My brother posted an article about some Focus on the Family (American, James Dobson, queer hating "christian") sub-group spouting the possibility of changing "orientation". Basically its possible if the subject is willing enough. Just give it the old college try, smash the "feelings" of homosexuality way deep down, and come back to the heterosexual life.
Funny, but the article and most of Dobson's work focuses on male homosexuals. Not much about the lesbians, or the bisexuals, or the "feared" transfolks. I had to read through the stupid thing, like watching a TV car crash in slow motion. You know a lot of special effects are involved, and most to all is not real, but you have to watch anyways. I read so I can remember what my siblings (not all, just some) believe down deep. That this phase of my life will pass, that I could change if I tried, that I am still following that "false Jesus" who loves me as I am.
So, my brother, why bother posting this information? Do you have a lot of queer readers dying for a morsel of truth so they can change their wicked ways? I don't think so, as I am the only one of his family or friends who is openly gay and doesn't give a damn who knows.
The only thing in my life that needs a change right now is the dang light bulb over the stove. It keeps burning out. I keep replacing it. Maybe if its willing and tries hard enough, if it believes in itself enough, it will stay lit all the time and never burn out. Let's all pray it does!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Naughty = Bipolar Disorder? Behavior Disorder? Having a Bad Day?
Behavior is the topic at our home. Manage the ones whom we've brought through some serious stuff. Help them cope with emotions by helping them find and use the right tools. Then a new situation pops up, and we are off again.
Our four year old is a peach. At parties, school, church, with the neighbors. Wherever he is "ON" he behaves beautifully. But get him alone with the family, where he doesn't want to do SOMETHING (go to bed, put away a toy, finish his dinner, put on a pull-up) and the explosive tantrums begin. He spits, kicks, hit, name calls, runs up the street. He shreds paper, breaks toys, throws whatever is near at hand. The child passes from OK and generally following with the flow to a demon child. We are waiting for his head to spin around and the green pea soup to come out of his mouth while he speaks in a creepy deep voice.
We've tried medication and he is off all meds for now. We've met with a behavioral specialist from the county. Our son weekly receives OT for sensory issues. We need to get him into a psychiatrist to see if this is related to his FASD, ARND, or some other disorder. I want to believe this is a phase that will pass, but I have enough parenting experience to know better.
Have I mentioned how much I get pissed at the birth mom for her use of narcotics and booze during pregnancy? Well, today I really am because this darling boy started out life with a big minus against him, thanks to her.
Our four year old is a peach. At parties, school, church, with the neighbors. Wherever he is "ON" he behaves beautifully. But get him alone with the family, where he doesn't want to do SOMETHING (go to bed, put away a toy, finish his dinner, put on a pull-up) and the explosive tantrums begin. He spits, kicks, hit, name calls, runs up the street. He shreds paper, breaks toys, throws whatever is near at hand. The child passes from OK and generally following with the flow to a demon child. We are waiting for his head to spin around and the green pea soup to come out of his mouth while he speaks in a creepy deep voice.
We've tried medication and he is off all meds for now. We've met with a behavioral specialist from the county. Our son weekly receives OT for sensory issues. We need to get him into a psychiatrist to see if this is related to his FASD, ARND, or some other disorder. I want to believe this is a phase that will pass, but I have enough parenting experience to know better.
Have I mentioned how much I get pissed at the birth mom for her use of narcotics and booze during pregnancy? Well, today I really am because this darling boy started out life with a big minus against him, thanks to her.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Summertime, and the living is, uh, interesting?
Last I wrote the kids were nearing the end of school. I had a summer plan. Really, this time I did!
We'd cruise through the end of the school year. Have a couple weeks with me and the kids, first one taken up with going to visit Granny and Grandpa. (My partner's parents whom I dearly love.) Then one week swimming, working in the garden, and enjoying each others company. Then my personal care attendant, hire for the two middle kids, would ease us through by providing a gentle pair of 17-year-old, energetic hands.
HA! Want to get the universe to laugh at you, not with you? Start making plans, baby, because they will be turned upside down when you least expect it!
We did OK for the first week. With the grandparents. At first. But.... Did you know you can spur-of-the-moment hit a restaurant in Chicago and run into your brother, his kids, and zealot wife? Oh, yes, truly it is possible! Pouring rain, enduring a long train ride from the suburbs into downtown Chicago, a little shopping, and on to meet my partner's local friend at said pizza place. We order, wait, eat and are ready to pay the bill and "TADA". Here comes brother with 5 of his kids in tow. Curiously, brother's wife, who wrote me the prior posted letter, remained seated across the room. I don't see much of this brother on purpose. But the blessed stars aligned to add a "sparkle" to my day!
My family of origin was meeting in Madison a few days later for a wedding celebration. I knew this brother would be attending, but really, seeing him in Chicago? For another opportunity for this woman to ignore us and remain seated while her family came over to "say hi?" I like my nephews, they are a good lot. But, my brother and........ SHEESH!@
On to the wedding. If you have not attending a fundamentalist baptist wedding you've missed out. On what, you say? The opportunity to hear how marriage is supposed to last forever, that people are to remain virgins until married, how the wife will submit and look to her husband for leadership and protection, how marriage is between a man and woman as god planned, how the world is going to hell because marriages today aren't commitments like they were in the old times, and how you need to accept Jesus as your saviour so you can go to heaven and have fabulous riches. Most people attending (as I knew many who were there) HAD been married and never divorced.
Many young people wore the unbelievably vain "promise ring" on the wedding finger to show their pledge to remain virgins until marriage. (Hey! Look! I am a VIRGIN! Take that you sex loving perverts who defile yourselves by fooling around! I'd never do that because god would burn my ring finger right off by activation of the IMPURITY alarm within the promise ring!) Isn't the decision to have sex or not have sex before "marriage" a private decision? And don't get me started on the idea of the insane "Purity Balls" (*snort*) the fundies like to have for their precious virgin-stock females. (Hey everybody! My daughter's virginity is mine to protect! Keep away from her pants!)
After successfully navigating our lesbian, multiracial selves through this snow white event, we moved on back home. The next week summer school started and our PCA started helping out. I am able to accomplish much with another person watching the risk-taking trio. Then camp for two of the kids, then I had surgery. Then my aunt died. And on to another interaction, quite emotional, with my family of origin.
I work on not being drowned by my past. It's hard, but I've made quite a bit of progress. But put me at a funeral, put me at my aunt's bedside for a couple days before she died, place me in a room filled with people from my past (some I've not seen for over 30 years) and the switch is activated. I can easily slide into the girl who didn't fit in, who had too many questions, who seemed to always be on the outside, who was and never would be good enough. My aunt always supported me, altough I'd lost touch with her in the past 10 years (the whole lesbian coming out, brother shunning me and manipulating family gatherings held without my knowledge, alcoholic in recovery thing. And the lesbian wife, lets not forget her!)
The last weeks dumped me deep into depression. Working through the feelings of loss, of accepting I can never be welcomed with open arms, with seeing people who have had successful marriages and are still together after 20+ years, that takes a toll. I want to be the smartass who gets by, who can "sarcastic" her way out of any situation, but I am not. The tears still fall. If I have any regrets for the past years they are allowing other people to hold me back, to hold me down. My aunt was a giving, loving person and I could have been in her life had I the strength to say "what the hell" and plan my own gatherings. I can't change the past, but I can change what I do in the future.
I am OK for who I am. I know this. The time is now, for me to act, react and be a part of life. I started by contacting the "good cousins" who love me for me and planning get togethers. I have phone numbers and email addresses. I've made the hospital visit for a friend who had surgery, rather than sitting on my ass and thinking I should do something.
Life lessons suck, they do. But coming through these past weeks I've shed some of the sensitivity which has burdened me. My family is my family, my friends are my family. The people related by name or blood, well, some I don't define as my family. They are under the same catagory as irritating neighbor or door-to-door solicitor. I can acknowlege their presence but they don't HAVE TO mean much to me. My choice, either way.
We'd cruise through the end of the school year. Have a couple weeks with me and the kids, first one taken up with going to visit Granny and Grandpa. (My partner's parents whom I dearly love.) Then one week swimming, working in the garden, and enjoying each others company. Then my personal care attendant, hire for the two middle kids, would ease us through by providing a gentle pair of 17-year-old, energetic hands.
HA! Want to get the universe to laugh at you, not with you? Start making plans, baby, because they will be turned upside down when you least expect it!
We did OK for the first week. With the grandparents. At first. But.... Did you know you can spur-of-the-moment hit a restaurant in Chicago and run into your brother, his kids, and zealot wife? Oh, yes, truly it is possible! Pouring rain, enduring a long train ride from the suburbs into downtown Chicago, a little shopping, and on to meet my partner's local friend at said pizza place. We order, wait, eat and are ready to pay the bill and "TADA". Here comes brother with 5 of his kids in tow. Curiously, brother's wife, who wrote me the prior posted letter, remained seated across the room. I don't see much of this brother on purpose. But the blessed stars aligned to add a "sparkle" to my day!
My family of origin was meeting in Madison a few days later for a wedding celebration. I knew this brother would be attending, but really, seeing him in Chicago? For another opportunity for this woman to ignore us and remain seated while her family came over to "say hi?" I like my nephews, they are a good lot. But, my brother and........ SHEESH!@
On to the wedding. If you have not attending a fundamentalist baptist wedding you've missed out. On what, you say? The opportunity to hear how marriage is supposed to last forever, that people are to remain virgins until married, how the wife will submit and look to her husband for leadership and protection, how marriage is between a man and woman as god planned, how the world is going to hell because marriages today aren't commitments like they were in the old times, and how you need to accept Jesus as your saviour so you can go to heaven and have fabulous riches. Most people attending (as I knew many who were there) HAD been married and never divorced.
Many young people wore the unbelievably vain "promise ring" on the wedding finger to show their pledge to remain virgins until marriage. (Hey! Look! I am a VIRGIN! Take that you sex loving perverts who defile yourselves by fooling around! I'd never do that because god would burn my ring finger right off by activation of the IMPURITY alarm within the promise ring!) Isn't the decision to have sex or not have sex before "marriage" a private decision? And don't get me started on the idea of the insane "Purity Balls" (*snort*) the fundies like to have for their precious virgin-stock females. (Hey everybody! My daughter's virginity is mine to protect! Keep away from her pants!)
After successfully navigating our lesbian, multiracial selves through this snow white event, we moved on back home. The next week summer school started and our PCA started helping out. I am able to accomplish much with another person watching the risk-taking trio. Then camp for two of the kids, then I had surgery. Then my aunt died. And on to another interaction, quite emotional, with my family of origin.
I work on not being drowned by my past. It's hard, but I've made quite a bit of progress. But put me at a funeral, put me at my aunt's bedside for a couple days before she died, place me in a room filled with people from my past (some I've not seen for over 30 years) and the switch is activated. I can easily slide into the girl who didn't fit in, who had too many questions, who seemed to always be on the outside, who was and never would be good enough. My aunt always supported me, altough I'd lost touch with her in the past 10 years (the whole lesbian coming out, brother shunning me and manipulating family gatherings held without my knowledge, alcoholic in recovery thing. And the lesbian wife, lets not forget her!)
The last weeks dumped me deep into depression. Working through the feelings of loss, of accepting I can never be welcomed with open arms, with seeing people who have had successful marriages and are still together after 20+ years, that takes a toll. I want to be the smartass who gets by, who can "sarcastic" her way out of any situation, but I am not. The tears still fall. If I have any regrets for the past years they are allowing other people to hold me back, to hold me down. My aunt was a giving, loving person and I could have been in her life had I the strength to say "what the hell" and plan my own gatherings. I can't change the past, but I can change what I do in the future.
I am OK for who I am. I know this. The time is now, for me to act, react and be a part of life. I started by contacting the "good cousins" who love me for me and planning get togethers. I have phone numbers and email addresses. I've made the hospital visit for a friend who had surgery, rather than sitting on my ass and thinking I should do something.
Life lessons suck, they do. But coming through these past weeks I've shed some of the sensitivity which has burdened me. My family is my family, my friends are my family. The people related by name or blood, well, some I don't define as my family. They are under the same catagory as irritating neighbor or door-to-door solicitor. I can acknowlege their presence but they don't HAVE TO mean much to me. My choice, either way.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Words from Someone Who Really Loves Her God
I ranted about facebook friending not meaning you were going to marry the person who friended you. Or believe everything that person stood for. This is a passive aggressive forward from a person who I try not to talk to ever.
"To be honest Fred, both you and Sappho have been incredibly deceived. You have both mix- (OK, what is this supposed to say? Mixed it up? Mix and matched our clothes?)
You have abandoned the truth of scripture and have bought into a multitude of lies from the enemy. I am extremely saddened by what I have read in your profile and very concerned for your soul. Sappho has also forsaken the truth of scripture in favor of a "user friendly" version that completely denies everything that the Bible teaches about morality. (Oh, yeah, and you are covering your head as a sign of submission, not speaking in church, not eating seafood, not walking your ass on the Sabbath.) The very disturbing thing about it is how you both believe that you are in the Christian faith. You have both accepted a different gospel and are following a false Jesus.
I really resisted saying this to you (yeah, for about 5 minutes) but I feel I have no choice if I am to be faithful to the teaching of Scripture. (My brother, and her husband) has tried several times to appeal to Sappho and she is not able to hear the truth anymore.
I pray that God will grant you repentance, but I cannot pretend that your beliefs line up with the Bible. The instruction I see in scripture is that I need to separate from you based on the fact that you are claiming to be Christian yet walking in darkness. (She is the one who friended this man, why friend him when you are already aware of who he is and what he stands for?) Please come back to the truth. You are in a very dangerous place. Hebrews 6 has some very serious warnings for you to consider.
(My loving brother's wife.)"
Really, what a bitch she is. Why bother sending me a note, if I am following a false Jesus? Aren't I lost already?
"To be honest Fred, both you and Sappho have been incredibly deceived. You have both mix- (OK, what is this supposed to say? Mixed it up? Mix and matched our clothes?)
You have abandoned the truth of scripture and have bought into a multitude of lies from the enemy. I am extremely saddened by what I have read in your profile and very concerned for your soul. Sappho has also forsaken the truth of scripture in favor of a "user friendly" version that completely denies everything that the Bible teaches about morality. (Oh, yeah, and you are covering your head as a sign of submission, not speaking in church, not eating seafood, not walking your ass on the Sabbath.) The very disturbing thing about it is how you both believe that you are in the Christian faith. You have both accepted a different gospel and are following a false Jesus.
I really resisted saying this to you (yeah, for about 5 minutes) but I feel I have no choice if I am to be faithful to the teaching of Scripture. (My brother, and her husband) has tried several times to appeal to Sappho and she is not able to hear the truth anymore.
I pray that God will grant you repentance, but I cannot pretend that your beliefs line up with the Bible. The instruction I see in scripture is that I need to separate from you based on the fact that you are claiming to be Christian yet walking in darkness. (She is the one who friended this man, why friend him when you are already aware of who he is and what he stands for?) Please come back to the truth. You are in a very dangerous place. Hebrews 6 has some very serious warnings for you to consider.
(My loving brother's wife.)"
Really, what a bitch she is. Why bother sending me a note, if I am following a false Jesus? Aren't I lost already?
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Facebook Friending Does NOT Mean you are ......
Facebook has become a new obsession for me. I am not a phone caller, and much prefer writing to keep up with my friends. I have family on Facebook, many of whom are on my friend list.
But, what is up with these family member who don't respond to my friend request? How stupid is it to have everyone in the family on my friend list except one person? Yes, this is a rant, but really. I can handle the fact my right wing fundies in the family object to the me of me. I object to the them of them. But does this mean we can't keep up with birthdays, graduations, milestones in life?
The only request I never accepted was someone I'd never heard of who must have thought everyone with my last name wanted his totally right wing, republican ass, fundamentalist person as his friend.
***Grumping****
I will be nice, I will take the higher path, I will save my ranting for my anonymous blog.
Take that, you tight ass family members!
But, what is up with these family member who don't respond to my friend request? How stupid is it to have everyone in the family on my friend list except one person? Yes, this is a rant, but really. I can handle the fact my right wing fundies in the family object to the me of me. I object to the them of them. But does this mean we can't keep up with birthdays, graduations, milestones in life?
The only request I never accepted was someone I'd never heard of who must have thought everyone with my last name wanted his totally right wing, republican ass, fundamentalist person as his friend.
***Grumping****
I will be nice, I will take the higher path, I will save my ranting for my anonymous blog.
Take that, you tight ass family members!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
My Son - Caught Between Kid and Teen
My son is moody. One minute Hermes is my loving little son. The next a prickly little cactus. Tonight he's mad because I said he could have ice cream. My partner said no, because it is too late and the tween-ager won't be able to sleep. So he started crying.
I remember being an emotional kid. I felt so much all the time, like sensory overload. I used to resent my mom because she seemed unhappy all the time. Now I realize I am more like this son than I care to admit. I feel sorry for my mom because I must have been a pain in the ass much of my tween years.
I remember being an emotional kid. I felt so much all the time, like sensory overload. I used to resent my mom because she seemed unhappy all the time. Now I realize I am more like this son than I care to admit. I feel sorry for my mom because I must have been a pain in the ass much of my tween years.
Monday, May 11, 2009
What's More Important - Our Life Now or Our Afterlife Later?
Anytime I have overexposure to my family of original I am bombarded by memories of my past and an overwhelming feeling of life repeating itself. What I learned then is still envogue. Repeated and revered by today's young.
Take for example the idea of heaven. I was raised to believe heaven awaited only those who had a definite moment of conversion. Where they committed their life to Jesus and clung to this date as proof they'd be ensured a future after-life mansion. A relative talks about this fact in their blog, where its clearly stated "I believe salvation buys us a home in heaven filled with delights. To not accept Jesus as your savior guarantees death and eternal damnation."
OK, I think, I will accept Jesus because who doesn't want a home in heaven? But its not that simple. I often hear or see the phrase "I believe (so and so) is really saved." Like, now that one person has accepted Christ, they naturally have gained a truth magnifying glass and can tell when someone is faking conversion.
The conversion experience must be matched with a life lived by clear, scriptural principles. (The guidebook Bible says so, literally interpretating a book barely reflecting original manuscripts with authors named who didn't themselves write the books and traditions such as stoning, multiple wives, and murdering nations.) So by believing in literal translation, we know certain things.
Like heaven, the place this conversion guarantees. We aren't supposed to have solid bodies, frail human frames which give way to suffering and eventual death. Our revised selves will walk gold paved streets leading to our new homes. We do good here, we have a great place in the afterlife, complete with maid service, many rooms, and an olympic sized pool. We don't. we end up in a roach filled apartment which smells of fried foot odor.
The problem I've experienced with those who claim a great heaven for good works is questionable motivation. If I do X & Y I will have a great place to stay with God. If I only do 1/2 of X I will have a so-so place to stay in heaven. So what's the motivation here? Seems selfish.
Not to cast stones, but I've met folks claiming Christian status who seem to act as if they've been saved and don't care to do good now. They've got their pass and they're going to ride it to the end, roach motel or not.
I think to live life as if no afterlife (good or bad) existed is a better choice. A motivation to improve THIS life one of greater impact. To help ease another's suffering by listening. To use one's talent to build low-income housing. To mentor a teen who's struggling with drug and alcohol use. Isn't an immediate impact here and now better than a life-after-death bonanza?
Sure, we could say "what's the point" and go crawl in a hole and starve ourselves to death. We could do nothing. Or choose to do as much damage as possible before we end in blankness. We could choose this option knowing we were saved but not caring. We want the roach motel, right? But isn't that a version of hell? Being a miserable bastard who cares nothing for no one? Who is lonely and not cared for? Who wrecks everything and everyone they touch?
I choose to live for doing good now and the rest will fall into place. As for the whole conversion process, I believe we have a lifetime of acting like Jesus in service to others, finding riches in the smiles and impact we leave behind. Not a momentary flash of Jesus-ness followed by banking on eternal riches.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Church Sales & Community Sales - The Must-Attend Events of the Season
I love garage sales. The thrill of the hunt, the quest for the best for less. Garage sales are great, but the real finds are at church, community sales (clubs and community centers), and large "everyone in the neighborhood participates" sales.
Last year I wasn't on my game for the summer (no energy for the hunt) and fell short when it came to fall clothes for the kids. This year, I've already started stockpiling for the fall.
A local church had a three-day sale with the last day $3 for all you can fit in a bag. For $9, I have around 45 pieces of clothing fitting two boys and our girl. Depending on the suburb, you can find NICE barely worn name items for cheap! Yes this sounds classist, but really, who buys their kids so many Abercrombe, Old Navy, Gymboree, etc. clothes that they are barely worn? And who cares, if my kids end up as beneficiaries of their excess?
We also went to a local "Friends with Benefits", no, that doesn't sound right, "Friends who Care", or whatever community center consignment sale. Consignment in this case means the sellers had a say in pricing the item, with hopes of selling and getting back 70%. Seeing as the sale was advertised as a "mothers and babies" sale, they didn't tap into the market of school age parents seeking good deals. A small rack for school age and few buyers means I bought clothes for the boys, brands like FUBAR and Abercrombe for $8-10 each. Jeans they can wear in the fall or for dress this summer, nicer than anything we'd ever buy. Tomorrow is 50% off day, so back in the morning to pick up the rest of the jeans if they're still available.
I believe these sales give back to the community. Parents on tight budgets, who have many kids, or who are just plain frugal can get nice clothes at huge discounts. Sometimes the clothes still have tags (see my note on wealthier suburbs and their sales). Mainly, our kids can stay in style without breaking our banks.
Hears to hoping they never gain fear of wearing used clothes!
Last year I wasn't on my game for the summer (no energy for the hunt) and fell short when it came to fall clothes for the kids. This year, I've already started stockpiling for the fall.
A local church had a three-day sale with the last day $3 for all you can fit in a bag. For $9, I have around 45 pieces of clothing fitting two boys and our girl. Depending on the suburb, you can find NICE barely worn name items for cheap! Yes this sounds classist, but really, who buys their kids so many Abercrombe, Old Navy, Gymboree, etc. clothes that they are barely worn? And who cares, if my kids end up as beneficiaries of their excess?
We also went to a local "Friends with Benefits", no, that doesn't sound right, "Friends who Care", or whatever community center consignment sale. Consignment in this case means the sellers had a say in pricing the item, with hopes of selling and getting back 70%. Seeing as the sale was advertised as a "mothers and babies" sale, they didn't tap into the market of school age parents seeking good deals. A small rack for school age and few buyers means I bought clothes for the boys, brands like FUBAR and Abercrombe for $8-10 each. Jeans they can wear in the fall or for dress this summer, nicer than anything we'd ever buy. Tomorrow is 50% off day, so back in the morning to pick up the rest of the jeans if they're still available.
I believe these sales give back to the community. Parents on tight budgets, who have many kids, or who are just plain frugal can get nice clothes at huge discounts. Sometimes the clothes still have tags (see my note on wealthier suburbs and their sales). Mainly, our kids can stay in style without breaking our banks.
Hears to hoping they never gain fear of wearing used clothes!
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Moving on.....
I called and left a message for my parent who had a birthday today. My partner asked me why I bothered to call.
Resentment is a heavy burden. I don't have the energy to focus on my relationship with them more than required. My life is too full and my brain doesn't need anything else to occupy it.
Taking a higher path? Being a better person? No, just making a choice.
Resentment is a heavy burden. I don't have the energy to focus on my relationship with them more than required. My life is too full and my brain doesn't need anything else to occupy it.
Taking a higher path? Being a better person? No, just making a choice.
What I am Reading - Bright Shiny Morning
I think some books are better listened to than read. Critics have mixed reviews on the book, citing the many voices and characters confusing, interesting, whatever. I like the book, because despite the many parallel stories and historical data, the narrator's voice and inflection make the story fascinating. (Ben Foster is the narrator.)
I haven't been able to stop listening since I started three days ago.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Should I be Surprised when They do What They Do
The kids will be baptized on Sunday. My partner's parents are coming in town and her father will take part in the ceremony. I invited my parents to the service and to a picnic afterward. My mother called back and said "they would not be coming on Sunday". She thought she should let me know.
The little voice in my head wants to yell "She still doesn't think you are good enough!" But I cannot listen because I'll become absorbed in my past.
My parents do not approve of baptizing children. The do not approve of the church we go to. They do not approve of our lesbian relationship. They do not approve, do not approve, do not approve.
So what's new?
The little voice in my head wants to yell "She still doesn't think you are good enough!" But I cannot listen because I'll become absorbed in my past.
My parents do not approve of baptizing children. The do not approve of the church we go to. They do not approve of our lesbian relationship. They do not approve, do not approve, do not approve.
So what's new?
Sunday, May 3, 2009
I'm survived a birthday
I turned 48 last week. I cried in the morning because my partner forgot to say "Happy Birthday" in the morning. Cried some more after the kids went to school. Was supposed to meet my partner and friends for lunch and canceled. Went back to bed and slept most of the day.
People remembered. I did get birthday wishes from my partner's parents, my parents, my two brothers and their wives. One brother said nothing, which is typical.
Next year I will just plan the day in bed with no outside contact. Wallow in my self-pity and get over it so I can move on. I am nearing a half century of living. Wow,
People remembered. I did get birthday wishes from my partner's parents, my parents, my two brothers and their wives. One brother said nothing, which is typical.
Next year I will just plan the day in bed with no outside contact. Wallow in my self-pity and get over it so I can move on. I am nearing a half century of living. Wow,
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
About Adoption - Commitment
Why did I choose adoption over bearing a child from my body? Technically, I say I could not conceive during either of my marriages to men. But the reasons go beyond scientific impossibility. Although I went through the procedures involved in increasing ovulation, charting cycles, watching periods come again and again when I hoped they would not, part of me didn't believe I'd ever give birth.
The doctors diagnosed "unexplained infertility". I diagnosed "not meant to happen".
While I was able to embrace the philosophical (your body is meant for other purposes) I emotionally reacted to the inability of my body to perform a basic function. Get pregnant. I didn't grieve for the children I'd never born, remaining too focused on physical failure. Not being able to do what others seem easily to do.
In retrospect, the reaction is pretty self-centered. Like the alcoholic's tendancy to turn everything into a "what about me" or "why can't I do like the others do" whine. Feel sorry for me please, because "oh, how I have suffered."
With the wisdom offered by hindsight's view, I realize I was meant for harder parenting options than simply making a child. Adoption is not for the weak. The parent/child relationship is like an arranged marriage. The commitment comes first, then the love.
The process of adoption is intrusive and annoying. Birth parents are rarely questioned about their physical health, belief systems, support systems, criminal history, faith or religious beliefs. They don't have their home inspected, photographed, and displayed in a nice brochure for agencies or prospective birth mothers to view. While they do wait for the child of conception to gestate, they don't have the same fears of the agency turning them down, the birth mother changing her mind, the wait for available children.
Birth parents are also rarely asked (from my observations in public settings and from acquaintences not versed in adoption speak):
When we explored adopting special needs kids, our social worker said "This is not the same as raising an adoptive child from babyhood." I sort of believed it, but believed more in my proven ability to parent my oldest child. Naturally, I could overcome anything through patience and love. We had the proof of my eldest son, didn't we?
But the reality of bringing a sibling group into our small family was much harder than I could have imagined. What was I thinking, at age 45, when I said "yes" to immediately doubling our family. To committing to kids ages 5, 3 and 2 who had endured more grief, suffering and abandonment than I could grasp? I was thinking I could do this, I could commit and stay committed, because I had no option to let them down. To give up on them as so many other adults had so far.
In sobriety I learned commitment only can be measured in 24 hours. Sometimes less. If I can get by right now, if I can survive this difficulty, I will be stronger for the next one. Every battle we fought over the "was-5-now-is-7 child" challenged my commitment. Made me see my behaviors in a light unflattering and prompted me to change. Again in hindsight, my son's behaviors prepared me for battles to come. We are now challenged by our youngest. Tantrums, rages, destruction of property .... no problem! Been there, done that with another kid.
Commitment also involves flexibility. Try one approach, then another, then another, until you hit upon a working solution. Commitment involves asking for help and listening to advice given but maybe not asked for. Commitment involves making a promise and keeping it. Commitment involves accepting responsibility no matter the consequence.
I know our kids are better off because we are their parents now. I know I am doing a good job because I see the changes in them brought about with consistency and caring. I know a parent's love can only have a foundation in commitment, because I do not have the option to fail them. I know adoption, especially involving foster children, is the hardest and most rewarding task I've been given. One I am committed to until I leave this earth forever.
The doctors diagnosed "unexplained infertility". I diagnosed "not meant to happen".
While I was able to embrace the philosophical (your body is meant for other purposes) I emotionally reacted to the inability of my body to perform a basic function. Get pregnant. I didn't grieve for the children I'd never born, remaining too focused on physical failure. Not being able to do what others seem easily to do.
In retrospect, the reaction is pretty self-centered. Like the alcoholic's tendancy to turn everything into a "what about me" or "why can't I do like the others do" whine. Feel sorry for me please, because "oh, how I have suffered."
With the wisdom offered by hindsight's view, I realize I was meant for harder parenting options than simply making a child. Adoption is not for the weak. The parent/child relationship is like an arranged marriage. The commitment comes first, then the love.
The process of adoption is intrusive and annoying. Birth parents are rarely questioned about their physical health, belief systems, support systems, criminal history, faith or religious beliefs. They don't have their home inspected, photographed, and displayed in a nice brochure for agencies or prospective birth mothers to view. While they do wait for the child of conception to gestate, they don't have the same fears of the agency turning them down, the birth mother changing her mind, the wait for available children.
Birth parents are also rarely asked (from my observations in public settings and from acquaintences not versed in adoption speak):
- Will he/she speak English? (to my asian child and biracial child with speech problems)
- Do you have any children of your own?
- Are they all yours? No they are not! (from a sales person worrying as my four played in a toy aisle too loudly.)
- Are you worried about them having a genetic condition? HIV exposure?
- Can you give them back if it doesn't work out?
- Are they legally yours? What about the birth mother coming and getting them back?
- They're so cute. Are they related? They don't look like each other, how can they be?
When we explored adopting special needs kids, our social worker said "This is not the same as raising an adoptive child from babyhood." I sort of believed it, but believed more in my proven ability to parent my oldest child. Naturally, I could overcome anything through patience and love. We had the proof of my eldest son, didn't we?
But the reality of bringing a sibling group into our small family was much harder than I could have imagined. What was I thinking, at age 45, when I said "yes" to immediately doubling our family. To committing to kids ages 5, 3 and 2 who had endured more grief, suffering and abandonment than I could grasp? I was thinking I could do this, I could commit and stay committed, because I had no option to let them down. To give up on them as so many other adults had so far.
In sobriety I learned commitment only can be measured in 24 hours. Sometimes less. If I can get by right now, if I can survive this difficulty, I will be stronger for the next one. Every battle we fought over the "was-5-now-is-7 child" challenged my commitment. Made me see my behaviors in a light unflattering and prompted me to change. Again in hindsight, my son's behaviors prepared me for battles to come. We are now challenged by our youngest. Tantrums, rages, destruction of property .... no problem! Been there, done that with another kid.
Commitment also involves flexibility. Try one approach, then another, then another, until you hit upon a working solution. Commitment involves asking for help and listening to advice given but maybe not asked for. Commitment involves making a promise and keeping it. Commitment involves accepting responsibility no matter the consequence.
I know our kids are better off because we are their parents now. I know I am doing a good job because I see the changes in them brought about with consistency and caring. I know a parent's love can only have a foundation in commitment, because I do not have the option to fail them. I know adoption, especially involving foster children, is the hardest and most rewarding task I've been given. One I am committed to until I leave this earth forever.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Only Time He is Quiet.....
Is when he is asleep
OTHERWISE HE TALKS AND COMPLAINS AND TALKS NON-STOP!
Knowing the other "mother"
We struggle in addressing a return letter to one of our birth mothers. How do you communicate with the woman who gave life to your kids but neglected them before and after they were born? We know she is an integral part of who they are, but can we trust that any or part of her interest has the needs of our kids in mind?
She's not been consistent contacting them since they moved in with us. She does not send letters (nonetheless gifts) on birthdays and holidays. She's had a history of chemical abuse and illegal activities, but has tried to turn her life around. She is a flawed human being, as we all are, but one who's interaction with our children can blow up in our faces at any time.
Our social worker has mentioned she's concerned about the birth mom's fragility and ability to remain on track with her reformed life. I've told the social worker we cannot be responsible for her sobriety or living the legal life. We cannot exist in a codependent relationship with her - we are not responsible for her.
So we've authored a simple, cautious return reply. And we are keeping our identity secret for as long as possible. (PLEASE, no SURPRISE visits from birth mom!)
She's not been consistent contacting them since they moved in with us. She does not send letters (nonetheless gifts) on birthdays and holidays. She's had a history of chemical abuse and illegal activities, but has tried to turn her life around. She is a flawed human being, as we all are, but one who's interaction with our children can blow up in our faces at any time.
Our social worker has mentioned she's concerned about the birth mom's fragility and ability to remain on track with her reformed life. I've told the social worker we cannot be responsible for her sobriety or living the legal life. We cannot exist in a codependent relationship with her - we are not responsible for her.
So we've authored a simple, cautious return reply. And we are keeping our identity secret for as long as possible. (PLEASE, no SURPRISE visits from birth mom!)
Friday, April 24, 2009
What I am Reading - Mercy by Jodi Picoult
I love her books. Each written with amazing characters, believable plot lines, real situations. She reminds me that life is never easy, and never meant to be fair.
The Little Guys Rule
My daughter is home today. Her kindergarten class had the day off. So the youngest has the day off too. Our neighbors are having a garage sale, so I planned to bring over old toys, strollers, clothes, etc. My kids grabbed on to half of what I brought over. And brought it back.
Sigh.
Oh, yes, they added some "new" toys our neighbor's daughter was getting rid of.
Double sigh.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Hot Weather = Kids Outside = Outside Creations from Mom
Now that we are on our Minnesota Manic weather swing, the kids can be outside more. Yahooo! Our neighbor hooked up her sprinkler and the youngest two played in it for two hours. Oh, yeah, guess I better get out the sunscreen.
I took a little time to create a dragonfly with electric fence wire, chicken wire fencing, and decorative glass. Here's the final project. This little gal measures about 12" and hangs on the house. (Note to self. Wire is sharp. So wear gloves!)
I like wire and metal art. I like creating. We have some sheets of copper and I've been thinking about fashioning it into some more creatures. Pulling together the ideas with the reality raises obstacles. Like how to join thick wire shapes together without solder. I used thin craft wire but that has a tenancy to rust and disintegrate over time. Ones I made a few years ago out of plastic coated wire
The ones below are store bought. I like butterflies and dragonflies. (No horse flies or house flies for me! **Shudder**)
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
No Men in Short Shorts ----- PLEASE
Dear Icky Guy who Runs During Lunch Hour,
I've seen you run through the nearby business parking lots during the noon hour. I admire your willingness to get all disgusting and sweaty while the rest of your coworkers are downing a Big Mac and Large Fries or the freshest sandwich at Holiday's deli counter.
But, we must talk about your shorts. Really, we must. They are too short. Goofy short. Speedo short. Diaper short. You obviously care about your health and maybe very little about your appearance. But for the sake of the poor fast food eaters, the drivers exiting the car wash, the moms in minivans who watch way too much "What Not to Wear", you must stop the insanity.
You remind me of this guy from Reno 911. Yes, he looks goofy. Now picture your face pasted on his body. And a mom in a minivan watching you.
Icky. Now go change!
Sincerely,
Sappho
I've seen you run through the nearby business parking lots during the noon hour. I admire your willingness to get all disgusting and sweaty while the rest of your coworkers are downing a Big Mac and Large Fries or the freshest sandwich at Holiday's deli counter.
But, we must talk about your shorts. Really, we must. They are too short. Goofy short. Speedo short. Diaper short. You obviously care about your health and maybe very little about your appearance. But for the sake of the poor fast food eaters, the drivers exiting the car wash, the moms in minivans who watch way too much "What Not to Wear", you must stop the insanity.
You remind me of this guy from Reno 911. Yes, he looks goofy. Now picture your face pasted on his body. And a mom in a minivan watching you.
Icky. Now go change!
Sincerely,
Sappho
We're Almost Done with April?
Good lord. Or good goddess. Whatever the phrase, the fact we are now almost through with April astounds me.
My life has been BUSY. My second child blossomed with new behaviors resulting in suspension from school. He was medicated, then we increased medication. Now we are at a stable point where I don't have to go to school 4-5 days a week to check on him.
I had a medical procedure which landed me in the hospital overnight. I had another procedure to check on something discovered in an MRI. When this cleared up, I resumed my daily 1-2 dogs walks. Then I came down with the bubonic cold. Or would that be bionic cold?
My 4th son was seen by a local pediatric geneticist who confirmed he has physical characteristics of fetal alcohol. We suspected such as his behavior has been escalating into amazing rages. Keep in mind, he is 4.5 years. A little guy can destroy his room when given the chance. I've begun the First Step process to get him testing for various conditions. He does well with his preschool, but saves the rages and bad behavior for his lucky and loving parents.
My daughter turns six in two days. She can be so loving but also displays the attitude of a 16-year-old. Oh, what fun! She is a sister Taurus, so we share the same temperament. I will be 48 and I don't feel a day over 60.
So this is the life of a stay at home parent with 4 kids. Each child has his or her own special needs, the easiest with ADHD, the hardest with a whole alphabet of diagnosis. I don't question why I don't blog more. I know why. Life happens and the effort of taking time to record it exhausts me.
My life has been BUSY. My second child blossomed with new behaviors resulting in suspension from school. He was medicated, then we increased medication. Now we are at a stable point where I don't have to go to school 4-5 days a week to check on him.
I had a medical procedure which landed me in the hospital overnight. I had another procedure to check on something discovered in an MRI. When this cleared up, I resumed my daily 1-2 dogs walks. Then I came down with the bubonic cold. Or would that be bionic cold?
My 4th son was seen by a local pediatric geneticist who confirmed he has physical characteristics of fetal alcohol. We suspected such as his behavior has been escalating into amazing rages. Keep in mind, he is 4.5 years. A little guy can destroy his room when given the chance. I've begun the First Step process to get him testing for various conditions. He does well with his preschool, but saves the rages and bad behavior for his lucky and loving parents.
My daughter turns six in two days. She can be so loving but also displays the attitude of a 16-year-old. Oh, what fun! She is a sister Taurus, so we share the same temperament. I will be 48 and I don't feel a day over 60.
So this is the life of a stay at home parent with 4 kids. Each child has his or her own special needs, the easiest with ADHD, the hardest with a whole alphabet of diagnosis. I don't question why I don't blog more. I know why. Life happens and the effort of taking time to record it exhausts me.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
What did you do in January? February?
My partner has been "reminding" me to blog. I think blogging is like exercise because 1) they are both good for mind and soul; 2) a regular practice of both is necessary to improve; and 3) once the daily regiment is interrupted procrastination or sheer unwillingness to follow through reign.
So I am blogging. Take that Procrastination!
January, hmmm, that cold and unforgiving month brought illness into the family: kids were sick and home from school. I nearly forgot my 9 year sobriety anniversary, part by purpose and part by my uneasiness with receiving medallions. (The original AA bunch didn't "do" medallions. Plus years of sobriety are nothing when what really matters is this 24 hour period.) Trips to urgent care for the kids. A class started for my partner. I joined the church folk group and enjoyed my first practice with people who WANTED me to ignore the sheet music, interpret and let go. I know some other stuff happened but I cannot remember!
February. Valentines. I decided (AGAIN) to make our/my own for the kids. So a new project combining clear copier transparency sheets, glue/water mixture, and "bleeding" tissue paper. I will have to blog another time about the process which results in a faux stained glass look. Cut the transparency sheets into hearts, string with wire and hang. Or create a construction paper frame, punch a hole, and string with yarn for hanging. Yes, it was that much work, but I HAD FUN!
February also brought the scheduling of my first and certainly not last colonoscopy. Yes, the prep stuff you have to drink tastes horrible (think unflavored pedialite combined with a dash of castor oil) and you are sedated (LIGHTLY) during the procedure. Unfortunately for me, the "mild discomfort" (as usual) translated into me laying on the table with a slight buzz, crying and saying OW OW OW OW. I also had a reaction to the anesthetic, which allowed us an extra special 1-2 hours in recovery. Can you say "FUN"????
A few days ago I had complications, the description of which I will spare the reader. I called the emergency GI doctor number and was connected to the on-call physician. Without me explaning much, she told me she KNEW about me because in 20 years of specialty, she'd never had a patient react like I did to the process and recovery period immediately after. (I AM SO SPECIAL! WHO KNEW?) She then recommended I go directly to hospital. With plans for overnight stay.
Emergency room 4 hours? Almost 5? Yes my symptoms were worrying. Yes I would be admitted when a BED was ready. Worst thing about the waiting was that I initially was stuck with the little overhead TV tuned to **shudder** Fox News. Had a CT scan, prior to which I drank some nasty apple juice/dye mixture, and had another concoction stuck into my veins. Then finally to my semi-private room where I was given the next thrilling task related to my butt. The special prep liquid.
Drink the nasty stuff. 8 ounces in 15 minutes. Poo. Repeat. Keep in mind, I already have activity in my plumbing which is quite unnatural. Every 15 minutes the nurses come to annotate the amount of "unnatural" poo. Have I said I poo into what is nicely called a "hat"? Think plastic thingy with cc's or mm's or whatever marked on it. Hats don't belong in toilets. Poo should go directly in the bowl. But combine the two and I experience dropping of the hat with icky poo halfway into the water. Do I flush to show respect for the poo loggers and cleaner uppers? Do I not flush so they an see I dropped the hat? (haha). Every time the industrial toilet flushes its as if a jet roars from the little commode closet. My butt hurts, my head hurts, I want to go home!
So I quit. I told the nurse I wasn't doing any more. I have booty complications and am exhausted from the long hours and blood loss. at 5:00 am I roll over and drift to sleep. Last thoughts were how much I wanted to be home. With my wife. My kids. Annoying as they ALL are....
Next morning, about 1.5 hours later, I am "cured". No more faulty poo. Blood count is OK. Docs show up. Butt is examined. GI doc says he too knows about me because of the "odd" reaction to the colonoscopy last week. (Oh joy, my 15 minutes of fame is in its second week.) They will let me go home. Soon. Really, won't take long, just some paperwork. 2 hours, 3, 5 and we are speeding out the door.
I've never been so happy to see my messy house. My naughty kids and animals. My wife.
Oh, I forgot to mention. I get to have another colonoscopy in three months. When they went in the first time they took souveniers. The pre-cancerous kind, which I hear from the butt doctor is "normal" for people around age 50. I am 47, so once again, so special! And, the CT scan showed another female plumbing issue. So I get to see another doc. Maybe if I have issues I could get a two for one deal. As long as they are inside, they can fix the ovary issue and the intestinal issue. Add some liposuction to the process and I am good as new!
I cannot wait until March. Really, cannot wait.
So I am blogging. Take that Procrastination!
January, hmmm, that cold and unforgiving month brought illness into the family: kids were sick and home from school. I nearly forgot my 9 year sobriety anniversary, part by purpose and part by my uneasiness with receiving medallions. (The original AA bunch didn't "do" medallions. Plus years of sobriety are nothing when what really matters is this 24 hour period.) Trips to urgent care for the kids. A class started for my partner. I joined the church folk group and enjoyed my first practice with people who WANTED me to ignore the sheet music, interpret and let go. I know some other stuff happened but I cannot remember!
February. Valentines. I decided (AGAIN) to make our/my own for the kids. So a new project combining clear copier transparency sheets, glue/water mixture, and "bleeding" tissue paper. I will have to blog another time about the process which results in a faux stained glass look. Cut the transparency sheets into hearts, string with wire and hang. Or create a construction paper frame, punch a hole, and string with yarn for hanging. Yes, it was that much work, but I HAD FUN!
February also brought the scheduling of my first and certainly not last colonoscopy. Yes, the prep stuff you have to drink tastes horrible (think unflavored pedialite combined with a dash of castor oil) and you are sedated (LIGHTLY) during the procedure. Unfortunately for me, the "mild discomfort" (as usual) translated into me laying on the table with a slight buzz, crying and saying OW OW OW OW. I also had a reaction to the anesthetic, which allowed us an extra special 1-2 hours in recovery. Can you say "FUN"????
A few days ago I had complications, the description of which I will spare the reader. I called the emergency GI doctor number and was connected to the on-call physician. Without me explaning much, she told me she KNEW about me because in 20 years of specialty, she'd never had a patient react like I did to the process and recovery period immediately after. (I AM SO SPECIAL! WHO KNEW?) She then recommended I go directly to hospital. With plans for overnight stay.
Emergency room 4 hours? Almost 5? Yes my symptoms were worrying. Yes I would be admitted when a BED was ready. Worst thing about the waiting was that I initially was stuck with the little overhead TV tuned to **shudder** Fox News. Had a CT scan, prior to which I drank some nasty apple juice/dye mixture, and had another concoction stuck into my veins. Then finally to my semi-private room where I was given the next thrilling task related to my butt. The special prep liquid.
Drink the nasty stuff. 8 ounces in 15 minutes. Poo. Repeat. Keep in mind, I already have activity in my plumbing which is quite unnatural. Every 15 minutes the nurses come to annotate the amount of "unnatural" poo. Have I said I poo into what is nicely called a "hat"? Think plastic thingy with cc's or mm's or whatever marked on it. Hats don't belong in toilets. Poo should go directly in the bowl. But combine the two and I experience dropping of the hat with icky poo halfway into the water. Do I flush to show respect for the poo loggers and cleaner uppers? Do I not flush so they an see I dropped the hat? (haha). Every time the industrial toilet flushes its as if a jet roars from the little commode closet. My butt hurts, my head hurts, I want to go home!
So I quit. I told the nurse I wasn't doing any more. I have booty complications and am exhausted from the long hours and blood loss. at 5:00 am I roll over and drift to sleep. Last thoughts were how much I wanted to be home. With my wife. My kids. Annoying as they ALL are....
Next morning, about 1.5 hours later, I am "cured". No more faulty poo. Blood count is OK. Docs show up. Butt is examined. GI doc says he too knows about me because of the "odd" reaction to the colonoscopy last week. (Oh joy, my 15 minutes of fame is in its second week.) They will let me go home. Soon. Really, won't take long, just some paperwork. 2 hours, 3, 5 and we are speeding out the door.
I've never been so happy to see my messy house. My naughty kids and animals. My wife.
Oh, I forgot to mention. I get to have another colonoscopy in three months. When they went in the first time they took souveniers. The pre-cancerous kind, which I hear from the butt doctor is "normal" for people around age 50. I am 47, so once again, so special! And, the CT scan showed another female plumbing issue. So I get to see another doc. Maybe if I have issues I could get a two for one deal. As long as they are inside, they can fix the ovary issue and the intestinal issue. Add some liposuction to the process and I am good as new!
I cannot wait until March. Really, cannot wait.
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