Light

Midlife crisis

Okay, so who am I kidding. I started my midlife crisis the day I lay down in bed with my husband and told him I loved him and he said "I love you too, I guess." I've been on the edge of all manner of falling apart in terror of THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANTED MY LIFE TO BE AT THIS AGE for three years now. And I'd really like it to stop now because I'm tired of it.

When I was a kid, I was regularly teased, picked on and otherwise harassed. In the 7th grade there was one girl who won her cool points almost entirely by threatening bodily harm upon me daily (she was six feet tall when we were, thirteen...terrifying). There was one whole group of kids who gained acceptance by making fun of my clothes, my lack of stuff and my family's make up. There was another group who snubbed me for my lack of athletic ability (very important in rural communities everywhere) and my surprisingly already well defined liberal ideology. I begged for my mother's attention but she wasn't the Mother Bear who I somehow managed to become. She, I suppose, took a different tact to life...try to blend in...don't rock the boat...don't anger the beast. She placated me with platitudes about how these kids were really "sad" and didn't know how else to show it, or that the best revenge was living well.

It was that idea, that somehow in some unhealthy way that took over my being. That one day my revenge would be visited upon these assholes who hurt me because I was now BETTER than them. I'd have more money, a better husband, smarter kids...I'd show them all that they spurned the WRONG person! Well it sounds kind of stupid when you say it out loud, doesn't it?

But that is really what has burned in me for so many years...until...until I realized how it was all falling apart. My marriage was not only a mess, it seemed highly probable that my husband never even loved me in the first place. We'd been floating along financially, maybe looking a bit like we were keeping up with the Joneses, but we both knew it was a big pretense...often his pretense but I did little to discourage it. My kids are both beautiful and smart, but it was even then alarmingly apparent that things just were not okay with my oldest son....something was seriously awry and no one could seem to tell me what it was. I didn't have many friends to speak of, and a few of my friendships that I did have here were really quite dysfunctional.

For awhile, somehow, I clung to the idea that I would find a way to rise out of this mess smelling like roses...that somehow I could still be the person they'd all be sorry they hurt. I struggled to define myself in some crazy way that would be better than all those "better than you assholes" of my youth. About a year ago though, I fell into a very deep depression, severe enough that I thought seriously that there was no resolution for it. I had a hard time getting out of bed most days and a hard time dragging myself through my days. Although housekeeping has never been my forte, things fell further behind than ever. I stayed home more and more...my only social activity being a monthly get together with women I know from church.

I knew what was happening to me although, stupidly I really didn't realize it had much of anything to do with my upcoming 40th birthday or the realization that my life was never going to look that great to anyone else. I took medications for depression. I gained 40 lbs. I got off the medications. I cried a lot. I tried supplements. I read books. I was not getting better, not for a lack of trying...but I wasn't getting better. And I didn't know why. Maybe I still don't but I think it has a lot to do with this...I have never learned how to accept my life, indeed myself, as I am, without regard to whether or not anyone approves, disapproves, is insanely jealous of, or thinks it pathetic. I've never learned to love my life...myself...because of my OWN relationship to it. And that's a bad place to be.

There isn't a happily ever after tag to this post, and yes, I realize it is intensely personal and maybe not quite readable. It's mine though. I'd like to try to respect that. So I'm going to hit publish, okay?

There is rarely evidence of magic.

I said that to Barb recently. Quite recently actually. I was teasing her about not being able to get the light right to photograph her magical giant tomato...the one she dreamed about last night. Yeah. I really need to learn to shut up.

Maybe you remember my kid got ripped off by a magical creature a few years ago. We've been waiting for that guido to cough up the goods for quite some time now. This morning my kids met me at church (it's their weekend with their dad) and someone was a twitter with the newest spring blossom. We had a few hours together while their dad was in class and I tried with all my might to capture photographic evidence.



































Apparently this getting the light right thing is a bigger problem than I anticipated.

At any rate, the news as of today is that this look...

is officially on limited supply. We'll miss it, but we're pretty excited too.

Rules to live by...

As parents we find ourselves making up rules all the time on the fly. At least I do. And apparently my friend Lisa does too. Check her out, because she's cool.

Rules from the Meanest Mommy

Iowa Rocks

Seriously.

24 hours deep

It's really not that bad. Hahaha. Okay I've cried once, but it was more getting teary eyed. I've gotten extremely tense a few times, but honestly, I talked myself through it. It is kind of amazing that something I have struggled with for more than half my lifetime is a simple matter of saying..."Okay, I expected to feel this, I can get through it." And just going through it. Where might I have been if I had mastered this skill at say, 21?

Ah well. I'm here now, that' s what matters.

On another note, the if the intensity about wanting a dog was NOT at a fevered pitch a week ago...boy howdy it is now. We watched "Marley and Me" and my boys are now officially insane about it. And I'm about three steps behind them. We are ready for puppy love.

15 hours

I am 15 hours in...so far no irrepressible urges to kill have popped up. I've only seen spots once. (I'm so not joking...you know I've been smoking for roughly 24 years, right?)

My friend Shari (who's blog is in my list on the right, but I must have been doing some other drugs that day because I spelled her name wrong) sent me this kick ass beautiful bracelet when I was going through the divorce. I don't wear it often, just on days that I need strength. It's been to a lot of IEP meetings and a few court proceedings. It was on my wrist when I had my first date and I have a feeling it will be there for a few weeks. But mostly it's all good. And I've only eaten a tiny bit of chocolate. :)

Fat Tuesday

So... I haven't talked about this much because I'm sort of "in the closet" with some of my Internet friends. Which is funny you know, because I'm coming out of the closet about being a smoker so I can tell you I'm quitting. Tomorrow is my official quit date. Not that it's a joke, but what better day to quit smoking than April Fool's Day? Casting off a particularly harsh foolishness and hopefully embracing some of the fun silly kind. I've quit a few times in my past, for over a year at a time, so I know I can do this...but any support and hugs and love you can offer would be appreciated. In the mean time, I'm being extra nice to myself today. I'm enjoying a big fluffy coffee drink and getting my hair done later. I don't think I'll be flashing anyone, but this is really my version of Fat Tuesday. Bidding a bit of gluttony adieu. (I'll probably continue to take care of my hair in the future though...just so you know).

I've been prepping for my quit date for a few weeks now. I've cut down quite a lot and I signed up for the Iowa Quitline program. The counselor there is nice, but really doesn't care too much about knowing the people he talks to, as evidenced by the fact that for two weeks now he's asked me the same questions over and over. And doesn't seem to remember me much at all. But he did give me a bit of good advice that I never would have thought of doing in preparation for quitting. Yes I knew to cleanse my smoking spaces and throw out all my "stuff." I realized that I needed to change my patterns (for me it meant giving up smoking in the car before quitting...since that is pretty much the only place I've been allowed to smoke anyway). But he told me, "Now if you have to take your cigarettes with you, you should probably put them in the trunk of your car, so you can't just grab them." This to me was brilliant. I left them there full time, so that no matter when I decided I wanted a cigarette, it had to be a big process. It really did help me change my patterns.

Happy Tuesday, my friends.

Man, I hate that.

The hardest thing about my divorce these days is the way it makes me feel about people who have nothing to do with my situation. The word "step-mother" makes me irrationally defensive and angry. Seeing any one's mother referred to as an "egg-donor" makes me want to hurt people. So hard to always know the right thing to do with my own um..."other woman"...when I'm trying to discern between hating the situation and what is really kind of ridiculous behavior from her. Because, you know, one clouds the other.

And can someone please tell me, why are all the blogs about the moms and step-moms. Why is there no responsibility ever put on the shoulders of the men who put themselves in the middle?

Wandering thoughts...just cleansing my palette, so to speak.

Sleeping for spite

It is always when you least expect it that you get exactly what you want. No, I'm not talking about that BS myth that when you stop looking for true love it finds you. That's mythology promoting mental illness. What I'm talking about is meeting goals of parenting. My example comes from last evening. I'd given Dev the obligatory 15 minutes more than his younger brother at bedtime. This actually is for me more than being a gift of being older. If they go to bed at the same time they keep each other up, but if we allow his brother 15 minutes upstairs alone, he drops off nicely and Dev usually can fall right to sleep too. I know, I'm manipulative.

Last night when his 15 minutes were up, he decided that he WOULD NOT go to bed. He tried to butter me up. "Mom, I want to beeeee with you." When that didn't work he just got mad. He went to his room and kicked the walls, sure to wake his brother so I called him back down. We had a very sincere discussion about why trying to sleep in the living room while mom did her grown up stuff never works. And he protested that I was wrong. "Dev," I said. "What am I supposed to do here? Either you are going to go up there and ruin your brother's sleep so he will have a bad day tomorrow, or you'll stay down here and ruin your own sleep so you will have a bad day tomorrow." At this point honestly, I didn't expect for anything to go well at all. One thing you know about having a child with a mood disorder is that this stuff which is a small hurdle for some families is a major event for you. He looked at me and crossed his arms and harumphed.

"I guess I'll just have to SHOW YOU." And with that, he grabbed a blanket and a pillow, curled up in a ball in his play tent and within 5 minutes was softly snoring...very possibly the first time a child has ever gone to sleep just to spite his mother. Okay, probably not, there are a lot of moms and children out there, but still.

Here, now.

If you hadn't noticed I'm making an effort to update my blog a little more often. I always wanted to be one of those happy "blog every day" girls but between you and I, even if I had something interesting to say every day, I just can't figure out how to do it when the boys are at home. Between working and parenting it's the best I can do to drop onto the sofa at 9 pm every evening...and while I often am sitting with the box on my lap at that time, actually saying something of value? Not likely. At that point it is really just napping with my eyes open.

Tuesday night was wonderful. Liz Gilbert was every bit as delightful, humorous and thought provoking in person as she is in her writing. I spent the entire speech thinking "Oh I've got to blog this part." But alas...I believe that would be a rip off of the really bad kind, because I would only be regurgitating her speech, and in bad form. But the long and the short of it was...life goes on. Liz, probably to the disappointment of many, didn't become a guru, blissfully in a state of elevated awareness following her journey. She, like all of us, continues her journey every day, good days and bad days, though I think she's probably more aware than she was prior to setting off for Italy. I think what I took away from it more than anything is that old Buddhist saying, one that I shared with my favorite five and six year-old kids in church a few weeks ago..."Be here now." Trying to live in a past no matter how glorious or embattled is fruitless...the past is written and it can not be undone. Trying to live in the future, well, it simply can not be reached. The only thing that can be controlled is now. And it is a pretty glorious thing.

Life around here hobbles on. Money is tight...as it is for most everyone. I'm baking more and going out less. I am spending my entire tax return on making up the difference on my hours that have been cut this quarter. I hope to put a tiny bit of it aside to help pay for tennis lessons for the boys this summer. We are visiting schools this coming week...we aren't entirely happy with the dynamic at the school the boys have been attending. We've narrowed it down to two (but honestly, I think I've already decided upon the school for Elyas). Dev will be attending one of two special ed programs next fall, provided we can get him past the wait lists. It is so sad to me that kids in need of special programming have to jump through these kinds of hoops.

I'm looking forward to spring, and trying to decide if I want to really try some kind of patio gardening this year. It is times like this that I really do wish I had my own home. But I do have a nice little patio out there, which I could just as well cover with plants. I can't spade up part of the yard, but I could, theoretically, do something, right? Anyone got a good book or three to share with me? I have to admit I'm clueless.

I suppose this is hardly a barn burner of an entry...but hey, I'm here!

Ohhh...goody!

Tonight I'm off to a wonderful event called the Smart Talk Series. I'm not exactly of the tax bracket that would allow me to buy a full season pass for this thing, but I am fortunate that my employer is a sponsor of the series...I was giddy excited when I heard about tonight's speaker, and was ready to go into debt to pay for it. But my boss, (who is beautiful AND smart AND kind) offered to let me use one of the company's passes. The kicker is, I also get a VIP pass so I can MEET her.

Of course the "her" to whom I refer is Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the monumental Best Seller "Eat, Pray, Love." I don't know if I'll have the courage to tell her how it was a bridge of hope to me as I was passing through my divorce. But I know it will be an awesome night for me!

Life lessons with ketchup

"Anyone want ketchup?" I called to the boys over my shoulder. We rarely eat lunch when we visit our local children's museum, but they were so exceptionally behaved today (and I didn't want to make lunch) I indulged us all.

"Is there barbecue sauce for my chicken fingers?" I glanced around the service station.

"No honey, I don't think so...ketchup, mustard, and..."

"Tartar sauce," he said from my elbow with a scowl. Ah crap. Such a nice afternoon about to go up in flames over barbecue sauce.

"I'm sorry, sweets." He shook my hand from his shoulder and returned to the table with a handful of ketchup packets. I admired his willingness to press on. It isn't so easy, you know. A few minutes later I looked up to a cry of anguish to see that one of the ketchup packets had exploded all over the front of his sweatshirt. I helped him remove the sweat shirt (to reveal the too small shirt of his brother's that he'd put on under) but still he pressed on. Elyas was busy babbling about what was playing at the IMAX, and what does this rating mean and that rating mean. Dev was silent and scowling. Finally I asked what was with the face.

"I'm...concerned...about my run of bad luck."

I smiled at him and assured him I thought it was changing. I went to grab some extra napkins at the other end of the service station, and there it was...the barbecue sauce. I smiled brightly. "Look, Dev!"

He looked down at the fragment of one chicken finger and sighed heavily, tears in his eyes. "At least you can have some with the last of it."

"I want barbecue sauce too!" Elyas squeaked...Dev passed it across the table. "It's not very good barbecue sauce, Elyas...I don't like it you can have it." He went back to his ketchup and brightened for the first time since we'd sat down. "So Mom, do you think my luck has changed enough that we can get ice cream?"

It meant a lot, this afternoon. My kid learning that luck changes because we allow it to change. Maybe I'm learning that too. That's cool.

My wordle

You'll find me at the door

I've been told that one of the most pivotal times in a child's life is the day he realizes that his parent, parents, or parental figure is fallible. It is natural that they hold us in such high regard. They come into this world with no reference to it but us. They look to us as the arbiters of their existence, shaping their truths about everything from how to eat and speak and garner attention, to how to function in complex social situations, how to manage their own emotions, how to breech their way into the world, alone. We all probably remember an earth shattering moment when one of those people in our lives disappointed us. And yet even that disappointment instructed us further.

The interesting thing, I think, is that each parent too must go through the realization, on a deep level, that our children too are merely human. It isn't exactly the same sort of revelation. We all know on an intellectual level that they will lie to us, will do stupid things in high school, will make ridiculous choices in love. We joke about it sometimes with each other. But I think that most parents, like myself, hold a tiny infant in our hands on that first birthday awe inspired at its perfection, and make a solemn internal vow to preserve and protect it for all time. As time passes we beat ourselves silly over choices we've made and train ourselves to agonize more and more over each decision. Why wouldn't we, we have the power of a god over something we adore more than our own lives? It's a painful process this parenting. Or maybe that's just me, I suppose I shouldn't impose my baggage upon anyone else.

Sooner or later though in the process of parenting these miraculous gifts we stumble upon the painful shocking realization that they are not perfect, not in the cute "Oh I dread the day she has her first heartbreak" way, but in a real gut wrenching, eye popping way of knowing deep in your soul that this can all go terribly wrong - and there is not a single thing you can do to change it if it does. I think that perhaps parents of special needs kids understand it a lot earlier on. Or maybe not, but we have regular reminders that keep us well grounded in the truth that we are not the gods we are made out to be. We know that each moment is a lifetime in itself. That is where we know the truth about our children, good, bad or indifferent. That is where we know ourselves. That is where we rediscover the perfection of that first birthday again and again.

I find myself realizing more each day that I am not an arbiter of truth. I am merely the woman at each doorway, coaxing my children to pass through them to see another facet of life they haven't seen before. Okay, maybe sometimes yelling at them to come through, sometimes trying to pick them up and carry them through. But always the holder of the door. Door holding certainly isn't as authoritative as a gatekeeper, nor as glamorous as an arbiter. Door holders smile a lot as they watch others pass by on their way to things they themselves may never see. But they are crucial, particularly for people who can't open doors for themselves.

Just the facts, ma'am

And then there was this time when I stopped having anything to say...

I know. I KNOW. I've neglected both my blog and my blogging friends. I'd like to tell you I'm ashamed, but I'm not. I just kind of lost my wistful desire to be all...introspective, I suppose. Not that I have to be introspective, I could just tell you about life right? But no...too much of what constitutes my life is tangled up in my children's life, who, amongst many other things, deserve some privacy. Needless to say I've been a bit stumped as to what I might say if I opened up my blog, and often, anyone else's.

But I'm here and freezing my butt off in Iowa. In the last month you missed...hum...my furnace breaking down, locking my keys in the house on the way to a holiday party, lots of meetings with lots of people who frustrate me, constant reminders as to why my marriage did. not. work. and of course my 40th birthday. Actually turning 40 was about the best thing. I feared it, but so far, I'm rather liking my new decade, sans the new white hairs sprouting on my head. No worries though, they accept color exceedingly well I'm told and I will probably find out more about that soon.

On Thursday I will take a little trip to the University of Iowa with my son for some more tests. We've had lots of tests lately. He's been a champ about all of them, which means he's the perfect compliment to his neurotic mother.

I've spent more time with my girls, in fact we had a fantastic dinner for my birthday. My friend, Kristin makes beautiful jewelry, and she gifted me with a pair of these and a matching pendant for a gift. She's really a beautiful woman and a great friend. If you are looking for something wonderful for a holiday gift, I'd encourage you to browse her site.

All that being said, I hope you are warm and enjoying your holiday season. Me, I'm just trying to figure out how to talk again (smiles).

Hope

Last night I participated, as I did four years ago, in a quick paced, heart-pounding Internet chat with some of my fellows who were as excited and nervous about election night returns. Four years ago we cried, and we did last night too, in very different ways. It's no secret I'm a life long democrat, and the race of the candidate really would never have outweighed my vote, but we can all agree that it was a breath-taking moment in our history. For me personally, as a spiritual humanist(and still atheist) mom to two brilliant (and handsome) biracial boys, I feel a special kinship for this President-Elect.

As the hours wore on, I recalled to my friends in chat, that when Barack Obama spoke at the Democratic National Convention in 2004 I had turned to my then husband breathlessly and said "That man is going to be president in 2008!" He had replied that I was a little bit crazy. My friends, they are excellent friends, and they know their job well. "Well Ei, you are brilliant and your ex is an idiot." Yes, they are kind and caring women. But this was an important time to not just accept the ego strokes. "No, I said. I'm a white Midwestern girl. Idealism is easy for me. Being an idealistic black man is much harder." Which, really, is the remarkable thing about all of this. This man, in this time...won on for the biggest part on a platform of HOPE. That says more to me about this nation and who we are than I know how to express.

But you can call me Iggy...

I thought this one was interestingly on the mark, for a silly little quiz.

Your result for Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz...

You Are an Ingrid!

You are an Ingrid -- "I am unique"

Ingrids have sensitive feelings and are warm and perceptive.

How to Get Along with Me

• * Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me.


• * Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself.


• * Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision.


• * Though I don't always want to be cheered up when I'm feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little.


• * Don't tell me I'm too sensitive or that I'm overreacting!

What I Like About Being an Ingrid

• * my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level


• * my ability to establish warm connections with people


• * admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life


• * my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor


• * being unique and being seen as unique by others


• * having aesthetic sensibilities


• * being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me

What's Hard About Being an Ingrid

• * experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair


• * feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don't deserve to be loved


• * feeling guilty when I disappoint people


• * feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me


• * expecting too much from myself and life


• * fearing being abandoned


• * obsessing over resentments


• * longing for what I don't have

Ingrids as Children Often

• * have active imaginations: play creatively alone or organize playmates in original games


• * are very sensitive


• * feel that they don't fit in


• * believe they are missing something that other people have


• * attach themselves to idealized teachers, heroes, artists, etc.


• * become antiauthoritarian or rebellious when criticized or not understood


• * feel lonely or abandoned (perhaps as a result of a death or their parents' divorce)

Ingrids as Parents

• * help their children become who they really are


• * support their children's creativity and originality


• * are good at helping their children get in touch with their feelings


• * are sometimes overly critical or overly protective


• * are usually very good with children if not too self-absorbed

Take Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz at HelloQuizzy

Today, as part of National Mental Illness Awareness Week, is Bipolar Disorder Awareness Day. NAMI (The National Alliance on Mental Illness) encourages people to join the Bipolar Disorder Awareness effort. You can play a part in the event by:

-Learning more about the symptoms of bipolar disorder.
-Participating in a free mental health screening.
-Reaching out to individuals who have bipolar disorder.
-Encouraging individuals with bipolar disorder to seek treatment.

Bipolar disorder has played a larger role in my life than I had ever imagined possible, considering I don't have it myself. But nevertheless it has, and continues to shape, my life. Peace & love all.

Encouragement

A few nights ago I was sitting around too much food and beer with some of the loveliest women I've ever known. We do this these days, once a month, hovering around an odd assortment of whatever we felt like throwing together (or toting out of the liquor store) and just catching up on life. In college we would have had cookie dough, but you know, it is still good.


We make our way around and share our stories...who was fighting with her husband? Who made up with her girlfriend? Whose kids are struggling at college? Whose preschoolers broke their glasses, again? Who has done something noteworthy this month? Who has done something slightly naughty? It's all out there, and I find I often go home and sleep better than I have for weeks, not because of the wine (Hello! It does help!) but because I feel like I've been emptied out and filled back up. I suppose Keith Richards might know the feeling (or not).

Of course I shared my latest stories of parenting my special needs kiddo, since my life is neither noteworthy or naughty, at least not to a level worth discussing. As this particular group has several remarkable women who work in that industry, they often provide support and brainstorming for me that I might never experience in other circles. But this night they just heard me, there was no advice, no directive, just love and support. And then, simple words that mean so much..."He's lucky to have you as a mom." I managed not to cry, but I've thought about it a lot the last few days.


It was a moment that was instructional to me. Encouragement doesn't always come in the form of cheer leading. It doesn't always come in the form of assistance. Sometimes it comes in the form of a loving mirror, one that shows you that you are capable of so much.

Where I've been...

Well.

Hi, how are you? Me? I'm struggling still. It took me about a month and a near nervous breakdown to realized that I needed to take the same tact with my own depression issues, that I have with my son's...that medication isn't a sign of weakness, it is simply caring for myself. It was a hard paradigm shift for me, which makes me that much happier that I could make the decision for him at such a young age, rather than leaving it to him to figure out in a hard way like I have. One day my best friend, who also happens to be my sister said "Remember when you told me how you wouldn't hesitate to give him the medication he needed if he was diabetic, so why should this condition be any different? So, tell me why YOU are different?" And you know she's right.

If you haven't guessed, this is my excuse for being lame and not writing. I've had a hard time forcing myself to do much more than is required but I'm taking quite a few nutritional supplements and have a doctor's appointment scheduled. The supplements seem to be helping quite a bit, as long as I remember to take them. I tank out when I forget. But I've had some interesting experiences, so I'm going to spend some time today telling you about them. Sorry for the hit and miss posting. Maybe one day soon I'll get myself on a nice schedule. :)

Looking forward to:

Just thought I'd post a quick list. Looking forward is obviously an active dare, so I'll have to keep you posted. (smiles all around)

1. Seeing my boys tonight. I always miss them while they are at their dad's.
2. I just signed up to facilitate a small group at my church. Small Group Ministry is one of the coolest things in which I've ever participated, but I've been out of it for two years. Finding a group whose meeting times coincide with my parenting schedule has been challenging. I figured the only way to do it was to facilitate a group on MY schedule.
3. I'm going to start planning a vacation for fall break with my boys. October is just around the corner.

I dare you to look forward.

I think we are all on the quest for one thing, the same thing. There are many paths there and many paths that look promising, and how each of us get there, or not, is entirely up to us. Of course I'm talking about happiness. Our constitution in this country promises the right to pursue it, but that is as close as anyone will ever get to handing it to us. The rest, my friends, is up to us.

I've been watching a movie made in the 90'a that features two of my favorite actors, Robert Duvall and James Earl Jones, A Family Thing. They give fantastic performances in a story steeped in old bitter race frustrations and how they played out in one family. The writing is wonderful and it is worth seeing, if you haven't lo these many years later. But one line stuck with me today, and I'm sad that it hasn't stuck in my head like so many other things. Earl tells his nephew a simple story of a simple man who had a hard life and lived for doing something sweet for his family. And when asked about his hard luck he finally told Earl, "Being happy ain't nothin' but havin' something to look forward to." Earl goes on to tell his nephew that looking back at what he's lost will only cause him pain, and that he needs to find something, anything no matter how simple to look forward to, and continues that he has two little girls to whom he owes something to anticipate in life.

Wow. I can wax philosophic about my history with the best of them, but in the end, it is just history. I do know that when I have something, anything to get ready for everything has more depth and color and and meaning. And who wouldn't want to give that to the people you love?

So this week, I dare you to give yourself something to look forward to. Make it small, make it big, but make it matter. Make a date with an old friend who you love and miss. See a movie that you've been wanting to see for ages. Plan a tea party with your kids. Plan a trip to Greece. Plan a trip to your favorite coffee shop. Plan and anticipate. I dare you.

Harder than I thought...

So did you do it? Did you pick a label or two or a handful to challenge in the last week or so? I had a hard time even facing my labels, and then deciding that I could challenge them. So no one said I was going to be good at this. I just want to keep trying. Well I don't want to be all negative in your face, but what I'm really working on challenging is a phrase that plagues me. Some people who know me might be surprised that this is one that I struggle with, but I have to be honest and say it is the ugliest truth about my self image and the the thing that needs the most challenging.

Hopelessly Disorganized Loser

Sad, isn't it? A three word phrase that encompasses three of the most negative words I can think of. Of course hopeless and loser, well those are pretty self explanatory. Disorganized, sure not perfect, but is that such a sad state of affairs? Well I personally see it as the key to success or failure in life, organizing your thoughts, your affairs, your time and your feelings. And I've just not been terribly successful at managing many of these things. And lets face it, for a person making a living as an accounting professional, it is a downright embarrassing thing to admit that you struggle with it.

But in the last few weeks, I've learned that I am, in fact only those things in my mind. I have taken to reminding myself how successful I have been in navigating the rocky terrain of my life. No, I'm not as skilled as some, but honestly, I wasn't given a lot of these skills as a child, I had to figure them out for myself, which handicapped me. In rethinking how I view myself on this front, it effortlessly flowed into thinking about the fact that a person who has accomplished so much with so little could not possibly be a loser...as a matter of fact quite the opposite was true. But the real key, the one I will have to work on daily, probably for my whole life is in that first little word. Hopeless. On the days I allow myself to be defined by that word, all hope for further success, new accomplishments is stripped from me. On the days that I actively, with love, choose hope, all things are possible. I know that the pragmatist in me holds me back some days. Perhaps another label I need to challenge? Perhaps I need to focus some energy on being a dreamer or an idealist and see where that takes me.

Did you take up arms against some of your negative labels? Did you find some interesting ideas stuck away in your head for safekeeping by the optimist who lives there? Tell me.

What's in a name? Let's find out.

I looked through the dares one at a time. Some of them scare me senseless, which is probably good. Some of them I think I'm not ready for. Some of them I don't think I really need...which probably means I really do need to look at them harder. This is all to say, I didn't know which dare to pick first. And while a favorite or two stuck out at me, I thought it best to let the fickle finger of fate pick where I would start. So www.random.org helped me pick out this very special dare for our very first one. I think it's a good one. Are you ready?

"Dare To Not Label Yourself"

Now I'm not going to share all the wisdom Natasha Kogan gives us in her book. But the basic idea is right out there...we all label ourselves in ways that are limiting, self-depreciating, or simply not helpful. The fact is, we can choose to shed those labels. My challenge for you, and me too, is to pick three labels you've given yourself and challenge them this week. I'll see you soon. MUAH.

Take a ride with me. I dare you.

Back in the summer of spending every moment of time I might actually have to face myself trying to make friends with with anyone who would talk to me on the Internets (as long as they were women who had children and didn't have any interest in setting me up with someone) I happened upon a website one day. I wish I could remember how I got there, but somethings are just supposed to happen. This website is a promotional site for author Natasha Kogan's book The Daring Female's Guide to Ecstatic Living. I adored the concept of this book and I wrote to the author right away with the intent of starting an online "Daring Circle" with my Myspace girlfriends and they were eager too. Natasha sent me a free book, and because I wanted her to get something out of it from me, I encouraged all my friends to buy one, and bought one for my first friend who issued me a really good dare. My friend Cyndi won that challenge and I blissfully sent her one in the mail along with a box of goodies for "BARK bags" for her kids. And we really tried, but school started again and everyone kind of floated off in different directions and our circle bottomed out before we really even got started.

This spring, Cyndi's life met some unexpected changes...changes that would have set most of us on our ears. Cyn's bounce back obviously awed not only me, but everyone who knows her. About two weeks later she was telling me on the phone about lunching with a co-worker who has gone through her own messy divorce and she was revelling in Cyn's bounce-back factor. "How do you do that?" she nearly sobbed on Cyn's shoulder. Cyndi told me she went home and pulled this book off the shelf and re-read the note I'd written to her..."Pay it forward, girlfriend." And so she took it to her friend and told her to get daring.

And in doing so, she did the same for me. I went upstairs that night and started digging through my books. I found it fast and I carried it around for a few weeks before I really even looked at it again. But now I know...it's time to get daring. My life is ready for it.

I'm inviting you down this daring road with me, and if you come I'll feel like I'll finally be paying up my promise to Natasha to start a daring circle. But whether you ride along or just spectate, or maybe a little of both, I promise nothing, except maybe something to laugh about or something to cry about, hopefully something that makes us feel alive.

I'll be sharing some of the dares from Kogan's book (which I think you should buy for yourself...you'll love it). And I'll endeavor to dare myself to do them, and report back to you the results. You can share, or not. Send me email's or comments, or blog them yourself.

Dare #1 coming up shortly. See you there.

It's about time

"Hey Ei, you've been awfully quiet, whatcha been up to?"

I cocked my head and thought about it for a moment. I thought about telling her about how blissfully uneventful my summer had been, how I'd been spending a lot of time reflecting on who I am and what I'm doing with my life, how unhappy I've been with the answers and yet lacking the resolve to change them. I thought about telling her how I'm actually caught up on laundry, but the rest of lives has been slipping away. I considered saying a whole lot more. But the visual of having to call a paramedic to summon her from a coma after bearing my soul to her was pretty painful. So I smiled and shrugged, "Y'know. Kids." Her eyes flicker with recognition. She doesn't have any kids. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Two years ago I found myself wandering familiar terrain, single life, with a whole new set of rules...children, an ex-husband, an aging post childbearing body, and very little curiosity for anything left. At the time a friend told me that the hardest part would be when all the loving kind support I'd received had gone home and tucked in, when the children settled down, and I had to actually look it all in the eye. That took longer than I expected, but that's where I've been. Well, I've been there for awhile. The distractions of life have been plentiful...and my own mad skills at avoidance, well they are pretty amazing.

But more and more lately, I am reminded that I have a long life in front of me, and as much as I love my children, making my life about them would set us all up for frustration...me, them, and certainly their father and the people in his new life. The thing is, my kids are making remarkable progress, growing and stretching in their lives now. They'll always have a hole in their hearts for what they have lost, but now is the time for them both to flex the muscles they've gained from the hard work of recovering. And maybe it is time for me to start too.

Damn it. Didn't want to be sappy. Sorry it is a habit I'll have to work on.

So there is step one of having a weird, quiet, good, moody summer. Admitting you have a problem. Step two is figuring out what to do about it. There isn't a local chapter of "I Got a Divorce and Never Quite Got Around to Getting a Life Anonymous." I don't do bars (thankfully). I don't have all consuming hobbies. I could, I suppose look at all this as a failure. I'm choosing instead to look at it as a blank slate to be filled with beauty and thought. And it's all mine. Let's do this thing.

What Father's Day means to me

My whole association with the rite of Father's day is a little, um, skewed I suppose. As a child, I purposefully became "ill" so as not to have to attend day camp on the day they made Father's day gifts, I "forgot" announcements about father daughter teas, terrified that my mom would decide she should stand in, or worse yet, that she would send my grandfather. In my married days, I tried to really do something MANLY for my then husband on Father's day...neglecting the fact that I really know nothing about what constitutes acceptably manly versus stereotypically manly and I'm a poor organizer anyway. But hey I tried, and it is the thought that counts, right? Well, mainly it's the thought...for most people, anyway.

Since becoming a single mom, I've been back to rather wanting to hide away from father's day activities. But today I volunteered to help out with children's programming at church. We sat in a circle on the floor and we "lit" our chalice (a lovely little battery operated tea light) and as ever, our children let us glimpse their lives by telling us their joys and concerns. There was the usual assortments of birthdays being celebrated, grandparents coming to visit, doggies who were lost and found, and this week some stories of bailing out the basement. We came to the serious little blond girl sitting in the sitting in the corner. She frowned as she thought about what she wanted to say, "It's Father's Day," she sniffled, "but my daddy is in Iraq so he doesn't get to have a Father's Day." Her daddy, is in fact one of the nicest men I've ever met and it hurt my heart to see his little girl so obviously missing him. How different it made me feel. It made me remember that Father's Day, and Mother's Day too, is really more about the children.

It was brought to my attention some time ago that Mother's Day as it was introduced by Julia Ward Howe in 1870, had little to do with moms sleeping in or getting jewelery, or having a spa day. It had nothing to do with moms being appreciated at all...it was instead a call to action, a call to mothers to use their maternal voices for peace.

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.

Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

It has occurred to me that Father's Day was really just created as a "Me too" holiday, someone thought that what was good for the goose was good for the gander...and so it all is really just an extension of my UU fore mother's call for peace. The only thing any good mother can do in honor of Father's Day is to be a good mother. Continue to fight for the good of our children, which always includes their fathers...the ones who wake up and honor you on Mother's Day and the ones who don't, the ones who build go-carts, and the ones who build character. Father's day is about making sure that kids have dads to go round with, not about ties or barbecue grills. And also about the sacrifices we all make to make sure that can happen. Father's day isn't about gifting a father with a manly day, it is about gifting a child with a father, for every day. Thank goodness for Father's Day.

Can you feel it?

Oh yeah...Loving Day. I just love that story. I mean could they have had a better name? Sigh. Well yeah, I know, I'm not the worlds biggest proponent of ANY marriage, but I think it is a personal choice you should be allowed to make (oh STOP it, I'm joking...mostly). But I wanted to take a moment first to say, I tried yesterday to post a few THOUGHTS about Loving Day but Blogger ate my post, so I ended up quickly just posting the nice little blurb my friend Becky gave me. Not even with the way cool picture of Mr. & Mrs. Loving.

The reason I had no time is...well...if you haven't heard, we've had a little rain here in Central Iowa. I was out filling sand bags with my coworkers for fun, just in case we had a repeat of what happened in 1993. Luckily, so far, that has been just busy work. And hey, I have something new to add to my resume (although I don't think my impatient boss will be giving me any recommendations based on my skills in this area.) Anyway, I just wanted to take a minute to remind you that the battle that Mildred and Richard Loving fought in 1967, the year before my birth, made lots of happy couples whom I adore possible today (not to mention, assisted in making possible two little people whom I love desperately). I also wanted to remind you that there are many of our fellow citizens out there who are desperate to marry someone (don't ask me why!) and it is not legal for them to do so. Don't let the battle end with the Lovings.

So that's my soap-box portion of the evening. I would like to tell you that my day was all kinds of Love Thursday magic, but that wasn't in the cards for me, so instead I'll leave you with Elton John...because I've had this song stuck in my head for days.

Tomorrow is Loving Day

What is Loving Day?Loving Day is an educational community project. The name comes from Loving v. Virginia (1967), the landmark Supreme Court decision that legalized interracial marriage in the United States. Loving Day celebrations commemorate the anniversary of the Loving decision every year on or around June 12th.Learn more about the landmark case and Loving Day here.