realized you were actually doing it? And as you reveled in the air going through your hair you faltered just for a second and promptly fell on your head?

That's where I've been the past two weeks. June was great. Filled with a lot of fun stuff, maybe a little too full. I was handling things, staying positive, taking one day at a time instead of worrying about my month full of busy-ness, parenting in a way that is meaningful and important to me, and most of all cheering my switch to Zoloft. And then boom, I fell.

We did not spend an entire weekend at home in June, and we won't spend a single July weekend at home either. I think one of my keys to sanity is to have downtime at home. May was so busy with end of the school year activities and appointments; I was proud that instead of panicking 'how will I do it all' I just told myself to look no further than the day at hand. And it was fabulous. I felt so capable, so calm.

June brought Maya's dance recital (a wonderful, but long, long day), a trip to NY, a family birthday party to attend in Gainesville, and then July 4th with my in-laws. The laundry was piled up. Dishes were in the sink even though we were not home. The children, and everyone else for that matter, got on my nerves incessantly. Way too much yelling at the kids and arguing with Erik. Lots of eating anything that wasn't nailed down. I dreaded making the July 4th trip, being away from home, having to be social and cordial with others. Even my husband wondered if my medicine stopped working. I must have had a strange, faraway look on my face, as he doesn't always know when I'm feeling badly. Everything was just becoming too much.

I indulged in several naps on July 4th, and slept a bunch despite the various events we attended. When I woke up on the 5th things didn't seem as awful as they had the whole week had. The rest of the weekend was nice, and when we got home I started in on the mountain of laundry. I'm still feeling more irritated by little things than I'd like to be, the house is messier than I'd like (yep, dishes still in sink. At least they're different dishes than before.), but for the most part I feel like I've climbed my way out of this hole. We're heading out on a roadtrip on Saturday. I'm feeling ok about the packing.

I'm reminding myself to return to basics. To remember hope. To enjoy the small things. To let go of perfection.

Mmmmm, cake

2008-06-11T23:37:00.002-04:00

Back in April I bookmarked Heidi Kenney's campfire cake because I had a feeling Sam would love it for his birthday. And when he said he wanted to have a camping sleepover party it was the only choice.

Oh my gosh, did I have fun making this cake. The center filling is dulce de leche, made by boiling an unopened can of sweetened condensed milk for three hours. There are no words- heavenly! Sam and I picked the chocolate cake recipe from one of my cookbooks; it was a not-quite flourless cake (only 1/4 c) and was just chocolaty and delicious. The fudge style frosting was also delicious.

Damn. Wish I had a slice now.

The Girl Effect

2008-06-10T22:41:00.002-04:00

I so want to believe that this is true- that the men would respect the female business owners who brought fresh water to their villages, and that these men would invite these women to the village councils. But somehow I'm completely cynical; I think the misogyny in our world is too profound to overcome.

In my women's studies classes I would puzzle over the various theories that sought to explain centuries of inequality . None of them ever made sense to me. In the make-believe world in my head, men are awed by women's reproductive powers. They honor women and their life-giving bodies, they honor the at-home work of raising children- the citizens of the future!

I want to be wrong. I want the world to be transformed. I do believe that when girls go to school, their lives and the lives of their families can be transformed. But I think that those with the power cling to it too desperately to ever have the chance to see that the more good there is in the world, the more good there is for everyone.

Turn Back the Clock? No

2008-06-08T22:45:00.002-04:00

My laptop is unwell- poor thing can't charge because the jack is wiggly. I've known this for a while and managed, but I think we're at the point of no return. I need to get it in for service.

In the meantime, thankfully, I have an older laptop from my Dad. When I turned it on so that Sam could play with a new program, there was a message about the time/date setting. I think the battery on this thing doesn't stay charged, or something. In any case, the date was set as January 1, 2000.

I turned that over in my mind a bit later, and realized, no, I wouldn't turn back time. Wouldn't change a thing. Have there been moments when I wished for a do-over? Oh yes. Of course. All in all though, I think it's been a good journey, and the now is good too. So I wouldn't do it over, and I'm happy to be in 2008 and not back in 2000.

Nine Years

2008-06-06T23:35:00.003-04:00

Happy Birthday my sweet boy. It's nine years since I met you, nine years that you've been teaching me. Can't wait to see where else you and I will go on this path of motherhood/son-hood.

My Heart is Full

2008-06-03T11:46:00.004-04:00

Yesterday was the last day of school, and I spent a wonderful morning there. The school holds an awards program for 3rd, 4th, and 5th grades. Although I don't have a 5th grader, I had tears in my eyes as the principal said goodbye to them.

It was such a wonderful morning. My heart was full to bursting all day. Yes, I am proud of Sam for his accomplishments and the recognition he got from his teachers. More than that though, I am just full of love for our school, our teachers, and the wonderful, warm community that makes up our school. It was fabulous hearing about the successes the 5th graders had this year--one won a statewide essay contest, another won a statewide music competition, one young person has had straight A's since Kindergarten. I was so proud of them, their families, and their teachers.

After the awards assembly Sam's teacher invited parents back of to the classroom where he handed out class awards and spoke a few heartfelt words about each child. He is such a wonderful man, and it was great hearing him talk about each child and give them a hug. All of the children at our school hope that they will have him for third grade. I believe it is because they know that he genuinely enjoys and respects children. He loves his job, he's enthusiastic about teaching, and he helps his students be enthusiastic about reading. He got choked up when he was talking about Sam, and more than ever I wished that Sam could somehow stay in his class for another year. I know that Sam will be in a new classroom come August, and that there will be more adventures, learning, and love no matter who his teacher is.

In the afternoon I went to Maya's class luau. The kids were adorable, and the boys especially had a great time dancing. My sweet girl is so proud to be moving on to first grade. She's really grown a lot, and learned so very much. Tonight she came to me quietly crying; she was crying for her teacher, she misses her already. She sat on my lap and typed out an email to her.

It's been a fantastic school year. We're going to do a lot of fun stuff this summer, and then we'll be back at school ready for new experiences, challenges, and learning opportunities.

Ehh, so it ain't love Thursday anymore

2008-05-30T20:49:00.003-04:00

How 'bout Love Friday?

We went to the beach on Monday and had a beautiful day.

This is what I see when I close my eyes and take deep breaths. I can feel the sun on my skin, the sand at my toes, and tension melts away.

RIP Air Conditioner 1991-2008

2008-05-29T11:29:00.003-04:00

You served us well, air conditioner. I knew when I walked in the house yesterday afternoon that it was serious. Last night was blessedly cool for Florida in May, and I hope that tonight we can look forward to more of the same.

We'll be replacing you with someone else tomorrow- someone new, more efficient, maybe even quieter. We won't forget the cool times we've had together, although I do think we'll enjoy your replacement even more.

Erik and I will be married 14 years tomorrow- isn't the traditional gift a new air conditioner?

Pitter Patter

2008-05-24T16:04:00.003-04:00

What's making my heart swoon right now?

This:

I have loved the Oxford English Dictionary since I first laid eyes upon it in college. I was recently telling someone about the OED, someone who'd never heard of it (gasp!) and I got giddy talking about the word origins, the long list of definitions, and the examples of each usage from literature.

Today's mail brought a bookseller's catalog, and on the first inside page this condensed version of the OED. Honestly, my heart skipped a beat. It is being offered at a great price, albeit a price generally outside of my book buying budget. My birthday is long past.

I don't really need this, but, oh, my heart.

Through Maya's Eyes

2008-05-13T09:47:00.002-04:00

We spent Mother's Day at Epcot. Maya carried my Rebel most of the day. She took a lot of flower shots (just like mom!), but these two are my favorite's. Erik and I don't often make it into a picture together. The closeup of my bag was her idea, and I just love it.

Accentuate the Positive

2008-05-08T13:46:00.002-04:00

This morning we were all a bit rough around the edges. Sam hasn't been to school since Friday; apparently he forgot the morning routine. Finally they were deposited at school- after having returned home for the forgotten guitar, and I was on my way to weight watchers.

As I settle in for the meeting and some much needed encouragement on the weight loss front, my phone rings. It is Erik, who simply said "I just had to check on our most important team member." Whoosh! All that morning roughness gone! Weight gain blues gone! I think this one call, these words, will be cherished even more than any gift the family might give me on Sunday.

Love Thursday

2008-05-08T09:00:00.001-04:00

I love this picture of Maya. She's always willing to mug for the camera, and I have to ask her to cut the canned poses and just be herself. Yep, she's being herself here--oh that attitude! That sass!

Order/Disorder

2008-05-08T00:24:00.002-04:00

I have a need for order. When it becomes obvious that the disorder around me is overwhelming, I retreat, bury my head in the sand.

The backyard is full of disorder. I stay inside, or in the front yard. Despite not enjoying gardening in Florida (nor anywhere, truthfully), I am so bothered by the chaos out there that even a short photography stroll in the backyard leaves me wanting to roll up in a ball, cursing our inability to create anything nice.

The bedroom (kitchen, living room, Maya's room) is a mess, I flee to the computer.

I'm not living up to my academic standards in freshman chemistry, circa 1988. I stop attending class.

***

Maya has called me on my escape mechanism a few times in the last few days. "Mom! This is more important!" Ouch. She's 6. Who's being the grown up? Yes, Maya. Yes, Sam. Yes, Erik. You are more important than the computer. I got an email the other day that asked--what is keeping you from the life you want? Ouch.

I need the connections I make online. I need the wisdom. Yet I need to be able to step away and take action here at home. Whether I like it or not, I'm going to have to be the captain of this ship if I ever hope to have even the smallest showing of order around here. Erik doesn't see the piles, the disorder, and chaos. When I'm overwhelmed, it feels like they're swallowing me whole.

I'm scared. What if I do spend less time online, and more time making order out of chaos, and I fail? What if I can't attain the perfection or level of order my brain keeps insisting it needs? What if I become the family leader I want to be, and no one follows?

***

I've been in the house for the past three days on sick child duty. I had to get out of the house this evening after dinner (oh the incessant talking! the talking all at once, at me, as if I'm the only one who can help them), so I grabbed my camera and walked around the house.

The whole backyard practically gives me hives (how the trees have grown since they were scaled back courtesy Hurricane Charley), and one corner in particular makes me so upset. That's when I started trying to imagine myself out there, doing the work, with work gloves, a hat, and a big pair of clippers. Nope. Not me, not gonna happen. So, then, self, why oh why do you care if it is overgrown? If you're not willing to do something about it?

Because, my mind whines, becauuuuse. Because it should be nice. It should be trim. And the floodgates open up: I should have a clean house. I should be studying for the GRE, I should be applying to graduate school. I should be a better mother, wife, and employee. I should try harder to make friends. I should meditate. I should exercise. I shouldn't overeat. Ad nauseaum, ad infinitum.

Then it is time for me to leave the backyard before some tree spirit snatches me away. I return to the civilized front yard, discovered by my children, outside to play in the last few moments before bed.

This too shall pass. I have taken some baby steps in the house to lessen the chaos enough for me not to feel that it is closing in on all sides. I'm taking a great Pema Chodron e-course. I'm learning from Karen Maezen Miller that the crooked path is ok (just before I finally bought her book I won an autographed copy from her!). And look, even tonight, wandering outside feeling hopeless, there was this:

These gulfs of incomprehension bring the opportunity for spiritual growth and self-acceptance. Momma Zen, p 8, Karen Maezen Miller

Love Thursday

2008-05-01T01:00:00.003-04:00

My sweeties were racing in the neighbor's driveway, and I was shooting away in the lovely light. When I got them on the computer I caught this little glimpse Maya was giving Sam. Yes, they fight, they're siblings. However their love for each other knows no bounds, and it has been a blessing to watch this love bloom.

Visit Shutter Sisters for more Love Thursday.

Ooops!

2008-04-29T23:07:00.005-04:00

This is how I drove out of the driveway yesterday. Fortunately I remembered before I turned the corner. I wasn't sure if I got the exposure right (eh), or if it were well framed (nope) but then got shy when my neighbor drove by. I grabbed my water and hopped into the car.

We had a big oops this weekend. On Friday we spent the afternoon at Florida's oldest theme park, Cypress Gardens, with Maya's friend, her mom, and her little sister. Right before we walked to the car Maya banged her head climbing onto an old firetruck and got a cut above her eyebrow. Omg the blood. My friend went to get help, I hugged Maya, while the other three kids kept saying that they were scared and shaking. I kept saying it's going to be ok. Finally I remembered I had a new pack of tissues in my bag and I was able to apply pressure and also to clean up Maya somewhat. My friend came back and said the park paramedic was coming. When she arrived, she cleaned it, put on a butterfly bandage, and then a regular one on top. She said that it didn't need stitches.

It is healing pretty well, although I'll probably torture myself a while longer, wondering if we should have gone to the ER. Her worries: is it a bruise? I don't want a bruise! Can you see my bones? Will I need to wear a band aid to school?

Love Thursday

2008-04-23T20:24:00.001-04:00

We've had a hectic few weeks since our return from spring break. Sickness, root canal, family birthday parties, Hebrew school. There's barely been time to take care of laundry, or piles of mail and the kids' artwork. All of this rushing about leaves me feeling like I'm spinning in circles.

Fortunately I have these delightful creatures to slow me down and enjoy the moments.

Yes, my child is swinging on a dead palm frond. Gotta love it.

This weekend is going to be all about getting off of this hamster wheel I've jumped on.

Labor Pains vs Toothache: No Contest

2008-04-22T14:03:00.003-04:00

When we went to Bratislava I had a cold. I thought that it might even be a sinus infection, because my teeth were sensitive and I had some discomfort in my cheek area. When we returned I was no longer using every tissue in sight, but still had sensitive teeth. After our first week at home I thought the sensitivity was almost gone.

On Friday night at 8 pm the real pain began. Even the internet couldn't distract me, and I went to lie down. On Monday I saw a doctor about my sinus problem. He prescribed by penicillin, 3 advil 3x's daily for the pain, and a nasal decongestant to make sure everything was clear up there. I was to return if I was still in pain at the end of the antibiotic. On Tuesday at work the pain increased. After emailing with my aunt I made an appointment with my dentist.

Oooh boy. I'm so glad I made that appointment for Wednesday, because the pain only continued to increase. I would rate my two unmedicated childbirth experiences as a pain level of 4; over the weekend I would have said I was at 8, and by Wednesday it was a 9. (my gallbladder attacks when my son was 4 weeks old were also an 8-9) The pain was really excruciating- it radiated from my cheek up towards my forehead and behind my eye, and down into my jaw. At this point the tooth was throbbing as well, and any thoughts that I had a sinus infection were vaporized.

A short xray and exam later and we had a diagnosis: root canal needed.He also gave me a prescription for vicodin, because the advil treatment was not even close to offering relief. My dentist referred me to an endodontist, who fortunately had an opening the following morning.

I am not sure that I've ever been so happy to be at a dentist's office- I knew that in a little bit the pain would be gone. While I'd avoided chewing on the left side of my mouth for almost three weeks, on the morning of the root canal I could hardly even chew on the right side without crying out in pain.

The novacaine brought sweet relief! Even when it wore off in the afternoon I was feeling great, and frankly just so, so relieved to not feel like my cheekbone was going to shatter into a zillion pieces anymore. I think the worst part of it was that, unlike contractions, there was no peak and then decrease in the discomfort. The pain was constant. You can't breath through this kind of pain, there's no muscle to practice relaxing and releasing. Another labor tool that was immensely helpful in labor provided no relief with my tooth- labor pain works towards a goal- your uterus contracts in order to help the baby get born. There is no point to a toothache, far as I can tell!

Our Temple's Orphan

2008-04-15T23:22:00.002-04:00

At the end of WWII, somewhere in Czechoslovakia, almost 1600 orphans were found in a synagogue. About twenty years later the orphans were taken to London, and eventually made their way to twenty countries around the world.

The orphans I speak of were Torah scrolls which the the Nazis gathered as they marched across Czechoslovakia. In 1964 the scrolls were transported to the Westminster Synagogue in London. The scrolls were examined individually, and repairs were made as necessary, in order to make them once again kosher for ritual use. Scrolls were sent out into the world to synagogues on permanent loan, usually to congregations who could not afford to have their own Torah written (a Torah scroll, written by a single scribe according to exacting rules, can cost many thousands of dollars).

My temple is privileged to have one of these orphaned Torahs. Bratislava is about three hours by car to the town that our Torah came from. We rented a car and took a day trip to Golcuv Jenicov to see the synagogue.

The outside of the building has been restored by the Prague Jewish Museum. The building is used as additional storage for the museum, and it is not open to the public.

There aren't any Jews left in Golcuv Jenikov, and there aren't many remaining in the Czech or Slovak Republics. Most of them went to their deaths in the camps, and others emigrated to Israel or other countries, especially after the Communists came to power.

Today the majority of these orphans have found new loving families. Some remain in London, unable to be repaired enough to be used. Every Torah is special, but I get a chill every time our Torah leaves the ark, imagining the people who worshiped with it back in Golcuv Jenikov.

Next up! MRI

2008-04-15T23:18:00.002-04:00

Good gravy. I called the gyn to find out what the radiologist's report said. He recommended an MRI, since I have an aunt who had breast cancer. So now there will be more waiting. Woohoo.

This is what I looked like after the ultrasound exam last Thursday.

I was trying to relax for the picture, but I just love that my jaw very clearly gives me away!

Letting it all sink in

2008-04-15T01:25:00.000-04:00

I knew I would appreciate and love being with my sister, nephew, and brother-in-law, seeing the beautiful sights, and having tasty food and coffee. Our trip had one important gift that didn't fully reveal itself until later.

When we got home (it seems like both yesterday and a zillion weeks ago), I realized that my children had never seen a really grand synagogue until they visited the one in Budapest. When I pointed out the ark to Maya, she said "that's the ark? Really?" Our temple building is only a few years old. The building is simple, and although it is lovely, there are no elaborate stained glass windows, no painted vaulted ceilings. When we went upstairs to visit the synagogue's museum, I was thrilled to see their collection of ritual objects- ornate Torah adornments, beautiful spice boxes (used in the havdalah service), seder plates, kiddush cups, and candle sticks.

I'm so glad they had the opportunity to see the richness of Jewish tradition. The Orthodox synagogue my grandfather attended was a grand, majestic place; it had never occurred to me that my children only knew of our modest synagogue, and that they had no idea that synagogues might look different than the one we attend.

I'm not sure that my children would list this as a gift of their trip, but it was for me. Extra special thanks to my sister for planning our trip to Budapest and making sure that we got to visit the synagogue :)

A Brain Journey

2008-04-10T21:30:00.003-04:00

I once heard the very wise and wonderful writer and lactation consultant Diane Weissinger say in a conference session that humans are the only mammal that wonders (and worries!) whether they have milk or not. Can you imagine a dog doing some of the things human mothers do to make sure they have milk? Of course not. It is wonderful to be human, but our brains sure do allow us to torture ourselves.

I thought of this today while my own brain got off the leash and went for a journey. You see, I had been recalled to the imaging center for some additional mammogram pictures. My doctor's office told me that due to my young(ish) age, my breasts were dense and they needed more pictures. However when I got to the appointment today they explained that there was a dense nodule showing up in one breast and that they needed more pictures of that.

Yikes! The technician took three additional images, and returned me to the waiting area. When she returned from sharing the images with the doctor she said that someone would come get me for a breast ultrasound. Eventually I had two different ultrasound technicians take pictures of an area in my left breast.

At one point I was lying on the exam table, waiting for the first technician to bring the other tech in; for some reason the first woman couldn't quite get what the doctor was looking for. My mind swung pretty wildly from calm to panic, wondering how I would possibly decide on the type of cancer treatment to have (alternative or traditional?), how it would feel to go through treatment, and whether or not I would die. There were times during each of the exams that I truly felt calm and certain that nothing was wrong. And of course times when I thought the worst.

When they got the pictures the doctor was looking for, they escorted me back to the dressing area and informed me that my gyn would contact me in 3-4 days. I started to ask a question and the tech told me she couldn't tell me anything, and that I couldn't speak to anyone about the results, that I'd need to wait to hear from my doctor. I got dressed and went to the bathroom before leaving. I realized that it was Thursday, which meant I could very likely be waiting and worrying all weekend about this. I poo-poohed myself and was going to leave.

But then I 'heard' my mother talking to me. I wish I could recall the exact message I got from her, but the gist of it was that I needed to insist on talking to the radiologist. And even though part of me didn't want to, because that type of thing makes me nervous, I went out to the reception desk and explained that it was not satisfactory for me to be there for about three hours and then be told to wait a few days to hear the report. I was calm and collected. My heart was not pounding. I just did what I needed to- I'm very proud of myself.

So they called and the radiologist did speak with me. He showed me my February mammogram, the additional pictures from today, and the ultrasound. It is very odd to see a picture of your own breast with a big, white spot in it. He feels that it is most likely a fibroadenoma due to the shape, the margins, and the fact that it hasn't changed in size or appearance since the February pictures. His recommendation would be a follow-up mammogram in six months, and another six months after that. He expects that it would show no growth and no change and that I wouldn't need to worry about it after that. If I didn't want to wait, a needle biopsy or other test could be done to confirm that it is benign.

I'm not sure what I will do, I'm waiting to hear from my gyn practice. I did feel so much better after talking to him. I feel ridiculously proud of myself for handling it as I did. I think it is huge for most folks to advocate for themselves, but knowing the anxiety piece of the puzzle that is my mind, well, I think it is just an enormous thing for me to have gone through without feeling any anxiety at all.

Old World Love

2008-04-08T21:04:00.002-04:00

Oh Old World, how I love your buildings.

Your cobblestone streets.

Your architectural details.

Your lions.

Your public sculpture.

and last, but not least, your love and devotion for the Classical.

Google Reader Disease

2008-04-07T20:14:00.003-04:00

It's in the DSM, isn't it? The drive to read every. last. post. in your reader, despite the fact that your eyelids are oh-so-heavy with jetlag? A sickness I tell you, a sickness.

More later. Or sooner, if the lure of the interwebz is stronger than the droop of the eyelids.

Slow Saturday

2008-03-22T23:28:00.001-04:00

This

plus this

equals this

My piece of the sky

2008-03-21T23:13:00.002-04:00

My husband brought one of our lounge chairs from the backyard to the front yard. I've taken to finding a few minutes each day to sit on the chair under the camphor tree and gaze up at the sky.

It's been so delightful, to sit there and watch the leaves dance above my head. The orange blossoms perfume the air, and for a few minutes, it's just me and the earth.

We love stories

2008-03-21T22:10:00.002-04:00

I went to Sam's class in December to read a few Chanukah books. After I read to the kids, I gave out some chocolate gelt and some dreidels. I got a little excited talking to this group of kids; third grade really seems like an age when you can start engaging them in some higher order thinking. For most of these kids, Sam is the first Jewish person they've ever met. They've maybe, vaguely heard of Chanukah, and the idea that some people in the world don't celebrate Christmas is fairly foreign to them.

So after I read the books I shared a little bit about how old Judaism is. How Judaism has been around since before the Greek and Roman empires. Sam wrote the Hebrew characters from the dreidel on the board, so they'd know how to play. And then my mouth was going faster than my brain. I rhapsodized that human beings have always wanted to share stories. Before the first alphabet, we told stories orally, or drew our stories on cave walls. My Classics major self wanted in on the action, and I drew some ancient Greek letters on the board, getting them to guess which letters in our alphabet they matched. Sam and I told them what the first few letters of the Hebrew alphabet are, and hey, check that out, they sound just like the first two letters of ours (not to mention that Greek alphabet I'd just shown them). I was fairly exhilarated at this point, none of this was in my plan for the afternoon. I gushed a wee bit longer, about how I hoped that each of them would one day stumble upon the subject matter that just absolutely light their souls on fire.

To be human is to have a story, and to want to share that story with others. The stories we tell now are in homage to the original story tellers. I get giddy when I think of how we are linked to the people of long ago.

Because I believe that sharing stories is an essential part of being a homo sapiens, I'm always surprised to read articles in which the author claims not to understand blogging. Blogging gives people the chance to share their story. Stories are how we connect, and it is no surprise to me, that in an era where so many of us live far from our families or our childhood hometowns, that we would use new technology to help us tell our stories, and connect with others.

****

These posts, (Jen Lemen, Bipolarlawyercook, and another one from Bipolarlawyercook)
by two of my favorite blogging ladies, have been in the back of my mind for ages now, and I think, in some small way I've touched on the pieces of these posts that I really connected with.

A new perspective on anxiety

2008-03-20T20:50:00.004-04:00

I bought a whole bunch of books of affirmations from Half.com a few weeks ago for seventy-five cents apiece. I know, I know what you're thinking. I've probably made similar comments myself. Recently I've been listening to a cd of parenting affirmations, and I have to say, I've found it very helpful. I need all the help I can get in changing the negative automatic thoughts in my head- like a weed whacker for my mental roads overgrown with weeds. So after perusing a book by Sue Patton Thoele at the library, I click-click-clicked and hit complete purchase.

One of the books I picked up is "Heart Thoughts" by Louise Hay. I keep re-reading the page about fear. She says

Remember, when a fearful thought comes up, it is trying to protect you. Isn't that what fear is all about? When you become frightened, your adrenaline pumps up to protect you from danger. Say to the fear: "I appreciate that you want to help me."

Whoa! I love this idea- adrenaline is something physical that is released in order to help protect us. But sometimes- maybe often if you have an anxiety disorder- the warning is a little over-dramatic.

***

As I look at the pile of books next to my bed, I fear that I'm amassing quite the self-help library. Somewhere in the blogosphere I read a critique of sorts of self-help books. The author wondered why people would all want to be the same. I don't want to be the same as everyone else, I don't think that would be possible even if I were working toward that! I want to be me- I want to be the me I am on good days. I'd like to string the good days together, into good weeks and good months. Yes, I know that there is suffering, that life is hard (and hey, some of these books are Buddhist books, and they are so helpful), but I also know that I shouldn't have to struggle on a daily basis.

Mommy Mantras was another Half.com purchase, and I've looked at it weekly since I bought it a few months ago. My favorite one is "I can stand this." How many times have I said to myself "I can't stand this anymore!" when I've been in an uncomfortable parenting moment? It is so wonderful to stop myself and say, yes, you can stand this. you are doing it now.

The Proof is in the Pudding Cooking

2008-03-16T08:23:00.003-04:00

As I mentioned on my photo blog, what a week it's been. Last weekend I was away on a business meeting. I returned late on Sunday evening, too late to read to the children before bed. Monday was generally like any other day after a trip, me scrambling to catch up on laundry, work, and to get things in order for the week ahead.

I checked our voice mail, and heard my mother-in-law saying that my father-in-law had had a stroke on Monday morning. I tried to reach my husband, but he wasn't in his office and he'd forgotten his cell phone at home. He eventually called, as he was going to stop at the grocery store on the way home. I told him to skip the store and come home, that his mother called, and his father was in the hospital. Obviously there would be no 'getting back to normal' this week.

I'm done transitioning off of paxil and onto zoloft. I am really, really grateful that I was done switching before now. It has been so much easier to handle. Of course in any family emergency I would do what needed to be done. But it would have been immeasurably harder on me to have my husband gone for most of the week. It is hard to describe how I can tell that the new medication is helping. For one, even in genuinely stressful situations, I'm not having the physical symptoms that I was having in the last few months even at the highest strength of paxil. No more heart pounding like a herd of horses. No more trouble feeling like I'm getting enough air, no more weird tingly sensation in my arms. But it's more than that. When the kids do or say something that is upsetting to me, I don't immediately flip out and start thinking "omgomg the sky is falling." I can think internally, "hmm, that is really annoying. I don't like it. But, it isn't the end of the world." and react accordingly. And more than that, I'm not reacting, I'm responding.

The other thing I noticed is that in the last year, give or take a few months, there have been recipes that I've thought, gee, I'd like to make that, but then not done a thing to accomplish that. I have made more new recipes in the last three weeks than I probably made all of last year. There's a lot of elements to this seemingly small thing. I'm committed to Weight Watchers. I know that I need to plan ahead in order to succeed. I need to plan ahead even more when my husband is away. We've also been trying to plan meals in order to shop more effectively and less expensively. Where the medicine comes in is my ability to actually follow through on these things. Yeah, I'm crossing my fingers that the medicine will continue to be this effective for a long, long time. I try to drown out the fact that I posted about recovering in October, only to end up feeling just as poorly as I did before that recovery, if not worse. I do think I understand myself and my disorder even more than I did in October, so I'll be keeping a close eye on how things are going, and hopefully won't let things get to the point they were last summer.

So for now, the proof is in the cooking.

Love Thursday

2008-03-06T23:39:00.003-05:00

Lots of love this week, lots of love.

My boy

I love this whole drawing, but especially the way he portrayed the crowd in the stands.

Maya's really getting into drawing too.

happy animals

possessed animals?

Dear Internet

2008-03-05T09:26:00.003-05:00

I send you messages in my head every day. Have you gotten them?

No? Drats.

Well, I will have to keep working on that brain to blog link up.

In the meantime, I'm holding steady. Or, sort of steady. I see the other side, I am almost there. Trying hard. Opening my heart to love, learning to let love lead the way. Fear has led for far too long. Trying to think less, talk less. Trying to just Be.

I kinda lost touch with hope for a few weeks. It's coming back I think. I'm witnessing, from afar: a mother's hope after the birth of her first sweet baby, who had two surgeries in her first week of life; a friend's hope, picking up the pieces after a beloved's suicide; another mother's hope as her baby undergoes care for a serious heart defect; and my sister's hope and strength as she navigates new terrain in her motherhood journey.

The incredible surviving thumb drive

2008-02-28T14:22:00.002-05:00

My sister did some laundry the other day before she left our home. I opened the dryer this morning and was surprised to find her thumb drive in there. Lo and behold, one wash and dry did not wreck it! So at least some things manufactured today are not all about planned obsolescence ; )

PS, I'm starting to feel much better than I did a few days ago; hopefully my body catches up with my brain I will be a posting fool.

Love Thursday

2008-02-28T13:46:00.002-05:00

My sister and her son visited this week. The kids are totally in love with him, and he is equally smitten with them. Two of his favorite words are Maya and Sam.

Everyone had a great time at the playground on Tuesday afternoon. Lots more photos of teh cuteness here.

We're so looking forward to visiting them in one month!

More Love Thursday at Shutter Sisters

emotional vacuum cleaner

2008-02-21T00:18:00.001-05:00

I'm in the midst of switching medications. My psychiatrist finally agreed that my medication wasn't doing enough for me. The first two weeks have gone really well. I was surprised- I thought getting off of the paxil would be horrendous. I've really only had one headache. And while I'm still ramping up to the full dose of zoloft, I've noticed that things that would ordinarily bring on the stampede of horses in my chest haven't.

I don't feel in the clear yet, though. I'm not completely sure why, but I've had some major free-floating anxiety the past two days. My heart isn't racing, but I feel like a very large person is sitting on my lungs when I try to breathe deeply and relax. I feel awash in adrenaline.

One part of it is my tendency to absorb the emotions of those around me. My husband is cranky with work, and as the frustration spills out of him I feel like I'm sticking my finger into the electrical current of his words.

I read this a few weeks ago, and I just love how Uncle Douglas turns Vicky's empathic nature into something positive and valued:

Because you have an artistic temperament, Vicky, and I've never seen you be
objective about anything yet. When you think about Aunt Elena and how she must
be feeling right now, you become for the moment as though you were Aunt
Elena; you get right inside her suffering, and it becomes your suffering too.
That's empathy, and it's something all artists are afflicted with.

Uncle Douglas to Vicky in Madeline L'Engle's Meet the Austins

Not so sure that sponsors/advertisers influence kids?

2008-02-20T23:53:00.003-05:00

Two posts on Blogher reminded me to share this:

Maya came home with a sample of kids' toothpaste and a new toothbrush. She informed me that it was the best kind, and the kind we use is no good. She may have added that we should throw away ours and buy a tube of the sample. I said "Really? Did Mrs. D say that this was the best kind?"

She thought a second and said no, she didn't tell them that. I explained that all toothpastes work pretty much the same, and that I feel good about the kind I buy for the kids.

It's great that they are reinforcing dental hygiene at school. I'm just not comfortable with my kid getting a sample of something and internalizing it to mean "this must be the best, because why would my teacher give it to me otherwise."

Our school has a lot of freebies for the kids- the Pizza Hut Book It program gives kids a free personal pizza when they read at home all month, good grades get them a free "all American" meal at Mc Donald's with their report card envelope, and you can even buy Orlando Magic tickets at a discount when you are on the honor roll. This stuff has always made me vaguely uncomfortable. Partly because my parents believed that learning was its own reward- no money for grades at our house. ha! But more deeply because of what Maya made so clear to me this week with her free toothbrush.

Mo Knows Pigeon!

2008-02-10T22:27:00.001-05:00

If you are a kid, have a kid, know a kid, or ever were a kid, you should know Mo Willems. Mo is the author of some of our favorite books: Knuffle Bunny, Leonardo the Terrible Monster, and our hands down favorite, the Pigeon Books. We fell in love with the Pigeon in Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, and we squeal whenever a new Pigeon book comes out (I may bust by the time he reveals the title of the one due out in April). My personal favorite is Don't Let the Pigeon Stay up Late.

Now, the only person who could possibly compete for our love of Mo and the Pigeon is our local children's librarian. Her name is Carrie, and we adore her. Carrie had a baby this year. Since Carrie loves Mo and the Pigeon as much as we do, we thought the perfect baby gift would include the Pigeon. Mo has an awesome tutorial for drawing the Pigeon, so Sam set about making a suitable drawing. I turned the drawing into an iron on for a onesie, and voila! Perfect Pigeon loving baby gift!

I made this one for the baby as well

Carrie loved them, especially the Pigeon one, and even sent us a photo of Isabel modeling it. I'm sure she's a big fan of the Pigeon already.

Preparations

2008-02-08T09:50:00.000-05:00

Best Cake Ever. Really. Aunt Rose's Pound Cake

mmm butter and cream cheese

is this not the most beautiful cake batter you've ever seen? You add the dry ingredients to the butter and cream cheese mixture, and then the eggs. As you add the eggs it turns into this beautiful, silky, yellow batter.

cooling in the pan

ready for the oneg after services on Friday night

I should have snapped some pictures of the challah, but by the time I finished braiding the loaves I really needed to go outside and sit under the stars. I'll take a snap later.

The Indignities of Motherhood

2008-02-04T15:21:00.000-05:00

I'm going to see this 3D movie, before seeing this one. Tis sad indeed. However my girlie is very excited about it, and so are her friends. I'm sure the looks on their faces this afternoon will make it worthwhile.

And if that isn't enough to sustain me, I'll just have to close my eyes and recall yesterday's great game.

Refrigerator Repair

2008-02-01T14:07:00.000-05:00

My fridge has been pooling water at the bottom for a while now, and I finally got to call for repair. The repairman is here now. He had to take quite a few things out of the fridge in order to get to the problem. It's just food and drink--why do I feel more exposed than at my annual gyn visit? Wow, did not expect this to feel so intimate and uncomfortable!

Love Thursday

2008-02-01T00:19:00.000-05:00

Sharing a moment at the piano with Uncle

See more great Love Thursday images at ShutterSisters

Proof of impending apocolypse

2008-01-26T14:36:00.000-05:00

New York Times article:
BUSINESS / MEDIA & ADVERTISING | January 24, 2008
Growing Online, BBC Is to Join With MySpace
By BRIAN STELTER
The commercial arm of the British Broadcasting Corporation on Thursday is expected to announce that it will make some of its content available on MySpace.

Love Thursday

2008-01-24T23:47:00.000-05:00

Jen Lemen posted about a new photo blog/website starting up. Some wonderful photographers are involved, and I was eager to check it out (besides the fact that I just might do anything that Jen Lemen recommends. I *heart* her). Today is Love Thursday on Shutter Sisters.

I took this picture of my nephew over the winter break. We were all down at grandma and grandpa's on the beach. He'd left this cape at their house over Columbus Day weekend, and was so thrilled to be reunited with it. He's an amazing little guy. He knew no English in March, when he was adopted by my sil and bil--you should hear him now. He's full of joy, and it has been a joy and a blessing to watch him grow and learn this year.

Some other things I loved today

seeing a Bald Eagle soaring overhead on my lakeside walk this morning
walking this morning :)
watching Cattle Egrets and Tree Swallow on a bug-eating feeding frenzy on the lake shore
my son hollering- come here mom, I need you- so that I'd hear a Maroon 5 song on the radio in his room

Thanks for your good thoughts in response to yesterday's post. I had a decent night's sleep, exercised, and have eaten well today. And now I see it is already midnight, so off to bed I go. If you are on the west coast or suffering from insomnia, do go check out the beautiful photos and posts on Shutter Sisters. You won't regret it.

Wild Ride

2008-01-23T23:01:00.000-05:00

I'm exhausted. Yesterday we had a scout and his mom stop by our house sort of unexpectedly. Erik worked with Sam and two other scouts on their pinewood derby cars over the weekend. He mentioned perhaps swinging by during the week to sand and then spray paint them. Erik wasn't home yet when they knocked on the door. I wanted to run and hide. My sink was full of dishes and stinky food leftovers at the bottom, Maya was prancing around in a bikini and play high heels (she does not get this fashion sense from me!), we hadn't had dinner yet, and and and.

I called Erik; it turns out he was only a few minutes away, so I told them to stay. I started making a quick freezer meal while the kids played. I tried (and apparently succeeded) not to die of embarrassment as I unloaded the clean dishes and put the dirty ones in the dishwasher. I was overstimulated before they showed up, and could feel my nerves fraying as the minutes went by. I guess it didn't take that long, but finally Erik was home, and they headed out to the porch to work on the cars.

I was really working hard to keep it together, smiling at the mom, preparing dinner with the ease of the Beav's mom. Inside the tension in my cheekbones could have cut through concrete. As soon as they were gone I popped a xanax and informed Erik that the kids needed bathing and that I could not help with that or getting them to bed. I was very uncomfortable inside while our unexpected visitors were in the house; nevertheless, I was proud of pushing through the discomfort and not locking myself in the bathroom. Of course, saying, gosh, this is not a good time might have been a better idea. Oh well. I was already tired from several hours volunteering at the school. It was fun, but my tank was already pretty low.

I've not been treating myself very well the past few days. Well, weeks as far as eating goes. I feel bloated and icky from eating poorly. I've been going to bed far, far too late (even by my standards). And there's been no no no exercising. No wonder my body feels a tense mess. I only shot a few frames today; I haven't looked but I fear the pictures are utter crap. Ok, maybe all the photos are crap, but I have gotten a lot of joy out of them and out of the taking. Last but not least, my uncle has been hospitalized for mental problems for about the fourth time in two years, and I'm so sad. I want to write more about that; however I will show some restraint and go to bed NOW.

What is Amazon trying to tell me?

2008-01-22T19:16:00.000-05:00

All Business Center

Let them choose from millions of items
› Amazon.com Gift Cards

Your Amazon.com

Today's Deals

See All Departments

Dear Amazon.com Customer,

As someone who has shopped for business and office products at Amazon.com, you might like to take a look at special offers in our All Business Center.

With April 15 looming, manage your money with TurboTax Business 2007, or save even more and get the download version right away. Manage everything when you're on the road with a BlackBerry cell phone. Or manage your mood by getting a terrific price on a light-therapy lamp for your desk.

The All Business Center has everything you need to start, manage, and grow your business--all in one place. Find great products from industry leaders such as Microsoft, Intuit, and Logitech, or share your entrepreneurial insight in a customer discussion. We're open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

›

Shop the All Business Center

I just love the title of this email: Manage Your Money, Mobility, and Mood at the All Business Center.

'No' is always a loss

2008-01-21T16:24:00.000-05:00

I listened to a tele-seminar with Pam Leo today. She made such a simple, yet deeply profound, statement: 'No' is always a loss.

It nearly gave me shivers as I sat absorbing the sentiment. I've always been afraid of asking for things, afraid of that no. It prevented me not just from asking my parents for something ($3 for the Barbie townhouse at a school rummage sale or to go halvsies on a trip to Europe in high school- which my sister asked for and got! *) but also from asking a salesperson if they have an item in my size, where the bathrooms are, or asking the librarian where to find a certain book. Thankfully I've pushed past a lot of this, and forced myself to ask for books or where the bathroom is. But I'm still so afraid of 'no' that there are times I give in to the resistance that wells up in me, and walk away without that new pair of shorts.

Pam Leo's philosophy is that we (in the US anyhow) spend so much time telling children that their feelings are wrong. Acknowledging feelings doesn't mean that we need to give in to a child's every whim. Acknowledging feelings means that we can empathize with them over their grief at hearing 'No.' I know how much my parents love me, and I think I came from a very loving family. Yet, we did have some trouble with emotions. And I don't think mine were recognized, not even when it should have been apparent to my parents that something was wrong/not right (hello anxiety!). I know I was often told "Oh, stop it, it's not that bad" and other similar things. My feelings weren't heard. My little griefs weren't acknowledged. I am finding myself getting twisted up in my words-I'm not trying to lay blame at my parent's feet. I'm not trying to say "Oh, poor me." I'm not sure if I can reclaim that moment of clarity I felt when I heard her say "'No' is always a loss."

*I hold no resentment against my sister for asking to go to Italy with Mrs.Percoco. Heck, she asked, and she received. I never even mentioned it at home, I mean, the answer was going to be no, right? I remember so clearly, that day in the car with my mom, when she asked me why I never asked to go on a trip with Mrs.P and Latin class. I sucked my breath in, tried not to cry. I couldn't believe it would have been possible.

A Sporting Tradition

2008-01-13T23:13:00.000-05:00

When I close my eyes I can still see the yellow wallpaper in the kitchen of our Brooklyn apartment. The brown velour cover and bolsters on the daybed (although in those days I think we called it the high riser), and oh, what's this? Dad's watching tv, yelling, jumping up and down. I think I was in second grade, and I wanted to know what exactly my dad was so worked up about. It was football. He grabbed some paper, and explained that each team had four tries to go ten yards. There were x's and o's, but mostly there was being with dad and getting in on the excitement.

I love watching sports. Nearly any sport- pretty much everything except boxing. Living in Florida makes it hard to watch my favorite NY teams on tv (Mets, Giants, Islanders, Knicks) unless they are playing a Florida team or are on the game of the week. Having kids has also really reduced my game viewing time! Sometimes they'll watch a little with me, but mostly they want me to get up and c'mon! Come play! Help me! Feed me! And all that pesky laundry and other stuff. So I don't watch as often or as much as I'd like to.

But today, today, the Giants were playing in the playoffs. Just as last week, I was going to see this game dammit! We had Hebrew school this morning, then a birthday party to attend. Maya and I returned home just after the game began. I had a terrible headache, so half watched, half rested in my bed. We finished dinner just as the game was getting tense- Dallas had gone ahead by a field goal. The Giants came back with a touchdown, and suddenly there were only four minutes left in the game. There were some close calls, but the defense shut the Cowboys down on a drive. The Giants got the ball back, had a pathetically short series (dudes, you were supposed to be keeping the ball, running the clock down!). 31 seconds left. My stomach in knots. The kids come join us to watch the end. Damn, a big gain for Dallas. A penalty for them on the next first down. Yeah! And then, their qb launches the ball, it soars towards the end zone. Oh please oh please, don't let him catch it. No touchdown, no touchdown. YES!!! A Giant defender catches the ball in the endzone. interception! Six seconds left. Game over. Giants win! Oh my gosh- kids laughing- Mom has been jumping up and down since Big Blue's interception, shouting yes, yes, yes!

As you might have guessed, reading all of my never ending analysis of myself, I am not the most light-hearted or spontaneous person around. And yet, sports can bring me there. My kids didn't want me to stop jumping. I should have told them to cross their fingers that the Giants keep winning. That will keep me jumping.

2008-01-10T23:18:00.000-05:00

Despite the sensitive gal sensory overload event below, today wasn't so bad. Really.

See? A smile.

I've been trying to practice resilience this week. Monday was great, awesome. Wonderful therapy session, blue skies, a walk around the lake with the breeze keeping me cool. The ability to look at small things and appreciate them. I had decided to focus on my husband, to notice him, to be his friend, and not just co-parents of the same children. And somehow this was misinterpreted. It is hard to change patterns. Either the new efforts aren't noticed, or misunderstood. Add to that some work stress for him, and some hurtful things were said. Honest to goodness sobbing followed, on my part anyway. I just couldn't understand how my good intentions could have been twisted into something so hurtful. Here I was, working so hard to make things different. And boom. Explosions.

Emotions have always lingered for me. Wait, scratch that--negative emotions have always lingered. How many hours did I spend in my room as a kid/preteen/teen feeling that burn? Stoking the fire of sadness, anger. I find it difficult to accept an apology and move on. Things just hurt too much, and I need time to recover. And so it went on Monday night. I was pissed that my great mood was so fleeting, and wondered how long it would be till I could recapture it. I wondered how long the feeling of wishing I weren't alive would last (note: to me this feeling is very different than feeling like I'm going to actually run out and commit suicide. It is simply feeling so blue, so awful, so misunderstood that I wish I didn't exist). And then I tried something different. I am not sure if this idea was born from my head fully grown like Athena, but somehow I told myself that I could feel crappy all night Monday, but that on Tuesday I had to keep doing what I'd done Monday morning to feel so good. To continue trying to change my patterns of communication with my husband, even if he didn't understand the new pattern at first.

Like I mentioned yesterday I wonder about this. Did I not learn to handle my emotions well as a child? Is it a product of being anxious for as long as I can remember--did stewing feel better than worrying about everything, wondering if I was good enough, doing enough, doing things correctly and perfectly? Is falling down the rabbit hole of depression and gloom a product of having a mental disorder, or is it a habit I fell into somehow? What do "regular" people go through when they have a bad day? Do they just naturally bounce back, or do those days have the potential to multiply like dirty dishes piling up next to the sink?

I definitely believe that I need my medication. There is a place for new skills and coping mechanisms too. I know that I've been working so hard on myself for so long. When did life get so much harder for me? Was it having kids that made everything so much more complicated? Marriage?

Huh. I guess part of me wonders if I'm faking it. Have I just latched on to the word disorder as declared by my psychiatrist and therapist? Rationally I don't believe that, but the thoughts are down in there somewhere I suppose. I know my husband has a hard time with it. A broken arm, or diabetes, or a cold-those are things he can wrap his mind around. Generalized Anxiety Disorder? Not so much. Yet those three words have helped me understand my life so much better, and I really have been better able to translate myself and my behaviors for my husband.

So I think I'll go to bed with hope filling up my heart. I did turn the week around from the direction it was headed on Monday night. Whether it was my medication, an amazing meditation yesterday morning, self-talk and determination, or this nifty gadget for my Google home page giving me a smile every time I see it doesn't really matter. I just need to keep on practicing.

Dear G_d

2008-01-10T17:58:00.000-05:00

When you were handing out anxiety disorders mightn't it have been prudent not to also give the same person some really high intensity, and um, LOUD children? Cause, really, I like to eat dinner with my children, but today? My body was hurting so much from the loud noises that I had to lie down while they ate and then ate my own dinner alone.

A wee bit of crafting

2008-01-09T22:57:00.000-05:00

I bought this book a while ago. After being delighted by it for many months, I finally sat down and started embroidering on a few onsies I picked up on clearance. There are so many cute ideas for using felt and thread, it is so much fun to look through the book.

I also made a sweet little bunny onsie, but she's wrapped up for a special little girl already.

I made a sweet apron for my sil's birthday from Lotta Jansdotter's Simple Sewing. Alas, no photos of that either. The fabric was a really awesome Swedish kitchen print from Superbuzzy. My sister sent me her Rowenta iron since she wouldn't be able to use it in Slovakia; lemme tell ya, grandma is right. A good iron makes all the difference in sewing. It was a pleasure to sew the apron because of the crisp ironing. My iron stinks! I might try to give that one to my sister when they come back to the states! j/k!

I've started sketching in my pad again, and have some ideas for a few little projects. It's nice to have short bits of time, as well as the mental space, in which to create again.

****

I've been thinking about resilience the past few days. I'm trying to get my thoughts together enough to post something. I'm trying to figure out what is disorder, what is pattern/habit/skill, what's the so-called norm for bouncing back.

steps

2008-01-08T09:54:00.000-05:00

One of the things I'm ~~trying to do~~ doing in order to reinforce hope and hopefulness is to make changes in my environment. This December I was lucky enough to check out Lauren Alane's etsy store when she had some felted ornaments for sale. I snagged one for myself; I adore her birdies.

Yesterday I hung it from the car rear-view mirror.

Wowie Wow Wow!

2008-01-08T09:28:00.000-05:00

We might be visiting my sister, nephew, and brother-in-law in Bratislava for spring break! I'm so excited- we have got to work this out!

Fortunately I'm feeling less worried about one of the most confusing parts, getting the kids passports. We can actually take them to apply in the two towns closest to us; I thought we might have to coordinate going to a bigger city (both parents need to be present, yada yada etc.). Woohoo!

From what my sister has shared, it is truly a beautiful city.

2008

2008-01-05T23:32:00.000-05:00

There's so much I want to say right now. I wish I had hours to sit here and write all of the posts that currently reside in my head.

For now I'll just say, this is the year of Hope. I was inpsired by Ali Edwards to choose one little word for my year. Christine Kane also influenced my thoughts as the end of 2007 came. I want to be and do, I don't want to 'should' on myself. Every day is a new day. My hopes and dreams are Within Reach.

I am hopeful that I will learn more about living with anxiety.
I am hopeful that baby steps will help us to declutter our home.
I am hopeful that I can enjoy each new day, even the rough ones.
I am hopeful that I can be joyful.

I decided on hope a day or so before NYE. I found the idea of practicing being hopeful so useful and helpful in actual practice- I have been catching myself going into the negative self-talk that normally spirals into anxiety and depression, and reframing the situation through the lens of Hope. It's only January 5, but I've experienced more joy so far, been more able to appreciate the small moments that make up a life. I've taken risks that have paid off, and leave me eager to jump again.

It's pretty much January 6th now; I need to get to bed. I'll just share one more thing: a new blog.

Duh!

2008-01-04T13:24:00.000-05:00

I have just figured out that the way to keep our house clean is to continually invite people over. All this time I've had a cluttered, messy house, and I've been avoiding ever having anyone over.
Yes, yes, I know that FlyLady figured this out a long time ago, and yes, we've lived in CHAOS. Thanks to Maya's birthday party on the 2nd and inviting some neighbors for dinner tonight our house is in pretty good shape. I'm this close to inviting some friends over on Sunday to watch the Giants game.

Teh Cranky

2007-12-28T16:29:00.000-05:00

Dang, it's been a while. I have much to say, but still need time to percolate. Henceforth I share much crankiness. I am at work today, and many of these are work related.

can we make it a rule that if you spell the name of the product incorrectly in your Paypal order that we don't have to ship it to you?
is it really necessary to call back after you've placed the order with me to confirm the price, which you've just admitted you confirmed on our website? I mean, really?
is there a reason why SUV and pickup drivers slow to near tortoise-ean speeds when approaching a speed bump or railroad crossing?
will my father one day learn that it is important to share details with his employees so that they don't sound like bumbling idiots on the phone when people have questions?
will I stop being a procrastinator and become a do-er?

Sigh, quittin' time.

Now I Know I can do anything

2007-12-18T08:22:00.000-05:00

For the first time ever, I successfully made a batch of my grandmother's English Toffee recipe.

I'll be back later with a post which will include the word lice and fun in the same sentence! Doesn't that pique your interest?

Seeing the Details and the Big Picture

2007-12-12T09:24:00.000-05:00

Melba posted about creative dreams and realizing that she is a big picture person a little while back. I chuckled when I read this because I'd just recently been noticing that I love details.

When I collect shells, I go for the teeny tiny ones. I love taking pictures of lichen and fungus. I've always loved the parts of Harriet the Spy where Harriet and Sport played town amongst the roots of the big tree outside of her house. I do a great job thinking of themes for my kids' birthday parties- food, games, treat bags. I'm not so great at actually carrying out the party; luckily Erik is good at that part.

It strikes me that being a detail person is what gets me so hung up sometimes. I forget to pull back and look at the whole picture.

Lost in the Mazes of my Mind

2007-12-10T12:23:00.000-05:00

There have been lots of words flying around inside my head this past week; I thought of starting a post often. But the thoughts and feelings felt too ugly, confusing, overwhelming. Why the ups and downs? Can't I have a happy period that lasts more than a month? Why do bad days stick to me-why can't I toss them off and move on? Why am I so stupid, lame, lazy, a bad mother, bad wife, bad housekeeper? And on, and on.

BipolarLawyerCook's post on Real Mental this morning really rings a bell for me. She wonders why she waits until she's running on empty before taking time for the things that she knows help bring emotional well-being and mental balance. Just yesterday I realized that I am sort of like an addict, who thinks she can have one drink, one hit- I think I can stay up late just one night. Then it is a whole week of late nights. Then no exercise, no calm mornings, no weight watchers and by the end of the week, you have one girl in a serious mess which takes all weekend to recover from.

It didn't help that this weekend was super busy. Chanukah service on Friday night in which the kids were singing, lighting candles, etc. Home at 10:30 pm. At school on Saturday am at 7:45 for Kindergarten holiday concert. Breakfast with Santa right after. Third grade concert at 9:30 (all of this was at school). Come home, collapse, don't sleep or accomplish a thing. Maya to birthday party. Sam and friend at house playing legos. Chanukah party at temple at 5 pm. I was beside myself in the car, and knew enough to take a xanax on the way there. I forgot everything: menorah for group lighting, side dish, canned goods and toy for donation. I did bring gifts for the religious school teachers, but had to stop at CVS on the way for tape; I did bring the scissors and wrapping paper. When we got there I felt utterly anti-social. Erik was upset about the things I didn't take care of all afternoon (he was at the party with Maya). Eventually I started feeling better and had a nice time with my friends and my family. Sunday morning we were out of the house again for religious school. In the afternoon I started the gobs and gobs of laundry piled everywhere.

So today I decided to stay home, and not judge myself for needing a day to right myself. I exercised, I'm doing more laundry. I'm sort of stalled now, I've been writing this post for a few hours. In my vision of today I'm flitting about the house, cleaning, decluttering, and making our house into the home I yearn for. I don't think I've gone into loads of details here about this, but a tremendous trigger for me is the clutter in my home. My husband is a pack-rat. Sometimes I truly feel on the edge looking around at all of the piles. It is like a tidal wave, knocking me over, too big to fight against. We've recently had some really good conversations about this (does me crying hysterically and him listening count as a conversation?)--he apologized for the last ten years (I've been asking him to declutter for that long) and for not truly understanding how his reluctance to throw stuff away affects my mental health.

The going is slow, of course. And nothing much can get done when you're scheduled to the hilt. Even with available time, it is hard to make a big difference. I feel like I don't have the perseverance and discipline needed for this. I get down about it so easily- I mean, we've been 'trying' the same thing for years and years. Duh. Of course it isn't going to get better.

Sigh. I have no idea where I'm going with this. Like I said, the thoughts are all jumbled up in here. Bless you if you've read this far.

In an hour I'm due at Sam's classroom to read a story and teach them about Chanukah. I'm still wearing my exercise clothing. The dishwasher is full of clean dishes. The laundry baskets are full of clean, unfolded clothing. And I'm still wandering the mazes in my mind, and wishing I had Ariadne to toss me a ball of string.

Best Gift I purchased for Myself this Chanukah

2007-12-09T23:28:00.000-05:00

The Latke Who Couldn't Stop Screaming: A Christmas Story by Lemony Snickett

It's just perfect. I can't explain it without reading it to you, and that's kind of impossible. If you see it in a bookstore, stop and read. It's only about 35 pages. It is just brilliant.

Breaking the news to Grandma and Grandpa

2007-12-04T13:46:00.000-05:00

Conversation between Maya and my in-laws (who are not Jewish) at Busch Gardens this weekend:

Maya: Grandpa, do you believe in Santa?

Grandpa: Oh yes!

Maya: Well, I don't. I mean, how could he be real, of course he's pretend.

Grandpa: silence

Repeat with Grandma inserted for Grandpa, and you have that convo as well.

I didn't catch their faces after this discussion, but I do wonder what they thought of it. They have three children, each with children of their own. My kids are the only ones being raised with a faith tradition. As church goers themselves, I think they are happy that my children have a religion and that which religion they have is not an issue. It was just hilarious that they answered Yes! so heartily when she asked them as they surely assumed she also believed in Santa.

I did tell my son that Santa was pretend around the same age, but hadn't gotten around to telling Maya yet. She came to this conclusion on her own. I do propagate the idea of the Tooth Fairy, I'm not opposed to imaginary folks at all. I just know how much SANTA is out there, including in books read daily at Kindergarten, that I just wanted them to know that Santa is a part of someone else's tradition.

For the curious, we take part in Christmas stuff at my in-law's home, and do hang a few ornaments around our own house. When Erik and I were first living together/married we did have a little tree. I love to bake, and there have been many years that I've made a buche de noel for dessert at my il's home. I love all of the craftinesss and foods of Christmas, and I (we) enjoy taking part with Erik's family.

World AIDS DAY

2007-12-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

WABA World AIDS Day Statement
Press Release
1 December 2007
KEEP THE PROMISE TO HIV-POSITIVE MOTHERS AND THEIR BABIES
A decade of uncertainty has fuelled an agonizing dilemma about the least risky way to feed HIV-exposed babies. Research presented in 2007 finally points conclusively to the need for renewed protection, promotion and support of breastfeeding.

The Final Report of the 2006 World Health Organization HIV and Infant Feeding Technical Consultation1 provides welcome revised recommendations. New evidence clarifies that the most appropriate infant feeding option should continue to depend on a mother’s individual circumstances, her health status and the local situation, but should take greater consideration of available health services. HIV-positive mothers should breastfeed their babies exclusively for the first 6 months of life, and continue partially breastfeeding after 6 months unless conditions are already in place to show that replacement feeding is safe.

Commenting on the dilemma of competing risks between HIV transmission through any breastfeeding vs no breastfeeding, Dr Hoosen Coovadia was quoted this year as saying, “If you choose breastfeeding, you would of course have HIV infection. You would have about 300,000 per year in the world. But if you avoided breastfeeding, the mortality would be about 1.5 million per year. So on the balance of probabilities for poor women in the developing world, there is no other choice than to breastfeed their infants. You shouldn’t devise policies for the rich few. There are some, but the majority of HIV infected women are poor.” 2 His subsequent paper showed that HIV transmission through 6 months’ exclusive breastfeeding by South African mothers was 4%.3 Cumulative 3-month mortality due to replacement feeding was 15.1% vs 6.1% for breastfeeding.

Early weaning vs continued breastfeeding substantially increased morbidity and mortality of infected and uninfected babies in Uganda 4, Malawi,5 Kenya,6 and Zambia7. Researchers concluded that the risks should be anticipated and PMTCT programmes should strongly encourage breastfeeding into the 2nd year of life.

Specific HIV and infant feeding counselling was less effective than group information, videos and pamphlets in achieving exclusive and extended breastfeeding in Zimbabwe.8 Intriguingly, 84.5% of mothers recruited into the ZVITAMBO study did not wish to learn their HIV-status,9 thus avoiding a recommendation for early weaning for HIV-exposed babies, leading instead to an extremely high rate of HIV-free survival.10

Finally, providing antiretroviral therapy (ART) to mothers only during pregnancy and birth begs further scrutiny. While only ~1% of HIV-infected mothers currently receive it, ART for eligible mothers could reduce MTCT in resource-poor settings by over 75%.11 In Rwanda12 and Tanzania13 triple-therapy dramatically reduced transmission of HIV during 6 months exclusive breastfeeding to 0% and <1% respectively. These strategies benefit mothers and babies while avoiding the stigmatisation and risks of artificial feeding. The cost of formula was the same as the cost of highly active antiretroviral therapy (HAART) for mothers recruited into the DREAM study in Mozambique, Tanzania and Malawi.14 Acknowledging the difficulty in telling a woman that she can avoid transmitting the infection to her child, but that little can be done for her own health, researchers provided HAART to mothers from the 25th week of pregnancy through 6 months exclusive breastfeeding. Cumulative HIV transmission to infants was similar to rates reported in high-income countries and lower than those of formula-fed babies, being 2.2% and 2.7% respectively, with postnatal rates of 0.8% and 1.8%. Political will and strong leadership are needed to reverse the decade-long erosion of breastfeeding accompanying the global PMTCT effort. Characterization of formula-feeding as a safe infant feeding option can no longer be justified; contamination of powdered infant formula can occur intrinsically from raw materials, during manufacture or from extrinsic sources.15 16 Its cost has been very high in terms of infant malnutrition and mortality, and in displacement of funding away from treatment for HIV-positive mothers. Rational and humane strategies are needed to simultaneously: o improve the health and survival of HIV-infected women, o lift the burden of an impossible choice from mothers as they contemplate how best to feed their babies, o prevent transmission of HIV to exposed infants, and o protect food security for young children. WABA calls on national and international leaders to close the gap between rich and poor countries regarding access to treatment, and to use current evidence to enact universal public health measures fostering overall child survival, both within and outside the context of HIV.

For more information, kindly contact:
Pamela Morrison IBCLC
Co-coordinator WABA Breastfeeding and HIV Task Force
Rustington, England
pamelamorrisonibclc@gmail.com

For the references supporting this press release, please see http://www.waba.org.my/pdf/worldAIDSday2007.pdf

I seem to have made progress

2007-11-30T13:32:00.000-05:00

in my battle with getting our elementary school to recognize that not every child at their school celebrates Christmas! The PTA newsletter for December came home yesterday. It included a variety of holiday symbols, including, for the first time ever since I've been a school parent, some Chanukah clip art.

Back in 2004, when Sam was in kindergarten, this issue of the PTA newsletter almost caused me a coronary. You see, I have no problem with Santa, reindeer, elves, trees, and whathaveyou. I do have a problem with clipart of the Holy family in a public school newsletter. My call to the principal to discuss my concern was an odd one, to say the least. One of the more classic lines from Mr. H was, "But what do I tell the Wiccans?" Cause you know, us Jews know how to handle those rowdy Wiccans. He was also surprised that I didn't know that the Christmas Show (official title) was 'inclusive'--apparently it did deal with other December holidays and I was supposed to know this by osmosis.

Each year I've had to ask the teacher to please call the party a Holiday Party instead of Christmas Party (and Spring Party instead of Easter Party). I've had to explain why I'm taking my kid out of school to attend High Holy Day services, or why scheduling a mandatory parent meeting on Rosh Hashana is a bad idea. It feels like banging my head against the wall.

I found the newsletter in Sam's bag last night. I held my breath, wondering if I'd find Jesus in there. It was with great relief when I flipped through it all and not only found nothing to be offended by, but to even excited that the menorah clip art was included. I felt included, which has been my whole point these past few years. I'm not sure the principal and staff totally get it yet. But I think we're getting somewhere.

***

For the record, I am not looking for 'equal time' in exposing my religion to the other students. I believe that religious iconography has no place in a public school. The reality of my location is that it is going to be a long time before this school is anything like a school in NYC as far as this issue is concerned. And I'm pleased to have opened some eyes about the diversity that is in our school, even in small doses. I've been invited by both Maya and Sam's teachers to come read a book about Chanukah to the class, and I was asked by Maya's preschool teacher last year (on the same campus). I'm looking forward to sharing with these children, most of whom probably have no idea that there are some people in the world who are not Christian.

Can I get a hooray for productivity?

2007-11-29T16:49:00.000-05:00

I love to talk on the phone. To friends and relatives that is. To moms who need bf info. For some reason, anxiety related no doubt, I hate other types of phone calls: making dr appointments, hotel reservations (except for the one time I was calling Italy for reservations, I had no problem then. what's up with that?), calling Toshiba about warranty service, any work call that my dad doesn't want to make and hands off to me instead. If I can do it online without talking to a soul, I will.

However! I am sitting here with a to-do list filled with calls. And guess what, ladies (and gentlemen?)? The calls have been crossed off! One faulty ac adapter reported to Targus. One newspaper canceled. One VW service appt made. One gyn appt made. Oh, that last one? I was looking up the phone number of the office online and discovered that they make appts online now. Heaven.

The more things change, the more they stay the same

2007-11-28T08:05:00.000-05:00

When I first went back to work after Maya was born, there was a day when I was relieved to have survived my day there with two children. I started loading up the car with our belongings. When I returned to the house to get the kids, I found Sam in the bathroom. He was washing his socks in the toilet. I completely lost it. I'm not certain that I came to work the next day--I think this was the time my dad worried if I'd ever come back!

This morning I went to see what the ruckus in the bathroom was. The children were supposed to be brushing their teeth. I enter to see Sam using the handle of his toothbrush to get something out of the toilet bowl. It was a hairbrush. I completely lost it. I mean, all I could think of was WHAT THE F*CK! Fortunately I used more developmentally appropriate words. But I yelled, I tried to let the rage out. I got them to school just as the bell was ringing, and then immediately called Erik to vent. Eventually my heart stopped pounding.

I was actually on my way to my psychiatrist, for a med check appointment. That could be a whole post in and of itself, but I do want to say that she reminded me to practice saying "It doesn't matter." True, children will put their hands in the toilet and the world won't end. I am having a hard time grasping why an 8.5 year old would put something in the toilet and then try to use his toothbrush to fish it out. I'm trying though, I'm trying.

My new mantra: It doesn't matter.

Who Praises Mothers?

2007-11-27T11:22:00.000-05:00

On Thanksgiving my mil went into rapturous praise of her son-in-law's (one of my bils) talents as a father. She was talking to this particular bil's mother. She went on to say that both of her sons-in-law are great fathers, as is her son (my husband). Not once did she say anything about her daughter's being wonderful mothers.

I understand that things were different when she raised her children. Her husband has never changed a diaper and is proud of it. I'm not opposed to recognizing that today's involved dads are a source of wonder to her because her husband never lifted a finger (and for the most part still doesn't). What infuriates me is that dads seem to be praised at the exclusion of moms. What we do is just expected, normal. When a dad does the same thing people fawn over him, praise him, congratulate him.

Mothers need praise too. I wish I had a little business card or something to hand out to moms I see out and about. Instead I give them a big smile, and hope that they don't take me for a nutcase, that I'm simply sending them good mama-vibes.

***

Back to my mil, later on in the weekend she complained about a neighbor of hers, how spoiled she is and how her husband does everything she asks. Why is my mil so bitter that this woman's husband gets her coffee, or whatever? Hmm, think it has to do with 50 years of serving fil? Seriously, she makes him breakfast lunch and dinner.

Re-entry

2007-11-27T01:10:00.000-05:00

I struggle to maintain an even keel when returning home after a trip. It feels like there's never enough time to get organized for the week. There's a point when I look around and see the messes we'd left behind plus the bags we've just returned home with and I just want to scream. Instead of taking small steps towards progress I freeze up and attempt to bury my head in the ~~internet~~ sand.

At a recent session, my therapist suggested simply acknowledging that the first day or two back home is hard for me. Don't put too much pressure on myself to get everything organized or running smoothly. I really worked on that today- acknowledged that our late return yesterday had me feeling anxious, acknowledged that while I didn't feel ready for the week, the week was ready for me, and accepted that though today our bags remain packed, they'll be unpacked in due time.

Despite my wonderful walk this morning, I felt pretty crappy by early evening. Bags strewn all over the living room and hallway, backpacks and folders all over the family room, all kinds of stuff covering the dining and kitchen tables, and not an inch of kitchen counter space visible. Add one bizarre phone call from my mom and what do you get? Sobbing.

I'm floundering a bit in the chaos of re-entry into everyday life. It's ok though. My children gave me hugs as I cried. They asked why I was crying out of genuine concern for my well being. The four of us worked on the family room together, and got the backpacks in order for tomorrow. Despite the tears, I'm putting one foot in front of the other, doing the small things, and sitting with the discomfort of re-entry.

I'm a Believer

2007-11-26T14:26:00.000-05:00

I didn't really exercise last week. I exerted myself, but not as much as I do by taking a 2.5 mile walk as I did this morning. Holy cannoli I feel so much better today than I did all weekend!

I'm really not an exercise girl. I don't enjoy sweating. You can break into a sweat here in Florida just walking out to the car most of the year. I don't enjoy bouncing or jiggling- boobs or brains. Exercise often gives me a headache. My motto when it comes to exercise has usually been "an object at rest tends to stay at rest."

I'm convinced now, though, that exercise really can play a key role in regulating my mood. So I'm going to have to get creative in March, when it starts heating up around here. Right now the weather is lovely for a long walk around the lake the town is named for. The path has mile markers, which is nice.

Yeah, I know people have said this for years, but this is the first time I've really felt it in my life.

Fall in Florida

2007-11-25T22:54:00.000-05:00

Star gazing

2007-11-24T17:11:00.000-05:00

I got the NaBloPoMo Crazies

2007-11-24T10:28:00.000-05:00

I dreamt about Sognatrice last night. No clue what it was about, hopefully a visit to Italy was involved ;) Other NaBlo'ers may have been involved, I think Bipolarlawyercook for sure, not sure of who else tho.

Sanitary

2007-11-23T23:31:00.001-05:00

Manhole cover, Sanibel Island

My Daughter is Kicking my Ass these Days

2007-11-23T20:29:00.000-05:00

She wants more of me; scratch that. She wants all of me. It isn't enough to sit on the couch with me, she has to be touching me. We can't sit at a table together, we must be on the same side of the table. And then she'll get up and stand between our chairs, because "mommy, I want to beeee with you." "Mommy, I neeeeed you" is the constant refrain.

Most of the time no one else is good enough. I should be sitting here giving thanks that she happily went with Dad and Grandpa on a volunteer assignment this morning, and that she let Dad put her to sleep. Instead I sit here in fear, wondering how tomorrow will be.

I worry about my daughter. She has these tremendous emotional eruptions. She goes from sweet and loving one minute to a tornado of rage the next. Heaven forbid someone other than mom try to talk to her during those moments. Lots of grunting or shrieking. Or maybe some wildly swinging arms. This is so very much fun to explain to grandparents, or say, guests at Thanksgiving who've never met her.

Is she going to have a lifetime of emotional difficulty? Can I help her learn to handle her emotions? I work so hard at keeping my cool, so hard at modeling my emotions for her, and I'm not sure I get anywhere.

I'll keep at it though. My parents were seemingly oblivious to my anxiety. I owe it to little Jennifer to do my best by Maya.

11-22-07

2007-11-22T21:55:00.000-05:00

Rough Day

2007-11-21T21:37:00.000-05:00

I always have a hard time on travel days. I don't really know why- I guess the stress of making sure everything is packed, everyone is ready, and getting out the door make me a bit more fragile than usual.

Today I sort of crumbled before my own eyes. The kids' clothing was all together, most of mine was out, and I got a breastfeeding call. As I was helping the mom, Maya came in a number of times telling me that she was done with her lunch. She has a terrible time waiting for me to be finished talking, or to realize that not every little thing she wants to tell me is urgent. I hated asking the mom to hold on a minute, especially when the important thing Maya had to tell me was that she didn't want to finish her yogurt, but could she please have some pecan pie. *imagine woman with steam coming out her nose and ears here* So I decide to finish the call while locked in the bathroom. Only we've somehow been disconnected. I try to call her back and get some weird message about only being able to make calls in my exchange. Huh? I never did get through to her, although she left a voice mail for me. I am hoping to get back to her again on Friday or Monday.

After that the kids were getting cabin fever, each one pushing the other's buttons, and then chasing each other around the house. Not good for a woman already hanging on by a thread. I was pretty much useless till Erik got home.

Earlier in the day I noticed that I was feeling butterflies in my stomach but not really knowing what they were about. I should have taken a xanax or ativan then; by the time Erik was home I felt I was on the way to a panic attack. Instead of talking to me about it, or seeing what I needed to do to calm down, he went about packing. I understand that he's definitely a do-er, so to him, getting us packed and on the road was the solution. I just needed a hug though.

I took an ativan and slept most of the ride to my in-law's. I was not myself at dinner or afterwards (escaped to bedroom), but I'm hoping a good night's sleep will do me good, and I can have a nice weekend.

I'm logging off and finishing the Yiddish Policeman's Union!

On Writing

2007-11-20T23:17:00.000-05:00

Growing up, my parents often proofread my written homework. As I got older, these critique sessions turned into a daily dose of verbal sparring. They would point out incorrect grammar, I'd insist it was correct. Oi vey. (although if this was my idea of teenaged rebellion I think they got off easy!) Sometimes I'd make the changes they suggested, usually after I'd gone back to my room lest they think I was a pushover. I generally thought of myself as someone who struggled with writing.

My first semester required writing seminar at NYU didn't dissuade me of this. That class felt like pulling fingernails. Luckily I had a much better experience in the second semester; Glynnis was an amazing teacher, and our group of 15 or so students did some wonderful work together. For the first time I wrote a piece that just flowed out of me in fifteen minutes. I still feel proud of it when I reread it today. A few years ago I served as newsletter editor for a volunteer organization I work with. I was constantly writing, experiencing that wonderful flow of words. I realized, hey, I like writing! And I'm not bad at it! When I was through as newsletter editor, I didn't have the impetus to write as frequently, and that is what motivated me to start blogging.

Now that I've bored you with The History of Jennifer's Writing, I'm amazed and proud to share that BipolarLawyerCook awarded me with an award for Powerful Words. Thank you BLC!

According to the rules, I need to list three things that I feel make writing powerful and list five people I would like to give this award to.

honesty
an understanding of the rules of language, combined with the flexibility to work outside of the box of grammar
a feeling that the writer is pushing themselves, or going outside of their comfort zone

Identity: Student

2007-11-19T16:21:00.000-05:00

From a young age I can recall being told: if you work hard in school, you can be whatever you want to be. I guess that's to be expected when your parents are both teachers. As I got older I also recall being told that I could go to whatever college I wanted as long as I had good grades (that promise deserves its own post, someday).

So, for most of my life, I have thought of myself as "student." While I'm sure nerd or geek would have been apt as well, student is definitely the name that sticks in my mind. At least from this vantage point, I don't have any negative associations of that identity, up until my senior year of college.

When I returned to school that fall I realized that I hadn't registered to take the GRE yet, although I was planning to apply to grad schools. I found out that if I still wanted to take it in time to apply for a Fall semester grad school start date that I'd need to pay a late fee. For some reason this really threw me for a loop. I was taking an Advanced Greek class with a professor who normally taught grad students. We were reading Oeidipus Rex. There were only three of us in the class, one of whom was a hopeful grad student who was trying to brush up on his Greek before applying. Prof. B refused to call any of us by name. When it was our turn to read aloud in Greek meter or to translate, he'd simply say: You. Her. Him. It was really charming.

The GRE thing spurred on a pretty rough semester. I felt like a loser for not realizing that I needed to prepare to apply to grad school over the summer. I can't adequately describe how awful I felt to have to pay a late fee for the exam--I didn't tell my mother for fear of incurring her wrath at such a stupid error. I started questioning whether or not I really wanted to go to grad school. Advanced Greek felt like my albatross. I'd walk to class with my jaw clenched, my body feeling almost magnetically repelled from the building. I started having a tough time eating, partially due to the anxiety and partially due to how clenched my jaw was. I started confiding in my sister and some friends. One week I went to therapy three times (I was already going twice, but that third appointment was an emergency necessity). Finally I decided to drop the Greek class. I didn't need it to graduate, and I was not handling the pressure well at all. It was a tough decision--I am not a quitter.

At some point I realized I was sick of being a student. Erik and I were seriously involved. I wanted to move on, get away from this box I was in. I told my parents that I wouldn't be going to grad school. Oooh, that was not a fun evening. My mom was livid. I just felt relieved. I managed to enjoy the rest of that semester and the spring semester. I spent a lot of time with Erik at his parent's home. I worked hard on an honors thesis with a Latin professor, and had a great time doing research at the main branch of the New York Public Library (you know, with the lions out front. If you are a library lover do yourself a favor: request a book and sit in the main reading room with it for a while. Fun times.).

Finally it was graduation day. An NYU graduation is an amazing event. It is held in Washington Square Park. NYU is not a traditional "school spirit" type of place. However, I think our graduations would make anyone's heart burst with pride--the sea of purple robes, the bag pipe players on the top of the arch, the Tiffany designed NYU torch. It was one of the best days of my life. It was only later that I realized, by wishing away my days of student-hood, that I had squandered some of my time there.

Sometimes I wish I could be that student Jennifer again--when I picture myself, that is who I see. Jennifer with the cool haircut, black tights, short skirt, beloved black suede shoes, funky vintage rain coat. I'm surprised when I look in the mirror and that is not who is staring back at me.

Am I even capable of being a student again? For a long time even the idea of expending effort to study, or write a paper was enough to bring me anxiety. Taking the IBCLC exam this year showed me that I can be a student again, I do have the determination and stamina to do it. Will I be able to have a better balance this time, or will student-hood consume the other parts of my identity? We'll see. For now I think being a student is a part of my heritage, my gene pool. Teachers for parents, one grandmother a poet, one grandfather a librarian. I continue this heritage with my children, sharing the love of learning with them, and hopefully helping them to enjoy the many facets of their personalities.

***

My first post on identity was about names. I'll be writing about the mother of all identity issues, motherhood, soon.

Random thoughts

2007-11-18T23:40:00.000-05:00

I would not make a good spider. What tenacious creatures- weaving and re-weaving their webs! There are two spiders outside our house who've had their webs going for more than a month. There's been wind, rain, kids running through their anchor lines, and they're still there! Aha, they are called Spiny Orb Weavers; here is one of the dudes outside of our house
a random tune on the radio brings me back instantly: Enjoy the Silence, I'm walking up Lex on my way to the Greek Consulate to do some volunteer work. In the beat of the song, I feel my stride, my tights, my shoes, my 20 year old self.
I don't particularly enjoy being outside, so I don't get my kids outside as much as I 'should' (damn I hate that word!). I know they need physical activity, and I soothe that worry by reminding myself of their daily recess and four times a week PE class. Fortunately for all of us, we are at the time of year when it is pleasant to be outside in Florida.
Similarly, I recognize that my kids need the opportunity to play with other kids, but I have a hard time getting past my own social awkwardness to invite kids over or arrange meet ups with other kids. Solution: teach kids to make their own phone calls to invite kids over. (and yes, I have done this!)

Control

2007-11-17T14:32:00.000-05:00

I have a control problem. I want to be in control-I want things to be how I envision them. But I also want someone to take care of things for me. I've let my husband take care of certain things (by let I mean I allowed myself to let go of being in control) and then ended up frustrated because they didn't turn out how I wanted them to be. Yet I don't seem to have the...ability? stamina? discipline? to make things turn out how I want them. So I end up not taking any steps towards what I'd like to see at all.

There are some things I've been able to let go of. I finally stopped organizing our pots and pans in their drawer, because I was the only one putting them away so neatly, or in a certain order. And guess what, they still all fit in the drawer. It bugs me that the drawer is a mess, and I think it is more efficient to have it organized, but I am not irritated when Erik puts a pan where it 'doesn't belong' any more. Same for the dishwasher. I would often re-arrange what Erik loaded because I think my way is better, but I'm trying to let go of that. I mean, who cares how it is as long as they get clean, right? I have hard time watching Erik do laundry as well. But the reality is that the clothing ends up just as clean when it's sorted willy-nilly as it does when I sort according to my standards.

All of this ties into anxiety and perfectionism. I'm learning that two steps forward, one step back can result in progress, not failure. The journey is important too- who cares if things are the way I want them, if I have to be miserable getting there? Isn't it better to have a relaxed, fun day where things get part way accomplished? It's a hard lesson, and it isn't easy for me to take baby steps. I'm figuring out how to sit with my feelings when I feel uncomfortable inside, instead of freaking out. Wish me luck!

Days of Awe

2007-11-16T13:52:00.000-05:00

The Jewish High Holy Days are also known as the Days of Awe. Last night as I read to Sam before bed, I thought it was also an apt description of those delicious moments of parenthood, when you just can't believe what you're witnessing in the growth of another human being.

Maya's learning to read. It's a mind blowing thing to see. She's so eager, and her face positively glows when she reads us a book that's at just the right level for her. The whole world is opening up--Mama, what does this spell? Mama, how do you spell that? So many questions. I love it. It's just magical when they go from not-reading to reading. I have so many doubts and worries as a parent, yet knowing that I'm raising two children who love to read goes a long way in soothing my worries.

A few weeks ago I saw this book at the library: Tour America: A Journey Through Poems and Art. I decided not to borrow it, as I already had my arms full of books. When we went to the library on Wednesday, I was thrilled that Sam chose it from the new book shelf. I was reading the poems to Sam last night; we were just having a great time looking at the wonderful illustrations, paintings, and collages which accompany the poetry. He was getting so tired, yet he really wanted me to keep reading. I turned out the light and we talked for a few minutes in the dark. He was so interested in the places the poems described, the art in the book, in figuring out what the poems meant.

These are my days of awe.