Pets
More about the big house
Another cool thing about living on the children's home campus, was the opportunity for pets! With the huge back yard and acreage on and around the campus, it was a small bit of the country in the midst of the almost-inner-city surrounding area.
We had a dog when we moved in; a dachshund named Lady Gertrude (Trudy for short). Trudy was the victim of her ability to roam free on the children's home grounds and probably got ahold of some rat poisoning. This was my first experience with loss, but the beginning of a small stream of other pets.
I don't know when we got our cat, Mittens, who was mean and enormous and liked to have diarrhea in the middle of my bed. He probably did this as a punishment for my dressing him up in doll clothing occasionally. The house was set up in a big circle; enter, through the living room ,kitchen, right into the dining room another through a guest room, through the family room and back where you began. You could also go past the stairs and straight into the dining room. The dining room floor was warped, forming little bumpy hills.
Which brings us to yet another dog. We got a toy rat terrier who was a retired show dog. Her poor little legs had been broken and were crooked, keeping her from being shown. Her name was Tina and she was a third of the size of Mittens the cat. Usually dogs chase cats, but in this case, nervous hyper little Tina liked to provoke Mittens (large mean slow cat) to chase her through the house. Once she had annoyed Mittens enough, a chase would ensue around the circle of rooms. Just as the chase was at it's height, Tina would abruptly change directions and Mittens would scramble to get his big old self to follow. Usually what happened was a failed attempt to get a grip on the floor and he would sail across the dining room and over the mogul-sized bumps on the linoleum and splat against the wall. Tina would stand by watching the spectacle. Mittens would shake himself and walk away with a look of " meant to do that" on his face.
Tina lasted a while. Long enough for me to enjoy lowering her slowly into the snow and watch her frantically dog paddle before she hit the top layer. Probably a lot of dogs do this, but I thought it was pretty funny.
I don't know what order they came in , but for awhile we seemed to go through dogs the was other people go through hamsters. There was Toby, a beagle, who I don't really remember. There was Macgregor, a Scottie, (I think) who was a champion at running away. My dad looked for him at first, but after awhile I think he got fed up and said good riddance.
Some of our pets had come and gone prior to the big house. I never knew my sister's first pet whose name was Uruh because my parents ask me sister what to name him. Being maybe one year old she pointed and said a noise sounding like Uruh. I don't know what became of Uruh, but I am guessing that it was a blessing to no longer have to stand and the porch and yell "Here, Uruh".
At one point we had hamsters until one of them had babies which she promptly chewed up like a carnivorous little cannibal. When my mom opened the cage to feed them and a disembodied head fell out, the were gone.
We had a cat named Puddy who climbed into the car manifold (or something like that) and when my dad started the car...Well, I'm thinking it wasn't pretty
We had a pretty little Siamese cat named Sammy. My mom and I witnessed our neighbor back out of her driveway and send the cat flying through the air. I remember her landing with her legs in the air and writhing and yowling until she final kicked the bucket. My mom and I spent the day crying until my dad got home and said "For Pete's sake! I thought something had happened to Beth the way you were carrying on" Maybe it was a little over the top, but the whole 'back attack" thing was pretty traumatic!
Back to the big house. We had a fish tank briefly, too, but it sprang a leak and the fish got flushed.
We finally had one successful pet which was the unlikeliest and most unusual pet of all.
I think I will leave you hanging, now and let you wonder what the heck came next.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Saturday, September 14, 2013
HOUSES II
We left off with my 4th move in 7 years.
This is the house on Markdale from the previous post.
The next house was the most interesting so far, partly because I actually remember it so well, but also because of the house itself.
My dad was the resident director of a children's home in St. Louis so we moved to a big house on the children's home campus. This was a BIG house. I think it was 100 years old when we moved in and that was ...1968! (OMG) My dad could probably tell me the history of that house, but I just knew it was old and had been part of the children's home from the start. It had five bedrooms, two full baths, and at least one half bath. I don't remember if there was another one downstairs. It had the most terrifying basement in the universe, and not just because we used to make haunted housed down there. I t had one room with a huge meat hook hanging in the middle! ( The stuff of horror movies!)
The house was so old and had such high ceilings that the stairway had to make a 180 degree turn half way up. It had a big enough landing that one of my sister's friend made at least one super 8 movie using it as a throne room.
We went from the tiny bedroom house to one that had enough bedrooms for everyone. However, my brother still had the smallest room in the whole house! This was like some sort of bad curse on him or something. My room was next to the small half bath upstairs. There was an entrance into my dad's office on the other side of the bathroom. This was the second scariest place in the house! This room had a closet with a closet in it! Swear to God! And this house was clearly not built with the modern day closet accommodations with walk in closets so big you have to call a cab to get to the other side. I am surprised there was no meat hook in that closet! My brother had to walk through that room to get to the bath room, but he would rather walk all the way around the other way and go through my room if he need to go. It was that scary.
I am not saying that this house was haunted, but it was. There are at least two incidents that make me say that. The first was, that the faucet in that bathroom used to turn on full blast by itself. I would be in my room, minding my own business, when I would here this loud whoosh. I would go in the bathroom to find the water on. That faucet was not loose and I am not talking a slow leaky drip. Full Blast! Do old faucets do that?
On at least one occasion I watched a bag of groceries fall off a chair in slow motion. It went from sitting in the middle of the chair to tipping over to falling on the floor. Maybe this was just a top heavy bag responding to physics, but I don't think so!
The last truly freaky thing did not actually happen in the house, so I am wondering about poltergeist possibilities! I was walking our dog on the way to pick up my brother at the campus day care center. I was passing one of the cottages ( one of the houses for girls in this case) Something made me look up at the window. I saw it sort of bend and ripple and it suddenly burst into pieces! One of the girls came to the window and yelled, "Hey girl! Did you throw something at that window?" I was pretty freaked out myself! "I was just walking my dog!" I yelled back and burst into tears. The house mother ran up to the window and saw it was me and realized that maybe she shouldn't accuse her bosses daughter of wrong-doing. Plus there was no object that could account for the breakage and the window was at lease two feet over my head so there was no way I could have reached it, not to mention that my ability to throw hard enough to break a window was nil.
So the house was big and old and scary, but it was also a cool place to live. It had a huge back yard. There was a pool on the campus, so we got to swim every day in the summer. There were three trampolines on the campus and we all got pretty good at doing tricks. This was before all the safety rules and liability insurance stuff. The whole time we lived there, no one broke the rules of one person at a time and five minutes per turn and I don't remember anyone getting hurt either.
That's enough for today, but I have a lot more to say about that house, so I will tell you more next time.
I am going to a training tomorrow to become a volunteer at Rainbow Hospice, so I will probably not get a chance to write before Sunday, but I am on a roll and will be back soon. Until then, here is a pic from a surprise going away party my friend Kellie (left side blue shirt) gave me when we moved. You can tell it was a surprise party because I was dressed so dorky! Although, it probably wouldn't have mattered. I think I always dressed dorky then. Oh yeah, I am the one with glasses. That's my brother in the front row. His growth was obviously stunted from being forced to sleep in tiny bedrooms. And that is my sister's arm. She was probably trying to get out of the picture. Epic fail...
We left off with my 4th move in 7 years.
This is the house on Markdale from the previous post.
The next house was the most interesting so far, partly because I actually remember it so well, but also because of the house itself.
My dad was the resident director of a children's home in St. Louis so we moved to a big house on the children's home campus. This was a BIG house. I think it was 100 years old when we moved in and that was ...1968! (OMG) My dad could probably tell me the history of that house, but I just knew it was old and had been part of the children's home from the start. It had five bedrooms, two full baths, and at least one half bath. I don't remember if there was another one downstairs. It had the most terrifying basement in the universe, and not just because we used to make haunted housed down there. I t had one room with a huge meat hook hanging in the middle! ( The stuff of horror movies!)
The house was so old and had such high ceilings that the stairway had to make a 180 degree turn half way up. It had a big enough landing that one of my sister's friend made at least one super 8 movie using it as a throne room.
We went from the tiny bedroom house to one that had enough bedrooms for everyone. However, my brother still had the smallest room in the whole house! This was like some sort of bad curse on him or something. My room was next to the small half bath upstairs. There was an entrance into my dad's office on the other side of the bathroom. This was the second scariest place in the house! This room had a closet with a closet in it! Swear to God! And this house was clearly not built with the modern day closet accommodations with walk in closets so big you have to call a cab to get to the other side. I am surprised there was no meat hook in that closet! My brother had to walk through that room to get to the bath room, but he would rather walk all the way around the other way and go through my room if he need to go. It was that scary.
I am not saying that this house was haunted, but it was. There are at least two incidents that make me say that. The first was, that the faucet in that bathroom used to turn on full blast by itself. I would be in my room, minding my own business, when I would here this loud whoosh. I would go in the bathroom to find the water on. That faucet was not loose and I am not talking a slow leaky drip. Full Blast! Do old faucets do that?
On at least one occasion I watched a bag of groceries fall off a chair in slow motion. It went from sitting in the middle of the chair to tipping over to falling on the floor. Maybe this was just a top heavy bag responding to physics, but I don't think so!
The last truly freaky thing did not actually happen in the house, so I am wondering about poltergeist possibilities! I was walking our dog on the way to pick up my brother at the campus day care center. I was passing one of the cottages ( one of the houses for girls in this case) Something made me look up at the window. I saw it sort of bend and ripple and it suddenly burst into pieces! One of the girls came to the window and yelled, "Hey girl! Did you throw something at that window?" I was pretty freaked out myself! "I was just walking my dog!" I yelled back and burst into tears. The house mother ran up to the window and saw it was me and realized that maybe she shouldn't accuse her bosses daughter of wrong-doing. Plus there was no object that could account for the breakage and the window was at lease two feet over my head so there was no way I could have reached it, not to mention that my ability to throw hard enough to break a window was nil.
So the house was big and old and scary, but it was also a cool place to live. It had a huge back yard. There was a pool on the campus, so we got to swim every day in the summer. There were three trampolines on the campus and we all got pretty good at doing tricks. This was before all the safety rules and liability insurance stuff. The whole time we lived there, no one broke the rules of one person at a time and five minutes per turn and I don't remember anyone getting hurt either.
That's enough for today, but I have a lot more to say about that house, so I will tell you more next time.
I am going to a training tomorrow to become a volunteer at Rainbow Hospice, so I will probably not get a chance to write before Sunday, but I am on a roll and will be back soon. Until then, here is a pic from a surprise going away party my friend Kellie (left side blue shirt) gave me when we moved. You can tell it was a surprise party because I was dressed so dorky! Although, it probably wouldn't have mattered. I think I always dressed dorky then. Oh yeah, I am the one with glasses. That's my brother in the front row. His growth was obviously stunted from being forced to sleep in tiny bedrooms. And that is my sister's arm. She was probably trying to get out of the picture. Epic fail...
Friday, September 13, 2013
Houses
Houses
We lucked out when we bought our current home. We bought when I was pregnant in 1995. This was right before the big real estate bubble began (Fortunate thing #1) and we paid what I thought was a crazy price, but I now know is a crazy low price. The Chicago area, as opposed to the other Midwest towns in which I had previously resided, was much more expensive. Similar houses in, say Jefferson City, where I grew up, were at lease 30 to 50 % less expensive. We wanted something between my job in the city and my husband's job in the west suburbs. We quickly figured out that the northwesr suburbs were not the bargain area of Chicagoland! We finally found some affordable houses in Des Plaines. Des Plaines (pronounced d'splaines all one word, no silent s's) is right above O'Hare airport and being awakned by low flying jets at 2 am is not unusual. But, (fortunate thing #2) we got a house situated close to the major highways with quick access to downtown Chicago (when there is no traffic!) and a decent route to the west as well.
We closed on the house on July 25 which was theoretically before my due date. However, my anxious son decided to enter the world a month early, so his first week on the planet involved attempting to keep him comfortable, fed and out of packing boxes. Since he was early and only 4lbs, this was not an easy task.
However, the move was basically quick and unproblematic. We were able to get the house into live-able condition before hand. Besides the great location of the house, it was below market price for the size due to the fact that it was filthy when we bought it! (Fortunate thing #3). The previous owners were not into cleaning. The toilets appeared stained and I figured we would have to replace them. The owners had used those blue things you hang in the tank as their ONLY cleaning method. After some elbow grease and some scrubbing bubbles, be discovered gleaming porcelain under the puke inducing grime. We were able to pull up the carpeting in the bathrooms as well (yes, carpeting in the bathroom!!)
The people on House Hunters always annoy the Hell out of me. No matter what their budget, they insist on granite counters and the most up-to date colors on the walls. (Gosh, too bad the wall color is the only thing you can't change!) Hey baby, beggars can't be choosers! Just glad for four walls and an attached garage!
Fortunate thing #4 happened when I got diagnosed with MS in 1996. We had looked at and even put a bid on at least one two story Cape Cod style house. The house we bought is a ranch style house on a slab (no basement) with only one step to get in. Thus we avoided the nightmare of retrofitting a house to accommodate my hatred of stairs!
Since being here, we have updated both bathrooms, replaced all the carpeting twice, redone the kitchen, and, oh yeah, gotten the airport sound proofing! This house came standard with window unit air conditioners, and radiant heat. The windows and doors were the original from the late 50's when this home was built. Needles to say, this was not the most airtight or energy efficient home. Due to our close proximity to the airport, we qualified for soundproofing. (Fortunate thing #5) The double hung windows, steel doors, air conditioning and forced air heat completely paid for courtesy of the airport and the Chicago tax payers, has transformed this house from one-step above a mobile home, to a neat little suburban lower middle class oasis!
We have now lived in this home for 18 years which is the longest I've ever lived in one
place! My son, apart from the two weeks in a semi-empty two bedroom apartment, has lived in this house his whole life!
This is weird to me since we moved 4 times before I graduated from High School.
I don't remember the first house I lived in. I thought I had a brief memory of it, but I think I was on a trike and I'm pretty sure that I was too young to reach the pedals on those ginormous old fashioned tricycles before we moved.
The first house I do remember, it the one in Godfrey, Illinois. I remember lots of things about that house. It was a small ranch house at the bottom of a hill. I got chased by a dog running down that hill. He knocked me down and stepped on my forehead, It bled like crazy. My mom thought I had cut my arm as if I was some 4 year old suicidal goth queen. . My sister was yelling at me to run across the hill instead of down and since I chose not to listen to her and got stepped on by the dog, I, blame her for not forcing me to do what she said and therefore scarring me for life. I think that dog's name was Nails.
After kindergarten, we moved to St. Louis so my dad could become the director of Evangelical Children's Home. We lived in a tri-level with the smallest bedrooms I have ever seen. My brother's room was smaller than the sleeping area in a semi truck. I think we had to use a lever of some kind to pry him out every morning. My sister and I shared the "bigger" bed room that had enough space for a bunk bed and twelve thousand stuffed animal, all of which slept in my bed every night. I finished first grade and maybe some of second there. Dad's master plan for the tiny bedroom house to have it be used as a group home for very tiny troubled children, but the neighborhood balked at having even tiny troubled kids in their midst. So, somehow, that meant we had to move again!
The next house was a lot more interesting and since this is a long post (for me), I will leave you hanging and publish more tomorrow.
.
We lucked out when we bought our current home. We bought when I was pregnant in 1995. This was right before the big real estate bubble began (Fortunate thing #1) and we paid what I thought was a crazy price, but I now know is a crazy low price. The Chicago area, as opposed to the other Midwest towns in which I had previously resided, was much more expensive. Similar houses in, say Jefferson City, where I grew up, were at lease 30 to 50 % less expensive. We wanted something between my job in the city and my husband's job in the west suburbs. We quickly figured out that the northwesr suburbs were not the bargain area of Chicagoland! We finally found some affordable houses in Des Plaines. Des Plaines (pronounced d'splaines all one word, no silent s's) is right above O'Hare airport and being awakned by low flying jets at 2 am is not unusual. But, (fortunate thing #2) we got a house situated close to the major highways with quick access to downtown Chicago (when there is no traffic!) and a decent route to the west as well.
We closed on the house on July 25 which was theoretically before my due date. However, my anxious son decided to enter the world a month early, so his first week on the planet involved attempting to keep him comfortable, fed and out of packing boxes. Since he was early and only 4lbs, this was not an easy task.
However, the move was basically quick and unproblematic. We were able to get the house into live-able condition before hand. Besides the great location of the house, it was below market price for the size due to the fact that it was filthy when we bought it! (Fortunate thing #3). The previous owners were not into cleaning. The toilets appeared stained and I figured we would have to replace them. The owners had used those blue things you hang in the tank as their ONLY cleaning method. After some elbow grease and some scrubbing bubbles, be discovered gleaming porcelain under the puke inducing grime. We were able to pull up the carpeting in the bathrooms as well (yes, carpeting in the bathroom!!)
The people on House Hunters always annoy the Hell out of me. No matter what their budget, they insist on granite counters and the most up-to date colors on the walls. (Gosh, too bad the wall color is the only thing you can't change!) Hey baby, beggars can't be choosers! Just glad for four walls and an attached garage!
Fortunate thing #4 happened when I got diagnosed with MS in 1996. We had looked at and even put a bid on at least one two story Cape Cod style house. The house we bought is a ranch style house on a slab (no basement) with only one step to get in. Thus we avoided the nightmare of retrofitting a house to accommodate my hatred of stairs!
Since being here, we have updated both bathrooms, replaced all the carpeting twice, redone the kitchen, and, oh yeah, gotten the airport sound proofing! This house came standard with window unit air conditioners, and radiant heat. The windows and doors were the original from the late 50's when this home was built. Needles to say, this was not the most airtight or energy efficient home. Due to our close proximity to the airport, we qualified for soundproofing. (Fortunate thing #5) The double hung windows, steel doors, air conditioning and forced air heat completely paid for courtesy of the airport and the Chicago tax payers, has transformed this house from one-step above a mobile home, to a neat little suburban lower middle class oasis!
We have now lived in this home for 18 years which is the longest I've ever lived in one
place! My son, apart from the two weeks in a semi-empty two bedroom apartment, has lived in this house his whole life!
This is weird to me since we moved 4 times before I graduated from High School.
I don't remember the first house I lived in. I thought I had a brief memory of it, but I think I was on a trike and I'm pretty sure that I was too young to reach the pedals on those ginormous old fashioned tricycles before we moved.
The first house I do remember, it the one in Godfrey, Illinois. I remember lots of things about that house. It was a small ranch house at the bottom of a hill. I got chased by a dog running down that hill. He knocked me down and stepped on my forehead, It bled like crazy. My mom thought I had cut my arm as if I was some 4 year old suicidal goth queen. . My sister was yelling at me to run across the hill instead of down and since I chose not to listen to her and got stepped on by the dog, I, blame her for not forcing me to do what she said and therefore scarring me for life. I think that dog's name was Nails.
After kindergarten, we moved to St. Louis so my dad could become the director of Evangelical Children's Home. We lived in a tri-level with the smallest bedrooms I have ever seen. My brother's room was smaller than the sleeping area in a semi truck. I think we had to use a lever of some kind to pry him out every morning. My sister and I shared the "bigger" bed room that had enough space for a bunk bed and twelve thousand stuffed animal, all of which slept in my bed every night. I finished first grade and maybe some of second there. Dad's master plan for the tiny bedroom house to have it be used as a group home for very tiny troubled children, but the neighborhood balked at having even tiny troubled kids in their midst. So, somehow, that meant we had to move again!
The next house was a lot more interesting and since this is a long post (for me), I will leave you hanging and publish more tomorrow.
.
Friday, August 23, 2013
It is really hard to think of interesting topics for this blog.
Every time I think I have something interesting to say, I realize that I don't have much more than a sound bite. Or I realize that someone else has said the same thing only a million times better. Byron Katie ( yes that is her name) wrote in her book Loving What Is, "There are no new thoughts". I kinda think that's true. There are no new thoughts, just more interesting ways to say them.
So today I am writing random thought. It is appropriate because I am at such a crossroads in my life and it seems as if everyday brings some new random desire or idea. So here goes:
This is not free association. True free association is thinking of a word, and then saying whatever word pops out next even if it makes no sense Somewhere in your brain there is a neural connection. I may have this wrong, but I think Freud said being able to free associate is a sign of mental health.
I am trying to eat better. I can be a true sweets junkie if I let myself. It has not been unusual to have two six packs of Oreos, a half a bag of bubble gum supposedly for my gum ball machine, and five pieces of chocolate while waiting for a client at my office. I eat pretty healthy at home and I am not a fan of fast food, but show me a bag of Jelly Bellys and I am like a dog in a meat market. So I have forbidden myself from eating in my office and so far so good. One week down, the rest of my life to go.
I have been missing my kid since he left for college two weeks ago. There are both pros and cons to being an empty nester. It is a heck of a lot quieter. (Pro) There is less laundry (Pro). There is less of a mess in the kitchen (pro), but there is no one to help with the dishes (Con) The dog is sleeping in our bed (serious con). There is less of certain types of food around; no soda, chips, certain cereals (Pro and con!) Actually, when I think about it, it is all a con 'cause I just miss having him around, but I think eventually it will all be okay.
I am going to be volunteering at a hospice. I think this will eventually be significant fodder for the blog. Stay tuned. ( I used the word eventually twice in a row. I need to expand my vocabulary).
Just had a sneezing attack. I sneeze like my father. Serious explosions followed by ranting and cursing about how much I hate sneezing. However, he has me on the volume. Dad's sneezes can be recorded on the Richter scale and once I think he even knocked his armchair backward onto the floor! Or maybe that happen when he was yelling at Pat Robertson on the tv.. Whatever it was, I am sure it was due to over exertion and stress on the chair.
I have a client who s using "Potato" as his curse word of choice. However, it has challenges. It is hard to say " I can't get this potatoing thing to work". I like "Leaping lemurs" as a curse. Instead of yelling a true expletive when I'm mad, I want to train myself to yell "Leaping Lemurs" and hope it takes off as a cool new trend. Although I am not cool enough to start a trend...
Okay, that is enough random stuff. Maybe next time I will get serious again Or not.
.
Every time I think I have something interesting to say, I realize that I don't have much more than a sound bite. Or I realize that someone else has said the same thing only a million times better. Byron Katie ( yes that is her name) wrote in her book Loving What Is, "There are no new thoughts". I kinda think that's true. There are no new thoughts, just more interesting ways to say them.
So today I am writing random thought. It is appropriate because I am at such a crossroads in my life and it seems as if everyday brings some new random desire or idea. So here goes:
This is not free association. True free association is thinking of a word, and then saying whatever word pops out next even if it makes no sense Somewhere in your brain there is a neural connection. I may have this wrong, but I think Freud said being able to free associate is a sign of mental health.
I am trying to eat better. I can be a true sweets junkie if I let myself. It has not been unusual to have two six packs of Oreos, a half a bag of bubble gum supposedly for my gum ball machine, and five pieces of chocolate while waiting for a client at my office. I eat pretty healthy at home and I am not a fan of fast food, but show me a bag of Jelly Bellys and I am like a dog in a meat market. So I have forbidden myself from eating in my office and so far so good. One week down, the rest of my life to go.
I have been missing my kid since he left for college two weeks ago. There are both pros and cons to being an empty nester. It is a heck of a lot quieter. (Pro) There is less laundry (Pro). There is less of a mess in the kitchen (pro), but there is no one to help with the dishes (Con) The dog is sleeping in our bed (serious con). There is less of certain types of food around; no soda, chips, certain cereals (Pro and con!) Actually, when I think about it, it is all a con 'cause I just miss having him around, but I think eventually it will all be okay.
I am going to be volunteering at a hospice. I think this will eventually be significant fodder for the blog. Stay tuned. ( I used the word eventually twice in a row. I need to expand my vocabulary).
Just had a sneezing attack. I sneeze like my father. Serious explosions followed by ranting and cursing about how much I hate sneezing. However, he has me on the volume. Dad's sneezes can be recorded on the Richter scale and once I think he even knocked his armchair backward onto the floor! Or maybe that happen when he was yelling at Pat Robertson on the tv.. Whatever it was, I am sure it was due to over exertion and stress on the chair.
I have a client who s using "Potato" as his curse word of choice. However, it has challenges. It is hard to say " I can't get this potatoing thing to work". I like "Leaping lemurs" as a curse. Instead of yelling a true expletive when I'm mad, I want to train myself to yell "Leaping Lemurs" and hope it takes off as a cool new trend. Although I am not cool enough to start a trend...
Okay, that is enough random stuff. Maybe next time I will get serious again Or not.
.
Friday, August 9, 2013
new chapter
Some things defy emotional preparation. You can read up on expected event and buy the necessary accouterments. You can talk with others regarding their experiences, but until you have been there, you don't really know how your body and psyche will respond.
It always makes me puzzled when people say they could never deal with MS. They could never give themselves a shot or continue to function at work...But I know that they would do what they had to do.
People frequently say "I would never let my kid do that" about something they see random parents do. But I know that they would be a lot more flexible if they wore those same shoe.
I know there is a culture of people who think they could take down a rouge, crazed gunman if they were only armed themselves, but I know they would surprise themselves with their reactions to the physiological stress.
So, all this to say that I don't think there is any way to know how I will respond when I drop off my son at college tomorrow. Just as I couldn't know what it would be like to hold his tiny little infant self for the first time, or to bring him home the first time, or to take him to preschool the first time. To hear him say "I love you" the first time or ride a bike or get hurt or have a croup attack in the middle of the night...any of the million firsts that you experience as a parent.
So I will have to let you know how I experience the moment my son walks out of this house as a permanent resident and walks into his own new chapter as an adult. Sure his room will stay the same (only neater and with less profanity emanating from it while he interact with computer buddies). And even though it has morphed through the years from a nursery to a playroom to a cluttered teenage mess, the constant as always been my sweet, loud, sloppy, insightful, smart, smart-alacky, wonderful kid.
I will let you know what it is like to walk back into an infinitely quieter, neater, less smelly house. I will let you know how it feels to not buy chips and Cheerios at the grocery store or to cook without worrying if he will eat something unusual. It sounds freeing and relaxing, but I think it will be sad and lonely..
.but I am looking forward to stealing his computer chair!
It always makes me puzzled when people say they could never deal with MS. They could never give themselves a shot or continue to function at work...But I know that they would do what they had to do.
People frequently say "I would never let my kid do that" about something they see random parents do. But I know that they would be a lot more flexible if they wore those same shoe.
I know there is a culture of people who think they could take down a rouge, crazed gunman if they were only armed themselves, but I know they would surprise themselves with their reactions to the physiological stress.
So, all this to say that I don't think there is any way to know how I will respond when I drop off my son at college tomorrow. Just as I couldn't know what it would be like to hold his tiny little infant self for the first time, or to bring him home the first time, or to take him to preschool the first time. To hear him say "I love you" the first time or ride a bike or get hurt or have a croup attack in the middle of the night...any of the million firsts that you experience as a parent.
So I will have to let you know how I experience the moment my son walks out of this house as a permanent resident and walks into his own new chapter as an adult. Sure his room will stay the same (only neater and with less profanity emanating from it while he interact with computer buddies). And even though it has morphed through the years from a nursery to a playroom to a cluttered teenage mess, the constant as always been my sweet, loud, sloppy, insightful, smart, smart-alacky, wonderful kid.
I will let you know what it is like to walk back into an infinitely quieter, neater, less smelly house. I will let you know how it feels to not buy chips and Cheerios at the grocery store or to cook without worrying if he will eat something unusual. It sounds freeing and relaxing, but I think it will be sad and lonely..
.but I am looking forward to stealing his computer chair!
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Narratves
When does your narrative begin?
Your narrative is your linear story of your life. It doesn't necessarily coincide with your first memory. I have a very early first memory. When I was two years old the tip of my finger was sliced off when it was slammed in a door. I was playing hide and seek with my sister, and I found her in th bathroom. Unfortunately, she had taken a break from the game and she didn't take kindly to being spied on in the bathroom! I have memory of seeing my sister in the bathroom and I have memory of a very bright light in the doctor's office. These memories are static snapshots in my head and not sequential stories. They are pretty powerful, but they are not part of my narrative. In order to be part of my narrative, they must be part of a larger whole. They must have a place in a time line and they must have a sense of myself as the creator of my own story.
My narrative does not begin until much later. Despite these early memories, my sense of self existing in linear time and space doesn't really begin until fifth-grade .I remember lots of things before then, but they are somewhat disconnected from each other and they don't have a linear time line. But in the fifth grade I begin to have a sense of myself as a cocreator of my life.
Up until then, I did not have an internal locus of control. That is, I still felt as if life jut happened and I was along for the ride. In fifth grade, I began to have an internal sense of being somewhat in control of my destiny. Of course, as an 11 year old, I was curtailed from being in complete control by certain legalities and the whims of my parent. However, I was starting to understand that I had my own responses to situations. I was aware that circumstances may have been beyond my control, but that I could choose my behaviors in response.
I am sure that my narrative really began when my family moved to a new community. It was not the first time I moved to a new home, but it was the first time I really understood what it meant to leave friends and familiar places. It was the beginning of a new chapter of my life and it was the first time I felt that I was in charge of my destiny.
New chapters usually happen with be life developments or through catastrophic events. Starting high school or college are normal life developments. Being diagnosed with a chronic illness would be a good example of a catastrophe. New chapters propel you into self-reflection and self-discovery if you let them. They can be an opportunity for reinvention or they can lead to stagnation or despair.
High School seems to be a time when early narratives are really in high gear. Maybe that's why those friendships are so intense an why those four years take forever. Those experiences are all firsts and the first time for everything seems more intense and more important.
That's why new chapters in life are opportunities for discovery and reflection. They are the first time for something; a new experience. My current new chapter will start on August 10 when I drop my kid off at college for the first time and I will officially be an empty-nester.
This chapter will probably have as much impact as any that has come before, so I think I will continue this blog in upcoming posts so stay tuned!
Your narrative is your linear story of your life. It doesn't necessarily coincide with your first memory. I have a very early first memory. When I was two years old the tip of my finger was sliced off when it was slammed in a door. I was playing hide and seek with my sister, and I found her in th bathroom. Unfortunately, she had taken a break from the game and she didn't take kindly to being spied on in the bathroom! I have memory of seeing my sister in the bathroom and I have memory of a very bright light in the doctor's office. These memories are static snapshots in my head and not sequential stories. They are pretty powerful, but they are not part of my narrative. In order to be part of my narrative, they must be part of a larger whole. They must have a place in a time line and they must have a sense of myself as the creator of my own story.
My narrative does not begin until much later. Despite these early memories, my sense of self existing in linear time and space doesn't really begin until fifth-grade .I remember lots of things before then, but they are somewhat disconnected from each other and they don't have a linear time line. But in the fifth grade I begin to have a sense of myself as a cocreator of my life.
Up until then, I did not have an internal locus of control. That is, I still felt as if life jut happened and I was along for the ride. In fifth grade, I began to have an internal sense of being somewhat in control of my destiny. Of course, as an 11 year old, I was curtailed from being in complete control by certain legalities and the whims of my parent. However, I was starting to understand that I had my own responses to situations. I was aware that circumstances may have been beyond my control, but that I could choose my behaviors in response.
I am sure that my narrative really began when my family moved to a new community. It was not the first time I moved to a new home, but it was the first time I really understood what it meant to leave friends and familiar places. It was the beginning of a new chapter of my life and it was the first time I felt that I was in charge of my destiny.
New chapters usually happen with be life developments or through catastrophic events. Starting high school or college are normal life developments. Being diagnosed with a chronic illness would be a good example of a catastrophe. New chapters propel you into self-reflection and self-discovery if you let them. They can be an opportunity for reinvention or they can lead to stagnation or despair.
High School seems to be a time when early narratives are really in high gear. Maybe that's why those friendships are so intense an why those four years take forever. Those experiences are all firsts and the first time for everything seems more intense and more important.
That's why new chapters in life are opportunities for discovery and reflection. They are the first time for something; a new experience. My current new chapter will start on August 10 when I drop my kid off at college for the first time and I will officially be an empty-nester.
This chapter will probably have as much impact as any that has come before, so I think I will continue this blog in upcoming posts so stay tuned!
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Nothing is ever easy.
That has been my motto for awhile now. With MS even a small thing like buckling my seat belt or pouring soda into a glass can take on proportions similar to climbing Mount Everest. However, even without MS, I still think nothing important is easy, and if it is, you are probably doing it wrong or leaving something out. Easy is different than simple. Reciting 2 +2=4 is simple. Understanding what 2+2=4, takes some thought.
I have also decided that I am not really very nice. Nice is easy. Even the worst delinquents and sociopaths can be taught to be Nice. It is simple to have a kneejerk nice response such as please and thank you. It is simple to be nice by writing a check to charity or give a homeless person a dollar.
But it takes effort to be kind. I try to be kind and hope I am considered a kind person.
Sometimes kindness requires you to not be nice. People, especially women, are taught to be nice from childhood, but being kind is much more difficult to instill.
There are lots of rules to being nice and lots of judgments about nice behavior. Sharing means you are nice. Sitting quietly in your chair is nice. Waiting till everyone is served before you eat is nice. Nice is simple and clean and self focused. It asks for approval. "Did I do a nice job?" It is observable. "Does this look nice on me?" It is teachable and can be demanded. "Play nicely. Share and don't run in the house." Those are nice . Nice would like a payback. "If I am nice to you, you should be nice to me."
Kind is much more difficult. It is internal and intrinsic and not always obvious. Kind demands empathy. It requires restraint. It is spontaneous. It is taught, not through example alone, but through experiencing. Kindness creates connection that lasts longer than it takes to say thank you because it is reciprocal. It requires presence of mind and heart by giver which the receiver experiences at a much deeper level.
A few years back, Oprah used passing out free coffee on the street as her random act of kindness. This is not kindness, It is a nice gesture. It wasn't focused on others, really, as it had an ulterior motive for Oprah and the network. Kindness does not have a desire for recognition or payback. It is not resentful if the is no reward.
I am not saying being nice is not important. It is what keeps society from collapsing! I am saying that kindness is much more basic and necessary for human existence.
So I hope that I am kind and that when things are simple, I recognize that life requires effort in order to be something more than existing. Life requires connection to other through more than being nice.
I hope that I am kind and see beyond the outward needs of society. I hope I see what others need in their hearts. I hope I am able to, not just touch for a moment, but connect for a lifetime.
That has been my motto for awhile now. With MS even a small thing like buckling my seat belt or pouring soda into a glass can take on proportions similar to climbing Mount Everest. However, even without MS, I still think nothing important is easy, and if it is, you are probably doing it wrong or leaving something out. Easy is different than simple. Reciting 2 +2=4 is simple. Understanding what 2+2=4, takes some thought.
I have also decided that I am not really very nice. Nice is easy. Even the worst delinquents and sociopaths can be taught to be Nice. It is simple to have a kneejerk nice response such as please and thank you. It is simple to be nice by writing a check to charity or give a homeless person a dollar.
But it takes effort to be kind. I try to be kind and hope I am considered a kind person.
Sometimes kindness requires you to not be nice. People, especially women, are taught to be nice from childhood, but being kind is much more difficult to instill.
There are lots of rules to being nice and lots of judgments about nice behavior. Sharing means you are nice. Sitting quietly in your chair is nice. Waiting till everyone is served before you eat is nice. Nice is simple and clean and self focused. It asks for approval. "Did I do a nice job?" It is observable. "Does this look nice on me?" It is teachable and can be demanded. "Play nicely. Share and don't run in the house." Those are nice . Nice would like a payback. "If I am nice to you, you should be nice to me."
Kind is much more difficult. It is internal and intrinsic and not always obvious. Kind demands empathy. It requires restraint. It is spontaneous. It is taught, not through example alone, but through experiencing. Kindness creates connection that lasts longer than it takes to say thank you because it is reciprocal. It requires presence of mind and heart by giver which the receiver experiences at a much deeper level.
A few years back, Oprah used passing out free coffee on the street as her random act of kindness. This is not kindness, It is a nice gesture. It wasn't focused on others, really, as it had an ulterior motive for Oprah and the network. Kindness does not have a desire for recognition or payback. It is not resentful if the is no reward.
I am not saying being nice is not important. It is what keeps society from collapsing! I am saying that kindness is much more basic and necessary for human existence.
So I hope that I am kind and that when things are simple, I recognize that life requires effort in order to be something more than existing. Life requires connection to other through more than being nice.
I hope that I am kind and see beyond the outward needs of society. I hope I see what others need in their hearts. I hope I am able to, not just touch for a moment, but connect for a lifetime.
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