Devilish Details

Life has been too much to handle lately. Too intense to even blog about it because then I'd have to reflect on the craziness even more. But here's a bit of an update:

Pregnant teen gave birth. She went into labor at 3 a.m. at my house a few weeks ago. After all was said and done, she decided to "keep the baby for a while and give it a try," the worst decision of her life until this point. Some will disagree, saying if you ever have any doubt you should keep your baby. Well, I've been on the inside track of this gal's life for the last decade. Her family does not love her. Sporadic affection, maybe. But love? No.

Case in point: twelve hours before she went into labor, her sister kicked her out of the house with all her stuff in bags and left her standing in the rain. That's why she was at my house when the contractions started.

There's so much to the story--too much to put here. What amazed me was all of the family that came out of the woodwork during the delivery. Where have they been for the last 9 months? Baby daddy showed up too. It was very dramatic. Sources tell me the night after the birth, teen and BD were spooned up in the bed. I guess he'll be spooning the other gal he also inpregnated here in a month or so.

I never really believed she would give her baby up for adoption. Girls like her don't do that very often because deep down they hope maybe their baby will provide the love they've been denied their entire life. For a few hours, teen finally had the attention of her family. I'm sure in a few weeks the newness will wear off and she'll be left standing out in the rain, this time with a baby on her hip, no money, no job, no prospects. And yes, she'll suffer. But this baby boy will suffer the most. I grieve the life he could've had with a family who would've loved him.

Where was God in all this? I don't know. Lots of optimistic folks spew feel-good clichés, but having been in the trenches on this one, I'm calling BS. God was the sweet Mennonite family ready to take that baby home. The devil was in the details. Generational details like drug abuse, selfishness, irresponsibilty, bad parenting and a lack of love. God may win in the end, but the evil one sure takes his share on Earth.

An Exercise in Futility

I once wrote a paper with the above title-- and it was the final for my bassoon class. Life's gotten more complicated since college.

We moved here nine years ago. I was 23, naive and good-hearted. I thought it might be nice to volunteer. And so I became a "mentor" with the public school system. During my time as a mentor, I became acquainted with three young girls. With two of them I am still in touch -- one, our relationship only lasted for a year or two but oddly enough, I ran into her last week at the grocery store. She had a job there. We spoke pleasantries to one another and that was that.

The two with whom I am still in contact both dropped out of high school, one has had a baby and the other is currently pregnant. The currently pregnant teen comes from, at best, a tulmultuous (dare I say crazy?) and non-supportive family situation.

This week, I've been helping her navigate the system so that she can get in to see a doctor. DHS smells like hopelessness and despair.

I don't know if I really have a point here, except the effort feels useless. And I'm not saying I regret it or that I want to ditch the relationships. I guess what I am saying is that I see how critical good parenting really is. I've spent countless hours and dollars on these girls, and the net result was still the same because they went home every night to a situation of drugs or abuse or ambivalence.

Thus the cycle continues, unless this generation decides to give her baby a better life through adoption. I'm scared to even be optimistic for fear of jinxing the whole thing.

Robbing the Cradle

I've have some very lovely single girlfriends in their 30's. Smart, beautiful, educated, Christian women who have much to offer their male counterparts. But guess who these young women are now competing with out in the dating circuit? The female toddlers they used to babysit when they were teenagers. It seems horribly unfair, and even though I am happily married and not "out there," it makes me sad for my sweet friends searching for love.

Hormonally-Challenged

Gosh, I read my last post and almost jumped out the window. You'll be happy to know that the doctor prescribed me an extra dose of estrogen and that half-pill every night turned my outlook on life around in 48 hours. I think what's amazed me most over this course of treatment is how much I'm really controlled by hormones.

Men think we're nuts and just using hormones as an excuse to be cranky. But I'm here to tell you, and I think my husband would agree, when I was estrogen-deficient, my whole persona changed. I was a different person. Weepy, depressive, angry, impatient, exhausted, ravenously hungry, etc. I'm sure I was hell to live with.

I was talking to a friend of mine who went through Lupron treatment, too, although hers was to get her ready for invitro. She told me she had to have her head checked every week and that she thought she was losing her mind. Glad to know I'm not alone. She couldn't have estrogen due to the upcoming invitro, so I am really glad that a little pill can help me "normalize."

For an update, I did lose 2.8 pounds my first week on WW. Last week, I lost another 0.8 pounds. It's slow going but I am feeling optimistic. Frankly, just feeling optimistic is nice for a change. My pants are fitting a tiny bit looser, so I'm putting my muffin-top on notice.

Missing the Points

I started Weight Watchers this week. I'm on my seventh day and it's been an emotional rollercoaster. How much of that has to do with hormones I'm not sure, but I think that's definitely a factor.

I've never been a girl with a weight fixation or issue. I've been very lucky/blessed in that regard. When I was younger, I could eat anything I wanted and it would disappear. Put it this way-- the doctor tested me for a tapeworm when I was 7.

Of course, as I've gotten older the ol' metabolism's slowed down a bit, but all and all I've stayed within 10 lbs of where I've always been in an adult body. Until 2009. The medication I've been on since November 2008 has wreaked havoc with my mind, emotions and now my booty. Since January, I've put on 15-18 pounds. Which is a lot on a frame like mine. And please, save me the affirming "you still look good" comments because you haven't seen me naked, none of my pants fit, and my lower half looks like it's been slapped with a sack of nickels. And, I just keep thinking if it only took me three or four months to put on that initial weight, I could flippin' double my fun by, say-- AUGUST! And then I would definitely need to get that tapeworm off the internet.

So, I went to Weight Watchers last Tuesday, wrote down a number in the little book that made me cringe, and sat thru the meeting (next to a good friend, thank God). That was hard. Not because the meeting or the people, the just "being there." I got there early to sign up and weigh-in. During the process, I made jokes and kept it light to try and make myself feel better, but I was DYING inside. I was just trying to keep it together and not cry. Sidenote: I hate crying in front of people. They always want to comfort you which usually ends up in an awkward (for me) embrace.

I also decided that this was as good a time as any to start a work-out program-- because, you know, why take things one step at a time? The first walk/run, I was crying on the track. Like I said, I am an emotional wreck.

As the week passed, it's gotten easier. I only had one Coke, and sadly, it wasn't as good as I'd been fantasizing it would be. However, it was a can and not from Sonic which is my drug of choice. I did my third "walk/run" in the couch to 5K program I started, so now my next run will be "week two." I haven't cheated on the points thing. I have like 29 flex points left, so I think I really stuck to the program this first week. But I have a nagging feeling.

If I go and weigh in tomorrow, and I've gained weight or stayed the same, I honestly don't know what I'll do. Outside, I'm sure I'll make a joke and keep my chin up, but inside, I'll be a puddle on the floor.

The Old Ball & Chain

My 10 year wedding anniversary was yesterday. 10 years. That's a long time to be married these days. Mike and I celebrated by spending time together and a little bling that shall be forthcoming. I am still working on his gift, about which I won't go into detail since he reads my blog and I don't want to ruin the surprise.

During our time together hanging out yesterday we were discussing marriage, what works, what doesn't, etc. I got to thinking that, frankly, we are blessed. Mike and I LIKE each other. We're friends. I didn't really know him all that long before we wed. We'd only lived in the same town for eight weeks. He could have turned out to be a real jerk and I wouldn't have known until it was too late. He might tell you that he found out I was a real jerk and it was too late! But either way, we've always enjoyed each other's company and wacky senses of humor.

Tonight we are going to a wedding. That's always fun-- watching the excited couple full of hopes and dreams. I always pray that when the real world slaps them upside the head--and it will-- that the person they've chosen will not be the one inflicting the damage, but treating the wounds. I've seen the opposite happen so many times and it's heart breaking.

I am blessed that whenever life has gotten ugly, my spouse has never been the enemy and I think that is what makes a good marriage.

Dear Diary

My husband was gone for several days last week due to a work obligation so I got to be all lonely around the house. When he is gone, I tend to stay up really late as though I am waiting for him to get home. It's completely ridiculous but it's what I do.

Up late a few nights ago, I was searching through a box of books looking for something to read when I came across two journals. They were written by Mike when he was 21 years old-- a good seven years before we met. The journals chronicled his tour across the U.S. with a couple of guys from college.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. "Journals are private and you're not supposed to read other peoples diaries." Whatever. You know you would totally read it! Frankly, if I found your diary, and no one was looking, I am 100% sure I would read it.

Well, it was the best read I've had in awhile. And the most difficult. The man's handwriting is nearly indecipherable, but I managed. What was so cool was that I was hearing the voice of this total stranger/manboy whom I've never met, but resembles the guy I married.

It's not often I see another side of the "Mike" I've known for more than a decade --the insecurity about girls he liked, waxing poetic about literature and life, and his hopes and dreams for the future. It was nice to realize he achieved many of the goals he wrote about as a young man. Sometimes I wonder if the people I love are living the life they hoped for or just putting on a good face.

Reading his coming-of-age story made me love the man he became even more. I'd say the invasion of privacy was totally worth it.

Great Expectations

I think I'm either becoming a negative person or am becoming aware that I've always been a negative person. I don't know if others do this, but in certain instances, I expect to be disappointed. And I am usually right. But I don't know if this is because I am just correct about what is going to happen, or if my expectations are too high. 

Looking back, I know this has been true for a long time. I remember a time YEARS ago when I agonized over what to get a loved one for a special day. When I finally found the perfect gift, it cost way more than I could afford on a student salary. That was the first time I opened a credit account. The gift I got in return was of more, say, "practical" use, and I remember putting on a smile and squashing down the disappointment. In this gift's defense, I am still using that item to this day. But I just remember thinking about how I had put all this thought and time into the gift I purchased for him out of love, and it felt like he went about it in the "I have to get a gift, what should I get??? Oh, here's something she could use. That'll do."  

The payments on that gift lasted longer than the relationship, but I wasn't ever bitter about that. If you know me, then you know how much I enjoy giving gifts. It's my love language.

Last summer, my friend Beth gave me these awesome weenie dog knife holder thingies. You know, you put them on your dinner table and you lean your knife against it so it won't rest directly on the table. Her step-grandmother had given them to her, and she thought "what am I going to do with these," and then thought, "Holly would LOVE THEM!" And she was right. I love all things weenie dog, and if I can entertain with it, then all the better. I was even more ecstatic because she gave me something she knew I would love because she loves me.

How is it that my girlfriends always get it right?

Thoughts on Parenting, Part Two

People are really into their kids. I can't tell you how many times I've been talking to a parent and they say something along the lines of how they want to let their kids try every sport, pursue music, art, etc. because they want to find out where their offspring is truly talented. One person a few years ago even went so far as to use the word "genius," as in, they wanted to find out in what area their child was a "genius."

Ummm, guess what? Your kid isn't a genius. He (or she) might excel in some areas or have superior talent in some area compared to other kids, but I'm looking at your kid with two knuckles up his nose, and I promise you, he's no Einstein. Of course, this is the conversation I'm having in my head. As an occasionally polite person, I just nodded and smiled.

I watch mothers and fathers running from soccer practice to football practice to ballet to violin to choir to whatever. And they are exhausted. Their kids are exhausted. And I can't help but think it's an exercise in futility. Just let them go outside and PLAY. An activity or two is fine but if you are gone several nights a week and trying to cram in homework, family life, church, etc. I think you've missed the point.

I'm not against extra-curricular activities. I think they are great. I exhibited a moderate bit of talent musically as a child and as a result I am a sometimes-proficient flutist today, thanks to 20 years of practice. But I am by no means a genius. And thank God that wasn't what my parents were interested in when they decided to let me try out for band in 6th grade because I bet that would have been a lot of pressure.

And since when is it not okay to have an average child? I'll be pleased if Annie does alright in school, has friends, is happy, compassionate and well-adjusted. If it turns out she can play a mean piano or kick a ball farther than normal, well, that's cool too. But I have a feeling that kind of "genius" finds you, not the other way around.

I propose there are other areas of talent (or genius) we, as a society, don't recognize in children because they don't involve balls, uniforms, A-440, or tap shoes. How about the ability to make someone feel welcome? Peacemaking, problem-solving, compassion, honesty, loyalty, etc.

I've added a new line to my usual Annie prayer. It comes from Micah 6:8. I pray that she will act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with her God. Even it it turns out she's "below-average," but gets that right, then my dreams for her will have been fulfilled.

Lucky for her, she also just happens to be a genius.

Whatcha gonna do with all that junk--all that junk inside your trunk?

I had my fourth injection today as part of my treatment for an issue I blogged about back in October or November. With these injections come a host of side effects--I've blogged about those before too. 

Well, it's official. Weight gain is now part of the mix. Since January, I've gained ten pounds. All of it is in my belly or booty. Here's what I know for sure: 10 pounds makes one heck of a muffin top.

I've got two more injections after today so I'm exactly half-way thru this process and I am absolutely terrified I'll gain another 10 pounds. I'm already at my all-time high and I can't fit into anything. My emotions/hormones are out of whack anyway and this just makes it worse. I am ravenously hungry all the time, for sweets (read: chocolate) mostly. The nurse told me today that this is typical and she sees it a lot with patients on this medicine. I'm trying to remain positive, that this will pass and drop off after the medication is finished. But what if it doesn't? 

I guess I'll have to order a tape worm off the internet.

White Hood Follow-up

Check out this news story that happened just days after I posted my last blog. You'll have to copy and paste the link into your browser:

www.tampabay.com/news/politics/local/article973513.ece

WOW. Same email forward, same "sorry I offended you" business, but with an actual consequence. 

Can You Forward Me That White Hood, Please?

I don't even know how to begin this entry. So I'll just start. A racist email was forwarded to me. It was a question, a simple one-liner--"How can 2 Million (insert color of skin here)..." Not only was it racist, it was especially callous in that also made light of the Hurricane Katrina tragedy. The individual who sent it to me forwarded it to a ton of other people as well, many of whom I know, a few I know of, and some I don't know at all.  I was MORTIFIED.

First, I was shocked that this person would think I was the type who enjoyed a racist joke. Then I was more shocked when I realized how many people would see my name in the "TO" list, thereby making the assumption that I, too, approved of this type of "humor." And, moreover, there were people on the list of  whom I immediately thought, "do they enjoy racist jokes and I just didn't know it?" The whole thing, to be honest, enraged me. And I felt the need to speak up. My husband, ever prudent, told me to sleep on it. So, after my blood pressure went back down, I took a nap.

And then I hit "reply to all." I worked on the draft for 30-45 minutes before I finally sent it out. I tried to make my point as delicately as possible, focusing on how I felt and not using the term "racist," as I am sure no one likes to be called that. Well, here. Just read what I wrote for yourself:

Dear Friends,

I don't know all of you but I wanted to reply to all because if we ever meet, I want you to know the following about me:

The so-called "Big Question" we were emailed below made me sick to my stomach. Some think it is okay to say things like that because it's a "joke," but comparing the situation of low-income people suffering through a horrendous natural disaster with the historic inauguration of an African-American President shows not only a bad sense of humor but a bad sense of humanity.

I'm sure this was sent in innocent fun, but when I read it, I felt like I was being made an unwilling party to a dialogue of which I want no part. I've taken a few hours to cool off since I first read the email, so this is not a knee-jerk response. However, even after cooling off, I still felt it important that you know that just because you see my name in the "TO" box, doesn't mean I think the below is funny or appropriate.

I'm sorry if my response has made anyone uncomfortable, but I decided some things should not be left unsaid.

Sincerely,

Me

This was one of the more scary things I've ever sent out in my life. Not because I don't believe what I said, but because I was really putting myself out there. As soon as I hit send, I started thinking maybe I had made a mistake, made an enemy, etc. God bless my husband. For those of you who know him, he is extremely wise about when to speak out and when to keep quiet. As prudent as he is, he encouraged me to say what I thought and then after I hit send, reassured me that what I had done was "okay." I guess I care what people think of me after all.

A couple of hours later I got an apology (replied to all)- the ol' "I'm sorry I offended you." The sender then went on to say that he/she enjoyed (hold onto your skirts for this one) both "pro-republican and pro-democratic jokes alike" and he/she thought I, too, liked jokes from "all views." 

HOLY CATFISH! A political joke?? I don't know who the sender thought he/she was kidding, but none of the people I know on that email list are stupid enough to think a joke is "political" when it's subject is clearly a group of people who share similar skin pigment.

Secondly, "I'm sorry I offended you?" How about "I'm sorry I sent out something offensive. It was wrong." I guess I was in the wrong because I don't have a sense of humor. Who knew?

Well, I'm getting all worked up again. After I got the apology for offending my political senses, I just decided to reply with an "Of course I accept your apology," and to everyone else that I was not angry with the sender. Which is mostly true. I'm not mad so much as upset that I even had to go there. 

But, I'd rather feel a little anxious about what people might think of me than feel shame when I look my non-white child in the eye. After all, today it's a black joke, tomorrow it's a red joke. 

Every day I tell Annie how smart and beautiful and wonderful she is--and I speak in truth. Events like the one I described above scare me to death, because I fear no matter how much I love her and praise her and teach her that she is wonderful just as she was created, it won't matter. In a few years Annie will no doubt discover people all around who will never judge her on the content of her character. I just hope we can raise her to be strong enough to reject the noise of hate.

The Inauguration

I haven’t blogged in awhile, mostly because it’s been really busy, but I’ve also got to be in the mood to write—inspired if you will.

Well, the biggest thing that’s happened in my life since I wrote last is that Mike and I went to the Inauguration. It was really incredible, and incredibly cold. I shall relay the details of the day:

We got up and left our hotel at 6:00 a.m. bundled up with handwarmers, long underwear, hats, coats, gloves, etc. It’s amazing that a chill got thru all that gear, but let me tell you—it did! We walked to the “Blue Gate” with thousands of people. The route we took from our hotel took us thru an underground tunnel (usually used for cars, but obviously blocked off that day) and it was PACKED! The atmosphere was very cool. Folks were chanting and really excited to be there.

We got to our destination at 6:45 a.m. and proceeded to move maybe 40-50 yards over a 4-hour period. I’ve never stood in a sea of people like that. For those of you who know me pretty well, you know how I don’t really like to be touched—I prefer at least an 18” diameter around me at all times. Well, this was up close and personal! Good news is I didn’t have a panic attack, not even as we were rounding the corner to go thru security and everyone was really pressing hard into each other. It was one of those moments that if someone fell, they would literally be trampled to death.

Obviously we made it through security and proceeded to take in history with 2 million of our closest friends. What was truly amazing about the day was just the “vibe.” Even though we were packed like sardines with strangers, not one person was ever rude. I heard later that not a single person was arrested that day. Spontaneous singing would erupt every few minutes and we’d all get excited when we moved two feet! 

Although the day was hard, it was the experience of a lifetime and I am proud to say “I was there.”

Thoughts on Parenting, Part 1

I'm taking a great parenting class at church right now and it's being taught by two wonderful people. The first week we talked about having a plan/goals in raising our kids. At first, I thought maybe I didn't have a concrete plan, but as I've been thinking about it, I do. And the goals I have were ones I had thought about long before I even became a mother. Here are a couple of them:

1) When Annie she enters a room, other people are happy she's there.
2) When Annie encounters someone struggling or different than her, she feels empathy.

Obviously, this is not all-inclusive. But #1 is huge; it's the basis of most of my discipline. This is why I teach her that we say please and thank you, when someone prepares you a meal you eat it whether you like it or not, you treat others nicely, share, don't lie, steal, etc. Oh, and my favorite, "you don't talk to mommy and daddy (or insert whomever here) with an ugly mouth."

#2 is pretty big, too. Most of the jerks I know don't have the ability to understand other people's pain or feelings. Obviously, I don't want Annie to grow up to be a jerk.

When we pray with Annie, one of the little lines we often say with her is, "may Annie learn to the love the Lord with all her heart, soul, mind and strength and love her neighbor as herself. And may she grow in widsom, and stature and in favor with God and man, just like Jesus."

Hopefully, that prayer along with discipline and love will help Annie grow into a graceful young woman--despite all the mistakes I am surely making every day.

New Year Already?

Could another year have passed by? 2008 went by so quickly I can't even believe it.

2008 was not a great year, but not a bad year. Pretty blah although alot changed. Looking back, I think it's been pretty stressful which makes sense in that we moved into a house with many repair needs, I've unnecessarily worried about too many things and over-extended myself a few too many times. I'm hoping I'll do a little better with these issues in 2009.