A shift in focus

In the excitement that is building in my house, I find comfort. The crackle of Christmas energy has arrived with much anticipation on the part of two young men that also lay claim to this house -- this home. Christmas this year, in reality the whole year, has been such a growing experience for the entire brood. We have held fast and have managed to come out of the learning curve all intact.

The lack of financial resources has made the traditional gift giving experience, well, an experience. We have learned ... or in some cases relearned ... that it is not about the material items that are exchanged, but the spirit in which the love is renewed.

This is not to say that the gifts that will be exchanged aren't welcome. They are. What began as a meager fare, has increased fourfold due to the charity of others. The traditional children's dance around festive packages, amid ornaments and other holiday paraphernalia, has reached an almost frenzied state. Corners of packages have been carefully lifted and then hurriedly stuck back down -- an attempt to glimpse the forbidden fruit. It seldom works, but does add to the fever of the holiday.

Calls have been made to reach out to others that may be in need of Christmas cheer, and invitations extended to those who have not found a corner of cheer. In our shifted focus, we have found the true meaning of the season ... the great gift of sharing love, and a renewed sense of the greatest gift to us all. That is, the love of an almighty parent, creating a life that will grow into the greatest earthly giver of love and compassion.

Merry Christmas to all.

Ok -- went to dr today. Got so many meds -- my head is spinning. Albuterol is not a good thing to inhale right before bed time, and combined with prednisone also not good.. Got even more new meds today -- no telling what they are doing. I am still wheezing and short of breath. My head says I am tired, but my body is buzzing and is really winning the race. Also, having butter pecan ice cream in the freezer is really baaaadddd. Thank goodness I have kids who had destroyed most of it.

It is past bed time, and I am just buzzing along. Mark made me come upstairs at 10 -- silly him ... so afraid that being in the basement will make me sicker. I was decorating the downstairs Christmas tree with Patrick. I love my Mark and how he takes such good care of me -- even times when I resist. Btw, the dr said I may have COPD -- blech! Like I need one more thing wrong with me. Let's count them -- copd -- maybe, fibromyalgia, arthritis, fat, depression, lichen planus -- and who knows what else. Kind of like the weather here in St. Louis, wait around for a few minutes and it will change.Here's a new fact for you: lichen planus (I have the oral kind -- google it, it's disgusting) causes a metallic taste in your mouth. The taste kind of reminds me of blood, only it doesn't really go away.

To top everything off, I have a meeting with Patrick's "team" at school the Thursday of the week he goes back. I am dreading it. I caused the ball to be in motion; I feel that Patrick's IEP is not being followed in his math class.

Oh -- funny thing -- my dog Walter (remember, he only had 3 legs) has been sleeping on the couch. His head slowly fell of the pillows he was using, which eventually woke him up. He just spent the last few minutes trying to use his front leg to rearrange the pillows. (The red ones we bought a Carrie and Suzie's yard sale.) He laid down again, obviously not comfortable. So then he tired doing the doggy waling in a circle thingy and plopped down again. Still wasn't comfortable, so he got up again. and tried moving the pillows around with his mouth. You guessed it, it still wasn't what he wanted. So he moved to the other end of the couch, and just stared longingly at the pillows. He couldn't take it, so he gets up again and tries to move the pillows with his head -- like trying to pin one down with his one front leg, stay upright, and move the other pillow all at the same time. I finally felt sorry for him and fixed the pillows for him. He is now in a little ball, only on one pillow. I am thinking it is because the other one has too much dog slob on it. Poor three legged baby. No pics, of course because the camera would be in the bedroom, where people with good sense are sleeping.

Stress

Just releasing a bit of stress in the form of a rant.

Life is so difficult right now. Bills are not getting paid. Mortgage is behind. Little to no money for the holidays. Mt health is not in a good place. And my son is having such a hard time at school. There are suitable alternative schools, but they cost money that I don't have and won't be able to have for quite a while. In the meantime, he falls deeper and deeper into his pit. I am not able to think this through . I long to be led in the correct direction.

Scream

In my head there is a bleak darkness, a silent scream. No one knows, because no one hears. It is there though. Boring its way through my body like a worm through dirt.

Because screams are meant to be released, my body reacts. There is pain unlike I have ever known before. Putting on a brave front in order for others not to know how much it hurts, it becomes tornado like. A black cloud swirling out of control, sweeping away everything in it’s path. Sometimes, it slows, almost imperceptible, if the mind can stay busy enough on other things. It never leaves completely; becoming the fringe of the storm like some 60’s poncho edge.

I am asked, “Are you OK?” The reply is often, “I am fine. I just don’t feel well.” It is the truth, of course, but no person knows of the dark tornado waiting to gather speed to rip and tear pulling a house completely from the ground that it previously laid, strong and sure.

The storm cannot be hidden from all. There is the intuitive dog, that comes to lay his head upon my knee, whimpering under his breath. Knowing something is awry, but not knowing what, he dances across the room. Lies and becomes still. In a few moments, he is back, peering into my private space, seeing the fringe of the storm. This time he leans into me with his full weight, as if he can break away a part of the storm to allow just a pinhole of sunlight in. It doesn’t work. Tired from trying, he flops on the floor. His eyes flutter for a moment, then he sleeps.

The storm gathers more energy, trying to gather enough speed to again begin the out of control swirl of darkness. It becomes more and more difficult to keep it at bay. I know before too long, it will spring back to life, whipping and lashing in the futile attempt to release the silent scream.

Sleeping dogs

It all began on a wet and rainy Tuesday afternoon. Looking around at what should be done versus what she wanted to do, Rose chose the later. As usual, the house stayed in the same cluttered messy pattern that was more often typical than not, and Rose early went to the computer. An anxious bubble in her chest, she toyed with the computer, checking her face book account, even pausing long enough to make a couple of updates, before getting before clicking on the icon that would open the word processing program.

There before her lay the snow white page waiting to be filled with her musings. Just like an eager child on Christmas morning, impatient for the wrappings to be torn off the delicious packages nestled under the tree, Rose was filled with the same trepidation as the child: would the words be the gift she really wanted? Pausing only for a few moments, she began the ritualistic tap trapping of the keyboard, allowing the words to flow forth to fill up the page that lay before her.

Her audience for the morning we two sleepy dogs and a cat. None of which cared whether she was tapping away at the computer or cleaning the disheveled house. Their half asleep state interrupted only occasionally by the noise of a nearby car or an exclamation from Rose. They were patiently waiting for their turn, when, weary from the exercise of writing, she would turn her attention on them, scratching behind ears, and perhaps even venturing out with the dogs for a walk around the neighborhood. But for now, they lay like old men on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

But for Rose, her audience was of no importance at the moment. The exercise was to cover the white space that lay before her. It didn’t matter if the result was publication worthy or not, only that the words made it onto the page.

Often, she would muse about her life and of opportunities missed. In her struggle to maintain a balance in her life that masked the insanity she felt always bubbling just beneath the surface, she would revisit those lost times. They would be examined; dissected like a frog in a biology class, in order to discover their deeper meaning. She hadn’t arrived at this place walking down a petal strewn path. No. Her path was uneven and rocky, barely a path at all in many places.

Sometimes, it would be so garbage filled that it was all she could do to keep breathing; her existence only that of the breath and placing of one foot in front of the other. It was during these times that the path became invisible, and the insanity was allowed to spew forth, like some molten lava from a long dormant volcano.

Chaos would replace the normal. It could take months before the path reemerged from under the piles of garbage. Slowly, with a great deal of effort, Rose would begin looking for pieces of the path, anything to let those around her know that she was emerging from the chaos once again.
Hours turned into days, which turned into years. Rose began to realize that she was gaining some wisdom with the unrelenting march of years. It came out of no where, like a rainbow appearing after endless days of gray sky. Sometimes, it came in the form of a gift -- an unexpected conversation with an old friend or an even older soul. Whatever the method of acquisition, Rose began to scoop up the bits of wisdom that she would find, and try to apply them to her own existence, much like one trying to fit together the parts of a jig-saw puzzle.

It was on that one rainy Tuesday afternoon that Rose realized that instead of looking backward, trying to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together, that she should be spending at least some of her time looking forward, and learn how to read that path before stumbling down it, and caution should be taken when running head on into a pack of dogs. For sometimes, if you let sleeping dogs lie, the end result is a well rested dog.

Reflection

Listening to a variety of music this morning -- and, as usual, drift back to Michael Jackson. If you are not a fan, you should really listen to some of his music -- like Heal the World, Man in the Mirror, Black or White, and You are Not Alone for starters. He had a message, and it is now for us to pick up and carry on regardless of personal feelings for him.

The message -- to take care of each other and our planet -- is perhaps needed more than ever before. Check out the news -- pick up a paper, listen to the radio, watch it on TV. We are a violent planet. We are a violent nation. I live in the St. Louis metropolitan area. Each night on the news, there are more gang wars, more people destroyed in my own backyard.

Has life always been this way? With the internet, we can catch things just as they are happening, and we see globally each night on television. Is it just because of this instant access that gives us pictures that we have never has access to before. My husband and children love history. It seems that since the time the Europeans first came to what we now know of as the USA, we have been a violent people.

Native Americans helped those first settlers to survive. In hindsight, it was a terrible decision on their part. We, collectively, have reduced their numbers until some tribes no longer exist. Things have not changed much since that time. A lot of the violence stems from greed. We want what we don't have. More money, more power, more things is the message that is continually broadcast.

That is why the words sung by Michael Jackson are so important. Listen to his broader message. Stop fighting. Stop hounding people to the point that their lives seem to spin out of control. Stop buying needless things to stuff our houses until they seem to burst at the seems. Just STOP. Replace anger, violence, greed ... with love, compassion, giving. One by one we can make those needed changes.

the dance

Sitting in the now quiet house, ideas begin to flow like electric current to a light bulb. How to get them to their destination becomes the issue, as the often half formed ideas flit about in a haphazard fashion. Some begging to be released, while others cling to the corners as if they are afraid to be released in the time tested tradition of pen to paper.

Plagued by self doubt, the writer pecks at the keyboard for a few moments, then drifts as eyes stray to the pencil, standing almost stoically in the kitten covered mug that is spending its eternity as a pencil holder. Often, it is not the tap tap of the keys on the keyboard, but the drag of the pencil across the paper that enables the thoughts to be released and allowed to flow unimpeded across the pages of the notebook. It is the dance of the writer, performed to an audience of sleeping children, pets, and the often neglected husband. Sleep comes easily to them, but not the writer.

Until most recently, the inability to fall into the same sleeping patterns like the other members of the house was seen as a detriment. Something to rant against when engaged in conversation with others, and a reason for taking the offerings of the family healer. This masking provided a sense of normalcy to the writer, and was not taken for the gift that was. The gift that it is. For it is in these moments that the dance begins, and the stories unfold.

A life well lived

Live every day as if it were your last. If the old adage is followed, at the end of life's journey, one should be able to feel that their life has been well lived. Just exactly though, does one live life well? It would seem that if followed, the result would either be a happy well adjusted individual or a narcissist. The fine line comes, I think, in the feelings of those with whom that life is shared.

It speaks to the character of a person when those sharing the same space are living a happy and fulfilling life. This is not to say that all days are filled with wine and roses. Real life is not that way. Staying focused on wrapping tendrils of positive energy around one's self and others does lead to that well-lived life.

To that end, being surrounded by positive, uplifting people make the life journey an easier road. My list of these people has recently expanded thanks to the explosion of social networking sites. One such person if my brother's ex-wife. Only appearing in my life at a young age, and then disappearing quickly, it was years before our paths would cross. Thanks to our cyber universe, she has gently wound herself around my heart. She is a voice of experience and wisdom, and a sister who was missing from my life for far too long.

A family sharing life and love and friends that have become more like siblings than my own provide an environment for those positive energy tendrils to wrap around the hearts of all involved. While not exactly living each day as if it were my last, I am -- finally -- living my life well.

Ghosts and the long and winding road

As usual, when it is time to go to bed, my head runs in different directions, and I find myself often not wanting or, at other times, not able to fall asleep. On this particular night, I found myself thinking of past ghosts that seemed to rise from nowhere and fill the inky blackness of my bedroom. Awash in the memories and unable to sleep, I found my way to the computer.

With a click of a mouse, the computer hummed to life under my finger tips, and I found myself stroking the keys in a mad rush. I found a friend, an old soul from years gone by, willing to listen and provide much needed wisdom. It was during this discourse that I came face to face with the ghosts of the parents I wish I had versus the material being.

In recounting life events that could have been, I pondered where the steps toward the pothole filled road could have been averted, and a more even and stable road taken instead. What impact could have been made by open lines of communication between parent and child? Is this conflict between ghosts and shadows of what could have been a legacy that must be fulfilled?

Thoughtful and thought provoking answers were provided. My friend’s wisdom and honesty helped some old ghosts find a resting place. Other ghosts, although not vanishing completely, were calmed. I found myself looking at truths that I had not expected to find. Perhaps all of this answer seeking madness is really a juxtaposition of the parenting I received and my own parenting skills. One truth is that most children grow up and away from their parents, regardless of how they were parented.

The road begins the same – away from the parental nest. What appearance the road takes next can be altered to some extent by the type of parenting the child received while still in that nest. Indifferent parenting can almost guarantee a difficult path. Choosing to be an active and involved parent may seem to lead to a harder road in the short term, but the adult road is more even and easily travelled. This produces fewer ghosts to deal with on sleepless nights.

Reflection, November 7

Stress and frustration hang over me like some distant rain cloud, which threatens at each moment to spill it’s wet drops. The more I fight against it, the closer it comes, until I just give in and allow myself to be enveloped in it’s inky darkness. My body is showing the effects of the battle, with skin that is freckled with an acne outbreak, and a bloat that resembles an overfilled balloon.

It is hard to move past the obvious signs to what lies festering just beneath the surface. The aches and pains of multiple illnesses claw and gouge their way in, making me rail against them one moment, and give in the next. This continual see sawing fight is wearing on me, allowing for raw nerves to edge ever closer to surface. It doesn’t take much for emotions to come tumbling out, one over the other as my family watches in a shocked disbelief.

Relief comes in small waves of medication and sleep. It becomes a crazy cycle that I can’t break free of.

November 1, 2009 -- Reflection

I was once told that the most successful of people spend a few moments at the end of the day reflecting over their day -- what went well and how to correct what went wrong. I had some things that went well, but I am feeling that many of the things of today didn't go so well.

I know I am a glass half empty person, and tend to look on the ark side of things. This is a protective mechanism that I learned when I was small. If you look at things from the point of view of what is the worst thing that could happen, then if something better did happen, then that was all gravy. It is how I have lived my whole life.

So now here I am, looking on the down side of my 40s, and in the wink of an eye, 50 will be knocking at my door. The cranky lady on the streets seems to be looming in my future, as that door seems to grow ever larger and closer. She reared her ugly head today at the moment when my house needed peaceful soothing tones, there was screeching and loud tones. Time for being in bed has come and gone, yet I remain awake -- trying to still that screechy scratchy voice and calm the wretch of a lady that looms so ever-present within the walls of this house.

Allowing the quiet rumblings of night time flow like soft tendrils reaching up from the tan mass that covers the floor teases , giving glimpses of a calm so longed for, yet held at bay by invisible strands that need their own time of reckoning. So as thoughts of the days wrongs try to work themselves into soft pillowing clouds that would have eased much of the sting that was felt by the hot voices that allowed them to flow forth in the first place, the longed for calm does begin the edge its way in. The promise of a new day allows for the those tendrils to take hold.

Twilight Saga

I just finished the last book in the Twilight saga. My entry title is a link to the author's site for those interested in finding out more about Stephanie Meyer and/or the series. I know there has been a lot of excitement regarding this series as well as the movie(s) that correspond to the novels.

I wouldn't have chosen this series to read, regardless of the excitement, if it hadn't been for my son Jacob. It was his birthday wish to buy the first three novels, which were the only ones available at the time. He got them for his birthday. All of the books were lengthy, but Jacob devoured them, reading the first in only two or three days. It was his excitement that sparked my interest. And so I read each as he finished -- pleading and begging him not to divulge any information that wasn't specifically requested. Then there was the long wait on the St. Louis county library listing for the final book of the series.

All of the books were well worth the read. I initially wasn't going to endorse breaking dawn, because I didn't like the deviation in point of view, but after lapping up the final pages, I changed my mind. It is well worth the read. Stephanie Meyer was a winner right out of the block, and continued through to the end.

It is with my own excitement that I found that there will be more books to add to the series. While the original set of books were told from Bella's point of view (save for that strange deviation in book 4), there is a companion book in the making. The story told from Edward's point of view. I with my own excitement over the news that she is continuing the story. It will definitely be on my must read listing.

I encourage anyone interested in Twilight to begin at the Stephanie Meyer web site. It will give insight into her extraordinary imagination as well as the series. If you love a good story well told, then this is a great series for you. If you have not heard the buzz of the books (and I can't imagine how anyone could have missed that train by now), you must know that that this is not your average tale of vampires and shape shifters. It is a story of young love, of blending of families, and good versus evil.

On a larger scale, the tale can be changed from vampires and shape shifters to racial, religious, political, etc., views that are not our own. The tale is as old as time itself when looked at on a broader context. There have been and perhaps always will be a lack of understanding and acceptance of those that are perceived to be different from ones self. Perhaps by reading this series, people might understand this same message, and are challenged to look at their views in another light, then Ms. Meyer not only has entertained with her saga, but has broadened minds and struck another chord for oneness.

Musings

So many things flitting in and out of my heard. Mark and I went to parent/teacher conferences for Patrick last night. We found out some valuable information, and I made some decisions about what teachers I don't like dealing with. I must say that most of them were very nice and helpful. After years of these things, I took my binder of information; the only thing that was really helpful was the addendum to his IEP. Teacher meetings are always valuable. Absorbing the information provided and deciding which pieces to use are really helpful. I certainly need to blog about these communications. I am very lucky to have been on both sides of the table -- as a teacher and a parent. Very useful 2 1/2 hours.

Next -- Jacob has taken to chewing on things. Much like a teething baby. I am sure it helps him with his OCD and Asperger's, but he chews on things a lot -- and sometimes inappropriate things. He has chewed on electrical cords, tv remotes, cups, plates, toys, paper, his clothes, his book bag, his hands ... you name it, if it is in our house, it has probably been in his mouth. I try to correct when I see him chewing, but I don't seem to be making any headway with him. His face is all broken out -- I am sure to his hands and heaven knows what else always being on his face while chewing. Any ideas on how to curb this?

Michael Jackson -- Jacob and I have tickets reserved for the This Is It movie. We are really looking forward to it. At the same time, I am very sad about how everyone seems to be trying to make a buck off his death.I know that I am saying this while admitting at the same time I am furthering this madness with my movie ticket purchase. I hate that Sony Records, is making so much money off of MJ, when they were so nasty to him while he was alive. I am also unhappy about the people who would not and did not support him while he was alive, but are quick to jump on the bandwagon to dish dirt and hand out posthumous awards. I am thinking the only redeeming thing may be that his children learn how much their father was loved, and although some of the adoration seems false -- they are young enough to believe what they see, and all they will know was that their father was adored by many. I am a fan, and will always be a fan. I am just sad that he died at such a young age.

As for fibromyalgia, it is really bothering me. I am in a big hurt, but nothing seems to help. I surely don't have a clue as to what to do about this. I have gone to therapists, doctors, rhuematologists, neurologists, chiropractors. I seem to be really at a standstill right now -- neither progressing or moving backward. Just being.

The Elephant in the Room

I don't feel well. I don't know if it is fibromyalgia, the flu again, or just whatever. It makes me cranky, and I hate it . It causes me to push people away, because just having them nearby irritates me. I am very unpleasant to be around. I try to explain this to my family.

I try to explain this to Jacob, who stays close to my side lately. I am sitting on the bed after calling my rhumetologist. I don't get the answers that I want from him. Perhaps because there are no answers. My temper flares a bit at his suggestion to go to the emergency room, when I clearly stated that I cannot afford to do so. He says that they would only give me more narcotics to ease the pain. I know from experience that if I can get on top of my pain -- even for just a few minutes, I can handle it so much better.

So -- back to Jacob. He is being silly in my room trying to be silly and make me feel better. I try to explain as nicely as I can that I don't feel well, and his antics are just annoying me. Perhaps there is no good way to say it. Jacob keeps fining reasons to be in here, each time though I am getting more frustrated with him. What I want to do is yell as loud as I can for everyone to get the fuck away from me until I can come to terms with this pain. I don't. I know how words can hurt. I finally tell Jacob that he has to leave -- he seems to understand that he is annoying me -- from the other 5 times I have ask him to stop -- explaining how his silliness on my bed is getting under my skin.

He leaves -- although he clearly doesn't want to. He goes outside. I feel emotionally horrible. He just loves me and wants to make me happy. It is a hard thing for both of us. I don't know how other people deal with situations like this. I am so open to suggestions. I try so stay welcoming to my children even though I don't feel that way under my skin. I love them and know that they only want to express love back. It is me that I have to change -- I want no wedges between us.

This Is It

I stayed up until midnight last night in order to purchase tickets for me and Jacob to attend This Is It. The movie isn't going to hit until next month, but the tickets were released last night. I am really happy that I was able to get the tickets. Jacob and I both are Michael Jackson fans.

I still can't get over the fact that he is not here any longer. There are a lot of other celebrities that have passed also, but none have affected me in the way that this death has. I have been listening to his music, and found a lot that I wasn't even aware of. It is moving and profound -- he had a great desire to do things to make this world a better place. I am saddened that so much negative press clouded his last few years. In fact, the first alleged victim of sexual abuse retracted his statement last night. Said he couldn't live with the fact that it was all a lie created by his father. $22 million by Michael to settle out of court, and that led the way for another person to bring charges against him. Makes me sick to my stomach that people can use someone like that. It is so wrong.

There are many thing that are wrong with our society. Perhaps that is what I am agonizing over. I know others believe allegations brought against Mr. Jackson, but I surely don't. If you read the transcripts of the second court case, it is full of holes. I can't believe that there are people that are so -- just so evil that they could even think of torturing and vilifying another person, but that is what was done to Michael Jackson.

Now that he is dead, people are scampering all over to make a profit off his death. I thought long and hard before deciding to purchase tickets to the documentary/movie. I am going simply because I want to see for myself the videos of his last weeks -- I think being able to see inside his head -- watching how he creates the whole mystique ... Well, I think he is brilliant, and I want to see inside of that world. It is something that he seldom let fans see. At the same time, I don't think this is trodding on his memory as some others fave chosen to do.

I have also been thinking what his world must have been like. How someone who seems to have so much could really just have so little. He was insecure, didn't trust people because he had been taken advantage of over and over. He was an abused child -- I can so relate to that, and how that misery can shape your life when you are an adult.

revalations

Patrick Swayze passed away yesterday. I am sad about that. He seemed to be such a kind soul -- staying out of the fray of mainstream Hollywood. I can't ever recall him saying anything negative -- not one thing. I am sure he did, but he kept himself somehow apart from the Hollywood circus. Perhaps a gentleman and a gentle man. He hadn't even reached 60, but somehow I get the feeling that he felt as ease with his passing -- not leaving behind a trail of life unlived or things undone. Speedy passage to him.

Other notables have passed recently also. Farrah Fawcett -- she railed against the cancer that eventually took her. She was older than Mr. Swayze, but I feel as if she fought so hard perhaps because of her son. As a mother of my own troubled children, I know that she could not have passed easily knowing that her son had yet again fallen prey to his addictions. Redmond is lucky to have his father still, but Ryan battles his own demons.

Walter Cronkite -- there was a man who lived life fully. Although we may miss him, there doesn't seem to be a trail of things left undone or messes that need to be cleaned in order for him to pass easily.

Items left undone and messes to be cleaned. Little children left without their father. Hundreds of cast and crew members plus an entourage left suddenly and unexpectedly without a job. That is just a part of what Michael Jackson left behind when he was murdered.

As a parent, I feel for all children when their parents pass, but it is somewhat more comforting when the children are grown and have a set of coping skills to deal with the loss. This isn't the case of Paris, Prince, and Blanket. Stories flow over the internet of Blanket not understanding his father's death, and crying each night asking for his Daddy.

I know this isn't the only case of children left suddenly without the presence of parents, but it is full force in your face, and it leaves me with a sick feeling in my stomach. These children who have been in the spotlight since birth, have been thrust into another world. While the measures their father took to protect them from the circus that he lived in as a child may seem extreme or strange to us, I am know that protective nature that can overwhelm a parent in an attempt to keep their child safe.

Last night on the news, there was a video feed of a child being beaten on a bus -- and the cheering throng of students egging it on. No bus driver was seen in the clip. Where was that adult that was supposed to protect the child? What kind of sick society do we still live in that allows for that type of behavior. If you watch the video closely, there appears to be one child in the back of the bus filming the incident on his phone. There are other children cheering and clapping, and yet other children engaging in the fight -- seemingly taking turns.

The newscaster said that the fight was racially motivated. Whatever the reason for the altercation, it only spreads light on the problems of our youth. Our society has slid so sideways that children think this is acceptable behavior; that it is a circus for them to enjoy. Such as with the death of Michael Jackson -- his family and friends were not allowed to mourn -- it was a circus with media coverage of each tear shed. What has happened to us to make us so callous to the feelings of others -- and for those of us who sit on the sidelines watching it all unfold like some type of voyeur allowed a peak into the soul of others.

I do not claim to understand or know what the answer or answers are. What I know is that we have allowed extreme behavior to become the norm for our society. We flock to the television to watch reality shows and eagerly climb into the fray instead of trying to correct what is wrong. We must begin to civilize our society. Take joy in the happiness of others; fight back when something is wrong; give instead of take; and begin to take back the civilized society that is slipping away from us all.

9/11 and other things

Lots of things today. First -- 9/11/01 -- unless you are a child, most likely you remember the events of that tragic day. We all have our memories; I was doing day care when Mark called me to tell me to turn the TV on. It was horrible. I called him later because I was in a panic. I wanted my boys with me, so he went to their school to get them and bring them to me. I honestly thought the whole country was going to be targeted, and I thought St. Louis would be a likely choice. I wanted my family close.

I have put a link to The Falling Man. It will make you think -- I do have to warn you that there are some gut wrenching things in the video (it is also a book, by the way -- of the same name). Very thought provoking.

Second -- I am tired of being broke. Today, Patrick called me from school and asked that I bring him $1. (He takes a bit of money every day to buy a slice of cheese for his sandwich.) I had to tell him no. It hurt. I know he will be fine, but it really bothers me that I have to be so cost conscious. I don't have much gas in my car, so I am saving it. In addition, I really don't have the money to give to him. It is just the little things like this that make me sick to my stomach. I am 46 years old, and I just don't think life should be this gut wrenching.

I know there are a ton of people that have it worse. I do count my blessings. I guess I just don't like to have to tell my kids no, especially when it shouldn't be a big thing.

I have a friend that has been helping me out by sending food and household items to me. I recieved a box yesterday and realized that I am out of places to store the food. I am grateful that I know such a kind and giving person; I did tell her that I have run out of storage room. At any rate, I decided to give back to the food pantry that helped me out several times when there wasn't enough food to last all month. So I went through my pantry and took out items that I already had several of or that I thought would not be consumed. Three bags -- my boys helped me and we just took it in and handed it to them. It did feel good to be able to give back just a bit, and I think the boys were proud to help out too. Now, if only I could figure out a way to turn good deeds into money! That isn't really how I feel -- good deeds are done for the sake of being charitable.

I will stop here for now. I have some cleaning that I need to get done before I have to pick up my boys today. I do hope that the video is watched and that time is set saside, if only for a moment, to remember that we have our freedoms at the expense of others.

Health Care Reform

I am an Obama supporter. I think his heath care initiatives are on the right track. I believe it is important for all Americans to have access to health care. I know personally how one's health can make or break a family. I am one of those families that are in financial ruin because of poor health.



I agree that there shouldn't be caps on health insurance. If someone becomes terribly ill, like my own beloved aunt for example, it can eventually tear everything she had worked for her entire life, away from her.



I like what I am hearing. I like that everyone will have access to health care. I like that health insurance companies will be held accountable for dropping consumers when they become high risk. I like that insurance companies would not be allowed to refuse policies for those with pre-existing conditions.



I especially like that he wants to reform the system that doesn't allow care for the poorest of our country. We, as a people, have a responsibility to those who cannot provide for themselves, whether that involves health care or any other expenses.



I also like that he is looking at waste in health care -- and in business in general. I agree that the spending on health care should not increase our country's deficit. We have created monsters that lurk around the corner with our present health care.

Michael Jackson

Michale Jackson was finally laid to rest last night. His body is in a mausoleum that is not open to the public. I am sure that is the best thing for his family; they can go to see him without being troubles with throngs of adoring fans.

I still am having a hard time accepting that he is really gone. It isn't that I am such a fan -- I mean, I am, but -- as I have said before -- his presence has always been in the background of my life -- ever since I can remember. As a child, there was Michael and the Jackson 5. When I was in college, he was just embarking on his solo career -- and he was a hit in the dorm that I lived in. From then on, there was his music -- his dance moves -- his is energy -- his life, running consistently in the background. No matter what I was going through -- there he was. And that has always been the case.

Now he is gone. The last part of my youth is gone. There will never be a smash concert series by him or any chance to see him perform live. Wasted chances that I always thought I would be able to change -- many of them are gone. I need to face my life and recognize that there are limited chances. Michael will not be able to see his children grow into adulthood. He won't even be there to help them through pre-teen angst. I ache for his children. I am glad that their father was put to rest last night, so they can move forward. I hope that they someday realize -- even though there were things in his life that I am sure he could change -- don't we all have those though -- Michael Jackson was a larger than life star. He began performing at age 5, and his whole being was creating the music and moves that defined him. As chis children grow up without their father, my generation grows old without our icon. So sad...

Sept. 4, 2009

I am listening to the Michael Jason album Bad that my Jacob ripped to the computers for me. Such an awesome young man.

It has been a while -- that seems to be my song of life lately. I can't seem to get myself on a schedule. I am working on it. I think the longer the boys are in school that the more I will be able to schedule myself. As for now though, I am making lists that I need to get through each day, and hoping to get through them in one day.

My boys going back to school has been -- well, not awful for me or them, but there have been some rough patches. Patrick was being bullied -- note that I said was -- there was a boy in one of his classes that talked ugly to him all of the time and just pushed Patrick around. Patrick finally got angry at the system -- he was doing the right things like telling mom and telling teachers -- it didn't stopped the boy -- so Patrick stabbed him with a pencil. Of course, Patrick got sent home for three days -- a vacation to him as the school has a policy of waiting three days before they will send work home. Long story short is that the boy is leaving Patrick alone -- and are some other kids that were bothering his friends. I am not an advocate of fighting, but sometimes, you just have to show a person who is boss. Patrick has switched his classes around a bit -- one of the math classes was too easy, so he switched to higher level, and that sort of thing. He is walking a tight rope now -- school still overwhelms him. He goes into the rest room and cries when it gets too much, but he is staying at school -- and doing his work.

Jacob is having a good time. I think being the big dog -- in 8th grade -- gives him a bit of confidence that he hasn't had before. He is doing well in all classes -- and even admits to liking some of them! He is actively participating in gym -- something that he hasn't always done, and is achieving a measure of success. He talks of the softball game that he made a hit and got on base, and eventually scored a run with it. he said it felt great! He even likes the "mean" teacher that most other kids don't like. Jacob says that he likes the things that he is teaching and the way he allows the students to be an active participant.

And my Ashton -- he stays close in my heart. I wish that we lived closer -- or that he lived closer -- so we could get to know him better. He made an impact on our family and had to leave all too soon. As for the other Texas children -- well, Alicia is working and going to school. Such a good girl, and I am so very proud of her. Now if she would just stop smoking ... And Trevor, well, he is Trevor. Doesn't share details hardly with me. I only hear if something is bad --

The life of a mother

I know I haven't posted in a while. I don't have any excuse, except that I have been playing games on-line instead of writing. I know -- not taking advantage of my free time as I should.

Times are a chanin' in the Bradley house. Over the summer, there was an addition to the Bradley house hold. Seems that Mark had a child in San Antonio -- he is 15, and a great kid. His mother purchased a plane ticket for him to fly up here to meet us. It was a great time and we loved him. We sure didn't want him to go home. Lots of thoughts flew around after he made that initial call. The bottom line is that we love him, and he loves us.

I sure had some strange feelings at first though. Is he really Mark's son? Are we going to have to pay child support? What does the boy really want? The thing is -- the boy only wants to know his family. We are planning our next visit. The boys really like him, and look up to him. He is family in every sense of the word.

My kids have also started back to school. It is interesting, as Patrick is in high school now. It hasn't been an easy road. He is so negative about it -- even though he really likes some of the classes, and loves being with his friends -- and it is high school. That is very cool. However, Patrick is really having a difficult time fitting in. The social aspect of things is really getting to him. In fact, he was in an altercation with another child -- Patrick received a 3 day out of school suspension. The asst. principal was very lenient. He could have given Patrick up to ten days.

I can't do this again this year. I don't know what I am going to do with my son. I really don't want to consider other options, but I am beginning to think that there is no other choice. Patrick can't handle social situations. I look at him, and see his tender hearted boy that is so ferociously loyal to his friends and those he loves acting like some punk city kid who was never taught behavior options. It scares me. What will become of him if he can't figure out how to do this? I just don't know. I see him leaning toward violence as a option, but I think that is wrong. No -- I know that is wrong. I just don't have the strength to do this.

Exercise and Me

I have been having a hard time with my fibromyalgia lately. I hurt. I had been working out with Jacob, who is going to play football when school starts. It is hard! Today, I could not do hardly any of the exercises. I just am in too much pain -- even with Darvocet and Fexeril. I wish I could afford to go to the chiropractor, as it was really helping me. I saw Roseanne at Dr. Ron Archanati's Sports Medicine office. I really am trying to press through the pain, but it is really difficult. It takes all of the energy I can muster. Even two hours later, my muscles are quivering, and I am more than maxed out on pain medications. I still take them. Seriously thought about the ER, but don't have the money. So frustrating.

If fighting the pain and the tiredness isn't enough, I am trying to pack up the basement. Mark scored some free floor covering. The boys are helping, but we just really don't have anywhere to put anything. In addition, I am trying to go through things for a yard sale on Saturday. We just have to have some income.

Friday, July 17

Random musings

Jacob is talking to me as I type. He has been reading the encyclopedia, and is just rambling. I know I should actively listen to him. The truth of the matter is that people with Asperger's Syndrome think that everyone is as interested in everything that they are interested in. It is a part of the social skill they lack -- they simply don't understand or even believe that other people simply don't have the exact same interests that they do. I used to listen to him, but he often just drones on and on.

Perhaps I need to go to a support group. In reality, I am sure it would help me, but -- well, I don't really have a reason that I don't find one and just go. It used to be that I was just too busy, but that isn't my reality any longer. I just don't even have the energy.

Mark is in bed already. I didn't spend more than 10 minutes with him today. He did ask if anything was wrong with me, but I told him that I was OK. Fact is, I am just bone tired. I know with the fibromyalgia, it makes me tired all of the time, but this is different. I feel mentally tired also. Part of what makes me tired is that Mark doesn't understand my fatigue. I have tried all sorts of things to give me more energy. I have changed our diet. I am trying to be more physically active. I have tried Ritalin, and when that didn't work well, the doctor switched me to Adderall. That works a bit, but I can't sleep when I take it. I find myself getting so tired that I can't concentrate on anything. It is just a big circle of crazy.

Football and my child

I am proud of my son. Jacob is in the middle of summer camp for football, and wants to be on the football team for nest year (his 8th grade year). I couldn't be any happier.

When Jacob is our on the field, it is easy to see his Autistic traits. He doesn't exactly blend in well all of the time. He is hanging in there though, and now wants to be on the Middle School team this year. I am so proud of my child. I secretly cheer him on during every move. I feel for him each time he falls to the back of the pack when running, and and excited for him when he does a move correctly and gets a pat on the back from the coaches.

Things are going to be all right. I am hoping Jacob will learn he has more strength and determination in him than he knows. What ever happens -- he is part of a greater team, and I am quite proud of him.

A Contemporary

I have had days to reflect on the loss of Michael Jackson. His death has affected me in a profound way. It has made me more thankful for my family. I can't wrap my head around his children -- and the loss that they must be feeling. There is so much trash television about him now; I hope his children are protected from the frenzy that has overtaken the media.

My own feeling of loss is because Michael was a contemporary. Just a few years older than me, he has been a constant. My world has spiraled in so many directions, and through it all -- there was Michael and his music -- and those wonderful, crazy dance steps of his.

A Day Removed

As I sit here, a day removed from the Michael Jackson memorial, I can't help but look back to some of the more vivid moments: Reverend Al Sharpton thanking Michael for the barriers broken, Brooke Shields discussing her friendship ... to Paris just trying to let us know that Michael was the best daddy.

How strong he must have been as a father to show his children such stoicism. As a world together, we have sent our blessings to his family. We have shown them how much we cared, but what I keep thinking of is his three children - Prince, Paris, and Blanket - who don't have a life time of memories, but rather a scant few years to have enjoyed the love of their daddy. My heart aches for their loss -- and it doesn't matter how many videos or sound recordings there are of their father -- they will never be able to feel the arms of their daddy any longer. And for this, I am so sorry. For I have no doubt that it was the collective us that caused him to live a life that we cannot begin to understand -- and caused his death while he still had small children. Everyone who bought a tabloid or watched for a glimpse of him on the latest sleeze tv or thought that they knew him when we were really so far removed -- shame on us.

A lighter View

While I was at home sobbing to Paris Jackson trying to honor her father, my husband was at Ladue Crossing meeting Lou Brock, and receiving an autographed photo. Mr. Brock was one of the two baseball heroes of my youth -- the other being Curt Flood. A very good afternoon for Mark as he was allowed to meet this baseball legend.

Michael Jackson

The hardest thing today -- Paris Jackson pleading for her Daddy to know that she loves him, and that he was the best Daddy. I can't imagine what her life was like being the daughter of Michael, who wasn't allowed to be a "regular" person. My heart just goes out to all of his children -- Paris, Prince, and Blanket. I feel for all of his family, but most for the children. The simple love of a child for her Daddy.

More Michael

I have never been a fan of Al Sharpton, but I do appreciate his words during this celebrations Of Michael Jackson's life. It is touching to hear and see all of these people who just spread love so much to his family. A fan or not, one must respect the love being shared.

Michael

I am saddened by the death of Michael Jackson. I am a fan. I feel the swirl of frenzy that surrounds him -- that even in death he is not given perhaps the respect that he deserves. I know of the bad things the have seemed to drape him like a cape in the last few years. I wasn't there, so I can't claim to say one way or the other what he did in his private life.

However, I can choose to believe that he was one of the most fascinating performers in my lifetime. I believe he was a musical genius. He was music -- in his words, in his dance, in all that surrounded him. He was that puff of something that inspired us to sing and dance and create music. I love his music. I love the way he moved. I loved him. He has been a part of my life. I can remember my Michael Jackson moments -- listening to his music throughout my life. Seeing dance students perform his dance routines. I will miss his inspiration. I will miss the force that was Michael Jackson. I hope he finds the peace and happiness that he always seemed to be searching for when he was with us.

July 4, 2009

Patriotism to one's country -- isn't that what is supposed to be the prevailing mood today? Not in my house. In my house, we are still reeling from the addition of 15 year old Ashton -- a child fathered by Mark during his wild oat-sowing San Antonio years. We claim him; we love him. We ache for the years that we were not involved with him, but, at the same time, give praise to his San Antonio parents who have kept him on a straight and narrow path.

Our San Antonio children, Alicia and Trevor, have had the great fortune of meeting Ashton as well as his family. They have been made to feel warm and welcome. It is a great ride that we are on as a family. We welcome our new addition with open arms and open hearts, and praise his San Antonio parents for being so open and loving.

Welcome to our family -- Ashton.

Ashton

I found out a few days ago that there is another child in our family. Ashton is 15 -- and was just told that his biological father is Mark. There is no doubt in my mind that he is Mark's child.

I have been communicating with Ashton since that time. He is a charming and handsome young man. I was initially a bit shaken, but not any more. I am just glad to have him in our family.

I think it took a lot for his parents to have the courage to tell him. I don't know what I would do in that same situation. At any rate, I am glad to have him and look forward to getting to meet him in person and to get to know him better.

Thoughts for Tuesday

I am wondering -- how many others out there spend time ruminating about times past and friendships gone by the wayside. I am heavily a facebook fanatic -- approaching the need for a 12 step program! I have connected with others in a way I thought not possible, have been able to renew acquaintances, and even made some new friends, At the same time, I think about how I could be in a better place right now if I hadn't given up the chances that slipped so easily through my fingers.

But each day is a new chance, but I don't seem able to get past the cloud that I am under. I am having a problem putting all of the baggage behind me. Perhaps that is the wrong thing. Perhaps the problem is not putting things behind me, but looking only at today and what I can accomplish on this day. Shaking loose the baggage that often seems to swell over me is difficult, as is facing each new day as an opportunity to use. Lesson : more opportunity - old baggage = unending possibilities.

In my head

I find that I am having some difficulty sleeping tonight. I am frightened. Tomorrow I am having an MRI done of my brain. It is the second time I have had this done, but the first time in a closed bed. In additioin, I hav having this prcedure done, plus two others (to be done on the 19th)because my doctors believe that I have impaired cognitive functio. That may be true -- and what I am really afraid of is that they will discover a irreversible and progressive problem -- like ALzheimer's disease.

There I said it. In black and white, I have admitted my greatest fear. My rheumatalogist believes tha I haver significan't enough issues to warrant a referral to a neurologist and she, in tuirn, believes their is enough question to complete a battery of tests. And I am frightened.

My husband is running scared. We have had huge blow out fights -- rare in our union. They are scarey to be in the middle of. In my house, everyone is walking around on tippy toes. I pull my fear in close and wrap it tightly around me, as if it will offer some sort of protection. I try to avoid words like progressive and degenerative. I try t9o bury myyself, but the only things I have are my children -- God,, I have to keep them close now, and my worst enemy right now -- food. My children are facing adult decisions as they try to pretect and comfort me from the not-so-hidden heated words that pass between my husband and me.

The previous calmness of my house has become a war zone filled with frustration and dread. Medications cause my weight to balloon -- 50 pounds in two months. I feel as though if I am pierced with a pin, I will explode into slimy oozy gobs.

Medical bills continue to soar. Don't know about payment, because everything goes to only the most basic items. There is talk of discontinuing phones, and satellite television. The children have long since given up allowances and the random treat. Things like feeding our pets become issues that I thought ...

In the meantime, I sit at my computer at 3 something, pouring out more of my story to a mostly unread and passed over blog. Just putting felling down in words will have to suffice. The vastness of cyberspace precludes a large followership. I suppose it is OK -- like so many other things that just have to be what they are, I wrap myself in my blanket of fear and sit -- as usual, alone.

Life with Fibromyalgia

Good golly I could use a break. Mark came home so angry last night -- it was 100% directed at me. Even though he apologized, his sharp words still hurt. I just can't handle being treated like that. I discovered that being so upset only causes my fibro to flare.

I am a mess today. I feel awful that my boys have been brought into this mess, but I do feel that my boys have a better understanding of what is going on with me than Mark does. Jacob says he thinks I need to go to the hospital so I can get control of all that is going on. I don't think so, but I do wish there was some measure of how I feel so that Mark could better understand. Patrick said he would fight his dad if he doesn't stop. Hard words coming from a boy that loves his dad more than anything. It is just a reflection of the tension in the house. They have both called their dad today to try to make him understand. It didn't help though -- Mark just called and fussed at me more.

I am trying -- I really don't understand where the anger comes from. He makes me feel as though I am doing this on purpose -- with purpose to destroy our family. I am not. If I could change things, I would. I am so unhappy. I do want to make a distinction that I am not depressed -- that is the only thing that seems to be going well, I was fine until I got pushed off the ledge I was sitting on.

life

Life with fibromyalgia is difficult. I know I have beat that horse several times. However, what is often unmentioned is that those around us do not understand. It is frustrating to live under this veil all of the time.

A mother's day lament

Quite possibly the most wretched day of the year thus far. I should have spent the day with Aunt Norma, but in my self-absorbed world, it didn't occur to me until the horrible mood of the day spilled over onto my conscience self -- and the floodgates opened. Patrick proved to be my savior, as he has done so often lately. He is becoming a man much too quickly, and his perception of what is going on in the family is all too real.

Should I leave, shouldn't I leave, should Mark leave -- or do we just hang on to ride this one out somehow knowing that good times and an ease from the bone-crunching weight of our burdens lie just around the next bend? I do not claim to know the answer to such a mystifying question. My eternal sadness is harder and harder to contain, much like the rain spilling over the edge of a river. I feel as though I am consumed by the bleakness of it all. I know not where to turn or who to turn to. I fear I lost that ability with the death of my own mother and the near death state of my beloved Aunt Norma.

I feel --- the noose tightening just a bit.

Ramblings

What do you do when it seems life has thrown you an unwelcome curve ball? My initial reaction was to fight, but it seems that I am reduced to school girl pranks like name calling, because the truth is I don't know how to fight meanness. I feel as though this person is trying to pull my family apart, and I am at a loss at what to do. I don't know how to fight back. I am unhappy, and beginning to believe that the only way out is to leave.

Kentucky Derby

Mine that Bird just won the Kentucky Derby with 50 to 1 odds. I am so thrilled; it was an exciting race. Calvin Borel is the jocky -- this is his second win in three years. Very amazing. Wish I could have been there in person,

August 27

I had an appointment at the rheumatologist today. They changed my medicine dosage again. I also talked to the PA about my memory lapses. (For example, I forgot how to get to the doctor's office and had to call Mark.) I was hoping it was an easy fix. It isn't. It is called fibro fog -- and it is common with fibromyalgia patients. I am a bit sad about that. I also didn't loose any weight from last visit. I am too embarrassed to say how much I weigh, but it is a lot. I am so fat that most of my clothes don't fit any longer. I have to loose weight, and fix this fibro thing somehow. Uggh -- not such a good day for me.

I am asking everyone that reads this to pray, pray for my friend Russ and his wife, Valerie. She is undergoing surgery for breast cancer. Please keep them close in prayer. Thanks friends.

Too Much Stuff

I have know it for a long time, but have been unable to properly address the situation. I have too much stuff in my house. I am really interested in a greener environment. Part of this includes changing my house habits.

I don't know how this began. Perhaps it began when I had my first baby. The amount of stuff you need for a child is amazing. Or perhaps it began when I was put on bed rest with my second child. I accumulated a lot of stuff then simply because life is so boring on bed rest, and I felt I needed stuff to keep me occupied.

Now I am craving simplicity. I thought what I wanted was a bigger house -- I would like a garage and another bathroom. One obstacle is that I don't know how to stay organized. I wonder sometimes if I don't have Attention Deficit Disorder. People who have that have a tremendous problem with staying organized.

I am going to try t0 begin organizing and ridding myself and my house of the things we don't need. I don't know if this will upset my family or not, but it is one of those things that is really making me uncomfortable in my own home.

If anyone has ideas for organization, please don't hesitate to email me at patricknjacob@aol.com or leave a message.

Thoughts on a beautiful Monday

My friend has lost her cat. Although this doesn't seem like such a problem to some, most anyone who shares their home with a pet can empathize with her. And, I am sure, grateful that it isn't us who is suffering the loss, all the while hoping that her wayward Louella comes home soon.

To many people, pets are considered part of the family. Over the summer, we had to put our beloved Gracie down. She had not been doing well for some time. I opted to take my two boys with me. I asked them if they wanted to go, and they had said yes. It was a bad idea. It was in August, and I am still regretting that I allowed them to be there. It was awful. Terrible awful.

I wonder why we show so much compassion to our animals, but allow humans to go through agonizing, long suffering deaths. That too is awful. Terrible awful.

Another page -- I watched a Linda Ellerbe news short yesterday. I was about the greening of America. It started me thinking about how much we waste. Our footprints on this earth will be huge. How much useless stuff we have, and how much just plain stuff we have. I am looking at eco-friendly living. I am considering a summer vacation there -- only if I can get my family excited about it.

New layout

Spring is here. Time for changes to include my blog. Tell me what you like and don't like about it. Be honest.

Thoughts on a Saturday

A thought that keeps running through my head is regarding forward thinking. Every time I have ever applied for a job, I have always stated that a goal is to create forward thinking students. Forward thinking to me is some one that keeps their eye on the future and how their presence can impact or change that idea of future.

Unfortunately for me, I have not been a forward thinker for sometime now. I have been caught up in the past, due in part by my activity on face book and the reconnection of old friends. This has dredged up memories of dreams unfulfilled, and a life led at times by uncertainty and a longing for past and easier times.

Where has this put me? I can only compare it to racing on a track where the only things of concern are speed, avoiding collisions and spin outs, and the greatest challenge is yet another left turn. This is where I have spent the last few months, save for an occasional break that allows for a temporary peek into the future. These are fleeting and rare. My being is consumed by the now, unfulfilled and perhaps unrecognized dreams, and that pull for what might have been.

Certainly, we all think of the past occasionally. That is what has put us in this specific time and place. Choices made and lessons learned. However, being bogged down lets those moments of time just fly past us. A snap of the fingers and yet another moment, another opportunity gone. Another snap, another missed opportunity.

Recognizing this is part of the answer. Believe me, I recognize that I have been stuck making those endless left turns. In this time, there have been losses of loved ones, additions to families, and extreme challenges. I haven't revelled in the glory of the new opportunities facing me. I have been a wallower. I will try -- I must try -- to change. Life is to fleeting to waste -- and that is what I have been doing -- making those left turns and only looking at the present. The future is where I need to place my focus.

My weekend

Mark is off on an adventure to see his family, so it is just the boys, me, and the animals here for the weekend. That really suits me just fine, as I am suffering -- yes, suffering -- with bronchitis and a sinus infection. I am hoping the atb's kick in soon (day 2 today), and I am feeling better soon.

April -- I don't know the date

Somewhere, there should be a time tracker, who can tell a person how many minutes, hours, days, etc. of time that is wasted and is -- poof -- gone. I know that since I have been diagnosed with fibromyalgia that I have wasted an enormous amount of time. I heard it in my husband's voice when he saying that I could easily have three hours per day for exercise; I was it on my friend's face today when she came to have lunch; I fell it in my body when I can't sleep but for hte paid that I feel from fibromyalgia. All of the opportunities that one missed along the way. Perhaps I should focus more on not wasting these minutes on foolish things. How about -- poof, here I am again -- pressing my nose to the glass to ensure I don't miss a a second of the scenery whether I am walking, riding in a car, or just whatever. Perhaps I won't begrudge the housework that goes and the things that stay unwritten so I cam have a bit of play time with my boys -- just to play and hang out. Time, is a fleeting thing -- the let it slip though our fingers, or we can act on it. I can't own it, but surely I can use that time that God has given me to work harder and longer amounts of time. This can happen so that those fleeting moments will be full, and when it is our time to pass from this earth, everyone will say that she lived her life well.

fun day

I worked almost all day on scrapbooking. I am so addicted. I ran out of some basic supplies, so I will have to go to the store tomorrow to pick some up in order to feed my addiction. It was a good day. The boys got along well all day. Dad took them for hair cuts, and they both look super! Then we had a good lunch before a friend came over to spend most of the afternoon with the boys. It is a friend that Patrick seldom sees now that he is not at school. I can tell Patrick misses some of his friends. Just one of the positives of attending school ... we take them where ever we can get them. Mark grilled some great chicken for dinner, and I made some so-so potato salad. We were really hungry, so there was not much talking at the table. Now, I have to go work on laundry. Patrick followed me in here to talk, but quickly fell asleep after snuggling up with my favorite throw. It is from Williams-Sonoma, and is the softest thing ever. Guaranteed to relax you so you fall right to sleep. At any rate, it was a good day for all. We haven't had many of those here lately, so it was well deserved and cherished.

Homebound vs. Homeschool

My son is going to be homebound educated for the remainder of the school year. He has been at home since January. I have had questions about homebound teaching vs homeschool teaching. The difference is huge -- with homebound, we are provided with a tutor for 5 hours per week, plus that person can act as a liaison between home and school. In addition, the lessons that are to be taught at home are provided by the school. Hope this helps with the confusion.

What of life, anyway

When live gives you lemons, make lemonade. How often I have heard that refrain, but for me -- a glass is half empty girl -- I just can't seem to get those lemons to make anything drinkable. Caustic, I can do, but not drinkable. So ponder this, if you will -- how does one change from caustic lemonade to the sweet/slightly tartness that we long for as we are squeezing the heck out of those lemons?

I surely do not pretend to even be in the same ball park as one who would succeed at the task. My whole life, I have been carrying around those lemons and my half empty glass of sourness. I have seem the effects on those that love and care about me. I see it daily in my own son.

As I long for the ability to change my life -- and perhaps my lifestyle -- I cringe at the same bitterness that I have passed onto my son. At his tender age of manchild, he fights the same demons that have possessed my body time and again. He thinks of death as a welcoming blanket of relief; it being the only beacon of hope that sometimes glimmers in the pit of darkness that overtakes us.

I all too frequently visit that pit. I wonder if I will ever be able to traverse a road without falling into that same pit. I know it is there, and I do my best to avoid it. Sometimes I can take another route altogether, but, most often, I am pulled along until it looms before me as some ugly monster, and in fighting, I fall back into the pit.

I fight and claw my way back to the edge, only to be called back by the piteous cries of a manchild. I try to make myself forge ahead, if only I could get a leg over the edge -- but the cries from below make me stop -- the sound is so familiar. It oozes of desperation, of a helplessness only a child can have. I loosen my grip on the edge, and stop fighting for that leg up and allow my self to free fall backwards into the pit, not being able to full myself free from the cries, nay, the demands for help that I hear beneath.

The bright light of day begins to fade away as the blackness begins again to engulf me. Once reaching the bottom, I can no longer see, so I feel with my hands, being pulled ever closer to the cries that prevented my escape of the darkness that now I wear like a cloak. I reach forward -- I am ever so close -- and finally a hand touches mine. The voice asks for me to come closer, to provide the comfort that will sooth the now tired manchild. I wrap my cloak around him and pat him, just as I did when he was but a baby. It is then that I realize I can choose to either leave the pit on my own, or stay and teach the manchild to make his way to the single ray of light that looms ahead.

He talks ever so softly, and begins to tell me of an even larger pit, one that he has been promised will envelop him forever. He asks if this other pit wouldn't be the best choice for him -- and perhaps even me. I tell him that I am aware of the other pit, and I have sought it out before, only to be yanked away from the edge by caring hands. I tell him of things that are available only if the ray of light is followed. He can't make up his mind -- there are so many thoughts tangled, and he can only be in this moment, not even capable of thinking of the next.

I push aside my own desire to reach the light and wrap myself around him, much as I have done so many times before, and whisper that I will never leave him, even if it means that we survive, because one can never experience a full life in the pit -- it only allows moment to moment events. Thus bound together, we sit in the darkness. I am thankful that he is not alone, but wonder if together we will ever make it to the light and out of the pit. My only hope is that the transformation from manchild to man gives him the strength and the courage to try. But for now, we huddle together, one wishing for the strength to climb out, but tied in the darkness to her own flesh, while the other wishes for the strength to pull away and fall into the pit of nevermore.

Sunday, March 15

I have been wondering what would this place be like if we were no longer here. You know, the Ebeneezer Scrooge kind of look at things. Perhaps we would live our lives differently if we knew with certainty the impact that we make on those around us, or whether we make an impact at all. Do we just float around randomly interacting with others all be happenstance, or is there some preordained direction that our lives take. How much is free will involved?

My Mark

Mark is in Georgia. He spent the evening at the funeral home taking one last time to spend the evening with our beloved Mamaw. While I don't begrudge Mark this chance in the least, I am sad that I didn't get to go as I love Mamaw too. What has taken me by surprise is how much I miss Mark and how incomplete I feel with him gone. Perhaps it is that I am also missing Mamaw and am unable to bring closure at this moment to her passing, I miss Mark at my side. I can't wait for him to come home.

Death of a Matriarch

Mamaw is gone. For almost 70 years of her 80something years of life, she has been the tie that linked the Bradley family together. Now she is gone. On Tuesday, she will be placed into the ground beside Papaw, her partner in life nor almost 70 years, and now her partner in death. I wonder, did she pass because she no longer felt useful? She certainly seemed to be loving her new life in Jacksonville, but I wonder if that was all a pretense for her family. Regardless of the reason, she will be missed. Each time I talked to her, she would impart some piece of wisdom, whether it be how to care for children, how to keep a marriage together, or how to live life to it's fullest. I feel regret at her plaintive, "When are you going to make time to come to see me again?" -- and never making it.

I will miss you Mamaw. Your journey home leaves a small hole in my heart that no other can fill.

Dream for this day

Just where do our dreams get us? How are they realized? How many people leave this life with dreams unfulfilled?

I wonder how many people follow their dreams and fall flat on their face. Or better yet, allow their fear to paralyze them so that dreams go unrealized, falling to the way-side like some sort of confetti sprinkled haphazardly and missing it's target. Life all around goes onward -- without a thought, and someone, perhaps the dream maker himself sweeps the confetti out with the trash.

Define yourself and your dreams. Don't allow the spark of uncertainty or the paralysis of fear to take hold, leaving you with a life unfulfilled and dreams pushed to the wayside. Continue to dream, not only for this day, but for all days -- now and forever.

I wonder ...

I wonder if Valentine's day is only for the hoplessly romantic. Valentine's day typically passes me by unnoticed. Neither my husband nor I are romantics, so a warm hug is our idea of being romantic. Perhaps secretly my husband is more romatic than I am.

Mel's Mind, February 2,

I realized today that I haven't blogged here in over a week. I don't know where my time has gone, and I am very surprised that this much time has passed.

I haven't been feeling well. My hips have been hurting terribly, and I have been so tired. I am guessing it is a fibromyalgia flares. I have been irritable and just plain cranky.

Patrick had a tough week also. He was talking about dropping out of school when he turns 16 and not even beeing alive by age 20. Scary stuff for my family.

Mel's Mind, January 25, 2009

Can you believe that we are closing in on the end of January? It amazes me at how time flies by the older I get. Before I know it, I will be 60 -- the good thing about time flying by so quickly is that the bad things or bad days are soon a distant memory.

I had a tough fibromyalgia day yesterday. I ended up in the ER. The good thing is that I received a morphine dose in an IV and felt better quickly. The bad side of it is that I spent several hours in the ER (Mark was with me), and it will cost the usual $100 for an ER visit. I asked my doctor if I could go to the Urgent Care Clinic, but he was worried that they wouldn't have the correct tests available if something showed positive on an evaluation test, so off I went to the ER. The tests showed nothing, of course. I am glad they erred on the side of caution, but I also wish I didn't have to worry about the fees involved.

What do you think about the new president working over the weekend? I heard on the news that Washington politicians are going to have to get used to the idea of working on Saturday. I don't think that is a bad idea for the time being, until the budget it set and the economic situation of the country is relived or on the way to relief. I don't think that is the situation right now. I don't see locally that our economic situation is on an upswing. I do look forward to that day though.

Mark is talking about a trip he took to the Bahamas -- with his now ex-wife -- almost 20 years ago. I have never been, but would sure like to go. There are a lot of places that I would like to go, but have never been. I had always thought that I would have been much more of a world traveler by this time in my life, but, sadly, that is not the case. The only place I have ever been outside of the US is a couple of day trips to Mexico. I am hoping that changes in the next few years. Is this typical of others facing mid-life? I would surely like to know.

Thoughts on Wintery Friday

We we blessed with a wonderful spring like day yesterday. Temperatures were in the high 50s, and my children were outside in shorts. Mark was on the golf course, so it was a really great day for everyone. Being in St. Louis though, the weather typically doesn't stay any one way for long, and today we woke up with a 30 degree temperature drop. Mark got to take the day off to enjoy the unusually warm temperatures on the golf course -- of course, his favorite place.

Today we are back to normal, with the exception of Jacob being at home due to illness. I sent him yesterday, and I think it was too much for him. He was cranky and upset for most of the day yesterday. I am hoping that he will feel better on Monday with a long weekend.

I went to the rheumatologist yesterday. My Cymbalta was increased 30 mg. I am thrilled that my doctor felt sorry for me and gave me the medication. I was pretty happy with that, as it would have been an additional $45 co-pay. Not a good thing on my already strapped income.

Speaking of income -- it sure is hard with Mark being the only person bringing in money into the house hold. I am continually surprised that he stays with me. I have always loved him so much, but -- if it is possible at all -- I think that I love him more for understanding and standing bu when I know that it is so hard for him. It has caused us to focus more on what really matters and less on the things around us.

Mel's Mind, January 22, 2009

Again, President Obama is on my mind. I was thinking yesterday about what it was like for him on his first full day as President, surely a heady experience for him. I was thinking about his whole family, actually. I know that his girls did not have to go to school yesterday, but were expected to attend today. I praise President and Mrs. Obama for their attempts to maintain normalcy for them, even going to the extent of bringing Grandma to the White House in order to keep their life a bit sane. I can imagine their excitement. I wonder if 7 year old Sasha is old enough to realise the significance of her new home and her daddy's new job. At any rate, I hope they are beginning to feel a sense of the support that I believe the majority of the country sends them. I certainly wish them well.

On another note, Patrick is being home bound taught by my friend, Cathy. I am very excited about that. She has such a calming manner about her, and an ability to keep Patrick focused, even in situations that I know would be stressed and frustrated in. If that is her feeling, she certainly isn't showing it, and I am thrilled at the amount of work that they are doing.

Finally, my Mark gets to golf today. I guess I didn't realize until this winter time just how important his gold is to him. It helps to keep his boat stable even in rocky waters. He is just working for a few hours this morning, then he will come home in order to collect the golf clubs and heading out to the golf course as the temperatures soar today to almost 60 degrees. I am happy for him.

I guess that wasn't finally. Jacob is back at school today after missing yesterday. He missed Tuesday also. He has developed a cold, and wasn't feeling well enough to attend the last couple of days. He seems a bit better this morning so I sent him.

Speaking of attending school, Patrick is missing his friends. He and I talked yesterday about the fact that the same problems that were there before will still be there, it is him that has to change his feelings and reactions to those problems in order to be successful upon returning. We talked about the chance he has with his psychologist to work things out as he meets with him weekly while he is not in school. Patrick agreed.

Mel's Mind, January 21, 2009

I was so excited yesterday -- I was glued to the TV and had a difficult time pulling myself away. I am so pro Obama/Biden anyway -- and it was thrilling to see them take command of our country. I think we are in for some big changes in the next couple of years; I am sure that some of them will be really difficult for us, but necessary. I look forward to the draw down of the troops in Iraq. I think it is senseless that we are still there. I don't think we are helping the citizens of that country; I do think that we are creating a sort of helpless dependence on the soldiers there.

I often wonder if the President Bush really thought that there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. I sometimes think that it was a sort of revenge for his father's failed mission there. I know that when it was discovered that there were no weapons of mass destruction, the troops should have begun a draw down, but there wasn't. I would like to be inside of Bush's head to understand why he made some of the decisions that he made. When he left DC yesterday, I thought he was looking old and tired. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him and Laura. I guess history will tell what sort of president he was.

In the same vein of thought, we face a new commander and a new force of power. I heard a comment on the news that President Obama was concerned that he would lose the man that he was before the election. In some ways, it is inevitable that he will change -- I don't know that he will lose that man, but I know he will change. I hope he does keep his ideals though. Power can corrupt if you don't wield it correctly.

I am sure that others have high hopes for the future too. I know that I do.