Randomness wins again

  today is a day full of random thoughts.

1. Why do birds charge at their own images?
    As I was out for a walk one day,I watched as a bright red Cardinal sized himself up in a side passenger mirror. Then he flew into the mirror. Landing back on the car door and doing this again. Repeatedly. I thought the poor thing was gonna be beak-less after so many beak-on collisions with the mirror. But he got frustrated that his opponent wasn't budging and finally flew off.

2. Why do habits cost so much?
       Really? I've had many baaaaad habits and they always cost so much. You would think with the increase in prices on everything, you might reconsider your habit. I don't care if you smoke tobacco or another substance, drink the cheapest beer or the most expensive wine. How can it feel good to spend obscene amounts of money a month (150.00 on cigarettes. 100.00 on vodka. etc.) on a habit that basically leaves you hacking up a lung every morning or leaves you with a hangover? Honestly, if your friends are being honest with you they'd tell you that you smell like cigarette butts sitting in a cup of rubbing alcohol. EEEEW!
 Please don't be offended...these are random thoughts.

3. What's so interesting about someone else's dirt?
   Did you hear the skinny on John Dingy? Well, I heard from the salesman at Tango's, who is John's sister-in-law's husbands brother, that John is considering a sex change operation. Wow! Can you believe that? 
  Now, I don't know who John Dingy is and I don't care. But a sex change operation, now that's interesting. Why would he want to be a woman? What happened to him? No one knows.  But one day you'll say......'I wonder if John Dingy got a sex change.'

 4.  I can fit 13 Pringles in my mouth at the same time. This I am proud of and needed to share.

5. When your Mom would threaten you with...'so help me'...did she mean it? Was she really asking for help? And why did I stop whatever I was doing that made her say that?

6.  I wonder if I know anyone who's had a sex change.

7.  I still can't touch the tip of my elbow with my tongue.

Are you loved?

How do you know if you’re truly loved? Could it be the way someone looks at you? Talks to you? Someone who’s there for you? Helps you out? Buys you things? Does stuff for you? Lies for you? Spends time with you? Makes you breakfast in bed?

It could be a many number of things that would prove to you that someone loves you. And for everyone it’s different. But I challenge you to see beyond the here and now. Can someone love you for who you really are? Or the person you once were? Ex-con, thief, spouse beater, alcoholic, substance abuser. Think about this.

  If someone loves you, do they really know who you are? Do they know you’re background, your history? What are your weaknesses? Alcohol? Pretty women? Macho men? Pot? Porn? Gambling?  Do you dare share with them the dark side of you? Where you’ve been, what you’ve done.

I bring this up because today I know I am truly loved. Here before me stood a man who knows the dark side of me. The everything, the in and out. The ugly truth.  

   My husband knows every detail of my life as I remember it. And I don’t say this loosely. There are things that will come to me in the middle of the night, or through a dream Things I had forgotten. Things I wish would stay forgotten. But they pop up.

  These things pop up to remind me that I’m no good. That I have failed. That I’m a miserable excuse for a human being. They get me down, hurt and dejected. Depressed. I don’t even like who I once was. As I’ve said before, if I met me back then, I wouldn’t be my friend.

            Here stands my husband. He’s got his headphones on because he’s going to mow the lawn. But he turns around and dances with me for a minute or two. He looks me in the eye and tells me he loves me. He knows all there is to know about me, filthy, wretched things. Things I can not undo, can’t take back, can’t escape from. Yet, he still loves me. Better yet, he loves me knowing my past.

In the movie MEET JOE BLACK, Joe Black asked the brother-in-law….’How do you know she loves you?’ And the brother-in-law’s response is…’ Because she knows the worst things about me and she stayed.’en

  How true is this statement!

   My hubby knows the worst things about me and he acts like I’m a gift to him. He is the gift. He has changed my world for the better. The dark places of my life can not hide any more; they can’t make me feel ugly and miserable. They have been exposed and he knows of them.

  Even over time, he still loves me.

   The same with the Savior. He knows everything about me, how many wrongs I’ve done. How many people I’ve hurt.  He loves me and wants to change my life for the better. He died for me so that I may not suffer the consequences of my sins, my wrong doings, and my ugliness. Christ too will one day dance with me, much like my husband does. Freely and without hesitation, because His love for me is strong enough to overcome any judgment of what I’ve done.  

 Who I am has changed. What I’ve done will always remain. Those that love you will look to the yesterdays but look forward to a new and brighter tomorrow.

The greatest gift is love. Christ’s love and sacrifice is the ultimate display of love. John 3:16

A comforting thought for today

I bowed my head down, crying. With tears streaming down my face, I said to God, " God. I am alone."

God placed his hand on my shoulder and said to me." Yes. You are alone, except for me. I am all you need. I am sufficient."

 Psalm 73:28

But it is good for me to draw near to God;
         I have put my trust in the Lord GOD,
         That I may declare all Your works. 

INVEST

When you think of the word invest, what comes to mind? Money? Stocks? Bonds? Retirement? College? Work? Renovations? Vacation?
There are so many things that come to mind. All of these things are for the future. So, investing for the future. Usually your own. That's not a bad thing. Saving money is hard to do in this economy.
  If you're married, it takes two salaries to keep a home afloat these days. If you're single, it may take two jobs. We plan for our future, we plan for our child's future. Monetarily.
   What about investing time? Investing money is to save money for a later purpose. But investing time is to spend now for a better tomorrow. Another persons tomorrow. Like your child, parent, grandparent, sibling, friend or even a stranger. Time is the most valuable thing we have. And we waste it.
  Money doesn't grow on trees and time doesn't stand still. We spend money like we'll never run out and we treat time like it also won't run out. But they do.
  
 I was thinking about my Mom today. About time. Did I spend enough time with her? Could I have spent more? How many people took time out of their every day lives to spend time with my Mom?
 My Mom had ovarian cancer. She lived with it for ten years, and everything that went with it. The Chemo, Radiation, Atrophy. Ten years my Mom spent her time with cancer. Her life slowly fading. Not a welcome guest, and one that stayed way too long. She did not survive cancer, it ultimately took her life. Cancer used up the last ten years of her life. Her time was spent in pain, in darkness.
  What I was thinking about was all the people that knew her. Friends, family, siblings, co-workers, bowling buddies. How many of them took the 'time' to call? Visit? Send a card? Mostly time to visit.  In ten years, not many. Not as many as I would want to visit me if I were in the same situation.
  Oh, I could have spent more time with her as well, I'm not innocent here. I live 700+ miles away, with young children. So I say I didn't always have the time. But when I did, I would be on the plane. I didn't only spend time with my Mom, but also with my younger siblings and step Dad.
  When an illness hits home, it not only affects the person, but the people around her. My siblings who have relied on her all their lives. My Step Dad who has provided a home for her and has been by her side for years. They too are going through this. I wanted to spend time with them as well. To share not only my  Moms burden but my families burden.
 
   When I said not many people would visit, I'm serious. I can probably count on the tip of a toothpick the amount of family members that came to see her in her time of great need. My thoughts are, she never asked, so they didn't come. She was afraid of rejection. Afraid everyone is too busy to stop and spend time with her.

 I called my Mom one day and asked if I could come home to help her out for a while. For as long as I could, a week maybe two. She started crying on the phone. She was so pleased and moved by my asking, I was shocked. I asked her why she was crying. My Mom responded,' I've been wanting to call you to ask you to come. But you have your own life, your own kids. You can't afford the time.' I was crushed.
 
This isn't the first time I've gone home to help in the past ten years. Numerous times I have spend hopping on a plane, sometimes for a two day stay. Sometimes longer. This time, I had been laid off from work, I had time and I wanted to spend it on the matters of back home.
 (Honestly, I thought my Mom would straight out say no. She, at this point, didn't seem to want people around. Most times when I called, I talked to the answering machine. She'd listen to my messages but never return my call. So I would leave long messages of love and adoration. How much she means to me and how I miss her and that I'm praying for her.)
 
Gladly, I went home. I was there for a month. I would've stayed longer but there were issues on the home front with my children that I was needing to attend to. But in that period of time, I got to talk with my Mom.
I messaged her legs. They hurt so bad the pain caused by radiation it kept her up at night. I cleaned, with the help of my sisters, and rearranged and organized the house. Cleaning is one way to show my Mom love. If the house is clean and you put your things away, she knows you love her.
  I also held her while she cried at night.  This was hard. This is my Mom. She's always seemed so strong. I didn't know what she wanted me to do or say. So I held her and rocked her. I said what needed to be said. I love you. I am here because I love you.
She wept more.
  Then, she asked me through her tears,' Why is this happening to me? What did I ever do?'
How do you answer such a question?? What did you do? Nothing. It's cancer. You can't possibly think that you're being punished. NO!!


  The comfort I could give her was that she is the best mom, she's not let any of us kids down. She's been there for us the best way she knew how. She is loved greatly and deeply. And if it were possible, I would gladly take this horrible illness from her. I would carry it or cure it if the Lord willed it. (She wasn't always open to talking about God.)
  Telling her gently that God loves her more than anyone in this world ever could. Jesus died for her, her particularly. For her pain and suffering, taking away her punishments for any wrongdoings any sin. That's love. He spent thirty years of His life for her. The ultimate love, the ultimate sacrifice. All of His time.
  I couldn't answer all her questions. I couldn't relieve her of physical pain. I only hope that I could give her comfort in the remaining time she had. Comfort in the time we shared. It wasn't a lot of time, I wish it could have been more.
 
In the end, at her funeral, I couldn't keep track of the many people that said they wished they had spent more time with her.
Time doesn't stand still, not for you, not for me.  Time is the most precious thing we could share with one an other and give to each other. My time is fruitless unless I share it.

I love you and miss you greatly Mom. One day I hope to see you again. Then, we'll have all the time there is. 

Where could your time be better invested?

To know me...

You've all heard the saying,' To know me is to love me.' Right? well, not in this particular case. I'm not necessarily that lovable. Although we're instructed to 'love one and other' and 'do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' This day and age it's more like, 'All for one and that one is me.' or 'if you don't like it, there's the door'. Times sure have changed.
 But I, on the other hand, don't always, if ever, give a good first impression. Don't ask me why, but if you're going to introduce me to someone.....just don't. It's a whole lot easier that way. Easier for you and for me.

 For one, I won't have to worry about what not to say or what to say. Let's face it, sometimes saying nothing is the best thing to do. But then some people become very offended if you don't talk. Either way I look at it, I have the hardest part of the job here.
   Secondly, it's not easy for you because you look like an idiot. Here you are telling people that I'm funny, or interesting, a really nice person who, for whatever reason, should be part of this group. I get there, you  introduce me, everyone starts to chat. I say nothing for fear of making a chump out of myself. Or I don't shut up, because crowds make me nervous and I talk a lot when I'm nervous. Worse off, I talk about non-sense. Or talk too loud.
  Then where does that leave you? I'll tell you. Leaves you having to explain what in the world were you thinking!! I didn't fit in at all. I didn't share in any of the conversation, so your friends think I'm snobby, or better yet......stupid.
   OR I talked my head off about things NO ONE needs to know. My child's bodily functions. The turkey leg that I found in the back of the fridge that's probably been there since last thanksgiving. My hairstylist that sneezed while cutting my hair. No it's not a new style. Honest. Stop looking at me like that. LOL

  So there's that. I'm not perfect. I'm the worst kind of non-perfect. I think I'm a perfectionist. Everything has to be in it's spot. When actually, I love piles. Hidden piles, organized piles, attractive piles (sticky note stacks.). Open one of the cabinet doors and you'll see.
   One self has seven plastic grocery bags in it. Each one filled with stuff. Baby sock, pens & pencils( that's where they went), library card (who's?), notebook paper with numbers written on it. Haven't thrown this away because I'm not sure if it's important. Bills, pay stubs, recipes, napkins from any and all fast food restaurants.
   Don't get me wrong, it's not cludder. It's a neat and clean mess. But I wasn't always this way. I was
Mrs. Throwoutski. Didn't matter what it was, if I didn't have a use or a place for it......out it went. Maybe not in the trash, sometimes to Goodwill. That's where the danger set in. Just after I got married.....
   My hubby is a collector or Mr. Justincasekeeper. Everything from health magazines to product information booklets to things he no longer owns. The health magazines because he might want to 'get in shape'. The booklets, because basically, it's too much work to throw them out.
 
What happens when two worlds collide? Everything from laughter to tears. I would have a pile of 'I don't know'. This was for my hubby to go through. After a while, I would have to move the pile to a bigger location. Still, a week or two later, it's still there. It would be then that I would decide what's to stay or what's to go. I would try really hard to make an objective opinion on paperwork, receipts, odd and end things. I would make a pile on the stairs that needed to go upstairs. A plastic bag would hang on the door to the stairs downstairs. A pile on the teens bed that they need to tend to..etc.
  Needless to say, if after I went through everything and made the individual piles, they were still there in a week........I would throw them out. Figuring if they haven't missed anything so far, they won't miss anything at all. So I toss it. Toss it all!

  One day I tossed some papers and a couple of odd and end things. A couple days later my hubby was frantically looking for something. A d.v.d.. One of the rentals. I start to sweat. I probably threw it out.
So I fess up. 'If it was in the pile on the stairs, I tossed it.'  Hubby dear digs out the trash, and sure enough, there it is.
  Since then, if something's missing I get the third degree. 'Did you throw it out?' or ' You probably threw it out.'  Getting a little offended. After all , I wasn't throwing things out to be mean, I was just trying to keep things clean. NOW I have devised a plan. PILES. Piles everywhere. Piles here, piles there, here a pile, there a pile everywhere a pile pile.
  When any of the piles become obtrusive I simple plop it in my hubby's lap.
  This eliminates the stress on both our parts. I pile things away that I don't know what to do with. When I become irritated by the pile, I hand it to my hubby. Let him do with it what he may. Just as long as it gets put away I'm good.
  Like I said, we now have pile's'. You can't see any of them, they're all hidden. There's one upstairs in the bedroom closet, top shelf. I forgot about it. A) it's above my head..and 2) it's not my closet. haha
  The baby was sick and I couldn't find a thermometer. Hubby decides to 'go looking' for it. Honestly, I envy him for that. I wouldn't know where to start. He went through every nook and cranny of the house.
 Finally, about twenty minutes later, he comes in the baby room with the thermometer. Hooray!!
  'Where'd you find it?' I knew it had to be a pile somewhere. Sure enough, the one I just described upstairs. Then he starts to laugh, he commented, ' found all kinds of cool stuff in that pile.'

 So there you have it.

Most Precious

  This morning as my husband left for work, he turned his head to look at me and said,'I love you my most precious and beautiful wife.'
Now, you may giggle or roll your eyes at this but it was so sweet. For him to leave the house and leave me with those words.
   I'm blessed to have a husband who will delve into the woman psyche to realize that she needs to hear that she's important, and above all, precious and beautiful.
As I watched him walk to the car, I glanced in the mirror by the door. Beautiful isn't the word I would use to describe myself. Tired, worn out, ragged. Yes. Beautiful........nope.....don't see it. That's why it's so great that 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.'
   He beholds me as beautiful. Regardless of what my present circumstances are. Regardless of the baby spit and tattered pj's I'm wearing. He doesn't care that my hair resembles Medusa, or that my eyes are stained with mascara.  I am his beautiful.
  What's more important to a woman than her value? Precious. Like a rare ruby, a diamond, gold. When you look upon something precious, there's a twinkle in your eye. You appreciate the uniqueness, rarity, the value.
  Something precious is something that has been formed over time. An oil painting that the artist took years to paint. A mural on the side of a building. A potter and his clay. Precious. Also in the eye of the beholder. I am precious to my husband.
  My Dad would call me precious. I was his precious. No one, until now, has ever called me by that nickname.
I asked my Dad why he called me precious. He answered,' Well, my daughter, when you were born I ran all the way to the hospital to see you. I couldn't wait to see you. I love you.'
  My Dad is so special to me. Not because of what he said, but because he loves me. He loved me first. I didn't have to do anything to earn his love. Didn't have to say the right thing, dress the right way or get good grades. I was born. That was enough.
  So, when my husband left me with those words this morning, I knew I married the right man. God gave him to me, I didn't do anything to earn him. God too thinks I'm beautiful and precious. He loved me before I was formed.
   If you find that you're not good enough, you think you're not beautiful or precious, look in the mirror. It's not what you see that makes you beautiful..........it's who loves you that makes you beautiful and precious.
  God loves you. Therefore you are a rare gem that twinkles when He looks at you. When God thinks of you He smiles.
  You are His most beautiful and precious.
 

Let's talk about...........

FOOD

Let's face it, for most people the love of food is evident. Be honest. Here, this is what I'm trying to say...

  When I woke up at 2 am from my Shiraz/NyQuil coma, my first thought was 'What's to eat?'.
Not, Man do I gotta pee!, or the piercing pain going through my right shoulder from the awkward position I slept in.  It was food. The fridge.
  Going through the contents of the fridge in my mind as I made my way downstairs. Milk. Definitely milk. . Cake........yeah. Double chocolate layered cake with fudge icing and a scoop of Vanilla Ice cream. Yup......nope. I didn't make cake. Shucks.
  When I get downstairs I realize everything I want with my milk, I can't have. Cake, chocolate silk pie, Big Mac, Burger King, Dunkin' Donuts. Honestly, if it wasn't 2 am, I might have driven through a drive-thru somewhere.
 
   Wake up odd hours in the night, alone. I'm hungry. So I mozie to the kitchen and open the fridge. I stare. And stare and stare and stare. Nothing. So I get the carton of milk out and pour a glass. But I don't put the milk back. Might need more. No sense in overexerting myself this early in the morning.
 I start off with a couple Oreo's, which triggers the need to counter act the sugar with something salty. Chips. Chips and dip. More milk. Aha! There's chicken. Shove a piece in my mouth.  Cold is ok, it's cooked.
I'm on a roll now.
 Maybe a chicken sandwich. Get out the bread. Behind the bread is a can of mixed nuts, pop in a hand full.Where was I....mayo and the chicken. Some cranberry sauce on that would hit the spot. (another Oreo down the hatch.) Pour more milk to wash away the Oreo so I can taste the chicken sandwich. More mayo. Chicken sandwich , chips and dip with milk.
 Now that's satisfying.
What a mess. As I clean up, another handful of nuts, fresh glass with Kool-Aid. ( I notice the milk is almost gone..........ooops,).
Kitchen's clean, I'm full and it's  2:17 am. It only took 17 minutes to consume a whole days worth of calories! Sheesh. Well, back to bed to sleep off this food coma.
  When my alarm goes off at 5ish am, I feel like a beached whale! Put myself on the scale .........I've gained six pounds. Overnight! Seventeen minutes of food and I'm a cow! Well, I did eat like I had six stomachs last night.
  Today, I'm buying lettuce!

Hormonal Disposition ???

P.M.S, Emotionally unstable, chemical imbalance, depression, postpartum depression. What ever you call it, there's medication to be had.
In my opinion, woman have more emotions than they can handle. Estrogen is what keeps us feminine, all the while we're raving lunatics with a frying pan in one hand and a diaper in the other.
 Women in general have so much that they have to balance. Work, home, friends, finances, continuing education. Let's face it, it's non stop. If you're a Mom, then throw temper tantrums, cold shoulders, guilt trips and 'Well, their parents let them...' into the mix of things. This with lipstick, high heels and oven mitts? We wonder why we tend to 'lose it' every once in a while.
Today, for instance. Nice, bright, sun shiny day. I should be enjoying it, soaking in the rays, taking a walk, breathing in the fresh air, doing anything that I could to benefit from a day like today.
  What am I doing? Crying, sulking, feeling sorry for myself. I'm tired. Exhausted to a point. And what happens when I'm this tired and run down............My Emotions Go Hog Wild!
Yup! Not enough Prozac in the cupboard to rally this girls emotions.

  One week ago my 'last nerve' started it's thinning process. First it's a sick child. Day and night in the bathroom with the shower running and a humidifier in the bedroom. There was coughing, crying, no sleep, unbelievable amounts of whining going on. And the child was miserable too.
Second, grocery shopping. Oh yeah.....I forgot to do it! So we're living on tuna, mac and cheese, frozen meatballs and frost bitten waffles. YUM! Very nutritious. Another reason why I feel so wonderful about being me. My hubby does his best......he buys cookies, and mixed nuts and more cookies.
  Now comes the weekend, I'm thinking, finally some rest. Nope. Not this weekend. It's too beautiful outside, we all must go to the park. Scrounge up some lunch, find the cooler, some clean blankets would be nice         (because laundry hasn't been done either.) grab a book or two and  a football and we're off.
The park. Everyone is having a good time running and playing. Me? I want to sit on the blanket, read and or sleep. I'm tired. The baby is tired. So at this point we're both cranky. Nope. No rest today.
 By this time I'm thinking postpartum depression has finally hit. Whatever it is, I took two Prozacs. Pretty soon nothing will bother me.
 This brings me to today. It's starts to get dark and rainy out. The day and the emotions meet.
The child is feeling better and I'm still exhausted. The whole house needs some major TLC. Come to think of it, so do I.
  I'm jealous. Men don't seem to go through random roller coasters of hormone overflow like woman do. Have you ever overheard a group of men talking about their 'raging hormones'? No, I don't think so.
Think about it, men have testosterone levels that remain, well, level. It may be a high level, the Alpha Dog, or not so high level like Pinocchio. "I'm a real boy!"
But either way, I doubt it fluctuates as much as woman's hormones.


So I pout. Sulk. I sit and hope to feel better, all the while thinking of more things to make myself feel more and more depressed. I'm over weight and short. My left arm hurts, could it be I'm having a heart attack? Just add that to the list. Gee thanks.
Like I said earlier....there are medications for all sorts of hormonal issues. For one, Prozac. If that doesn't work, fain a headache, sniffle a bit and sneeze a couple of times. Then take two NyQuil with a glass of Shiraz.


Tomorrow is another day.

I'm done........

I'm done.
I have to admit, I use this term way too loosely. I'm done.
Yes, I can be done with the dishes, cleaning and laundry. But only for the moment. There are always dishes and laundry and cleaning. I'm done with my dinner or dessert. Maybe done with the errands for the day or week.
It's not this kind of done I'm talking about. Usually it's being done with a relationship, conversation or project. When I give up, that's when I'm truly done. Give up on a relationship? Yes, an influential relationship that leads you don't the wrong path. A business partner or associate that isn't being legit. A marriage. Maybe you're still friends, maybe not. Either way, the relationship of husband and wife no longer exists.
I'm referring to the relationship of parent/child. So many times as a parent, things happen that we can't control. A parent is supposed to guide and lead, nurture and challenge, discipline and reward.
  I find that when I've been wronged, hurt, used, walked on, slandered, I throw up my hands and say,'I'm done.' I can't take it anymore.
  What am I done with? The conversation, moment, the feelings, hurting or being used as a door mat? Or am I saying I'm done with the child? There have been times that it's been such a fine line that I don't even know what I'm done with. The situation can be so overwhelming, everything can look so ominous, that I just want out. I want to walk away and hope that it all turns out for the best.
Well then, I'm a quitter. I'm willing to lead my children until it hurts. Then I stop. This is not what I want. Parenthood hurts. It's got to. If, as a parent, your child hasn't hurt you in some way, fashion or form, then what kind of a relationship is it? Probably a superficial one.
Now, don't think that I'm saying there has to be some big argument, or that your child has to do something totally horrific to you. No.
For every parent there is a particular subject or situation that you guard closely. You put walls around it so no one can penetrate the barrier. Unfortunately, this doesn't work. Your child will find a way to get in. They always do.
 For me, it's when I'm not considered or respected.
Consideration to me is very important. I'm not particularly fond of it when someone assumes I'll help, give, stay behind, pay for something. And being invited last minute isn't necessarily a good way to let me know you've considered me. NO, it more or less means you didn't have enough people for said event.
I am a parent who wants my children to trust that I am also their friend. This too is a fine line sometimes.
Consider me as a parent, but confide in me as a friend.
Respect me as a person and a parent.
Sometimes I wonder if my children realize I have feelings. There are times that a choice has to be made, and honestly, the choice they make aren't always in my favor. Why is this? I don't know. On occasion, I've asked one or more of my children why they chose otherwise. The answer is always the same....I didn't want to hurt so and so. Didn't want so and so to get angry. Or, didn't think you'd mind.
Either way, it hurt, I was angry and yes I did mind. But I don't express these things. What I don't want for my children is a guilt trip. I don't want them to feel like they have to hide something from me for fear of my feelings. I just want to be picked every now and then. I want the respect from them that shows me they value my opinion, that they like to spend time with me, and that they love me.
Is it that so and so verbalizes their discontent? Could be.
If I'm hurt, I don't like to show them this. I don't want them to feel like they have to walk on eggshells around me. What I do want is consideration and respect. The balance is tricky. It's like trying to balance an elephant and a cotton ball on a seesaw. In my case it's trying to balance two elephants ON a cotton ball.
Pushing past this, I feel I've not given up. I want to sometimes.Save myself the pain and anguish of playing third fiddle. Getting the left overs of a good time.
I love my children. I also know they love me. One day, I will look back as an old woman and 'know' that they are the best they can be because I didn't decide to be first fiddle. That they are confident in their decisions, and decisive in their actions.
And that I'm gonna spoil my grandkids one day!  That'll teach them!!

Don't judge a book.....

Don't judge a book by it's cover.

 Remember when you were in school and you had to cover your books. The covers were old grocery bags. Paper ones. When you were done, each book looked like the next. So you had to write the subject on it...English, Math, Science, History...etc.
Then as time went by, you would doodle on them. Write stuff on them, like your favorite group, actor or maybe even the 'crush' you had that year.
 Eventually, you didn't have to read the Subject to know which book it was. You would grab the book with the heart and dagger tattoo drawing on the spine, that was your Math book. Or the 'Where's Waldo?' sticker, that would be your History book. Maybe the one with the P.B&J smear was your Science book.
The cover wouldn't reflect the content.  
I find this to be the same with people.

It always amazes me how quick people judge other people.
For instance, there's this lady that I know. I've not known her for a long time, just a short few years, and I was always under the impression she didn't like me.
  Oh, try as I did, to become her friend. But nothing seemed to work. I would try to become part of the conversation whenever she was around. When I spoke, it was like I was invisible. She's look at someone else in the group and would comment on what I said. I'd even look her in the eye, or try to, and talk. Still, it seemed she could look right through me.
  There were times it just ticked me off. My blood would boil, my nerves would be racked. Every possible meeting would come into my mind, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what I had done. How have I wronged this woman? Did I say something? Did she think I wasn't intelligent enough to be in the conversation?
 I mean, yes. Sometimes I wasn't familiar with some of the subjects that were brought up. I'd ask questions. Then I'd feel like a total ditz because I asked. Well, maybe I wasn't intelligent enough. Maybe my outlook on things were just simply childish to her.
 
 Many times I saw her as a woman who just wanted someone to listen. I wanted to be that someone. I wanted to connect with her on some level, any level. After all, we are both woman , and woman like to talk.
She is a hardcore woman. She doesn't pull any punches. Tells it like it is. Her opinions are very strong and a lot of times extremely defined. This is a strong woman who projects confidence. I wouldn't want to be on the other end of her wrath, I want her on my side. Who wouldn't?
 That was probably it! I'm very opinionated, I have very strong views. Maybe we clash. Maybe I'm offensive to her? There are many times she'll say something that would offend me. Especially if it has to do with my children or my husband.
 My children aren't perfect and my husband works hard. Sometimes there would be an off the cuff comment or two that would just send a bolt of lightening right up my spine. My feathers would be ruffled and I wanted to lash back. Comment on something that would bother her. But, I don't think anything bothered her. She's like a rock of confidence. She knows who she is, where she stands. Me? Where do I stand with her?

 Then, it happened one evening. Everything seemed to be going ok. Then...BLAM!  Another comment. This one hurt me as a parent. Something along the lines of abandoning my child. ( I left the room to get my son something and left him with her.) OH THAT DID IT! No more, I couldn't take it any more. I had to say something. But I didn't want to say anything out of anger, so I pretended I didn't hear the comment and went back to the 'easy' conversation.
  All the while, just waiting for another blow to come my way. It's funny. The more you look for something to upset you...the more you find things that are upsetting. Oh she was on a roll.  THEN.......

Something happened. I saw her in a different light. She was human. Normal. Her features softened. She wasn't saying things to hurt me, she was just talking. Kind of like keeping the conversation going with a whole lot of 'and thens'. Filling the void, the silence in the room. It was her way of connecting. Like when guys punch each other on the shoulder. That's all.
  Man, I hope I'm right. It was only her and I in the room now. Here's my chance. I mustered up enough courage to ask if she has any issues with me that we could talk about. To my relief, her answer was no. But did she mean it? Again I ask,'' Are you sure? Anything?''.. ''No, honest''. Phew!! It was like a lead weight, a ton of insecurities , gone! Wow!
  She said she thought I had a problem with her. Can you believe it?
 So, in the few years we've known each other, we both thought the same thing. What a waste of time!
  I sit here thinking of all the times she and I have spent with each other, coupled with our spouses. It's time I can't get back. But I hope there's plenty of time ahead to get to know her, as she is.

  We can be very hard on people, and very hard on ourselves. Especially woman. Gaggle of geese is the expression used to describe a group of women that gather together to talk. I wonder, how many woman are like me? Thought something about someone, and you were dead wrong. It's embarrassing and humbling all at the same time.

So I started this weekend, with an old/new friend.

 


 

The cat and catpot

Ok. So my morning started out like many others. The alarm goes off, I'm wondering who is making all that racket at 5 in the morning.  Then come to realize it's my alarm and  I have to rollover to shut it off. Unfortunately it's on the floor out of arms reach. I get up, hobble over to it. I have to hobble because my legs obviously didn't hear the alarm and they're still sleeping. Shut it off and sit on the edge of the bed.
  Needless to say I doze off again, and wake up hurdling from the center of an abyss to middle earth. Actually, I fell on my pillow. My pillow never felt so soft!
 If I don't get up now, then the kids will be late for school. So I go through the house flipping on the lights in the kids bedrooms. One by one, there's a soft groan of disbelief. Then it hits them and an exasperated sigh fills the air. SCHOOL. But it's Friday. OH FRIDAY!
  Needless to say, I'm not good at the days of the week. They all seem to run together to me. One big blur. Like looking in the steamy mirror after a really hot shower. You hope it's you you're looking at. Kind of looks like you, but fuzzier. I wipe the mirror, yup. It's me. Not Thelma Hayek or Sandra Bullock, but me. Same ole same ole, just more tired.
 Friday. My cat loves Fridays. It's the day she's allowed to go 'illegal'. I give her catnip. I call it cat pot. As soon as she sniffs it, man she's wild. 
 No sooner do I step foot on the bottom step she's prilling and rubbing her head into my calves. As I walk, this is happening. Can't count how many times I've had to high step just so I don't step on her. Furball! When I get to her food bowl to check food and water she starts this low throaty meow. Honestly sounds like she ate the Tom that's outside. She doesn't meow and then purr.....this is straight out meow meow meow constantly. No breathing required.
 Afraid the whole neighborhood's gonna wake up I grab the cat pot. Now she's spastic sitting like a mere-cat on her hind legs meowing, purring, prilling all at the same time. I grab a pinch and put it on the floor. She sniffs and snorts and blows it everywhere then chases me down for more.
 Every Friday I go back into the room and gather all the pot in one place so she's happy. She ROLLS in it. Now it's everywhere again. UGH!
 This is the cat that licks herself constantly. Not a hair out of place. She sits up straight like a show cat, all four paws touching each other with her tail wrapped around them. She takes up a whole 4 inch circle! She's so pristine and dainty. But give her some pot and she looses all her femininity. Right out the window. The hussy!
 Now she's high. Her eyes are huge and she's running all over the place. Her imaginary friends become evil terrorists and she's trying to capture and destroy. Quickly losing interest in the terrorists she spies a piece of food.Gathering herself into a little ball, with her butt in the air wiggling, she springs into action! This small morsel becomes a soccer ball and she's going for the winning goal.
 SCORE! SCORE! SCORE! She jumps on the kitchen table with sheer excitement, then tries to pounce on the sofa. SPLAT! (I thought cats land on their feet every time?) Needless to say, this doesn't stop her. Nothing can stop her! She's 'Invinc-a-Cat'! 
 Then as she comes down, she eats the soccer ball, goes to the sofa to look out the window. Yup, the birds are still there. She makes her way upstairs to my bed where she curls into a ball, with her head looking straight up at the ceiling, to sleep........until 3 pm. Now that's the life. 
Me? I feed the baby, do the dishes and hope to get in a nap today.