"But Mom, I'm STUFFED"

This after a mere three sips of ginger ale this morning.  Tucker is continuing to have a really hard time.   Well, both boys are.  Michael has coughed so much that he's broken the little capillaries in his eyes, he looks like a vampire with the blood welling up there.  Tucker has coughed so much that he's started throwing up from the force of coughing.  And he has nosebleeds. 

I've told them both that they have no choice today, they have to drink drink drink because the extended time with fever has them both on the edge of dehydration. 

So not much depth in the writing department here.  Still have my head down nursing sick boys. 

I'll be back. 

For those of you interested in my poetry, I posted a couple new ones this week over at Mysterri.  I welcome feedback.

Albuquerque Public Schools were closed today due to icy road conditions.  Tucker is feeling better today, but still not 100%.  When I told him that the schools were closed he was indignant.  "You mean I WASTED a perfectly good fever!"

Nutty Kid

Did you hear about the German travel agency that's going to allow nudists to fly naked on certain flights? 

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22895813/?GT1=10755

Cool (Scary) Mary says it better be a really warm plane because she's usually cold when she flies.  My thought is what if you start going down?  I for one want to have panties to pee in.

Okay there are actually three missing pieces.  And I'm a less than happy camper.  Tucker kind of gave up and has just been lying on the couch watching me finish the puzzle of the week.  But instead of the 750 piece puzzle we expected, it seems that we got a 747 piece puzzle.  Grrrrrrrr

The Baby is still feeling pretty sick.  Running a fever.  And this afternoon his brother joined him.  Right now they are feeling a little better cause I loaded them up with meds, but it's been a day of lying around in pajamas and sleeping a lot. 

Tucker has been sick today.  He ran a fever above 100 most of the day, in spite of my pouring ginger ale down his throat along with tylenol and flu medicine.  He pretty much just felt like crap. 

So today has been family time with snuggles, freshly baked cookies and casseroles, and DVD movie hour(s).

We watched Game Plan which was predictable but funny.  I enjoyed "The Rock's" tongue-in-cheek parody of the egotistical star athlete.  (And the eight year old playing the daughter was cuter than a button and deserves a great deal of praise for her performance.)

We also watched Pirates of the Carribbean At Worlds End.  I know we may be the last family in America who hasn't seen it (excepting the Amish, people with no televisions, people who object to the film on religious principles, and survivalists who would have watched it if they weren't busy guarding that case of beans.)

The boys were kind of in and out of the room for some of it.  I have told them that anything intense they are allowed to skip.  In fact I deliberately sent them to their rooms for the opening sequence of men, women and children being hanged because that was enough to creep me out severely.

But they were on board for the last half of it, laughing at the right places and asking questions when it came to the philosophy espoused in the film.  One line that we talked about a lot was "It's not just about living forever, Jackie, it's about living forever with yourself."

We all know people who have strong moral codes.  In fact, I'd wager that most of us believe that our moral code is a good one and that the world would be a better place if more people did as we did.  The thing that's amazing to me is how some of us (maybe even me) can be so blind to our own faults and moral failings. 

I see this a lot in the work I do.  Because I'm surrounded by "do-gooder" types, you'd expect that these would be the most upstanding people you'd meet.  But just like Drs are no less prone to illness than anyone else, people who professionally seek social justice are no more resistant to temptation, rationalization, and judgmentalism than anyone else would be. 

There was an article some time back, maybe some of you even saw it, saying that it seems the people who are in the do-gooder professions appear even more likely than the average person to commit certain kinds of "sins".  They lie on their taxes more, take "short-cuts" that would be considered out and out fraud by the rest of us, and break promises more often.  It seems that these people are particularly good at justifying their behavior in the name of the "greater good."

I'm not much of a believer in greater good.  Does that strike you as odd coming from someone who makes her living trying to help people?  I'm a believer in the law of love, which is as high a standard as I can envision.  Treat other people as I would desire to be treated myself.  Love my neighbor, not with some silly emotional fuzziness but with my actions.  Respect the property of other people because that demonstrates that I respect them.  Understand that everyone I meet is a child of God with his or her own calling and responsibility. 

It's not just about living forever, it's about living forever with yourself. 

Usually when I write about moral failings I'm thinly veiling a confession of my own short-comings.  In this case, I'm not.  I know that I can be rigid and obsessive about some things.  I know that I don't always make the best choices.  But given the information I have to work with, I am fierce in my commitment to love my friends and my neighbors.  To be kind (or at least funny).  And to speak the truth in love. 

I've been thinking about this a lot lately because one of my friends is going through a difficult time.  She's not comfortable with some of the practices at her work and she is trying to decide whether they are bad enough that they violate her ethical code, or if they are just not the choices she would have made. 

At one point she talked about whether she should just go to work, do the minimum she had to do, and then leave it all behind at the end of the day.  The problem with that is that my friend is one who has rather high standards for herself.  She demands a strong performance from herself in every project she undertakes.  To "just work" would violate her sense of responsibility to herself.  So my advice to her has been that if she's so conflicted about the job that she cannot feel good about giving her best, she needs to find a different job. 

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter whether your boss feels that you did a good job, or whether the clients you serve ever notice that they got perfect invoices and well organized service.  At the end of the day the only person who will remember what kind of job you did, is you. 

It's not just about living forever, it's about living forever with yourself.

My friend COOL MARY, (who is fast becoming Scary Mary because she's been practicing her Scrabble technique and is seriously kicking my butt these days) has observed that many people seem to spend most of their at work time goofing off.  In fact, she speculates that for someone with a good work ethic (like her, or me or most of the people we hang out with) the amount that the average boss gets out of us is so much more than they get from the average worker, that someone like me, working from home, could handle two full time jobs and keep both companies happy because the employers would still get all they expect and more! 

It's a good thought. 

It led me to another thought.  For all that people goof off, surf the net, apply for other jobs on company time and the like ... I wonder whether we aren't just as guilty of "goofing off" on days that should be used for our mental health.  In this case, goofing off would consist of doing errands, housework, applying for other jobs on our own time, and other activities that prevent the very important work of play. 

play [pley] noun  exercise or activity for amusement or recreation.

What do you do for no other reason than that you enjoy doing it?  What provides you amusement?  What re-creates your passion, energy, and drive?

Kids seem to know how to play without having to think about it too much.  But even kids have to learn how to play and for some it's harder than others.  Autism is one of those conditions that can impede a child's ability to play.  But even a kid with that kind of handicap can learn to plan, and so can you. 

Kids at play will run, jump, stretch, reach, concentrate, study, imagine, discover ... laugh.  Genuine play makes you want to laugh. 

Around here we play.  We read, we work jigsaw puzzles, we play board games, we take the camera and go "treasure hunting" for pictures to share with each other, we swim (when it's warmer), and we go to museums and art galleries to feed our souls.  We write poems, we sing, we listen to music.  We watch movies and talk about them.  We cook.  (Some of us get on the Internet and play Scrabble with a certain Scary Friend.)

And we laugh and laugh and laugh. 

The weekend is coming.  For your health, I hope you'll play. 

Dance, sing, make-love, write a poem, blow bubbles off your balcony,  go for a bike ride, eat something you've never eaten before, paint something, and laugh.

 
                          

I deposited another 2 square feet into the down-payment account today.  That brings my total square feet saved to 58 if you round up a little. 

History is informative, but we live in the present.

A breath has come in.  Now it is going out.

Every wisdom tradition teaches of time.

Beginning

Breathing

Ending

Expiration

Yesterday is gone

That door is closed and can never be reopened.

No matter how long we stare at the door.

No matter that we long for it to be a window allowing us one more glimpse, one more opportunity to write that story. 

It is finished.

My cat doesn't do this. 

She wakes, she sleeps, she eats.

When she eats, it's not because she remembers being hungry, or that she remembers being sad.  She's hungry now, in this moment.

When she sleeps, she does not dream of the mouse that got away.  Although perhaps she does dream of the jingle bell she left beneath the sofa because it's still there. 

When she wakes, she will invite herself to curl up on me because she doesn't care about the fact that she was warm by the fire yesterday.  Now, in this moment she is cold. 

My cat has a wisdom I envy.  When I wake in the morning I go back to the place I was warm yesterday expecting to feel warmth again.  I am surprised every time to find that the door is closed.  I can't open it.  I can't change it.  I can't call back the flame that filled the fireplace.  I can't do anything in yesterday.  I can't feel it, smell it or taste it. 

But I can't be warm in the clothes of today unless I leave off staring at the closed door. 

I have a pair of shoes.  Okay, I have many many pairs of shoes.  But there's this one in particular that I've been wearing a lot.  They are black and klunky.  Not designer shoes, or even a good knock-off of a designer.  They are basic, black, mannish looking lace up shoes.  Sturdy shoes, and they keep my feet warm.  (Even warmer than my lovely, elegant Steve Madden boots.).  Every time I slide my foot into those shoes I think, "I have big feet."

The other day, I had taken my shoes off in the the living room - where I frequently remove my shoes and leave them for other members of the household to trip across.  But the point of this story is that on that particular day and at that particular time, I had a new realization.  My shoes happened to be lying there beside the shoes of one of my boys.  And my shoes were tiny.  If my shoes which fit me beautifully are tiny, my feet must be tiny inside them.

Days get lived in context and relationship.  Every day we spend is a new room we've entered.  Rooms we've been through before have led us to the room we're in now.  But the only way to live in this room, is to live in relationship to the people and circumstances who are in this room with us. 

A breath comes in.  A breath goes out.

A breath comes in.  A breath goes out.

.
* * * * *

The house I've been looking at online and drooling over, sold.  Oh well.  I knew it was unlikely that it would still be availble come June, but I was kind of hoping. 

A breath comes in.  A breath goes out.

* * * * *

Having New Mexican for lunch:

Chicken Soup

2 T Olive oil
one large onion diced
4-6 large boneless skinless chicken breats, cut into bite sized cubes
3 cans reduced sodium chicken broth
4 large potatoes, diced into small pieces
1 16 ounce tub of frozen Bueno Autumn Roast green chile (hot)
1 can fire roasted diced tomatoes (I'd have used two but the pot got full)
1 can fat free refried beans
sea salt to taste

In a large soup pot over medium high heat: Cook onion in olive oil until soft.  Then add all the other ingredients and simmer until potatoes are tender (about 45 minutes). Add water as necessary.  Makes about 10 servings.  It's better the second day because the chile flavor gets stronger overnight. 

So my sister has a problem.  It's pretty serious too.  She gets confused about whichof her kids is where.  So when the school called and told her that her son had a fever, she dutifully grabbed her keys, slid her feet into her sneakers and headed out with her purse and her cell phone. 

Fifteen minutes later, looking into the puzzled expression on her son's face, she realized the awful truth.  She'd picked up the wrong kid.  Now she has a serious dilemma.  Does she take the well kid back to school?  Or just quietly pick up the feverish one and slink home with the matched set. 

Obviously it was more logical to slink.  Well, and use the cell phone to call me and tell me what had happened. 

Cheryl isn't in a 12 step program, but somehow she manages to turn up all kinds of interesting issues for consideration.

The Next Steps

After you figure out that you have a problem and admit that you are powerless over it, the fun part of any 12 step program is over.  I know a lot of people get hung up on that whole admitting they have a problem thing, but I stand by my conviction that this is the easy thing to do.  After all, if you're powerless, it's not your fault.

Spent all the rent money on lottery tickets, I'm powerless, it's not my fault.  Ate your way through a four pound box of donuts?  You were powerless, it's not your fault.  Drank an entire bottle of wine, and then another and another and then you passed out and missed work for three days and lost your job?  Hey, you're powerless, what could they expect. 

That powerless thing, if that were all there were to it, is a great place to be. 

The problem is that all the rest of the steps are about accepting responsibility for your (my) behavior. And that's not so fun.  Let's sit down and make a fearless and searching moral inventory.  You lied to your boss?  It goes on there.  You lied on your taxes?  It goes on there.  You stole money from your parents?  Oh, yeah, that goes on there.  How about you used a person for sex knowing that you didn't care about them and had no intention of ever being vulnerable to them or pursuing a relationship?  It goes on the list.  You abused your family?  Kicked your dog?  Started a trillion dollar war?  Add it to the list. 

And the list isn't the end of it either.  After you make your list you have to read it, out loud, to another human being. 

Even that isn't the worst.  Most people confess to their sponsor who already kind of knows what a sorry human being they are because the sponsor has been there and done all those same things. 

The really hairy part comes when you hit step 9, Baby that's where the rubber meets the road.  At that point you are charged where ever possible to make amends.  That friend that you lied to?  Told him that you loved him and slept with him, got his heart, and then abused your position for some gain?  Now's the time when you have to face yourself and face him and say, "I'm sorry."

You say it without any expectation that he's going to say back, "It's okay, I know you didn't mean it."  Because the confession is that you DID mean it.  You meant to get that person to the point that out of affection for your sorry self, they paid your bills, drove you places, let you move into their home, and gave you free use of their body when you had no intention of ever giving back to them in anything like an equal exchange. 

When you betrayed trust, lied, stole, abused, used, degraded, treated the people in your life as though they were your servants or your furniture there solely for your pleasure and convenience without regard for their feelings, their property, or the impact of your behavior on their lives, you were the only person responsible for your choices and you have to make it right. 

Sometimes, you can't make it right.  Sometimes the person you harmed has moved on, rebuilt a life without you.  And merely seeing you again can stir up old hurts, can negatively impact their new relationships, can cause harm.  Under those circumstances, the only amends you can make is to recognize that while you were wrong to treat them dishonorably in the first place, it would make the wrong greater to treat them again as a means to your end. 

People don't exist for your pleasure to begin with and they don't owe it to you to make themselves available for you to work out your redemption when you crash and burn.

If is is beneficial to your victim to hear your apology, make it.  But if you know that your victim doesn't want to hear it or see you, if you know that the hurt was great or there's a possibility that you might make it worse, you have to live with the fact that you can't make it right. 

Anyone wanna make a mad dash back to the relatively pleasant territory of admitting that you are powerless over your addiction? 

What about those of us who aren't battling an addiction?  What does this all mean to us?  It means that we have just as great a responsibility to be aware of our wrongdoings.  We all screw up.  All of us.  We break a date with our friend because something else came up.  We talk bad about our boss behind his back (except for my best friend who really does have the best boss in the world).  We yell at our kids.  Or we make our kids dependent upon us.  Or we ... lie about our taxes.

To be healthy people, we have to make it right.  When the clerk gives back too much change, we return it to her.  When we take a cart from the grocery store, we put it in the rack so it doesn't create a hazard for the next customer.  When we betray a trust, we apologize and we don't do it again. 

Its hard for me to see myself as other people see me.   I'm the hero of my own story, so I think that the things I do are understandable, forgiveable and most of the time, they are at least amusing if not down right admirable.  Because in my story, I'm not only taller and beautiful, I'm funny and kind. 

The truth may be that I dominate conversations, I focus too much on myself and my own problems, I fail to appreciate the good qualities of my boss, and let my kids eat frozen pizza.

Some things are easily made right.  Some things can never be mended.  A wise, mature, healthy person learns how to figure it out and prays for serenity to accept whichever circumstances are left after everything is said and done.

 

Have you ever had cause to consider a 12 step program?  They are so ubiquitous that even if you aren't personally an addict, you probably at least know the first few steps of the path. 

(I've included a version of the 12 steps below in case you are curious and don't know them.)  The 12 steps were first laid out by Bill Wilson, the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, some 70 years ago.  I've had opportunity when I was counseling psych patients to attend a number of 12 step meetings - AA, Alanon, Sex Addicts Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, Alateen, ... it seems like there are others but those are the ones I can remember.  In every instance, the groups were gracious enough to allow me in the room even though I wasn't an addict myself. 

I found much of the material discussed was helpful to my life.  I made sweeping and unfair generalizations based on the things I heard, but they have been helpful in guiding me through some murky areas.  The first generalization I made was that above all mental, emotional, and spiritual health requires that I be honest with myself about myself.  I must look unflinchingly at my motivations and behaviors.  I must be as transparent as possible.  I must not blame anything, chemical or otherwise for choices I've made.

I haven't had to wrestle with chemical addictions.  (Not because I'm any better than anyone else when it comes to such things, but because I'm simply too cheap.  It's not hard for me to resist something that costs more than I'm willing to spend.  I'll never be an addicted gambler, the mere thought of taking a chance that some game might take my money ... *shudder*). 

But there's always a temptation to blame some circumstance over which I have no control for my behavior.  I am the hero of my own story, and well, really, if someone gets hurt, it just can't possibly be my fault, right? 

People do get hurt.  Sometimes by things I've done or said.  I've been a party to several conversations over the past week that have caused me to stop and think about these things.  About where my responsibility to others ends and my responsibility to myself begins.  See an addict only sees things in terms of his responsibility to himself, to his need for the high.  But a healthy person considers both sides and learns to find balance.

Yesterday there was a rather intense discussion of this principle in my small group meeting after church.  We were considering passages from 1 Corinthians that describe the need to temper our spiritual freedom if the free exercise thereof harms another.  I was reminded of an incident that involved a friend of mine in college.  She was interested in joining a drill team.  But she felt that the uniforms were immodest.  In the end, she did join the drill team because she saw another person, who's moral standards she trusted more than her own, join the team.  But for my friend that was the first of a series of compromises that led her down a path from which she eventually had to undergo a painful recovery. 

(Isn't it wonderful when you can apply spiritual principles to a friend so you don't have to take too close a look at your own life?) 

I learned from that negative example.  I learned that I alone am responsible for choosing my moral path and I alone bear the consequences of those choices.

The second generalization I made was that I am allowed to enjoy my life.  That was was more subtle and it took a little longer for it to grab hold of me.  In fact, up until about ... four years ago ... I didn't have any kind of grasp on this one at all.  I lived as though it were my duty to endure. 

Isn't that sad? 

There's a chance that some time after my death I'll find myself resurrected by the grace of God to enjoy an eternity of spiritual bliss in heaven, but I'll be honest, I don't know anyone who's ever been there who could come back to say, "Hey, it's all for real, come on in the water's fine ..." 

I do believe that the actions we choose on earth have eternal consequences if for no other reason than that the memory of God never fails.  No Alzheimer's, no lack of blueberries in the diet to cloud the essence of what was once upon a time.  If God's going to remember me, I have hope that it will be with some fondness and an occasional chuckle. 

And not because I got it wrong!  (Can't you see God now looking at hundreds of thousands of priests saying "Celebrate!  Guys, the word was Celebrate ...")

For God to think back and smile, I think requires that I be willing to enjoy my life.  That comes from the 12 Promises.  They aren't as well known as the 12 steps ... but hey, I think I'll hunt those up and include them too so you can see them below.  Promises are important.  They are so important that in general, I refuse to make a promise.  Anyone who believes that I've made an implied promise is probably mistaken.  I'm deliberate in my avoidance of promises.  I think "let yes be yes and no be no" and I try not to muddy it up.  I'm either going to do it or I'm not.  A promise doesn't make me any more likely to do anything than I was before, and frankly, I think it waters down the significance of the behavior I choose. 

I don't do things because I've promised to do them, I do them because I choose to invest myself in making it happen.  I do things that increase my happiness, and as a by product, I've noticed that tends to increase the happiness of the people around me.  And here's the kicker, it increases their happiness without making me responsible for their happiness. 

I can't make anyone but me happy.  And the corollary to that is that I don't have the power to ruin any life but my own.  Oh I can change your life.  I changed Tim's life when I married him and again when I divorced him.  I changed the kids' lives when I moved them to New Mexico.  I changed Miss Eve's life (in a smaller way) when I agreed to accept her as a mentor. 

Isn't that wonderful?  Isn't that freeing?

I'm allowed to be happy. 

With or without you. 

I don't have to manipulate you to be in my life.  I don't have to persuade you, convince you, beg you, or please you.  Isn't that cool?  I don't have to be approved by you!  I don't have to impress you with my wit or dazzle you with my brilliance.  I don't have to try to love you so much that you will have to love me back. 

The tenth promise is that fear of economic insecurity will leave ... so I figure I'm on 9 1/2 - not bad. 

12 Promises

1. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.
2. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.
3. We will comprehend the word serenity.
4. We will know peace.
5. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.
6. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.
7. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.
8. Self-seeking will slip away.
9. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.
10. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.
11. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.
12. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

Twelve Steps
1. Admitted that we were powerless over our addiction and that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. That a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3, Made a decision to turn our lives and our will over to God as we understand God.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to God, ourselves and another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Were entirely ready to have God remove these defects of character.
7. Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends.
9. Made direct amends wherever possible except where to do so would cause harm to others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve out contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we carry this message to other addicts, and practice these principles in all our affairs.

I don't watch American Idol so it's something of a surprise that I found myself dreaming that I was a contestant and in fact that I was in the "Final Four" (which, since I DO like College Basketball, makes a little more sense.)

For the past week I've had a number of disturbing and unpleasant dreams.  The kind that have me waking up feeling like I've been beaten up all night.  But last night it was all my show. 

It was Country Night onstage and although that's not my usual cup of tea either, I was ready.  I picked an oldie but goodie, "Seven Bridges Road" and for some reason was allowed a backup singer to cover the harmony line before I took over the melody. 

I felt good.  I looked good (in my dreams I'm always at least 6 inches taller than I am in real life and it's all legs.)  And I sounded great.

I woke up before the judges had their final say.  But they all loved me.  I knew it. 

"I have loved you like a Baby, Like some lonesome child
And I have loved you in a tame way, and I have loved you wild...

There are stars in the Southern sky, and if ever you decide you should go
There is a taste of time-sweetened honey, down the Seven Bridges Road."

Mom, you're looking kind of tired.  Are you tired?

Yes

So if I do something kind of ... wrong ... are you too tired to deal with me?

That depends, what did you do?

I think you may be too tired to hear it, Mom.

My ears aren't tired. 

No, I'm thinking if we talk about this now, you might have to spank me and you're too tired for that.

What did you do?

You just get rested up, Mom.  We'll put it on my bill for now.

** O_o  You know what - I really may be too tired.**