Today a gentleman stood up and told two stories. To me, these stories are the crystallization of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Whether the people in the second story were Christian or not, I do not know, but they certainly acted as if they were the very definition.
In the first story, a farmer, we'll call him Dale, noticed an issue with his irrigation. The water began to wane in one area. So he checked it out and found that a neighbor, a fellow crop farmer, had dammed up the irrigation ditch and was usurping the water. So Dale took out a shovel and went with his boys to the area of the blockage and began to dig it out, so the water would return to his land. The man who had created the dam was so angry he actually took out an axe and went after Dale, who used his shovel to staunchly defend his right to the water. The altercation ended with incredibly bad feelings. The man who had dammed the water began to openly hate Dale's family. It came time to harvest. And Dale loaded up his kids in the truck to go to work harvesting his lands. But as he drove along, he took an unexpected turn into the other neighbor's property. The children thought he had lost his mind. But he explained that he had heard that the man was sick, too sick to harvest his own fruit, and he knew it had to be done immediately. So the man and his children, before even harvesting a single bit from their own farm, went and worked one full day for this man and placed the produce carefully at the back porch. One of the children remembered keeping one eye on their work, and one eye on the back door in case he came out with the axe again. The man was so grateful at the end of it all that he told Dale how sorry he was and at Dale's funeral years later he said how much of an example Dale had been and that he had become his best friend.
The second story was about a man who had a bad year of auto accidents, and to make matters worse, they kept happening in other people's cars. He knew he had a jack and a spare, etc. in his own car, but in other people's cars you are the mercy of their idea of preparedness and they seemed to always be lacking. So this particular year that he kept having issues he noticed that no one in America stops to help a fellow traveler in trouble anymore. Whether it's because we are all wary about safety or in too big of a hurry, whatever the reason, the only people that kept coming to his aid were immigrant workers. One time he was in a friend's Jeep and got a flat but didn't have the tools, only a spare. And again, no one would stop. So he put out a sign, NEED JACK, WILL PAY $$. Shortly after, a group of immigrant workers from Mexico stopped to help. It was a family. The father got out and came over with his English speaking daughter to help translate. They were here in America to pick produce for two weeks before returning home. So they got out their jack but the Jeep was too high and so they actually found some wood and cut it down to act as a brace for the jack. Now I personally have never heard of this but I guess he had a folding tire iron and the thing broke. The head came clean off. But the man explained to his wife in Spanish what he needed and sent her away in the van and she returned with a different iron and the men went back to work. It must have been something of a feat because to hear the way the speaker told it the men were muddy sweaty, smelly, messes by the end of it all. But the family had a jug of water and so the men were able to clean themselves up after and refresh themselves. The traveler tried to give this family money but the man wouldn't take it. So he went over to the mother and snuck a 20 dollar bill to her as quietly as he could. As he was getting back into his Jeep the daughter asked if the man had eaten yet. He said no, and was in fact starving after all of this time and effort. The girl handed out the window a tamale wrapped up in tin foil. The traveler took it back to his friend's Jeep and opened it up, and there inside with the tamale was the 20 dollars. He glanced back at the van but the father just looked at him and shook his head. The traveler tried one more time to give it to him, because this man had not only stopped to helped him but had surely lost a day's wages to do so and then ended up having to spent his own money on a new jack. The man just said, with a lot of effort, "Today...you. Tomorrow...me."
There I go again, I'm totally crying. I love this story. These people were probably as poor as people can possibly get and yet they gave their time, their money, their hard work, their food and their love to a total stranger. Because they were humble and good. I believe in God. I believe that if these people keep going around being amazing like this, then yes...today that traveler but tomorrow...them. I learned from a kind Bishop of mine while I was a broke single mom that if I gave, I would actually receive and he was absolutely correct. Jesus knew what he was talking about, you will receive. This is the gospel and it works. Amen.
Amen? Ok sure why not...Amen.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Judging Amy.
I am a judgmental person. Rather, I have become one. I have travelled so far in the polar opposite direction from the liberal way I was raised that I may in fact circle around a full 360 and find myself back in some free love, no rules, flexible morality kind of space, judging no one. I'm not sure, where I'm going is uncharted.
I was raised not to judge anyone. Which is good. I was raised that there was no right or wrong. Which is bad. I was also taught there was no good or bad which is also bad. According to my upbringing, using those kinds of words would be "labeling" and is a part of judging which is only for stupid and closed-minded people. Now, these free-thinking concepts are only effective things to tell yourself and others if what you are seeking is license to do whatever you want no matter what. Say, for example, you want to go out and sleep with a whole bunch of people. You do not want to suffer the consequences of this action, i.e. people thinking you are a horrible mother and a slut. Or even YOU thinking you are a horrible mother or a slut. You will then need to tell yourself that by sleeping with a whole bunch of people you were not doing anything "bad" or "wrong", you were in fact "learning about your sexuality" because human reproduction is healthy and good and it wasn't wrong of you, it was just a part of your journey and was essential to your learning process. Never mind all of the people that were hurt or how many families were destroyed as a consequence of these actions because if people think that what you are doing is bad, they are being "judgmental" and need to find your "positive intent".
Because I never judged people, especially those people in my own family, I allowed them to treat me horribly. I was told that I could control my reactions to everyone and everything around me. If someone acted horribly to me, instead of calling them out to change their behavior, I just needed to look at their "positive intent" and possibly also, go to my "great good place". Everyone's actions had a positive intent, we just had to look hard enough. Sometimes I had to look really, really hard. This meant I was asked to look at things one might realistically label as sad or bad and I was to tell myself they were not bad or sad but actually good and acceptable instead. If someone like my older sister took my head and slammed it into the bathtub tile surround for taking a bath when she wanted to, I only simply need go to my great good place in order to see her positive intent and I would no longer be angry and I would find love for her. I would close my eyes and soon I could imagine that her positive intent was to toughen up my head. Armed with this knowledge I no longer wanted my sister to die slowly at my own hand, but to keep on showing me the mysteries of her many complex actions. So now, because everyone in our family, nay the world, had a positive intent and no one was ever wrong or bad, no one ever need suffer any consequences or punishment for their actions. In our household especially, never at any time, no matter how bad the offense might possibly have been, was anyone actually ever punished. No one even brought up in casual conversation the amount of times I had my butt handed to me with a bow on it by my big sister. I guess her positive intent was for me to really become familiar with where my pain threshold is. If you're wondering, it's somewhere around my External Occipital Protuberance.
In regards to relationships it should come as no surprise to read that I did not employ any powers of perception whatsoever in choosing a mate. I met someone, I saw a whole handfull of positive intent in everything they did and so I loved them dearly for handing me my hindquarters. Wasn't that thoughtful of them? I was wondering where my hindquarters had gone. Oh? It's right there? Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you. Don't leave me.
Somewhere in the middle of a Christmas party in 2005 I came to my senses. Bio dad had left me the year before. He left me pregnant with no explanation. He had gone from, "I love you more than you will ever know and I want to be with the one I love forever" to "we only casually dated" to "I'm suing you for getting pregnant". He could only have handled the situation worse if he had shot the lot of us. After a year of hell for me and and a three day coma for him (long story) he came to his senses and wanted to apologize for how he handled things. And he wanted to re-handle those things. My things. After a year in the church and my full temple worthiness re-instated, it just wasn't happening. But we were maintaining a "friendship". So here is where we find ourselves and it's December. And he's going to a Christmas party and I've just been invited to the same one and isn't that a coinkiedink. And so I get spiffied up in a YSL knockoff black velvet suit, straighten my hair and show up. And it was like I walked into a Rock of Love audition. The girls...the girls. But I musn't judge, I tell myself. But are you serious, ladies? The lip liner...and the eyebrows... And then he shows up. And these girls squeal his name like it's 7th grade, and then tip toe trot themselves over to the man for optimal chest bounce-age and then rub their Spalding's up against his Lucky Brand button down. And it clicks for me. He is that guy. He is probably hiding a roll of fifty ones in his back pocket encircled with a red rubber band. He is "hangs with strippers" guy. If he had an indian name it would probably be "Hangs with Strippers". And I flash back in my head. Yep, all the signs were there. How did I miss them? Sure, he tried to be something he wasn't for my benefit. Sure he dressed differently for me and acted differently for me. But there is no way for someone to really hide their whole true self. Unless they're a serial killer. I had signs and red flags and towards the end there was even a huge bat signal or two. But now...now I was getting a hand typed, double spaced personalized letter reading, "Dear Amelia, I like slutty, ugly, tarty girls with big boobs who drink to excess and do things with guys they barely know." It was being tapped out on my head in Morse Code. "- - - . . . - - . . - - . . .- - . . .- . - . -. . -- ...-.......-- ..-" *
*He's that guy.
I had stepped over the line and I was now in judgmental country.
My first thought was, "You are that guy??" My second was, "How did you ever find ME attractive EVER if what you wanted all along is what she's got going on over there and up there and BACK THERE?!?" And my third one was, "I'm outtie." I left that party after having judged those girls and having judged my ex and having judged the situation and you know what? It felt great. And I've been doing it ever since. People sometimes ask me if having come from the kind of past I come from makes it easy to not judge people for their actions and I have to say the answer is no. You know those bitter, tight lipped angry women? You know how they all have a secret past and then become unmoving and rigid? It starts like this. I make judgment calls all day every day and you know what? I can't stop. The more I strive to live my life with standards the easier it is to see when people don't have any. And the easier it is to judge whether or not I want to have anything to do with those people. And I usually choose not to. Because they hurt you, those people. And it's safer to make the judgment call and protect yourself and your kids right from the git go. It's OK to judge what's bad and wrong. Sometimes people can be bad and wrong. Even if they may have a super-duper really great good positive intent.
"By their fruits you shall know them." Matthew 7:16.
I was raised not to judge anyone. Which is good. I was raised that there was no right or wrong. Which is bad. I was also taught there was no good or bad which is also bad. According to my upbringing, using those kinds of words would be "labeling" and is a part of judging which is only for stupid and closed-minded people. Now, these free-thinking concepts are only effective things to tell yourself and others if what you are seeking is license to do whatever you want no matter what. Say, for example, you want to go out and sleep with a whole bunch of people. You do not want to suffer the consequences of this action, i.e. people thinking you are a horrible mother and a slut. Or even YOU thinking you are a horrible mother or a slut. You will then need to tell yourself that by sleeping with a whole bunch of people you were not doing anything "bad" or "wrong", you were in fact "learning about your sexuality" because human reproduction is healthy and good and it wasn't wrong of you, it was just a part of your journey and was essential to your learning process. Never mind all of the people that were hurt or how many families were destroyed as a consequence of these actions because if people think that what you are doing is bad, they are being "judgmental" and need to find your "positive intent".
Because I never judged people, especially those people in my own family, I allowed them to treat me horribly. I was told that I could control my reactions to everyone and everything around me. If someone acted horribly to me, instead of calling them out to change their behavior, I just needed to look at their "positive intent" and possibly also, go to my "great good place". Everyone's actions had a positive intent, we just had to look hard enough. Sometimes I had to look really, really hard. This meant I was asked to look at things one might realistically label as sad or bad and I was to tell myself they were not bad or sad but actually good and acceptable instead. If someone like my older sister took my head and slammed it into the bathtub tile surround for taking a bath when she wanted to, I only simply need go to my great good place in order to see her positive intent and I would no longer be angry and I would find love for her. I would close my eyes and soon I could imagine that her positive intent was to toughen up my head. Armed with this knowledge I no longer wanted my sister to die slowly at my own hand, but to keep on showing me the mysteries of her many complex actions. So now, because everyone in our family, nay the world, had a positive intent and no one was ever wrong or bad, no one ever need suffer any consequences or punishment for their actions. In our household especially, never at any time, no matter how bad the offense might possibly have been, was anyone actually ever punished. No one even brought up in casual conversation the amount of times I had my butt handed to me with a bow on it by my big sister. I guess her positive intent was for me to really become familiar with where my pain threshold is. If you're wondering, it's somewhere around my External Occipital Protuberance.
In regards to relationships it should come as no surprise to read that I did not employ any powers of perception whatsoever in choosing a mate. I met someone, I saw a whole handfull of positive intent in everything they did and so I loved them dearly for handing me my hindquarters. Wasn't that thoughtful of them? I was wondering where my hindquarters had gone. Oh? It's right there? Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you. Don't leave me.
Somewhere in the middle of a Christmas party in 2005 I came to my senses. Bio dad had left me the year before. He left me pregnant with no explanation. He had gone from, "I love you more than you will ever know and I want to be with the one I love forever" to "we only casually dated" to "I'm suing you for getting pregnant". He could only have handled the situation worse if he had shot the lot of us. After a year of hell for me and and a three day coma for him (long story) he came to his senses and wanted to apologize for how he handled things. And he wanted to re-handle those things. My things. After a year in the church and my full temple worthiness re-instated, it just wasn't happening. But we were maintaining a "friendship". So here is where we find ourselves and it's December. And he's going to a Christmas party and I've just been invited to the same one and isn't that a coinkiedink. And so I get spiffied up in a YSL knockoff black velvet suit, straighten my hair and show up. And it was like I walked into a Rock of Love audition. The girls...the girls. But I musn't judge, I tell myself. But are you serious, ladies? The lip liner...and the eyebrows... And then he shows up. And these girls squeal his name like it's 7th grade, and then tip toe trot themselves over to the man for optimal chest bounce-age and then rub their Spalding's up against his Lucky Brand button down. And it clicks for me. He is that guy. He is probably hiding a roll of fifty ones in his back pocket encircled with a red rubber band. He is "hangs with strippers" guy. If he had an indian name it would probably be "Hangs with Strippers". And I flash back in my head. Yep, all the signs were there. How did I miss them? Sure, he tried to be something he wasn't for my benefit. Sure he dressed differently for me and acted differently for me. But there is no way for someone to really hide their whole true self. Unless they're a serial killer. I had signs and red flags and towards the end there was even a huge bat signal or two. But now...now I was getting a hand typed, double spaced personalized letter reading, "Dear Amelia, I like slutty, ugly, tarty girls with big boobs who drink to excess and do things with guys they barely know." It was being tapped out on my head in Morse Code. "- - - . . . - - . . - - . . .- - . . .- . - . -. . -- ...-.......-- ..-" *
*He's that guy.
I had stepped over the line and I was now in judgmental country.
My first thought was, "You are that guy??" My second was, "How did you ever find ME attractive EVER if what you wanted all along is what she's got going on over there and up there and BACK THERE?!?" And my third one was, "I'm outtie." I left that party after having judged those girls and having judged my ex and having judged the situation and you know what? It felt great. And I've been doing it ever since. People sometimes ask me if having come from the kind of past I come from makes it easy to not judge people for their actions and I have to say the answer is no. You know those bitter, tight lipped angry women? You know how they all have a secret past and then become unmoving and rigid? It starts like this. I make judgment calls all day every day and you know what? I can't stop. The more I strive to live my life with standards the easier it is to see when people don't have any. And the easier it is to judge whether or not I want to have anything to do with those people. And I usually choose not to. Because they hurt you, those people. And it's safer to make the judgment call and protect yourself and your kids right from the git go. It's OK to judge what's bad and wrong. Sometimes people can be bad and wrong. Even if they may have a super-duper really great good positive intent.
"By their fruits you shall know them." Matthew 7:16.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
I Give.
As in "up". I give up. We put the "For Sale by Owner" sign in the front lawn so the house is officially up for sale. It's a lovely 5 bedroom 3 bath fixer-upper in the tony Edgemont area of Provo. Many people are asking many questions so I figured a blog post was in order. Think of this as a, "Wait, the Merritt's are selling their house? FAQ"
1. Where are the Merritt's moving off to?
We have no idea where we are going. I have found a great house in Orem that I love more than anything but I know what the odds are that we will be able to sell this house and move into it. We are going to take a bath on this house. So that means we will have to make do for a few years while we dig out of a huge financial hole. Once we do and save some money for a down payment we will probably find a house. This is what I am calling my Reasonable Expectations Scenario. I do have faith that God will be able to work a miracle I can not foresee and so, who knows what will happen. I am keeping the faith that a miracle can occur but I am also keeping my expectations at a realistic level. I'm fasting and praying but I'm also staying rational.
2. Do The Merritt's want to stay in the 4th Ward boundaries?
We have loved being in this ward and this area. We'd love to stay. If we were to fall in love with a house that was perfect in every way and would still allow us to stay in the area...MIRACLE. At this point I'd settle for a darling little house in Utah County that we love and is finished prettily and we can afford and can possibly rent to own. This of course is IF by some miracle we are able to sell our house for what we owe so we don't have to move into an apartment for a few years. It really boils down to the house. You see, we bought this big house with the expectation that I would be well. More like, the assumption. We were going to have more kids. I was going to fix up this house. That was the plan. Now neither is feasible. I may get sicker as many people with Hashi's do. We need at least a 4 bedroom house with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and laundry on the main level and next to no yard work because my disease can sometimes spawn other worse diseases, things like:
Vitiligo — a disease that destroys the cells that give your skin its color
Rheumatoid arthritis — a disease that affects the lining of the joints throughout the body
Addison’s disease — a disease that affects the adrenal glands, which make hormones that help your body respond to stress and regulate your blood pressure and water and salt balance
Type 1 diabetes — a disease that causes blood sugar levels to be too high
Graves’ disease — a disease that causes the thyroid to make too much thyroid hormone
Pernicious anemia — a disease that keeps your body from absorbing vitamin B12 and making enough healthy red blood cells
Lupus — a disease that can damage many parts of the body, such as the joints, skin, blood vessels, and other organs.
So if it ever gets to that point, or heaven forbid morphs into Hashimotos Encephalopathy or even Lymphoma of the Thyroid, then I am not going to be dragging myself up flights of stairs all day. Bye-bye split level. I never liked you anyways.
3 Why are The Merritt's moving now...why can't The Merritt's wait until the market swings around? (Or in the sentiments of some acquaintances and my father the coach, why can't The Merritt's just keep working on it one project at a time. Take it in bite sized chunks...)
Get bent. Or go get sick and then see how well you like being told to "just do" something. Just "take my time and do one little project every month" until it's done? Just go stick your head in the toilet you dirty "just-er". Seriously, this makes me insane. So I'm to be a wife and mother and work 18 hour days and serve the church and God and be a good friend and neighbor and do my Visiting Teaching and see the doctors and pay my medical bills and then, on my RARE days off, I'm to tile a bathroom when I have no idea how to tile a bathroom? When do I get to spend time dealing with:
Fatigue
Weight gain
Pale, puffy face
Feeling cold
Intolerance to hot and cold temperatures
Joint and muscle pain
Constipation
Dry, thinning hair
Heavy menstrual flow or irregular periods
Depression
A slowed heart rate
Problems getting pregnant
I guess I am "just" to take all of the above in bite sized chunks, too. Oh, yeah, I can't. I don't control my disease.
We bought a house. And I worked really hard on it. And now I have to walk away from it. And I don't know where we are going and I don't know how this will turn out. I have a disease. I have an incurable disease. And I might not "look sick" to you and you may never notice it but the people I live with do. And the people I work with do and they thankfully keep hiring me. And I manage to plug along in my calling. But Brett and the kids take to finishing my sentences for me and I will probably not ever have another child of my own. And it's by the grace of God and my own stubborn Germanness that I am able to finish 6 days of 12+ hours of shooting without falling apart let alone everything else. It's too much. And I know it and my family knows it and my friends know it and now all of you know it and I believe that God knows it, too. And I believe he will take care of me. Because he doesn't want me to come home to a house that makes me cry before I even get out of my car, just thinking about what an albatross it is.
So if you know how to drywall and want a house in Edgemont...leave your name and number. You are the answer to my prayers.
1. Where are the Merritt's moving off to?
We have no idea where we are going. I have found a great house in Orem that I love more than anything but I know what the odds are that we will be able to sell this house and move into it. We are going to take a bath on this house. So that means we will have to make do for a few years while we dig out of a huge financial hole. Once we do and save some money for a down payment we will probably find a house. This is what I am calling my Reasonable Expectations Scenario. I do have faith that God will be able to work a miracle I can not foresee and so, who knows what will happen. I am keeping the faith that a miracle can occur but I am also keeping my expectations at a realistic level. I'm fasting and praying but I'm also staying rational.
2. Do The Merritt's want to stay in the 4th Ward boundaries?
We have loved being in this ward and this area. We'd love to stay. If we were to fall in love with a house that was perfect in every way and would still allow us to stay in the area...MIRACLE. At this point I'd settle for a darling little house in Utah County that we love and is finished prettily and we can afford and can possibly rent to own. This of course is IF by some miracle we are able to sell our house for what we owe so we don't have to move into an apartment for a few years. It really boils down to the house. You see, we bought this big house with the expectation that I would be well. More like, the assumption. We were going to have more kids. I was going to fix up this house. That was the plan. Now neither is feasible. I may get sicker as many people with Hashi's do. We need at least a 4 bedroom house with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and laundry on the main level and next to no yard work because my disease can sometimes spawn other worse diseases, things like:
Vitiligo — a disease that destroys the cells that give your skin its color
Rheumatoid arthritis — a disease that affects the lining of the joints throughout the body
Addison’s disease — a disease that affects the adrenal glands, which make hormones that help your body respond to stress and regulate your blood pressure and water and salt balance
Type 1 diabetes — a disease that causes blood sugar levels to be too high
Graves’ disease — a disease that causes the thyroid to make too much thyroid hormone
Pernicious anemia — a disease that keeps your body from absorbing vitamin B12 and making enough healthy red blood cells
Lupus — a disease that can damage many parts of the body, such as the joints, skin, blood vessels, and other organs.
So if it ever gets to that point, or heaven forbid morphs into Hashimotos Encephalopathy or even Lymphoma of the Thyroid, then I am not going to be dragging myself up flights of stairs all day. Bye-bye split level. I never liked you anyways.
3 Why are The Merritt's moving now...why can't The Merritt's wait until the market swings around? (Or in the sentiments of some acquaintances and my father the coach, why can't The Merritt's just keep working on it one project at a time. Take it in bite sized chunks...)
Get bent. Or go get sick and then see how well you like being told to "just do" something. Just "take my time and do one little project every month" until it's done? Just go stick your head in the toilet you dirty "just-er". Seriously, this makes me insane. So I'm to be a wife and mother and work 18 hour days and serve the church and God and be a good friend and neighbor and do my Visiting Teaching and see the doctors and pay my medical bills and then, on my RARE days off, I'm to tile a bathroom when I have no idea how to tile a bathroom? When do I get to spend time dealing with:
Fatigue
Weight gain
Pale, puffy face
Feeling cold
Intolerance to hot and cold temperatures
Joint and muscle pain
Constipation
Dry, thinning hair
Heavy menstrual flow or irregular periods
Depression
A slowed heart rate
Problems getting pregnant
I guess I am "just" to take all of the above in bite sized chunks, too. Oh, yeah, I can't. I don't control my disease.
We bought a house. And I worked really hard on it. And now I have to walk away from it. And I don't know where we are going and I don't know how this will turn out. I have a disease. I have an incurable disease. And I might not "look sick" to you and you may never notice it but the people I live with do. And the people I work with do and they thankfully keep hiring me. And I manage to plug along in my calling. But Brett and the kids take to finishing my sentences for me and I will probably not ever have another child of my own. And it's by the grace of God and my own stubborn Germanness that I am able to finish 6 days of 12+ hours of shooting without falling apart let alone everything else. It's too much. And I know it and my family knows it and my friends know it and now all of you know it and I believe that God knows it, too. And I believe he will take care of me. Because he doesn't want me to come home to a house that makes me cry before I even get out of my car, just thinking about what an albatross it is.
So if you know how to drywall and want a house in Edgemont...leave your name and number. You are the answer to my prayers.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Something for Everyone.
Problogger had this article called 29 Ways to Keep Me Coming Back to Your Blog. In an attempt to inspire "me" and by that I mean "you" to keep coming back to my blog I will now do the impossible. I will accomplish all 29.
1.Teach me how to do something.
2. Entertain me.
3. Stimulate me to think.
Dentists have recommended that a toothbrush be kept at least 6 feet away from a toilet to avoid airborne particles resulting from the flush.
4. Tell me a story.
Some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. The little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."
5. Present me with some interesting research results.
American Airlines saved $40,000 in 1987 by eliminating 1 olive from each salad served in first-class.
1 in every 4 Americans have been on TV.
6. Make me laugh.
A man and a friend are playing golf one day at their local golf course. One of the guys is about to chip onto the green when he sees a long funeral procession on the road next to the course. He stops in mid-swing, takes off his golf cap, closes his eyes, and bows down in prayer.
His friend says: “Wow, that is the most thoughtful and touching thing I have ever seen. You truly are a kind man.”
The man then replies: “Yeah, well we were married 35 years.”
7. Review a product or service to help me make a decision.
I like my Dyson vacuum and it does a good job on Pug hair and Costco has them for a good price.
8. Tell me why and how something applies to me.
#7 applies to you because it's true and eventually everyone needs a new Vacuum.
9. Show me a case study of something you’ve (or someone else has) done.
Co Author: Jeffri C. Bohlscheid
School of Food Science
University of Idaho
jeffb@uidaho.edu
Co Author: Frank J. Dinan
Department of Chemistry & Biochemistry
Canisius College
dinan@canisius.edu
Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) has claimed approximately one-third of the commercial honeybee population in recent years. A number of causes have been suggested for this phenomenon, including the consumption of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) by the bees. This directed case investigates the issues and chemistry that might be involved in CCD related to HFCS. The case was developed for use in an undergraduate organic chemistry or food chemistry course.
10.Make me feel like I’m not the only one who….
I have no idea what I'm doing as a parent. None. I think the stuff I try out works about 35% of the time. I mostly just hang out with my kids and try and keep them from eating poisonous stuff.
11. Predict what will happen next.
Someone will try and kill that Mubarak guy.
12. Collate what other people say about….
Communal. Go there. It's fantastic.
13. Inspire me.
"I believe life is to be lived, not worked, enjoyed, not agonized, loved, not hated."
Leland Bartlett
14. Give me a project to go away and do.
15. Give me a sense of belonging.
16. Explain what something means.
dougie
The term "dougie" derives from the name of 80's early 90's Hip Hopper Doug-E- Fresh. The term "dougie" means to have a cool or hip stlye.
"If we are going to go out tonight I need to go home and get dougie before we go."
fresh clean attractive style cool swagga; the way you carry yourself
also a dance
"Giiiiirl, his dougie is fresh."
17. Summarize a topic or issue.
In Cairo, Egypt, the people are revolting against the dictator Hosni Mubarak who has been running Egypt for the past thirty years. The idea of uprising began in Tunisia when people started planning a revolution through social media like Twitter and Facebook. Hosni Mubarak then proceeded to shut down not just cell phone service but all Internet connection in Egypt so they lost contact with the rest of the world until Wednesday, when it was turned back on. For the last year Egyptians have been unhappy due to poverty, low employment, increased food prices. The people of Egypt are now rebelling against the Government for not meeting their basic needs. Many protesters are being killed, some by Mubarak supporters who are shooting into the crowds of people who have ensconced themselves and will not leave until Mubarak steps down. As of February 2, 2011, Hosni Mubarak announced that he will not be running for a new term in the September elections, but he would like to finish his remaining term which will last another seven months. The people of Egypt want him to step down immediately.
18. Intrigue me.
19. Introduce me to someone of interest.
http://bmerritt.tumblr.com/
20.Tell me your opinion.
I think someone should shoot this Mubarak guy.
21. Link to something that I need to see or read.
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2011/01/21/style/1248069580659/on-the-street-a-stretch-of-leg.html
22. Share something I can relate to.
I find boogers on my kids' bed sheets. I wrap them up like burritos and have to carefully unwrap them at wash time.
23. Provide me with a list of resources.
A List of Resources for Studying Benjamin Franklin:
"Ben Franklin Stilled The Waves" Charles Tanford, Duke University Press, Durham, North Carolina, and London, England, 1989.
"Benjamin Franklin: His Life As He Wrote It" Edited by Esmond Wright, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1989.
"Benjamin Franklin's Science" I. Bernard Cohen, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, England, 1990.
For Kids
"The Many Lives of Benjamin Franklin" Aliki, Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers, New York, New York, 1988.
"What's The Big Idea, Ben Franklin?" Jean Fritz, Coward-McCann, New York, New York, 1976.
24. Stimulate me to enter into a dialogue or debate.
Hitler's mother considered an abortion. Did she make a mistake?
25. Give me a point of view that is different from the rest.
I am not anti-Gay marriage. I figure we have the blessings of Temple Marriage, so let them get married civilly and have their equal rights.
26. Encourage me to keep going through something I’m finding tough.
Isaiah 40:31
But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
27. Keep me up to date with the latest news or developments in a field of interest.
28. Guide me through a process.
29. Solve a problem that I have.
You didn't think I could do it did you? See you real soon...new subscribers!
1.Teach me how to do something.
2. Entertain me.
3. Stimulate me to think.
Dentists have recommended that a toothbrush be kept at least 6 feet away from a toilet to avoid airborne particles resulting from the flush.
4. Tell me a story.
Some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. The little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."
5. Present me with some interesting research results.
American Airlines saved $40,000 in 1987 by eliminating 1 olive from each salad served in first-class.
1 in every 4 Americans have been on TV.
6. Make me laugh.
A man and a friend are playing golf one day at their local golf course. One of the guys is about to chip onto the green when he sees a long funeral procession on the road next to the course. He stops in mid-swing, takes off his golf cap, closes his eyes, and bows down in prayer.
His friend says: “Wow, that is the most thoughtful and touching thing I have ever seen. You truly are a kind man.”
The man then replies: “Yeah, well we were married 35 years.”
7. Review a product or service to help me make a decision.
I like my Dyson vacuum and it does a good job on Pug hair and Costco has them for a good price.
8. Tell me why and how something applies to me.
#7 applies to you because it's true and eventually everyone needs a new Vacuum.
9. Show me a case study of something you’ve (or someone else has) done.
Co Author: Jeffri C. Bohlscheid
School of Food Science
University of Idaho
jeffb@uidaho.edu
Co Author: Frank J. Dinan
Department of Chemistry & Biochemistry
Canisius College
dinan@canisius.edu
Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) has claimed approximately one-third of the commercial honeybee population in recent years. A number of causes have been suggested for this phenomenon, including the consumption of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) by the bees. This directed case investigates the issues and chemistry that might be involved in CCD related to HFCS. The case was developed for use in an undergraduate organic chemistry or food chemistry course.
10.Make me feel like I’m not the only one who….
I have no idea what I'm doing as a parent. None. I think the stuff I try out works about 35% of the time. I mostly just hang out with my kids and try and keep them from eating poisonous stuff.
11. Predict what will happen next.
Someone will try and kill that Mubarak guy.
12. Collate what other people say about….
Communal. Go there. It's fantastic.
13. Inspire me.
"I believe life is to be lived, not worked, enjoyed, not agonized, loved, not hated."
Leland Bartlett
14. Give me a project to go away and do.
15. Give me a sense of belonging.
16. Explain what something means.
dougie
The term "dougie" derives from the name of 80's early 90's Hip Hopper Doug-E- Fresh. The term "dougie" means to have a cool or hip stlye.
"If we are going to go out tonight I need to go home and get dougie before we go."
fresh clean attractive style cool swagga; the way you carry yourself
also a dance
"Giiiiirl, his dougie is fresh."
17. Summarize a topic or issue.
In Cairo, Egypt, the people are revolting against the dictator Hosni Mubarak who has been running Egypt for the past thirty years. The idea of uprising began in Tunisia when people started planning a revolution through social media like Twitter and Facebook. Hosni Mubarak then proceeded to shut down not just cell phone service but all Internet connection in Egypt so they lost contact with the rest of the world until Wednesday, when it was turned back on. For the last year Egyptians have been unhappy due to poverty, low employment, increased food prices. The people of Egypt are now rebelling against the Government for not meeting their basic needs. Many protesters are being killed, some by Mubarak supporters who are shooting into the crowds of people who have ensconced themselves and will not leave until Mubarak steps down. As of February 2, 2011, Hosni Mubarak announced that he will not be running for a new term in the September elections, but he would like to finish his remaining term which will last another seven months. The people of Egypt want him to step down immediately.
18. Intrigue me.
19. Introduce me to someone of interest.
http://bmerritt.tumblr.com/
20.Tell me your opinion.
I think someone should shoot this Mubarak guy.
21. Link to something that I need to see or read.
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2011/01/21/style/1248069580659/on-the-street-a-stretch-of-leg.html
22. Share something I can relate to.
I find boogers on my kids' bed sheets. I wrap them up like burritos and have to carefully unwrap them at wash time.
23. Provide me with a list of resources.
A List of Resources for Studying Benjamin Franklin:
"Ben Franklin Stilled The Waves" Charles Tanford, Duke University Press, Durham, North Carolina, and London, England, 1989.
"Benjamin Franklin: His Life As He Wrote It" Edited by Esmond Wright, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1989.
"Benjamin Franklin's Science" I. Bernard Cohen, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, England, 1990.
For Kids
"The Many Lives of Benjamin Franklin" Aliki, Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers, New York, New York, 1988.
"What's The Big Idea, Ben Franklin?" Jean Fritz, Coward-McCann, New York, New York, 1976.
24. Stimulate me to enter into a dialogue or debate.
Hitler's mother considered an abortion. Did she make a mistake?
25. Give me a point of view that is different from the rest.
I am not anti-Gay marriage. I figure we have the blessings of Temple Marriage, so let them get married civilly and have their equal rights.
26. Encourage me to keep going through something I’m finding tough.
Isaiah 40:31
But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
27. Keep me up to date with the latest news or developments in a field of interest.
28. Guide me through a process.
29. Solve a problem that I have.
You didn't think I could do it did you? See you real soon...new subscribers!
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Breaking the Cycle: Day 2.
Disclaimer: This is an insanely long post.
At the end of Day One my dear husband came to me and told me that our girl child was being totally defiant. This is her thing. As a toddler she would kick and hit and spit and bite and scratch and do the exact thing you just told her not to do. When she was 3ish we got a tub refinished and I took her into the bathroom and I showed it to her and said, "See, it's white now but it's a bad chemical and we must not touch it because it won't come off our hands. It's not like paint. Don't touch!" And I walked her out of the room and shut the door and she did an immediate 180 and put her hand on the tub. We ask her to do something and she whines or cries or throws a temper tantrum or all three. Since she is no longer a toddler and I'm pretty sure this kind of behavior should be a random occurrence and not a common occurrence, we worry. Some people say it's just girls or it's certain kids in general but it doesn't feel right to me. She also doesn't usually act that way in front of anyone but her parents.
Some things are making a difference already. I try and listen to her and repeat back what she says to me. Instead of going, "Uhhuh...uhhuh." I'm making eye contact and getting down on her level more when she talks. I'm praying really hard that I will know what they need, and give them that instead of what I think they need. I think they need what I needed. I needed clothes that fit and weren't old and dirty and had holes, I needed our heat and electricity and phone paid for. I needed my mother to be at events and not say inappropriate things when my friends were over. I needed her to not talk about sex all the time. I needed her to not flirt with neighborhood young adult males. I needed her to get off the phone with people that weren't her kids or husband and needed her to not work all the time if we weren't going to benefit as a family from her being gone. And I figured as a Mother if I wasn't doing any of these things, I was doing my job.
But I need some new ideas. So I called Jules and talked to her. Her father did some cute things with her that made her feel like she was special. He set up dates with her, to go and be with just her. They'd walk through the mall or go to the park. The point was just to get out and spend time together and talk. I loved that idea. She and I had a good conversation and at one point she said that at least I wasn't afraid I loved my girl less because of her dad. That at least I wasn't holding what he did against her. But I am terrified that I am. When she was born she came out looking like her biological father. And I can't explain the sadness. She was beautiful, it wasn't that. It was that there was nothing but deep, deep heartache left over from that experience and I didn't know how to separate those feelings.
Her Bio dad and I met at The Owl Bar. And I was in the middle of the experience I had written about previously. I had no desire to smoke or drink any more, and I was praying, but I don't think I had gone to church yet. A friend had gotten a baby sitter and no one wanted to go up to the bar with her. She called me like 4 times so I finally agreed to go. I didn't drink and I sat there vacantly while she talked about the cute guy at the table behind us. After a bit, he came and sat down next to me. But then he did nothing. He just sat there. For a long time. I felt so bad for the guy I struck up a conversation with him.
We had our first date on Father's Day. The irony. I asked then if he had kids and he said he had 5. I choked. I remember thinking it was a lot for someone his age but looking back I think he may have lied about that, too, his age. He asked me about my kids and I said I just had the one. He was surprised but I told him that I had been told by my OBGYN that I would have a hard time conceiving so I was lucky to have the one. I asked if he had called his dad yet and he said he had not. I urged him to call his dad before it got too late. He looked kind of ill. Like I had asked him to go ahead and drink poison since it was Drink a Poison Day. He called and left him an awkward message and he got choked up when he told his dad that he loved him and wished him a Happy Father's Day.
We broke up and got back together a bunch of times because I started feeling like I wanted someone who wanted to be in the church and he had just started living outside it. He told me I was wrong, that he had always wanted a testimony and that he was learning a lot from what I was going through. I told him I wanted to be married in the temple one day and he told me he wanted nothing more than to have a love that would last forever. He met with my bishop a few times and my dear neighbor Tom who both told him that if his intentions were not pure that he had better get lost or they would find him. My bishop was an ex marine and super scary. My neighbor has since passed away, and I'd be afraid if I were Bio.
He talked me out of accepting a small apartment Tom was letting me live in insisting that my son and I would be cramped space. He said that when my house sold I should move all of my stuff into his garage at his house he had up for sale since it was huge and empty and he had 6 weeks of traveling coming up. He wouldn't even be at home. So I accepted. On my way to a job interview I got a call from him telling me to not go, that we'd figure out something and he'd help me out. I told him I didn't want to accept that kind of arrangement unless I was married. He told me I didn't understand, that he lived to help people. He was just that way and I didn't understand also that he was serious about me. He had told people he worked with I was the one. He said it wasn't best for my son for me to work as many hours as this job would require and I should just hang out and keep looking and be more selective. I called and canceled my interview. He had a trip to take to New York and asked if I wanted to go. My favorite place on earth. I went and when I got there, there was only one bed and not even a pull out or a full sized couch.
We came home and things were awkward. He kept making little promises and not backing them up. He became angry. He started to resent my being there even though he had fought so hard for it. I knew this would happen. He packed in a sour mood and left. I went on a job interview while he was gone and I also took a pregnancy test. I don't even know why I took it, I really didn't think I would or could be pregnant. I was. He was with his kids in California when I called and told him. I was thinking I might get a 'wow' or an 'oh my gosh' but I got complete silence. Not a word and then, click. And it got worse from there. When he came home he was surly and rude. He was talking about suicide and he said over and over that he couldn't be a dad. Which at the time confused me because he already WAS a dad. What did that even mean? I told him we didn't have to be together if that was the issue. He wasn't obligated to date me just because I was pregnant. I also told him he wasn't obligated to pay through the government. That we could work out a dollar amount, since he was paying so much still for his other kids and since his ex had allegedly stolen his life savings and maxes all his credit cards. (A little over half a million to hear him tell it.) He told me that not only was he not going to pay me a dime he was going to sue me for getting pregnant. He felt I had lied to him and ensnared him )I believe the word he used was duped) because I told him on our first date that I couldn't get pregnant. I reminded him that I do have another child, he's met him. I never said it was impossible. And it was in a normal context that I shared that information. I told him that I would be interested in what his lawyer would have to say about bringing that lawsuit up. He would arrange talks where he would press me to give up the baby for adoption. He would email me and call me and tell me I was a disgusting person and that watching me keep a baby with out considering his feelings was the single most selfish thing he had ever witnessed in his life.
I started seeing a councilor at LDS services. Which was fun, being the only pregnant woman in the waiting room over 18. I talked with a family from Michigan I think, The Brubakers, about adoption and they were really nice. The reasons I didn't were these: I didn't want my son to learn that people were expendable. My father told me about a personal friend that had done it and regretted it and he knew I would also. It wasn't something I would have ever wanted if I hadn't been guilted into it. I saw her face in a sonogram and she looked like she had my chin. I stupidly thought that since she was a girl she'd probably look like me. And then one day I saw the Brubakers on the highway, they have a vanity plate with their family name. And I thought, what are the odds? And as we all waved at one another it occurred to me that we are the same. They are no better than I am. This child would not be trading up into a better existence. I knew I would be able to remarry and she would have everything with me she would with them. And she'd be with her Mom.
I was told one night on the phone that no only did no one from his family want to be there when she was born but they didn't want to have anything to do with me. He had told them what I had done and they agreed that the best thing he could do was to have nothing to do with me and the baby and that they supported him in his wishes. They also hated me, thought I was a slut and wanted nothing to do with me. Not long after I went into labor and delivered a baby girl. The day I gave birth is an unreal story of it's own but I'll spare you that. Or we'll be here until March.
The nurses wanted to know if he would come down and sign the paternity papers. So we called him. He talked to my sister, Amanda, who had helped me deliver. And he said he wouldn't sign them, that his lawyer instructed him not to sign anything unless he looked it over first. We explained how it was just one sheet of paper and it just read that he was the father. He said he didn't know for sure that he was the father. And anyway he was in California. He knew I was having the baby that week so he had run away. Either that or again, he was lying. My sister told him he should at least talk to me and he said he'd call me in a little bit, when he wasn't around his kids. I laid in my hospital bed with the phone on my deflated belly for four hours before I set it back on the dresser.
So when I had my little girl and she came out the spitting image of her father, it stung. I was afraid I was selfish in keeping her and I hurt and I was tired and scared. All of these emotions didn't leave much room for mother daughter bonding. It was never about just the two of us, it was about the two of us and the one that wasn't there. This story goes on and yes, it gets better but not by much. It's been a drawn out process and it's been full of sadness. As more time passes, I remember it less but there is a fear that, yes, we didn't bond like I wished. Like I did with my son.
So last night, after my husband informed me of her emotional state, I went into her room and didn't talk. I didn't ask her what was wrong or why she wasn't listening to dad. I didn't try and teach her anything like I usually would but it wasn't a conscious choice. I just found that I wanted to hold her and snuggle her, in part because of the emotional day I had after what I wrote. So I went in and wrapped her up in my arms and snuggled down into her bed with her. And she wrapped her arms around me back. We talked about random stuff. And she calmed down. We all said prayers and went to bed. She had a tiny fever so we stayed home all day yesterday. And we watched a movie in her bed on my phone. And we had lunch with dad and watched shows and she had a good nap. And then last night I put her to bed an hour early. Not a single tantrum since. It's a new day here.
At the end of Day One my dear husband came to me and told me that our girl child was being totally defiant. This is her thing. As a toddler she would kick and hit and spit and bite and scratch and do the exact thing you just told her not to do. When she was 3ish we got a tub refinished and I took her into the bathroom and I showed it to her and said, "See, it's white now but it's a bad chemical and we must not touch it because it won't come off our hands. It's not like paint. Don't touch!" And I walked her out of the room and shut the door and she did an immediate 180 and put her hand on the tub. We ask her to do something and she whines or cries or throws a temper tantrum or all three. Since she is no longer a toddler and I'm pretty sure this kind of behavior should be a random occurrence and not a common occurrence, we worry. Some people say it's just girls or it's certain kids in general but it doesn't feel right to me. She also doesn't usually act that way in front of anyone but her parents.
Some things are making a difference already. I try and listen to her and repeat back what she says to me. Instead of going, "Uhhuh...uhhuh." I'm making eye contact and getting down on her level more when she talks. I'm praying really hard that I will know what they need, and give them that instead of what I think they need. I think they need what I needed. I needed clothes that fit and weren't old and dirty and had holes, I needed our heat and electricity and phone paid for. I needed my mother to be at events and not say inappropriate things when my friends were over. I needed her to not talk about sex all the time. I needed her to not flirt with neighborhood young adult males. I needed her to get off the phone with people that weren't her kids or husband and needed her to not work all the time if we weren't going to benefit as a family from her being gone. And I figured as a Mother if I wasn't doing any of these things, I was doing my job.
But I need some new ideas. So I called Jules and talked to her. Her father did some cute things with her that made her feel like she was special. He set up dates with her, to go and be with just her. They'd walk through the mall or go to the park. The point was just to get out and spend time together and talk. I loved that idea. She and I had a good conversation and at one point she said that at least I wasn't afraid I loved my girl less because of her dad. That at least I wasn't holding what he did against her. But I am terrified that I am. When she was born she came out looking like her biological father. And I can't explain the sadness. She was beautiful, it wasn't that. It was that there was nothing but deep, deep heartache left over from that experience and I didn't know how to separate those feelings.
Her Bio dad and I met at The Owl Bar. And I was in the middle of the experience I had written about previously. I had no desire to smoke or drink any more, and I was praying, but I don't think I had gone to church yet. A friend had gotten a baby sitter and no one wanted to go up to the bar with her. She called me like 4 times so I finally agreed to go. I didn't drink and I sat there vacantly while she talked about the cute guy at the table behind us. After a bit, he came and sat down next to me. But then he did nothing. He just sat there. For a long time. I felt so bad for the guy I struck up a conversation with him.
We had our first date on Father's Day. The irony. I asked then if he had kids and he said he had 5. I choked. I remember thinking it was a lot for someone his age but looking back I think he may have lied about that, too, his age. He asked me about my kids and I said I just had the one. He was surprised but I told him that I had been told by my OBGYN that I would have a hard time conceiving so I was lucky to have the one. I asked if he had called his dad yet and he said he had not. I urged him to call his dad before it got too late. He looked kind of ill. Like I had asked him to go ahead and drink poison since it was Drink a Poison Day. He called and left him an awkward message and he got choked up when he told his dad that he loved him and wished him a Happy Father's Day.
We broke up and got back together a bunch of times because I started feeling like I wanted someone who wanted to be in the church and he had just started living outside it. He told me I was wrong, that he had always wanted a testimony and that he was learning a lot from what I was going through. I told him I wanted to be married in the temple one day and he told me he wanted nothing more than to have a love that would last forever. He met with my bishop a few times and my dear neighbor Tom who both told him that if his intentions were not pure that he had better get lost or they would find him. My bishop was an ex marine and super scary. My neighbor has since passed away, and I'd be afraid if I were Bio.
He talked me out of accepting a small apartment Tom was letting me live in insisting that my son and I would be cramped space. He said that when my house sold I should move all of my stuff into his garage at his house he had up for sale since it was huge and empty and he had 6 weeks of traveling coming up. He wouldn't even be at home. So I accepted. On my way to a job interview I got a call from him telling me to not go, that we'd figure out something and he'd help me out. I told him I didn't want to accept that kind of arrangement unless I was married. He told me I didn't understand, that he lived to help people. He was just that way and I didn't understand also that he was serious about me. He had told people he worked with I was the one. He said it wasn't best for my son for me to work as many hours as this job would require and I should just hang out and keep looking and be more selective. I called and canceled my interview. He had a trip to take to New York and asked if I wanted to go. My favorite place on earth. I went and when I got there, there was only one bed and not even a pull out or a full sized couch.
We came home and things were awkward. He kept making little promises and not backing them up. He became angry. He started to resent my being there even though he had fought so hard for it. I knew this would happen. He packed in a sour mood and left. I went on a job interview while he was gone and I also took a pregnancy test. I don't even know why I took it, I really didn't think I would or could be pregnant. I was. He was with his kids in California when I called and told him. I was thinking I might get a 'wow' or an 'oh my gosh' but I got complete silence. Not a word and then, click. And it got worse from there. When he came home he was surly and rude. He was talking about suicide and he said over and over that he couldn't be a dad. Which at the time confused me because he already WAS a dad. What did that even mean? I told him we didn't have to be together if that was the issue. He wasn't obligated to date me just because I was pregnant. I also told him he wasn't obligated to pay through the government. That we could work out a dollar amount, since he was paying so much still for his other kids and since his ex had allegedly stolen his life savings and maxes all his credit cards. (A little over half a million to hear him tell it.) He told me that not only was he not going to pay me a dime he was going to sue me for getting pregnant. He felt I had lied to him and ensnared him )I believe the word he used was duped) because I told him on our first date that I couldn't get pregnant. I reminded him that I do have another child, he's met him. I never said it was impossible. And it was in a normal context that I shared that information. I told him that I would be interested in what his lawyer would have to say about bringing that lawsuit up. He would arrange talks where he would press me to give up the baby for adoption. He would email me and call me and tell me I was a disgusting person and that watching me keep a baby with out considering his feelings was the single most selfish thing he had ever witnessed in his life.
I started seeing a councilor at LDS services. Which was fun, being the only pregnant woman in the waiting room over 18. I talked with a family from Michigan I think, The Brubakers, about adoption and they were really nice. The reasons I didn't were these: I didn't want my son to learn that people were expendable. My father told me about a personal friend that had done it and regretted it and he knew I would also. It wasn't something I would have ever wanted if I hadn't been guilted into it. I saw her face in a sonogram and she looked like she had my chin. I stupidly thought that since she was a girl she'd probably look like me. And then one day I saw the Brubakers on the highway, they have a vanity plate with their family name. And I thought, what are the odds? And as we all waved at one another it occurred to me that we are the same. They are no better than I am. This child would not be trading up into a better existence. I knew I would be able to remarry and she would have everything with me she would with them. And she'd be with her Mom.
I was told one night on the phone that no only did no one from his family want to be there when she was born but they didn't want to have anything to do with me. He had told them what I had done and they agreed that the best thing he could do was to have nothing to do with me and the baby and that they supported him in his wishes. They also hated me, thought I was a slut and wanted nothing to do with me. Not long after I went into labor and delivered a baby girl. The day I gave birth is an unreal story of it's own but I'll spare you that. Or we'll be here until March.
The nurses wanted to know if he would come down and sign the paternity papers. So we called him. He talked to my sister, Amanda, who had helped me deliver. And he said he wouldn't sign them, that his lawyer instructed him not to sign anything unless he looked it over first. We explained how it was just one sheet of paper and it just read that he was the father. He said he didn't know for sure that he was the father. And anyway he was in California. He knew I was having the baby that week so he had run away. Either that or again, he was lying. My sister told him he should at least talk to me and he said he'd call me in a little bit, when he wasn't around his kids. I laid in my hospital bed with the phone on my deflated belly for four hours before I set it back on the dresser.
So when I had my little girl and she came out the spitting image of her father, it stung. I was afraid I was selfish in keeping her and I hurt and I was tired and scared. All of these emotions didn't leave much room for mother daughter bonding. It was never about just the two of us, it was about the two of us and the one that wasn't there. This story goes on and yes, it gets better but not by much. It's been a drawn out process and it's been full of sadness. As more time passes, I remember it less but there is a fear that, yes, we didn't bond like I wished. Like I did with my son.
So last night, after my husband informed me of her emotional state, I went into her room and didn't talk. I didn't ask her what was wrong or why she wasn't listening to dad. I didn't try and teach her anything like I usually would but it wasn't a conscious choice. I just found that I wanted to hold her and snuggle her, in part because of the emotional day I had after what I wrote. So I went in and wrapped her up in my arms and snuggled down into her bed with her. And she wrapped her arms around me back. We talked about random stuff. And she calmed down. We all said prayers and went to bed. She had a tiny fever so we stayed home all day yesterday. And we watched a movie in her bed on my phone. And we had lunch with dad and watched shows and she had a good nap. And then last night I put her to bed an hour early. Not a single tantrum since. It's a new day here.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Project "Break the Cycle". Day one.
I was tucking in my daughter last night and for about the 10th time she insisted that I spent more time in my son's room than in hers. She's been doing this lately. I ask my son, who's 11, to go get the mail and she pushes him out of the way to grab it first. There are serious competition issues going on. So she's keeping track of how much time alone he gets versus what she gets at bed time. So I go into the same old speech about how she is not in competition with her brother. She begins to get whiney and complainy and it begins to make me insane. I get stabby when she gets temper-tantrumy. So I tell her that I don't spend more time with him and that I try hard to be sure that I spend equal amounts of time and that the times I leave her room early are usually the nights when I can't stay because she starts to get cranky and mean and I don't stick around for that. I tell her that she's saying I'm being a bad Mom by spending more time with him than her and I don't need to hear that when I try so hard to make their time equal. And then she said the worst thing she could ever have said to me. "You love him more than me."
I sort of stumbled into my bedroom where my husband was folding laundry and I said, "Did you hear her? She just said I love him more than her. Can you believe it? I don't act that way!" And he sort of shrugged his shoulders. I said, "Wait, you're saying I do act like that?" And I don't recall what he said but it was the equivalent of "If the shoes fits."
Wow.
I grew up the child of a High School Track coach and a crazy person. She was nuts. At the time I thought she was normal but now I know better. I have many stories but I'll illustrate what was normal for her with the highlights.
I was in 1st grade and one day my mother was brushing my hair which she didn't do often. And I was whining and crying because it was waist length and I had not been introduced to conditioner and she'd start at the root and rip through it. She told me to stop. So I explained loudly that she was hurting me and she just picked up a pair of scissors and cut it off in one swoop. Just snip, snip, snip. Off. To my chin.
My mother took me to doctors to have EKGs and other tests done because she believed I had narcolepsy since I could fall asleep anywhere, but my parents never made me go to bed before midnight. My tests came back normal but she was certain they must be wrong and so she illegally obtained something called Desoxyn, which is called speed on the street, and gave it to me, every day for about 2 years. I was in 2nd grade.
My parents got tickets to the Track events for the 1984 Olympics. We drove out there in my grandparents' Itasca. We all went together to the stadium most days but one day in particular they could only get two tickets not four. Normal people would decide which parent would take which child. My mother and father go together, hand us a bus schedule for the greater Los Angeles area and tell us to visit South Coast Mall. We got lost and had to ask strangers how to get back to our hotel. I actually remember walking along a chain link fence doing an impersonation of Tina Turner singing, "What's Love Got to Do With It." since where we were looked just like the video. That's not a good thing.
In 4th grade she sat down with my teacher to discuss my issues with school. She sat there and lied her face off to my teacher. She said they tried and tried with me and they didn't know what to do, I just wouldn't do my work. I cried my eyes out. My teacher, Ms Christiansen, asked me what was wrong and I couldn't tell her. I couldn't say that my mother was lying.
I reminded my mother 100 times about my upcoming 5th grade Maturation Clinic. It was a huge deal. Parents had to go with their kids. But on the day of, she didn't show up. My teacher and a few other parents kept asking me where my mother was. I didn't know. I was given permission to go to the office and call home. I let it ring all the way through, twice. When she finally picked up she said she couldn't come, she was taking a nap. I stopped telling her about or asking her to come to any of my events. And my dad was just...I don't know...working?
I stole the white drop waisted dress with a pink sash that my mother made for my sister's 6th grade graduation to wear to my own 6th grade graduation and no one knew because I walked there by myself, got my certificate, and walked home by myself.
In 7th grade I hosted the school talent show. I bought myself a 1950s formal dress at a thrift shop, got myself ready, drove myself there (on our scooter) and home again without a word. I don't think anyone in my family ever even knew I did that, and it never occurred to me that was weird. It was just the norm at that point.
In 8th grade I missed the bus a few times, but the 3rd time it happened my mother screamed at me that I wasn't her daughter and hung up on me. I walked with a friend to her Dad's office where we Xeroxed our boobs.
The Summer before my freshman year my mother started a running bet with her best friend that I would get pregnant by the time I was 15. I had never even held hands with- let alone kissed- a boy. Her best friend, may she RIP, wisely betted against my early and unwedded pregnancy. I saved that for my 30s.
On her off days she would slap my face and shake me and leave me notes telling me I was a little @#$%. She had hundreds of different jobs and friends and spent money on clothes at the expense of us having heat, electricity, a phone. My sister and mother would come home together laughing with shopping bags and when I would ask where they had gone they'd answer that they had gone out for Ice Cream. And then my sister would show me the clothes that she got. So when I heard what my daughter said, it was a dagger to my heart, bamboo under my nails, hot pokers in my eyes. Because it was what I had been told my whole life by my older sister. That my mother loved her more than me. And she was right. She did. Love being a verb, she loved my sister more than me. I was being accused of the worst possible crime I could be accused. That I was just like my mother.
Oh man. This can not be. I'm breaking the cycle and I'm doing it now. I need to start figuring out what I need to do differently and I need to execute. Like yesterday. 2011. Breaking the cycle. Here we go.
I sort of stumbled into my bedroom where my husband was folding laundry and I said, "Did you hear her? She just said I love him more than her. Can you believe it? I don't act that way!" And he sort of shrugged his shoulders. I said, "Wait, you're saying I do act like that?" And I don't recall what he said but it was the equivalent of "If the shoes fits."
Wow.
I grew up the child of a High School Track coach and a crazy person. She was nuts. At the time I thought she was normal but now I know better. I have many stories but I'll illustrate what was normal for her with the highlights.
I was in 1st grade and one day my mother was brushing my hair which she didn't do often. And I was whining and crying because it was waist length and I had not been introduced to conditioner and she'd start at the root and rip through it. She told me to stop. So I explained loudly that she was hurting me and she just picked up a pair of scissors and cut it off in one swoop. Just snip, snip, snip. Off. To my chin.
My mother took me to doctors to have EKGs and other tests done because she believed I had narcolepsy since I could fall asleep anywhere, but my parents never made me go to bed before midnight. My tests came back normal but she was certain they must be wrong and so she illegally obtained something called Desoxyn, which is called speed on the street, and gave it to me, every day for about 2 years. I was in 2nd grade.
My parents got tickets to the Track events for the 1984 Olympics. We drove out there in my grandparents' Itasca. We all went together to the stadium most days but one day in particular they could only get two tickets not four. Normal people would decide which parent would take which child. My mother and father go together, hand us a bus schedule for the greater Los Angeles area and tell us to visit South Coast Mall. We got lost and had to ask strangers how to get back to our hotel. I actually remember walking along a chain link fence doing an impersonation of Tina Turner singing, "What's Love Got to Do With It." since where we were looked just like the video. That's not a good thing.
In 4th grade she sat down with my teacher to discuss my issues with school. She sat there and lied her face off to my teacher. She said they tried and tried with me and they didn't know what to do, I just wouldn't do my work. I cried my eyes out. My teacher, Ms Christiansen, asked me what was wrong and I couldn't tell her. I couldn't say that my mother was lying.
I reminded my mother 100 times about my upcoming 5th grade Maturation Clinic. It was a huge deal. Parents had to go with their kids. But on the day of, she didn't show up. My teacher and a few other parents kept asking me where my mother was. I didn't know. I was given permission to go to the office and call home. I let it ring all the way through, twice. When she finally picked up she said she couldn't come, she was taking a nap. I stopped telling her about or asking her to come to any of my events. And my dad was just...I don't know...working?
I stole the white drop waisted dress with a pink sash that my mother made for my sister's 6th grade graduation to wear to my own 6th grade graduation and no one knew because I walked there by myself, got my certificate, and walked home by myself.
In 7th grade I hosted the school talent show. I bought myself a 1950s formal dress at a thrift shop, got myself ready, drove myself there (on our scooter) and home again without a word. I don't think anyone in my family ever even knew I did that, and it never occurred to me that was weird. It was just the norm at that point.
In 8th grade I missed the bus a few times, but the 3rd time it happened my mother screamed at me that I wasn't her daughter and hung up on me. I walked with a friend to her Dad's office where we Xeroxed our boobs.
The Summer before my freshman year my mother started a running bet with her best friend that I would get pregnant by the time I was 15. I had never even held hands with- let alone kissed- a boy. Her best friend, may she RIP, wisely betted against my early and unwedded pregnancy. I saved that for my 30s.
On her off days she would slap my face and shake me and leave me notes telling me I was a little @#$%. She had hundreds of different jobs and friends and spent money on clothes at the expense of us having heat, electricity, a phone. My sister and mother would come home together laughing with shopping bags and when I would ask where they had gone they'd answer that they had gone out for Ice Cream. And then my sister would show me the clothes that she got. So when I heard what my daughter said, it was a dagger to my heart, bamboo under my nails, hot pokers in my eyes. Because it was what I had been told my whole life by my older sister. That my mother loved her more than me. And she was right. She did. Love being a verb, she loved my sister more than me. I was being accused of the worst possible crime I could be accused. That I was just like my mother.
Oh man. This can not be. I'm breaking the cycle and I'm doing it now. I need to start figuring out what I need to do differently and I need to execute. Like yesterday. 2011. Breaking the cycle. Here we go.
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