Is this the end?

I did not start out writing these posts as a means to entertain anyone in particular, or, in general for that matter. But, so it would seem, any one thing that begins as "introspective," evolves into something else, something "bigger" and, by virtue of its size, it reaches out to many, whether that was its intention or not.

I love this blog and I have enjoyed sharing my thoughts and feelings with all of you about too many topics to consider just now. But, I think that it is time for a new chapter, both literally and figuratively. And so, this is my last entry on this site. I have decided to compile many of these entries, along with a whole new "slew" of my rather disquieting thoughts into a book. I will, most likely, publish it as an ebook first and then I will begin to sort through the process of putting it all together as a bigger project. I am also going to include some material that I did not want to publish here on the internet as a blog "post," some material that requires a different kind of formatting. In addition, when I do publish the ebook and it begins to sell, and I am assured that it will (we don't need to go there), please know that I will always, indefinitely, donate a portion of any money made to one of my favorite non-profit groups, those who work toward a cure, toward understanding, toward eliminating hunger and thirst, toward deepening my love and respect for humankind.

Lately, in the news, there have been stories of extreme violence, despair and, of personal heartbreak. While I would like to comment on all of these individually and as a whole, I think that these issues are also best addressed in a different format, perhaps for a more selective audience. I would like to say though that, as a person, I try very hard to look at each person as an individual, rather than as part of a group. And, there are a lot of abhorrent, disturbed and cruel individuals in our society; some stand on the street corner, some stand in an office or as the leader of a group and some stand in the House and in the Senate. I try very hard not to let this sway my overall opinion of the human race and how much good there still is and can be. I try, and, like you, sometimes I fail and I cry out for vengeance and sacrifice. I have to remind myself of the good because without it, what is the point of going on? Without good, there is no hope and to live a hopeless life, well, just look around you, people do it every day. I don't want to live that way and I don't want my children to have to either.

Thank you for your kind comments and your generosity in all of the endeavors that I have, sometimes rather ungraciously, wrapped you in; you seemed to accept this facet of my personality as an "that's just the way she is" fact. Thank you for taking the time to read these posts and for allowing me a place to vent and cry and laugh, albeit virtually... Thank you for asking for more, and if you continue to do so, I will write more and I will let you know when and where. If you are reading this for the first time or, if you have been reading this blog and haven't joined, please click Join so that I can forward you a new URL and/or the title of the book when it is finished. If not, no harm either way. Almost 5 years of entries and, it is time to change direction...

Take care of one another, of the environment, of children, of animals, of yourselves. Be kind when warranted and, if need be, tell people to "Go to Hell" or "Fuck off" whichever one of those is more appropriate. I have made many mistakes and I will continue to do so and, above all, I sincerely hope that you are along with me for the rest of the ride as I do.

Be honest, sincere, have integrity and for Fuck's sake... READ more! That is for you Mr. Bell...

All my love for a good year for us all.

This last entry is dedicated to two very important people; the first is a woman who probably doesn't know how much of an influence she had on me when I was growing up. I think of her every day and pray for her health. Jessica Comeaux Burden, one of the loveliest human beings ever to walk this earth - I love you very much. And, the second is a man who won't read this, but who knows, who has always known how much I respect and love him because he is one of the most kind, gentle and warm people I have ever had the privilege to know, my father in law, Thomas Hawley. I admire and love him more than I can say.

Be well. Hope to see you soon...

Yvette Hawley
El Camino College

Maybe it's time...

That sentence starter sums up the story of my life.  Maybe it's time to... go to the gym, learn to cook, walk the dog, read to the maniac, stop fucking around and do something that pushes me outside of the comfort zone in which I find myself treading imaginary life threatening quells these days.  The comfort zone is a concrete refrigerator box that forces me to move quickly in a space that simultaneously forces me to curl up into myself.  I suppose it would be like being dropped into a well that held just enough water to consistently place pressure on my chest, forcing me to be still but at times to breathe heavily as I tried to figure a way out.  Or maybe, I can't get out and it's time to let someone reach in and extend a hand to help me...

I'm not good at asking for help and because of that fact, I fuck things up on a regular basis.  I forget important documents, I lose things, I type in the wrong codes and sign up for subscriptions or Survey Monkey jobs that I never wanted.  I give out my personal information freely on the internet, blindly trusting anyone who is smart enough to figure out that I use the same password on every single sight I enter.  I'm not giving anything away by disclosing that; I'm just confirming what the hackers, who, incidentally, are cracking up as they stare at my bank account, my blood test results or my bills that continue to rot in collection, already know.  I don't like to ask for help for the same reason that I like to give help - I want to decide what and who and how and when.  I want to dictate what happens and I don't like, never have, anybody, ever, telling me what to do.  Some people might think that means that I have a big ego or some people might think that I am conceited, but the truth is, I couldn't survive in a world - a job, a marriage, a friendship where someone was constantly ordering me around.  On some level, to me, asking for help is deferring to the "higher" up, admitting that I cannot do it all myself and, really, admitting defeat.  I am a good sport, but I also don't like to lose.  I never set out to tell myself that it's okay to come in second place.  If I do, well, that's ok, but I don't have to like it.

Along the same line of thinking is the notion of sexism and sexist behavior that I have experienced over the years.  It has made me rely more on my female counterparts than on my male counterparts, although I have many male friends and influences, but I think I have deep scars when it comes to the notion that I feel as though I am forced into a position where I have to defend myself, just because I am a woman.  The interesting notion about that claim is that people have told me that I just "thought that it was said like that" or, I just "heard it wrong." But, I can name dozens of instances where my knowledge, my background, my experience, my opinions have been questioned by people, who I guarantee, would  never have questioned me if I were a man.  Maybe it's the field of higher education; maybe some students just think that being a professor or an administrator is a man's job, which is completely asinine when one considers that claim, but nonetheless, I am speaking in terms of a gray area in which I have often found myself, not in absolutes of black and white.  Having this perspective has also given me extreme compassion toward others.  I know that my love and desire to help people comes from the same place where I hold in my frustration and tinges of sadness when I feel as though I am challenged or unappreciated, to put it mildly.  That same place has opened up my mind and heart to people, places, events and experiences that I would have never known had I limited my responses to "Yes Sir" or "Well, you have a point." Interestingly, I am talking about students, family members and people in the community.  I see it everyday.  I have experienced it everyday.  I try to help others find a way away from it everyday, just like I try to move away from it.

Maybe it's much more than just being a woman or, maybe that has nothing to do with it at all. Maybe it's just the way I was raised or my own insecurities or maybe I just continue to let people take advantage of me because despite my bravado at times, I am nothing but a big sensitive crybaby most of the time; well, not most of the time.  If you irritate me or piss me off, that sappy bitch gets thrown back down the well and Ninja Mom/Teacher/Friend/Righter of Social Injustices takes over. Might make for an interesting Halloween costume next year.

Maybe it's time to recognize that some people don't change, regardless of how much you want them to or how much you thought that they loved you.  It might be time to ask yourself how much of a "beating" you are willing to take before you put a stop to it.  Maybe it's time to really digest the idea that life is not a blue ribbon in the spelling bee or the homecoming queen crown being placed on your head; those are just merely moments, instead, life is a bloody knee that gets infected or a round of chemotherapy that leaves you ravaged and blindly incapacitated.  Maybe life is both a first kiss and a child left abandoned on the side of the road, a set of swings occupied by two elementary school children who are flying and laughing so hard that one doesn't hear the sound of the chain as it snaps and she is catapulted through the air instantly splayed across the blacktop, while the other one continues to swing.  Maybe it's violence and peace, love and hate and maybe, we aren't supposed to have too much control over one or the other because if we did, then what would be the point of failing, of falling, of developing a true self-awareness.

A student challenged my authority last night; he refused to hear what I was saying and his blatant disregard for my perspective was both disrespectful and infuriating.  It has been said many times, in film, in literature, in politics, in economics, in education, the sentiment, to the effect, that, in order to appreciate your own freedom, in this case of speech, one has to be able to stand in a room with the one person whose ideas boil his blood down to the core and he not only has to stand, but he has to allow that other person the time and the space to express himself freely.  When and if we can do that, then we have earned the right to appreciate what it means to have the freedom of speech.  Clearly it doesn't apply if you only ever surround yourself with those with whom you agree, or, with those who would rather insult you than listen to your words.  I can tolerate a lot of things, as do others on a daily basis around the world, but, if I, and I do, as a regular practice, exercise restraint and fairness, a willingness to listen to all points of view then by everything that is important to me, I deserve the same in return.  Last night, I didn't feel that way.  I tried very hard not to lose my temper nor to lower myself to a level of argument that would have made any critical thinking teacher wince.  I just simply reached a point where I could no longer try to have a conversation with this student because, from the start, he was only hearing himself.  It felt, at the end, like I was speaking to a dog in dog obedience training; I had given up on any kind of reasonable explanation and instead, had to resort to simple, monosyllabic words like "No" and "Fine." I have to admit that it has been awhile since I have felt like that.  Oh sure, every semester there are moments of difficulty and challenges that I would rather avoid, but usually students are respectful because they feel respected in my classes.  I'm still sarcastic, I'm still a bitch and sometimes I still go full tilt, 100 mph, but, I try to see "it" from their points of view and I expect the same in return.  If I treat them like my future colleagues, most of them stand up a little taller and accept that challenge, even offering me insight into things that I had missed or had forgotten.  They return that treatment in kind, most of the time.  Last night was the exception and it left me bitter and angry and a little sad so that by the time that I returned home, I was someone different than I was earlier in the day.  I had trouble sleeping last night and today I've been lethargic and less than amiable.  Maybe it's time to let it go...

Or maybe it's time to step up and ask myself if it's worth it.  If I only had a handful of years left, what would I do with them?  Give them away to students like the one last night?  Even for a few precious minutes, or, would I... will I, consider that, for every single choice that I make, in every day for however long I am fortunate enough to live this life, remember that my life has both purpose and a purpose.  Through experiences like last night and others that are positive and negative, I keep moving toward my final destination, where, on a day, I will stand and defend myself and the choices that I've made in this life.  I ask myself that question, that I know one day God will ask of me, "Why...?" and maybe it will have been about how I treated people, or if I were kind or if I tithed and volunteered enough, or maybe, it will only be "Why were you so hard on yourself?" While that's highly doubtful, it's a nice thought.

Maybe it's time, at 45, to realize that the climb itself is ending.  There may be a few hills left here and there, but the peak is beneath me now instead of ahead of me, and as I begin my descent, however quickly or slowly, I will try to remind myself that my life is bigger than just me.  My life is that refrigerator box ripped wide open by children and rain and wind and creativity and love, most of all by love.  My life is made of up of so many pieces, so many colors; I just wish that I took the time to appreciate all of people and experiences that comprise it.  I wish that so many things were different in the world, but I also wish that things would stay just as they are, with my three boys sleeping soundly in their beds, safe from harm, here at home, no one else involved, just the five of us, and the pug...

Maybe it's time to plan the trip down the slope, to set a few more big goals and a lot of little ones.  Maybe it's time to reinvent the wheel of my life a few more times before I'm done.  And maybe that student who threw me into a mini rage last night will someday realize that his life was and is more than asking for a grade that he didn't deserve.  But, truthfully, I really doubt that... and, if by chance, he runs past me on my climb down, I'm going to trip that mother fucker and send him sprawling flat on his face.  I was getting just a little too pensive there for my taste, but, man do I feel better... 

Maybe it's time for a margarita...

Angst, Anxiety and Attitude...

I should have entitled this with the precursor "Teenage" given that two of the three offspring are now of the age that conspicuously ends in "teen." However, any opportunity to lessen their already significant hold on my life is welcomed at this point.  Their lives, their struggles, their flippant comments and insensitive remarks have become the very ground on which I tread.  I try to squash that faint voice that floats through my mind, but every so often I hear it nonetheless "I told you so." I know Mom, I know.  What she really meant to say was "You'll get yours someday you little bitch" and, alas, someday has arrived full force...

I would say that this behavior, this manner of speaking, this sense of entitlement doesn't have anything to do with the youngest, the angel, the baby, the Ty, yet, sadly, it does.  Somehow coming into his own at 8 years old, he seems to be under the impression that he not only has a voice but that what he says matters?!  Ok, ok, what he says matters, but you and I both know that I'm talking about the hierarchy that exists within the family unit, much like it does in the military, everyone has a rank and no one is supposed to break that rank or lives may be lost.  "Do so at your own peril!" I may shout as Ty is poised to hurl that handful of blue playdoh at the ceiling above the very bed where I sleep.  Before he wouldn't have hesitated, he would have immediately bowed his head, apologized and marched that gelatinous blob of soft chemicals back to the cylinder from which it came.  Now, however, lately, however, there is a distinct hesitation... the other day he brought home an orange balloon that was filled with pieces of rice.  They had used funnels and it changed shape and it was "Awesome Mom, watch!" and yet as his arm went into the windup, I found myself wanting to hold back, thinking that he would hesitate or look at me to confirm that what he was about to do was not only ridiculous, but it would inevitably piss me off to no end.  That thought alone used to keep all three of them from attempting behavior that would fall into the "Set Mom Off" category.  But, his arm didn't even waver, not a flinch... and as that orange melon was set in flight across the living room, I was already moving toward the kitchen, knowing that I would have to get the broom.  I turned just in time to see a flash of orange collide into the South wall, exploding on impact.  I waited and looked at my son, that sweet faced little boy who I had to leave in the hospital for two weeks after he was born.  I looked into those cerulean eyes that clearly come from some previous relatives and I hoped that just for a second that I would see some remorse, some flash of that guilt that pervaded every sense of my childhood.  I looked, but, there was nothing, nothing but pure elation, bent over double laughter and the sounds of a human being who may recognize that he may or may not have broken a cardinal rule of balloon/rice/house accord, but who just doesn't give a shit.  In that moment, that little boy did exactly what he wanted and he loved every second of it.  I sighed and went to get the broom....

I don't worry about a lot nor do I spend an inordinate amount of time caring about things that might drive other people insane.  I laugh at the dumbass things that my kids do and say and I make fun of them, just like any quality parent would... but this sense that I get as of late, is that I have turned into or am slowly becoming some kind of sadistic hall monitor that does nothing but nag them and tell them to brush their teeth for the fourteenth thousandth time and when they fail to comply, or when they feel that I am being "unfair" or "overprotective" or "overbearing" that they somehow have the right to question MY behavior.  Now, as a parent who has expectations and who sets the bar low in some areas but rather high in the areas of character development, manners and selflessness, I expect all three of those little fuckers to listen to me.  Plain and simple.  Shut the hell up and listen when I'm speaking and don't give me that face or that tone in your voice that tells me that you THINK that I am this or that or this or that.  As we always say, YOU did not come with a manual and even if you did, you probably would have peed on it or set fire to it by now anyway...

Clearly I recognize that someday my boys will understand what I was trying to do and maybe they will even acknowledge the ways in which I was trying to do it, but whether or not that day comes, I have been, as of late, frustrated by their attitudes and their lack of enthusiasm over my desire for them to become more than hunched over, media neanderthals.  I tell Jake to put the phone away while we are eating dinner and he looks at me like I'm some kind of delusional inmate at an asylum.  "You want ME to put away my phone?" Yes Jackass, although I wanted to talk to you and now I don't, I still want you to put away that phone.  Actually, you know where you can put your phone... My special "favorite" is when he says "Mom, look around, everyone else is on their phone." Pause for reaction and no, I don't use the whole "Well if everyone jumped off a bridge thing..." I just simply say, "I'm not their mother" right before he mutters "Lucky them."  Or, any time I offer even the slightest criticism, he shuts down and just gives one word answers as if to say "How dare you insult me or try to teach me anything?  I am 17, I am a God, I am beyond reproach." Actually, Jake wouldn't use a word like reproach but it looked good and I think that sometimes.  Half an hour later he's asking me for money or for advice about some new obsession that he has.  Look, either you value my opinion or you don't, but don't ask me if you don't want me to tell you.  The other day he was gone almost the entire day; I only saw him when he came home and I was getting ready for bed so like the "idiot" mother that I am, I asked him questions about his day.  He gave me two short answers and then started to roll his eyes and he just said "I'm tired Mom."  I got irritated and he said "Mom, did you really want to talk to YOUR parents that much when you were my age?"  I hadn't actually thought about that, but I had to admit, he was right.  I didn't.  I didn't like that answer but I understood it.  The thing was, that response hurt the most because I thought that we had a different kind of relationship than I had with my parents and until last Spring, I thought that it would always be that way.  I love Jake so very much and I respect him and I am very thankful for who he is becoming and I accept that much of this is just his way of beginning to pull away; I know that and I accept that.  But, what I don't accept is his brazen sense of self entitlement and his attitude as of late, the one that says "You owe me something for being a good kid."  I'll tell you what Jake, you know what I owe you?  I owe you a swift kick in the ass and a see you at Thanksgiving next June when I throw your ass out the door.  Jake is a good kid with a big heart, but he lives in Jakeland right now where he is the Mayor, the Police Department and every resident all by himself and that self-centered, egocentric attitude, albeit normal for most teenagers, bothers the hell out of me when it rears its ugly head right after he has pulled some completely bonehead move or failed a test or backed into a parked car.  People see what they want to see when they look at him and that is, he is a good looking, well mannered, kind young man, which he is.  But what they don't see is the evil puppeteer behind the curtain and that bastard likes to fuck with me right now...

There is a seminar on anxiety in adolescents and teens next week at Ty's school and while I would like to attend, I don't think that I can handle much more anxiety in our home even if it is only as a topic along with ways to manage and combat it.  Because then I would have to confront my own demons once again and I am not in the mood to do that.  I have more than enough emotions and issues to deal with right now.  But I started thinking about anxiety when I got the flyer in the mail and I realized that while I don't suffer from this particular state, that two of my children do, in various ways.  Both have moments when it overtakes them and when I can literally see their faces paralyzed with sadness or fear or anger because the thought of having to do something or be somewhere or in those moments when they feel completely overwhelmed by their emotions, I can feel it.  I can feel their hearts beat faster and their palms start to sweat; sometimes they stutter their words or their voices get softer and I pause and I think to myself, God how awful.  Because most of do what any parent would do, we tell them to get in the car, or try again or do it anyway or everything will be okay, you'll see.  But the thing is, that kid knows deep down that sometimes, it's not only NOT going to be okay, but that it is going to be horrible.  I often send them out into the water without knowing how to swim, but I don't know any other way... and so I consult experts, books, therapists, talk shows, research materials, colleagues, the kids themselves and I try to come to some kind of agreement with anxiety, with their anxiety; mainly, that when I recognize the symptoms that I won't push so hard - this often ends up as one big disaster.  I try to remember that I was once little and that I was shy and scared, often feeling alone and guilty about something.  That doesn't usually help the situation with the kids and I can feel my own heart start to beat faster, but what it does do is remind me that I don't know any better way to handle their fears than they do; I can only offer them solace and comfort and love and hope that is enough.  And when it's not, Baskin Robbins and a day off from school usually do the trick...

Being a mother is a thankless job.  It is an unending hill climb where there is nothing at the top but reminders of how many times you've fallen along the way or how long it took you to get there. Erma Bombeck nailed it all those years ago; she wrote of the disasters of parenthood, of family; she wrote of the ridiculous statements and the endless stream of chatter that pervaded her skull and house.  She wrote of the humor in even the most humorless of situations, and, she had it exactly right.  Being a parent is wonderful and we live for those moments when our children recognize how much we truly love them.  It is a difficult transition for us to no longer be the center of their individual universe.  And it is even harder because often it happens so quickly; their adoration and friendship, their love and desire to be with us lessens and the moments that once flooded our days have become fewer and shorter and the interim is riddled with scornful looks and resentment and attitude.  They think that we should know better, just like we think of them, but the real thing is, we need them as much as they need us and, for me, there is no law that says that I have to stop being a positive and important influence in my children's lives; I just have to now learn how to respect the boundaries that they are fighting to set up.  Ironic once more, if I have taught them well enough then they won't need me... should I stop the lessons now?

It's interesting when a child describes himself as "selfish." Albeit, a negative meaning, it was explained to me as "being interested in only what I have to do because I can't keep track of everyone else." Not quite the dictionary definition, but more of an introspective and broader definition of selfish.  I like that definition, not because it fits teenagers, but because it actually shows a real truth about human behavior during the teenage years.  The angst or anxiety that they feel these days stems from a very wide, very intricate net of information that binds them all together, but only superficially.  How can one be expected to keep up with EVERYONE and EVERYTHING else on a day to day basis.  We would all go crazy, we would all develop anxiety, as many of us are doing now.  The pressure to be involved at multiple levels with hundreds of people and their activities on a daily basis is too much pressure.  And eventually the pressure crushes us, one way or another;it destroys the fragile nature of that first shape, of that first idea.  People cannot exist positively, hopefully in a world that demands a commitment level from even the youngest of its citizens, a level that ties them into everyone else's world, whether they want that or not.  And if they don't make an attempt to be a part of this network of individuals and photostreams and pages, then they are ostracized, ridiculed, bullied and, really, just plain on the "outside" of it all. And being on the outside of an inside "joke" will only create more angst.  And so, you focus on yourself and those within your immediate circles and you hope that the ones that you truly care about will return those feelings.  And if not, you have to figure out a way to reconcile the fact that you will never be able to keep up with it all, not physically, mentally and certainly not emotionally.  Selfish... loving one's self, taking care of one's self and not worrying about what everyone else is doing minute by minute... I like that.

It's my fault for the most part; the things that I bitch about, particularly with the kids, it's my fault.  I mean, I am raising them, well, Tim is here too, but let's face it, I do most of the "kick 'em in the balls" parenting.  Just because he is the voice of reason doesn't give him extra points.  Well really it does and that is another issue that I have; the kids seem to respect him more, like him more, listen to him more because he gets to be "good" cop and I, I have to be the "Did you brush your teeth, do your homework, pack your lunch, call that coach back, get your cleats, bring your water bottle... overbearing, schedule oriented crazy ass bitch of a mom."  That too pisses me off. I'm not insecure enough to sit here and to think that my children don't love me, they do or that they don't respect me, they do or that they are terrible, rotten morons who can't tell their asses from their elbows sometimes... well... ok, they aren't, MOST of the time.  Parenting is the most frustrating and simultaneously exhilarating jobs that I've ever taken on and while I am knee deep in the good and the bad and the days are filled to the brim, I can see myself, just a few years from now, longing for someone to lecture, for someone to clean up after, for someone to patronize me for a change.

It's not that we aren't ready to let them go out into the world or even that we want to delay that inevitable trip; it's just that we know that once they go, we just won't matter as much as we once did.  We will always be loved and thought upon with kindness but, on some level, they are already pushing us aside to make more and more room for others in their lives who will occupy that daily space that we once filled, those arms that once reached out for us when we picked them up from preschool, that new life that they are carving out for themselves, regardless of the fact that we helped to set them on that path.  I try to remind myself that it is coming quickly and that I am looking forward to all of the joys that they will have in their lives, but, I am also fearful for them, of what is in store and of what may come.  I only hope that when each of them, in turn, steps out the front door of our home as a resident for the last time that I will have prepared them to handle the angst and the anxiety and to not have too much attitude with others.  I will hope that and I will probably smile whenever I think of the aborted ceiling playdoh attempt or the time that they spray painted green stripes on the dog.  I just wish some days there were less eye rolls and sighs, less censure in their voices and instead, more days like the ones when they ran to me in their feeted Carter jammies, holding out their arms, kissing my cheek until I laughed so hard that we would fall to the ground.

I'm tired of the teenage crap.  I'm ready for a new chapter.  Luckily Ty has 5 more years before he hits the "teen" age.  Then again, with this crowd, it may be sooner than I'm ready.  In fact, I know it will be.  I can feel my blood pressure rising already...

Break it down...

I suppose, in more ways than one, that I have to accept the simple fact that just because one can do something doesn't mean that one can effectively teach someone else how to do it.  Most of the time I think that if someone excels at a particular skill then it should be rather simple to pass those ideas and, by virtue of those, the inherent skills that come along with it, but, WRONG.  It's a very basic thing to explain something to someone - an idea, a concept, directions, but to actually break the information down, in a way that the "student" can understand it and then, to check for understanding, only to realize that it's not there and then the whole process has to start all over, but in a different way, you know, it's exhausting because the teaching and the learning never really find an end.  They just continue to roll over one another until you've either gathered so much useless information that you have nothing else to say about a subject or until you lose interest in what you're doing to the point where you just go "Fuck it" "Moving on."  I guess it just comes down to the type of teacher that you are or the type of personality you have, or both really.

I try to imagine the base necessity of a student who doesn't understand something the first ten times that I try to teach it. I figure if I can reach that particular student, then I'm going to reach those who get it one the first, second and so forth tries, up to ten and for those who need even more than ten tries, I offer up other ways in which they can explore the material. For those who get it on the first pass through, well, they have a whole lot more autonomy over where they are headed in the following few weeks and they can work accordingly.  To me, teaching a college class is inherently easier in a lot of ways than it is trying to go over Linear Regression in Algebra with Nick or teaching units of measurement to Ty.  I have to account for how they learn as much as what they are learning.  I have to do that in my classes too, but those students are grown (well, we like to think that their brains have fully developed - most of them have) and that we don't have to spend as much time on the social/emotional development of them since they are already "adults" so to speak.  A child, even a teenager, requires a framing of the information in such a way that it speaks to them on THAT day, in that moment.  I've seen my own kids struggle to comprehend a concept as they are hunched over their homework like decomposing zombies, grunting from time to time, asking for sustenance to get them through the hard times.  But, I tell them to go to bed and get up in the morning or leave it until the next night and, given who and how they are the next day, BAM, they get it.  I think we should all and would all do best to remember that.  After all, we are all teachers on the most basic level...

I spent a handful of hours doing research today on Special Education Law and the more I read, the more I wanted to read. Now that probably wasn't the case when I was in college and I had to forcibly read something that I wasn't in the mood for or that I didn't think applied to me like Homer or Aristotle.  But now, the tasks that I set out for myself in regards to learning are all things that I WANT or need to learn because they are personally relevant and interesting and helpful.  Although my students may not yet see that, I hope that they will begin to understand that there is purpose behind everything that we do, but because they didn't choose it per se, they can't always see the point.  

I think it's so important to validate and to support the idea that learning is a daily, ongoing process and just because you don't go to "school" or "work" at a job outside of the home, that learning isn't taking place.  Students have such a rich and extensive knowledge about so many different things that I can't help but wonder that if they had the chance to plot their own curriculum in each subject, if they wouldn't be even more successful than ever before. Of course, some of them wouldn't - they would just assign "A's" to themselves and to everyone else and that would be the end of it.  But most of them would get it I think.  Most of them would look at the material and really attempt to master it.  Critical thinking, after all, requires that innate level of thinking about your thinking.  

I remember sometimes staring in the mirror at my reflection while brushing my teeth or putting on makeup (who has time or wants to do that anymore), and kind of thinking to myself that I didn't even recognize my face, that it looked strange to me, foreign... it was as if I were looking into someone else's eyes, considering, evaluating.  I like to think that students do the same, particularly writing students, particularly my writing students. I don't know, maybe I should just give them all "A's." I'd have a lot more free time anyway...Going to sleep now.

Say Cheese!

This one is a rant; a diatribe against the incessant "posing" that is happening constantly and seemingly, everywhere I go.  I am caught amidst groups of people who, at any moment's notice, stop what they are doing, right in the middle of doing it so that they can pose for a picture of what they are doing?!?  Now, logic was not my "best" subject in school, so if someone could offer a quasi-logical explanation for this behavior, I would be willing to at least listen.  Parents and teenagers seem to be the WORST offenders ever; I have literally seen parents stop the play of their children, in the middle of a joyous, rambunctious endeavor, only to have them pose, imitating the very scene that they were just engaged in so that they can take a photo of it??? I see children turn and instantly fake smile the second that the parent calls out a name or says "Smile" because they have been trained to do so;  they stop, turn, smile, throw their arms around one another, wait for the "Ok, I got it" comment and then they turn back to what they are doing?  I've also seen teenagers stop in the middle of an activity so that they can run to get their phones, invariably to document the moment that they have stopped living so that they can go get their phones to document it???? And, it's not just one photo or one Selfie or whatever the fuck those narcissistic, perfectly angled self portraits are called in this instant; it's like a photo montage of the memory as it is occurring; now all it needs is a freaking soundtrack to go along with it.

Where do I begin to explain what is wrong with people who stop living so that they can show others how they live?  This is in fact a huge problem that I continue to have with things like Facebook.  I don't have Instagram or Twitter or Snapchat or "Look at me I'm an attention whore.com" page, but because I do use Facebook and because I like that I can stay connected with many people who I probably wouldn't otherwise, I can't completely shut that one down.  But what I can say is that, when people post photos incessantly of other people "mid" living their lives, there is something stagnant about the entire situation.  The life has just been taken out of the live moment.  "Wait, hold still..." yes, but, how do you know what would have happened next had you not forced them to stop and pose?  This  "lifus interruptus" has created a whole new sense of "self" or lack thereof.  I really hope to God that people aren't taking selfies and using their instagram page during truly meaningful moments like having sex... I'm not talking about recording your endeavors for future viewing, that is old school, I'm talking about blatantly photo documenting the moment before it has a chance to become an engraved part of your consciousness.  Why should I bother to remember the details of anything - I have a photo!  Reliving a precious moment or a tantalizing experience is closing your eyes and feeling everything that goes along with it, not looking at a photo on your phone and holding it up for the world to see.  That implies a need for validation, a hyper desire for that little red thumbs up that you see when someone "likes" something that you've posted.  Let's face it, everyone likes to see that little red thing - it's fun to read other people's comments and such, but you know deep down that it doesn't matter who likes it or who doesn't... it only matters that it matters to you.  Sure, it's rewarding when close friends and people who you love say hey I really LIKE what you are doing and I'm proud of you, but most people I know don't live their lives so that other people can give them the thumbs up - that's just an added bonus, a pat on the back and that's always nice to get.  BUT it seems like more and more, people are taking these photos and videos and posting them for that reason alone!  They are not even doing it for themselves but instead so that they can take that moment and draw even more attention to themselves.

People are going to misread what I've said here, but that is always going to be the case whenever I write something down.  From this angle, the words say this and from this angle, this... an example... when Ty, the now 7 year old was about 9 months old, we went to Family Fun Time and then to the park after where Thalia met us, now, she may not remember this, but Ty, being the ever precocious child that he was and still is, saw a HUGE pile of newly generated mud.  Without even the slightest hesitation, Ty proceeded to the mud and began to poke it and put his hands in it and next thing you know, he is sitting in it, laughing, squealing, throwing the mud - letting it fly in his hair and on his face and on everything around him.  He giggled and got it in his mouth and laughed with that whole body, all encompassing laughter that only babies and toddlers can... I swear, I stood there for a full 10 minutes just letting him play, laughing along with him until tears started to roll down my face.  Just the joy of him enjoying something so simple and so seemingly random - it is one of my favorite memories from his "babyhood."  Now, I'm not going to lie, Ty would love to see that video today - he would get such a kick out of watching himself at that age, but in that moment, it was all about him, and me and Thalia and Jackson, watching and laughing and being disgusted by the sight of him eating some of that mud and, quietly, Thalia took just one photo which she later gave to me and which now hangs on a cupboard in the kitchen and, it is one of my favorite photos of Ty.  She didn't stop his play or shout his name or try to get the perfect shot.  She just aimed, shot and captured that crazy little guy doing his thing. Does this example negate my argument?  It really doesn't, because as much as I love that photo and I do and so does Ty, we love to experience that memory together even more.  I describe it to him and he laughs and asks questions and I am reminded that we both really lived that moment; we shared it.  Stories and sharing ideas are a huge part of what makes us human, not selfies where the camera is positioned in exactly the right way.  Photographs are lovely and wonderful and ... art forms, but the sharing of moments is even more so.  The constant interruption of these moments continues to perpetuate a generation of people that are "piecemealed" together.  They don't read books, they use Sparknotes.  They don't ride bikes, they play cycle video games.

We are a fractured people, a broken society - interrupted and disjointed by blasts of information and an incessant need to be recognized by others.  Maybe that's the way it will always be because we are fallible and we do seek the approval of others, particularly of our peers, but, does that mean that there is no way to create some kind of a balance?  Technology offers us options, but that is all they are with social media and implements that are "additional,"  just because they are offered doesn't mean you have to take them.  Wait, I think that is the argument that the DARE program used when they talked about why you shouldn't do drugs...

The thing is, we aren't perfect, we don't look, act or behave perfectly and our visual recordings shouldn't reflect an absence of our weaknesses, our frailty or, our humanism.  Rather, they should reflect those moments that are disjointed and, quite frankly, "wrong."  Why else would shows like America's Funniest Home Videos be so popular?!?  We like to see imperfection and mistakes, maybe more than we like to see everything done smoothly.  We like to laugh and to make fun, but we want that to be genuine and in the moment.  I saw a teenage girl the other day, riding a strand cruiser behind two of her friends who were in front of her, each of them on his own skateboard and she was "monologuing" into her cell phone while recording them on their skateboards... the bike was wobbling and, I'm not going to lie, I had a moment where I was hoping she'd smash right into something so I could yell, "Get off that fucking phone and ride your damn bike!" but alas, she righted the bike and there was no physical harm done.  No harm done... well, that's debatable.

Round 2...

Ok, I will give this another go... I was going to forego the blog, but, given a break, I realized that it's just a part of me now and, just like everything else in my life, I can't hide from the reality of it. And so, a new onslaught of considerations for your consideration I guess. But really, I write this for me.  Incidentally, I post this link on FB because friends have asked me to, but it feels pretentious to me - a "look at me" quality about it that I don't really care for... So, if you would like to read my incessant ramblings as frequently as I will create them, please do me a favor and follow the blog... You can do it anonymously, he'll, I'd be embarrassed to admit I read it too, but to each HER own.

So, follow don't lead this time or lead, follow, lead or do the hokey pokey or whatever floats your boat, but please be prepared for the insidious nature of the writings to soon follow... Got your attention there didn't I?

Let the games begin once more...       Yvette

May 28, 2014

Maya Angelou died today at the age of 86... I am deeply saddened to learn of her passing. 

To medicate or not to medicate...

I wish it were as simple as me being able to look at someone and tell them exactly what I think... but, you and I both know that there exist layer upon layer of social "rules of order" that do not allow for this kind of forthright verisimilitude.  However, as one who has not always followed the rules, I am inclined to think that a straight forward approach is apropos in many cases and albeit, this could mean that I lose someone's respect or friendship, well, then that will just have to be a chance that I am willing to take.  Educating someone who chooses to remain ignorant about a topic let's say and then turns around to publicly denounce and/or humiliate another person based on said ignorance, well, let's just agree that if it were appropriate to hit people in public, then I would be the most appropriate person on the planet...

I'm speaking in riddles I know, but, if I disclose everything in one place, then there is no mystery, there is no foreplay.  It just simply is, she said this, I said that and BAM, done.  I always got the impression that you wanted me to tease you a bit before I revealed all, but then again, sometimes it is good to just get right to it.  Either way, I have to say, I am enjoying this little one sided back and forth if you will.  Or not, maybe I'm just deliriously tired and ashamed of some of the things that I am thinking at this particular moment in time.

SO, having said, well, nothing important or of any particular interest, let's move on to something else: medication.  Now I have your attention. Since I first posted several months ago about being diagnosed with ADD, many people have asked me about my course of action or, in layman's terms "What drugs did you get?" Pause for reaction... There is a politically correct discussion that looms around the prescription of medication for those who suffer from Attention Deficit issues and, in my case, that are primarily paired with Mood issues/disorders.  See, in the course of my research and in continuing to see my therapist (who, incidentally, I LOVE, for a variety of reasons), I have found that there are not only "types" of ADD but levels as well; the symptoms and the treatments are has varied as the patients themselves.  At one point, the prescriber wanted me to try Depakote which is actually used in patients who have seizures (this after a long discussion of my migraine headaches and my often severe mood swings), but the more I read up on the side effects and the dosage and my overall "goals" for taking medication in the first place, the more quickly I learned that all Depakote would do, and after taking it twice, was make me feel "nothing." And, my friends, nothing is not something that I want to refer to in terms of how I "feel" about anything.  It drugged me.  Trite I know, but that is how I felt, like I wasn't emoting at all.  Needless to say, two pills in and those went the way of "back to the pharmacy."  In conjunction with Depakote, I was and have been taking for almost two months now, wait for it... Adderall.  Well, a generic.  It's cheaper, but, yes, Adderall, a low dosage, but, let me just say, one that is working the way that she said that it would. 

Now, here is where all of the "hacks" and the anti-med people jump on the bandwagon or create a completely valid argument for why I feel "better" when taking amphetamines... just wait a second, OF COUSE I'm going to feel better - they are DRUGS.  They are giving me DRUGS... wait, I'm laughing hysterically.  Ok, I'm calm now.  But, I think if you allow me to pontificate momentarily, I can explain the difference between being "wasted" and being "medicated."  Splitting hairs for some of you, but, have you met me, like I give a Rat's ass about splitting hairs.  So, back to the drugs, ok MEDS...

I have learned that there are frontloading medications as opposed to a twice daily routine and I prefer the frontloading ones although they are more expensive because this particular one doesn't come in generic form, but it works for me because I only have to take it once a day and by the time that it seems to wear off, I feel like I might be able to fall asleep and, BIG side effect, one that I am not all that happy about is trouble sleeping.  This doesn't seem to be the case with the time release meds as much as the twice daily because I felt like they were still working when I went to pass out at 9 or 10; now, I just stay up a little later and that seems to do the trick.  But, overall, my body seems to be adjusting.  So, I take one pill in the morning after breakfast and, well, there you go, that's it.  CURED!  Just kidding... that's just the beginning.

If I could describe the feeling, I would simply say, it feels like my brain got plugged in.  Like someone literally grabbed a hold of the loose wires in my brain and re-connected them.  I do not get hyper or jittery or spastic.  I do not mumble incoherently or move faster than a speeding bullet.  Instead, it is just the opposite, I feel... calm.  Now, when this happened, this feeling, it was immediate and it was on the first day and since then, she has adjusted the dosage a bit so now I feel "just right."  Also, my brain seems to work in accordance with the meds now rather than seemingly fighting against them as I have heard some people describe it.  I mean, Adderall is Speed.  I suppose I could snort Coke and get the same effect but, not having ever used cocaine nor having the financial means to do so and also the fact that it too is a drug, I think I may stick with the prescription for now.  I know splitting hairs... fuck you.  Anyway, so during the time that my brain is on "drugs," I feel hard wired for peace.  I can focus better and longer, but no I am not instantly OFFICE MANAGER supreme; I didn't suddenly gain the ability to become organized and super efficient, BUT the two main keys are these: I can sustain my attention for longer with one particular activity so, by virtue of that, I am able to complete more tasks and, at the same time, to be less distracted and impulsive.  In addition, when I don't finish something or I lose something or I am running behind, I am calmer about the end result.  I am finding ways to work around the issues as they come up rather than ram through them like the Bulls running in Pamplona... There is an ease that comes over my brain, my being, my self, that makes me not so volatile, so emotional, so quick to act, which is a major factor in ADD.  Impulsivity, inability to focus and mood swings/quick to anger/judgment... all factors that have impeded my ability to be successful in many relationships and jobs.  People don't understand why I've taken jobs that pay me 10 or 12 dollars an hour because I have a Master's Degree. What they don't understand is, it isn't that I'm not capable of doing any job or going back to school or getting a Ph.d. Of course I am and of course I could, but when you struggle with the follow through, when you battle every single day with the question of "Will I get this done?" or even, "Will I do it right?" it's extremely hard to put yourself in a position where you know that you will fail.  I don't mind failing and I have numerous times, but when the pressure is so intense and it resonates from a place where other people are relying on you, well, let's just say that I'd rather have some flexibility and less pressure than money or prestige.  I enjoy tasks that have an expiration date and I love being productive.  I try very hard to set smaller goals for myself like weeding the garden instead of, this summer I think I'll go to Tanzania... how am I going to save the money.  The thing is, I still want to go to Tanzania, that Yvette hasn't changed and I hope to get there, but by saying I'm going to weed the garden and then by getting out there and finishing it for the day, I feel like I can now sit back and work on the bigger task of getting to Tanzania.  The medication makes me less willing to go to that dark place of tears and subterfuge that has often derailed my ability to function.  I have spent many nights curled up on the kitchen floor sobbing, not understanding why things are the way they are and why I am the way I am.  In this respect, Nick and I have a lot in common.  He doesn't exhibit these outpourings of emotion, but he often describes it as though he has two brains and he sometimes cannot understand why he does things in a certain way when he would like to do them in another way.  I am identical to him in that respect.  But overall, the medication is re-connecting the shorted wires.

In conjunction with the meds, I go to therapy regularly and I am exercising again.  I miss Bikram and I will get back to it, it is really expensive, but those with attention deficit issues have to do HARD exercise:  running, weights, martial arts, yoga... activities that exhaust their bodies and simultaneously help them to focus.  When the brain is exhausted and willing, clarity comes and that is when people with ADD are the most productive.  I don't really drink alcohol anymore either.  I will have a drink now and then; I had one the other night with my friends, but usually I have a drink maybe once every couple of weeks.  I also try to sit quietly at the end of the day for a few minutes to think about what could have been done differently that day and then I remind myself not to beat myself up.  I try to focus on what I did right because for too long I focused on what I did wrong.

My diet has been better too; another side effect to the meds can be killing of the appetite, but unfortunately for me, that has yet to happen, but I am trying to be more mindful of what I eat and how much water I drink.  As a result, my migraines are fewer and further between so I am thankful for that.  I guess in the long run, I can say that I don't think I will take medication for ever, but now that I have been officially diagnosed and I have gone through the proper channels, including having a complete physical and an EKG, I can wholeheartedly say that I am relieved to know that there is something there that I can try to manage, with help and that my overall level of empathy for those and with those who have learning differences or challenges has multiplied extensively.  I'm an average person who has worked hard to accomplish the goals that I set for myself but I also have a strong support system including friends who don't judge me and my former mistakes.  Those who did judge, I kicked to the curb.  No time for that nonsense.  And for what it's worth, if you struggle with an issue, know that it isn't something that WEB MD is going to provide an answer for nor is the issue going to have one solution.  Rather, there will be many components to the solution that require longevity and trial and error and that a huge part of the battle is finding the "right" system of components, including professionals and friends who will be there with you when you turn right on the wrong street and instead of laughing at you, they will shield you from the consequences so that the next time, you will turn the way that you were supposed to.  There is nothing wrong with me.  I am simply an Yvette with quirks that require some tweaking, not to function mind you, but to be better, for myself, for my children, for my husband and for those who choose to remain in my world and in everything around me. 

There is no cure, there are only gradients in the path that we each are on.  Lately, mine had been riddles with gravel and I fell often.  Now I have a good set of knee pads.  And, that has made all the difference... be well.

Catharsis...

I've been crying a lot recently; sometimes it comes out of nowhere and sometimes it comes at really inconvenient times, like when I am driving. And, unfortunately, I am an ugly crier. I have friends who cry beautifully, but not me. Nope. My face gets bright red and I scrunch up eyes like a seriously old woman and then I make this half wheezing, half snorting sound that seems to frighten people, at least that has been my experience in the past. I'm always in admiration of those actors on television who can cry with just tears rolling down their cheeks. Now, THAT is a real skill. You can look good, keep most of your make-up in tact and yet, you can participate in the moments that make you want to send drops rolling effortlessly down your grief stricken face. I guess I thought on some level that life would get a bit easier and simpler as the kids got older, well, Jake and Nick anyway. Ty is still the "little" of the house so I am not going to include him, but, recently, especially with Nick's diagnosis, preparing him for his future independent life has become a full time job. I am emotionally exhausted right now and I have been looking for a way to channel those feelings into something positive; I have been looking for activities or hobbies or a job that will allow me to be productive and that will belong just to me for now. Something that will introduce me to a new facet of life, maybe even something that I hadn't previously considered. Whatever it is, I have to find a way to disconnect myself from the level of involvement that being the mom of an Aspie requires. That is the terminology that we use to describe our wonderful yet challenging children, a phrase that was coined and has been used in every single parenting manual that you will find on Special Education "types" at Barnes and Noble. Regardless of the term, having a teenager is challenging anyway, but throw in some obstacles for which you aren't prepared and, well, you'd be looking for a change in your life too. I try to remind myself everyday that the reasons why Nick is so great, and he is: smart, sensitive, loving, funny as all hell are part of the Asperger's too. The syndrome has shaped him into who he is and although there are symptoms and there are quite a few, Nick would not be Nick without it. And for that reason, I keep pushing forward. Sometimes the tears come when I think about all of the hard times that Nick will face and although I hope and pray that those are few and far between, I know, for a fact, that there will be many. And, that it is my job to prepare him for those. Sometimes I cry when I think about all of the other teenagers out there who are Nick's age who are hanging out with friends on the weekends and who play sports like I did when I was his age and he is content, reading a book or playing a video game. I try very hard not to project my ideas of what and who he should be onto him, but it's really difficult not to do that sometimes. And so I cry more. Sometimes I cry when I think about Nick being on his own and how I won't get to reassure him or check on him or tell him that I love him every single day. I believe that he will have his own life, his own career and his own relationships, but it will be challenging. Lastly, I cry when I think that one day I won't be here for him anymore and as long as I know that he has a solid system in place, I won't worry, but I will still be sad, sad at the knowledge that I won't get to see him live out his entire life. No parent wants to do that, that would mean, clearly, that we outlived them, but I would very much like to know that he is ok and that my greatest gift in life will be the knowledge that the three of them no longer "need" me, that they can survive and thrive on their own. I look forward to the day that I will miss my children; I don't want it to come too soon, but when it does, it will mean that I've fulfilled my goal of helping them to become the men that they set out to be. Asperger's, like any other affliction or gift or challenge that we all have to individually face, has robbed my son of opportunities; he is not able to fully participate in the same kinds of life activities that his peers do. Sometimes I am sad for that, but more often than not, I am glad that he doesn't. It presents a challenge, but it also forces Nick and our family to find, to create, to examine opportunities that we might not have otherwise considered. My Nick is a trained teen volunteer and he takes Sign Language classes. He reads a book a week and he adores animals. He finds joy in the simple things like pumping gas, grocery shopping and taking walks in the neighborhood. Simple. Nick is simple. Sometimes I cry because I worry that he won't find someone who appreciates that simplicity, even when it does come wrapped with intelligence and humor. I've cried a lot in the last month at the realization that there are wonderful schools out there with programs that would afford Nick the kind of education that could change his life and that we cannot afford to send him to them. This last one has been the most difficult, especially for me. You always want to give your kids what they need, but it is hard to know when and how and if you can even attempt to do it. When you have other children too, your whole life cannot revolve around one child's needs and lately it seems that is the case in my house. Maybe the tears come when I find myself unable to share the exact sentiment that concerns these issues and problems. No one understands exactly what I 'm going through although there are many friends who have similar experiences and those who care and listen because they are friends. I try not to think too much that if I feel this way, then what must Nick be going through? I think that, and then he comes around the corner and hugs me or he starts dancing in the hallway or he tells me a blonde joke. He loves those the most... all three of the boys do, "Mom is having a blonde moment." Yes she is children and you are the cause of it. I think pregnancy kills brain cells and I know I'm not the first to make that claim... I haven't been so proud of myself or my behavior lately. I think I was getting so far removed from the reality of situations because of the demands on me at home that I let things go that I shouldn't have and I neglected the people and events that I should have given my attention to more regularly. I haven't been completely honest with people nor have I begun to get back to the routine that I desperately need to regain my foothold outside of this house. I know what a lot of my friends would say, "You need to go for a run." Yes, that is very true. And I need to, and I need to and the list goes on until it falls down the front of the refrigerator and gently folds itself onto the floor. The list is endless and it changes everyday and while I love that change, I also long for some peace and an opportunity to reinvent myself so that I can be more for my family, especially my children. It's excruciatingly painful when you are the role model for them and you feel like you're failing on multiple levels. And then they hug you and tell you that you are a badass and it gets better again. In my dictionary, there is only one word that appropriately describes parenting and that is unpredictable... alarmingly unpredictable. That's two words. Maybe it would be easier if I were a worrier, but, excluding any evidence here to the contrary, I am not. I don't worry about what will happen tomorrow; I think about it, I consider it, I feel it but rarely do I worry about it. I can't change what is coming, not for Nick, not for Jake, not for Ty, but I can help them to be ready for it and if I fail to do that, then I will have failed us all. It is a heavy responsibility raising children, an endeavor unlike anything else that I've ever taken on in my life and the one "job" that I've managed to stick with for the longest. Nick told me the other day that he is noticing things about his peers that he never noticed before and he was stuck on one idea in particular and that was the notion that a lot of the kids his age seemed to think that life "sucks." When we discussed it, he said he understood whey they might think that, but that he didn't think that. For him, the idea that someone would want to dramatize something is difficult to comprehend. Making a big deal out of something insignificant is pointless. So when he does it and I point it out, then he sees what those kids mean, yet he still doesn't agree. He can't understand why they want to waste their time on social media or whey they talk about each other in such a way one day and then in another way the next day. A rather mature assessment I think, but also one that sets him apart again. Maybe it is because we spend so much time together that I notice more and more how hard Nick is trying to "be like everyone else" and yet, deep down, I hope on some level that he doesn't succeed. Nick is a lot like those boxes that contain another box and so on... there are many levels to discover and by which to be challenged... I don't really believe in self-pity. I know it exists and I understand why, but, to me, it's a lot like worry, pointless. I don't have a single thing to feel sorry for myself about. Yes, we had to sell our house, yes, we have a son with special needs, yes, we have financial challenges, yes, we are dealing with issues that surround middle age and yes, God yes, we continue to face our own demons. But when I look in the mirror in the morning, if I can tell myself that I did the best I could the day before even if that only meant that I swept the living room, then that will have to be enough. It is enough. I don't expect people to understand me or my life or my situation, but I like to think that they try. I use that same approach with Nick. I don't pretend to understand him or the way that he thinks because I can't, all I can do is love him and accept him and keep wanting more for him than he got the day before. Most parents I know say the exact same thing about their kids. On the days that I cry, when I feel like I'm losing my focus and I can't seem to snap out of it, I let myself go there. I feel it, embrace it and then I try to move forward. Nick, of all of the people in my life, has taught me that. His innate ability to "forget" what just happened, especially if it was negative, has been the greatest gift of all. I doubt that he will be able to hold on to that perpetual feeling of "it's over, let it go," but for now, I hope that he continues to embrace things slowly, at his own pace, even if the world around him is moving twice as fast. That's my Nick. I think I could probably learn to appreciate a life without failure; I like to think that I would still appreciate the people and things in my life, but, let's face it, failure just gives us perspective and, really, hope that the next time we try, we will succeed. So in catharsis then, when the tears come, we shouldn't hold them in and we shouldn't be ashamed of their presence because the feelings behind them remind us that there is good in the pain and that pain reminds us that we are alive and here and still trying to make the best of things. When my boys fall down, literally, or have in the past, I don't run right at them and yell "What's wrong? Are you ok? Are you hurt? Don't cry." and that doesn't make me a candidate for a Social Services visit. Instead, I try to stay calm, minimize the "hurt" and if they cry, and they do, I simply let them. And if they need me to hold them then I do. Sometimes I just say, "Take your time, when you're ready." And you know what, they always are ready, eventually. So Nick, take your time and when you're ready, we will face the challenges as they come, hopefully one at a time and not in tandem and maybe we should all remember that, very much like the Little League Pledge, life really is just one big game with pitfalls and windfalls, despair and hope, suffering and redemption and that by "striving to win" we really do win. So, let the tears come and when they stop, dry your eyes, remember why they came, file it away and get back in the game. But I don't tell Nick that because he looks at me funny and asks, "What game Mom?" and then shakes his head, blonde moment indeed...

Gaining more than I've lost...

An excellent composition student of mine this past term wrote a research paper on Factory Farming and much can be gained directly from reading the information and there is much that is to be inferred. After finishing the paper, I watched two separate documentaries about factory farms and then I did some research of my own. It is not as though this subject or GMO's or starting your own garden are new topics per se, but after reading her research and her view point, I decided that it was time that I applied the data to myself, to my family and to my life as an educator. What I discovered was revelatory. As a cheeseburger consuming, ketchup wielding, bacon frying kind of girl, I had always just kind of operated with the philosophy that the food chain exists for a reason and we, at the top, have an inalienable right to consume everything that falls below us, even if we didn't hunt, fish or kill it ourselves. I was raised on hot dogs, burgers, eggs, turkey sandwiches and so on and even when we started having kids, I never really thought about the implications of "meat" consumption because what I really started to think about these past couple of months was not "meat," but, really, animal consumption. Even as I type this, the pug is staring at me, knowing what I've done to his distant relatives, in the broadest terms. In conjunction with my research and film viewing, I also read Michael Pollan's The Ominivore's Dilemma and I read a transcript of a documentary in which a middle aged man from Australia documented a trip across the United States while consuming nothing but freshly blended juice from real fruit and veggies, but more on that later. When I sat down to think about the potential impact of all of this information, not just on the public, but on society, I have to admit, it frightened me. It made me step back and think about the notion of paying it forward. It's illogical to think that each of us can help everyone change their lives, but it is logical to think that if our example influences one and our kindness changes another and our awareness causes yet another to consider an idea then, it was worth putting it out there. And so, the 30 day Vegan challenge arose... Truthfully, I also had an ulterior motive, a new year, new challenges, a time to rethink my health regimen and, possibly, to get back into the routine that I had successfully carved out for myself the year before last. Honestly, I wasn't feeling well: tired, cranky, sluggish, achy. Yes, I am cranky very often, but the others applied on a really regular basis, even rivaling the others. Imagine. So, I went online, found the challenge, took Jake with me to Sprouts and the challenge began... In all, I went completely Vegan for 25 days and Vegetarian for the last 5. I had egg whites and dairy during the last 5 days. I lost 4 pounds and I gained a deep appreciation for my body and the choice, the action of every piece of food that enters into my system. More than that though, I gained a deeper understanding of how very little effort it takes to impart an idea, to share a new way of thinking, to help others feel that way too. I'm not going to lie. There were days when I wondered what the hell I was doing. I bought a juicer, I invested in a recipe book (anyone who knows me knows that it will just collect dust on my shelf), I registered for an online chat group with other "Veganites" and I started to talk to my family about the impact of their barbarism on the planet. They basically chastised me and told me to "Pass the Bacon." That's just the norm around here. There are 5 of us in my family and, given the research, if 2 of us change our patterns, or, if 50% of the number in your household (we aren't going to chop Ty in half, well, not today anyway) change the amount of meat products consumed in their families, eventually the shortages and the animal cruelty and the corn fed beef as opposed to natural grass fed beef, would wane. Interesting given the fact that most of the reading material that I came across did not patronize meat eaters, but instead, discussed in an informative and rather non-biased way the subject of how MUCH meat and egg and dairy products were are consuming and how that is contributing to a potential shortage in the near future; who are we kidding? There already is a shortage. We are consuming meat, including poultry and fish at such an alarming rate that the farms cannot keep up and, in turn, the practices that they are utilizing are barbaric, unsanitary and frankly, unsettling, to say the least. When I decided to change my diet, I thought about the contribution of cutting out all meat and dairy and instead, I realized that just by cutting out some, a significant difference could be made. That sounds so trite, but, again, as someone who was raised on meat, this is a profound alteration in the way that I had thought about food. In addition, I realized, as soon as I began this regimen, that the amount of chemicals and antibiotics and other ingredients in food products were affecting my system, including, my sight, my skin and, although I'm no longer using them for their intended purpose, my reproductive organs. I started to think about meat as not the pure product that I once thought it was; that is what really changed for me. It has been 10 days since the "end" of the challenge and since then, I've had eggs, turkey bacon and tilapia, but I have yet to have beef or pork and, without shooting myself in the foot, I can put out into the universe that there is a better than great chance that I will not eat those two ever again. I will limit my consumption of poultry and that includes eggs and I no longer drink "dairy" milk. I now use soy products only. While I did not extend my Vegan challenge into my household products, I am more mindful of the products that I do buy and that I use in our home and I am also on a mission to get my family to be more aware of what and how much they eat of something, but I do not deprive them of something if they want it. Jake just ate two cheeseburgers and Nick had a turkey sandwich for lunch. I think the turning point for me was when I really thought about all of the animals and how horribly they are treated in factory farms because of the production rate that has to be kept up. If people did not want to cut down by half, they could consider replacing certain products or even, just substituting something else for animal meals once in a while. This was my 30 day journey and this is what I've learned so far. I bought a new juicer. I had one years ago, but, alas, it was lost by the wayside. After reading this man's journey back to health based solely on 3 months of juicing, I was inspired to think about fruits and veggies in another way. While I had been a bacon girl, I am an avid veggie and fruit eater and so are my kids, well, more fruits than veggies but that is changing day by day. Even Ty has gotten on board with Kale, Apple, Carrot, Broccoli juice. I would have never imagined. Again, the main discovery for me has been how well I feel when I am consuming natural, whole, sometimes organic products. This sounds childish to me, not revelatory, but it wasn't the knowledge, it was the act of making a conscious choice to eat this not that or to drink that not this. And then, looking at the bigger picture which involves how my body is functioning. I sleep better, I'm calmer, I have more energy, these are given, BUT I began to think more clearly, at least that is what it seemed like. My focus was sharper when it came to certain activities and I didn't have to think about them repeatedly. This is revelatory for someone who wasn't raised to think about food as a mechanism by which to function more efficiently; I was raised to think of food as pleasure more than as fuel. And yes, a kale smoothie isn't going to substitute for a piece of cheesecake all the time, but it is going to make me feel like going for a walk or a swim so that I can later have that piece of cheesecake. I realize all of this has been said before but I guess I wanted to put it down in a context that was mine, a lesson that I learned. I try never to hate my body; it pisses me off sometimes, unknowingly of course, but whatever ails it, it is because of the choices that I have made. When I treat it well, it returns the favor and this 30 day challenge gave me some valuable insight into what it means to be kind to oneself. I have some really great friends who have also committed to adding in facets of health: drinking more water, daily activity, veggies galore, planking... and all of this, combined with a desire to be mobile in my later years has helped me to begin to heal again. I'm not going to make something up, but I stopped running when Coach Scott died. It's not a viable reason; his family goes on every day and they are an amazing group of people. I don't know what it was, I just kind of got lost again, fell out of touch with that girl that I was a long time ago. And I needed to think about the whole picture in another way and I really felt, when I read Tailyr's paper for the first time, that it was time to start thinking about the whole picture again, not just a fraction of the piece. I miss him. But I know what he'd say and for anyone else who knew him, they know too. I guess overall, when I hear people say, well, you only live once, I never really think that they are referring to the NY steak that they are going to eat or the vodka martini that they just threw down, oh, incidentally, no alcohol either on the Vegan plan... wait for reaction. Ok, continuing on, I guess I think that means that they are doing something dangerous, something that may compromise their health, their sanity, their fidelity and THAT is why they are doing it. But in my journey, that NY steak is indeed, one of those compromises. I suppose in a broader way, it is more fair to say I will try than to say I will, but let's face it, do we ever really get anywhere when we say we will try? We try, yes, but when we say we will, then we try in conjunction with succeeding. So, I will no longer eat red meat or pork. And I will try to be ever mindful of the reasons behind why I choose to do that. And those people are right, you only live once and I want that once to continue to be a journey of health, mobility and longevity. I want that for you too.

Finally... a new year

I don't know about you, I hope for you it was different, but for me, 2013 was a shitty year. I mean, my kids are healthy, my husband pretends to still love me and I have a few friends left, but overall, I was extremely glad to see 2013 go the way of the dumpster... I realize that a year is just a year, another year is just another year, but, I think that could be said for so many things. We always associate a newness with January 1st, but really, it's just a day in the pantheon of days, of weeks of years. My sons turn 17, 14 and 8 this year, I turn 45 and our marriage turns 21... just numbers, experiences, lives wrapped up in one seemingly endless turn of a sunset into a sunrise into a sunset. I'm not someone who is as hung up on age as other people are and I am definitely not someone who sits around and wonders how I can look "younger." I did get my hair colored today and I noticed, not for the first time, that the gray hair has now begun to invite friends to the party, but I told Erin, my friend and my long time hair "manager" that I actually liked the gray. She laughed right before she colored it away, but I secretly like it; it is my own personal tribute to the nights I lay awake worrying about my children or the culmination of tears I've shed, many of them this past year. A badge of honor if you will, maybe I will let it go gray eventually. Or, maybe not. 2013 began with the death of a very loved and very respected man. As the anniversary of his death fast approaches, I am deeply saddened again by the recurring thought that I won't see him again. I think of him often and I feel his presence sometimes when I am remembering an anecdote about running or I picture a training in Griffith park or whenever I get a message from someone who was associated with APLA, but it makes me really sad when I think back a year ago to the day when we all sat in the Temple to pay tribute to him and, tragically, to say goodbye. I knew it was happening while it was happening, but it wasn't until a couple of months ago that I faced it again, with the help of two very good friends. I hadn't run in almost a year. I stopped. I did nothing. I gained 25 pounds back. I didn't want to acknowledge it let alone admit it. I felt tired and weak, sad and unfocused. More than anything though, I felt really lost again. When the December running challenge came, run at least 1 mile every day for the month of December, track it and hold yourself accountable, I reluctantly agreed. As the days went on and the month closed out, I only missed two days. Now my girls did it every day, as did many other people nationwide, but instead of kicking myself for those two days, I celebrated the fact that I was back on track and that I needed to work through the issues that had kept me from continuing my physical and psychological, to some degree, success(es). I needed to step back in order to move forward and so this month, it's 30 minutes of cardio a day, minimum, for the entire month. And, in addition to my girls, two more of the girls have joined in and today, on Day 4, I'm 3 for 3, going on 4 in just awhile. I'm trying to remember how I felt before Scott died, about running, about life, about all of it. I let myself down this year, in more ways than one and I know for a fact that a lot of it was in tandem with letting go of running. I know that now. Tim told me about a week ago that my being judgmental usually leads to my overreacting to things and to people. He's said similar things over the years, but he said it in a way, this time, that really gave me pause. Maybe because it came at a time when I needed to hear it and could hear it objectively, but maybe moreso because it came from him and I value his opinion. I respect it. And so I thought about it and I realized that, like many times throughout our marriage, it wasn't so much that he was right and I was wrong, it was that it was the truth. I've let my judgmental nature serve as a shield to what's really going on, much of which isn't what I thought it was. I mean, there are times when I read people spot on, but there are other times when I am completely off base. I try to apologize and there have been times when it has been too late and the relationship is ruined. And, I have to live with that. Being "older" has given me some much needed perspective on this issue. Although I am impulsive, I have also come to understand that the people who know me the best, understand this about me and they try to accept it. They don't always like it, but they try. And so, I am hoping for more objectivity in my life, this year, this week, in the next few hours... I can't give people what they need or want from me when they do. I can only give when I am able to; this is a short sided view I realize but it's also the only way that I know how to operate. It comes across as extremely selfish and vain at times, but really, it's simply just an inability to be what everyone needs me to be, in that moment. If I'm mad then I can't pretend that I'm not. If you've pissed me off, then I'm going to act pissed off. I can't disguise my feelings and many people can't relate to that; they want you to plaster a smile on your face and wave as though you are driving in a convertible, down the Esplanade on a warm summer day. I lack the ability to do that, sure, people pretend, but I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be straight with you and have you either accept it or not, but I want to know that when my head hits the pillow that my conscience is clear. And ultimately, that is my goal for the upcoming year - a clear conscience, maybe even a clean slate. Several friends lost loved ones this year and my Grandpa Donald passed away as well. I saw him on a Friday and he passed on a Tuesday. It was sad and it is sad, especially for my Mom and her sisters, but, it was time. He went downhill rather quickly, but to me, it seemed like a natural progression. When I saw him on Friday, he told me, "Why does everyone keep asking me how I am? I'm old that's how I am." I laughed and said I understood. I just sat there for a little while, talked about the kids, held his hand, listened - he was having a hard time talking due to all the medication, but I understood him. I didn't stay too long because he was getting tired, but when I left, I kissed his cheek and told him that I loved him and I said goodbye. I got to say Goodbye. Sure, I didn't know that he was going to pass the next Tuesday, but I got to look at his face and say goodbye. I loved my Grandpa very much. I didn't go to see him as often as I should have, but whenever I did see him, it was like very little time had passed. He was a lovely man, genial, kind, smiling and funny. He and my Grandma were quite a pair; this was the first Christmas without both of them and although I didn't give it too much thought on the day, I'm sitting here now, thinking about him and wishing that both of them were still here. Pieces of my childhood; that's what my grandparents were. Good memories, laughter, joy, family and although we continue the traditions, a part of me died when each of them did. I am no longer the granddaughter. Now, as I have been, I am a mother and a wife and one day, God willing, I will be a Grandmother. My mortality stares at me more with each relative that passes and I move into the upper echelon of remaining family members. Scott's death reminded me of that as well. And for the friends who lost dear ones, I was reminded yet again... My Grandpa left this year and a new baby entered. No, not me. That ship has sailed my friends although from time to time, Ty asks me for a sister. I just ignore him like I didn't hear his question. It has worked so far... my brother and his wife Erin welcomed their third child, my niece, into 2013. Her birth is not counted as part of the year that went awry, in fact, it was one of the brighter moments in many years past. I am glad for them and for their kids that they have another sibling. I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but I have, in my mind, thought of a few things that I am going to work on this year and I am hoping to work on my relationship with Erin. She probably doesn't know that; I don't think that she reads this blog, but if on some off chance that she does, I am going to try to be there for her and for her family more and to try to be kinder and more willing to be open, less judgmental as the theme continues. I want her to know that. As for all of the other crap that continued to pile up in 2013, there were some lovely moments as well; time spent with my family, generosity, a continued job that I love and a lot of funny stories, some too personal to mention here. If they were just my stories I'd mention them, but they involve other people and I am not so sure I can afford any more casualties in the friend department at the moment. I take a moment to post this rants on Facebook although I am not on FB anymore, meaning, I don't read postings or respond to them regularly anymore. I told myself that I was going to work on my "real" relationships with people rather than my virtual ones and I got tired of all of the stupid things that many people post on a daily basis. And yes, you read that right... STUPID. I'm not going to give an example, I'm not out to hurt anyone's feelings today. Many people think this blog is stupid and that's fine with me. Touche... I really liked Facebook for the keeping in touch with people who I don't see often factor, but after awhile, it got old, trying to keep up with everyone and everything and liking things and not liking things and sharing things and photos and... that's when I gave up on it. I do miss those people though and I am trying to keep up with them outside of social media, but when you don't Instagram or Twitter or Snapchat or whatever else the fuck that people are doing instead of talking to each other, it gets harder to do so. The wedge gets wider. Cest la vie, I guess I will just go back to the old fashioned way of communicating, a la eye contact and hugs and meeting for coffee. I miss mail and postcards and my Grandma's Christmas and Birthday cards. They were an ever present reminder that someone was thinking about me. Many friends are running the New Year's half tonight including my beloved The Rosh. To all of you, I hope that you have a great run and that every step brings you toward the promise of a blessed, happy and healthy year. Running really is a metaphor for life. Every step counts and you are constantly moving forward, hopefully toward a goal, but at 44, hopefully not the finish line... at least not yet. Be kind to each other and when you can't, when you feel the bile coming up into your throat, remind yourself that at least you are here and that you have a chance to try again. And I promise to try to do the same... Happy New Year.