How much does fun cost?

Yesterday my youngest had two parties at Chuck E Cheese. The two middle kids were invited for the first party and only the youngest for the second. This translates into 2-4 pm party with the Chuckster, and 6-8 party again. So we played some between the parties, killed an hour and 1/2 and were back at it.

Now, I have nothing against kids parties, especially when they involve someone else cleaning up afterward. And I am not against the idea of commercialized fun, because it is a safe place to bring kids given the one entrance/exit and the hand stamp.

What I can't stand is the mouse. Whoever thought this rat-like creature made a good mascot for an entertainment chain must have not worn glasses the day they approved the concept. The almost-crossed eyes, the gray and pink contrast. ***shiver****

The second party featured the Cheese-ster walking around with an unfortunate youth who had to rally kids to walk with Chuckie throughout the store. I couldn't find my daughter when we were about to leave only to see her holding IT'S hand. After the Pied Piper of Cheese made it to the front, another worker joined this Rat-thing for a hip-hop dance. My thoughts of pity for the poor fool trapped in the costume diminished a bit when I saw the Mouse stumble and obviously attempt to fake their way through the dance. After getting 20-some kids to jive, they rewarded the bunch by throwing handfuls of used tickets to the crowd. The manage reminded everyone NOT to shove and push or FIGHT over the tickets. My daughter ended up with a small handful and an exercise in the law of supply and demand.

Overall, I spent $60 in tokens (it was payday!) and 4+ hours at the place. I was able to prove once again my skills at skeeball and Dino-dash. The kids were tired and cranky but slept in this morning.

So despite my loathing of the Mouse, a good time was had by all. Worth the $60? I wasn't paying for the parties so I guess we got a bargain!

Its a sickness, my friend

Ever hear the one about the mid-lifer who figured out her body just couldn't do what her body did 25 years ago? Well, she was right. No joke here, just reflecting my own musings.

I was sick for two days last week over MEA weekend. I hate when my kids are off school. OK, maybe HATE is too strong. But how can I capture the set-up and discouragement involved in planning a couple days activities only to have them go to hell? I was sick Thursday with a roaring headache and then puking Friday. Sleeping until my back hurt from sleeping.

I'd planned swimming. Pumpkin carving. Halloween costume shopping. I'd planned movies and movement to keep us existing through the day. But no, my body had other ideas. Like putting me flat on my back.

My partner took off work because my kids can't be left without supervision. Especially the youngest, who is constant movement from wake-up to bed-time. She did OK, but by Sunday was doing the usual chant of "I can't wait to leave this house for work on Monday." Who would have thought the best part of someone's life was to leave the house for work?

Granted, I like feeling well and doing what needs to be done. I LOVE having the kids out of the house and tucked safely at school for the day. Having my partner gone is good too, because its just me and the animals and they don't ask for much other than an open door now and then and a bowl of food.

So a week later and I am finally back 100%. No flu. No blood pressure problems. But recalling how much I used to be able to bounce back into health is too depressing. So I will just accept that I am middle age and shut down for now.

I Dream in Comics

Since I've been an adult, I dream of famous people interacting with me in various settings. What makes this odd is that the people in my dreams are usually male and always comedians. I've dreamed of: Tina Fey, Chris Rock, Eddie Murphy, John Candy, John Goodman, to name a few. I have no idea what this means in dream speak, but me identifying with famous funny people must be tied to my own sense of humor and its ties to my self identity.


I like being funny. Making people laugh (sometimes) comes easily for me. I think interacting with comedians is a safe activity. Certainly a fun one.



But a new character came into my dreams yesterday. Not a comedian. Jimmy Smits is his name. I first "met" him TV-wise back on LA Law. He was a hot guy then and still is. But comedy? NO!

Evidently, I am also an equal opportunity dreamer. Male and female, African American and Latino. Maybe to fill out my dance card I should look up more comics of other ethnicities. Or study on other actors more known for their dramatic portrayals.

AND...... Why can't I pick who I dream about? Like GLBT supporter Mariska Hargitay? Maybe if I look up her profile and find some "comedic-type things" she's said, I could allow my subconscious to change her category to female comic.

Maybe I should go nap and see what I can come up with, in my dreams.

What About Commitment?

In the past, the word commitment brought to mind more the idea of involuntary incarceration in a mental facility. "She was ready for commitment, so they brought the guys in the white coats and gave her a nice fitted jacket and padded cell."

When I think about commitment in relationship to family, thoughts about putting up with annoying or offensive extended family habits and beliefs comes to mind. "She was committed to being involved in family gatherings although they left her racked with inner turmoil upon completion." Commitment to family mean I'd abide (on the surface) without regard to personal cost.

As for marriage, commitment mean little. The words "until death us do part" was just part of the ceremony. I think the idea I'd been brought up on was that marriage (for a woman) was THE ANSWER. Fulfillment could only be found in marriage to a man (he being the HEAD OF THE HOUSE) and children which were naturally brought into a marriage. The idea I could break that commitment through divorce terrified me so much I could not act on divorce until I'd brought myself low through self destructive behaviors. I had no desire for counseling or intervention to save marriage which had decayed into nothing worth keeping. In this relationship, we don't have the legal commitment by law. We have the commitment involving our children which to me is bigger than the two of us.

I had little commitment to my own well-being, finding pleasure only in becoming what others wanted me to become. Wife, mother, second-class being, student, friend. No where in my upbringing was the concept I had value alone. Without my relation to another person, institution or god. I was taught conformity to THE WORLD was bad. But conformity to god (and this included the particular brand of religion and moral standards I was raised in) was good. I think becoming an alcoholic was easy for me, because I had the means to find the ease and comfort through an external substance. When I was using, all the inner turmoil, the supposed commitment to my moral standards could be tossed aside.

I am slowing coming to understand my own "brand" of commitment through recovery and my relation to my children. Recovery taught me about commitment to daily surrender. The idea that I could learn a moral recovery that had value to me, that the value I held dear could not be touched by the opinions of others. I must remain committed to those I care about in recovery and those who I don't care about. Those close to me have a value found only in reciprocated love and caring. Those not close to me, still suffering, sober but still in the disease, still are owed my commitment to them in giving respect and support. I can't be careless to those who need me, or don't YET know they need me.

As for my kids, commitment to them stands until I am dead. They have little choice, as minor children who've born losses I cannot comprehend, to do anything by trust and rely upon me to BE THERE FOR THEM despite what they do. The minute I begin holding resentment against them for their behaviors and wedge my own selfish needs above theirs, I let the parenting commitment slip a little. I can't be careless for those who need me.

As for my daily commitments, I am responsible to feed and clothe my kids. I am responsible for the animals in my care. I am responsible to better my partnership which sometimes involves fulfilling household responsibilities I hate, attending counseling sessions which can be painful, and trying to offer the best of who I am no matter the situation.

Almost Famous Crock Pot Chili Recipe - Yum!

Crock Pot Chili

• 6 cups beans (canned or dried beans heated and soaked overnight)
• 1 chopped onion
• 3 chopped tomatoes
• 4 cloves garlic, chopped
  
• 1 cup chopped carrots
• 1 cup chopped celery
• 1+ lb cooked meat (hamburger, beef roast, pork roast, chicken, turkey)
• 3 cans beef or chicken broth
• 2 cans condensed tomato soup or 1 can tomato paste
• 2 packets taco or fajita seasoning
• 1 Tsp cumin
• 1 Tsp oregano
• 1 Tsp paprika
• 1 tsp salt

INGREDIENTS
Dried Beans: Use black, chili, pinto, red, navy, great northern, white. I don't use kidney or lima. Put around 3 cups mixed dried beans in sauce pan and fill with 6 cups water. Bring to boil for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cover. Let rest overnight. You will see that black beans color the other beans and I think dissolve a bit when cooking. (cool!) Drain beans. Into crockpot they go!
Canned Beans: Use mix of same and drain. Really, kidney and lima beans just don't work for this.
About the Broth: Good chili isn't all about tomatoes. A balance of broth AND tomatoes PLUS the right spices give more flavor, less heartburn. I freeze broth from roasted chicken, beef or pork.
Frozen Left-Overs: Save chopped for chili by freezing. Use this meat within a month or so of freezing. Freeze chopped onions and carrots. I haven't tried freezing beans I've prepared from dried.

PREPARING
Put all in crockpot first thing in the morning. Run on high the first 4-5 hours and turn to low. Depending on the dried beans, they should be soft after around 10-12 hours. Maybe planning this a 3 day project if using dried is the plan. If using canned beans, the whole pot should be done around 3-4 hours on high. 6-8 on low.

All is Well....... Today

No problems with the stress test yesterday. I got to see my old records from 2003 when I went through this heart business at a very inopportune time (Thanksgiving). Seems the heart ultrasound is the same, stress test results are the same. Same. Same. Good. Good.

I'd like to know why I am so tired. Why I can't seem to get back to address what bothers me now. The piles around the house, trying to get the laundry done, keeping it all together. Maybe I will learn something from yet another doctor appointment Friday.

So no incredibly sarcastic comments to provide here. No pithy insight. Just the day-after-hospital "hangover" complete with malaise.

Good thing blogging is free, because if I was earning income off this post I'd be paying THEM rather than expecting anyone to pay me! (Let's go watch some paint dry, shall we? Pass the pillow and blanket, please!)

Hearts a Pounding

After several days of enjoying the stupidity of denial, I went to the ER to have my heart checked out. I didn't feel stressed when we checked in, but my blood pressure upon check-in was 177 over120. Getting into serious heart issues, based on the pressure.

Five hours later and I am finally done. No serious issues found, but I go back to the hospital today for a stress test. Yipee. At least I didn't have to stay overnight, as was offered to me.

My issues with overnight hospital stays are based on my stays of the past. Back a few years my heart was having irregular beats, so I ended up in an ambulance on the way to the hospital while my parents, partner, kid, and other family members watched. Last year after a colon procedure I had bleeding issues and ended up overnight after several hours in the ER. Until 5 a.m. I had to drink the prep fluid and other awful stuff ensued. Basically, my experience has not been good. And you don't get any sleep. And the beds are uncomfortable.

I don't want to have serious heart health issues as my dad does. I don't want high blood pressure issues as does my mom. But the control I have over my health is balanced against genetics. And sometimes genetics has more say than my puny health efforts.

So on to take a nap before I go to the hospital. Again. Like it or not, I am nervous with a racing pulse. Maybe this will raise my blood pressure to spectacular highs like yesterday!