Closure

Finally, after hours of trauma, the washing machine situation has been resolved.  Repairman #1, who would have charged $19.99 for the service call, regardless of outcome, told me over the phone that the machine was kaput, and he couldn't show up to confirm that until Tuesday.   I considered just buying another machine, but decided that I really had to know for sure that the machine (it was only 9  years old!) couldn't be fixed.

I belong to Angie's List, which by now is fairly well known nationwide.  Customers pay for access to Angie's reviews of service providers in the customers' area.  I decided to seek Repairman #2 who might be able to show up sooner than Tuesday to give me some answers.  Sure enough, I found another Repairman, one who showed up a few minutes ago, charging $69.99 for the service call.  (I'm just now figuring out that patience pays, or impatience costs.)

Repairman #2 confirmed that the washing machine was indeed dead beyond resuscitation.  (Repairs would cost more than the cost of a new washer, which I find shocking and disturbing.)  I fought back tears as i wrote out the check for $69.99.

The Child thought that I should physically shop for a new washer.  Really????  In this day and age, who actually shows up at a brick and mortar???  I went online, spent an hour, and ended up with what I think is an economical and reliable washing machine.  It will be delivered and installed on Wednesday, and the deceased will receive a proper burial, all free of charge.

I hereby put this matter to rest.

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Betty is undone

                                                                

 Why should I become completely undone over a broken down washing machine?  At first I thought I had done something wrong- overloaded it, not shut the door right, made the mistake of using hot water on the previous load.  I fussed with it.  Nothing.  I got out the owner's manual.  Nothing.  I consulted the internet.  Nothing.  I called my appliance repairman, and even though it's after houtrs, he called me back.  With bad news.

The first bad news is that he's unavailable until 5 days from now!  The second bad news is that based upon my description of the problem (it drains but doesn't spin) he thinks the computer is shot.  Repairs would cost hundreds and he thinks I need a new washer.

This washer is less than 9 years old!!??  (It's not a Maytag.)  Why should it be broken?  It's never been abused or mistreated or even moved!  A NINE YEAR lifespan?? Really??

But as I sit here drying up my tears, I have to wonder why I am so upset.  Granted, I just researched new washer prices and that's enough to make a grown man cry.  But there's more to this.....

I am realizing that I don't want to do laundry.  I want my mother to do it.  I am tired of being the adult all the time.  I want someone to do my laundry.

Just now I had a flashback to one of the stressful times during my early parenthood.  I had just moved, and the woman who, with her husband and kid, had just moved out of the house I bought, saw how stressed I was from doing  everything alone.  She offered to do my laundry.  I thought it was odd, but I was so moved by the offer of help that eagerly accepted.  She took my laundry basket up the street to her brother's house and returned an hour later with clean, folded laundry which was still warm.

So laundry has become symbolic to me.  I associate it, when it is problematic, with a kind and rare offer of assistance.  Now I am again in laundry crisis, yet nobody is stepping forward with outstretched arms.

I also associate it with my mother.  Until she died, I didn't do laundry.  She did it.  Always.  Nurturers do laundry.  Bottom line.

With a sense of detached resignation, I began doing my own laundry, with great frequency once The Child entered the picture.  I bought the machine best equipped to cover my needs with efficiency, never suspecting that it would serve me for a mere NINE YEARS.  During the  NINE YEARS since I bought this latest washer I didn't think about it- I accepted my duty and performed it adequately.

Now I have come undone.  Where is my mother?  Where is the kind-hearted soul who did my laundry after I moved?

I want to be taken care of by someone other than myself.  It's been a long time.

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planning a speech

I am planning a speech.  Not a typical speech by any means, but a speech designed to make a point very clearly.  I call it a speech because I'm not interested in any response, even though it will only be directed at 2 people.  (There will be several other people present who will not be addressed in this speech.)

Two weeks from today I will be forced into a small group to perform a work-related task.  My 2 targets are part of this group.  The reason I wish to address them is because their behavior over the past few months has been very harmful to the organization we work for, as well as hurtful to me individually.  These 2 were the first people I met when I moved here to take this job, and I've had to work closely with them during my entire adult life.  They used to be my friends.  I can't function in the small group which begins meeting 2 weeks from today while acting as if nothing happened.

These guys should have known better.  They've worked in this field for a long time, and their unrealistic insistence upon digging in their heels when changes needed to be made just created animosity and tension.  They were thwarting me personally; I was elected to a position of leadership, and they opposed my every move, sometimes openly, sometimes covertly.  They spent as much energy trying to undermine me as I did trying to save our workplace from shutting down.

I don't like to be negative but as I said, I can't pretend that what happened didn't happen.  I plan to say that I am angry at them for defying me while I bent over backwards to serve my colleagues.  I plan to inform them that their behavior was damaging to the whole and to the individual (me).  I'll say how difficult it is for me to work closely with them again now that this has happened.  I plan to say that their behavior has far-reaching consequences, one of which is the loss of my friendship, trust and respect.

I wish the speech didn't have to happen, but it does.

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Tuesday thoughts

I never used to think that there was anything negative or undesirable about being emotional, or having an emotional reaction to something.  Then last week I read the following post from a spiritual teacher on twitter:

"The more emotional energy you give to situations, the more you stop your spiritual growth."

It took me a few days to take that in and try to process it.  I had always thought that emotions were to be honored and expressed, lest they fester and create illness in the body. 

During my childhood, my family expressed emotions- negative emotions.  Positive or loving emotions were apparently embarrassing or taboo.  Anger was equated with power, dominance and even intelligence.  It's no wonder that I developed the notion that emotions- negative emotions- were desirable.

Yet my adult observations have shown that emotions can interfere with communication and effectiveness, a concept I found expressed eloquently on Surgit's blog:

It is possible to speak truth in anger.

When so done, people tend to hear the anger and not the truth.

It is possible to speak truth in arrogance.

When so done, people tend to hear the arrogance

and not the truth.

It is possible to speak truth in deceitful ways.

When so done, people tend to sense the deceit

and take the truth for more deceit.

It is possible to speak truth in loving kindness.

When so done, people tend to hear the love and the truth...... 

                                                                                     -Jesa MacBeth
 
Clearly, this idea is worthy of  my attention.  My goal now is to figure out how to regulate the body to remain in a state of peaceful calm no matter what goes on around it, like the eye of a hurricane.

Wish me luck with that!

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Monday thoughts

So far I have spent the day reading and ordering books and a CD on Amazon, following an early morning jog in the park.  It's rainy but not depressingly so.  As you might surmise, it's a day off from work.  Heaven knows what time I would have arisen this morning if my son didn't have to be driven to the bus stop at 6:55am.  I guess I should be grateful for his ridiculously early Middle School starting time, because when I think about it, morning is my favorite time of day, and I really don't want to sleep through it!. 

Just now, the red-bellied woodpecker hammered on the gutters above my front door.  That is his signal to let me know that he's available to receive a peanut.  I toss one up into the air above my front door, and he swoops down to catch the peanut mid-air.  People who have witnessed this interaction have been dumbfounded.  It took the woodpecker and I several years to perfect this act.

There's more to it.  Several other species have figured out our routine.  After the woodpecker flies away, I invariably see his shadow, a male cardinal, who is unable to catch peanuts midair but will gladly scoop one off the ground.  There is always a chipmunk standing at my front door who I'm sure has been debating whether or not to enter my house in search of my stash.  He will accept 4 or 5 nuts at a time which he is able to stash in his chubby cheeks.

And my dear squirrels are always hanging around hoping to catch sight of me.  They come running when the woodpecker knocks, knowing that the peanut lady shall appear.

It's nice to be popular.



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another one that got away

Over the past few months it's been difficult to find time for whirlingbetty, but now that my schedule is less hectic I'm back!

A month ago, my dream nearly came true.  Again.  I was all set to bid on a really cool Victorian house in my favorite neighborhood which is in the downtown area.  That neighborhood is really expensive, but the house in question was in foreclosure and was scheduled to be sold at a sheriff's auction in the county courthouse.

Look at those lions guarding the house of my dreams!   It had a huge front porch, with a flat roof on top of it so that it could actually be used as a  terrace off the second floor:

This house was in a great location- right across the street from a really great urban park, a block away from a grocery and drug store, and walking distance to work.  Perfect!

I know how it is with foreclosures.  It's risky to try to buy one, for many reasons.  You must brace yourself for a roller coaster ride, even if things go your way.

Things did not go my way.  The house which should have been mine was withdrawn from the sheriff's sale the day before it was to be auctioned off.  And there goes another house which was almost mine.

My therapists

I've gone to various types of counselors throughout my adult life.  I've picked up helpful life skills from each one, and not a day goes by that I don't remember (and often apply) the words of at least one of them.  For the past few months, I've been trying something different: daily squirrel therapy.

My therapists show up at my front door early each morning- usually at dawn.  They expect payment up front.  To the casual observer, it may seem that I spend a lot of money on peanuts.  The most I've ever paid has been about $12 for a week's worth.  That's the cheapest therapy I've ever had.

These therapists have provided much-needed stability in my life.  They show up each day, come hell or high water.  They don't throw me any curves; they don't jerk me around.  They prove the theory that we teach others how to treat us.  If I'm careless and accidentally let my Chihuahua run out the door, that scares the bejesus out of the therapists and they may not return for a few days.  But if I'm considerate and cautious, I am rewarded with near trust.

Some mornings I have to rush off to work, but on the best of days I can sit in my chair and watch my therapists through the window.  There are normally six of them.  Winter is the best season for this activity, since the squirrels don't have to compete with the semi-hibernating chipmunks for the nuts. 

The blue jays, however, are another story.  On many days they snatch up the nuts, always weighing them by lifting various ones in their beaks to see how the weight compares to the other nuts.  Fortunately, the jays sleep later than the squirrels, proving that if you snooze, you lose.  I admit that I have developed a resentment toward the jays.  My therapists, however, prove unfazed by the jays, as they show me by example that my resentment is out of place.  These therapists apparently believe in and live by the concept of abundance.

On the best of days, my therapists accept payment in complete harmony with one another, with each therapist calmly and gratefully accepting his or her share.  I enjoy the sight of all six therapists munching contentedly at once.  They know how to give each other space.  Each therapist seems to be surrounded by an invisible boundary of a three foot radius.  How many therapists can teach boundary setting so clearly?

The therapists are not jealous of each other's nuts.  They mind their own darned business.  I've never seen a therapist grab more than one nut at a time, although I know they're capable of it.  They show themselves to be grateful for what life has given them, and willing to share their bounty, even with other species.

And how many therapists make house calls?

Must be nice

This afternoon I attended a concert at a church.  I saw a young man whom I recognized.  He works at the library near my house, and I've seen him taking walks nearby.  At today's concert he was with an older woman (who must have been his mother) and a couple of other people.  It appeared to me that he was with family members.

Why is this significant to me?  I've always been a loner, yet I remember what it was like growing up near extended family.  And my parents had lived in that town their entire lives, so they knew a lot of people. 

When I moved to the city I now live in, I didn't know anyone here.  I have no relatives within a 600 mile radius.  I've never been married, but I have a child.  To be a single parent with no relatives in the picture is rough.  I have never known the experience of having anyone watch my child whom I did not have to pay to do so.

When I go back to my hometown to visit, which is rare these days, I am struck by the apparent fact that people know each other.  My best friend from my hometown runs into people she knows wherever we go.  (She has lived there her entire life.)

Such solid, reliable familiarity must be nice.  I should like to experience it sometime.

Goodbye, Dear Friend

I am in shock.  A longtime friend, one whom I spoke with on the phone last week, is gone.  I was calling him today to ask him when I could bring to him the treats from the store he had asked me for last week.  He sounded odd on the phone that day- not himself.  He was asking for things he normally wouldn't ask for. 

He had just gotten out of the hospital and was in a facility in the same complex as his apartment.  I told him I'd bring his things in a few days.  But something seemed very odd.

Today when I called the last number he had called me from, a stranger answered.  When I called his home phone, the number had been disconnected.  That's when I reluctantly googled his name, hoping I wouldn't find anything.

But google produced a sight that numbed me- an obituary entry. 

The man who was like a dear father to me had died and was buried, unbeknownst to me. 

I saw him a couple of weeks ago, just before I left to see my dying sister in Boston.  I will never forget sitting with him there in his apartment that day.  I did not know it was the last time I'd see him, but it was a sad day.  I had brought him food which he tried to eat, but his heart wasn't in it.  I actually started crying as I sat there facing my friend, even though I didn't know it was our last meeting.  We had talked about my sister, and he was very concerned, but his own health was not good either.  He told me he was going to die.

I told him I wished he wouldn't.

Best use of "now"

 The following is a quote from the daily spiritual guidance I receive via email:

People say. "If I'm always setting goals and reaching for the future, then am I not squandering my now?" And we say if in your now you're using a future event to make you feel good, you are still feeling good in your now. And that's the best use of now that you could ever find.

The guidance I've received from this source has always been sound.   And the above paragraph makes perfect sense to me.  When I read it, I thought of my recent house-hunting escapades (which are not that recent- my last one took place nearly 2 years ago).

During the times I was totally wrapped up in finding a Victorian house in the downtown neighborhood, friends criticized me.  They said I was "distracting myself."  Distracting myself from what?  From an unpleasant current reality?  What's wrong with that?

I remember how I felt when I thought I was getting the house of my dreams.  It was a high!  It was energizing.  It caused me to tackle my lifelong problem with housekeeping (because my current house had to be in showing condition).   I think that anyone who is setting out to live according to his/her beliefs is going to experience an improved state of mind.  By living near downtown, I would be adhering to my belief in getting around without the almighty automobile.  I wanted to walk to work, walk to run errands, walk everywhere.  Europeans and New Yorkers who live that way are measurably healthier than the rest of us.

There were several Victorian houses which I pursued leading up to the last and best one 2 years ago.  The last one was so perfect for me and The Child that I gave up after that.  The price of that house was unrealistically low- I had waited 3 years to make my offer, watching the price gradually reduce because that house was not suited for the average buyer (it lacked a garage to house the almighty automobile!):

Since then I have become "distracted" by other things, but nothing has had the powerful effect on me that the house dream did.  Yesterday, when I had no choice but to drive down dangerously icy roads to get to and from work downtown, I thought wistfully of that house which was almost mine.  Had I lived in the dream house, I could have walked or bussed to work. (Or I could have driven a few short blocks!)

The older I become, the more convinced I am that we live life in our heads.  How else can we explain why 2 people going through the same experience have 2 completely different responses?  If our head happens to be distracted by the possibility of a dream come true, then so much the better.

Box it, label it and put it way

Unfortunately, I am now my own counselor.  I am struggling with a problem which has lasted longer than most of my problems.  Often, my problems seem to magically disappear within a fairly short period of time- sometimes overnight.

I have had to construct a plan for dealing with the current problem, since it is not going away and it puts me in a bad mood.  The plan is to label it, box it and put it away.  It is going to remain, but I don't want it to affect me anymore.

I am embarrassed to admit that the problem has to do with money.  Before The Child entered my life, I made a pact with myself that I was never going to let money make any of my decisions having to do with The Child.   That as back before my huge salary cut which resulted from the reorganization of my workplace. 

And for years, I stuck to that rule- I paid a king's ransom for organic cloth diapers after carefully researching the topic, I paid for a very pricey private preschool, I paid thousands each year for the very best babysitters.  From a very early age, the Child loved electronics and I indulged his every whim, more or less. When The Father sued me for custody of The Child, I spent thousands on a lawyer to prevent the troubled, abusive man from ruining The Child's life.

Then a couple of years ago my workplace shut down for a few months and then miraculously resurrected, but with radically lower pay for all employees.  There are precious few jobs in this field (no openings in the entire country right now) so job seeking was never a viable option.

Here's the problem:  The Child was born with problematic teeth.  He's missing 10 adult teeth- they'll never come in because they're not there.  Three years ago the Child and I started seeing an orthodontist.  I paid $2500, thinking that that was it- I was finished paying for orthodontia- and I thought that was quite a lot of money!

Imagine my shock when, during last week's orthodontist appointment, I was handed a bill for over $5,000!!!  After they scraped me up off the floor, they explained that the $2500 was for phase 1.  The $5,000+ was for phase 2, and phase 3 would follow!  (Mind you, The Child doesn't even have braces on his teeth yet!)

So that's it- that's my problem.  In my current state of finances, that $5,000+ is prohibitive and I'm having a hard time accepting it.

I am putting it in a box labeled "An unexpected, unwelcome expense which could be higher and could be related to something far more unpleasant then The Child's orthodontia.  As far as problems go, this is not a very bad one.  The people who jumped out of windows during the 1929 stock market crash did not have their priorities straight."

Hopefully the box will now collect dust in some remote, neglected corner of my mind.

Happy New Year??

I was invited to a New Year's Eve party.  It's an annual get-together; I've attended for the past few years.  The attendees are interesting although I usually end up in a tension-ridden conversation before the night is over.  I don't drink; I'm the only one there who doesn't.  By now I'm accustomed to being the oddball in social situations, The One Who Doesn't Drink.  But that wasn't the problem.

I felt a bit strange that evening.  Something in the atmosphere made me uneasy.  The hostess is a good friend of mine.  I didn't dare not show up or leave early, because she is easliy offended.   But that wasn't the problem.

The hostess and her husband are serious art collectors.  I tried to relieve my uneasiness by looking around at their museum pieces.

 

I left before midnight, claiming that I'd turn into a pumpkin otherwise.

Then, in the wee hours of January 2nd, it started.  I am not the sickly type; I've not even suffered from as much as the sniffles during the past several years.  And I don't vomit.  It's just not in my repertoire.

But in the wee hours of January 2nd, I was out of bed, pacing the floors, feeling horrible.  In an act I'd later regret, I made a glass of warm water laced with the juice of half a lemon to try to settle my stomach.

It didn't help.  I glanced in the mirror and saw that I did not look well- I was as pale as could be.

Before I knew it, the unthinkable was occurring.  I was vomiting.  I was projectile vomiting, over and over, for hours.  The acidic lemon juice nearly caused me to aspirate on vomit.  I became so weakened that I could barely make it from the bed to the toilet.  Between onslaughts, I was in agony, moaning and groaning.  I told The Child that I could not take care of him until I was better (secretly, I wondered if I was dying).  I told him which drawer the money was in so that he could pay the pizza delivery man.  I was so sick that I called out for my mother, who has been deceased for many years.

Remember, I am not the sickly type.  Whenever I do have the slightest thing wrong with me, I am able to figure out what caused it.  This time I was stumped.  What could have caused my life to turn upside down like this?

Well, I found out the answer last night.  It turns out that the hostess of the New Year's Eve party had the stomach flu the night of the party.  The woman who rents a room in her house, also at the party and preparing food, was just recovering from stomach flu!

I think that I experienced a sense of foreboding on the night of that party.  I am very careful about avoiding germs, and maybe I had a 6th sense about the germs present in the house that night.

My social life is nearly nonexistent, and then when I finally do go out, this happens!

My opinion is that it is the responsibility of the host to present a germ-free environment to the greatest extent possible.  That party should have been canceled!  At the very least, guests should have been informed of the presense of illness beforehand so that they could decide whether they wanted to risk being exposed.  I would have chosen to stay home!!!!

end of a decade

I didn't even realize until yesterday that we are beginning a new decade, not just a new year.  So much happened in my life over the past 10 years.

10 years ago I was living in a beautiful Victorian house in the downtown neighborhood I loved.  Above is a photo of the side of the house.  (Interestingly, I just had a dream about this house last night.  In the dream, I was attempting to buy this house back!)  But during the 18 months we lived in this house, I wasn't the same person I am now.  I was insecure and easily influenced by outside opinions and events.  Long story short- I sold the house and moved to the one we're in now:

I have been frustrated with living in this more suburban neighborhood.  We have to drive everywhere, and that's not in line with my beliefs and desires.

But it's located on a park, which I thought The Child would enjoy:

One of the positive results of moving here is that I enrolled The Child in a terrific private preschool located nearby.  He loved going to school there.  It was all about playing creatively and learning how to effectively interact with other people.  The social skills The Child learned there will serve him for the rest of his life.

My work schedule was such a challenge for a single parent.  I worked very odd hours and one of the toughest things I ever did was to seek babysitters to cover my schedule. 

One angel in the form of a babysitter came to us through an ad in a suburban newspaper.  She was 12 years old and lived a few blocks away.  I still remember the day I first showed up at her door with the Child.  The connection between the 12 year old girl and The Child, then age 5, was palpable.  I could almost see electricity shooting between them.  They loved all of the same things, and she was the best sitter we ever had.  As an interesting aside, she ended up choosing the same career path as mine, which happens to be a very unusual one!

She couldn't cover all of my work hours, of course, but I was fortunate to be able to hire the mother of a co-worker who frequently came to our house.  She became like a mother to me, but unfortunately we lost her to complications from diabetes. 

I also lost a dear friend from work due to breast cancer.  She was as sweet as could be, and things haven't been the same without her presence.  She and her husband used to take The Child and me out to eat regularly, and they were as close to grandparents as The Child ever had.

And then there was Mr. D, our next door neighbor.  When he died a few months ago, I was so upset that I vowed to move out of this neighborhood as soon as possible.  His personality was so large that its absence created a huge void in the neighborhood, all the more noticeable to me because his house was the only one near ours.  His widow still owns the house but spends most of her time in Florida.

When we first moved here, The Child did spend time outdoors, often enjoying the park.  More recently, though, he has become the indoor type, content to spend every waking moment with his computer, especially the one he just built by himself:

 
Public school, especially after having had such an extraordinary preschool experience, has not been impressive!  It's drudgery to be endured.......

We went through some challenges with The Child's father.  Three years ago there was a horrible scene, followed by a lengthy court battle which pretty much ran my life for over a year.  The Father ended up with no parental rights.  (He never paid child support either, but to me it was worth it to have no ties.)   Over the past couple of weeks, The Child did see his father a couple of times, but I am proceeding with much caution. Thanks to the court outcome, I call the shots.

Career-wise, I completed a major project last year which I never thought would be possible.  After that I took on a couple of extra responsibilities at work which don't increase my income, but which do increase my variety of experiences.  I never could have accepted those duties in my younger days; I didn't have the confidence until now.

Houses have figured prominently in my life over the past years since The Child was born.  Two years ago I was broken-hearted over losing out on a house back in the downtown neighborhood:

The house had been sitting on the market for 3 years, so the price was sinking to a ridiculously low level.  On the day I finally made my offer, someone else bought the house.  This is "the one that got away."

I almost forgot to mention that last year I had the experience of unemployment when my workplace shut down.  Luckily, it re-opened after a few months, but I didn't know that it would!  I'd say that the most upsetting and depressing aspect of unemployment was trying to buy health insurance.  I ended up paying $230/month for catastrophic insurance for myself and The Child.  That's a lot of money when you have no income.

Another downer of the decade was that my sister was diagnosed with tongue cancer.  At one point , following chemo and radiation, she was told that she was cured.  A few months later, the cancer returned with a vengeance.  Surgeons removed much of her tongue.  She is receiving speech therapy, but has to be fed through a food tube.

Those are a few of the facts punctuating my past decade.  I will always remember it as the decade during which The Child grew from a toddler to a Middle Schooler.

Happy New Year.

Preparing for the new year using Twitter

The following is a "tweet" posted this morning:


marwilliamson

  

For 2010: Have a talk with your Higher Self; what 1 thing do you know in your heart you should give up, and what 1 thing should you do?

Do you use Twitter?  I have a mild interest (or curiosity) regarding social media.  Pasted above is am intriguing tweet I just received from internationally acclaimed spiritual teacher Marianne Williamson

I instantly knew what the one thing I should give up is.  My eating habits have been appalling.  I really don't wish to try to get away with it any longer.  I could go on and on about the issue of getting away with it, about how I am and how I'm not, but that's irrelevant.  What is relevant is that I'm not OK with my eating habits.  I want to change.  I've indulged long enough.

The answer to the other question, the one about what I should do, was also on the tip of my tongue.  The Child is now in Middle School.  He won't be with me much longer.  People have warned me since he was born that he'd grow up fast.  

In truth, the days are long but the years fly by.  

In my talk with my Higher Self,  I will have to admit that I've spoiled The Child pretty seriously.  It was not what I planned; I planned to be The Perfect Parent.  I read all of the parenting books which were in line with my philosophy.  I took parenting classes before he was even born.  I hired, at great expense, the best babysitters available in the area.  Daycare was unacceptable; The Child had to have one-on-one interaction with creative and intelligent sitters.

I have been engrossed in my job throughout his life.  I felt guilty about focusing so much on work.  When The Child was 2, I asked The Child's father to move out of my house.  I did not feel guilty about that, but I felt competitive.  Durings visits, the father plied the child with hitherto denied candy and toys.  I had to compete.  I broke my parenting rules; I became indulgent.  It was also at this time that I started hiring sitters because the father was no longer babysitting.  The guilt over hiring others to be with The Child coupled with the competition with Disney Dad caused me to become The Over-Indulging Parent.

I had abandoned my own Parenting Plan. 

The Child will be with me for a few more years.  The days will be long, but the years will fly by.  During those long days, I owe it to the Child to be mindful of my words and actions.  I am molding a human being.  I can do it consciously and responsibly, or I can instead respond to the guilt and competition. 

How about you?  Do you know what your answers would be?

A very happy holiday

The Child wanted a new computer for Christmas this year.  I said yes......under one condition: you build it yourself.

He's in 6th grade.  Most parents don't require children of that age to build computers.  But I know this child.  He needs a challenge and he's motivated.

So I asked him to choose the components for his computer online.  He did, and I sent his list to a friend who is an engineer.  He's built a few computers himself.  He approved the list, surprised that it had originated from a child.

The parts arrived early.  The Child wasted no time.

There were a few moments of frustration.  I kept telling him to read the manuals which had come with each component.  (He learned to read in Kindergarden on such technical manuals.)  By golly, he did read them, and before long, the fan was running.

The monitor wasn't getting a signal, though, and he seemed truly stuck.  I told him to load the computer into the car, and I drove him to the local computer repair store.  The geek/owner seemed shocked by The Child building a computer , especially such a powerful one, and after getting over his shock he seemed glad to offer his expertise.  He saw a disconnected cable which solved the problem when connected.  That was easy!

Within minutes the computer was up and running, and The Child was installing Windows 7.  Now he's happliy playing games on it, just like any other child his age.

Merry Christmas!  May you take the steps to make your dreams come true.

So much for lightening up......

Censorship is the suppression of speech or deletion of communicative material which may be considered objectionable, harmful, sensitive, or inconvenient.  Mention the word "censorship" and you're likely to encounter an automatic reaction of self-righteous indignation.

There are many types of censorship, with the main categories being moral, military, political, religious and corporate. But many of us automatically associate the word "censorship" with unthinkable control such as by a Communist regime. Here is a photographic example of censorship in Russia in the year 1940::

 Nikolai Yezhov, the young man strolling with Stalin was shot in 1940. He was edited out from a photo by Soviet censors. Such retouching was a common occurrence during Stalin's reign.

I think it's time for us all to update our understanding of censorship.  In reality, censorship is part of everyday life.  It's just that usually it's self-administered.  How many times have you felt like saying something cruel but instead you chose to bite your tongue?  Did you ever become so enraged that you felt like throwing something or hitting a person, barely stopping short?  That's censorship. Those of us who don't exercise censorship usually end up in prison, real or virtual. 

Sometimes censorship is absolutely called for at the workplace.  Sometimes it's in the best interests of the organization as a whole for individuals to exercise self-restraint, which is a euphemism for censorship.

Why does this seem to be such a foreign concept?  A little self-restraint of pen and tongue can make the world a better place.  Whoops- that would be censorship, wouldn't it?  Heaven forbid.

 

Whirlingbetty lightens up for the holidays

A friend sent me this via email.  I laughed so much that I wanted to share it with my blog readers!      

Hugs,
Betty


Be sure and read story at bottom.

"Good news is that I truly outdid myself this year with my Christmas decorations. The bad news is that I had to take my fake man down after 2 days. I had more people come screaming up to my house than ever. Great stories. But two things made me take it down. First, the cops advised me that it would cause traffic accidents as they almost wrecked when they drove by. Second, a 55-year-old lady grabbed the 75-pound ladder, almost killed herself putting it against my house, and didn't realize it was fake until she climbed to the top (she was not happy). By the way, she was only one of many people who attempted to do that. My yard couldn't take it either. I have more than a few tire tracks where people literally drove up my yard."

Transitional Thanksgiving

Surely on some level, I feared that the Child had outgrown the one tradition, the only tradition that our two-member family ever had, the one time each year when I could say to myself that I was an OK mother. The parenting books all seem to agree that traditions are the key ingredients to a successful family; those traditions create fond memories for decades to come.

It was challenging for me to come up with a family tradition in the first place.  My imagination just couldn't wrap itself around the concept.  The family from which I emerged was not a good model, to say the least.  The only tradition I recall from that family was the one where I end up alone in my room, crying, for hours on end.

The Child always liked to be in water, so eventually, after seeing numerous ads for waterparks on the Disney channel, a light bulb went off in my head.  I don't like being out in the sun, and several new indoor waterparks were springing up across the U.S.  Hmmmm....maybe a trip to an indoor waterpark might be a good idea.....

In my usual style, I spent several days researching indoor waterparks.  I read thousands of reviews, both professional and parent-generated.  The city we live in has a couple of indoor waterparks, but for anyone willing to drive for an hour, one of the biggest and best in the country beckons.

Three Thanksgivings ago, The Child and I experienced our very first tradition with a trip to the huge indoor waterpark an hour away.  We were both very impressed- awestruck, really.  The enormous lobby, several stories high, was decorated to the nines with the waterpark theme and Christmas lights to boot.  The gift shop was the size of Walmart, with clothing, toys, books, food, movies, you name it.  When I spied the Starbucks, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

Our room was just as impressive as the lodge itself- it was spacious, clean (practically brand new), tastefully decorated and even had a microwave and refrigerator.  (The Child is impressed by microwaves since I believe the raditation is dangerous and don't own one myself.)

The waterpark itself, located inside the enormous lodge, was stunning.  The Child happily entertained himself there for hours while I spent most of my time listening to my iPod and reading.  When he felt like drying off for a while, there was a captivating magical quest which required participants to run throughout the lodge searching for clues. The game arcade was the icing on the cake.

The only disappointment was that time passed too quickly.  Check-in was 4pm, followed by check-out at 11am - a time schedule typical of most lodging these days.  We frequently talked about our next visit throughout the year, and our second visit was highly anticipated and enjoyed.

This year, I could tell that the Child's level of anticipation was not the same, but I attributed that change to the fact that he's now in Middle School (6th grade).  Middle School tends to change people.  But he didn't even want to swim this year.  He half-heartedly played a few games in the arcade, and then just wanted to watch a movie and play a little Nintendo in our room.  Time passed slowly.  I fought back tears on the long drive home.

reality check

I am curious about something.  I want to know if it's typical for adults to become profoundly sad when reminded of their childhood.

Today I heard a hymn that I used to hear in the Episcopal church of my childhood.  (Religion was not a big part of my life either then or now, but I attended church often enough to be able to identify music I heard there.)  My eyes filled with tears- I couldn't function for a few minutes.  (Luckily I wasn't driving- I probably would have crashed the car.)

Is this normal behavior?  Of course, everyone's story is different.  The characteristics of my story which may be causing this are many.  For one thing, I haven't lived in or near my hometown since I was 17.  The family I knew as a child has disintegrated- most of the key people have died, except for my brother and sister who both live far from home.  Only my father remains in my hometown, yet he married into a new family and barely acknowledges his "old" family.

My childhood was not a particularly happy one, although I was an idealistic child and somehow I knew how to make the best of things, and I always knew I'd leave after high school.  I was shy and lonely, reading books all the time.  My family never did fun things- my parents were unhappily married, and my brother and sister, who were teens by the time I was born, resented me.  What's to miss about that childhood?!

Well, as always, I have a theory.  The family may not have been outstanding, but it was the only security I've ever known.  We lived in the same house for all of those years.  My parents got up at the same time every morning and went to bed the same time each night.  There were no surprises.  I always knew what to expect when I came home from school- if my mother was at work, then Gram would be there.  Dinner (we called it "supper") was at 5pm each night come hell or high water.  My mother's cooking sucked, but at least it was consistently bad.  And no matter what she served for the meal, whether I ate it or not, there was always dessert- usually ice cream.  Every Sunday I was given a McDonald's Happy Meal for dinner.

We didn't have a huge extended family, but I knew a few relatives who lived nearby.  Gram was my favorite person of all time, but I was also fond of another older relative, Marion, from my mother's side.  I never knew what appealed to me about Marion, because we had nothing in common, but I just liked her.  I was terribly quiet, even around relatives, so I was sure she didn't know.  I was thrilled when one day my mother told me that she had told Marion that I liked her, and Marion had said, "Yes, I know she does."  How did she know?

 It was not Family of the Year, but it was stable- as I said, it was the only stability I've ever known.  I work in a very unstable field, and my schedule is erratic.  I can't even have a regular bedtime schedule, because I sometimes work late at night and sometimes early in the morning.  I can't sign up for anything regular, like classes or clubs, because of my work schedule.

Besides being stable, my childhood was the only time of my life during which I was surrounded by people who had to care about me no matter what.  That's what "family" is, right?  Now, I do have a child, but he'd happily throw me to the wolves if I so much as tell him he has to go to bed!

My child will not look back at his childhood the way I do mine.  He has no family- he only has a mother- that's all.  The only stability I've been able to offer is the constant knowledge that he's cared about, and that he has a house and food and electronics.  Maybe he'll be able to look back and remember the house on the park with views like the one above, the ill-behaved Chihuahua who constantly wanted to fetch, and the fretting mother who did the best she could.  I'm not sure if his eyes will fill with tears when he hears a song from childhood......

The goal of the week

I'm thrilled to have a relatively light work week.  I'm working on organizing the house.  Why does it seem that, despite the countless hours I've devoted to organizing, I'm never finished?  I suspect that my method is flawed.  Part of the problem is that I'm organizing for two- myself and the Child.  And I am unable to identify many of his possessions.  How can I organize what I can't identify?  (I'm talking about vaious assorted power chords, computer-related items, parts to game systems- enough electronic paraphenalia that I could open a Radio Shack.)  I've told him he has to participate, but it's like pulling teeth.....

I dislike going through old things.  I define "old" as anything unused during the past year or longer.  Unfortunately, I'm finding some things that I've never even looked at since we moved here 8 years ago.  Old things depress me; therefore, I have a hard time dealing with them.  I remember one time when a friend of mine came over and just walked into my closet and started telling me what to get rid of.  She ever loaded the rejects into her SUV and took them to the Salvation Army.  The funny thing is, I think she herself  is a hoarder.  She couldn't help herself, but she was phenomenal at helping me.

Oprah has had hoarders on her show recently.  I used to think I was a hoarder, but now I realize I'm just a bad housekeeper.  I really don't want to keep things, and I'm not an avid shopper like most hoarders are.  And my house doesn't look as bad as the disaster zones hoarders live in.

My problem is twofold.  First, I have no help- any cleaning or straightening up is done by me alone.  Secondly, I seem to have an ususual ability to block out the mess, to narrow my focus to whatever I'm doing, totally oblivious to my surroundings.  I guess bad housekeepers have to have that ability- otherwise, they'd get their act together.

My mother used to have her own mother and my father helping her keep the house in order.  Gram was obsessive- she'd get down on her hands and knees and straighten out each tassel on the rug with a clothespin.  Oh, I'd LOVE to have her around!  My dishes would always be clean, the sofa cover would always be in place, the food would be put away, the laundry would be done, she'd prepare meals, take out the trash, vacuum, sweep, dust and provide psychological counseling and babysitting.

It doesn't seem fair.  My mother had 2 other adults helping her on a daily basis, and she did not work outside the home during most of her adult life.  I work fulltime and have no help whatsoever- no relatives within 600 miles (not that they'd necessarily help!).  Is this a sign of the times or am I just unlucky in this regard?

I really want to reach the point where I can honestly say that my house is organized.  I wonder if that's doable.  If it is, then the next hurdle will be maintenance.......well, that's another story.