Let's Put the Mas Back in Christmas!

    Look, I can't help it.  I'm not really that Christian, but I am really that Mexican.  In Spanish, mas means more.  and that's what I want.  I want to put the mas back in Christmas.  Not mas presents, not mas decorations, not mas money, not mas stress, not mas food.  Mas, the real mas, the mas that counts, the mas that lasts, the mas that makes a difference, because that's what Christmas is supposed to be, isn't it?  It all started with a baby who grew up and did mas.  Mas than anyone expected, mas than was thought possible, mas than the world was used to seeing, mas than his fellow man, just mas, he did mas.  

     Christmas is over.  I'm inclined to say "thank God".  Ha ha.  But not so much ha ha.  I saw an interesting and disturbing juxtaposition on Facebook today.  Amid all the "Merry Christmases" and happy holiday photos were some rather angry posts.  Things like "I've got a long fuse, but when I'm done, I'm done" kind of things.  I wondered how can you post so much angry at Christmas; what the hell is wrong with these people.  And then I realized, Christmas.  Christmas is what's wrong with people.  We stress ourselves out to the point of angry and upset.  Will Dad like his new tie?  Is Cousin Tilly going to complain about my new cranberry sauce recipe?  Why can't I get my tree straight?  Did I send a card to Jim from the high school reunion?  Should I give the mailman money or a lottery ticket?  On and on the list of worries grows.

     It grows and grows and grows and by the time Christmas morning comes, we're exhausted, bitter, angry, insecure, sick, tired, achy, miserable, short tempered, frazzled, broken out, wrecks.  Why? Look, I'm no kinda religious, not by a long shot.  I know that Christmas is supposed to be about the baby Jesus, for me, it's less esoteric than all of that.  It's supposed to be about all those cliches in all those movies.  And who'da thunk that Hollywood could actually do us some good?  But they do, every Christmas here comes some new movie trying to remind us what Christmas Spirit is about.  And we're all touched, maybe we even tear up a bit.  We leave the theater warm and cozy, filled up with goodwill towards men and what do we do?  We head to the mall and all of it gets flushed right down the toilet as we start cursing over finding a parking spot, the prices of the latest electronics, the crowds, the heat, the commercialism.  We actually can learn a lot from the movies, if we'd just keep it in our hearts.  So, here's my Hollywood Christmas, it might just be the best thing Hollywood has ever done for us.

The Bishop's Wife:
Tonight I want to tell you the story of an empty stocking. Once upon a midnight clear, there was a child's cry. A blazing star hung over a stable and wise men came with birthday gifts. We haven't forgotten that night down the centuries; we celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees, the sound of bells and with gifts. But especially with gifts. You give me a book; I give you a tie. Aunt Martha has always wanted an orange squeezer and Uncle Henry could do with a new pipe. We forget nobody, adult or child. All the stockings are filled... all that is, except one. And we have even forgotten to hang it up. The stocking for the child born in a manger. It's his birthday we are celebrating. Don't ever let us forget that. Let us ask ourselves what he would wish for most... and then let each put in his share. Loving kindness, warm hearts and the stretched out hand of tolerance. All the shining gifts that make peace on earth.

Scrooged:
It's Christmas Eve! It's... it's the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we... we... we smile a little easier, we... w-w-we... we... we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be!

Miracle on 34th Street:

Yeah, there's a lot of bad 'isms' floatin' around this world, but one of the worst is commercialism. Make a buck, make a buck. Even in Brooklyn it's the same - don't care what Christmas stands for, just make a buck, make a buck.

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (the real one!):
He puzzled and puzzed till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. Maybe Christmas, he thought... doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps... means a little bit more.

It's A Wonderful Life:
Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends.

And Finally,

National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation:

I don't know what to say, except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.

     We don't have to be, you know.  We don't have to be in misery.  We don't have to fall prey to the "isms".   We can decide to put the mas back in Christmas.  Maybe you hang a stocking for the baby Jesus and each family member puts in a promise for the year, a pledge of kindness and maybe you leave the stocking up all year to remind you of the promises you made to each other, to mankind.  Each Christmas you could look at the promises from the previous year and think about how you did, and what you could do this coming year.  Maybe instead of worrying about the number of gifts under the tree, you start a tradition in your family to encourage spending time with each other, drive the neighborhood and look at lights or go to a shelter and hand out food or clean out your closets and make donations to the poor.  Maybe you change the tradition each year just to make it about giving.  Look, I don't pretend to have the answers, I do have the questions, the answers are up to you.  I'm tired, you're tired.  We're all tired.  But we chose to be tired.  We chose to drive ourselves crazy.  We didn't choose to say "enough, I'm not playing this game anymore."  
     
     Well, I'm saying it.  Enough is enough already.  I'm putting the Mas back in Christmas!  Next year will be calmer, quieter, more peaceful.  Next year, this year, I'm going to keep Christmas in my heart and out of my wallet!  I'm going to enjoy the moments and not count the money!

ALS is Cool!

It must be because I see a bunch of Celebrities on Facebook doing an ice bucket challenge to make me aware of it.  I just might pour a bunch of ice on my head too.  Why not?  I love the Pens and I don't mind being associated with them, some of my friends have done it already.  I don't really know what it is, but I know it's out there and I should pour ice on my head because of it.

And so I begin to wonder.  What the hell is the point of pouring ice on your head?  That's just wasteful and we waste enough water as it is.  Here's what I know, ALS sucks.  I don't want it, I don't want anyone I know to have it.  How many people are really looking it up because The Flower poured ice on his head?  I don't feel like it's that many.  I feel like it's less then it could be because I never see a link to anything so I could learn about it or donate to it.  I keep asking people I know if they are aware of the ice bucket challenge for ALS and they are, then I ask what ALS is and they don't know.  One of my friends who did the challenge has no idea what he did it for except that Letang did it, so he did.  You're accomplishing nothing.  After a few days, I finally start seeing that if you're challenged and don't do it in 24 hours or something, then you have to donate $100.00.  (Still no links)  So, wait, I either dump ice on my head or cough up $100.00?  How about instead of buying ice to waste, I just donate the $1.69?  AND if all these celebrities are meeting the challenge, does that mean they're not donating because that's pretty ridiculous.  Frankly, I don't have $100.00 to just donate because someone challenged me and I don't see a point in wasting a bunch of ice either.

Yeah yeah, I hear you, I know, "but they're raising awareness!"  So, a lot of things really suck, maybe I'm not aware they suck and then you tell me how they suck and I say "yeah, that sucks."  So?  I agreed with you.  It sucks, whatever "it" is.  But did I do anything?  Did you?  Did we actually effect change?  No.  We just agreed it sucks.  Cancer Sucks, Multiple Sclerosis Sucks,  Hemorrhoids Suck,  Diabetes Sucks, Autism Sucks, Being Marginalized Sucks, Downs Syndrome Sucks, Anxiety Sucks, Sudden Infant Death Syndrome Sucks, Strokes Suck, Heart Disease Sucks, Bullying Sucks, X-Linked Juvenile Rentinoschisis Sucks, Liver Disease Sucks, Multiple Personality Disorder Sucks, Depression Sucks, Bipolar Sucks, Forest Fires Suck, Hurricanes Suck, Flash Floods Suck, A.I.D.S Sucks, Deafness Sucks, Erectile Dysfunction Sucks, Suicide Sucks,  hell, a lot of things suck.  I just gave you a list, are you running around donating money or volunteering because of my list?  No. You are saying "yep, those things all suck."  We have accomplished nothing.

Maybe if the videos started with a check and ended with an ice bucket?  Or how about something like "for every like I get I will donate .05 cents"?  Money makes a difference, ice just melts.  Ok, ok, so maybe a couple of people looked it up and found out what it was, how many of them are then going the extra distance to find a way to donate to research and then actually donating?  Hardly any, if any.  A lot less than there could be I suspect.  At least put a damn link to make it easy!

You've made no difference by reading this blog or watching Mario dump ice on his head.  But here's how you can help.  I'm going to include a bunch of links so you can donate to the charity of your choice, and guess what, you don't even have to dump any ice on your head or challenge anyone else!  You don't have to put yourself in any discomfort whatsoever!  I would appreciate it that if you donate anything or even just found my list a little entertaining, just like my blog on Facebook or +1 it on google.  Maybe you could even share it and one of your friends will donate to something.  Even if it's just .10cents, it's something and SOMETHING makes a difference.  Nothing is, well, nothing.

Or, is it that we need to be entertained in order to feel the need to donate or effect a change?  If that's it, this world is in more trouble than I suspected.

To donate, click on any of the links below!  It's that simple!  Keep in mind, I have not vetted all the sites, except the last one, because we donate to that one!  So click the link and make sure you feel good about it, maybe let me know you donated, then do a little dance, because you're a good person!  If you don't donate, do a little dance anyway, because it's just fun!

ALS Lou Gehrig's disease:

American Cancer Society

St. Judes

Multiple Sclerosis

Diabetes

Autism Speaks

Down's Syndrome

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome

Strokes

American Heart Association

Bascom Palmer Eye Institute

Liver Disease

Multiple Personality Disorder

Depression

Anxiety

Suicide Hotline

Forest Fires

A.I.D.S.

American Red Cross

Deafness

Erectile Dysfunction

Clean Drinking Water

CJs Racing Dream

Whose Fault is it Really if You Get a Ticket? Yours!

Ok, tickets are annoying and expensive.  Parking tickets, speeding tickets, inspection expiration tickets.  I know I hate them, but really, if you got one, it's your own damn fault, quit blaming the police.  If the speed limit is 65 and you go 75 and you get a ticket, that's your fault.  You knew what the rule was, it was right there on the side of the road.  If you don't put money in the meter and you get a ticket, that's your fault.  You knew there was a meter, it was right there.  If your inspection is up for 3 months and you get pulled over and get a ticket, that's your fault.  You got the letter in the mail 5 months ago!

I cannot for the life of me understand how people get mad and pissed off at police officers for giving out tickets.  It's part of their job.  AND you know the rules!  If you don't, you shouldn't have a license.  It's that simple.

And let's not forget, sometimes those tickets help solve other serious crimes.  Let's all remember that Son of Sam was caught because of a parking ticket.  Now, I'm hoping you're not out there randomly killing strangers or breaking into little old ladies houses or knocking over liquor stores, but if you are and you get a ticket while you're doing it, then good, that will help track you down and you're dumb.

Can we PLEASE lay off the police for this already?  Their jobs are hard enough.  Yes, they wrote you a ticket for parking in a no parking zone, but they're also the ones you're going to call when some dbag sideswipes your car while you were getting your teeth cleaned.  You're going to call them when you go to the shopping mall and see some poor dog or child locked in an unattended car in 80 degree weather.  You're going to call them when you're drunk and wandering the city at 3am and get mugged.

And by the way, to all you whiners running around getting tickets because you just can't seem to get the rules straight, thank you.  Because of you my taxes won't go up because your irresponsibility and flagrant disregard for the rules is helping to pay for the police force.  You see, it's not free to call the police because you notice a strange van parked in front of your neighbors house and you see lights going on and off in the house and you know for a fact that your neighbor is in another state tending to a sick relative.  Someone has to pay the officer's salary, for the car he's driving to investigate, the gas that's in the car, the bullet proof vest that just might save him one day.  Police are not free.  But by all means, let's do away with tickets and all of that can come out of our pocket at tax time!  How's about that?

Personally, I'm glad they write tickets.  Hell, I got one today because I forgot to move my car for street cleaning.  Well, someone's got to pay the street cleaners, so I guess it's my turn.  I'm off to drop my ticket in the ticket box with my payment.  But before I do, just so we're clear, let me give you the definition of the word "police" from Merriamwebster.com:

po·lice

 verb \pə-ˈlēs\

: to control and keep order in (an area) by the use of police or military forces

: to control (something) by making sure that rules and regulations are being followed

Jumping Off a Cliff

This is life with Brian.  Wandering around the hills, valleys, plateaus, enjoying the scenery.  Smelling the flowers.  Traversing a desert with no hope of water.  Just when I'm about to give up, an oasis.  Finding an oak tree hundreds of years old, slumbering amongst the roots, deep cool in the shade.  Shoving my toes into the soft mud at the bottom of a stream.  Sitting on a little hummock dotted with buttercups.  Discovering the foundations of a long gone home, with a horseshoe still nailed in the wall.  Drifting to sleep in a meadow, the grass so deep you cannot see.  Shivering in the cold and rain, wanting nothing but to sleep and not wake up, and then a dry cave, with dry wood.  This is life with Brian.

And then a cliff.  What happens next is inevitable.  He grabs my hand, he jumps.  Before I can think, squirm away, pull my hand from his, I'm plummeting alongside, having no idea if we will live through the fall.  But he knows.  And we land.  Safe, unhurt.  Smiling.  Big.  Laughing.  I'm confused, I'm breathless.  Brian starts walking, and in a daze I follow.  This is life with Brian.

Opposites attract.  Like begets like.  I don't know.  I only know that in 5 years I have taken on adventures I never thought to.  He gives me no time to think because think I will, long, hard, longer.  By the time I make up my mind, frequently the chance is gone.  I used to chalk that up to fate and say that I was not meant to (insert activity here).  Now I realize, I thought my way out of opportunities.  An ambush wedding and now an ambush home purchase.   This is life with Brian.

10 months of marriage.  I'm beginning to think I was smart enough to marry a man who is everything I am not.  Nope, strike that.  I'm not that smart.  He was smart enough to make sure I married him, because he knew he's exactly what I needed.  Life was going along just fine, well there were struggles, deaths, disappointments, but it was going along.  There was a comfort in our routines, an assurance, a strength.  Then he grabbed my hand and jumped out of steady and into marriage without a doubt.  At least no doubt he ever let me see.  2 1/2 weeks to plan and it was beautiful, he knew it would be.  I'm still in a daze, still shocked and surprised at odd moments, the sun glints off my wedding ring and I think "How did that get there?  Did that really happen?"  This is life with Brian.

He makes decisions with such certitude.  If only I had that.  Wait, I do, because I have Brian, and he is always certain enough for both of us.  He has a faith within him that pulls apart doubt, breaks it down and leaves behind only the answer.  Plain, simple, clear.  Never a worry that this is a mistake, whatever the "this" is, just the answer and a leap.  And faith.  An endless waterfall of faith.  He truly believes that everything will be just fine, and if it's not, well, then we'll learn and try again, and again, and again.  The right cliff will come and when it does, he will jump with me alongside him, we will land and continue our journey.  This is life with Brian.

Me?  I'd prefer a parachute, just in case.  A little reconnaissance, perhaps?  A map, maybe?  I'm learning.  5 years and I've almost stopped looking behind me at the cliff receding into the sky as we plummet!  I'm learning to try and watch the ground rush up at me and smile.  It's not working, really.  For now, I'll just look at Brian.  He has faith we will land safely, and I have faith in him.  I may not know where we're going to land, or even if we will land, but I do know that smile on his face is strong enough to protect us both.  

This is life with Brian, a lesson in leaps of faith.  A lesson worth learning.  I suggest you try one.  You might just surprise yourself. I'm surprised all the time in my life with Brian.

Pay Station Parking Is the Devil!

I am not a fan.  I know, it seems so much more convenient, no more need for quarters! And let's face it, most of don't use cash anymore and hardly ever have quarters.  I rarely have them.  But when I do I like to walk down a street and put some in expired meters.  It's a random act of kindness and a way to stick it to the man.  I really love doing it when I see a meter maid on the other side of the street!  I've been known to cross the street and walk ahead of them.  (True story, I was once told by a meter maid I was not allowed to do it and threatened with a ticket.  I did it anyway, turns out there is no ticket they can write, ha ha!  Take that!)

AND don't make a mistake when you're paying, because you'll get double charged.  Found that one out yesterday.  I meant to add time to my meter but hit the accept button instead so I had to start over again.  The thing is, it didn't register the dollar I had already put on it, so I paid that dollar twice!

AND it's a dollar minimum if you're using a card.  What if I only need 15 minutes (which is a quarter), I'm screwed! I have to pay for 45 minutes I know I'm not using because I didn't have any quarters on me anyway. I'm being overcharged for convenience and they know they got me by the short and curlies!

AND let's say you overpay.  No more surprise for the next person when they pull into your recently vacated spot and find an hour still on the meter!  Bastards!

Those damn pay stations are sprouting up everywhere.  How am I supposed to be nice to people if one of my favorite outlets is gone.  Seriously!  It's not like I want to be nice in a way where I get caught.  I don't like getting caught.  I like being nice when nobody but me knows it.  These things are ruining my happiness.  

Guess I'll just randomly put scratchy game tickets on cars that got parking tickets, of course those are a dollar, not a quarter.  My sneaky random acts just got more expensive.  At least that way they might win enough money to pay for it.  Take that!  You will not beat me down!  I will find a way to screw you meter maids yet!  (and yes, I like saying meter maids.  It pisses them off and their tickets piss me off, turn about it fair play.)

I'm Glad You Are Suffering

You don't deserve this.  That's what I want to say.  It's true for most people.  They don't deserve the hardships that they are thrust into the midst of.  I've struggled with this, personally, for 16 years.  My son more so.  I find myself always asking "why?".  Why is my beautiful bright boy wandering about the world never knowing if this is his last sunset?  Will tomorrow he go into the darkness, his vision gone?  Why him?  And yet, he's never asked that question.  He accepts it as fact and goes on with his life.

But why?  It's so random.  I watch my friends and family struggling with their own suffering and wonder, why?  Why is this young vibrant human struggling with cancer?  Why did that one lose their toddler?  Why can't this one get pregnant?  Why does that one have a son struggling so with his identity?  Why? Why? Why?  These are good people, they've hurt no one, and yet they suffer.

I hold on to a thought I had, years ago.  I don't know if I'm right, but I hope I am, it's the only way I get through it all now.  I told my son I was grateful it was him.  I was glad he was the one losing his vision and not some other child.  I told him it was better this way because we were strong enough.

Maybe that's the why.  We get the struggles we are strong enough for, though we may not believe that at the time, in the middle of the pain, when our whole world feels as though it will fly apart and shatter into a million tiny shards, taking us with it, when we crumple onto a bed and fall into an exhausted sleep after baptizing our pillows with prayer filled tears.  We are strong enough for this.  Others are not.  This is why is it you, or me, or him, or her, or them.

This is why I am grateful.  As I watch people navigate their stormy waters, I realize, they have a good strong ship.  They will make it through.  I'm glad they have the struggle and not another who cannot survive the storm.

To one friend I say "It is you because another Mother and Wife would fail her children and husband, but you are strong enough for them.  You will guide them through this, you will be strong, and they will see that they can make it through.  Your family will be safe in the Great Big Love you have for them.  Thank God it is not another person, one without strength.  There would be so much more suffering in the world if it were."

To another friend I say "It is your child suffering this, because his Mother and Father Love more deeply than I have ever seen, and that is all the strength and comfort that he will need to sustain him.  Thank God that it is not a child with absentee parents who would be truly alone in this struggle."

To all of them I say "Thank God that it is you who are suffering this.  Another would not be able to find it in themselves to go on living. Another would give up, desert their loved ones, leave them alone.

It may not be a comfort now, in the middle of it, as the air is crushed out of you and you can sob no more.  But as the clouds clear, and they will, as the rain stops, and it will, as the waters still again, and they will, thank God that you were strong enough.  Thank God that it was not someone else for we would not wish our pain on others.  I'm glad it was you, and not another, because I know you have it in you to do this.  I know that, together, we will make it through.  I know you are not alone.  I am right here with you.

A Parade of Death and Voices

It seems our life together has been one prep for a death and funeral after another.  We began with an illness and death.  As Brian's Father wasted away from cancer, we became friends.  My heart went out to this man who soon would lose his Father, mine having been gone for 16  years.  In the five years Brian and I have known each other, he has lost a Father, Step-Father, Brother, Mother and a Dear Friend.  I have lost a Cousin, Great-Aunt and an Uncle.  We have not had 12 months in a row without a death.  We're averaging a death every 5.4 months.

It seems just as we are taking a breath, learning to live with the void that has just been created, the whirlwind whips into our home, scattering thoughts of safety and sanity and leaving more despair in it's wake than the last time.  We take a collective family deep breath and brace our shoulders to walk into the storm again.  Grim, determined, holding on to each other tighter each time.

Each night I go to bed, wondering how I will sleep, how will Brian sleep, how will Mikhail sleep?  Will there be nightmares, busy minds fighting against repose, restless bodies trying to will and force cancer away from someone we love or sweet exhaustion?  I never know what the night will hold.

Well, I know what some of the night will hold.  The voices.  Quiet, determined, angry, laughing, sad, regretful, hopeful, encouraging, despondent, lost, aware, confused, enlightened, brilliant voices.  They speak to me from within my heart.  Some of them I did not know in life at all but through stories, others I could look on their face and know what they were thinking.  No matter who they were to me in life, I can hear them when they are gone.  Whispering to my mind, soothing my soul.  They speak to me.  Every morning I wake a little stronger, knowing that they will be there counseling me, guiding me, never leaving me, I have only to listen for them and they will be there.

5 years of death and I finally get it.  The platitudes we pass to each other to offer comfort at a loss,  they have meaning.  There is a reason we all say all the same things over and over, death after death. "We never really lose our loved ones, they live on in our hearts."  And they do.  If only we will listen for them.  I have learned to listen.  To quiet my mind and soul, to hear what they would say to me.  Some of the voices that were harsh and unforgiving in life, I hear them soften as they leave this world and realize some things were just not that important and others should have been more so.  Egos, the need to prove you're right, an obligation to criticize, a neediness that could never be satisfied, a desire to always seemed strong and above everything, prioritizing outside of family and friends, none of them important in the end.

When the realization hit that one day, in the not too distant future, my Daddy would be gone and he was handling it with a Spockian sense of inevitability, I was enraged.  I yelled at him, how could he so easily discuss deserting me?  What about when I needed advice or just wanted to talk to him?  How could he treat that with so little concern and sensitivity?  What he said to me then, it has taken me 21 years to truly hear.  "Kitten, you'll always know what I would say because you know me."  

21 years later, I see how right he was, how prophetic.  We never really lose them.  Their voices live in our hearts and sing to our souls.  I've watched my husband struggle with each loss, wondering if he was a disappointment to each loved one gone, is he disappointing them now, are they proud, angry?  Wondering what they would say to him.  Each day I remind him that the only thing they could leave behind truly was the love they had.  I remind him that's all any of us can leave behind, it's the only thing we would choose to leave behind, our love.  And I remind myself.  I remind him that life, no matter how long you have, is too short for anger and resentment.  It's the thing those traveling their last days always say.  If we listen to our loved ones while they are here, we will always hear them, they will never leave us and we will always know what they would say.

Happy Birthday To ME!

Good Morning, All!  Today is my birthday and I'm 43 years old!  I'm starting with this because I want it understood that I like my age.  It's taken me a long time and a lot of hard work to get here and I'm proud of it.  This was not always the case.  I was well practiced at lying about it.  For years I turned 23, then 27 a couple of times, then, as my son got older, had him add 18 to his age (which means I would be 35 this year if I was still lying!) but no more!  I'm 43.

My Grandmother never let us say her age out loud, still doesn't.  When I asked her why she said it was because people tend to pigeon hole you with assumptions based on your age.  I know that to be true, but I can't help it, I'm 43.  If you want to put me in some stereotype of 43, well, I guess you had better get on with it, but before you do, let me tell you about my version of 43.

I play toys.  (This is how my son called playing with toys as a toddler)  I do it.  Some little kid asks me to play a game, wrestle around the living room, color in a book, have a race, blow bubbles in my chocolate milk, pick weeds and call them flowers, pretend to be zoo animals, I'm going to.  That child is going to grow up, and there won't be any more of that, take it while you can.

I play pranks on people.  Hmm, come to think of it, it's time for a good one, note to self.  Life is short enough and short on laughter, I need to laugh, but more, I need to hear other people laugh.  I'm not mean spirited, pranks don't have to be mean.  Play them, create more laughter in the world, or at the very least, learn some really good jokes!

I watch cartoons.  Who wants to watch horrid reality t.v. which is overproduced and sad documentaries and violent news programs?  Sure watch them, but never underestimate the healing power of a good cartoon, remember those?  They made you laugh?  Go laugh!  Let go, you don't always have to be a grown up, get in touch with the inner child, even if it's just for one half hour cartoon.

I listen to new music.  I also listen to old music.  I like to know what the youngsters are listening to, it helps to figure them out, understand them a little better, stay in touch with them.  Seems to me that teenagers trust you a little more if you are interested in some of the things they are interested in.  Wait a sec, hmm, I don't think that just applies to teenagers, does it?  Nope.  Adults are the same, aren't we?

I like candy!  I get excited when I get candy, and not the grown up chocolate truffle business (well, yes I do, but we're not talking about that).  Give me a Watermelon Blow Pop and I'm thrilled!  It gives me the taste of my youth for a moment and I am transported to Goldstein's Candy Store with a quarter in my pocket and the dilemma of choosing a Summit, a Wachtmacallit, Chewy Sweet Tarts, KitKat, Reese Cups, Big League Chew, Bubble Yum or a couple of Blow Pops!  Remember smell and taste are strong memory inducers, so go induce your memory!

I still climb trees.  I can't help myself.  I see a good climbing tree, I've got to get up in it.  Even if I'm wearing dress pants and weejuns and at an honest to God Irish wake in Edinboro (Pennsylvania, I should be so lucky to be at the real one!).  Yes, I did that.  In that tree I was easily 3 stories above the ground.  I really didn't think anyone would see me, it was dusk, there was lots of foliage, but they did, so I came down to fearful cries from my soon to be Mother In Law.  It was scandalous!  Brian alternated between embarrassed, resigned and proud!  But what better time to climb a tree?  I was at a wake, a reminder to grasp all that life has thrown in front of me because I'm only getting so many chances to climb a tree before I'm going to be planted under one.

So, my friends, go out, make laughter, make love, make memories, make the most of the years you have been here so the ones you have left will be fantastic!

How to Have The Biggest Wedding EVER!

First:  Start with a guest list that includes every single person you know, at least 300 people!  Second:  Make it a formal masquerade ball in the largest most sought after venue you can get your hands on!  Third:  Choose the most expensive caterer for your food!  Fourth:  Open bar!  Fifth:  Provide the most intricate masques possible as party favors!  Sixth:  Go into debt for the rest of your lives before you've even said "I do"!

Or

Realize this day is first day the two of you will openly share the love you have for each with your loved ones and that they will be sharing their love with you and make it about that.  I didn't realize that was what was happening the day Brian and I got married until the day was there, I was in the middle of it and realized that day did not belong to just the two of us.  Our wedding day did not happen because we loved each other that much, it happened because other people loved us that much.
 
I loved our wedding, but I didn't think anyone else would think much of it.  It just wasn't "big".  It was put together in 2 1/2 weeks and we were pretty broke.  The cost was minimal, especially for Brian and me.  We had planned on a simple JP kind of thing.  That's not what we got.  What we got was  a ceremony, a catered lunch at our favorite restaurant, a dress, shoes, rings, flowers, a photographer, a cake.  We got a wedding, everything you could want.  Certainly more than I had expected, hoped for, dreamed of, you name it.  We had all of it, because other people love us, love us enough to make our day something to remember and nothing to regret.  No "if only", "I wish we could have" or "someday we'll do it again right".  We did it right because we did it with love, and not just our own.  As it turns out, it was The Biggest Wedding EVER!  I didn't know that at the time, but I do now.

I thought a wedding was all about the vows.  That you are making a series of promises to this person in front of everyone you care about.  This is what made the idea so real to me, I knew if I promised these things in front of my family I was bound to keep them.  And pretty much that's a wedding, right?

This is what I learned:  Our wedding was about sharing the love others have for us with each other.  It was about learning how important we are, to others, that our love and commitment  is important, to others.  Every time we talk about "our wedding" we are talking about a day that belongs to more than just the two of us, it belongs to everyone who brought their love to us that day.  Our marriage is bigger than Richelle and Brian, it's as big as the love so many share with us, and that is endless.

And that, my friends, is how you have the Biggest Wedding EVER!  Make it about all the love that surrounds you, all the love you send out into the world, and you will have a wedding and marriage that is bigger than the 2 of you, and infinite.  How can anything that starts off that big and strong do anything but get bigger and stronger?

Remember I said I didn't think anyone else would think much about our wedding?  Well, someone did, recently our wedding was featured in an online bridal magazine.  Here's the link to the article about The Biggest Wedding EVER! if you'd like to read more about it and see just how a whole family came together to fill up one day with so very much love.  (spoiler alert: it's awesome!)

http://poptasticbride.com/2014/04/kaleidoscope-cafe-wedding/#.U2egoF49bKG

Parenting the Hard Way Part 1: Truth or Consequences

One of the greatest achievements of my life is having never lied or broken a promise to my son.  I always thought this was a great accomplishment, until I sat down and really thought about it.  It's not that difficult, really.  It requires some thought, sure, and sometimes some planning and a lot of groundwork.  But that's really it.  I've realized, however, how important this has been to our relationship and his formation as a person.  The goal here is to raise a child in whom you can trust so that finally you have raised an adult in whom others can put their trust.

I learned this from my son.  He told me I was the best Mother because he knows I never ever lie to him.  He trusts me.

So how does it work?

1.  Never, and I really really mean never, make a promise you cannot keep.

We've all been the victim of "I promise someday we will", and then someday never came.  (I'm still waiting for my Dad to take me horseback riding and that's never going to happen now that he's gone!)

What I've never understood is why we say this for things we know darn well are pretty much probably never going to happen.  So, what do we do?  Be honest.  If your child is asking for something instead of putting them off with a "someday", explain why not.  Or just frankly tell them "no".  Don't make a vague "someday" promise, because they WILL remember that someday never came.

I weigh my promises very carefully.  If I don't know for 100% certainty that I can follow through, I don't promise.  When I do promise, nothing gets in the way.  The best part of this is that as my son has gotten older, he has learned to value my promises and let me off the hook.  Short story, that happened once when I promised a weekend trip and a relative passed away.  My son is the one who cancelled the trip, he was 10.  He told me that our family was more important.  The will surprise you like that when you make them that important to you, you become that important to them.

2.  Never, and I really really mean never, make a threat you won't follow through on.

Seriously, how many times have you been out in public and some kid is acting like an animal and you hear some parent say "if you do that one more time, we're leaving" about a hundred times until you want to say "Hey, so when exactly are you leaving?  Because your kid is ruining my dinner, shopping, or sanity?"  Pretty much, um, a lot, I'm sure.  Guess what?  I'm that parent that asks them when they are leaving.

This was a really hard thing to do for me.  I've never been the Mom with a lot of money so walking into the amusement park after shelling out $75 just to get in and a half hour into it, one line, not even on a ride yet and to throw out that threat?  It hurt.  He did it one more time and we left.  Flush $75 down the toilet.  At the time that was about a full day's pay for me.  I bit the bullet.  I did it.  Oh, it was not enough.  That was followed by a dinner out with some friends.  He did it one more time, we left.  Before the food came.  I paid the check anyway.  It hurt.  BUT, he never did it again.  All it took from then on was the threat, "do that one more time and we're leaving", and he stopped, immediately. Why?  He KNEW I meant it.  No matter the cost, no matter what I was missing out on.  Now, the dinner thing had another side.  We got home, I explained that animals are not allowed in restaurants and if he was going to act like an animal, then he couldn't go anymore.  For the next month I went out at least once a week to the restaurants without him.  (Side note to single moms, I couldn't really afford to go out anywhere that much!  I'd take him to my mom's, drop him off and maybe hit the mcdonalds for some fries or a shake because I never lie to him, and it IS a restaurant after all, and then pick him up and tell him how much I liked the restaurant and how pleasant it was and how nicely everyone behaved.)  The trick is follow through.  If they KNOW you mean it, they KNOW you mean it! Children don't want to miss out on fun, and they hate knowing we are having it without them!  Just follow through.  The first time.  NO, 18 warnings.  Just 1.  You will be surprised how easily it pays off in the long run.

That's not the only threat I've made, but every threat has been followed through on.  No matter the cost or inconvenience to myself.

3.  This is the real, actual, big NEVER.  NEVER EVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE OR FOR ANY REASON lie to your child.

There's a lot of ways to handle this one.  When my son was 7 and asked me about how you make a baby, I didn't think he was ready yet.  I didn't lie.  I told him "I don't think you're quite old enough for that, but I promise that when you are 12 we are going to talk about that."  You see, when you keep ALL of your promises and you NEVER lie, they trust you.  My son believed that he was not ready and that I would tell him when he was 12.  I did tell him when he was 12.  I am also a big fan of saying "I'm not comfortable discussing that with you." and "That is a private matter for me and I really don't want to talk about it right now." The first time I said this was when my son asked if I loved his father (we had been separated for a few years and the answer was NO! But I did not think my son needed to take on that burden).  when he has asked me when I'll be able to talk about it, I tell him the truth "I don't know, but if I ever do, we will talk about it."

You see, there are ways to answer without answering, to be honest, to keep the door open.  That can't happen if they don't trust you.  It's all about trust.  If your child knows that the words you say are true, they will trust when you cannot say any words, they will have faith in you.  They will know you are all about them!

I think that's enough to be getting on with.  More later.

Prayers for Strangers, Because They Matter More

I am struggling, my friends.  This has been a hard time for our family and I am finding it harder at various times.  I am thinking social media is the end of anything actually social.  Today I am on FaceBook and I see a prayer request.  I always read those.  While I am not Judeo-Christian, I believe in the power of prayer/positive energy/karma.  Call it what you will.  I read them and I "pray".  This one was for a football player that I'm pretty sure my cousin has never met in his life.  I'm darn sure that this football player never snuck chocolates and oreos for my cousin or traipsed around the woods for hours finding animal skeletons or spent countless hours watching him play air guitar and lip syncing to The Police.  But my cousin is asking me to pray for this stranger.  And I will.

You see, here's my issue.  When I posted to ask for prayers for my family as my husband's mother was dying and then died of cancer, this same cousin did not share my post.  Why does a stranger football player rate higher than his own family?  This is what I'm seeing on FaceBook.  Share this post of a person you never met, but not your own family.  And heaven forbid we write our own posts about our own families.

It's so much easier to just "like" and "share" what someone else has spent the time writing and saying.  We need to be writing our own words.  This football player has 21, 198 likes and 1,188 comments, my request for prayers (and it was the first time I ever did that, so don't think I'm some kind of serial prayer hogger) received 14 likes and 11 comments.  Seems no one shared it either.  I am left wondering, what would all that positive energy have done for my mother-in-law or our family?

The next time you think the words of a stranger are worth sharing or liking, go back, scroll your page, maybe a friend or family member needs it too, share that as well.  Maybe you should help them.  I will pray for Jim Kelly tonight too, but maybe some of you could pray for my Mother-in-law on her new journey, her name was Roxie Lee Cole.  Or you could just pray for my family to find strength and courage at this time.  Or maybe you could just pray or meditate on healing, strength and courage for us all.

I know clicking "share" is easy and mindless.  The truly heroic act, in this day and age, seems to be actually mailing a card.  How sad is that?  In case you're wondering, no, a comment, share or like is not the same and means an awful lot less.  Oh, I know, I've just pissed a ton of "commenters", "likers" and "sharers" off.  Here's the truth.  My Mother-in-law died.  We were not that close.  I did not know her very long.  Some of my friends (mine, not my husbands) drove 2 hours to support us (me) at the funeral.  Those who could not, maybe they sent cards or picked up the phone and called.  You see, it's about making an effort.  As you go through your day realize, it's the people who make an effort for you that you should be spending your energy on.

I love my cousin, I miss my cousin.  I'm realizing that maybe we are not much anymore.  I'm realizing I've maybe lost more than a Mother-in-law and the brilliant smile she brought into the room.  I'm realizing if I want people in my life, I have to show them that they matter.  And when I do not matter in return, I must just say farewell.

Finally, do not ask others to participate in your life if you do not participate in theirs.  I promise to do better.  I will share the posts of others asking for help for their families and loved ones.  Perhaps we can all try harder and do better.  I know I can.

When You and Me Became We

The day I wanted to fly apart
and you went into the bathroom to fart
The day I felt the world would end
and you found some support to lend
The day my trainee made a play to usurp
and you let out a garlic filled burp
The day I had no laughter left
and you felt that it left you bereft
The day I wanted to sit and stew
and you told me about your big poo
The day I sat alone and all lost
and for it you happily paid a cost
The day I could not the sun to see
and you described your big long pee
The day I had not longer a meaning
and you loved me endless seeming
Each was the day that You and Me became We
and made a world without I can't see
My love, it's not the big or the little
but all the things I've found in the middle

It's Not All About YOU or ME

Wedding vows are not one sided.  This may seem like an obvious statement, but I don't really think so.  In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad, these are the statements that we agree to.  What they don't mean is that when I am on the harder side of those statements, sick, worse, poor, bad times, that I get to be a jerk and Brian has to put up with it.  It doesn't mean that only one of us has to be supportive at a time.  Right now, for example, we are dealing with the immediate loss of Brian's Mother who passed away on March 8th.  I need to be supportive and see to his needs and be as helpful as I can be.  I hope I'm doing a good job.  What I can say is that Brian is doing a fantastic job at understanding that this is also difficult and stressful for me.  He's been supportive and understanding when sometimes I falter at my post.  He asks how I am, if he can help.  He acknowledges what I am doing to help him, not just to me, but to others.  He cheers me on as I cheer him on.  You see, it's two sided.  We take turns.  It's not even, it shouldn't be, we have to take care of each other, at all times.

Often it seems to me that we forget that as we are struggling through a difficult issue or time, our loved ones are struggling just as hard watching our pain and sadness.  It takes a lot of energy and strength to put on a happy face when you are falling apart and we need to remember that it really never is "all about me".  Especially in a marriage.  No matter how hard things are for me, Brian is suffering too and I need to be sensitive to that as well.

There is no feeling worse than watching a loved one in pain and feeling helpless.  I am helpless right now.  There is nothing I can do to "fix" things as my Brian navigates through his grief.  I can only watch, listen and encourage.  Of course all I really want to do is wave some kind of wand and make him feel all better and make the world right and sunny for him, sadly, I am not that good of a witch.  This causes me pain.  It breaks my heart.  I think it gives him comfort to know I love him that very much.  I think that helps him.  I think it gives him a break from his pain to be able to turn his attention to my suffering and try to help me.  It's a sense of accomplishment.  His one wish would be to bring his Mother back, to never lose another loved one, but even Brian cannot PR his way into that.  At the very least, he can help me, and that is something to check off in the "things I can do" list.

So, as you are suffering through an issue, remember that your loved ones are suffering for you as well.  Be there in return, comfort them.  Compliment their hard work for you, share your pride and gratitude with others.  Make it public.  Let everyone know how lucky and appreciative you are.   In this way, you may just find that your suffering is alleviated somewhat, at a minimum, you will remember that you are not suffering alone.

And remember, you went into this marriage as a single person, you came out of it as a team.  You are not alone, but neither is your spouse.

Screw You, I Need My Husband!

It's 1:28am.  It's a "school night".  I don't want to go to bed.  My husband is not there, he's away right now, visiting his Mother in the hospital, trying to make head or tails of a world that is changing for him.  All I know is that I don't want to go to bed, I haven't wanted to go to be these past 4 nights, because he's not there.  I haven't told him this, I don't know if he finds reasons to stay up as I have.

What I do know is that when I go to bed, and he's there, I know that the day has ended just as I hoped it would, all is right.  Tonight, not so much.  He's not there.  I dread the empty that is his side of the bed.  I dread the cold this is the lack of his body heat.  I dread the comments about this.

I am a whole person.  I do not need my husband to have a complete life, but I want him in my life completely.

I'm so tired of editing myself for fear that some one is going to tell me I'm not an independent strong woman, that I feel I need a man to have a life.  Let me make this clear:  I do need my husband so that I can have a complete and happy life.  I need him because he shows me the possibilities I do not see. He is much of what is not in me, but what I hope to emulate.  He is my warmth, my stronghold, my faith.

I had all those things before I ever met Brian.  I spent 12 years as a single Mother and financial support for my son.  Life was great.  Brian has made the love in our lives greater.  I did not need a man to give me a reason to live, I had a son for that.  This man has given me reason to love myself in ways I did not know were there.  That is the best part of a good man, ladies, you get to see the value, worth and beauty of yourself that your own eyes were blind to.  (Note:  I said a GOOD man)

So, I have three things to say, choose the one you want.

For Married Women:  Never let someone tell you that you are less than a single woman because her life is harder, we all know that having a husband is no easy task, they take work.

For Single Women:  Never let someone tell you that you need to find a man to marry, you need to find a life to marry.

For All Women:  Revel in who you are and where you are in life.  Never let anyone tell you you are doing it wrong!

My Very Bestest Wishes To ALL To Find That Happy Healthy Life You Were Dreaming Of,
Richelle C. Ferree

It Starts With The Tongue

The best sex you will ever have begins with your tongue.  This is actually the most important organ in your body when it comes to sexual pleasure.  From the conversations I've had recently I am realizing that many people suffer from, what I call, "tight tongue".  You must begin by exercising your tongue, work it out, loosen it up.  How?  Speak.

Yeah, you thought this was going to get dirty, didn't you?  Well, there's hope yet.

I suppose we don't talk about sex much due to our puritanical heritage.  We're inundated with sex on T.V., in movies, magazines, everywhere, and yet we don't talk about it.  We look at it, think about it, fantasize, but we don't talk about it.  I find this to be so very confusing.  If we're going to surround ourselves with it, why not actually enjoy it?

I'm not sure why, but I seem to be the sounding board for a lot of "sex" conversations, especially lately.  I'm noticing a constant thread with them though.  It would seem like a lot of couples just don't talk to each other.  Why is this so very very difficult for us?  I figure this person has already seen you at your most intimate and vulnerable.  Over the course of your life, how many people have ever seen your orgasm face?  Less than more I would suppose.  If you've opened up this much, why not open up some more?  You've already let them in.  I really get shocked when the couple in question is married.  Here you've opened up to this person, clearly a sexual relationhip is involved and you've vowed to share your life with them, forsaking all others.  If you're going to give up all future sexual relations, seems a fair trade that you make the most of the one you have.  Dosen't it?

So why not talk, why not open up?  What's holding us back?  Embarrassment?  Of what?  That our spouse is not going to approve of our desires or share our fantasy?  Well, maybe not, but maybe.  It should be worth the risk.  There should be a level of trust developed at some point that makes it worth it.  I like to believe that my husband accepts who I am.  He may not have seen all sides of me yet, but I expect that as new parts of me open up he will accept them, love them, or open up a discussion.

So, I get that maybe I am far too hopeful on this subject.  People don't talk much and they certainly don't talk about sex, but I'm an optimist, what can I say?  Start small.  "I like this" "I don't like that".  You'd be surprised what you will learn.  Look, this isn't a sex help talk.  I'm not going to tell you what to do in bed or not do.

I'm going to tell you this:  In the very beginning of sexual life with my husband (then boyfriend, yes, I had premarital sex) used to do this thing.  Doesn't matter what that was, all that matters is he did it.  After a bit, one time, when he did it, I stopped him and said "I don't really like that".  After that night, outside of sex, I mentioned it again.  I was worried I was interfering with his pleasure/happiness.  Nope.  Turns out he didn't like it either, but thought that women did.  So I guess there was a woman who did at some point in his life.  (OK, so most men don't realize that all women are anatomically different and just because one likes it doesn't mean we all do or that you're hitting any kind of good "spot", pssst, hey girls, the same is true for them, they are all individuals).

You see, it doesn't matter how much "experience" you have,  it only matters what THIS experience is. Go make tonight the best experience ever.  Remember, exercise that tongue!  It's your most potent sexual tool!

NBC, you are not my favorite.

Every 4 years we send our very best to compete in the Olympic games.  Every 4 years I watch the opening ceremonies and as the cauldron is lit, I cry.  My biggest wish and hope is that some day I get to go to the Olympics as a spectator.  I admit, the winter games are my favorite, but I watch the summer games just as avidly.

The Olympic broadcast day has just ended.  Team USA took a gold and a bronze.  I am so proud.  So very proud.  These two young people have accomplished what I don't even dare to dream of.  They are dedicated, they push themselves, they work hard, they sacrifice.  They are the best of the best in the world.  How did NBC celebrate their triumph?  With an abbreviated gold medal ceremony and no showing of Hannah Kearney's ceremony at all.  NBC, you should be ashamed.  Where is your national spirit?  Where is your show of pride?  Sage Kotsenburg took the first gold of the games and you didn't even show him receiving his medal, just the anthem and the flag.  Hannah Kearney has ended her Olympic career, we will not see her again, and I didn't see her receive her medal today.

My heart swells with pride that Hannah Kearney and Sage Kotsenburg belong to us.  We should be proud, we should celebrate them, BOTH.  I have never been good enough at anything to go the Olympics let alone be considered in the top three of anything in the world, how many of us have?  Very Very few, we know this because we know their names.

This time, I'm asking you to share my blog.  Let's let our Team Members know we are proud.  We are proud that you have persevered and followed your dreams to this most auspicious event.  We are proud that you are there, whether you end up on the podium or not.  Gold, Silver, Bronze?  We are proud.  Make us proud by comporting yourselves with dignity and good sportsmanship.  Make us proud by showing the metal of our people.  You are there, we are not.  We are proud.

Maybe someday I will get to be there.  You will know when I am, you will hear me cheering you on, louder and longer than anyone else there because I love you that much and I am just that proud of you, just that in awe.

Go Team USA!!!!!!

Being Neighborly Sucks!

It didn't use to, but it does now, there are just so many damned rules!  Case in point:  I have a new neighbor moving in.  I think she is a single mother.  I've seen two little girls.  I was sitting there thinking about taking over a little something to welcome them to the neighborhood.  Maybe a cake, or some cookies, perhaps, oh wait, hmmm.  Little children, might have nut allergies, or gluten allergies, or milk allergies, or.....Crap, forget it.  I'll take a scented candle, sure, that's it.  Oh, wait, might have perfume allergies.  Ok, keep thinking, keep thinking.  Some balloons?  Latex, crap.  What the hell can you take to say hello and welcome that might not kill them, or minimally send one of them to the hospital?  This is ridiculous.  How are we supposed to put a hand?  I don't know.  At this point I'm thinking about taking them a goldfish!  Crap, they might have a cat.  I am seriously out of ideas.  I've spent hours thinking about this and haven't come up with anything safe.  How is this even possible?

Maybe I need to make a questionnaire first.  Let's see, something like this:

Dear New Neighbor,

I would like to bring you a welcome gift, please answer the following questions to ensure the gift is safe:

1.  Does anyone in your family have a food allergy?  YES    NO
     If yes, please write all food allergies here: ______________________________________________

2.  Does anyone in your family have any material allergies?  YES   NO
     If yes, please write all material allergies here: ___________________________________________

3.  Do you have any pets?  YES   NO
     If yes, please list all pets here:  _____________________________________________________

4.  Do either of your children have any fear of anything, clowns, cars, or tax returns?  YES   NO
     If yes, please list here:  ___________________________________________________________

5.  Is there anything I need to know before I purchase a welcome gift?  _________________________

Thank you for your time and I look forward to bringing you a housewarming gift that will not cause harm to you or your family.

Best Regards,
Your Neighbor

Leaving Behind the Fallen

As I sit here waiting for a former coworker to join me for dinner, I'm finding myself thinking back on many former coworkers.  I'm wondering where they are, did they get promoted, did they move on to a new company? What has happened to them? I'm wondering if dinner tonight will be a long discussion on our former joint work place or will we find that we thought we had a friendship to build on and we do! I'm also finding it amazing that I am more curious about former coworkers than high school classmates! Why is that?

For any former coworkers wondering what happened to me, the answer is, well, a lot! But who is that not true for over years? A lot. We've all had a lot.  Haven't we?   So, I'll stop writing for now.  She should be here soon and I'm sure you are desperate to know what kind of a visit it was!

The visit is ended.  I'm firmly ensconced in my home.  So, what kind of a visit was it?  It was a real visit.  I found that the friend I thought I had, I have.  There was more to us than work.  I realize that is not true for many of the people I left behind.  I'm sorry for them.  I'm sorry for her.  It was a terrible place to work.  I was not happy there though I had so very much hope when I started, we all did.

We had a great dinner.  We talked about family, children, significant others.  It was good. It was open.  It was sad.  It was open.  A lot has already happened to both of us in the short time I've been away.  I'm glad to know I really did make a friend and that I am taking her with me.  It was worth it then.  If nothing else, I left there with a real friend.

It got me thinking on others that are still in my life from other jobs.  I'm grateful for them.  They knew me at a time that is very different than where I am now, and still they are here.  I called them on my way home to let them know I am grateful.  I am grateful they are still here, that they opened their lives up to me, that they stayed in mine.  I am grateful for very much.

And then it hit me.  We go to work for a lot of reasons but we don't often think about the thing that matters the most.  We walk away, sometimes, with friends.  I sit here now typing this and in the dining room is my husband, my son and 3 of our friends.  One of these friends my husband made at a former workplace, and here he is, years later.  Next to him is his girlfriend, I claim her for mine (even though she is playing the dork game with them!), she is my friend now and I clearly get to maintain custody in the event of a divorce.  The third friend, he's the husband of one of my former coworkers.  I think my husband claims him as his now, though there would be a serious game of rock-paper-scissors at the divorce proceedings for custody.

The thing is this, we leave work for one reason or another.  We do that and think about our resumes and what we are putting on them.  We don't realize that sometimes we get so much more than we were ever thinking about or think about now.  Thank you former employers for the friends and husband I have.  No matter how I felt when I was with you, looking back, it was worth it.  I have so much more than you ever intended to give me.  

Where Did All This Gray Hair Come From?

Recently I went just a touch too long between colorings.  As the roots grew out, I was aghast.  Where did I get all this gray?  How did it creep up on me?  I had no idea it had gotten this bad.  It got me thinking.  Where does the color go?

My life has been filled with ups and down, happy and sad, grateful and disappointed.  None of it really seemed enough to make me so gray at 42 though.  So I started to look back.  I found the answer in dodgeball.

I loved dodgeball and I was really good at it.  Well, that's how I remember it.  But maybe I wasn't any good at it.  Maybe I didn't love it back then.  Maybe all the color in my hair has gone into recoloring my memories to make them better than they were.

Sacrificing the Many for the Few

I have struggled with this topic for many many years.  A little background.  My Mother is a key player in fighting for the rights of children with special education needs.  If you have a child with special needs, you can thank her.

Before my sister was hit by a car, the "special" kids rode on the short bus.  They all went to the same school.  My neighborhood had 5 elementary schools.  All the "special" kids went to one of them.  They put them in a room and they made sure nobody hurt anybody else or themselves.  It didn't matter if you had down's syndrome, were dyslexic, ADD wasn't invented then, maybe you had muscular dystrophy.  You were going in that room.  And you were staying in that room.  And you weren't going to accomplish anything.

And then a car hit my sister.  Nothing was ever the same.  I didn't see my Mother much after that.  For a long time she was in the hospital with my sister.  Then she was fighting the school, the district, the state and finally the federal government.  To help my sister.  To give her a chance.  An opportunity.  They said my sister would never walk again, but she did.  They said she would never run and play and grow like other children, but she did.  They said she couldn't learn like other kids, she would never finish high school.  The kid who would never grow got a soccer scholarship.  The kid who couldn't learn, well, we call her Dr. now.   It was a willpower thing.  Tell my baby sister she couldn't do something and she was going to damn well prove you wrong.  And she has.  Every "professional" who clicked their tongue, shook their head and told my Mother to not expect very much, how's it feel?  She did it.  You can call her Dr. now, she's got a PhD.  Screw you.

I'm proud of my sister.  She's accomplished far more than I have and I was the one they were betting on.  I can't do what she's done.  I don't have the will, or the strength.  Just potential that hasn't measured up to much.

What I do have is a son.  With special needs.

At first they told me he would not live to see 7.  Then they told me, well, he will live, but he will be blind one day.  (long back story on that!)  As my son is fond of saying "Blind?!  Big deal, I can handle that with my eyes closed!  It's not like I'm gonna die."  It's a thing with us now.  Blind we can handle, death is not an option.  (Thank you, Mr. William Goldman, we have learned from you well!)

He needed to start Braille lessons, walking with a cane, using a keyboard without a mouse.  It was going to be a very busy 2nd grade.  I went to my first IEP meeting knowing what I wanted and with a secret weapon.  My mother.  The child's rights advocate!

The meeting began, I laid out my wishes, I did not introduce my Mother.  She sat quietly, letting her daughter navigate the waters.  They politely declined my requests.  Why did he need Braille?  He is fully sighted, mobility, technology, surely not.  I persisted, they said no.  I pushed, they said no.  I got tired.  If I had been alone I would have given up.  Instead I introduced my Mother.  This is what happened:
Me:  Maybe it's time for an introduction.  This is my son's advocate (insert my Mother's name here).
The Principal's head went down.
The District's Special Ed Director's head went down.
The School's Special Ed Counselor said: "It's very nice to meet you..."  At this point the District's Special Ed Director put her hand on the school's counselor and said "Just say yes."

That was the end of opposition.  This is the power of my Mother's name.  If you are of a certain age group, you are afraid, if you are young, you are simply foolish.   You see, my son is not blind, but he MAY be.  I know from reading that people who lose their vision lose a minimum of a year of their life learning new skills.  I was not going to let my son go into the dark with no preparation.  He was not going to lose a year.  He would be as ready as possible.  My Mother's name made that happen.  They never knew he was also her Grandson.  They never knew anything.

As the meeting progressed things got out of hand.  This is what I wanted:
1.  My son to learn Braille, just in case
2.  My son to learn to use a cane, just in case
3.  My son to learn how to use technology unsighted, just in case

What they offered was all of this, in the mainstream.  Are you kidding me?  Do you know how loud a Braille writer is?  How is an instructor supposed to teach him while a teacher is teaching a whole class?

Ok, let me amend what I wanted.  I wanted 1, 2 and 3 and I didn't want them in a regular class.  He needed separate time to learn this.  He had no right to infringe on the other pupils learning and how was he supposed to learn to read Braille if he's supposed to learn how to do long division at the same time?  No.  This would not happen during class.

This was my first lesson.  Not every child should be in the mainstream.  Not when it means sacrificing the other 20 kids in the classroom.  (Firsthand experience here, remind me to tell you about being the class parent in a school with 31 kids in a first grade classroom.  Another blog, another day)

My lesson continued as we discussed Gym.  My son cannot play sports where there is a risk of a blow to the head.  (So much for my dreams of raising a pro hockey player but that's another blog to file away for another day too.)  The teaching team laid out a plan to redesign the class for his safety.  It was tempting.  I really didn't want him to be left out, to be put aside, to be....different.  But he is.  I loved dodge ball. Why should 20 other kids miss out because mine can't play?  No.  I put it on my 8 year old son.  He was there, at the meeting.  I asked him what he thought.  He said "I can't play that game.  But I can keep score."  We developed a system from then on.  The gym class played, and it was his job to find a way to participate.  And he did.  He never kept score.  He learned the rules and officiated football, soccer, baseball.  You name it, he was an awesome referee or ump!

You see, this is the thing, the world is not going to bend for my son.  He's going to have to find a way to navigate.  It's not right for his needs to cause everyone else to change.  He's the minority.  He's got to find a way in.  It hurts, I hate it.  I want him to be like everyone else.  But he's not.  And no matter how much I fight, he's not going to be.  I can't dumb everything down for him, because then I'm dumbing all the other children.  That's what the school offered me that day.  If he had had his Braille lessons in the mainstream it would have slowed everyone else up, don't believe me, try learning Braille, it's not easy!  And how is that fair to everyone else?  We talk about "being fair".  "Oh, it's not fair if this one or that one wins, they should just have fun!"  Yeah, try telling that to a manager as he's getting ready to fire you for nonperformance!  Or how about "children should not feel badly about themselves, we have to buck up everyone's confidence!"  Uh Huh, yeah, try that at your next evaluation when you're not mid to top performing!  Fair?  "Life isn't fair, Bill.  We tell our children that it is, but it's a terrible thing to do.  It's not only a lie, it's a cruel lie.  Life is not fair, and it never has been, and it's never going to be."  or, if you don't prefer the literary  "Life isn't fair and anybody who says differently is selling something."  (Thank you,  Mr. William Goldman, wish I had a Miss Roginski or an Edith Neisser, at a minimum I had you and the flu and a Daddy who loved your book!)  Point is, life is not fair, better get your child ready for it.

And I'm not always going to be here.  I don't know when that's going to happen, but if I don't teach him to navigate for himself, what will he do without me?  I want to be here for a very long time, but we get no guarantees.  You see, I'm not raising a child.  I'm raising an adult.

Forgive Me, I Have Too Much

We had a  lovely evening.  Dinner with our cousins, the food was delicious.  I only hope they really enjoyed the lemon meringue pie I made, but who knows, people are polite.

All day I knew I was running out of cigarettes.  I went to the store twice.  I racked up some serious bargains for the little girls in our family both times for christmas next year, but I didn't buy cigarettes.  I didn't know why I slacked off, until late tonight.

On our way home from a great dinner I reminded my oh-so-grumpy spouse that we needed to stop off on our way home.  It was midnight and he has to work tomorrow and he's tired, I can't blame him.  (Note to self, open the vent in the office since he's working from home tomorrow so he'll have a warm office.  Ok.  Done.)  And so we did, at the same Get-Go we always go to.  I went in.  There was a young man behind the counter, Brandon.  I made small talk, as I always do.  It was -5 below zero when I went in.  Tomorrow morning it will be between -9 and -11.  Here is the conversation:

Me:  It sure is cold out there.
Brandon: Yes it is
Me:  When do you get off?
Brandon: 6am
Me: I hope you have a hat and gloves
Brandon: I don't, but I'm more worried about the homeless Vet who lives in our parking lot.
Me:  What do mean?  He lives here?
Brandon:  Yes, he lives in the white station wagon.  He comes in for coffee every day.  He lives in his car.  I'm really worried about him in this weather.
Me:  I'll be back.

I paid for my cigarettes.  I came home.  I grabbed a blanket, hats, gloves, scarves, some cash (about 5 bucks) I had in my purse and an old Get-Go gift card that probably had about 3.00 on it.  I drove back.  I gave Brandon a brand new Scarf and Glove set that's been sitting in my closet for about 2 years.

Brandon: Is this for me?
Me: Yes.  I have other things for the man in the car, show me where he is.
Brandon:  (As he points to a remote part of the parking lot) He's right there.  Is this really for me?
Me:  Yes.  You stay warm in the morning.

I left the store and drove to the car he pointed out.  I knocked on the door and a man opened it.

Me:  This is for you, keep warm.
The Vet:  If people keep giving me things there won't be room for me!
Me:  I don't care about that.  I care that you're here tomorrow.
The Vet:  Thank you
Me:  You're welcome, and here (as I gave him the money) you get some breakfast in the morning.
The Vet:  Thank you!  I will!

I drove back to the Get-Go.

I wanted to do 2 things.  1.  I wanted to thank Brandon for the opportunity to help someone.  (when I went in, Brandon was already wearing the scarf I gave him tied around his neck.)  And 2.  I wanted to fill out a comment card.  I know that this is how people working at the Get-Gos and Giant Eagles get recognition.  No comments, no recognition.

I talked to Brandon.  I told him I was grateful that he let me know about the Vet so I could help.  Brandon just kept thanking me for the scarf and gloves and telling me how worried he was about the Vet.  How the Vet is wearing sandals and is a size 9 and how he's sneaking some shoes from his dad tomorrow because his dad is a size 9.  How he's worried about that Vet, he's told a couple of customers about him, but he doesn't know if anyone is helping him.  I turned the conversation to Brandon.   He told me about his niece Buffy and his nephew Chance that he is helping to raise.  He showed me their pictures, cute little toddlers.  For a moment we were two people just sharing.  It was beautiful.  I am grateful.  I am grateful that I could do something kind for two people.  I am grateful that I shared something with them.  I am grateful that as I go to sleep tonight I will be praying for two people that maybe need some help.  But I am truly grateful that when Brandon and I were almost done talking this is the conversation:

Me:  Brandon, I know it's hard for you.  Sometimes you do so much and wonder "When is it my turn"
Brandon: (interrupting and pulling on the scarf I gave him)  This is my turn.  Sometimes people don't realize it's the little things that make a person feel big.  Thank you.

And all I'm left with is:  Thank Brandon.  That was a big thing you did for me.  You reminded me that people can be beautiful.

Please, go out into the world, my friends, and be beautiful.