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Sunday, August 31, 2008

My Mother's Hands

When I was a child my mother's hands were very busy. They spent many hours cooking meals and scrubbing dishes. I would stand on a chair next to my mom and take the soapy plates from her hands and dip them in the clear water before stacking them beside the sink.
My mother's hands were always busy wiping away tears and applying bandages to scraped knees. I can vividly recall sitting on a chair with my arm extended as my mother's hands gently spread antibiotic cream over a fresh cut on my finger. I examined the differences between my dimpled smooth hand to her older more mature hand as she placed the band aid on my cut.
Her hand is what I would grab hold of when I didn't want to get lost, feared the dark, needed support, or wanted a friend.

As I aged, so did my mother's hands. Not needing to be used as a guide anymore, they began turn pages of books again, knit, crochet and garden. I distanced myself from her hands as I grew and as a result, they began to age and wrinkle.

Time passed and before long my mom was again using her hands to cradle babies. Grandchildren would busy the hands of a woman who craved the ability to nurture. Once again, small hands were looking for guidance, a light in the dark, support and a friend. She was able to provide all of that and more as her hands got busy knitting sweaters and turning the pages of picture books for the next generation.

The grandchildren began to grow as well and my mother's hands continued to age. Small spots began to form on the top and the skin started to darken around the nails but still they remained busy wiping tears and applying bandages.

More time would pass and my mom would become very ill in a short amount of time. Suddenly, those same hands would wipe away her own tears and search for another looking for comfort and reassurance. I held her hand, now older and smaller. The skin seemed more loose and it didn't seem as strong as it did when I was a child.

No time would pass and I would find myself holding my mother's hand for the last time. A hand that wouldn't hold back as I squeezed tightly and said goodbye. Hands that would no longer offer guidance as my tears showered them. Hands that I would never see again.

Time passed and I took my children to the park. We walked through the grass as my youngest daughter ran up to me and grabbed my hand. She held up our hands together and said, "Look how much bigger your hand is than mine!"
I glanced down and saw my mother's hand.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Marriage Advice from a Divorced Woman

Most people don't want to listen to parenting advice from those that have never raised a child and I suspect the same to be true of taking advice from divorced people. But those of us who have survived the amputation of our pride, dignity and self esteem caused from the divorce are a different breed then the know-it-all non-parent parenting advisors we've all come to question.

I spent ten years in a marriage that began far too soon but it wasn't all bad otherwise I wouldn't have stayed for even one year. I don't know about you but I feel like I should get the privelege of distributing one strong tip per year of marriage. Don't you think it's an earned privelege that may help current young couples or at least bring a smile to their face as they look at each other and say, "That will never happen to us!"

1. Never pass gas in front of your spouse. Now unfortunately this only applies to women because for men it's perfectly acceptable after the second date. Honestly, it can seem very unlady-like and it's definitely a turn off for the man. Now on the flip side of that you can always feel free to use their disgust to your advantage. Are there times that you're just not "in the mood"? Usually it's when you're cooking dinner, reading in bed or trying to fold clothes. These are the times that popping off a little gas bomb could help you without encountering an argument. Men will quickly scramble away in search of a sports channel or power tool to avoid you witnessing their disgust. Result: You get to continue reading your book, cooking dinner or folding clothes.

2. Don't get too comfortable with each other. Again, this applies more to the women. If you begin showing signs of being "too comfortable" around your man you will soon find yourself involved in interesting situations. When a man knows that he can burp, fart, blow snot straight from his nose to the ground and make noises while sitting on the toilet all in your presence then physical aid and advice is not far behind. A man that feels completely comfortable with you will have no problem peeling off his sock in front of you, tossing his shriveled smelly foot in the air and asking you to look at the sore on the bottom of his third toe. A comfortable man will not hesitate to ask you to squeeze the infected hair on his back and administer alcohol and antibiotic cream to the area. A man at ease with his mate will not think twice about asking you to investigate the contents of the toilet bowl after making a deposit to see if you think the contents are "normal". Now I have to admit after you have kids this is much easier to endure.

3. Never pretend that single friends are okay to go out with alone. Single friends are your enemy. Single friends are out at night looking for single women or men and if your mate is out with him/her then who do you think they're mingling with? Single friends are like a horrible religious cult. Once they are out of your presence they will preach relentlessly to your mate about the joys of freedom and the single life. They will visit your house, eat your food, and laugh at your jokes but make no mistake...they are the enemy.

4. In-laws should be called Out-laws. These people will turn on you in a second! In-laws will always take the side of their child. Now they may act differently when you're around and there's an argument taking place but in private quarters, they are siding with their son or daughter. I also feel compelled to tell you that once the grandchildren are born, you're both out. Husband and wife are invisible and the grandchildren become the new focus. Once in-laws become grandparents, you're marital problems are abandoned which could be a good thing or a bad thing depending on your situation.

5. Don't try to break old habits developed in childhood. Men are especially impossible and guilty of the inability to change old habits. This is mostly due to their mothers. Tossing their clothes on the bedroom floor and dumping food in the sink is among a few of the childhood habits you will have to deal with. I really don't have any advice here because nothing will work so my advice is to just accept and deal with some of these disorders instilled by the mothers of these men and move on to bigger issues. I tried everything. After years of asking, begging, pleading and fussing about food being dumped in the sink, I finally snapped. We didn't have a garbage disposal so I had to manually scoop this slimy, soggy wet food out of the sink by hand. One afternoon we had beef stew for dinner. I cooked, we ate, and all the dishes went into the sink. I bathed the kids, read the bedtime stories and relaxed for a while as my husband ventured off to bed. I returned to the kitchen to begin the dishes but the water wouldn't drain because there were large carrots and potatoes lodged in the drain. I always emptied the kids and my bowls so I knew it could only be from one bowl. HIS bowl. I calmly reached into the drawer and pulled out a large soup spoon. I used the soup spoon to scoop out a large portion of the soggy food and slowly walked into the bedroom where my sleeping husband lay. I gently dropped the large spoon full of food into his left work boot and returned to the kitchen to finish the dishes. I wouldn't hear another word until 6am the following morning as I listened to my husband yell out in anger after shoving his foot into a beef stew filled boot. Result: He still dumped food in the sink although it was a while later.

6. Don't leave with food during an argument. Since we're on the subject of food I have to express the importance of food to a man. One of the biggest arguments I had with my ex-husband was just before dinner time. He stomped off to the bathroom to take his bath because he had worked in construction all day. We continued to argue from separate rooms and when I walked into the kitchen to begin making hamburgers I quickly decided I wasn't going to cook for him. I made the decision to scoop up the thawed hamburger meat, potatoes and other vegetables and make my way to my mother's house to cook there for me and the babies. Unfortunately I announced my plans throughout the house and this didn't sit well with the ogre in the tub. Shampoo and conditioner bottles whizzed past me as I walked out the door and the crazed shoutings of a hungry construction worker echoed through the neighborhood.

7. Never force a personal activity on the other. Sometimes it's just better to go alone. Honestly, you're going to have a better time by yourself if your partner didn't want to go in the first place. There's nothing more unpleasant than being at a function with someone that is miserable. Just leave them at home. If they don't like parades and they've told you they don't like parades then don't drag them to a parade. You won't have fun, I promise. Find a friend or family member that enjoys that particular activity and leave your spouse at home. Give him/her a chore. Maybe they can do dishes or mow the lawn while you're gone.

8. Don't befriend your spouses ex. The ex-wife or husband of your spouse is not your friend. They're divorced for a reason and like it or not, there are sore feelings on one or both sides. You can definitely be civil and gracious but don't start inviting the ex to parties and events. I totally believe that it is better to get along but that doesn't mean you have to start going to the movies with the ex.
The ex-spouse is not a whole lot different than the out-laws except they don't warm up when another child is born. This is only viewed as a threat to them. If you're lucky you'll meet a mate that has an ex that isn't crazy and all will be well but for those of us that aren't so lucky, we'll be cursed with a crazy psychotic that's out for blood. Be cautious and be alert and you'll survive the ex.

9. Make a list of things that annoy you and a list of things you adore. Both parties can have fun at this. After years of marriage you're probably pretty clear on what bugs the crap out of you the most. Share that with your mate. I actually never had the opportunity to do this activity but wish I had. My list would have included things like:
I can't stand the way you scratch yourself at night.
I don't like that pair of jeans you wear all the time.
I hate the way you pronounce battery.
I love the way glance at me from across the room.
I appreciate your determination to get that broken motorcycle to work.
I admire your passion for animals.

10. Make love in anger. The best way to get rid of all that anger is to use that energy and stress as a release. The whole "never go to bed angry" actually does make sense. There's a lot of adreniline that comes from your arguments. Use that adreneline and apply it to the bedroom. The real issue can be readdressed the next day when both people have a more clear head.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Lisa's Online Blog: Support


Lisa's Online Blog: Support

Support

Support.
It's a small word with a lot of meanings.
Support can be used in sentences to describe or explain physical endurance, mental or emotional encouragement, financial assistance or confirmation and endorsement of another.
Support usually comes with high expectations and some find themselves detesting the word. Support becomes a four letter word that should be cast out like demons.

Now I don't usually get on my soap box over this word but sometimes my feet are rebellious as they step up on that platform despite my objections.
My support issues stem more from the financial and encouragement definitions. It's called Child Support and those who owe it shudder when they hear the term while those that are owed swell with anger upon hearing those words.
I'm the latter of the two groups and although I don't swell with anger, I often find myself confused and dumbfounded over the lack of support. I have questions that I'm sure will remain unanswered until the end of time. Questions such as:

How do you spend days, months or sometimes even years without knowing what your child is doing? What fills your day so much that you are unable to pick up a phone or write a letter to find out how your child's day went, what they're interested in or how they're progressing in school?
As a parent, how can you become angry and resentful over the idea of having to give money to your child? I have not yet been able to make any sense out of this question. My kids suck money out of me on a daily basis. I sometimes feel like a mother dog trying to nurse a litter of 12. My boobs hurt and I'm tired of being the only one around who can provide the essential nutrients but guess what? I don't get up and walk away or refuse to feed their emotional and physical needs. I stay and endure the sometimes overwhelming responsibility of parenthood. If you spend a little time with them, they're actually kind of funny and that humor can make up for the constant mooching they do. My kids really do make me laugh and I never find myself regretting any of my decisions or resenting any of the responsibility. My only regret is that their dad may never know the rewards of true parenting and to me that is a remorseful absence.
It's really not that bad. Providing and supporting other human beings on a daily basis can be the most rewarding task you'll ever complete in life. It isn't a burden, it's a blessing and it is such a shame that parents who have "moved on" will never discover this gift.
Child support - To support and nurture your offspring as necessary to provide them with the physical, emotional and financial security needed and to do so with the best of your ability.

Monday, August 25, 2008

10 Things I Love About You

1. I love the way your hair falls softly across your face as you gently kneel down to scoop up a tiny butterfly.
2. I love the surprise in your eyes when thunder rumbles through the clouds and your head tilts toward the sky.
3. I love the small little patterns in each of your fingers as they wrap around my hand.
4. I love the joy you display and the laughter you express as your tiny little feet sink deeply in the sand.
5. I love your musical curiosity as you hunt through the brush searching for the source of the nightly cricket song.
6. I love the way you run to my hip with a scrape on your knee and a tear in your eye yet still seem more than strong.
7. I love the sound of your delicate heart beat.
8. And your kisses are sugary sweet.
9. But most of all I love the way you wrap your arms around my neck until I turn blue
10. And whisper softly in my ear "I love you."

Mental Temperature

I sometimes find myself questioning my purpose and the path that I am on at the moment. I think we all find ourselves questioning the decisions and choices we make in life. Free will is often a scary privilege and one I think I often get wrong.
Sometimes I think if it weren’t for wrong choices, I’d have no choices at all but I think most of us don’t give our decisions enough time before changing them.
We all struggle with this when it comes to our children but for the last few years, I’ve found myself having more conflict over the decisions I make concerning my father. He’s been a tough one to please since my mother passed away three years ago. Making your parents happy will always be ten times as hard as making your kids happy.
When you find yourself in a position of authority over your parents, you really just have to find the humor in everyday challenges. My weekend went something like this:

On Thursday, my dad’s refrigerator stopped cooling properly. Trying to keep the situation under control as these types of issues can quickly turn him into a panic stricken mess, I calmly suggested that he meet me at the store during my lunch hour on the following day and we would simply pick out a new one. Twenty minutes and thirty complaints later we ended the conversation with an understanding of time and place to meet the next day. Between Thursday night and lunch time on Friday, I received many more calls from my dad explaining and complaining about every inch of his refrigerator. There wasn’t an hour that passed that I wasn’t made aware of the current temperature in the refrigerator. I was entertained with the many theories my dad had as to why the refrigerator wasn’t cooling properly. It was a toss up between the outside heat and the heat and air system. He was convinced that because the system had to cut on so much that it was causing a malfunction in the fridge.
Finally at lunch time, I was able to meet my dad and pick out a new fridge to be delivered the following day. We were on the last lap now; I could almost see the finish line. More calls would follow with more reports on the refrigerator temperature before I arrived at my dad’s house the following day to await the delivery men. I was then provided with a demonstration of how the fridge wasn’t working properly as I continued to remain calm. It’s an insane sort of calm that normally only parents have experienced. It’s usually a calm that comes just before the breakdown which could take hours, days or months.

At last the delivery truck pulled up just as my dad was forcing me to feel the temperature of the milk jug. The old refrigerator was removed and the brand new one was put in its place. All was right with universe as I mentally ripped through the finish line. And just as I started to throw myself a little congratulatory mental party my dad began to meticulously scan through the new fridge.
“It’s smaller than my old one,” he says.
“No it isn’t, it’s the exact same size,” I respond.
“The door won’t open all the way because of the door frame,” he continues.
“Well then that must mean it isn’t smaller then right?” I answer.
“It isn’t cold yet,” he shot back. And here we go, 3….2……1…..Breakdown! My mental temperature exceeded my dad's refrigerator temp by 100 degrees in less than 5 seconds.

“Daddy, they just plugged it in 10 minutes ago! Are you trying to make me crazy? Do you realize I’m one evaluation away from the crazy house? Now put your food in that box and wait for it to get cold!
“Well you don’t have to yell,” he quietly answers.

Laughter echoes through the kitchen after that and at first I’m not sure where it’s coming from but I soon realize it’s coming from my own throat. My dad only looks at me puzzled as he continues to put his food back into his refrigerator. I go back to my mental celebration only this time there’s a keg of beer in it!
Hey, it's my mental party!

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Crouton

Crouton began his life as a breakfast meal for a future slithery serpent. Crouton was born to be food. We bought him to be food for my son's snake. Things went terribly wrong when Crouton refused to be eaten by a slow snake getting ready to shed. So we tried to keep Crouton as a pet for a few days. My daughter tried to tame him and we fed him croutons as the snake slowly became hungry.

Tonight we had a new visitor. A cute little green tree frog appeared on our window and my son fought to keep the frog in place of the mouse especially since the snake was becoming increasingly hungry.

Before I could cast my vote, Crouton was snapped from his now stinky little aquarium and offered to the serpent as a late night snack.

Crouton was a good pet for the few days we had him and my daughter is in tears over the loss. I can only explain it as the circle of life and offer my sympathy. Life is a difficult lesson for the young.

When Kids Become Parents

My mother was the absolute core of our family. Her personality and overall presence demanded immediate attention and she was who we all looked to for approval, guidance, advice and answers. In June of 2005 she was diagnosed with cancer and it spread quickly through her lymph nodes. Six weeks later she was released from the hospital after successfully responding to radiation and chemotherapy. The morning following her release I received a frantic call from my father. My mother was hemorrhaging and my father was helpless. I only lived a mile away but by the time I arrived she had collapsed to the floor and a pool of bright red blood surrounded her. It was the most traumatic event I'd ever endured and it took years for me to recover and reach a certain peace concerning her death. My father has never recovered. He has never found peace. At times it feels as though he's a ghost just floating through life looking for his purpose, trying to find his way home, grieving the loss of the other half of his heart and soul.

Transitioning into a parent of a parent was a very confusing and painful event. I fought it every step of the way reassuring myself that my dad would "snap" out of it. I convinced myself that he was just going through the grief process. I was also dealing with my own intense grief and the grief of my children. My mom left behind four grandchildren that loved her dearly. If God was testing me, I was failing miserably. I tried everything with my dad. Compassion, understanding, empathy, sympathy, pity, anger, tough love...you name it, I tried it. I did everything I could think of to get my dad to care again. He gave up on life after my mom died and it became my job to take care of him.

Over several months and years following my mother's death, my dad slowly stopped doing the normal things that people do everyday. He would go weeks without bathing, changing clothes, buying groceries, cleaning house...the list goes on. As slowly as this began to happen, my role began to change as well. Before my mom died, my dad was the person that helped me clean my gutters, mow my yard, fix my car and was always the general "handyman" around my house. This was especially true after my divorce. When rainwater would spill over the sides of my gutter, my dad would bring his ladder over and make sure that every leaf and limb was removed before he left. When I couldn't find time to keep up with the lawn, my dad would spend hours mowing and trimming without ever complaining and at least once a week I'd look out my window during one of my parent's many visits to see my dad underneath the hood of my car checking the oil and water. Provider and protector was the role my dad held for 33 years until the death of my mother.

Suddenly I found myself in the same position I was in as a mother of four children. I had to constantly ask my dad if he had taken a shower or mowed his yard. I was constantly harrassing him to clean his house and go to the doctor. There was rarely a day that went by that I didn't have to ask my dad if he had managed to do some simple task or another. Even simple things like eating or grocery shopping became a topic of conversation usually ending with me reprimanding him for not achieving the task.

It has taken 3 years for me to finally realize something that I wish I had realized in the very beginning. The mistake I had been making with my dad was putting a question mark at the end of my sentences. Recently, I went to the store and bought three things. A dry erase board, markers and a pill dispenser. The dry erase board is a sectioned off as a calendar so I was able to create a day to day agenda for my dad to follow. Certain days are shower days, others are cleaning days and some days are chore days. I have to attach consequences to this daily chore list or my dad won't follow it (just like a child). If he doesn't complete what is on his list for that day then in return, I refuse to accompany him to the doctor or pay his bills. I took over his checking account and bill paying a year ago. I know it sounds mean but it's the only thing that has worked so far. My dad seems to operate better with a routine. The daily agenda creates a routine for him and once he got past his tantrums, I think he appreciates and welcomes this routine. Just like with a child, I've had to make good on a couple of my consequences but it only took a couple of the "putting my foot down" scenarios to show my dad that I meant business. This is still a work in progress and it's still too early to make any real assessments but I plan to keep posting and updating our progress. We've only been practicing this new formula for a few weeks. I've also had to take control of his medicine because he wasn't taking it properly either. I now have two pill dispensers that I trade out each week and give to my dad with all of his medicine already placed in the daily dispenser.

I'm not sure exactly what I can say or advice I can give to people in the same position as I find myself but I can say, KEEP TRYING NEW THINGS! If one solution doesn't work, think of something else and try it. For some people, it may be necessary to stop asking their parents if they've done something and begin telling them that they have to do it. It's hard and it's awkward in the beginning but just like your children, in the end it's for their own good!

Why do Kids Yell?

Why do Kids Yell?
Are They Insane?
If adults began screaming uncontrollably, running throughout the house, beating up family members and throwing random objects, we would almost immediately be arrested or admitted to the nearest psychiatric ward. However, if you are under the age of 12, this behavior is a form of communication. Is it more productive than calmly sitting down and talking things out for hours? Probably not, but I think it is probably just as effective. At the end of a fifteen minute screaming match, my two middle children have finally prevented the other one from beating on the drum during a television program.
Communication. Who says it has to be civil?



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