Yesterday evening as Josh and Nate got into the Jeep after their swimming practice, Nate informed me that he had the coach order his sweatshirt with the word "Butta" instead of "Miller" on the back. He said he had it as "Miller" but then his teammates told him that he should put "Butta" on the back and so he did. (That's how he and his teammates decided it should be spelled, but I think I like it better as "Buttuh". He said that they considered the "h" at the end, as in "Buttah", but concluded that just the "a" was good.) I asked, Why Butta? And his cousin answered, "Because he's so smooth when he swims--like butta."
It got me to thinking that my day had been anything but smooth like buttuh. (hmmm, maybe I do like the butta better...or, butta betta...) My day had been more like crumbled bleu cheese; falling out everywhere. I knew I had a bug on Sunday with the cloudy head, achey, itchy ears, and burning throat and eyes that were with me when I woke that morning; I tried to take it easy. But any parent knows that you can't just take a day off from being a parent, especially when you are the only one present. Monday morning wasn't much better, but I was optimistic; I thought I felt better. So I surged forward with my "to-do-list".
After walking Grace to school, I got right to checking my email to see if Grace's Spanish teacher (the head of Student Council for the school) wanted Jen and me to come to the school that day to help with a fundraiser for Haiti. We had been communicating about it the previous week via email but now, on the kick-off day, my computer, more accurately, my email was going so slowly that it took me an hour and a half to type a two-paragraph message. That should've been my first clue that I needed to slow down and just chill. But I had so much to do! (I can hear my insidious-self chortling in the background now...or just my self...not really insidious, just a part of me that knows better.)
Between waiting for my email to unfreeze I decided to get started on the bills. Turns out I was in a holding pattern on them, too. One of Joel's roommates moved out near the end of December so I knew his rent and utilities and sanitation bills would go up and I took that into account, but what I forgot was that since he also just rotated to the 11am-9pm shift, he lost most of his shift-differential premium pay; a pretty big chunk of money for us to suddenly not have. The ironic thing is that he was allowed to choose his starting rotation with the knowledge that they would soon rotate forward a shift and stay for a longer period. He purposely chose the 5p-3a shift so that he would end up on the nightshift when they moved, but this time they went backwards. No one knows why. It's all a big mystery.
So. You get the idea. My plans for the day were quickly crumbling around me like bleu cheese. And I felt lousy about it along with just feeling lousy. But then today was a new day. I still felt murky but I went along with the flow...not like butta, but not like crumbling bleu cheese, either, more like a nice, creamy Brie. Eventually, by this evening, I found myself saying, "Like butta. Just like butta." And it's not like things have really gone exactly smoothly (hence, the Brie). For example, earlier today Jen and I collected piles and piles of coins and bills from each classroom at our kids' school for the Haiti fundraiser and took them to a credit union to change it all into bills ($486 in two days!). Later, I received a call from from the school clerk stating that I needed to call the lady at the credit union because she overpaid us by $11 and that they needed me to return the $11 to the credit union. I was baffled but I called. After hearing the bank lady's explanation, I knew what had happened and within three minutes it was fixed. We didn't owe $11.
Then today after school I noticed that Grace was coughing a lot. We had to leave for her ballet class in an hour; her costume deposit and measurements were also due, then we were going to skedaddle to the boys' swim meet across town, but I was starting to doubt that she was well enough to do all that. Sure enough, I felt her and knew she was too hot--102 temp. At first I was really bummed to miss one of Nate's meets and to have Grace miss her ballet that she so loves. Also, the costume stuff was due...but I made some calls...I caught my mom just before she hopped in the shower. She came to watch Grace when she was done, left her car running in my driveway so I could jump right in and not have to fiddle with the Jeep's quirks; I zoomed off within the speed limits to try to get to the community center dance studio by 5p so I could catch the teacher between classes and to get back home by 5:15p so Cheri and my mom could get to the meet on time. Whew!
After giving the envelope to her teacher at a few minutes before five, I walked out of there saying, Like butta. (Then I kept saying it all the way home, Just like butta.)
Not only because it all worked out with the timing, but because I realized in that moment that this was best for Grace and for me (and everyone else she may have infected if we went to ballet and swimming). And I thought about yesterday and I appreciated today so much more. The bleu cheese, the Brie, and the butta all come from the same place, they just have different traits. And then I said to myself, Bleu cheese is an aquired taste. Not everyone appreciates the veins of mold and that sharp bite, but those who do, understand its perfection.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
More Silly Fears
I forgot to mention the spiders and centipedes. When you are the only parent home, you must be the one to lead them out the door when your daughter is afraid. I've always thought it was silly to be afraid of bugs--we're so much bigger and probably scarier to them, but now, finally, I think I've come as far as I ever have in overcoming my fear of spiders and centipedes in my house. And it's all thanks to this past year of being a single-parent.
I've always talked to animals, even bugs, but bugs like arachnids and chilopods freak me out when they pop out in my bathroom or bedroom or kitchen or laundry room. When Joel is here I frantically ask him to come get it. If Grace is around I stay calm but I am still freaked out. I realized that by having Joel lead the bug outside, I was not dealing with it at all. Looking back, I think I was more afraid because I could be.
Now that it's just me (and Nate, if he's home) I still don't like to be startled by the spiders and centipedes, but I communicate with them more again (like when I was a kid). I ask them not to come into my bedroom, especially above our bed, and I ask that they just show themselves in a way that won't be so sudden. I even had a conversation with a centipede in my bathroom one night. I told him I knew it wasn't his fault that he had so many legs and moved so fast. I said, "So you walk fast, so what? Is that a reason for humans to freak out? Well I'm done freaking out. I see you. You're just a little guy roaming for food or something in my bathroom. Just please don't crawl on me or come in my room and we'll just call it a night, okay?"
I didn't take it outside. I felt sure that he would just go back to his hidey-hole and not startle me anymore. And he hasn't. It's been about five months now--no more midnight appearances by Mr. Centipede or his kin. Same for the spiders. I actually had two spider buddies this summer and fall; they hung out on their webs right near me when I sat on my porch swing to write. I watched them grow from tiny little black and red spiders to big, fat, round gals. At least I think they were gals. They got so plump; don't the female spiders usually get bigger like that? In any case, I considered them my writing pals. My fellow story weaver buds. I thanked them for not coming into my house, being so big and all. Plus, I still had a tinier spider friends that came out in the evenings to crawl on my living room ceiling when I wrote at nighttime or to greet me when I went to my kitchen sink for a drink of water.
Just another way single-parenting has reminded me about reconnecting with all living beings. I am thankful.
I've always talked to animals, even bugs, but bugs like arachnids and chilopods freak me out when they pop out in my bathroom or bedroom or kitchen or laundry room. When Joel is here I frantically ask him to come get it. If Grace is around I stay calm but I am still freaked out. I realized that by having Joel lead the bug outside, I was not dealing with it at all. Looking back, I think I was more afraid because I could be.
Now that it's just me (and Nate, if he's home) I still don't like to be startled by the spiders and centipedes, but I communicate with them more again (like when I was a kid). I ask them not to come into my bedroom, especially above our bed, and I ask that they just show themselves in a way that won't be so sudden. I even had a conversation with a centipede in my bathroom one night. I told him I knew it wasn't his fault that he had so many legs and moved so fast. I said, "So you walk fast, so what? Is that a reason for humans to freak out? Well I'm done freaking out. I see you. You're just a little guy roaming for food or something in my bathroom. Just please don't crawl on me or come in my room and we'll just call it a night, okay?"
I didn't take it outside. I felt sure that he would just go back to his hidey-hole and not startle me anymore. And he hasn't. It's been about five months now--no more midnight appearances by Mr. Centipede or his kin. Same for the spiders. I actually had two spider buddies this summer and fall; they hung out on their webs right near me when I sat on my porch swing to write. I watched them grow from tiny little black and red spiders to big, fat, round gals. At least I think they were gals. They got so plump; don't the female spiders usually get bigger like that? In any case, I considered them my writing pals. My fellow story weaver buds. I thanked them for not coming into my house, being so big and all. Plus, I still had a tinier spider friends that came out in the evenings to crawl on my living room ceiling when I wrote at nighttime or to greet me when I went to my kitchen sink for a drink of water.
Just another way single-parenting has reminded me about reconnecting with all living beings. I am thankful.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Facing Silly Fears
Before Joel and I got married we agreed that he would be in charge of doing any "car stuff" and I would be in charge of grocery shopping. As I said, I was a single-parent back when Nathan was 3-5 years old. So even though his dad, Donnie and I had a similar arrangement, though not exactly a "deal" like I had with Joel, I did eventually have to take care of my own car, then and now.
I was about to write that I don't know why it's almost like a fear for me to have to get my oil changed or worse, to have to take it in for an unknown problem; I know it's because I don't do it unless I have to. I had to back when Donnie and I were separated and I have to now. Of course, I could've asked Donnie to help me out, but why? For as much as I didn't like to handle car maintenance and problems, I really didn't like to be dependent on anyone. And I do like a challenge. If my life is going along on an even keel and nothing is going "wrong" then I'm not challenging myself enough. I like to scare myself, even if it simply means taking care of my car. When I face my fears, they eventually become something else. Depending on what it is...for instance, quitting my nursing job to become a writer was a HUGE fear for many reasons, but now that I've done it, I see that we can live on way less money and I can practice my passion and live more joyfully. But learning to maintain my car or figure out what to do with my totaled car is a fear that has turned into a mundane monthly task. But a mundane monthly task that I greatly appreciate! Really.
Almost exactly one month after Joel first left, February 2009, I got into an accident and totaled my car. Actually, I didn't fully total it, because it was fixable but for more than it was worth. And I had just switched us from full coverage to the bare minimum. So for me it was basically totaled. Luckily my mom never sold the old family hand-me-down, a 1994 gas-guzzling Jeep with almost 200,000 miles on it. It leaks oil and transmission fluids, it tends to veer to the right--two hands on the wheel are essential, the windows or doors (not sure which) don't seal right so there's a cold breeze and a wind tunnel sound effect even with the heat on high (the only setting the heat works), the driver's side door only opens from the outside, the motor to roll the windows up and down is questionable, especially in the cold (I have to use my hands to "help" it up--every time I get in and out of the car), the locks don't work right, and there's a kill-switch on it so the headlights have to be on in order to start the engine. A scary car for me to inherit, but now I love it. It hasn't let me down yet. Well, it did make me scream once when the kids and I were shopping for school clothes back in August and the steering wheel started to smoke. But otherwise, no problems.
And I've gotten quite adept at popping the hood and checking the fluids regularly. Actually I often have to get Nate to pop the hood because the pull thingy really sticks. But I open the hood and do all the rest of it myself. And it makes me feel so happy and accomplished...Not that I wouldn't love to have a "normal" car again, preferrably a hybrid so that I'm not polluting our earth so much. But with all it's flaws it has endured. (I had the urge to follow Frank Sinatra's voice and say, "I love it so!") And it has allowed us to pay off some of our debt before going out and buying another car that would put us more into debt. But the main point was that the car accident, the mangled car, the jeep have all played a part in helping me to be confident about taking care of my car again. A silly thing, I know, but to me it means something and it's symbolic of what all single-parents have to do in life. So that when and if we ever get a partner that will share the duties of life again, we are that much more appreciative, right?
I was about to write that I don't know why it's almost like a fear for me to have to get my oil changed or worse, to have to take it in for an unknown problem; I know it's because I don't do it unless I have to. I had to back when Donnie and I were separated and I have to now. Of course, I could've asked Donnie to help me out, but why? For as much as I didn't like to handle car maintenance and problems, I really didn't like to be dependent on anyone. And I do like a challenge. If my life is going along on an even keel and nothing is going "wrong" then I'm not challenging myself enough. I like to scare myself, even if it simply means taking care of my car. When I face my fears, they eventually become something else. Depending on what it is...for instance, quitting my nursing job to become a writer was a HUGE fear for many reasons, but now that I've done it, I see that we can live on way less money and I can practice my passion and live more joyfully. But learning to maintain my car or figure out what to do with my totaled car is a fear that has turned into a mundane monthly task. But a mundane monthly task that I greatly appreciate! Really.
Almost exactly one month after Joel first left, February 2009, I got into an accident and totaled my car. Actually, I didn't fully total it, because it was fixable but for more than it was worth. And I had just switched us from full coverage to the bare minimum. So for me it was basically totaled. Luckily my mom never sold the old family hand-me-down, a 1994 gas-guzzling Jeep with almost 200,000 miles on it. It leaks oil and transmission fluids, it tends to veer to the right--two hands on the wheel are essential, the windows or doors (not sure which) don't seal right so there's a cold breeze and a wind tunnel sound effect even with the heat on high (the only setting the heat works), the driver's side door only opens from the outside, the motor to roll the windows up and down is questionable, especially in the cold (I have to use my hands to "help" it up--every time I get in and out of the car), the locks don't work right, and there's a kill-switch on it so the headlights have to be on in order to start the engine. A scary car for me to inherit, but now I love it. It hasn't let me down yet. Well, it did make me scream once when the kids and I were shopping for school clothes back in August and the steering wheel started to smoke. But otherwise, no problems.
And I've gotten quite adept at popping the hood and checking the fluids regularly. Actually I often have to get Nate to pop the hood because the pull thingy really sticks. But I open the hood and do all the rest of it myself. And it makes me feel so happy and accomplished...Not that I wouldn't love to have a "normal" car again, preferrably a hybrid so that I'm not polluting our earth so much. But with all it's flaws it has endured. (I had the urge to follow Frank Sinatra's voice and say, "I love it so!") And it has allowed us to pay off some of our debt before going out and buying another car that would put us more into debt. But the main point was that the car accident, the mangled car, the jeep have all played a part in helping me to be confident about taking care of my car again. A silly thing, I know, but to me it means something and it's symbolic of what all single-parents have to do in life. So that when and if we ever get a partner that will share the duties of life again, we are that much more appreciative, right?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
A Different Kind of Single-Parent
Jen said that I should explain myself a bit more so that I will be more relatable; so you know exactly where I'm coming from. I hesitated to be more specific on the first Meatloaf and Growth blog for a few reasons, one of which was because I didn't want it to be about me or my situation. I wanted it to be for everyone. But after mulling it over I realized that some of the stuff I will write will not necessarily pertain to all single-parents, only those that are sailing a similar boat. And I think that's okay, but I also think Jen is right, I need to clarify just so we're all on the same lake.
My husband, Joel was laid off from his teaching job suddenly and unexpectedly back in August of 2007. His specialty is (was) physical education (K-12), but he could also teach science/biology to middle school through high school. Elementary P.E. was his favorite and the reason he chose to become a teacher. There were no teaching jobs available in any of those areas. We live in Michigan if that tells you anything. So now, he has a new career working for a branch of the federal government that, as I said, started on January 4, 2009. He lives in one state and we live in another. That was part of the hiring stipulations; that basically since they recruited him to work in a specific state, he would have to stay there for at least 2 years before requesting a transfer back to Michigan, no exceptions. We likened it to what military families do all the time, only he has the option to just leave the job. He would never do that, but it gave us comfort to know that he could if it got to be too difficult for Gracie. One of the reasons we knew that the kids and I would be staying here was because of our house. We still owe $139,000 on our mortgage and houses around here are going for easily less than $100,000, as low as $5000 on foreclosed homes. Blah, blah, blah. Boring stuff. But I'm just letting you know why we stayed. (Also because Nate's dad couldn't move...)
August of 2007 was a pivotal month for us. Around the same time Joel was laid off, I had just reduced my hours as a nurse at the hospice center I was working at because I'd finally realized that I could be a real writer and writing is what I've always loved to do and I was going to do it--I was going to write a book. And then another and another. So far I've completed one book and started two others. I've done some short stories, too. That's what I do now; I work on my writing (and searching for an agent) while the kids are at school. I have yet to earn a dime from any of it, but it doesn't matter. I love it and I will always write.
So that's why Jen came up with the "single-parent without the benefits" phrase (I asked her and she was the one that made it up) because while many single-parents get somewhat of a break when the other parent takes the kiddos for a day or two, parents like us do not have that option. But that was our choice. And everyday I am thankful that my husband has a solid job with no fears of being laid-off, he loves it and he loves all of the new and diverse friends he's met through that line of work, and our life today is so very different from the life we had only two years ago, but we are both so grateful and would not trade it.
My husband, Joel was laid off from his teaching job suddenly and unexpectedly back in August of 2007. His specialty is (was) physical education (K-12), but he could also teach science/biology to middle school through high school. Elementary P.E. was his favorite and the reason he chose to become a teacher. There were no teaching jobs available in any of those areas. We live in Michigan if that tells you anything. So now, he has a new career working for a branch of the federal government that, as I said, started on January 4, 2009. He lives in one state and we live in another. That was part of the hiring stipulations; that basically since they recruited him to work in a specific state, he would have to stay there for at least 2 years before requesting a transfer back to Michigan, no exceptions. We likened it to what military families do all the time, only he has the option to just leave the job. He would never do that, but it gave us comfort to know that he could if it got to be too difficult for Gracie. One of the reasons we knew that the kids and I would be staying here was because of our house. We still owe $139,000 on our mortgage and houses around here are going for easily less than $100,000, as low as $5000 on foreclosed homes. Blah, blah, blah. Boring stuff. But I'm just letting you know why we stayed. (Also because Nate's dad couldn't move...)
August of 2007 was a pivotal month for us. Around the same time Joel was laid off, I had just reduced my hours as a nurse at the hospice center I was working at because I'd finally realized that I could be a real writer and writing is what I've always loved to do and I was going to do it--I was going to write a book. And then another and another. So far I've completed one book and started two others. I've done some short stories, too. That's what I do now; I work on my writing (and searching for an agent) while the kids are at school. I have yet to earn a dime from any of it, but it doesn't matter. I love it and I will always write.
So that's why Jen came up with the "single-parent without the benefits" phrase (I asked her and she was the one that made it up) because while many single-parents get somewhat of a break when the other parent takes the kiddos for a day or two, parents like us do not have that option. But that was our choice. And everyday I am thankful that my husband has a solid job with no fears of being laid-off, he loves it and he loves all of the new and diverse friends he's met through that line of work, and our life today is so very different from the life we had only two years ago, but we are both so grateful and would not trade it.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Sunspots
It's no accident that part of the address to this site is, "ginassunspots". At first I tried for bright spots but it was already taken. Sunspots immediately came to my head and I knew it was perfect; better than bright spots. Sunspots are actually dark spots on the sun that are associated with strong magnetic fields. (I've always loved science.) Serendipitous, I thought, after I had typed in "ginassunspots" and saw that the name was available. The relative size of the sun's sunspots compared to the ubiquitous, bright light of the sun itself is incomparable. So it's a play on words. Since my goal was to uplift and focus on the daily blessings of single-parenting, a position that is certainly well associated with dark and difficult aspects, I thought it would be the perfect way to say, but look at all of that light? Look at all of those sunny spots. When we focus on the peaceful and loving and giving aspects of our lives, it helps us to stay that way and to attract that into our lives every single day--just like the strong magnetic fields of the sunspots.
So. Tonight, after Nate's swimming meet, I was driving home down Main Street and saw Barb's Pasties. It was a place I'd never been to, but years ago I had a patient from the U.P. tell me that Barb's is the best for authentic Yooper Pasties. Back then I worked and frequented that side of town but I never took the opportunity to try Barb's Pasties. Now, with my automobile woes of the past year I've tended to stay closer to home and had not been in that city for quite some time.
Again, if I were not acting as the lone parent, this probably would not have happened the way it did tonight. First of all, the dance class I'd signed Grace up to do on Saturdays was cancelled. The only other dance classes available were on Tuesdays at 5:30pm or Thursdays at 6pm. Nate's swim meets are also on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 6pm. I love watching Nate swim, and my nephew, too. Grace tolerates it. The dance class was a Christmas gift and something she's been asking to do for sooo long. She must tolerate having her dad live 7 states away AND riding along in the car during the weeks that it's my turn to drive the boys to and from swimming practice and meets. (She begs me to just let her stay home-she's six, so that'll never happen.) It's literally an hour and a half out of her (our) day just for the car part alone and that's just on practice days. On meet days it's a longer time spent in the car--plus the meet itself. To tell Grace that her ballet class was cancelled and that she'd have to wait months from now to join a different one? (I checked) Absolutely not.
So she recently started a half-hour ballet class that starts at 5:30 on Tuesdays. And it's not like I can watch Grace in her dance class; the doors are closed and parents sit and wait in the hall. So I read or write. Since I don't have my husband readily available to share the logistics of it, I was driving my own car, "The Jeep" (not really my own, it's technically my mom's), instead of having Cheri drive us like usual to the away meets. So when I saw Barb's I decided to pull right in to finally try those pasties.
Well, they have subs and pizza and dessert items, too. I got pasties for Nate and me, but Grace wanted something different. She decided on a sub. The bill came to $14.20. I went to grab my credit card and realized I'd forgotten to ask if they accepted them. It was a small, family-run place, I just had a sudden feeling that they only accepted cash and I was right. Well, no, not completely right: they take personal checks, too. But no credit or debit. I had exactly $8 in my purse. I had just emptied the bigger bills I'd won this weekend at Joel's mom's house in some friendly games of 4-5-6 and Screw Your Neighbor. (We played a total of 7 rounds: four games of 4-5-6 at $3/round and three games of the Neighborly one at $1 each. Nate or I won all 7 pots!) But isn't it strange that I just emptied the bills out of my purse today...?
Do you know what that nice lady said to me? (It wasn't Barb, but she was so very nice.) She told me I could just come back and pay them later! $6.20! Pay another day. She wrote my first name, just "Gina" on a tiny piece of paper with the words "owes $6.20". I was so shocked and grateful, I said, tomorrow. She said, Whenever you can get here.
Now ain't that a nice spot of sunshine?
So. Tonight, after Nate's swimming meet, I was driving home down Main Street and saw Barb's Pasties. It was a place I'd never been to, but years ago I had a patient from the U.P. tell me that Barb's is the best for authentic Yooper Pasties. Back then I worked and frequented that side of town but I never took the opportunity to try Barb's Pasties. Now, with my automobile woes of the past year I've tended to stay closer to home and had not been in that city for quite some time.
Again, if I were not acting as the lone parent, this probably would not have happened the way it did tonight. First of all, the dance class I'd signed Grace up to do on Saturdays was cancelled. The only other dance classes available were on Tuesdays at 5:30pm or Thursdays at 6pm. Nate's swim meets are also on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 6pm. I love watching Nate swim, and my nephew, too. Grace tolerates it. The dance class was a Christmas gift and something she's been asking to do for sooo long. She must tolerate having her dad live 7 states away AND riding along in the car during the weeks that it's my turn to drive the boys to and from swimming practice and meets. (She begs me to just let her stay home-she's six, so that'll never happen.) It's literally an hour and a half out of her (our) day just for the car part alone and that's just on practice days. On meet days it's a longer time spent in the car--plus the meet itself. To tell Grace that her ballet class was cancelled and that she'd have to wait months from now to join a different one? (I checked) Absolutely not.
So she recently started a half-hour ballet class that starts at 5:30 on Tuesdays. And it's not like I can watch Grace in her dance class; the doors are closed and parents sit and wait in the hall. So I read or write. Since I don't have my husband readily available to share the logistics of it, I was driving my own car, "The Jeep" (not really my own, it's technically my mom's), instead of having Cheri drive us like usual to the away meets. So when I saw Barb's I decided to pull right in to finally try those pasties.
Well, they have subs and pizza and dessert items, too. I got pasties for Nate and me, but Grace wanted something different. She decided on a sub. The bill came to $14.20. I went to grab my credit card and realized I'd forgotten to ask if they accepted them. It was a small, family-run place, I just had a sudden feeling that they only accepted cash and I was right. Well, no, not completely right: they take personal checks, too. But no credit or debit. I had exactly $8 in my purse. I had just emptied the bigger bills I'd won this weekend at Joel's mom's house in some friendly games of 4-5-6 and Screw Your Neighbor. (We played a total of 7 rounds: four games of 4-5-6 at $3/round and three games of the Neighborly one at $1 each. Nate or I won all 7 pots!) But isn't it strange that I just emptied the bills out of my purse today...?
Do you know what that nice lady said to me? (It wasn't Barb, but she was so very nice.) She told me I could just come back and pay them later! $6.20! Pay another day. She wrote my first name, just "Gina" on a tiny piece of paper with the words "owes $6.20". I was so shocked and grateful, I said, tomorrow. She said, Whenever you can get here.
Now ain't that a nice spot of sunshine?
Monday, January 18, 2010
The Power of One
One person can make a difference in our world. Like Martin Luther King, Jr.'s nonviolent activism during the African-American civil rights movement in our country (and he was inspired by Gandhi...); or, on a smaller scale, celebrities like George Clooney organizing a fundraising event for the people of Haiti; or, Ellen Degeneres reaching out to her viewers that are struggling financially; or, on an even smaller scale, but no less important, people like teachers and parents that make a difference in kids' lives everyday; one person, even one single parent, can make a difference in our world by acknowledging our interconnections to others with the simple or not-so-simple acts they initiate and follow through with everyday.
We all have the power to make a difference in our world on any scale. Acting as a single-parent, we have the unique opportunity to know implicitly, that we can do our daily work, pay the bills, run the household, raise our kids, and in our spare time, maybe even save the world, one person, one connection at a time.
We all have the power to make a difference in our world on any scale. Acting as a single-parent, we have the unique opportunity to know implicitly, that we can do our daily work, pay the bills, run the household, raise our kids, and in our spare time, maybe even save the world, one person, one connection at a time.
Friday, January 15, 2010
We See You Haiti and We Will Not Forget
I don't know why I didn't think of this 2 days ago; Wednesday morning when I saw the news of Haiti on my home page I immediately clicked to the links that led to the donation sites and chose Red Cross International to offer financial support. Yet, still, I felt like there was more I could do. All day thoughts of going down to Haiti to offer my services as a nurse ran through my head. Of course I couldn't do that with 2 kids at home and no second parent at home(Nathan's dad lives here, but it would not be feasible for him to take over care of Grace for me.). Then I briefly, but not seriously, played with the idea of taking Nathan and Grace with me. If Grace were older, maybe I would seriously consider it, but she's too young. In the meantime I've been sending them healing Reiki energy; but still, I wondered what else could I do?
Each day I asked Nate and Grace if they talked about it at school and each day the answer was no. So today I talked to Nathan about our connectedness to all people and living things. He's heard me talk about our interconnections many times, but I encouraged him to donate some of his saved money to Haiti this time. He did and then it hit me: I can encourage the readers of this blog to donate what they can. I can facilitate donations by posting links to helpful websites.
Maybe you've already donated. But I say, if you can, give a little more. Even five or ten dollars can make a difference. Maybe you are reading this a week or a month or 6 months after it happened; I'll bet they still need help. Just give what you can and then remember them again later when it's not all over the news and radio and computer home pages, and give again. Also remember that blood is a commodity that is always needed. Right now, the Red Cross is not asking for blood donors specifically for Haiti, but there is always a need. Especially for types O and B negative. If it's been awhile since you've donated blood or if you never have, now would be an excellent time to do it. Whatever we may be going through acting as a single-parent, for most of us, it does not begin to compare to what the Haitians are going through now and probably for years to come.
Here are 3 helpful links: http://www.whitehouse.gov/
http://www.redcross.org/
www.cidi.org
To borrow a phrase from James Cameron's Avatar (which I have not seen yet, but Nathan has and Grace and I will soon), we see you, people of Haiti.
Peace, love, and light to all of you.
Each day I asked Nate and Grace if they talked about it at school and each day the answer was no. So today I talked to Nathan about our connectedness to all people and living things. He's heard me talk about our interconnections many times, but I encouraged him to donate some of his saved money to Haiti this time. He did and then it hit me: I can encourage the readers of this blog to donate what they can. I can facilitate donations by posting links to helpful websites.
Maybe you've already donated. But I say, if you can, give a little more. Even five or ten dollars can make a difference. Maybe you are reading this a week or a month or 6 months after it happened; I'll bet they still need help. Just give what you can and then remember them again later when it's not all over the news and radio and computer home pages, and give again. Also remember that blood is a commodity that is always needed. Right now, the Red Cross is not asking for blood donors specifically for Haiti, but there is always a need. Especially for types O and B negative. If it's been awhile since you've donated blood or if you never have, now would be an excellent time to do it. Whatever we may be going through acting as a single-parent, for most of us, it does not begin to compare to what the Haitians are going through now and probably for years to come.
Here are 3 helpful links: http://www.whitehouse.gov/
http://www.redcross.org/
www.cidi.org
To borrow a phrase from James Cameron's Avatar (which I have not seen yet, but Nathan has and Grace and I will soon), we see you, people of Haiti.
Peace, love, and light to all of you.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Snoring
Need I say more?
Well, if you are a single-parent and you have a child, dog, or cat that sometimes crawls into your bed at night, and they snore...well...at least it's not every night, right? And they're probably not as loud as your absent lover. Our son, our daughter, and our beagle all snore, occasionally. Our beagle is the loudest and snores the most...when Joel's not here. But most nights she's in Nathan's room and he sleeps right through it.
Always remembering the little things to be thankful for when life seems so overwhelming. (-;
Well, if you are a single-parent and you have a child, dog, or cat that sometimes crawls into your bed at night, and they snore...well...at least it's not every night, right? And they're probably not as loud as your absent lover. Our son, our daughter, and our beagle all snore, occasionally. Our beagle is the loudest and snores the most...when Joel's not here. But most nights she's in Nathan's room and he sleeps right through it.
Always remembering the little things to be thankful for when life seems so overwhelming. (-;
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Control of the TV Remote
Both my husband and I grew up in homes where the TV was a constant companion...whether anyone was paying attention or not. For some reason, he grew up to be the same way and I grew up to be the opposite. Granted, he's not as attched as my dad was, or as his mom is, but when he's home, the TV is on least 50% more often than when he is not home. So I have to say (sorry Honey, but I must) that I love having control of the remote when he's not here.
In most cases, I'd rather read than watch TV. And I'd rather my kids be reading (or playing outside, or playing board games, or cards, or wrestling, or dancing to Nate's piano playing, or playing our nighttime favorite: hide-and-go-seek-in-the-dark...all of which I also participate in...not the wrestling as much). We have so much fun together!
Not to say that we never watch TV. We do. And we enjoy the downtime together: sitting all cozy on the couch, but when it's just me as the parent, I get to choose the shows we watch. (whoo-hoo! No more all evening marathons of Law and Order--it can be so depressing and never good for Grace to watch and she doesn't, but if Joel is, then they're not interacting; and Myth Busters--I can't get over the wastefulness on that show...) six months ago we didn't have access to any TV because we didn't have cable and we'd cancelled our satellite for the past 2 years to save money. But when Joel was to come home briefly, last summer, for the first time since starting his new job, I wanted to surprise him with TV reception so I signed up for one of those internet/phone/TV deals which happened to include DVR. The DVR thing was a bonus that I knew my son and Joel would appreciate, but as a person who watches little TV, I also appreciate it greatly.
My three TV shows of choice are Ellen, So You Think You Can Dance, and Jeopardy!. The kids enjoy laughing and dancing (well, only Grace and I dance) with Ellen. She reinforces what I teach my kids: be generous to all and to have fun while doing it. So You Think You Can Dance is a show that I decided to try when we first got this DVR thing because I LOVE to dance and watch dancing, and I love the show. It's doing great things for dance and the arts. And Jeopardy! is a long-time family favorite (my dad, my sister Cheri, and me all love trivia games and shows). So I get to watch the shows of my choosing without having the TV on all day or all night long.
In general, when Grace watches TV, it is something from PBS or Animal Planet. Nathan enjoys the animal and nature and discovery type shows, but he likes to watch my 3 shows, too (and reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond). But the bottom line for me is that we're not watching or having it on every minute we're here as sometimes happens when my beloved is home.
So to me, having control of the remote is definately a benefit of being a single-parent. (Although, I have to say, really, Nathan controls it, he says I'm too slow at FF through the commercials, and that's fine by me.)
In most cases, I'd rather read than watch TV. And I'd rather my kids be reading (or playing outside, or playing board games, or cards, or wrestling, or dancing to Nate's piano playing, or playing our nighttime favorite: hide-and-go-seek-in-the-dark...all of which I also participate in...not the wrestling as much). We have so much fun together!
Not to say that we never watch TV. We do. And we enjoy the downtime together: sitting all cozy on the couch, but when it's just me as the parent, I get to choose the shows we watch. (whoo-hoo! No more all evening marathons of Law and Order--it can be so depressing and never good for Grace to watch and she doesn't, but if Joel is, then they're not interacting; and Myth Busters--I can't get over the wastefulness on that show...) six months ago we didn't have access to any TV because we didn't have cable and we'd cancelled our satellite for the past 2 years to save money. But when Joel was to come home briefly, last summer, for the first time since starting his new job, I wanted to surprise him with TV reception so I signed up for one of those internet/phone/TV deals which happened to include DVR. The DVR thing was a bonus that I knew my son and Joel would appreciate, but as a person who watches little TV, I also appreciate it greatly.
My three TV shows of choice are Ellen, So You Think You Can Dance, and Jeopardy!. The kids enjoy laughing and dancing (well, only Grace and I dance) with Ellen. She reinforces what I teach my kids: be generous to all and to have fun while doing it. So You Think You Can Dance is a show that I decided to try when we first got this DVR thing because I LOVE to dance and watch dancing, and I love the show. It's doing great things for dance and the arts. And Jeopardy! is a long-time family favorite (my dad, my sister Cheri, and me all love trivia games and shows). So I get to watch the shows of my choosing without having the TV on all day or all night long.
In general, when Grace watches TV, it is something from PBS or Animal Planet. Nathan enjoys the animal and nature and discovery type shows, but he likes to watch my 3 shows, too (and reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond). But the bottom line for me is that we're not watching or having it on every minute we're here as sometimes happens when my beloved is home.
So to me, having control of the remote is definately a benefit of being a single-parent. (Although, I have to say, really, Nathan controls it, he says I'm too slow at FF through the commercials, and that's fine by me.)
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Going With the Flow
When you're a single parent you can change dinner plans without notifying anyone at all.
Last night, after dropping Nate and my nephew at the high school for swimming practice, and after Grace and I ran an errand, she saw a McDonald's and asked if we could stop in to eat dinner and play. Even though I had spent four hours on Sunday chopping, mixing, pouring, and preparing three different dinners for the week, and even though I don't really eat anything at McDonald's except the fries--I said, "That sounds like fun, Grace. Why not?" The boys' practice didn't let out until 7:15pm so that gave us an hour and 15 minutes to eat, play, and be merry.
I got to watch Gracie patiently guide a slightly younger and nervous girl through the wobbly tunnels up high, over and over. "One more time, please!" The girl would say, and Grace unwaveringly obliged with a smile in her whole being.
After about 15 minutes, Grace tried, "You're doing so good. I think you're ready for the bigger one. Want to try?"
"No! No, the shorter one! The shorter one!" So Grace continued helping her through the shorter tunnels (up equally as high--go figure) until the girl had to go home.
Later, two more girls, slightly older than Grace, came to play. I got to watch the three of them giggle and run and climb and slide as they played effortlessly together. I got to exchange sneaky, silent looks and laughs with my daughter while she hid in her super-excellent spot under the lime-green stairs and, as usual with her new McDonald's Playplace friends, they could not find her without finally asking her to call out a clue. It happens every time; for some reason the kids never think to look under the stairs. And then the next thing that happens every time, and these girls were no different, is that the other kids will try to hide in the same spot and can't understand how the seeker found them so quickly. It's the little things that amuse me.
When one of the older girls suggested that they play "house" I briefly wondered if their would be a disagreement because Grace immediately called out, "Okay! I'll be the mom!" Grace is always the mom. But no, the other two almost as quickly called, "I'll be the baby!" and "I'll be the big sister!" Isn't it great just to go with the flow?
Last night, after dropping Nate and my nephew at the high school for swimming practice, and after Grace and I ran an errand, she saw a McDonald's and asked if we could stop in to eat dinner and play. Even though I had spent four hours on Sunday chopping, mixing, pouring, and preparing three different dinners for the week, and even though I don't really eat anything at McDonald's except the fries--I said, "That sounds like fun, Grace. Why not?" The boys' practice didn't let out until 7:15pm so that gave us an hour and 15 minutes to eat, play, and be merry.
I got to watch Gracie patiently guide a slightly younger and nervous girl through the wobbly tunnels up high, over and over. "One more time, please!" The girl would say, and Grace unwaveringly obliged with a smile in her whole being.
After about 15 minutes, Grace tried, "You're doing so good. I think you're ready for the bigger one. Want to try?"
"No! No, the shorter one! The shorter one!" So Grace continued helping her through the shorter tunnels (up equally as high--go figure) until the girl had to go home.
Later, two more girls, slightly older than Grace, came to play. I got to watch the three of them giggle and run and climb and slide as they played effortlessly together. I got to exchange sneaky, silent looks and laughs with my daughter while she hid in her super-excellent spot under the lime-green stairs and, as usual with her new McDonald's Playplace friends, they could not find her without finally asking her to call out a clue. It happens every time; for some reason the kids never think to look under the stairs. And then the next thing that happens every time, and these girls were no different, is that the other kids will try to hide in the same spot and can't understand how the seeker found them so quickly. It's the little things that amuse me.
When one of the older girls suggested that they play "house" I briefly wondered if their would be a disagreement because Grace immediately called out, "Okay! I'll be the mom!" Grace is always the mom. But no, the other two almost as quickly called, "I'll be the baby!" and "I'll be the big sister!" Isn't it great just to go with the flow?
Monday, January 11, 2010
Nater-Tater/TermiNater/Sha-Nay-Nay
Or just Nate.
From birth my son, Nathan was a quiet and introspective child. And from birth he's been a comedian among those he feels most comfortable; the numbers are probably less than 10. As a very young student, Nate would often come home and tell me that the kids in his class made another comment to him about how he "never talks". Despite his severe shyness, he has always been self-aware enough to find the humor and irony in the picture that his teachers and classmates had of him, even at the young age of 7. At home he is always a clown. His teachers would be shocked. So would his classmates. He was voted "Nicest Boy" in the Eighth Grade Mock Elections and he deserved it, but I am here to say that Nathan does have an evil side to him. Mmwwha-Hahaha!
On Sunday, we were playing school: Grace was the teacher and Nathan and I were the students. Though I acted as a perfect student, Nate did not. It started when Gracie suddenly yelled, "Na-THAN!"
From Nate: (snicker-snickering and feigning innocence) "What did I do?" (At that point I still didn't know what he had done to rattle her cage.)
"You're staring at your pencil like a nuthead!"
Next she gave us a writing assignment. Again, as I was studiously doing as the teacher said, I was suddenly made aware of the steam coming from my daughter's nose and ears as she silently gave Nate the evil-eye with her hands on her hips. Nathan said matter-of-factly: "Not everybody has nice handwriting." And he continued to write while holding the pencil by the very top, near the eraser.
"WHY are you WRITING like that? You're MAKING yourself have bad handwriting!"
Later, I can't remember exactly what he had done, but in an attempt to intimidate her disruptive student, Grace had climbed up on a stool to stand over Nathan who sat at his "desk". She said nothing, but her stoney silence didn't last long because Nate didn't miss a beat; he asked: "Did you just get shorter?"
"NATH-AN!!"
(more snickering from the evil big brother) "Miss MEIN-E-MA!!"
And on it went for another 20 minutes. She's so easy. She is the intense dancing fire and he is the calm blue sea.
Of course, being Nate's mom I get to see that real side of him on a daily basis. Acting as a single-mom, I am privy to a side of him that he only shows if he is in the right frame of mind and under certain conditions. One such condition is when he knows that we can chat uninterrupted after Grace has fallen asleep. (I can't say "gone to bed" because that means nothing--it could be another hour or 2 before she finally falls asleep.)
Though he has always been a clown, Nate has never been a big talker. Partially because of his difficulties with emoting in public, Nathan is far from a typical teenaged boy. For instance, he's never demonstrated a competetive edge in anything, be it academics, sports, music, or art. He excels in all areas, and there's no question that he has a passion for learning in all areas, but still, extracurricular/team sports have always been his achilles heel. As I said, he is very athletic and he does exceedingly well in all of his P.E. classes, but put him on a team and he freezes up.
I believe that if we are afraid of something , we need to expose ourselves to it more and more or practice it more and more until we wonder what we were afraid of in the first place. (Hence, one reason I started this blog.) Nathan knows that and he actually agrees. So in 7th and 8th grades we "made" him take the 6 week swim clinic offered for free by the high school swim coaches. Both times he didn't want to do it, and both times he really enjoyed it by the end. Swimming is the perfect team sport for him because he doesn't have to hear or see "everyone looking at (him)" as he does his part to help the team. Also, the coaches are great and the swimmers are a such a nice group of kids, that even the social aspects of it are perfect for Nate's personality.
So by the middle of the 8th grade clinic, we (his dad, Joel, me, my sisters, his cousin, the coaches...) were all encouraging Nathan to join the high school team in 9th grade. He was adamant that he would not. He basically said that he did what we'd asked of him by doing the swim clinic both years and could he just be done now? But he was a natural at the freestyle; so graceful and fast, we knew he would do well and we thought it would bring him out of his shell a bit, socially. But we backed off. We knew he just needed space to see clearly for himself. By the last week of the clinic, he told me he was going to join the high shcool swim team for 9th grade.
When the start of the season rolled around this past November, he was regretting his choice because of the intense feelings of nervousness he was experiencing the week before it started. Of course I made him keep his word and I talked him down a few times when he was actually making himself sick to his stomach thinking about it. I reminded him of how much he enjoyed the meets at the end of the last clinic. He knew and sure enough, by the end of the first week of practice, he was completely fine with it again. Still not passionate about it, but as the weeks have passed, he's become more and more animated when talking about swimming. And then Saturday night, out of the blue, he said, "I'm getting a 26 on Tuesday, Mom."
I was thrown. We were watching a movie that had just gone to commercial. "Twenty-six?"
"For the 50."
And I knew. And I felt so happy for him. And I felt so priveledged to witness the spark that lit within him. He was letting me in on his rising determination to challenge himself as a swimmer. His best time for the 50 yard free-style is 27.46 seconds, with a consistant time of 28-something. So he was telling me that he is passionate about swimming. He's finally ready to put his heart into it. He admitted that sometimes in a race, after he dives in he forgets that he is supposed to be going his fastest (hopefully Coach never reads this) and that he is sure now that he can do much better if he makes himself go as fast as he can the entire race. He said that he doesn't mean to (forget) and that it hasn't happened often but he also says he is not completely winded after a race so he knows he can push himself to go faster. Also, he has a beautiful head of wavey dark hair that he has asked me to cut extra short to possibly improve his times. Today at practice, he asked Coach if he could have a team swim cap for the meet tomorrow while he still has his full head of hair.
These past 2 days he's been talking a lot about swimming and his personal challenges and goals. While he's a natural at the free, he has a very long way to go in getting the other strokes down and he knows it. He's finally ready and eager to practice hard.
Being a single-mom gives me more opportunity to share one-on-one time with my son and that allows him the freedom and comfort to say what he needs to say. I am honored and grateful to be the one he chooses to open up to. I can't wait for the world to meet the Nathan that I know.
From birth my son, Nathan was a quiet and introspective child. And from birth he's been a comedian among those he feels most comfortable; the numbers are probably less than 10. As a very young student, Nate would often come home and tell me that the kids in his class made another comment to him about how he "never talks". Despite his severe shyness, he has always been self-aware enough to find the humor and irony in the picture that his teachers and classmates had of him, even at the young age of 7. At home he is always a clown. His teachers would be shocked. So would his classmates. He was voted "Nicest Boy" in the Eighth Grade Mock Elections and he deserved it, but I am here to say that Nathan does have an evil side to him. Mmwwha-Hahaha!
On Sunday, we were playing school: Grace was the teacher and Nathan and I were the students. Though I acted as a perfect student, Nate did not. It started when Gracie suddenly yelled, "Na-THAN!"
From Nate: (snicker-snickering and feigning innocence) "What did I do?" (At that point I still didn't know what he had done to rattle her cage.)
"You're staring at your pencil like a nuthead!"
Next she gave us a writing assignment. Again, as I was studiously doing as the teacher said, I was suddenly made aware of the steam coming from my daughter's nose and ears as she silently gave Nate the evil-eye with her hands on her hips. Nathan said matter-of-factly: "Not everybody has nice handwriting." And he continued to write while holding the pencil by the very top, near the eraser.
"WHY are you WRITING like that? You're MAKING yourself have bad handwriting!"
Later, I can't remember exactly what he had done, but in an attempt to intimidate her disruptive student, Grace had climbed up on a stool to stand over Nathan who sat at his "desk". She said nothing, but her stoney silence didn't last long because Nate didn't miss a beat; he asked: "Did you just get shorter?"
"NATH-AN!!"
(more snickering from the evil big brother) "Miss MEIN-E-MA!!"
And on it went for another 20 minutes. She's so easy. She is the intense dancing fire and he is the calm blue sea.
Of course, being Nate's mom I get to see that real side of him on a daily basis. Acting as a single-mom, I am privy to a side of him that he only shows if he is in the right frame of mind and under certain conditions. One such condition is when he knows that we can chat uninterrupted after Grace has fallen asleep. (I can't say "gone to bed" because that means nothing--it could be another hour or 2 before she finally falls asleep.)
Though he has always been a clown, Nate has never been a big talker. Partially because of his difficulties with emoting in public, Nathan is far from a typical teenaged boy. For instance, he's never demonstrated a competetive edge in anything, be it academics, sports, music, or art. He excels in all areas, and there's no question that he has a passion for learning in all areas, but still, extracurricular/team sports have always been his achilles heel. As I said, he is very athletic and he does exceedingly well in all of his P.E. classes, but put him on a team and he freezes up.
I believe that if we are afraid of something , we need to expose ourselves to it more and more or practice it more and more until we wonder what we were afraid of in the first place. (Hence, one reason I started this blog.) Nathan knows that and he actually agrees. So in 7th and 8th grades we "made" him take the 6 week swim clinic offered for free by the high school swim coaches. Both times he didn't want to do it, and both times he really enjoyed it by the end. Swimming is the perfect team sport for him because he doesn't have to hear or see "everyone looking at (him)" as he does his part to help the team. Also, the coaches are great and the swimmers are a such a nice group of kids, that even the social aspects of it are perfect for Nate's personality.
So by the middle of the 8th grade clinic, we (his dad, Joel, me, my sisters, his cousin, the coaches...) were all encouraging Nathan to join the high school team in 9th grade. He was adamant that he would not. He basically said that he did what we'd asked of him by doing the swim clinic both years and could he just be done now? But he was a natural at the freestyle; so graceful and fast, we knew he would do well and we thought it would bring him out of his shell a bit, socially. But we backed off. We knew he just needed space to see clearly for himself. By the last week of the clinic, he told me he was going to join the high shcool swim team for 9th grade.
When the start of the season rolled around this past November, he was regretting his choice because of the intense feelings of nervousness he was experiencing the week before it started. Of course I made him keep his word and I talked him down a few times when he was actually making himself sick to his stomach thinking about it. I reminded him of how much he enjoyed the meets at the end of the last clinic. He knew and sure enough, by the end of the first week of practice, he was completely fine with it again. Still not passionate about it, but as the weeks have passed, he's become more and more animated when talking about swimming. And then Saturday night, out of the blue, he said, "I'm getting a 26 on Tuesday, Mom."
I was thrown. We were watching a movie that had just gone to commercial. "Twenty-six?"
"For the 50."
And I knew. And I felt so happy for him. And I felt so priveledged to witness the spark that lit within him. He was letting me in on his rising determination to challenge himself as a swimmer. His best time for the 50 yard free-style is 27.46 seconds, with a consistant time of 28-something. So he was telling me that he is passionate about swimming. He's finally ready to put his heart into it. He admitted that sometimes in a race, after he dives in he forgets that he is supposed to be going his fastest (hopefully Coach never reads this) and that he is sure now that he can do much better if he makes himself go as fast as he can the entire race. He said that he doesn't mean to (forget) and that it hasn't happened often but he also says he is not completely winded after a race so he knows he can push himself to go faster. Also, he has a beautiful head of wavey dark hair that he has asked me to cut extra short to possibly improve his times. Today at practice, he asked Coach if he could have a team swim cap for the meet tomorrow while he still has his full head of hair.
These past 2 days he's been talking a lot about swimming and his personal challenges and goals. While he's a natural at the free, he has a very long way to go in getting the other strokes down and he knows it. He's finally ready and eager to practice hard.
Being a single-mom gives me more opportunity to share one-on-one time with my son and that allows him the freedom and comfort to say what he needs to say. I am honored and grateful to be the one he chooses to open up to. I can't wait for the world to meet the Nathan that I know.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Gracie
Tonight as my kids and I got ready to play UNO at the kitchen table, my 6 year old, Grace decided she was going to fix a snack using the biscuits I had baked earlier (for fresh strawberry shortcake, mmmm!...but I always use homemade biscuits instead of shortcake). When she was done, she asked me if I would put the jars of jam away because her hands were all sticky. I told her that part of volunteering to make a snack (that neither my 14 year old, Nathan, nor I wanted since we'd just had the strawberry shortcake an hour earlier; but hey, she's 6 and it's our "Silly Saturday", so we suck it up) included cleaning up after yourself. She was already in the process of washing her hands as I spoke, so her response was, "Well, my hands are all wet. I don't want the jars to slip."
"Dry your hands then!" Nathan and I replied quite reasonably and in unison. So she did. She can't help herself, really. She's a natural born debater; once she has an idea in her head she must prove her point to anyone who will listen. She's been that way since she could speak. But she wants to do the right thing...she just wants everyone else to see that her way is the right way.
She quickly wiped her hands on the dish towel and grabbed the two small jars of jam. Meanwhile, Nathan had turned on some U2 for our listening pleasure during our card game. Out of nowhere, it was like the boogie-fever spirits took over Gracie's little body: her hips and head swung from side to side, her legs bounced up and down as she bebopped her way to the frige, she called out in a helpless tone, "But he's got music on, and I always want to dance to the music!"
She would make a great lawyer. A very happy lawyer. When I put her to bed tonight, she was smiling and smiling while lying in bed waiting for me to tuck her in. She informed me, "I'm having a smiling contest with my flower." She has a little pink and yellow stuffed flower hanging upsidedown with its smiling face looking right at her as she rests her head on her pillow each night.
I got into the bed next to her to smile up at the flower, too, "Well. This is a fun contest."
She replied through her teeth, "Yeah, I think she's going to win."
I get to be with her everyday to witness her antics and hear her dialogue first-hand. I'd say I'm pretty lucky.
"Dry your hands then!" Nathan and I replied quite reasonably and in unison. So she did. She can't help herself, really. She's a natural born debater; once she has an idea in her head she must prove her point to anyone who will listen. She's been that way since she could speak. But she wants to do the right thing...she just wants everyone else to see that her way is the right way.
She quickly wiped her hands on the dish towel and grabbed the two small jars of jam. Meanwhile, Nathan had turned on some U2 for our listening pleasure during our card game. Out of nowhere, it was like the boogie-fever spirits took over Gracie's little body: her hips and head swung from side to side, her legs bounced up and down as she bebopped her way to the frige, she called out in a helpless tone, "But he's got music on, and I always want to dance to the music!"
She would make a great lawyer. A very happy lawyer. When I put her to bed tonight, she was smiling and smiling while lying in bed waiting for me to tuck her in. She informed me, "I'm having a smiling contest with my flower." She has a little pink and yellow stuffed flower hanging upsidedown with its smiling face looking right at her as she rests her head on her pillow each night.
I got into the bed next to her to smile up at the flower, too, "Well. This is a fun contest."
She replied through her teeth, "Yeah, I think she's going to win."
I get to be with her everyday to witness her antics and hear her dialogue first-hand. I'd say I'm pretty lucky.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Productive Exercises
With my hubby gone for more than a year now, I get to do a lot more shoveling than usual. You may think that's a bad thing, but let's review: When done properly, with good form, shoveling is an excellent way to build muscle in the gluteal, thigh, arm, back, and shoulder areas. Shoveling snow also gets the heart rate going, so that if you do it for at least 15 minutes without stopping, it can be a superb way to burn a little extra winter fat. When your heart rate increases, so does your breathing; what better way to wake your body and soul than to be aware of your breath? You can't help but notice it coming out in puffs of fog all around your head as you scrape and lift, scrape and lift, don't forget to bend those knees...scrape and lift...If it's a particularly starry night or sunny morning (or starry early, early morning), when you're finished shoveling, (or in the middle of shoveling, depending on the size of the area you're shoveling and whether or not you care about the 15 minute thing) you could pause to gaze up at the sky and trees around you. You could be still with your face tilted skyward no matter what kind of day or night it is; maybe it looks all white with big, heavy flakes of snow falling. You could try catching one on your tongue. You could listen to the quiet tranquility that always comes after a snowfall. Or, you may have to listen to the other shovelers scraping away or the snow blowers blowing away. But you are aware of the insulated, more muffled sound they make. You could inhale deeply that crisp wintery air. Smile. Center. Relax. Feel good about the productive work you've done not only for your body, but for your mind and soul. Fifteen minutes just to yourself.
See? Shoveling's not so bad. And as a single-parent I get to do more of it and I am thankful.
See? Shoveling's not so bad. And as a single-parent I get to do more of it and I am thankful.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Thanking My Goddaughter
I'm feeling pretty haggard right now so I'll keep it extra short. (I need to start doing this in the daytime before my regular writing...)
There was a little snow storm today. Not much of anything for these parts, but it began right around 3:30pm, just in time to make rush-hour traffic pretty much a fixed situation. Jen works about 30-40 (?) miles from home so knew it would take her forever and a day to get her 3 year old and get her oldest, before 6pm when the clock starts to tick for late fees. Normally, on Thursdays I pick her daughter up from the latchkey at our school, but today I needed rush right after school in order to get my son and nephew to swimming; they had picture day before their normal practice before the meet.
After dropping them off I decided to grab Jen's oldest on the way home...I didn't make this short did I?...I wanted to let you in on why I had both girls...but does it matter? I'm too tired to really know.
So I ended up taking both girls to the swimming meet because Jen was still miles and miles (and miles and miles--now I'm singing The Who...oh, yeah--) away and still hadn't reached her youngest daughter by 5:30 and the meet started at 6. So there we were. And you know what? I think for the first time ever, my little ball of energy actually sat still for possibly the first 2o minutes of the meet to watch her brother and cousin swim! I give my goddaughter all the credit.
I don't know why I'm not using their names...at least my kids...since Jen doesn't know about this site yet, I can't ask her how she'd feel if I used her kids' names...
Jen's daughter and my daughter are opposite in so many ways (much like Jen and me) yet they complement each other so well (much like Jen and me). Tonight was a perfect example: my goddaughter got my blooddaughter to sit calmly and really pay attention to the races. It was so significant. I let out a little thank you to the spirits both for letting me witness it and for giving me something to write about today. (Because if Joel were here...you know it by now, right? It probably wouldn't have happened that way because the girls would have stayed home with him.)
One more day, one more benefit of being a single-parent. Thank you, Mac. Peace.
There was a little snow storm today. Not much of anything for these parts, but it began right around 3:30pm, just in time to make rush-hour traffic pretty much a fixed situation. Jen works about 30-40 (?) miles from home so knew it would take her forever and a day to get her 3 year old and get her oldest, before 6pm when the clock starts to tick for late fees. Normally, on Thursdays I pick her daughter up from the latchkey at our school, but today I needed rush right after school in order to get my son and nephew to swimming; they had picture day before their normal practice before the meet.
After dropping them off I decided to grab Jen's oldest on the way home...I didn't make this short did I?...I wanted to let you in on why I had both girls...but does it matter? I'm too tired to really know.
So I ended up taking both girls to the swimming meet because Jen was still miles and miles (and miles and miles--now I'm singing The Who...oh, yeah--) away and still hadn't reached her youngest daughter by 5:30 and the meet started at 6. So there we were. And you know what? I think for the first time ever, my little ball of energy actually sat still for possibly the first 2o minutes of the meet to watch her brother and cousin swim! I give my goddaughter all the credit.
I don't know why I'm not using their names...at least my kids...since Jen doesn't know about this site yet, I can't ask her how she'd feel if I used her kids' names...
Jen's daughter and my daughter are opposite in so many ways (much like Jen and me) yet they complement each other so well (much like Jen and me). Tonight was a perfect example: my goddaughter got my blooddaughter to sit calmly and really pay attention to the races. It was so significant. I let out a little thank you to the spirits both for letting me witness it and for giving me something to write about today. (Because if Joel were here...you know it by now, right? It probably wouldn't have happened that way because the girls would have stayed home with him.)
One more day, one more benefit of being a single-parent. Thank you, Mac. Peace.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Learning to Skate Along on Ice
Today my daughter and I went ice-skating. I've only tried it once or twice before, and my daughter has never done it. If Joel were here he would have taken her and I may or may not have gone. He loves to play ice-hockey and I know he would've loved to teach our daughter to skate, too. But today, I'm happy to say that I did it with her and we had fun. After only half an hour she was scooting along pretty quickly and by the end of an hour she and her friend we're doing a show for us (her friend's mom and me), dancing and turning on the ice.
She wants to go again tomorrow, but we have her brother's swim meet. Another day. I'm thinking we'll end up being regulars at the rink this winter. Whoo-Hoo!
It might be slippery and hard to balance sometimes, but look at what we can do when we stretch ourselves while we're acting as the single-parent?
She wants to go again tomorrow, but we have her brother's swim meet. Another day. I'm thinking we'll end up being regulars at the rink this winter. Whoo-Hoo!
It might be slippery and hard to balance sometimes, but look at what we can do when we stretch ourselves while we're acting as the single-parent?
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
One more note
I just wanted to say that I have told no one but my son and Joel about this site. On purpose. I say that because I want you to know that I will tell Cheri about my plan for us to go out (rather than depend upon her to read this blog). And also...I'm not sure...I just wanted to put it all out there about how unsure (?) I am...not ready to share-share...because once I tell people about it, then it will be read by...well, someone, because so far no one has read it and that's perfect for now. I'm just feeling naked and vulnerable, I guess. But I do want someone to read these eventually. I do truly hope to uplift some other wives or husbands, maybe those whose spouses work for the military or some other governmental branch of service that takes them far away from their families. I do hope to make someone smile and remember something or someone in their own lives to be thankful for. Namaste.
Cheri-Berry-Butt
Today I am thankful for my sister, Cheri. With Joel gone and with my dubious vehicle situation (a story for another day), she and her husband, Herbie have been a godsend. But this post is about Cheri and reconnecting as sisters.
Though she only lives 3 miles away, we had fallen into the habit of rarely connecting except on special occasions. During the last year and a half we've made an improvement by meeting for our monthly book club thanks to our other sister, Katie for starting it--but I've still had the urge to hook-up with Cheri alone, just to talk and laugh like old times.
We're 3 years apart and have very different personalities, but we were always close growing up. Our brother and sister didn't come along until 7 and 9 years after Cheri's day of birth, so we were Two for most of our young childhoods. We used to play for hours at a time. One of our favortie made-up games, and likely our most inane, was...do you know that I don't think we ever gave it a name...? (thinking, thinking...) No, I'm sure we didn't. That's how truly idiotic it was. It was a game we only played at night when we were supposed to be sleeping. It's a game that now, as adults, every five to seven years or so, when the mood is right, one of us will assume the position on the floor of whomever's house we're at; henceforth, sending the other one of us into fits of laughter as we commence playing our bumble-headed game while the rest of our family looks on in confounded curiosity or with regretful knowledge.
It went like this:
As we lay in our beds at night, one of us would raise all 4 limbs toward the ceiling like...a dead bug. Not like the yoga dead bug pose (aka happy baby pose) where you grasp your toes, but with our arms and legs sticking straight up. The object was for the other person to get all 4 limbs to stay down at the same time. (And I do have 2 college degrees with honors...but I didn't then.) So if Cheri had all 4 limbs up, I would start by pressing her arm down, then maybe a leg, then another arm, but at that point, Cheri might pop one or both of her arms back up and I would have to essentially start over. Sometimes we would use brute force by laying atop the playee to hold all 3 limbs down while grasping and pulling to get that last arm or leg to cooperate.
We had fun anyway.
So now, with Joel gone and with both of our oldest sons on the high shcool swim team (mine is in 9th grade, hers is in 10th), we've been seeing each other a LOT. And I love it. And again, I am so grateful to my sister and her husband for handling way more than half of the driving. The boys swim 6 days/week; having a 6 year old who would have nothing to do with any of her brother's swim meets or practices if given the choice, does not make any of it easy. But Cheri and Herbie do. (Jen is my other godsend, but to be told on another day.) And, incidentally, I shouldn't be so hard on my daughter; she's been great at the meets that she's forced to attend, it's the moaning and groaning about it beforehand that she needs to work on. But back to Cheri: she drives us both to every away meet which gives us more sisterly bonding time and saves me from having to use "The Jeep", our gas-guzzling family hand-me-down (see note above). My only wish is that we get together one day, no swimming or book club involved, just to talk and have lunch or something. So that's what I'll do. I'll invite her to pick a day for us to go out. I've been saying that to myself for at least a year, but now that I have this blog to put it out there, I know I will do it.
Thanks and good-night.
Though she only lives 3 miles away, we had fallen into the habit of rarely connecting except on special occasions. During the last year and a half we've made an improvement by meeting for our monthly book club thanks to our other sister, Katie for starting it--but I've still had the urge to hook-up with Cheri alone, just to talk and laugh like old times.
We're 3 years apart and have very different personalities, but we were always close growing up. Our brother and sister didn't come along until 7 and 9 years after Cheri's day of birth, so we were Two for most of our young childhoods. We used to play for hours at a time. One of our favortie made-up games, and likely our most inane, was...do you know that I don't think we ever gave it a name...? (thinking, thinking...) No, I'm sure we didn't. That's how truly idiotic it was. It was a game we only played at night when we were supposed to be sleeping. It's a game that now, as adults, every five to seven years or so, when the mood is right, one of us will assume the position on the floor of whomever's house we're at; henceforth, sending the other one of us into fits of laughter as we commence playing our bumble-headed game while the rest of our family looks on in confounded curiosity or with regretful knowledge.
It went like this:
As we lay in our beds at night, one of us would raise all 4 limbs toward the ceiling like...a dead bug. Not like the yoga dead bug pose (aka happy baby pose) where you grasp your toes, but with our arms and legs sticking straight up. The object was for the other person to get all 4 limbs to stay down at the same time. (And I do have 2 college degrees with honors...but I didn't then.) So if Cheri had all 4 limbs up, I would start by pressing her arm down, then maybe a leg, then another arm, but at that point, Cheri might pop one or both of her arms back up and I would have to essentially start over. Sometimes we would use brute force by laying atop the playee to hold all 3 limbs down while grasping and pulling to get that last arm or leg to cooperate.
We had fun anyway.
So now, with Joel gone and with both of our oldest sons on the high shcool swim team (mine is in 9th grade, hers is in 10th), we've been seeing each other a LOT. And I love it. And again, I am so grateful to my sister and her husband for handling way more than half of the driving. The boys swim 6 days/week; having a 6 year old who would have nothing to do with any of her brother's swim meets or practices if given the choice, does not make any of it easy. But Cheri and Herbie do. (Jen is my other godsend, but to be told on another day.) And, incidentally, I shouldn't be so hard on my daughter; she's been great at the meets that she's forced to attend, it's the moaning and groaning about it beforehand that she needs to work on. But back to Cheri: she drives us both to every away meet which gives us more sisterly bonding time and saves me from having to use "The Jeep", our gas-guzzling family hand-me-down (see note above). My only wish is that we get together one day, no swimming or book club involved, just to talk and have lunch or something. So that's what I'll do. I'll invite her to pick a day for us to go out. I've been saying that to myself for at least a year, but now that I have this blog to put it out there, I know I will do it.
Thanks and good-night.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Meatloaf and Growth
(July 2010 Note: The name of this website used to be "The Benefits of Being a Single-Parent Without the Benefits". It's a phrase my friend, Jen came up with [she later told me after reading this back then] and that I wanted to dispel. After writing a blog about sunspots, I kept thinking that THAT name was so much easier and more appropriate; it covered more ground [I would find myself trying to put a single-parent spin on everything] and might appeal to a broader audience. My goal was to reach people having difficulties, namely, military families and other families who are separated by large distances and for many days, weeks, months, or even years at a time. But I soon realized that not every single topic I wrote about had to be specifically about parenting; we are more than just a mom or dad aren't we? Yes. So, if you are new to reading this site, I just wanted to clarify references I make in this particular piece {and maybe others early on}. Oh, and the font is only tiny in this first blog (I can't fix it); later blogs are much easier on the eyes.)
For at least two years or more I've had friends and family suggest that I start blogging as a suppliment to my daily writings. Of course they all knew me well and would always start with the caveat, "I know you're really not into computers and email, but..." And the minute the word blogging fell from their lips, I would stomp it right out at their feet. But then three nights ago, I watched "Julie & Julia". I picked it because I love Meryl Streep, Julia Child, and Amy Adams, too. Also, food and cooking have always been my forte. Perfect. (I really had no idea that the "Julie" half of the story was about a writer who had not been practicing her passion.) Anyway, the movie spoke to me; I had the inkling that I needed to pay attention to the blogging aspect of it, yet I argued with myself, Why? What would I write about everyday that other people would want to read?
The idea of starting a blog stayed with me all the next day and into the night.
But I don't want to blog! I told myself.
At 3am, I lay awake pondering my fortune at having such a generous and thoughtful friend in my soulsister, Jen. The kids and I had returned from visiting my husband on a 1:30am flight on December 31 and came home to find a meatloaf, a bunch of bananas, bread, strawberries, a cucumber, and milk (both kinds: soy and regular) to tide us over until I could get to the store. She specifically picked my kids' favorite foods and she knew that I try my best to be a vegan, or , at the very least a vegetarian, hence the soy milk. That, on top of the fact that she came to our house almost daily to get mail, watch over and feed my son's fish and lizard, shovel snow if necessary, AND she kept our Incredible Barking Beagle, Daisy the whole 10 days we were gone. AND her husband does not like animals of any kind, so kudos to him for agreeing to keep Daisy safe and happy for us, too. As I thought of Jen and her simple acts of kindness, it hit me: I could blog about the benefits of being a "single-parent without the benefits"!
I'm not sure which of us first coined the "single-parent w/o the benefits" phrase, but it's something Jen and I refer to at times because I'm it. I'm the mom, the dad, the hide-and-go-seek player, the tickle-monster, the homework helper, the breakfast, dinner, and lunch-maker, the dish-doer, the polly-pockets player, you get the idea. I was a single-mom years ago when my son was 3; I was working and putting myself through nursing school, yet this choice, what my husband and I are doing now, has been much more difficult to work through, by far.
But that's not what this blog is about. We all know how wearisome it can be to be living apart from the person you love and raising your kids (who themselves are deeply affected by having their dad live far, far away...) mostly alone, to boot. This blog is about finding the bright spots in daily living. Like Jen and her meatloaf. Like friends who will care for your dog, even when one of them "can't stand all the hair" (and let's be honest, Beagles really don't shed very much, but to him it's enough to drive him crazy if it gets on his work suit). Like a gracious mom who finagles her work schedule so that she can be available and awake at 2am to pick you and your kids up from the airport.
Today is January 4, 2010--exactly one year after my husband, Joel, left on a plane at 5am marking the start of his new job and our new and complicated adventure that we call our life together. We have both grown leaps and bounds since he left and isn't that what life is all about?
For at least two years or more I've had friends and family suggest that I start blogging as a suppliment to my daily writings. Of course they all knew me well and would always start with the caveat, "I know you're really not into computers and email, but..." And the minute the word blogging fell from their lips, I would stomp it right out at their feet. But then three nights ago, I watched "Julie & Julia". I picked it because I love Meryl Streep, Julia Child, and Amy Adams, too. Also, food and cooking have always been my forte. Perfect. (I really had no idea that the "Julie" half of the story was about a writer who had not been practicing her passion.) Anyway, the movie spoke to me; I had the inkling that I needed to pay attention to the blogging aspect of it, yet I argued with myself, Why? What would I write about everyday that other people would want to read?
The idea of starting a blog stayed with me all the next day and into the night.
But I don't want to blog! I told myself.
At 3am, I lay awake pondering my fortune at having such a generous and thoughtful friend in my soulsister, Jen. The kids and I had returned from visiting my husband on a 1:30am flight on December 31 and came home to find a meatloaf, a bunch of bananas, bread, strawberries, a cucumber, and milk (both kinds: soy and regular) to tide us over until I could get to the store. She specifically picked my kids' favorite foods and she knew that I try my best to be a vegan, or , at the very least a vegetarian, hence the soy milk. That, on top of the fact that she came to our house almost daily to get mail, watch over and feed my son's fish and lizard, shovel snow if necessary, AND she kept our Incredible Barking Beagle, Daisy the whole 10 days we were gone. AND her husband does not like animals of any kind, so kudos to him for agreeing to keep Daisy safe and happy for us, too. As I thought of Jen and her simple acts of kindness, it hit me: I could blog about the benefits of being a "single-parent without the benefits"!
I'm not sure which of us first coined the "single-parent w/o the benefits" phrase, but it's something Jen and I refer to at times because I'm it. I'm the mom, the dad, the hide-and-go-seek player, the tickle-monster, the homework helper, the breakfast, dinner, and lunch-maker, the dish-doer, the polly-pockets player, you get the idea. I was a single-mom years ago when my son was 3; I was working and putting myself through nursing school, yet this choice, what my husband and I are doing now, has been much more difficult to work through, by far.
But that's not what this blog is about. We all know how wearisome it can be to be living apart from the person you love and raising your kids (who themselves are deeply affected by having their dad live far, far away...) mostly alone, to boot. This blog is about finding the bright spots in daily living. Like Jen and her meatloaf. Like friends who will care for your dog, even when one of them "can't stand all the hair" (and let's be honest, Beagles really don't shed very much, but to him it's enough to drive him crazy if it gets on his work suit). Like a gracious mom who finagles her work schedule so that she can be available and awake at 2am to pick you and your kids up from the airport.
Today is January 4, 2010--exactly one year after my husband, Joel, left on a plane at 5am marking the start of his new job and our new and complicated adventure that we call our life together. We have both grown leaps and bounds since he left and isn't that what life is all about?
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