Joy Cometh In the Morning

I got up this morning and lit the candelabra over the outside table and watched the sun come up with my wiener at my side. He was laying on a cushion I bought as a happy accident. The cushion was originally supposed to go on a bench and it didn't fit. It is now used as my wiener pillow for Schnitzel and BoBo. They sleep together on it, side by side, watching for careless squirrels in the back yard.
It's been a peaceful morning for me, coffee cup in hand, appreciating my house and yard in a way I never have before. Before, I had always seen the flaws of the house, what needed to be done and things that needed to be repaired. But the work is done and the house is clean and organized and the hardest thing I have to do is not screw it up.
We have lilac bushes in the back and surrounding the house that are in full bloom. They are not like the lavender lilac bushes I grew up as a child, but have white flowers and a pungent smell that fills the air with the sweet smell of spring. Our plants, the ones that survived the harsh freeze this past winter, are all blooming now. The morning air is cool and full of moisture, the kind of moisture that Houstonians recognize as the early signs of the humidity to come in the summer. Summer for us, is right around the corner. Before we know it, pools will be full of families trying to escape the summer Texas heat.
I realized this morning, just how much I love my house. Funny how that happens right before we have to move. It's not my first time down this path of packing up all of our earthly belongings in order to move to a place I have to start over in. When I was a child I had wanted a large family and house I could grow old in. I never once in all the time I was growing up, pictured myself as the person who moves a lot. I felt certain when I got married the first time, I would die in the house where my children were born. I moved from hometown back in 1986 and I haven't stopped moving since. I have spent just enough years in my houses to grow gardens, fix up the interior and then sell it to someone else. So far every move has been a move forward. I feel blessed and reassured with that, but at this moment I feel a little tired. I feel tired of moving, tired of change, tired of the adventure that keeps us packing every few years. This house is the second longest I have gotten to stay in one place. Maybe that is why I am feeling more tired about this than excited. Maybe having been stationary for a little longer this time has me feeling resistant to packing up and moving on. Whatever it is, I am certain of one thing. When it's time to go, I will dutifully pack our belongings, buckle my seat belt, put my tray table in the upright position, and go.
For now, right this minute, I will love being exactly where I am. I take great joy in walking around my spotless house. Having kids, means never having a house that is 100% clean, but right now that is exactly what I have. Because the house is for sale, we clean every day. The kids make their beds, pick up their clothes, dust and vacuum, in order to be at the ready in case we have a showing. It's wonderful to live this way, in the land of "perfect". I walk around our newly mulched flower beds and mowed yard sniffing the blooms, pulling the occasional weed and taking in the sights and smells of all of our hard work. I feel very lucky to be this happy when all else in our life seems so uncertain.I could worry and hand wring about where we might have to go, whether or not I have to learn a new city, where I will ever get another job, etc., or I could sit here smelling the lilacs, feeling incredibly grateful that the kids are healthy, the wieners are content and I am deeply, madly in love with my best friend. For now I choose the latter, seeing that committing myself to worry just causes frown lines and over eating.
Today I am happy. Today I feel content and relaxed and grateful. Today I commit my energy to try and keep it that way.

See You In Ten

Years ago when I was broke and the bills were mounting and I had no one to ask for help, my birthday was right around the corner and children asked me what I wanted.I looked at their innocent faces and saw how sincere they were about wanting to get me something, anything to make me happy. Every day when they would wake up they would see my furrowed brow and downward mouth, terrified because I didn't know how we were going to survive another month.My fear and unhappiness were palpable.The heaviness of not making enough money, no matter how much I worked hung on me like an iron suit. My kids loved me enough to want to do anything they could to make me happy. I would look at them and answer, "I don't need anything" and hope the question would go away, because we didn't have money for my birthday. Rest assured, I always made sure we celebrated their birthdays, in order for them to feel important to me and to the family. What I hadn't counted on was me making them aware that I didn't feel worthy of the same. That was the lesson I taught my kids, "you can have the world and I can have nothing, so don't even bother to try and celebrate me. I will not allow it."
I see now how destructive that thought process is and how much it hurt my kids. They loved me and thought I was worth everything. I made them feel foolish for even thinking that. It breaks my heart now, looking back at how far I had fallen from the dreams I had had for myself when I was a child and thought I WAS worthy of happiness and a good life. It breaks my heart because my kids were too young to do anything on their own, even if it was against my opinion, and treat me the way they thought I should be treated instead of the terrible way I had begun to treat myself. Somewhere back then I had stopped being a mother to be celebrated and I became the martyr.
My kids still love me, thank God! I have outgrown my need to sit in sack cloth and ashes and tell the woeful tale of why I am not worth a birthday cake. My birthday is right around the corner on Mother's Day. Michael asked me what I wanted. I originally said a diamond tennis bracelet. We then looked at each other and laughed. I say that every year and every year we have someone graduating, college expenses or big utility bills staring us in the face. I have no doubt that one year I will get my bracelet, but for now, we will continue to look at each other and laugh. "I'm serious, Kel, what do you want this year?" I sat and stared at him as if he had just spoken a foreign language. I named a movie I want to own and then said "Um..." for the next several minutes. I had listed several things I thought I had wanted a month before now and found myself not really wanting anything. The truth is, I am happy. I am really not sure of what I want right at this moment. I have been happy for so long now, my list of wants has dwindled. it isn't like before when I would say I didn't want anything because we were too poor to get anything. Back then I had a million things I wanted. Mostly, what I wanted back then was to fill the gaping hole in my heart. I currently do not have that hole. Michael, the kids, the pets and my friends have filled it to the brim. Actually, my heart is overflowing.
Still, I have to come up with some tangible thing for them to get me so we can celebrate around a fire hazard cake and packages with shiny paper. i am not a stuff gal, but I have realized that sometimes people in your life just want to get you something pretty that you can enjoy. Since I do not like making the same mistakes twice, I will find something they can pick up or at the very least lead them in the right direction. I am quite willing to celebrate me with them. Being happy at my very core has taught me that it's wonderful to celebrate how far I have come.
In my forty seven years I have been married, had children, lost children, lost my kid's father, been a nurse, been a massage therapist, been a friend, been a listener, been a survivor and written a book. so many time in my 47 years I have thought, "Wow, I can't believe that happened and I have not only survived, but grown in the process!" So many occasions I have counted my lucky stars and known, I mean really known, how truly blessed I am. IO have been able to do some pretty wonderful stuff. I have accomplished things that were only dreams to me when I started.
For me now, my biggest birthday wish is to have another goal like I did when I started writing the book. There are days when I still can't believe I did it. I love the fact that I set my mind to doing it and I did. there have been plenty of times when I have made plans , only to have to let them go for one reason or another.
On May 9, I will celebrate with my family a day that truly is all about me. I will gorge myself with cake and ice cream and laugh at the silly cards they will give. I have come a long way since the days of my martyrdom. The future holds a whole lot of promise for this young lady!

I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say "No"!

I am unable to say, "no" to rescuing animals. Michael on the other hand has no problem saying, "no, nyet, never, go!" I have been a sucker for animals since the day I was born. My mother will attest to the fact that I was forever dragging some raggedy animal home in order for us to save it. As a child I had thought I would be a vet, but I can't deal with sick animals. Humans I have no problem with handling. I have quite literally had my hands in places inside of people that no one should have to go and never winced. I have touched a human spine on a living person while doing a dressing for wound, and then went off and had lunch. Go figure.
We are now the proud owners of 3 dogs, 2 bratty cats and a sugar glider named Jeepers. Jeepers is the newest pet. Tom had a teacher whose kids didn't bond to the little sucker and she was giving him away. Thomas, unfortunately, has the compassion for animals via genes from his mother.
My dogs are for the most part pretty well behaved, sans one. Schnitzel, the dachshund, is ill tempered and feels completely entitled. I have never looked at my dogs as my children. I have to be honest,sometimes when people call their dogs their kids, I get upset because dogs don't give you stretch marks, teacher calls or need to go to college. pets don't require you teaching them how to stay out of jail. if you dog ends up in doggy prison, the pound, then you are the one to blame. I don't want to negate the intensity of attachment to pets, quite the contrary. I adore my pets, and my kids will be the first to tell you, I freely admit they are better behaved than my kids, most days. Although, it is true they are completely dependent on me for food, shelter and love, much like my own kids, they are easier to put to bed and they NEVER talk back. I love my pets and when anything has happened to them, or they have gotten sick or died, I have been devastated. But maybe it is not a good idea to compare that love to the love and devotion of parenting actual human beings.
My cats are lovable in their own right, as a favorite uncle would be, who rarely speaks, only hugs occasionally and shows up to see the family only when he wants to.They have their mind set on being independent and free thinking. just as my dogs fight for the privilege of the lap, my cats fight just as hard for quiet, undisturbed, alone time. Matches, the elder statesman, is 18 years old this year. I sneak up behind him almost daily and tell him to go to the light. He turns his head ever so slightly to give me his "Kiss my hairy butt" look and continues on napping. Hercules, the younger bratty cat is now 12 or 13. I can never remember. he acts as if he were a very young cat, bounding down the hallway, sneaking down the stairs to watch the wieners in their cages, taunting them as saunters to the kitchen to check things out. He knows if the wieners were loose, there would be blood. Most likely the wiener's blood. Hercules never has to fight the dogs, Matches will hunt the little dogs down and trap them behind the toilet, reminding them the claw is mightier than the bark, no matter how ferocious.
Jeepers the newest addition to our loud family is the loudest yet. As the smallest animal in our kingdom, he chatters in a way that makes you initially jump out of your own skin. He is part chipmunk, part flying squirrel, yet I call him a wombat.He looks a little in coloring like a lemur. He is nocturnal and pubescent, so days are not his friend. wake him up while the sun is shining and he will yell at you until you leave the room. He is a cheeky little monkey, who insists on getting dried blueberries and peanuts from me (grandma). He will ring his little bell to get your attention. He will grab onto the cage bars and rattle them, as if a prisoner from Alcatraz, so you will pay attention to him. He is demanding and a bit of a diva. When Tom has him out playing, he runs on his wheel, and takes flight out of the cage and jumps AT you. A calm demeanor is required to handle the Jeepers as he crawls all over you from stem to stern. He jumps from people to curtains to shelves with the grace of a Cirque De Soleil performer.
Ironically, none of the species really gets along with each other, but we haven't had an uprising since Jeepers wandered downstairs and took BoBo for a ride.

All of my animals are getting older, like their owner. Their eyes are beginning to dim, I notice with my bifocals on. We have been together for a long time, me and my crew. The walks we take are getting a little slower. The cats ignore us more now than ever except when food is involved and then Matches sits on the steps and calls out,"helloooooo". I try not to make him wait very long since he is an ancient cat.
I think this might be it for me, these animals. They are irreplaceable, one of a kind pets. They are part of what makes me think we are in for some very big changes. There are members in my animal kingdom who have already lived full lives and may not have too many years left. We are in the "every day is a gift" portion of the program. As they go, I am not sure if I will be so willing to say yes anymore. just as raising my kids has come to an end, maybe my tendency to own a petting zoo will dwindle as well. it's another "we'll see..." moment for me. For now I am enjoying my remaining time with my old dogs, my ancient cats and the baby Jeepers. As I write this, I just saw Matches peak his head around the stairway, as the three dogs lie in their respective beds snoring. BoBo's snoring is so loud that I have to increase the volume of the TV just to hear it. All is peaceful today in the kingdom, as it should be.

"May" be I Really Am Lucky

I was reading my “Psychology Today” when I ran into an article about luck. I read studies that were done to determine who is lucky and who is unlucky. I read that most serendipitous events happen to those who are fearless. I gave me pause to think about my own life and how lucky I have been. How many people can survive not just one, but two near death experiences and still end up funny. Yes, I think I am funny. Not hilarious, people would pay to see me funny, but I love irony, slapstick, and puns. In all that I wrote about in my book and this blog, I see how fortunate I am. I run into people I have on my mind all the time, either online, in person, or on the phone. I have had deep conversations with complete strangers asking them where they are from and what they think about any given subject. People fascinate me, so I am always at the ready with questions. I have found things about folks whose families have no clue. How you ask? I ask them. It’s why I write non-fiction. My non-fiction life events and stories of others and myself are infinitely more interesting and bazaar than anything my mind could drum up. Life for me really is crazier, zanier than fiction. It’s what makes me so damn happy.
That was another thing about lucky people, they are happier than others. Well, that’s what the article said and they have footnotes and double blind studies to back it up. I am happy most of the time. I laugh at the most ridiculous things. It’s easy for me to laugh because crying takes too much time and effort and makes me look like crap. I know I have written about crying many time here, but I haven’t emphasized how much I really do laugh. I guffaw, I mean, really belly laugh at least once a day. It makes my stomach tighten, face hurt from smiling and liquids shoot from my nose. Even as coffee squirts from my right nostril, landing in the fruit bowl in front of me, I wouldn’t trade the experience for a million polite smiles.
I have always felt I was lucky because I knew I was. Every day I wake up and count my blessings and thank the Big Guy for everything I have had in my life. Easy? NOOOOOOOO! Great? Oh hell yeah! Knowing how lucky I am has caused me to be even luckier, which was also pointed out in the article. Being somewhat fearless about taking chances has allowed me to remarry when I was advised not to. Not being married to Michael is something I cannot even explore in my psyche. If I could I would have him around me 24/7, ooh, and naked too! Just thought I would throw that in to gross out my kids. I had been burnt, so why try again? It’s not like I was getting married to have a family, I already had four kids and that has been a handful. I did it because I never wanted to regret the opportunity of sharing my heart with another human being, even if somewhere down the road I got squashed again. It is better to have loved and lost. So far my lucky streak has me loving and winning. It’s been the best bet I have ever made.
Writing a book about the worst things that have happened to you in your life, like bed wetting, divorce, medical arrests, suicidal teen, all of that is a scary. What if I am judged? What if it never sells? What if I am an illiterate idiot who just thinks she is lucky? I took the chance and wrote. I love that book, because it represents me not giving into other fears, anxiety and neurosis. I say I am neurotic, and I believe I am to some degree, but it never stops me from dreaming or trying to change and open my mind to things I have never done before.
I have failed many times in my life. If somebody wants to tally those up and believe my failures is what defines me then good luck to you, because there are tons of them. You will need a very sharp pencil and lots of time. The thing I am the proudest of is that I keep trying long after I have been told to stop. I listen more to the voice in my heart than the voice in my head. I never want to be the kind of person who wishes I had tried, but stopped short because I was afraid I would fail. Better to jump and fall down than stop and lay down. Unless you just want to take a nap, then by all means…
The article also said May babies have the most luck of all. I tend to believe it, since my birthday is May 9. As far as luck goes, I have been lucky to have friends, family and loved ones who have loved me deeply, truly for a very long time. As of next month it will be 47 out of 47 years of love. I have to tell you I think those odds are fantastic, which makes me the luckiest person I know.

Reality Bites

I have never written in a journal. I always wrote stories as if I were telling someone else what had happened to me. I wrote as if someone else was going to read it. I didn’t consciously write that way, I just wrote and that is how it turned out. I guess it goes back to my obsessive/compulsive need to use things, rather than to waste information on me when I already knew what had happened. I hate waste. I love to recycle, reuse and re purpose things. The idea of throwing things out has always bothered me. Even as a child I had pack rat behavior because I never wanted to simply throw things out. My writing reflects that in every way.
I was thinking about why the book hasn’t taken off the way I would like. The truth is I am having trouble “selling” myself. I believe in the book and think it can help others who are going through tough times, showing them even the worst possible scenarios have a silver lining of sorts. For me, it is difficult to push the book all the time. I see entertainers and “reality stars” push themselves all the time with no hesitation, while I languish in embarrassment of talking about myself too much. What is too much? Hell, I don’t know, I guess I struggle with all the chatter I hear on TV, radio and everywhere else as others talk non-stop about why we, the public should support them. I have always had some fear of buying into my own press. I want folks to buy the book because they can get something out of it, more than I want to make money. Maybe, I should want the money more, but I have never worked any job in order to make big money, but rather to feel more purposeful. It’s not that I don’t need money, I do. I usually need it more than I let on; I just have a difficult time talking about that aspect of life. I think, the fact I have known many people with a lot of money who are still not happy is why I wanted to be happy more than I wanted to be rich.
I boycotted Dancing with the Stars this season. I didn’t want to hear Kate Gosselin, for one more minute, talk about how she needed millions to support her eight kids. She goes on and on about how she needs to make money to support her kids in the media when she already has a career in nursing. Maybe if she sold that multimillion dollar house in PA she could stop crying. I questioned my own motives for not “liking” her or her ex. Was I jealous? I had been a single parent of four children with no dad, because he was deceased and had to work two jobs, so was I merely a green eyed monster? She and that dufus of a father had so many opportunities because of their TV show, while I struggled to stay alive and afloat. Honestly, I don’t think I am jealous. I really didn’t approve of exploiting one’s children to make money for any reason. I had enjoyed the show up and until I heard the parents talk about how unfair it would be to their kids not to have ski vacations out west, or go to Hawaii. What??!!!??? I then watched as they bought a multimillion dollar house and went on book tours. I sat and shook my head. I didn’t begrudge the little ones having vacations, but if a parent thinks it’s “unfair” that they can’t take their children on really expensive vacations, then I think something is screwed up. I watch Kate promote herself constantly. Her job is promoting herself and being a single mom as if that were the commodity. I try and see where her talent is. What exactly is it that she does that makes her so special? She talks about being in movies, TV and writing books. OK, so she writes. I have no idea if she writes her own stuff or has a ghost writer. I think she has already put out three books in a very short time. Wow. It took me ten years to write even one book, mostly because I was busy with my kids. Then I remember that she has mannies, nannies and hired help. Oh, I think, she is talking about being a single mom, but not really having to live the hard life style of one. I will grant you that travelling away from your kids is hard, but she has chosen to do that. She has had choices to make all along and she has made them, the good, the bad and the ugly. She gets no sympathy from me. It’s not because I have no compassion, but I will spend my time and energy on women who didn’t sell their kids as a TV show. I will celebrate women, who talk of others instead of always using “I” statements. I think about myself, always doing the check list to make sure this not me being bitter. I don’t envy her. Fame is fleeting. One day she will wake up and realize, as she feigns disdain of the very paparazzi she needs in order to maintain her fame, that this will all be over. One day people won’t want to hear about poor, poor Kate and how she has to support these kids. Who I really feel sorry for are the kids. I think their parents have their priorities all screwed up and they began to believe their own press. These kids will grow up and the memories they have will be of strangers raising them as, mommy and daddy tried to get face time.
I’ll be honest here, reality TV has made me gun shy away from wanting to promote myself. I have never wanted to be a hooker on any level. I am proud of the work I have done in all my careers. Writing is just one of many accomplishments I have. I have no idea how to promote myself without the worry of selling myself out. I have never wanted to be famous. I just wanted to be the best in whatever I have done. I like being accomplished, not popular. I wasn’t super popular back in school when it counted, so to have any of that nonsense now, to me, just doesn’t make sense. They called Kate ratings gold. I suppose that is a compliment, but train wrecks and natural disasters are ratings gold too. Her next big move is a show where she gives parenting advice!!!?????!!! WTF? She has been a parent for a New York minute and now she wants to tell us how to do it? Oh, UNCLE! ENOUGH already! I wish TLC would take a woman, average height and weight, middle class who is close to retirement who has GROWN children and ask her to do an advice show. Now that show I would watch. Someone’s Bubby, in a house dress, talking over coffee about how her eldest snuck out the window and what she did to handle it. Her kids would all have survived childhood, high school and college, now married with their own kids, stopping by asking Bubby for advice as we listen in. Think about the invaluable information we would get and how we would find out that we don’t have to be perfect, but we do have to make sacrifices and be present. Here’s what I am certain of: Kids don’t know from poor, unless they are told. They will gladly let go of every item they own to have you with them. How do I know this? My own kids told me when they were little. I was trapped in the time versus money conundrum, when they made it very clear that money was less important to them as having me home. My youngest child recently reiterated how happy she is that I am home these days. It comforts her to know she can call anytime and I am available to her. She waited a long time for this privilege. I wish I had been able to give it to her sooner.
As far as what I am going to do as me promoting me? I have no answers as to how I will do that. I will not be following the lead of the aforementioned “reality star”. Maybe I will see how Ellen Degeneres has done it, or Oprah. I do notice these folks don’t have kids. Let me rethink this…Meryll Streep just does her work and lets it speak for itself. So maybe I will just do my work and let that be what promotes me. I guess you get to be the judge.

Owling At the Moon

Yesterday was a bit of a disappointment, wonderful accomplishment and miraculous events. It has definitely been a weird year. I am on hiatus from my project due to house showings. I should have recognized that now would be a difficult time to do what I wanted, but I thought I would give it a try. I have not totally abandoned my idea of self care; I have merely revised my expectations and goal driven dates.
The disappointment came in the form of talking with friends who are currently not being recognized by their company. They have not received raises since a decade ago and they were told yesterday that they will not get any now either. They are stricken. Grief, disappointment, low morale, and of course frustration, have them feeling very down in the dumps. I feel for them because when I worked as a nurse we didn’t get paid raises either. There was always some excuse for the company to turn their backs on us and make us feel as if we didn’t deserve to be paid at all. I remember telling my friends about this and not wishing this feeling on a dog, let alone folks who have dedicated their lives to a company, who now feels absolutely no loyalty to them. It’s excruciating to watch.
My youngest child, Betty, who is graduating next month, was nominated for “Most Talkative” and “Miss KHS”. She won “Most Talkative”. Michael and I have watched her work so hard for that high school. Although she didn’t win Miss KHS by her peers, she is all that and so much more to us. The nomination was a real honor. There are hundreds of kids who attend that school and she was nominated as one of three. Michael and I were so very proud of our girl.
My oldest child, Christine is a senior in college. After working so hard at school, carrying a part time job, volunteering for professors, her fraternity and being there for her friends, she had been feeling stuck. The never ending to do list she faced everyday was getting to her. “I feel like my life is never going to start”, she moaned on the phone. “Hang in there,” I told her, “things are just going to get better.” Sure enough, she hung in there and is currently on a flight to NYC to see world renowned art museums. She has dreamt of this day for years. She has spent years and years studying art history, preparing herself for opportunities unknown. No one deserves this trip more than she does. I tell my kids good luck is merely preparedness meeting opportunity. Christine’s good fortune had more to do with her tenacity than anything else.
I had fallen asleep last night feeling restless. My life is full of opposites right now. One response to our house was not overwhelming positive, while another was. One career is stalling while another is just beginning. One child will be just starting college while another will be finishing up. Our renovation is over and we are looking for a new house with old problems. I feel like a living paradox. I struggled to fall asleep, begging my mind to slow and stop the chatter. I let go of one question at a time that was plaguing my brain for immediate answers that I do not have. I lay looking at nothing, hoping for a reprieve. I started saying to myself in my head, “I have no control over any of this. This is not my battle to fight, my problem to solve or my question to answer. God, please help me to let go and know that it’s not up to me.” I fell asleep a little later. I was dreaming that people had barged into our newly fixed up home and began ripping things apart. I was irate in the dream and began screaming and pushing these intruders towards the door. As I fought my own subconscious in my dream, I had this feeling of utter despair. In this exact moment I woke up in a cold sweat. I sat bolt upright and focused my eyes on the clock. It was exactly 1:21 am. My heart pounding, my breath coming in short bursts, I knew sleep would not be mine for quite some time. I put my feet on the floor and forced myself to hoist my butt up and headed for the kitchen. My kitchen is my refuse. It is the place I live the most, work the hardest and express myself every day. I grabbed a glass of ice tea and decided to go sit outside for the fresh air. I was sitting outside, forcing myself to take deep breaths in order to avoid an anxiety attack. Worry began to fill my already busy head and I feared once it started I would slowly fall down the slippery slope of wasted energy and time. One breath at time I began to pray/talk to God. I asked for a sign that things would be OK if I allowed it. I am usually the biggest reason things don’t work out. I am truly my own worst enemy. I just sat looking at the night sky, once again emptying my head one thought at a time. Suddenly, I heard this soft whispered whooshing sound. I looked straight in front of me and I saw an owl fly over the grassy part of the yard to a branch on a tree that was 30 feet in front of me. It sat on a branch that was nearly perfectly straight on our tree that I had never noticed before. It was directly in front of me looking me straight in the eye. We watched one another for about 10 minutes, when a rustling sound back by the bayou got the owl’s attention. A minute later the owl mad a great sweeping gesture with its wings and flew away. I knew then, as I know now that moment was miraculous. I have never seen an owl that close before. I certainly never had one look me in the eye before. I wished I had a camera with me. I wished I had some way of capturing that moment so I could show everybody the miracle of it. But that’s the thing about miracles, they are nearly impossible to describe. Even when one has an image and detailed description, it never does the moment justice for the power it holds. Was it a sign from God? Probably, but I am rather dense when it comes to signs sometimes and I am not always sure of the meaning. I think if nothing else, I felt heard. It wasn’t so much about what the owl meant in some symbolic term as it was the opportunity to see the owl and be totally present in the moment. Had I not been awake at that exact time, had I decided to watch TV rather than sit outside, had I not been actively trying to quiet my body and my mind, I would have missed out on an extraordinary event. Any meaning beyond that, for now, is inconsequential for me.
My day was filled to the brim with good, bad, scary, wonderful, exciting, and promising things. I went back to bed being so very grateful for my miracle in the middle of the night. I fell fast asleep, and slept like a baby.

The Circle is Expanding

In my book I wrote a chapter called, “The Circle of Trust”. In this chapter I write about talking to my kids, my boys in particular. Raising young men, for me, was difficult since their father was deceased and I had no brothers to rely on. My father was the only male in my household, growing up, and he came from a generation that didn’t talk a whole lot. He lived in household of his mother, wife and two daughters. I think about that now and I can’t imagine living in an all male household. I need the estrogen factor to maintain my foothold on all things girlie. My dad was surrounded by bra straps, tampons and mood swings. It had to be tough.

My sons had a 50/50 shot at power since I have two daughters and remarried. My husband is not a big talker either, so I have had to do the talking and hope that my sons would learn the art of expression. Since they were in high school they have learned to tell me their truth and let the chips fall where they may. I try and listen with my heart and not judge too quickly. It isn’t easy for me. Boys do not think like girls. Boys tend to smell, laugh inappropriately and can’t find their way out of a paper bag. What they do possess is a great need for adventure, so there is very little they won’t try. They are braver than their female counterparts. They have a deep sense of pride. Girls will jump to apology in order to sooth a bad situation, where as boys will stand their ground, knowing full well they are full of crap. Better to be wrong than appear weak.

The circle of trust is based on letting boys be boys. The phrase “boys will be boys” has turned into some kind of excuse for bad behavior. That is not what I am talking about. I am referring to allowing boys express themselves as they are and not some womanized version of themselves. Boys and girls are not the same. Even if you raise them the exact same, and I am not totally sure how you would do that, they have their own way of dealing with things that is innate to their gender. Boys are fixers, doers, and responders. If you need something from them, you have but to ask them, but if you just want to sit around and talk about your feelings, then I suggest you call a girlfriend. My husband does listen to me about my feelings, however he has had years of practice with women and I have learned to try and tell him real things he can do to help me. I do not expect him to read my mind or know things about me and my feelings by osmosis. That is a dangerous game that should never be played in a real relationship.

My boys are not perfect. They were born perfect and have slowly slid down hill ever since. I think this happens to all of us. None of us will ever be as perfect as the day we are born. We are completely naked, raw emotionally, physically and spiritually. I have people in my life whose Little Johnny is perfect. Little Johnny is captain of the football team, a straight A student who never swears, goes to church and doesn’t question his parents. Oh, that Little Johnny is just the best. He is polite and everybody just loves him! I listen as they go on and on about Little Johnny and how perfect he is. When there is finally a break in the conversation, they look at me and wait for me to say something about my sons. Mostly they do this in order for them to have another opportunity to brag about Little Johnny all the while making my son’s accomplishments look like boo-boo. What they get from me is nothing. I say nothing about my kids to others who have perfect Little Johnny’s. There is no point in telling them about my perfectly normal sons and the missteps and accomplishments they have. Those parents don’t want to hear about normal. They want to stay in a place of delusion about their Little Johnny and never know that anything bad has ever happened. I get that place of denial so many parents live in. I feel sorry for them and their Little Johnnies. It’s a mentality that sets families up to fail, I mean, really hit the skids and maybe never recover. There is this idea of parents using their kids in a giant pissing contest. If their kids are perfect then all is well with the world and they are a successful human being. If their kids make big mistakes then they are a failure and everyone will know what a loser they are. It’s ridiculous and the pressure it puts on kids is pathetic. If you think at the age of 21 they haven’t made life altering mistakes then either you are delusional or your kids have never left the house. They are supposed to screw up. Our only real job as parents is instilling in our kids the confidence to face with the world and deal with things as they come. We are supposed to teach coping skills, not perfection. There is no perfect, so it’s time to let that go. If you are a parent who stands around and brags non-stop about your kids to anybody with a set of ears, then I have a story for you.

There was this woman who used to come to me for massage once a month. Every time she came in she went on and on about her perfect Little Suzy. Little Suzy was on the dance team, dated the quarterback, got straight A’s, was voted most something or another. Little Suzy was going to attend the same college as my daughter. That seemed like a safe subject so I brought it up. She asked about my daughter, but I sensed she had ulterior motives. I said only what she was majoring in and I got the “Oh” face. And there it was, the condescension of a parent too tied to her child’s success. Instantly I felt sorry for Little Suzy, knowing full well her mother’s self esteem was tied directly to Little Suzy’s successes and failures. I stopped talking the instant I was sure I knew where this was going. Months later after both girls had gone off to college I saw the woman again. For another hour I listened to the adventures of perfect Little Suzy. When she asked about my daughter the only thing I said was, “she’s fine”. One year later the woman came in for a massage. She looked as though she had been hit by a bus. I asked how she was and she looked at me with tear filled eyes and said, “Things at my house are just awful!” I braced myself for what I was certain I would hear. Sure enough Little Suzy had been kicked out of college, became a meth addict and had done all kinds of terrifying stuff. Little Suzy was living at home, but not dealing with her addiction and would soon be kicked out to the curb if she didn’t stay in rehab. The moral of the story is-----kids are not perfect no matter how much we want them to be. Parenting young adults is as much about damage control as it is about anything else. My heart goes out to that woman. She had made a classic mistake in pinning all of her hopes and dreams on her kid, when in fact the best thing you can teach your kids is to live everyday to their full potential for themselves, not us. Our children’s lives aren’t about us, it’s about raising productive healthy kids who can handle their own stuff.

What does this have to do with the circle of trust? Everything! Look, I am not sure about much, but something I am certain of, stake my life on it, certain is, that kids are better off when they don’t have to be perfect. They need to know we love them as they are exactly at that moment, warts and all. One father said he didn’t approve of swearing and found it vulgar. I get that, I really do. However much I don’t like to hear my kids use vulgar language, it does seem to be a rite of passage for most kids. His kids are young yet and they may never swear. They may never do anything vulgar or distasteful, or they may grow up, do vulgar things because they are young and simply grow out of it, like most kids. My kids say things that make me cringe. I think sometimes they do it on purpose. Some things they get away with and some things they don’t, it really depends on my mood and what is being said. The bigger issue for me is that they talk to me. I can make it so restrictive they give up trying to say anything, because they fear offending me or I can loosen the borders and sift through, so they have a soft place to fall. I am not criticizing the guy who finds foul language vulgar, for his opinion. He hasn’t gotten to the high school portion of the program, so things may change for him. I hope his kids don’t disappoint him. It’s heartbreaking when that happens. I just know having watched so many kids go through adolescence, that they need to decompress in whatever way they can. For those of you who are on the fence about vulgar language and the Circle of Trust concept, I recently saw a study that showed that people who let off steam by swearing decrease their stress more than those who don’t, have lower blood pressure and tend to live longer. I am not encouraging kids to swear, I am just not freaking out because they do. My only rule is no JC’s or GD’s. God is off limits.

There are so few things I am certain of, so I am giddy as a school girl that I am relatively certain of this.